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Giovanni Is Just the Worst Boss (part two)

The conclusion. I put warnings for the really bad stuff in the tags as well as the preamble.

Part one is here.

Content Warnings: Abuse; workplace violence; misunderstanding of medical issues and injuries; Giovanni on crack; Giovanni says the r slur; workplace sexual abuse; death and rape threat and mention; Jesus Hades Christ twelve!me tortured James a lot in fic

-O-o-O-o-O-

That night, James cooked dinner without a word. Not that that was strange. Even if he wasn’t talking, he would usually be smiling.

But he wasn’t.

I could’ve sworn I saw him wipe away tears.

After dinner, Jessie and I got James and sat him down on the couch. We were going to have a nice, long talk about why he was injured five times in a row.

“Okay. Spill it. Why were you injured five times in a row? How did you get those injuries? Why did you—”

I cut Jessie off. “You can’t just start firing a million questions in his face. Give him a chance to answer,” I said.

“All right. James, how did you get those injuries?” Jessie asked.

“I was hurt,” James said quietly.

“By whom?”

“I….I can’t say.”

“I’m just going to keep asking until I get an answer.”

“Don’t you think maybe he’s afraid to say?” I asked.

“Please, Meowth. He’d only be afraid to say if the boss was hurting him,” Jessie said.

I saw James looked scared. “James? Was it the boss?” I asked. “Has he been abusing you?”

James nodded and started to cry quietly.

“Why were you hiding it?” I asked.

“The boss said that he’d know if I’d told anyone because either I wouldn’t show up or you guys would go to his office,” James said through his tears.

“We can’t send you back there,” Jessie said.

“But he’ll know I told you and he’ll kill us all,” James said.

“But we can’t let him abuse you like this,” I said. “Maybe you could go in and we could stand out of sight if you need backup.”

“That’s a good idea!” Jessie said. James managed a small smile.

Operation Peek-a-boo was underway.

-O-o-O-

One thing got in the way of our plan. James got sick the next day.

We panicked. James, who was in no condition to panic, passed out. I wiped cold water on his face until he woke up.

“What are we going to do?” Jessie said.

James just said, “Don’t worry. I wasn’t feeling well for the past two days and I think I’m getting over it.”

Then how come you can barely stand up, I thought.

James still had to go to the boss’s office. We couldn’t stay out of sight because one of us had to stay with James in case he fainted. Lucky for us, the boss was drunk.

Actually, it wasn’t that lucky because the boss could’ve had a fit.

I went in with James. The boss threw an empty beer bottle at James. It hit James and fell on the floor.

We were lucky it didn’t shatter.

The boss took out a crackpipe and started smoking it. James hid behind a door. I followed.

“Hey, what are you hiding for?” the boss yelled. “Get out here, you retarded boy.”

James walked out there. I couldn’t believe he was letting the boss mistreat him like that. The boss touched James in some places that he shouldn’t. The boss must’ve been on drugs. He poked James in his nethers. I jumped out, in front of James.

The boss touched the red flag area. I wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

-O-o-O-

“What are you doing!” the boss yelled. He was coughing smoke from the crackpipe in James’s face.

I scratched the boss across his face. I helped James by jumping up and breaking the crackpipe. We both ran out of there.

Jessie saw us and started running, too. We all ran back to the cabin.

James collapsed on the bed as soon as we got in. His face as completely drained, except for a red flush. His breathing was unsteady. I knew his condition had gotten worse than it was in the morning.

I helped James into bed and gave him medicine. He was able to think more clearly and was stronger by the end of the day.

James’s sickness aside, Operation Peek-a-boo was a success.

-O-o-O-

We ended up running away after that. The boss was so drunk or on crack, he probably didn’t care.

I hope he dies from a hangover.

James didn’t get abused by the boss anymore. The boss said he was too ugly to rape.

The boss has bad vision if he thinks James is ugly. Or maybe that’s just how drunk or on crack he is.

Anyway, to make a long (about three more chapters) story short, we started camping out again. We have the unmarked van.

Everything worked out.

