*:ïœ„ïœĄâ warnings: attempts at sexual assault/rape, gore and violence, blood and mentions of broken bones, undertones of domestic violence/relationship, descriptions of drowning. if i missed any let me know!
ăâă desc: reader sort of gets jumped in an alleyway after work and it leads to her first encounter/interaction with venom! also, you guys are in a relationship with an asshole, but youâll get rescued from that as well eventually <3 sorry! with fluff and love comes angst and brutality.
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ââ© RUSH HOUR P. ii â©â
word count â 2.2k
a/n: hi! i hope you guys enjoy this next part where we sort of get more in depth with the readerâs situation n such. iâm considering adding a tag list once this gets more popular:) but i also just want to get together and make a better layout đ</3 anywaysârequests for one shots and short series are open!
Six oâclock; you were burnt out and more than ready to go home.
All your belongings were together and you waved your boss, Richie, goodbye as you walked out the doors of the café.
You had some time to stop at Mrs. Chenâs for an ice cream and teabags - you adored the idea of slipping into a warm bath with candles surrounding you as you sipped hot tea.
Normally, you wouldâve drove home, but you had your car in the shop for repairs and you couldnât pick it up at the moment.
Not that you didnât enjoy walking; but waking up an hour earlier than youâre used to was something that bothered you since you still had to do your makeup and pack your lunch, then leave at least forty-five minutes earlier than you would with your car just to assure youâll make it in time for your shift.
You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and walked across the street - you could easily take a shortcut through a nearby alleyway.
It didnât sound too safe to you, but your ankles were killing you and the nearest bus stop was still under construction from being totaled during the last run-in with that black monster with the bright white eyes.
You were at home watching the chase occur on T.V, your hair messy from barely just waking up as you stuffed your face with Corn Flakes.
It was incredible; the monster had picked up two parked carsâwhile riding on top of a city busâlike they were nothing, and threw them at six men riding motorcycles, shooting out tendrils from itâs body to climb buildings and fling itself from one to another at incredible speed.
Four of the men were hit by one of the cars, two of them coming into collision with the bus stop along with the car.
Never have you seen something along the lines.
You paused in your steps as you made it halfway through the agonizing tunnel, an uncomfortable feeling causing the hairs on the nape of your neck to rise.
For a few moments, your eyes scanned the area, then you took a few more steps forward before you quickened your pace.
Something or someone was on your trail and you just hoped they would eventually go away - you didnât have a lot of money to spare.
It felt as if the alleyway walls were closing on you, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as your breath grew rapidly, feeling like tidal waves in your throat.
You felt your arm clutch your handbag as the back of your shirt was yanked, digging into the skin of your neck, tears stung in your eyes and you let out a croak.
A hand met your throat, leaning your head back aggressively as another searched the pocket of your dirty slack pants.
âWhat dâya have to offer me, sweet thing?â a groggy and disgusting voice purred against the shell of your ear, breathing into it deeply.
A coin or two rolled out of your pants, causing you to flinch.
âLet me go,â you hissed, squeezing back tears from waterfalling down your cheeks.
âI could take you on right here right now,â he chuckled, gripping your waist over your shirt, you instinctively raised on your tippy toes as panic drew from your body.
âDonât you goddamn touch me,â
His hand lowered to rub at your lower abdomen, ghosting your belly button.
âStop!â you squealed and wiggled in his arms as he dug his uncut fingernails into your hips; it stung and definitely would cause bruising, which was something you didnât know youâd be able to explain to your boyfriend.
You flung your head back and he stumbled backwards, so you took your chance to flee; his hand gripped your hair and you immediately reacted by letting out a painful cry.
âLet go, let go,â you pleaded, gasping as he tugged harder. You kicked your legs.
Your face slammed to the floor after you landed on your ankle and you screamed right then and there - a harrowing pain shot down to your ankle.
Tears streamed down your face as he pulled you by that same ankle, you choked out a tortured moan and turned on your back to thrash at anything that tried to get near you.
As you suddenly felt his grip release your body, you curled into a ball and wailed into your knees, your left eye throbbed as bruising slowly formed under your meek skin.
You flinched as you heard the male scream, causing your entire figure to tremble, your lip was swollen from biting down on it.
Sounds of squelching, muscles tearing and wet bones popping - you flinched against the floor as you felt a rich liquid splatter against your face. You felt you might vomit.
A sickening crunch caused you to let out a sharp whimper; then again, again, againâŠ
Just when you thought it was over, a dismembered arm fell beside you, facing you, and you let out a croaked shriek, immediately jerking your body away, watching a blackâŠarm? Sweep it up, the same gory sounds filling your ears once again.
Slowly, you adjusted to the sound; limp against the floor, scared that any move you made would cause you to be pinned to the floor with a searing sharpness plunged through your chest.
You halted your breathing as you were slowly lifted from the floor.
âMORSEL,â a cavernous voice that sounded like the darkness itself purred close to your ear. âWE WILL NOT HURT YOU.â
You felt something snake around your injured ankle, securing it in place so it wouldnât dangle.
Everything felt hazy; head pounding, ankle burning and swelling, your heart booming with fear.
It didnât take long for you to pass out in your rescuers arms - large, huge, muscled arms.
âŠ
When you awoke, you were hooked up to an IV bag dressed in a thin blue hospital gown with the room spinning in your vision.
âHello?â you croaked as you wriggled, immediately gaining a smack of pain in the back of your head.
âYouâre awake,â a womanâs soothing voice caught your attention. âDonât try to move so much, you suffered a concussion.â
âWhere am Iâhow long have I been asleep?â Finally, you found her face - a young nurse with thick brunette locks cradling her face. Sheâs holding a tray of food; chocolate pudding, salisbury steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, and thickly sliced carrots, topped off with a grape sugar-free juice box.
