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lunaccult · 2 years ago

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I found my original timeline for milo and edited a few things, switching up his story a smidge. if you're interested in liminal spaces....... teehee...... heed the trigger warnings.......

Birth - Todd and Shannon Bishop welcome their second child, who they name Adam. His older sister, Caitlyn, is 5 years his senior and is immediately enamored of her little brother. She is diligent in helping her parents care for this boy. The Bishop family lives in the small town of Nimilla, Missouri, and Todd is the only, and highly esteemed, pastor of the local Church.

5 - This will be the first memory Adam has of his drunk father hitting his mother, though it had long been happening even before his birth. It is his first glimpse into the reality that his father is not the decent holy man that many believe him to be.

6 - Adam befriends another boy in the first grade. Isaiah becomes his first, and only, friend as long as he is in Nimilla.

8 - One night, after a violent and destructive fight between Todd and Shannon, Todd takes Caitlyn from her bed and drags her out of the house. Adam, despite being afraid and concerned for his mother who had gone to bed weeping, follows his father and sister into the woods past his backyard. What he witnesses that night is only the first of a long series of horrifying events in his life and can only be described as despicable. Ignorant to what goes on for many years even after this night, Adam later realizes that this night was the first time Todd had tried to give something permission to possess an innocent person, this time being Caitlyn. When the possession does not happen, Todd grows furious and unhinged, so much so that he proceeds to beat his oldest child. Young, and terrified, Adam flees back to his house. In the morning, Caitlyn is declared missing and, later, dead. The mystery around her death is no mystery to Adam, who will be haunted by this memory forever. The Bishop family, specifically Adam and Shannon, are devastated.

10 - Two years after the death of his sister, Adam is the one dragged from his bed one night and submitted to a cult ritual conducted by his own father, though this time Adam is successfully possessed by the entity that his father had been desperate to contain and control. This possession will trigger in Adam hallucinations, dissociation, and the ability to hop through realities into what he refers to as the Spaces.

11 - During an episode where he is caught in the Spaces, Adam is startled to discover another person with him, which has not happened in the entire year that he has been experiencing his possession. They talk, though Adam is still afraid of what it means that she is there and also the Spaces themselves. Before she leaves, the girl gives him what Adam learns is an iPod, which contains music in it. This will become his most prized possession and will send him spiralling into the one escape he has, music.

12 - When the few songs on the iPod become not enough to satisfy Adam’s love for music anymore, he finds himself drawn to create his own. He begins to teach himself how to play the piano at his father’s church, though he has few resources to do so. It is his mother who teaches him how to read sheet music when she discovers him trying to play; she also is the one to secretly purchase for him his own very small keyboard.

13 - Adam discovers the Internet, but does not have access to it for very long. He finds that the only time he can use it is late into the night, so he begins watching YouTube videos on his very small, cheap cell phone (which he is only to use to contact his father in an emergency). He discovers more music and even starts watching tutorials on how to create music so that he can better his own songs.

14 - Adam buys his own laptop in secret so that he can start trying to make real music. He begins putting out short snippets of songs he’s written on YouTube under the username musicsaves212. During this time, he continues to witness his father’s abuse toward his mother and is subjected to cruel verbal and emotional treatment himself, as well as his own mental decline from his possession.

16 - Adam is woken up in the middle of the night by his father fighting with his mother. Unbeknownst to them both, he sneaks out to check on his mother, who he can hear crying. Very quickly, the fight escalates and Adam watches helplessly as his father retreats into the kitchen. When he returns, Adam is forced to watch his father cruelly and mercilessly murder his mother in their living room. When Adam begins to cry, Todd finally catches sight of him and lunges toward the boy. Horrified and shocked by what he’s just witnessed, Adam runs from his childhood home and is thrown into the Spaces.

17 - When Adam emerges from the Spaces again, he is shocked to discover that he had been in there for five months and his father has given the same lie he had for Caitlyn several years before: Adam has gone missing, though this time Todd appears to be searching for him. Several townspeople spot and recognize him, though Adam realizes very quickly that if his father finds him, he will likely be given the same fate as his mother and sister before him. So he flees Nimilla.

17 - For the next several days, Adam begins a trek away from Missouri. He hops trains, stows away in semi trucks, walks and hitchhikes - anything to get him away from his father and that town. After a week, he finds himself outside of New York and decides that the city is where he wants to go.

18 - Adam changes his name to Milo McKiernan. He is unhoused, but has begun job hopping to get enough money to get himself a new laptop and eventually a guitar. He begins writing music again and even posting to social media, though he remains anonymous by keeping his face covered when he does upload content.

20 - Milo’s music is discovered by a music producer. It lands Milo an offer to work at Manhattan-based, Agony Records. Initially, he is wary because he does not want his father to discover his whereabouts, but it doesn’t take long for his love for music (and need for a roof over his head) to take precedence over his concerns. Despite what appears to be a switch into the right (and safe) direction, Milo continues to suffer from the effects of his possession. During his initial time working at Agony, he is mentored by Zander Riles, the very producer who'd discovered him.

#domestic abuse //#dv //#child abuse //#murder //#religious trauma //#ask to tag //#currently milo's been at agony for 3 years #and trouble do be a-brewin'#i need to write up info about The Spaces #but if you know about the backrooms / liminal space lore.. it's pretty much that :o)#but there's also some more supernatural elements to it~

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brilliantfantasticgeronimo · 5 months ago

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[high key unpopular opinion, low key snob moment incoming] honestly discourses about whether or not a plot is good because it plays into "normal vs special" tropes are so tiring to me,in such a particular like ... Death Of Art kind of way tbh.

i think bc it's like. it's not based on anything real. and to me, art*/stories are only ever affecting if it says truthful things about life. about real things. chosen ones are not a real thing. tbh to me it's just brainrot from superhero genre / vacuous shonen manga. irl being "a chosen one" is not a thing. it's entirely a pop culture fabrication*.

saying "the timeless child is bad because it makes the doctor a chosen one!!!" it's just nonsense. there's nothing in the episode that suggests anything the doctor did after being brainwashed by division was out of "predetermination" from a higher power. but people have brainwashed themselves from empty ~geek culture~ so much that these days is literally only made to sell toys / collectibles, that's the only framework they have for understanding stories. through comparing it to other stories with the same tired, trite tropes. *abstract art notwithstanding. **well, unless you live in a monarchy, i guess.

#this is inspired by the ruby plot dslkfj but not entirely about it #so many people cant see anything beyond besides 'but she was supposed to be special!!!'#'but it's better if she's normal!!'#literally no one thinking *anything* else about it like #that her mom was a victimg of domestic abuse #and she was literally a teen #the whole thing about how this creates a rift between her and the doctor #a now that she got what she wanted. where does she go from here?? that abandonment trauma isnt just gonna go away #also that the beat that louise felt guilty about it and couldnt bear to see her. its an interesting beat. i feel says something about louis #idk i feel fandom received the info that 'oh so she's not the triskter's daughter' and immediately shut down any kind of engagement w/#w/ the story*#it's just bizarre to me tbh. it's not about her being 'normal' or a chosen one... it's about how this affects the characters....#it's like 'chosen one' discourse has warped into a kind of... identity politics discourse lol #(this is also why i hate the incredibles tbh. 'we are not special ):' is such like. a usa-sian non-problem lol)#(entirely born out of Consuming Too Much Empty Pop Culture)

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smolcuriouskitten · 1 year ago

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🧸 - does your muse still own stuffed animals from their childhood?

Rockelle kept most of her stuffed animals due to the sentimental value but you can guess who tampered with them. At times, when Magic didnt feel like putting his hands on her or using his words, he would pluck her childhood toys away from her and would burn them. He knew she found comfort in them, so he would take them away. She was able to salvage one and only one that she had. It was the last gift her mother gave to her, a stuffed bear.

Shes since put a spell on it so she never forgets her mothers perfume. She doesnt display it due to fear of it being destroyed, so she keeps it in her memory box, full of things from her past. She has a strong attatchment to this plush but keeps it hidden and only breaks it out when shes really sad or anxious.