As if we planned it.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: Giovanni's power is stored in his crackpipe. Break it and you break his hypnotic hold on your teammate/possible love interest (whose feet you get weird about at the wrong time).

uhh dad strade x fem reader drabble or short fic? make it as gross as you want. hope you’re having a good day :)

PAPA

{ dad! strade x adult daughter! reader }

word count: 880

warnings/tags: INCEST, age gap (18+ reader), molestation, alcohol use, descriptions of blood, violence, oral mutilation, and decapitation, poorly translated german lol

You live blissfully unaware of the horrors lurking just beneath the surface of your father's life, drawn instead to his charm and rough affection. Even as an adult, you seek comfort in his embrace, climbing onto his lap where you feel the familiar outline of his knife sheath against your back. The weight of his large, calloused hand rests reassuringly on your hip, and in these moments, you feel only safety and love. Unbeknownst to you, the same hand that holds you close could, with chilling ease, end your life.

Consumed with lustful thoughts, your father gazes down at your body, imagining all the ways he could destroy it. His rough fingertips reach to trace the curve of your stomach through your shirt, his breath hot against your neck. He imagines pulling out every one of your teeth, tasting your blood as it drips down your chin, and licking away your salty tears as you cry out in agony. He wants to hear you scream and feel you struggle as he stifles your sounds with his cock, shoving it deep into your gummy, bloody mouth.

But above all else, he wants to take your head. He helped bring you into this world, after all, and he insisted on being the architect of your departure. In his darkest fantasies, he envisions the satisfying thud of your head as it strikes the basement floor, followed by the crimson tide of your blood, warmly spilling, seeping into the rough, porous concrete beneath.

Fuelled by alcohol, his hand squeezes your flesh roughly, causing you to wince as sharp waves of pain ripple through you.

"You are so beautiful, Mein Schatz," he murmurs, "Just like your mother…" His fingers press roughly into your flesh, causing you to wince as sharp waves of pain ripple through you. You try to wriggle away but his grip tightens, anchoring you in place.

"Oh, don't be like that," he breathes, his voice a soft, velvet purr that belied the sharpness in his eyes. "Don't you want to feel how much your old man loves you?". He asks, his hand sliding down between your legs. You try to protest, but your words are smothered by his free hand tightening over your mouth. He paws at your thinly-dressed crotch, seemingly deaf to your whines and enraptured by the warm sensation of your skin.

His fingers tremble slightly, the alcohol undermining the steadiness of his grip on your face. In his clouded mind, he thinks of a myriad of ways to end your life—each more lingering and excruciating than the last. Yet impatience whispers to him, suggesting he could end it all now, right here on this couch. The thought curls his lips into a sinister smile as he imagines the swift draw of his blade across your tender throat, releasing sanguineous rivulets that pour down your front and stain the fabric beneath.

He withdraws his hand, the touch lingering like a shadow as it slides from between your legs and back to your torso. "You know, I always thought about what it'd be like to have a daughter," he murmurs, his voice low and thick with a twisted mirth. "And I got one, didn't I?" His fingers crawl higher, skittering across your ribs before they hook around the edge of your bra. "You were such a pretty thing, so quiet and sweet. I'd just watch you for hours."

You shudder under his gaze, locked into his intense stare. His face shows pure love and adoration, yet hides something sinister beneath that bleeds through each touch. It’s as if he’s two people rolled into one and you can’t tell which is real.

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear, his words a whisper laced with menace. "But you grew up, didn’t you? You became a woman, and oh, how things changed." His eyes, predatory and cold, scan your face as he pauses. "I told myself I wanted to keep you safe, to shield you from the horrors of the world," he continues, pressing his fingers deeper, pinning you with a force that shatters his protective guise. "But the one you need saving from is me."

Your eyes widen with fear and confusion as you squirm against the heat of his embrace and the confinement of his arms. He watches you silently, curiously, pondering your thoughts and feelings. Yet instead of releasing you, he draws even closer, his breath unsettlingly warm against your face. "Mein süßes Mädchen," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face with deliberate slowness. "I've always wondered how you'd look splayed out on my workbench... I'm just dying to know what's inside that pretty little head of yours..."

Your heart flutters as he speaks again, his voice low and hypnotic. You try to reply, but the words snag in your throat. His eyes gleam with eagerness as he observes your panicked struggle.

Then, with a contrived snicker, he shakes his head. "Oh, you should see your face!" he exclaims, his fingers darting out to tickle you. "You’re so easy to scare!" His laughter rings out again, hollow and disconcerting. You try to laugh along, but it comes out as a strangled gasp, hanging in the air as your father's chuckles continue to echo around you.