âThe hospital, dear - about three days,â she placed the tray on your lap, which you took with both hands. âItâs Tuesday.â
âI have work tomorrow, I canât stay, I need to go,â you try to sit yourself up further, though she pressed a hand on your shoulder and pushed you down gently.
âWe will have you checked out this evening - can you tell me why youâre here?â
Your eyes locked with hers, then at the tan tray.
âI donât remember,â
âThatâs alright, do you remember the man that brought you in?â
A man? You didnât remember a man taking you in; however, you vividly remembered the one who had hurt you.
âIs he here?â
She shook her head, then grabbed a styrofoam cup, you grabbed it from her as she held it out and took a large sip.
It drowned your dry gullet in the cold liquid and it felt heavenly - never have you ever had such difficulty swallowing.
She took it back from you after you closed your eyes, leaning back in the adjustable bed.
âThe doctor is going to come in for a small little check-in to make sure you haven't suffered from any amnesia - thereâs a small button on the right side of your bed you can press if anything is needed, okay?â She removed her gloves and threw them in the trash bin, pulling out a second pair.
âThank you,â you hum.
âYou should be free to go if there are not any more issues; but, please try to eat,â she left the room after giving you a pleading smile, her eyebrows pinched together worryingly.
You didnât have an appetite for someone who hasn't eaten in three days, but you took a small nibble out of the salisbury steak in pity.
Immediate regret coursed through you as you spat it out in a napkin.
Hospital food was definitely something you didnât feel like eating for the first time in that small span.
Perhaps some Thai food, or some simple fruit. A thick ribeye.
You gasped.
Your boyfriend; he must be confused as to why you havenât been home the past few days.
Even if it was a nice escape from him, you knew you wouldnât hear the end of it when you got back. Where was your phone? Your belongings?
You had your credit card in your purse. Panic swarmed through your chest at full speed.
Two nurses rushed in at the sound of your heart monitor screaming from the adrenaline racing through you, causing your muscles to tense up.
âHoney, whatâs wrong?â one nurse slid to your side and held your wrist reassuringly, the other stood back by the door in case she was to be ordered to request more assistance.
âMy things, whereââ you breathed in heavily, then breathed out in an attempt to soothe yourself.
âYour bag is on the floor under the bed, everything was retrieved and nothing was stolen; the man who brought you in made sure of that.â
That was enough for you to relax, your breathing slowed which allowed the nurse to step away and for you to lean back.
âPhone, please,â you gave the ravenette a tiresome smile.
She bent down and grabbed it from your bag, then set it on the bed on top of your lap.
âThank you, Iâm sorry,â you glanced over at the other nurse.
âItâs our job, sweetheart,â she began walking towards the door, following her out the door.
You picked your phone up and scrolled through your missed calls, a whopping number sixteen above your significant otherâs name.
It rang twice before he answered.
âWhere the hell have you been? Where are you?â his voice was angry, pure rage in his voice.
âVinceââ you blurted.
âNo, donât fucking say my nameâI want you home, now.â
âIâm at the hospital, Vincent, I have to wait to be dismissedââ you frowned.
âHospitalâwhat?â he scoffed. âThree fucking days?â
No concern was found in his voice, leaving you baffled.
âYouâre shitting me,â he hung up the phone, which you somewhat considered a relief.
Your eyes narrowed as a man entered the room with a clipboard in his hand, his eyes dragging to yours with nothing but kindness. He calls your name in confirmation, you nod.
âOkay, so there are no other complications regarding your health or physical condition. You just are recovering from a minor concussion and a sprained ankle which weâve treated with R.I.C.E. Itâs now in a brace, and Iâve collected your prescription.â He pauses a moment, handing the orange bottle out to you, which you grab.
âOne half of the pill in the morning, the other before bed. It will help reduce pain and swelling, however, making sure to also keep your ankle elevated above your heart as much as possible is crucial to your recovery. Any questions?â The doctor says everything in the simplest manner, allowing you to understand the circumstances.
âI have to return to work tomorrow, do you know if that would be okay?â You purse your lips. He lets out a small hum.
âItâs a possibility, but if you plan to be maneuvering around a lot, we prefer you stay home with the certification of injury. If not possible though, stay on crutches to avoid pressure on your ankle.â His lips curl into a polite smile, which you return.
âWill do, doc. Thank you.â You say gently as you lift your body up slightly.
One nurse comes in and detaches the sling holding your ankle up, setting your leg down with care. Another comes in with a wheelchair, and he stops it at the left side of your bed.
Carefully, youâre hoisted up by the arms of the nurses, and settled down onto the wheelchair.
Youâre pushed outside of your room and down the hallway until your sat in front of the reception desk grabbing a clipboard.
Pinned to it, a âpatient feedback formâ and a pen clasped under the clip.
It doesnât take you very long to fill it out, and once you do, you hand it back to the nurse at the handling desk, who offers you a small thank you before she picks the phone back up to answer calls.
Youâre guided towards the exit, the doors automatically sliding open as you pass the weapon detectors.
Outside, Vincentâs Ford Bronco sits waiting for you. Somehow you canât find comfort in seeing the side of his face through the passenger seat window.
You feel as if you were bracing yourself for the worst as you watch his eyes lock with yours.
You feel as if you were at the bottom of an open lake feeling water pressure against your esophagus and every ounce of air stored left in you disintegrate as you hear his truck door slam.
You feel as if there were pins and needles below you on an open platform as he walks towards you, hands in the pocket of his tattered old green flannel.
You feel a dry thickness in the back of your throat as his hands grip the hand rests of your wheelchair and push you towards his slate blue car.
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