#ding dong; {answered}#lovely kitten; {character info}#dont pull it!; {triggers tag}#tw: domestic abuse #tw: abuse #tw: fire #tw: violence

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fluentmoviequoter · 8 months ago

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A Room Away (No More)

Part 2 of A Room Away

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!roommate!reader

Summary: Your abusive ex reaches out, and you hide it from Tim until it's almost too late.

Warnings: angst, domestic violence, abuse, assault, anxiety/panic attacks, fluff and a happy ending guaranteed!!

Word Count: 3.7k+ words

A/N: A Room Away is one of the first Tim fics I wrote and it took me a few months, but I loved writing this continuation! I hope you enjoy!🤍

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim’s thumb brushes back and forth over a nearly invisible scar on your arm as you wait for your dinner guests. Remembering that it has been days since your last nightmare and nearly a week without a migraine makes you smile, and Tim glances at you but doesn’t ask any questions. The doorbell rings and he grumbles under his breath as he leaves your side. As he opens the door to invite Angela and Wesley in, your phone vibrates beside you. Tim is giving Angela a hard time, as usual, and you take the moment when her attention isn’t on you to read the new text.

Unknown There is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.

The sentence is familiar, too familiar. You read the message again, and before you finish another comes through.

Unknown Los Angeles isn’t big enough to hide you from me.

“Are you okay?” Angela asks.

You lock your phone quickly and clear your throat before you look up at her and nod. The message repeats over and over in your head. Your phone may not know who sent the text, but you do, and knowing that your ex is in the same city as you terrifies you. Deep down, you know you should tell Tim, but you can’t.

“How’s Timothy treating you?” Angela adds.

She sits beside you, and you try to forget about the text for now. “He still won’t reduce my rent,” you complain jokingly.

Tim watches you from his spot in the kitchen. The last few weeks have been good. Your nightmares are becoming less frequent, you let Tim touch you without flinching or panicking, but the look on your face right now isn’t right.

“How are things?” Wesley asks. “Need a prenup, yet?”

“Funny, Wesley,” Tim replies without looking away from you. “I hope Angela cleans you out in the divorce.”

“He can keep the kids,” Angela adds from beside you.

“Good luck getting rid of me,” Wesley says. He lowers his voice and turns away from Angela to ask, “Seriously, Tim, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Things are good, great even. I just don’t want to do anything that makes us go backward.”

“Abusive relationships are hard to get over, but you’re helping her with that, Tim.”

“I hope so.”

“Wasn’t a question, Sergeant.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he puts your favorite food on a plate. It isn’t often that Angela and Wesley come over, but right now, Tim wishes he was alone with you so he could check on you. You don’t seem to hide things from him on purpose, and he understands the time it takes to trust people after having your trust betrayed and being abused. He’ll never push, but the moment you pull, he’s there. Never more than a phone call or a room away.

“Here you go,” Tim murmurs as he passes you a plate.

Your shoulders tense as he nears you but drop just as quickly. The jumpiness is something that was completely gone just yesterday, and Tim furrows his brows as he watches you accept the plate and look out the window. He runs a finger over your jawline to bring your attention back to him, and you smile at him.

“You alright?” he asks.

It seems to be everyone’s question tonight, and you once again lie, “Yeah.”

Tim nods and you thank him for the food before moving to sit by Angela. With his eyes on you throughout dinner, Tim decides that something is wrong, and he needs to get to the bottom of it. You open up as the night continues, yet when Angela and Wesley leave, you fall silent as you clear the table.

“Hey,” Tim calls softly.

He wraps a kind hand around your wrist to stop you, and you flinch away from him involuntarily. Tim raises his hands, and you drop your chin toward your chest and fight the tears threatening to spill. You’re scared because of the text, but that is no reason to move away from Tim. As you struggle not to panic, Tim whispers that everything is okay.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out.

Tim shakes his head to remind you that you never have to apologize. You step closer and pinch his shirt between your fingers before wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Strong arms settle over your back, and you push your cheek over Tim’s heart.

“I’m just feeling off, or something,” you say. “Please don’t worry about me.”

Tim hums and moves a hand to brush your hair away from your face. He won’t agree not to worry about you, and it’s too late to pretend like he’s not already doing just that.

The next few days pass slowly, and as you continue to spend more time at home, Tim’s concerns grow. You’re up and moving around, so it’s not a migraine, but you haven’t worked more than eight hours in three days. Every time Tim sees you at home, he hugs you, kisses you, and silently reminds you that he’s right beside you, but you keep up your act that nothing is wrong. It’s a failing façade, though, and you’re just waiting to break.

When you wake just after 1 in the morning, you can’t stop the scream that escapes. Your ex was in your room, in Tim’s home, and when he was done with you he was going to cross the hall and do the same to Tim. Of all the nightmares you’ve had, seeing Tim moments away from being hurt was the scariest of them all. You pull your knees up to your chest and drop your head as you sob, your panicked scream making way for the fear you’ve been burying since you got the text.

Tim comes in without question or knocking, and when your door hits the wall, you lift your head and flinch to the other side of your bed. At the sight of Tim, however, you launch yourself toward him and let him pull you close. You cry against his chest as he whispers comforting promises, but the only thing that helps you is the tangible reminder that he is safe. You tell yourself over and over, clutch his shirt, and listen to his heartbeat. He’s safe, and he won’t let anything happen to either one of us.

As he holds you, Tim keeps you as close as possible. He knows that you shouldn’t ask questions now. Not that you’d give him an honest answer anyway, he thinks. Whatever you’ve been hiding is making you scared, and it breaks Tim’s heart to see you affected this way. Waking up to your scream scared him, so he can only imagine what must be going through your mind.

Unknown I saw the planetarium today. Can you see it from your new home?

Unknown Met a girl in the supermarket who looked like you. But I won’t settle for second best.

Unknown Clues, clues, clues. Am I getting closer, baby?

With each new text you receive, you have to talk yourself out of running from Tim. You don’t want to pull away from him, but you constantly worry that if you’re found, Tim will be in danger, too. A knock on your door draws your attention away from the newest message, and Tim smiles when you meet his eyes.

“Want to go to lunch? Just us?” he offers.

You should say no, but you nod before standing. Nothing bad can happen in public, and being beside Tim is the safest place to be, you think. Even as you try to convince yourself that going to lunch will be fine, you can feel the fear and anxiety building in your chest. It weighs down on you and makes it hard to breathe, so you measure each breath and focus on Tim instead of the adrenal responses flooding your body.

Tim turns into a random subdivision and slows down. You raise your brows and look at him, but he only offers a hand extended over the console. When you lay your hand over his, he intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls your hand closer to him. He makes another turn, and you realize that he’s not taking a shortcut to the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” you inquire quietly.

“I don’t want to push you too hard or too soon,” he says. “But something is bothering you, and I can’t help if you stop talking to me.”

“Tim, I’m fine, I promise. I’ve just been feeling off.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll pass.”

“What will pass? Pushing me away and blocking me out won’t fix whatever is happening!”

“And telling you will?” you ask. You’re getting defensive because you’re scared, and you try to pull your hand away so you can stop talking to him.

“Why did you ever let me in if it was just going to end like this? I’m with you, but why can’t you trust me enough to tell you what’s making you scream in the middle of the night and jump when I walk up behind you?”

“Because he can threaten me all he wants, but I don’t want Brent to find you too!” you snap.

“Brent?” Tim asks lowly. He pulls his hand away and sets his jaw to ask, “Brent who?”

You shrink in the passenger seat and whisper his last name. Tim’s brakes squeal as he presses the pedal to the floor and parks on the side of the road. You can tell without looking at him that he’s angry, and you slipping up and saying your ex’s name certainly didn’t help.

“Get out,” Tim orders.

“Are you serious?” you whisper brokenly.

“Out of my truck. Now.”

You slide out of the passenger seat and close the door behind you. Tears have been building in your eyes for a week, and you let them fall freely now. You’re scared and hurting, but Tim refuses to look at you as you stand on the curb.

“Tim, please don’t do this,” you plead through the rolled-down window.

Tim doesn’t answer, and when he shifts the truck back into drive, you know he’s serious about leaving you here.

“Tim, please!” you beg through your tears.

“Go home,” he says over the engine.

