Attacked (Dad!Pete)
Request: Can I please have a Pete Wentz x daughter!reader if possible if not just a regular Pete x reader with 43 35 27 off the hurt/comfort prompts? Thanks you so much I love your writing😘
You heard him say something to you as you passed him, but you just ignored the man. Being cat-called is just something you brush off. It was when he started to follow you that you felt a slight sense of panic. You continued to walk with purpose to the car, hoping he would give up.
As you got closer to your parking spot, you no longer heard footsteps behind you and felt slight relief. You walked up to your dad's car that you had borrowed to meet some friends at the mall.
"Pretty lady, where you going?" The man was suddenly in front of you, between you and the car door.
You took a step back.
"I- Sorry, I have to go," you stammered.
"What did'ja get?" He asked insistently, looking at the bags in your hands.
You froze as you saw the knife he was holding. You're a 17 year old girl alone in a dark parking lot. What are you supposed to do? Scream? Will anyone hear? Run? Will he chase after you?
He grabbed your arm tightly. You resisted at first out of instinct, then realized that you should just give him what he wants. Survive. You just need to survive.
"Your purse," the man growled, "give me your purse."
You quickly dropped it from your shoulder and immediately handed it over. The man laughed a bit. He was enjoying this–enjoying this power he had over you. You thought you were going to throw up.
He quickly stepped forward, throwing you to the ground.
You watched from the pavement as he scurried away.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
You made it to your feet and flung yourself into the driver's seat of the car, locking the door behind you at least a dozen times. He took everything you had–your phone, credit cards, driver's license... You had no way to call for help and you weren't about to get out of the car. You're lucky the keys were in your pocket.
You didn't know what else to do, in such a state of shock, so you drove away. You went into autopilot, driving the whole way home without having a single conscious thought, just becoming aware of some pain in your arm. You pull into the driveway of your house and into the garage. As you turn off the car, you realize your arm was bleeding and that blood had gotten on your shirt.
You felt like the world was spinning slower than it should as you entered the house. Was this a dream?
You walk in a see your dad Pete in the kitchen. He doesn't look up from the counter.
"Hey Y/n," he said, "How was the mall?"
You pause for a moment, standing still in the doorway. For some reason, all you could think about was how pissed your father was going to be that you lost all of your stuff.
"I'm so sorry, Dad," you said quietly. Pete can barely hear what you said and looks to you.
He realizes you're pale as a ghost, shaking and staring off at the floor vacantly. "Y/n?!" He asks, beginning to rush over to you.
"I lost your credit cards, my phone," you said slowly, "I drove without my license."
"Y/n?" He repeated, going to place a hand on your shoulder. You jump away and Pete's eyes find the blood on your arm and top. He's consumed by worry, searching your expression for answers.
"I'm sorry, dad," you shook your head, still staring at the ground. It's like you weren't even there. "I'm sorry, I-"
"Y/n, look at me," he said in a low tone. You do as your told, your wide eyes finding his. "It's okay," he reassured you, much more concerned about what had happened to you than any lost property. "What happened?"
"H-he, in the parking lot, he," you just rambled. You start trembling even more as you attempted to relay the incident to your father. Pete identified the fear written across your face and within your words.
"Come here honey," He said gently, guiding you to a kitchen chair. You sat down and he knelt in front of you. "Y/n," He said again, as he held your uninjured elbow, "You're safe now, I got you. Okay?"
You nod a little, staring at him. He urged you to go on.
"I was in the parking lot," you begin, "and a guy, he followed me, he–he had a knife and t-told me to give him my bag, so I did and, I don't..." You shook your head as your breathing picked up, your panic escalating.
Pete was in shock himself, horrified by what had happened to you. He looked at you as you tried to fight every emotion you were having. "It's okay to cry," he offered supportively.
You start to sob.
"Oh Y/n," He said somberly.
"Then he pushed me," you cried, "and I fell. And then he was gone."
Pete's fists involuntarily clenched as tears filled his eyes.
"I was so scared, Dad, I'm so sorry." You sobbed harder and he wrapped his arms around you.
"It's okay, Y/n, I'm right here," he reassured you, kissing the top of your head, "You're safe."
You nod against his shoulder.
"Is your arm okay?" He asked as he pulled away to carefully inspect it.
"It hurts," you admit quietly.
"Take a deep breath," he reminds you. You follow his directions and begin to gather yourself.
"And you know I don't care about any of the things he took," he reassured you, "I'm just glad you're okay."
You nod again.
"I know you're scared, but you're safe now," he says softly, "We need to go to the police station, okay?"
You were hesitant but agreed to go. With your dad by your side, you knew it would be okay.