The truck pulls away from the curb where you stand, and you harshly wipe your tears away to clear your vision. As you dig for your phone, you know it’s time to take Angela up on her offer. She said to call if Tim was ever mean to you, and you think leaving you on the side of the road counts.

Tim turns around in a nearby cul-de-sac and parks behind a tree where you can’t see him, but he can keep an eye on you. He’s angry and needed a second to calm down, but he never intended to leave you. He sighs as he types the name of your ex into his phone. He’ll ask Angela to run it later. When Tim looks back up at you, you have your back to him, and your phone raised to your ear. Your shoulders shake as you cry, and Tim taps his knuckles against his steering wheel. He made you cry this time, and though he’s glad to have a few answers, he wishes this wasn’t how he got them.

After moving in, you confided in Tim that Angela told you to call her if he was ever mean to you. When her car pulls up and you climb into the passenger seat, Tim shakes his head fondly. You’re mad at him, but you’re still perfect in his eyes. Now that he knows you’re safe, Tim decides to stop by the station and do some digging on your ex.

“I think I’m going to text Tim,” you say.

“What? No! He abandoned you. Just eat your ice cream and wait for him to come and beg on his knees,” Angela replies. She points her spoon at you and adds, “You’re too good for him, anyway.”

“I think that’s the other way around.”

“Fine,” she groans. “Text him. But I’m still mad at him.”

Your text to Tim is short, a simple apology, just: I’m sorry. His response is nearly immediate, and you smile when his name pops up in the notification.

Tim I’m not mad at you. I know you’re with Angela. Want me to pick you up?

Tim You don’t have to come home if you’re not ready. Whatever you want.

Your response is a promise that what you want is to be with Tim. Angela rolls her eyes at your smile, but she’s happy for you and Tim. After all, it’s because of her that you found a place a live and met Tim. She begins to ask a question, but your ringing phone cuts her off.

“Tim?” you ask as you answer.

“When did the texts start?” he inquires.

“Uh, about a week ago, I guess.”

“Change of plans, then. Let me talk to Angela.”

You pass the phone to Angela, and she listens for a moment before she stands and walks into her bedroom. Whatever they’re talking about, they don’t want you to know about. Tim said there was a change of plans, which sounds suspiciously like he won’t be taking you home tonight. The panic from earlier returns slowly as you wonder if he’ll ever let you go home again.

“Your boyfriend wants to talk,” Angela says, cutting through your doubt as she returns your phone.

“Sorry,” Tim begins. “I looked into your ex. He flew into LAX about a week ago, so the texts weren’t just threats. He’s here. And a week is a long time when you’re trying to find someone. I want you to stay at Angela’s tonight, okay?”

“Are you- are you working tonight?” you ask softly.

“I am now. Brent’s got an arrest warrant, and the threats he sent you make him a higher priority. We’re gonna look for him. We will find him,” Tim promises.

“Be careful, Tim.”

“I will. I have to get home to you, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ll call you later and check in. Let Angela know if you get more texts, please.”

“I will. Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“I promise I’m not mad at you.”

“I know,” you murmur. “See you later, Tim.”

Tim’s decision to drive by his house before he starts looking for your abusive ex was both a precaution and about Kojo. The house looks exactly as it had when he left with you for lunch, and Tim puts Kojo in the front seat of his shop before driving toward Angela and Wesley’s house. If Brent goes to his house to find you, both you and Kojo will be safe and sound with Angela Lopez prepared to defend you. There aren’t many people Tim trusts, but when you called Angela, he knew you made the right choice. It’s the one he would have made, too.

Kojo pushes past Angela to meet you when she opens the door. You happily invite him into your lap and hug him tightly. He soothes your nerves without trying, and you loosen your grip on him only to look up at Tim.

“Nothing yet,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m a call away if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Tim,” you reply.

He lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles as he promises, “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s your car?” Angela asks you.

“I just moved it. Public parking off Sepulveda,” Tim answers for you. “He doesn’t seem like the smartest guy in the world, but, just in case.”

“He’s not,” you agree.

Tim slowly pulls his hand away before he leaves again, and you lean closer to Kojo for his comfort. Angela disappears into her bedroom again a few minutes later and returns in a rush.

“I have to go. There’s been a homicide,” she explains. “I called Tim and he’ll be here in less than thirty minutes. Don’t answer the door for anyone; he and Wesley have keys.” She slows to ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go solve a homicide.”

She rushes out the front door and locks it behind her, but you stand and double-check it anyway. Your phone is empty of notifications, and you can only wait until Tim arrives. After you settle beside Kojo again, you give him your attention. You and he freeze simultaneously when your phone chimes on the coffee table.

Unknown Walk outside or you will cost them everything.

You read it twice before you realize what he’s asking you to do. The moment you step out in the open, he can do anything and everything he wants. But you look around and see the life Tim and Angela have built for themselves and know that you can’t do anything to jeopardize that or their safety. So, you quickly shepherd Kojo into a bedroom and lock the door before slowly flipping the locks on the front door and stepping out into the Los Angeles night. The sun recently set, but there’s enough light you can see someone standing at the corner of the yard. Tim can’t be more than a few minutes away, but his thirty-minute estimation feels like an eternity.

“Los Angeles,” Brent says before laughing. “I knew you’d run somewhere you could hide but the city of angels? You, baby, were never going to fit in here.”

“What do you want?” you ask, willing your voice to be strong.

Brent smiles and you take a step back as he moves closer. You stumble against the sidewalk behind you, and Brent surges forward to wrap a cruel hand around your arm. He twists your skin with his grip, and everything about his touch is the opposite of Tim’s. For the first time since you met Brent, you fight back. Your free hand makes contact with his jaw, but he recovers quickly and shoves you to the ground.

Pulling your knees up, you try to create momentum to knock Brent off of you, but he pushes your legs down and shoves the heel of his hand between your ribs. The air is driven from your lungs, but you know you can’t stop fighting. When Brent moves his hands, so one is holding your face and the other is reaching for something in his waistband, you panic. You need Tim, but he’s a call away, and you left your phone inside.

“Domestic dispute and assault in progress at…”

Tim doesn’t hear anything past Angela’s address, and he hits the lights as he makes the final turn onto her street. Several neighbors are gathered on the opposite side of the street and watching an altercation in Angela’s front yard when he reaches the curb. A woman screams, and Tim slams the shop into park when he sees the glint of a gun being pulled. He opens the shop door and immediately ducks as a shot is fired. “L.A.P.D. Put down the weapon!” he yells from behind his open door.

He calls your name, but there’s no sound. No reply, no calls or screams from the neighbors, and Tim peeks around the door. Slowly, the gun is tossed to the side and the man, your ex, slowly clambers onto his hands and knees. When he sits back and puts his hands up, Tim has a clear view of you lying on the ground. There’s blood on your face, and you’re not moving, so Tim rushes forward. Two more police cars join Tim’s shop, but his complete focus is on you. He kneels beside you and pushes two fingers against your pulse point.

“I’m okay,” you whisper when you feel Tim’s skin on yours.

Tim sighs and drops his head before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling your torso off the ground and into a hug. You return his tight grip as he sits on the sidewalk and holds you close. Two other officers handcuff Brent and put him in the back of a cruiser, and you’re surprised but pleased with the lack of threats directed toward you.

“Sergeant Bradford, the weapon was discharged, but the bullet was fired into a tree. CSU will gather data for ballistics,” an officer tells Tim quickly.

His grip tightens on you at the mention of the gunshot, and you sigh against his shoulder. As you lean up, he gets a better look at the bruise under your jaw and the fresh blood pooling against the older, dried blood under your nose. He moves you gently so he can stand and calls for a paramedic.

“Tim, I’m fine,” you say with a painful chuckle.

“Respectfully, I want a second opinion,” he replies. “And then we’re going home.”

“Don’t forget Kojo.”

“I’ll get him.”

“Oh, you may need a key.”

Tim furrows his brows at you but doesn’t ask what you’re talking about as he lowers beside you again. His hand in yours distracts you from the pokes and prods of the paramedics, and your mind is no longer anxious and scared, but excited to go home and remind Tim how much you appreciate his protectiveness.

Tim doesn’t let you out of his sight or his hold from the moment you enter his house. He pulls you against him and sits on the couch, inviting Kojo to join you. You’re finally okay, and it makes it easier for both you and Tim to show the affection you’ve been avoiding.

“I don’t want to be a call away anymore,” Tim confesses softly. “Not a room away… I need to be right beside you.”

“Tim, I only asked for the separation because I had to have it. Thinking that he would come after me was concerning, but the closer I got to you, the more worried I was he’d hurt you, too.”

“I understand that, but it’s over now. So, it’s your choice again.”

You nod and tilt your bruised face up from Tim’s chest to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be a room away either,” you whisper.

Tim smiles and brushes a gentle thumb over your cheekbone before withdrawing his touch from your face. He kisses you gently, a series of pecks more than a real kiss, before allowing you to move closer.

As you fall asleep in Tim’s arms, you’ve never felt more at home. His touch, his presence, his protectiveness, and his care make him special, and he’s the best roommate-turned-more you could have asked for.

“I love you,” Tim whispers, and you wake up faster than ever.

#tim bradford x reader #hanna writes✯#tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #fem!reader

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moody-alcoholic · 5 months ago

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Chapter 1 - The Job.

I just don't know when to stop, if I don't have like 20 projects going at once I get bored. I waited until I had a name though, no longer will I be titling everything 'untitled XYZ fic. It was actually my fiancée who came up with the name.

Work summary: 141 retired and decided to open a delivery company. Only it's not a delivery company, it's a cover for less legal practices. Need a creepy stalker out your life? Someone owes you money? You need to disappear to a new life? Special Delivery Service has got you covered, for a reasonable fee.

Chapter Summary: 5.5k words, Simon x reader, female reader, name used: Dani (this is just personal preference, I don't like using Y/N.) You accept a job offer to work as an office admin for a commercial delivery company. Only the job is not quite as it seems and you come to learn neither are the people you work for.

CW: mentions of abusive ex, alcohol, language, flashbacks of domestic abuse.

masterlist - next

AO3 link

Enjoy <3

You see the job listing towards the bottom of the page:

Office admin wanted! To start immediately. MUST have a background in logistics. Send CV to: [email protected] Competitive salary.

It was short, sweet, to the point and the most promising job posting you had seen all day. You had a background in logistics, you’d just spent the last 3 years working as a supply chain manager. Mainly it was just organising warehouse deliveries but it was experience none the less. You copy the e-mail and send the CV, with a job posting like this you didn’t expect to hear a response back for a few days.

It was already 8pm you’d been applying for jobs all day. You decided to give up for tonight, the sofa and the TV were calling you. You head into the kitchen rummaging through the fridge to see what sad meal you would cook up tonight. You pull out a box of Chinese leftovers, they still smell good. You tip them on a plate throwing it in the microwave as you pour yourself a glass of wine. Turning the TV on channel surfing when your phone starts ringing, you go to pick it up. It’s not a number you know but you swallow your nerves accepting it in case it’s about a job.

“Hello?” You say.

“Hello is this Dani” A male voice comes through the other end.

“Yeah,” You reply feeling nervous all of a sudden, you sip the wine.

“You applied for the office admin job?” The voice says back. You have to think for a second, he can’t mean the job you literally applied for less then 10 minutes ago. You look back over at the laptop screen the e-mail still open.

“Hello?” the voice says.

“Yes, sorry yeah, wow I didn’t expect to hear back so quickly.”

“Yeah, we need someone to start immediately, can you come down for an interview tomorrow?”

“Sure what time?” You ask, you need this job, you need to get back on your feet.

“I’ll message you the time, and the address.” He says, you hear noise in the background sounds like a door slamming.

“Thank you,” you say as you hear the microwave beep.

“No problem, see you tomorrow.” He says and hangs up the phone. You take your food out the microwave and flop down on the sofa tuning into whatever soap was playing on the TV. You’re halfway through your food when you get a text with the address and a time. 10am. You copy the address and put it into google, now is a better time then ever to find out about this company. Special Delivery Service, SDS, you don’t know why that makes you chuckle, it makes you think of DFS, the sofa company. The address is close by only a few streets actually, you could walk there in about 20 minutes, that’s convenient at least. From the looks of the website it’s a commercial delivery company. ‘Discretion is our specialty’��it says as you continue reading, there is not much info just how to contact them for a quote. The pictures are mainly stock images bar the logo.

You’d never heard of them before but it’s not exactly like you’re in the market for commercial deliveries, it has good ratings though, that means something. You throw the phone to the side turning back to the TV. This was good, this is a good start it’s what you need to move on, maybe even a fresh start. It feels like the right time, newly out of toxic relationship, made redundant, all in less then a month.

Maybe you could use a nice change of pace, or maybe you would go to the interview tomorrow and it will be a complete waste of time. Either way it’s a step in the right direction and at least your mum will be happy you’ve found a job, you’re pretty sure she was dreading the thought of having to financially support you until you were back on your feet. Now you were definitely hoping the interview would will go well, the thought of having to rely on your mother to support you was the worst. You would rather ask your ex, Lord knows he owes you one. You finish the food and lounge around watching TV until you start to dose off. You peal yourself off the couch heading into bed, a good nights rest will do you good, besides you want to make a good impression tomorrow.

——————————

You get to the building early, it’s sunny weather for once and you can see the large doors to the building flung open. You peak in and see delivery vans, the whole place looks like it was an ex-mechanic shop. A figure catches the corner of your eye, he’s talking to another man walking across the floor, you can’t hear what they’re saying but the shorter man seems enthusiastic about something. Before you can get a better look they disappear out of your line of sight. You look over to what you assume is the customer entrance, and walk in. There is a man sat behind the counter, he seems distracted by something angrily typing on a computer. He sighs as you reach the desk, his eyes flicking up to you, he scoots back in the chair.

“How can I help?” He asks, his demeanour changing, he’s got a nice smile.

“I’m here for an interview,” You say suddenly feeling nervous. He nods getting up.

“Yeah of course, come through.” He says opening a hidden door in the counter and you walk though. He leads you through to the main room it still smells of fuel, this place definitely used to be a mechanic shop, you can see the covered up pits on the floor where they would access under the cars.

Your attention is drawn to the sound of laughing and you see the two men from earlier stood round a coffee machine. The taller man has his back turned to you while the shorter man is chuckling, hitting the taller man on the back. His eyes move to you, he’s fit, well built, tanned skin, he runs his hand through his slick mohawk, you could have swore he just winked at you. You turn your attention back to the man leading you as you reach a metal staircase.

The second floor-if you can even call it that-is furnished with sofa’s and a kitchenette, you can see a dart board and what looks like a pool table. Looks like a cool place to hangout. You feel bad for not asking the man his name as he leads you an office door. He knocks and you both wait.

“Come in!” a voice calls, you think you recognise it, its the same person you spoke to on the phone yesterday. The door opens and you walk in. You look at the man sat behind the desk, he looks older then the other people you’ve seen, his beard makes him look older then you suspect for some reason, you can see the bags under his eyes like he could do with long nap.

“Thanks Kyle,” He says as you walk in. Okay, his name was Kyle you’d have to remember that. He nods leaving the room closing the door behind you. The man behind the desk gets up as you walk over to him. He comes round putting his hand out for you to shake it.

“John Price,” he says as he nods at you smiling. You nod back.

“Sit please, coffee? Tea?” He gestures to the chair and walks back round the desk.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You look up at him smiling as you sit down. His office walls are massive windows looking down on the room below you can see people moving around now opening the back of the vans. You look back up at him as he takes a paper in his hand.

“3 years as a supply chain manager, studied business in college, pretty impressive.” He says putting the paper back down.

“Thank you,” you say, not that it’s really that impressive the only reason you did a business course was to make your parents happy. You had no idea what you wanted to do when you finished secondary school.

“So do you have any experience in warehouse management?” He asks leaning forward on the desk.

“Well at my last job towards the end, there was a lot of inventory organisation and I was pretty much left in charge of clearing the whole place out before the business went under.” You say, you’re not sure if that’s what he’s expecting, to be honest with the little research you managed to do and the vague job posting you were not sure what to expect.

“The jobs pretty simple. There are three main aspects, the first is the most important; the clients send us a list of good they need transporting, it’ll be your job to assign it to a driver then create the invoices, paperwork, the system is already pretty automatic. A lot of it is just data entry if I’m being honest.” You smile at him as he continues, so far it seems like a pretty easy job.

“The second part is when a client sends a special request, the system is not set up to handle them yet so they can come through as errors, with just an e-mail address attached. If you can assign them to someone great if not forward them on to me. The system will let you know if a driver has available delivery slots.” You nod as he finishes, you could handle this, data entry, assigning jobs to people, easy.

“Sounds good so far.” You reply. He nods.

“The last part is just your general office admin work, you’ll man the front desk, answer the phone, the boys will tell you if they need supplies ordering that kind of stuff. The hours are standard 9 to 5, 5 days a week, we’re closed Saturday Sunday.” He says spinning round in his chair and taking some paper from the printer.

“I live close by actually it’s really convenient.” You say.

“That’s nice, if you want the job I have a contract ready, you can start tomorrow then you’ll have the weekend off.” He says spinning back round straightening the paper out. That’s sudden, the job did say start immediately though, and you really need this job.

“Of course, that’s great.” You say smiling, hoping he can’t see your hesitation. He pushes the stack of papers towards you, you flick through the first few pages of standard workers rights.

“You’ll get 2 weeks paid vacation a year, sick leave and maternity leave should you need it kick in after a month of probation.” He explains, pretty standard. You flick through it to the end page with the salary break down. Holy shit!

“The job requires a certain level of…Discretion.” He explains. “You’re compensated for the inconvenience.”

“What like I can’t tell people were I work?” You ask confused. He looks at you like he’s trying to think of what to say.

“We have clients who expect their information to be handled, appropriately. On top of that some of your colleagues like to keep their work and home life separate.” He says eventually, you frown. That’s strange and he didn’t answer your question. You nod like you understand though, regardless you’ll take the 'hush money.' Especially since you’ll be making more then you’ve never made for what is basically a data entry job, and maybe having to answer the phone a few times. It almost seems to good to be true. You skim over the rest of the legal jargon and company rules.

“Any questions?” He asks as you pick up a pen, you shake your head and sign both pieces of the paper, then hand it to him. He smiles signing it too and ripping off one of the pages handing it back to you.

“One last thing.” He says hesitating for a second. “Do you have a criminal record?”

“No,” you shake your head. He stands nodding and you get up too, as he walks round the desk, heading for the door to his office and you follow him.

“I’ll get one of the boys to show you round before you leave.” He says opening the door.

“MacTavish!” He calls as you follow him out the room. You watch as a man appears at the bottom of the steps, it’s the guy from earlier who was laughing. He’s defiantly good looking there’s no denying it.

“Come show our new recruit around.” He nods coming up the stairs.

“If you have any questions let me know and I’ll e-mail you a full copy of your contract.” John says as he puts his hand out and you shake it.

“I will thank you,” you smile and he heads back into his office.

“John MacTavish!” The man says extending his hand out to you, he’s got an accent for a second you look at him confused.

“Another John?” You ask as you shake his hand.

“Aye, most people call me Johnny though.” He winks. Now you’re sure he winked at you earlier. He walks round you over to the sofa’s and the pool table.

“This is where we chill out between deliveries, or just in general. Do you play?” He asks pointing at the pool table.

“Once or twice, at the pub.” You say. You’re still trying to pin his accent, Welsh or Scottish? You’re too embarrassed to ask. He comes back over to you and you see he’s walking with a limp, it’s especially obvious as you follow him down the steps and he has to grip the banister for support.

“This is were we load the vans up with anything we need, toilets over there and next to them is the store room.” He says pointing to the rooms directly under the upstairs office. There are metal shelves filled with all different kinds of things from basic office supplies to what looks like medical equipment and machinery. The store room door is the only door you’ve seen with a key-code lock on it, makes sense. There is a long table surrounded by chairs and a projector against a far wall. You look over to see another man sat at the table typing on a laptop.

“This is Simon, Simon Riley.” Johnny says as he takes you over. He’s wearing a hoodie pulled over his head and a black surgical mask. Maybe he’s a clean freak? Or maybe this was what John meant by ‘Your colleagues like to keep their work and home life separate.’ You extend your hand out too him as you approach.

“Nice to meet you.” You say, he looks up at you for a second. His eyes are beautiful, a dark caramel, thick eyebrows and you can see strands of blonde hair peaking out from under his hood. He shakes your hand, his grip is firm, you swallow hard. He’s giving off a different vibe then the rest of the people you’ve met so far, you almost want to run away from him.

“Don’t worry about him he’s always grumpy in the morning.” Johnny says leaning into your ear. Simon rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to typing on the laptop. John, Johnny, Simon and Kyle, you repeat the names in your head so they’re burned into your memory. Johnny continues his tour showing you round the main floor, you were right as he explained the building used to be a mechanics until they took it over. Before that it was an abandoned munitions processing plant from the second world war. The building did look old, stylish red brick, huge arched windows that let in a lot of natural light. The doors were even old on rollers, thick and wooden. The more you looked around the more it reminded you of the old workhouses you’d seen in history books. Johnny leads you through to the lobby, the only part of the building that seems to have been renovated in the last 10 years.

“This is Kyle Garrick, we call him Gaz.” Johnny says as Kyle stands up and you shake his hand. He’s fit too, dark skinned, short hair and he’s got a lovely smile, London accent you can tell he’s local too.

“This will be where you work.” Johnny says pulling the chair out.

“I’m sure Price will give you the rundown tomorrow on how the system works, we’re still working on getting it up and running properly.” Johnny says enthusiastically. You nod looking round at the desk, there is a large printer/photocopier in the corner and a plant that looks like it’s seen better days. At least the computer is up to date and honestly you can work with this.

“So nervous for your first day?” Johnny asks as Kyle sits back down.

“Not really.” You say smiling.

“Good lass, that’s what we like to hear!” Johnny says patting you on the shoulder. Scottish, definitely Scottish. Kyle chuckles as he goes back to typing on the computer. You feel like now is the best time to take your leave. You thank Johnny and tell them both you’ll see them tomorrow.

“Wait a second lass, here.” Johnny reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a business card.

“Any questions drop me a message.” He smiles. You nod pocketing the card and heading out. You look back at the building as you leave seeing Johnny wave, you wave back awkwardly. Why would anyone care about keeping there home and work life separate when you work for a simple delivery company? You think back to Simon with the mask, maybe he’s just hygienic? Regardless it was a good job, close to home and good pay. You wouldn’t have to rely on your mum or your ex to get you through the month. At least that was a weight off your shoulders.

——————————

Later that evening your mother calls.

“Hey mum.” You say as you reluctantly pick up the call, not really feeling in the mood for her energetic energy, especially after Johnny’s enthusiastic tour.

“Hey sweetie! I was just thinking about you today and I thought I would call to tell you, Anne from church has a job opening at her son’s restaurant. You know Chris? He works at that nice Italian place, well I said you were looking for a job and Anne said she would put in a good word.” You sigh as you let your mother talk.

“It’s okay mum I got a job today actually. I went for an interview and they offered me the job on the spot.” You say.

“Oh sweetie that’s amazing where is it?” She asks, you pause, maybe telling your over sharing mother about a job you were warned required discretion was not the best idea.

“It’s just a small firm in the city centre, they were looking for a logistical analyst.” You say lying through your teeth.

“Oh well that sounds fancy, I hope it pays well if you’ll have to be trudging into the centre of London everyday.” You hear her chuckle.

“It does mum don’t worry, I start tomorrow actually.”

“That’s fantastic, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks mum.” You say smiling. There’s a pause on the line.

“Have you spoken to Joe?” She asks, you sigh.

“No mother I have not spoken to him since we broke up.” You reply bitterly wanting to end the conversation now.

“He’s been asking about you, you blocked him or ignored him or something but sweetie I think you should talk to him he misses you.” You sigh, of course he’s turned on your mum, your sweet mother who couldn’t hurt a fly and always sees the best in people. Even toxic abusers.

“I’ll think about it mum, look I have to go I have an early start tomorrow.” You say.

“Okay well get a good rest and good luck for tomorrow I love you.” She says.

“I love you too,” you reply and hang up.

That night you dream of your ex. You’re still with him trapped in the cycle of wake, make him happy, work, make him happy, sleep, repeat. The verbal abuse, the physical abuse, the days he would lock you in the bathroom for hours on end.

You took the lock off the door when he moved out. You’re not sure why it just felt like the right thing to do. You bought a deadbolt for the front door and no longer sleep with the windows open, fearing he could scale the apartment building to get to you. That’s what he does in your dreams, he gets around all the precautions you put in place. You dream of him being in your space, questioning everything you do, insisting on checking your phone and e-mails, even your work ones. Anytime a male’s name came up he would grill you about it for hours, no matter what you said it always felt like he never believed you. But then he would make you feel good, take you to the bedroom and treat you like a princess and it was like he was a different person.

‘He’s just protective sweetie’ your mother says. ‘He loves you.’ The bruises on your arm would say otherwise, wearing turtle necks in summer became your fashion statement for at least a year. ‘He probably doesn’t mean it have you tried talking to him?’ Your brother was no better, to busy with uni to care, too much of a mans man to understand. He’s gone now though and that’s what you have to remember, it’s easier said then done.

——————————

The next morning you show up early. Your body feels heavy after the restless night. You walk in seeing John bent over Kyle’s shoulder as their looking at something on the computer behind the counter.

“Hey, maybe you can figure this out, we’ve been trying to get these documents to copy over and it’s just not working.” Price says as he steps back you walk round watching Kyle trying to drag and drop a file into a folder. An administrative error pops up.

“Mind if I?” You gesture for Kyle to move he holds his hands up rolling away on the chair as you try again. You’re not the most competent with computers but you could probably figure it out. You try compressing the file first then moving it and it works.

“What did you do?” Kyle asks.

“I think the file was too big so I compressed it, do you need it sent in an e-mail?” You ask looking at John.

“Yes please if you don’t mind.” You nod.

“Coffee?” Kyle asks as he gets up out the seat heading into the main building.

“Yes please.” You say turning to smile at him and pulling the chair over so you can sit down. Price explains how everything works as you get situated. He shows you the documents on the computer for how to answer the phone, and deal with walk in requests. The ‘system’ they have set up for assigning deliveries is basically just a glorified spreadsheet which is good, you can work with that it’s not too far out of your comfort zone.

“If you have any questions just call, there is a direct line to my office if you press 1 on the phone.” You nod trying to take it all in as Kyle comes back with a cup of coffee.

“I didn’t know how you took it so I just did milk.” He says.

“That’s fine thank you.” You reply, as he places it next to you. Then heads back. John tells you again to ask if you need anything then also leaves you too it. You’re looking through the computer making sure you defiantly understand everything when Simon and Johnny walk in.

“Morning,” you say to them smiling.

“Morning lass, guess we didn’t scare you away yesterday!” Johnny beams, he seems to have too much energy especially compered to Simon who is still sporting his hoodie and mask combo. His eyes lock onto you as he walks through the lobby, his glare sending shivers down your spine. In a strange way, you’re not scared of him, more intrigued. He walks through the counter to the main floor without saying anything.

“Sorry, he’s a rude bastard when he hasn’t had a coffee yet.” Johnny says.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. You look through the window into the main floor watching Gaz open the large garage doors out to the street.

“Hey, if we’re both around at 12 want to get lunch together? I know this great sandwich place down the road my treat!” Johnny says. You nod, he really has a way of putting you at ease with his palpable bubbly energy.

“Right, I’ll see ya then lass,” he says and he heads through.

The morning goes quick or maybe it’s because everything feels so new and foreign that it takes you a lot of concentration to make sure you’re doing it right. Before you even try to do anything you’re already calling John in his office about the names, instead of it being Johnny, Simon and Kyle, it’s Gaz, Soap and Ghost. Gaz you remember but the other two it’s a 50/50. John laughs and tells you Soap is Johnny and Ghost is Simon.

Each time you give them a job they stick their heads round the door to pick up the invoice, you try to make it a habit of printing it out as soon as you assign the job, so it’s ready when they come in. You purposely give Simon a job over lunch so Johnny is free, it’s a little cheeky for your first day but you wouldn’t mind spending more time with Johnny.

When lunch comes around Johnny shows you how to set the phone to go to Price’s office and you both leave. The shop is right round the corner but by this time of the day it’s packed with people on their lunch break, you order your sandwiches to go and head back to work to eat them there. You’re both sat upstairs in on the sofa’s, it is nice up here and you can see down to the floor below you gives you something to watch while you eat.

“How’s your first day been so far then?” Johnny asks.

“Fine, it’s just getting used to the system that might take a while.” You confess.

“Yeah, you’re doing great though, my jobs have been smooth and easy all day.” He says. You nod.

“So how did you all meet?” You ask.

“Now that’s a story!” He says sitting up in his chair.

“We were all military together, SAS.” He says. That explains the company name Special Delivery Service, you chuckle it’s cute, funny now you get it.

“Why’d you quit?” You ask.

“Our time was up we chose not to re-enlist, it was Simon’s idea to start a delivery company, something easy we could do in retirement.” He says smiling at your interest.

“Did you ever kill anyone?” You ask, but then immediately regret it, you don’t know if that’s an appropriate question to ask. Johnny just laughs.

“Someone's got to deal with the bad guys.” He says winking.

“Don’t mean they didn’t fight back. Got a nice fucked up knee to show for it.” Johnny says slapping his left leg. That explains the limp he always has when hes walking.

“Has John always been your boss?” You ask moving it away from killing people and being shot.

“Price, yeah he was our captain, it just felt right letting him continue to tell us what to do.” Johnny explains, chuckling. You nod listening to him talk about their life in the military, he’s careful not to go too into specifics, but enough for you to understand it seemed like it was quite a dangerous job. Johnny mentioned something about bombs at one point, that’s scary.

“I bet you travelled a lot though?” You ask finishing your sandwich.

“Oh yeah! That was one of the perks I guess, been all over the place, met some great people.” Johnny says naming a bunch of countries off. You watch as Simon comes back reversing the van into the bay. He jumps out and heads straight into the store room. That reminded you you needed to ask for the code. Johnny gets up checking his watch and throwing his trash in the bin.

“Got a delivery to make, I’ll see you later.” He says heading to the stairs. You nod smiling. When you’re done you knock on John’s door before you head downstairs.

“Come in!” He calls. You go in, for some reason you get this feeling like you’re back at school walking into a teachers office about to ask them for the key to the storage room to get more paper.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks smiling, it almost immediately puts you at ease.

“Good, I was just wondering, the store room, Johnny showed me yesterday but he didn’t give me the code.” You explain. Price nods his head.

“You don’t need the code, it’s for the drivers only, it’s where we keep, sensitive equipment.” He explains. You nod feeling heat rush to your cheeks, maybe you should have asked Johnny instead saved yourself the embarrassment of this conversation.

“Got it, thank you.” You nod leaving the room and closing the door behind you. What kind of sensitive equipment? You hadn’t seen anyone moving anything in or out of there, and you’re pretty sure you saw Simon go in empty handed just now. You’re just more curious then ever. You look down the steps at Simon making his way up with a mug of tea in his hand. You wait until he has reached the top of the stairs before heading down. You smile at him, you can’t tell if he’s smiling back with the mask but you’re assuming he’s not. You make your way back down as he walks into John’s office without knocking.

The rest of the day seems to go by slower, your mind obsessing over the store room for some reason. It’s like an itch you need to scratch, you find yourself looking over to check it now and again. You get a few of those ‘special request’s’ John warned you about, you try to assign them but it doesn’t work. Clearly the system does not like it so you send them off to John. It’s almost like they’re encrypted, maybe you could figure out how to fix it and stop the system from freezing up every time it happens, a task for next week you think.

Jobs stop coming through around 3 and you spend the last few hours of your shift catching up on the other part of your admin job, then you find yourself cleaning the coffee machine. Johnny and Gaz leave early, apparently this is normal for Friday, you wish them a good weekend as they leave going out the vehicle entrance closing the garage doors behind them. You head to use the bathroom next, as you’re washing your hands you hear the door of the store room beep open and the sound of feet running in and out. You hear it open but you don’t hear it close.

You hold your breath, could it be? It’s open. You’re excited for some reason. You quickly slip out cracking the door. Sure enough the door didn’t fully close it’s stuck on the latch. Your curiosity gets the better of you, you can’t help it. You look round quickly, you don’t see anyone, you don’t hear anyone. You push the door open, it’s dark you can’t see inside. You take a step in and an automatic light flicks on. You gasp as you look around the room. It’s way bigger then you expected, so big there is enough room for a table in the middle. Each part of the wall is covered in weapons, knifes, somethings you don’t even know what they would be but they look scary.

The hairs are standing up on the back of your neck, it’s almost like your fight or flight has kicked in as your eyes widen. There are crates everywhere some open with what look like boxes of ammo. You let out a breath feeling fear rise in you, maybe it was airsoft? You move to look in one of the crates near the entrance. Nope those are real bullets. You shouldn’t have seen this you feel panic rising. This is bad and very illegal. You start to back out the room, slowly you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Your body hits something, not something someone. You hear a sigh.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” It’s Simon. You slowly turn his head is tilted to the side his brow creased as his gaze burns into you. Fuck.

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xzaddyzanakinx · 10 months ago

Text

My Best Girl

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x Femme Reader Oneshot

18+ MDNI

Warnings: domestic violence/abuse, non-con/dub-con, oral sex, emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting

Info: this is a graphic and accurate depiction of an instance of domestic abuse/non-con. Read at your own risk.

🕊dead dove do not eat🕊

“Don't lie to me," he snarled, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. "I saw you."

He leaned in closer, his ice blue eyes boring into yours, filled with pure undiluted jealousy.

"Tell me the truth." Anakin’s fingers dug into your wrists just like your knees dug into the tile of the kitchen floor.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter, having a wonderful little moment to yourself. A big tall glass of blue koolaid, your favorite snack and your comfort cartoon playing quietly on your phone for background noise while you worked diligently on repairing your younger brother Luke’s loth-cat stuffie.

The poor thing had been through the wringer this week; left all alone in the cold dark cubby overnight in his preschool classroom, ran over by Leia’s tricycle, and his undoing was being left unattended in the living room under the watchful eye of your family dog. The horrible shriek that pierced your ears was enough to burst your eardrums, you went rushing, hoping that you didn’t walk into a bloody mess.

Though the tantrum that ensued after his initial shock was more than enough to wish maybe just alittle bit that Leia had just wacked him upside the head with her toy doctor’s kit again.

You’d sworn on your life that his ‘only best friend’ would have his leg reattached and in it’s rightful place under his arm when he woke up tomorrow morning.

So there you sat, sewing his leg back on when your stepfather Anakin returned home from work. Covered in oil and grease from his day at the garage, he walked past the kitchen and gave you a wave and crooked smile. You gladly returned the gesture, your relationship with your stepdad had begun rocky, arguments and mean words exchanged on a daily basis. But now, months later, you’d finally begun to get along.

He was a good man, a good dad; it wasn’t his fault that he had a bit of an anger issue. He worked hard to keep it in check, attending therapy, taking CBD gummies, he even tried meditating.

You’d quickly come to realize that his anger was a front to hide his vulnerabilities. He was a horribly cocky and arrogant person outwardly. But inside, tucked away in a beat up box, was a messily stored collection of vulnerabilities and insecurities.

Anakin thrived on praise and affection, he was happiest when he was eight inches deep in your poor little fucked-out pussy. Bathing in the sounds of your babbled compliments, the sweet lilt of your whiny voice when you begged him for more. His favorite thing? The best compliment? The quickest way to reassure him of his worth? That was the devastatingly wet *shlck* of his cock sliding home between your thighs.

It never failed to astound him. The way your body responded to him, the way you were tucked under his thumb. When he was pounding into you night after night while your mother worked the late shift; that’s when he truly came to life.

You made him feel needed. Wanted. Valued. But most importantly? Worshipped.

There was nothing else like the rush of warm adoration he felt from every little noise your pretty mouth made. It flowed over his tired, work-worn body and soothed all his stress away. He needed it. He craved it. He had to have it.

You.

You were the only thing that mattered.

It would be an understatement to say that he regretted marrying your mother. Every second of every day he hated her more. She wasn’t you. She could never be you.

Divorce, the hours of research on annulments, laws and stipulations, the legality of things. He’d searched through it all. He had the best lawyer in the state on speed-dial. Set on retainer for the moment he saw his opportunity to snatch up his brand new trophy wife.

But it’s not exactly acceptable to divorce your wife of six months to run off with her freshly 18 year old daughter is it? No. But was he going to do it? Absolutely.

You were his good girl.

You were his good girl, til now.

Anakin crouched down in front of you, getting on your level somehow made you feel even smaller. Any other time you would’ve taken the time to admire his freshly washed hair that stuck to his forehead in little swoops, the scent of his cedar soap, his bare chest and that delicious V carved into his lower abdomen.

But instead all you could see was the hard line of his lips, his knitted eyebrows… he was trying so hard to be angry. But you could tell he was just in pain, those big beautiful blue eyes were holding back tears, and you so badly wanted to comfort him, to make him understand.

“Anakin. Please listen.” You pleaded with him, desperate to get him to hear you out.

“Oh? I’ve been listening.” He stood back up and grabbed your hair roughly, tilting your head back to force you into eye contact. “I just don’t believe what I heard.”

“Just look!” You said gesturing at your phone laying on the counter near him, the screen cracked. “Please just look at you’ll see.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Seeing what I already know is there.” He scowled.

“Am I not good enough for you?” He hissed, shaking your head by your hair. “Is that it?”

Before you could even answer him he grabbed your jaw and pried your mouth open and shoved two fingers down your throat.

“That’s alright. You don’t deserve me anyway.”

Collecting your saliva on his digits, he removed his fingers and flicked the spit on your face, making you flinch.

“Not even gonna waste my spit on you.” His voice tinged with hurt under the grit of his anger.

Your eyes welled up with tears, never had he spoken to you this way. You never imagined that he was capable of being so mean. Of course he had his issues, you’d argued plenty before you both finally allowed the hands of fate to shove you into each other’s arms. But never like this.

“I come home from work, see you sitting all pretty and patient for me.” He starts, his voice low and dark.

“Then I come back from the shower, ready to hold and love and spoil you just like I do every night. I leaned in to give you a sweet little kiss and what do I see?” You weren’t sure if he wanted an answer, so you stayed silent and waited. Apparently that was the wrong thing to do.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He grumbled. “You were so eager to talk earlier, so fucking talk.”

“You saw me decline a phone call.” You said quietly, trying hard to keep eye contact with him through the blurriness in your vision.

“A phone call from who?” He prodded.

“My friend Tyler.” You answered meekly.

“Exactly.” He released your hair by pushing you backwards, causing you to catch yourself with your elbow right on the granite tile flooring.

Pain shot up your upper arm and wracked your body with a momentary spasm of tension as your brain tried to sort out this new pain. Extended your arm gently you breathed in relief that it wasn’t actually damaged, but you would definitely have a gnarly bruise.

Anakin had turned around, his back to you. One hand on the kitchen counter and the other ruffling his wet hair, shaking off water droplets as he did so.

“Why?” He asked, his tone quieter but no less menacing. “Why would you hang up like that if there wasn’t anything to hide?”

“B-because Ani, I was talking to you!” You tried to explain as you stood up and hesitantly stepped closer to him.

“Don’t.” He barked over his shoulder. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

“I was- okay.” You said, backing away.

“Anakin I was just trying to focus on you that’s all. You’d just gotten home, I didn’t want to be bothered while I was spending time with you.” Your whisper sounded cracked, broken.

“Why is a boy calling you at 8:00 on a Friday huh?” He spun around quickly and grabbed your arm.

“They’re not a-“ You tried to speak, to explain yourself but he didn’t give you a second breath.

He stole the air from your lungs and the words from your mouth with a resounding *smack* to your cheek. The impact was so forceful that your head felt like it was on swivel and you stumbled back. Too shocked to even cry, too hurt to look at him.

“Were you planning to cheat? Is that what this is?” He scoffed.

“N-no!” You squeaked. “No I wouldn’t! Never!”

He laughed, not in amusement or cynicism, but in a strangled bout of hysteria.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” His teeth clenched and bared.

“You think someone else would treat you as well as I do? That they’d be able to put up with your attitude?” He laughed again, pointing his finger in your face.

“You’re a fucking brat you know that? There’s not another man in this galaxy who could love you like I do. You’re a spoiled bitch. But you’re my spoiled bitch.”

You flinched at his choice of words. He’d called you a brat plenty of times, sometimes even as a term of endearment. Bitch though? The thought of him calling you that was previously inconceivable.

“You want me to show you how someone else would treat you? How this stupid fucker Tyler would handle you?” He growled, putting a hand on the back of your neck and forcing you to your knees.

“Anakin wait! Just let-“ He shoved your face into the soft flannel of his pajama pants, fisting your hair to hold you in place while he ground his cock across your tear stained cheeks.

“No sweetheart I’m not Anakin right now remember? I’m anyone but me.” He corrected you.

“Take your fucking shirt off. I want to see those pretty tits.” He smirked as he watched you quickly comply. “There. Not so difficult Hmm?”

You shook your head no in agreement with him, hoping to appease him. You had no idea where this was going, but you knew for damn sure that you weren’t gonna like it.

“That’s right.” He said as he gripped your jaw once more, chuckling when you instinctively dropped your mouth open. “That was the last easy thing you’ll be doing tonight.”

“Pull out my cock.” He demanded, the look on his face giving no indication that this was negotiable.

You hesitated, then steeled yourself to comply with his order. His pretty cock, the beautiful thing that made you feel like you were floating amongst the clouds… was standing tall and proud. This was the only time you’d ever been unhappy to see it and you hoped it was the last time too.

“Oh don’t look at me like that.” He grumbled. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? To be a whore? To cheat on me?”

“No! Anakin Tyler isn’t-“ He scoffed and took advantage of your open mouth and forced your head down around his length.

“Fuck.” He mumbled his stomach muscles tightened momentarily before relaxing again.

“Finally some fucking peace and quiet. I’m sick of your whining. I don’t ever want to hear that fuckboy’s name again do you understand me?” He growled, his eyes filled with jealousy painted red with rage.

Anakin started to thrust quick and shallow into your mouth panting while he glared down at you like you were his mortal enemy.

“You like this?” He asked, watching you shake your head no vigorously. “No? Didn’t think you would.”

“Can’t fucking believe this shit.” He moaned, tipping his head back toward the ceiling before letting his chin fall to his chest.

He growled, seeing you drool down the column of your throat. A fire lit behind his eyes and burst into an inferno after only seconds of this brutal punishment.

“Move your tongue.” He commanded, jerking your head to the side when you didn’t do it immediately. “Fuck, that’s better.”

Your tongue lay flat against the under side of his shaft as his cockhead started to bully its way down your throat, in and out in deep ruthless strokes. Tears pricked your eyes and began to fall, this time from discomfort instead of the horrible emotional pain he’d dealt to you.

“What?” He laughed again, looking down at you with a menacing grin that didn’t meet his glassy eyes. “Don’t wanna be a whore anymore do you?”

You shook your head no to the best of your ability and Anakin nodded in agreement, his breath caught in his throat just like his cock was stuck in yours.

“This is how men treat whores.” He said matter of factly. “Like a stupid little fuck toy. Do you want to be a stupid fuck toy?”

“No of course you don’t.” He tsk’d. “You want to be my good girl, my sweet princess.”

You nodded vigorously, choking on his length accidentally from the quick movement.

Your gag reflex kicked in violently, caused by your choking fit as you tried to cough, your body begging for some control to be returned to you. You struggled to breathe as he continued his brutal assault on your throat. But despite the pain, there was an odd thrill running through you, a sick satisfaction knowing you were pleasing him in this way. You should hate him for what he’s doing right now, but it would be a lie if you said you didn’t find it alittle bit hot.

He was unraveling quickly, his hips snapping fast and deep. You heard the familiar change in breathing that happen just moments before he would cum, the cute little high-pitched whimpers that left his beautiful plump lips.

You tapped his thigh, looking up at him with furrowed brows and pleading eyes. Begging him to relent for just moment so you could breathe.

“No, I’m close. You can wait." he growled back, his pace unrelenting, but his voice becoming shaky.

“I don’t understand.” He panted, looking down at you with a pained expression. “Why would you want to be treated this way when I give you all the love in the world? When I love you so much?

“Seeing you hurt like this baby… it hurts me.” He sniffled, on the verge of tears.

“Just think, imagine it sweetheart; what if you went out there tonight and that horrible guy did this to you?” His eyebrows turned up in a deep swoop.

“You know I’m only doing this to help you right baby?” He let out a choked sob as his cock twitched in your mouth.

“I don’t want you to get hurt! I love you!” He cried out, his own tears freely flowing, salty drips hitting your face as he stared down at you with the face of a broken man.

“Promise me you won’t ever make me do this again.” He whispered, lovingly wiping the tears from your eyes. “I can’t stand it.”

“Promise? You won’t ever do it again? Please baby.” He cried, his chest heaving with a sob as his face scrunched up.

“Can’t do that to me, you can’t! I’d die.” He was practically hysterical, seeing him like this was tearing you apart in ways his rough treatment couldn’t. The pain and torture in his voice was a worse punishment.

“I wouldn’t wanna live without you. I wouldn’t.” He sobbed, his thumbs softly caress your cheekbones made you forget all about the way he was brutalizing you. It made you forget the hurtful things he’d said. You weren’t even sure your throat would be sore after this; how could it be worse than having your heart bruised the way Anakin’s must be?

“My sweet girl.” He sniffled. “My poor baby, I’m sorry. So sorry I had to do this. You understood don’t you doll?

You nodded, crying for an entirely different reason now. If you could, you’d be wailing. Pleading with him as you comforted him with kisses and gentle touches, holding him as he cried over your actions. How could you have done this? How could you be so cruel!?

“Good girl baby.” He hiccuped. “Good girl. I love you. Love you so much babydoll, g-gonna hold you n’ make love to you like you deserve.”

His hips stuttered against your mouth, his stomach tense and his hand tightened around your hair.

“My best girl.” He whined. “Do you want my cum? Those horrible bad men wouldn’t give it to you. They wouldn’t know how much you love it.”

You nodded, eyes rolling back in your head. He’s right. They wouldn’t know, how could they know? No one knew you like Anakin did.

“Mmm… yeah? G-goddamn.” He whimpered, pushing your face deep into his groin, your nose pressed firmly into the curly hairs at the base of his cock.

He sobbed, a full loud heart-wrenching sob as he came violently down your throat. You gratefully drank it down, thankful he’d let you have it after all you’d put him through.

Gently he pulled himself from your mouth, wiping his eyes dry as he sniffled. Tucking himself back into his pants before scooping you up into his arms and rocking you against his chest. Then he walked over to the recliner in the living room and sat down with you.

He let you cry it out while showering you with love and affection and beautiful sweet words in his warm honeyed voice. Finally once you’d calmed down he tilted your chin up to face him. Giving you a slow sensual kiss. The kind of kiss that was almost sticky, your lips wanting to stay connected for as long as possible.

“Are you okay sweetheart? Do you need anything?” He whispered against your lips in a pleading tone.

“No.” You shook your head, still taking shaky short gasping breaths. “M’so sorry Ani.”

“Oh baby. No, it’s okay.” He cooed. “You didn’t know. That’s why I had to teach you huh?”

“Uh huh.” You sniffled.

“You understand now don’t you doll? No body could ever love you like I do.” He squeezed you tightly as you agreed.

“That was horrible wasn’t it?” He sighed. “Those other boys… oh princess it would be so much worse you know that?”

“I couldn’t be as mean to you as they could, not even half as bad.” He said softly as if the information were scary to even say outloud.

“R-really?” You squeaked, not even half as bad? You shivered at the thought that if could ever be worse than he’d shown you.

“Yes baby.” He nodded, a sad and solemn expression on his tear streaked face.

“Th-thank you Ani.” You sniffled. Feeling grateful that he wasn’t even capable of what must be such horrendous brutality.

“Oh sweetheart. Don’t thank me,” he whispered, petting your head. “Just hold me and I’ll hold you okay? We both need alittle extra snuggles tonight after that don’t we?”

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