Leone Abbacchio X Reader - Blog Posts

SCREAMING JUMPING WITH JOY SPINNING AROUND AAAAAAHAHHSHDJFJ ABBACCHIO I LOVE HIM AAAAA

perfect (abbacchio)

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ jojo's bizzare adventure (abbacchio x reader) ⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺

content (18+): nsfw, oh he hates you...

word count: 4.4k

a tune for you: not another song about love (hollywood ending) lol

Moonlight trickled through the open shutters, the alabaster rays of soft light highlighting the room in uniform streaks, interrupted only by the glow of the monitor in front of you. Map after map, tab after tab, click after click, you persist, shuffling through the information as your eyes strain to continue looking at that damned screen. It had been hours – no, days – trying to figure out where this hideout was, and to no avail, a previously unwavering hope staring to dim with every new dead end. The work usually becomes intoxicating when you sink into it, the circuits of your brain firing with dedication and grit, attention usually unwavering. But it was something about tonight; your mind wandered, shuffling through memories like a filing cabinet, searching for some kind of answer.

You never understood why he hated you so much. What had you really done?

It wasn’t as if you were useless, or a delinquent. Undertrained? Perhaps, you could admit that, but your Stand had only awoken a few months prior, after first meeting Bucciarati and Polpo. Since then, you had been nothing short of dedicated. So why?

You rub your eyes, quickly realizing the futility of being caught up on such uncontrollable things. More important was the map in front of you. Of course.

A gentle knock causes your head to snap in the direction of the nearby door, the emptiness of the room creating a hollow echo.

“Come in,” you call curiously, checking your watch. 10:30.

Bucciarati peeks his head around the door with an appreciative and knowing smile, his hand lingering on the door’s handle as he steps into the room.

“Thought we’d check on you,” he starts, now walking towards the desk. “Any progress?”

We?

You tense slightly as you see Abbacchio follow behind Bucciarati, his unreadable eyes scanning the room for a moment before falling on you.

“You should really turn a light on in here… You’re going to kill your eyes,” Bucciarati says, leaning over to snap on the lamp perched on the desk. The unwelcome brightness causes your eyes to flutter shut for a moment before readjusting with a sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you mumble softly with a nod before turning back to the screen. “As for updates… I can tell you where the location isn’t. No progress on where it is, though.”

Bucciarati hums softly, clearly disappointed as his hand moves to his chin in thought. Abbacchio, on the other hand, makes a sound that can only be described as a grumble, before looking away from the screen.

“Not even a general area?” Bucciarati eventually asks.

“Well, depends on how general you’re looking for,” you reply, gesturing to the map. “I’m certain it’s among these streets, however, it’s probably too large to survey. It’s just… a lot of data to go through alone… Sorry.”

“You need another hand?”

“Well,” you tilt your head in thought. “I guess someone else would help… I think alone I can finish in another few days, but it might be quicker if someone else is available.”

“Abbacchio,” Bucciarati speaks, standing up straight and turning to the man beside him. “Help her tomorrow.” Abbacchio scoffs, waving his hand for a moment before replying.

“She said herself she can do it alone,” he retorts, expression hardening with his mumble.

“She also said it would be faster with help. The quicker we know the location, the quicker we get paid. Now,” Bucciarati continues, placing a hand on Abbacchio’s shoulder before turning to walk out of the room. “Both of you can discuss a plan for tomorrow, and then seriously, go to bed. It’s unhealthy to be working so late.”

A light smile tugs at your lips as you nod, grateful to be nearly done for the day. Abbacchio opens his mouth, as if to protest, but quickly closes it and looks away, nodding with a slight huff as Bucciarati leaves, closing the door behind him.

“So,” you clear your throat nervously, shifting the desk chair to the side before turning back to the monitor. “Really what I need is you to read these files, and-”

“How long is this going to take?” Abbacchio interjects in annoyance.

“I… I don’t know. I mean, if you read fast, a couple hours. Just scan the police reports and tell me where the units were in each of them. I’m trying to triangulate the location,” you explain calmly, trying to soothe your beating heart.

“Fine,” he crosses his arms, standing up straight, narrowed eyes darting across your face.

You nod again, standing up from your chair awkwardly as you put the computer to sleep. Quickly organizing the papers sprawled out on the desk, you try to relax your tensed shoulders, secretly hoping he’ll leave, saving you the trouble of having to engage in small talk. And again, with the quick switch of the lamp, the room is left in eerie darkness.

Much to your surprise, he lingers, body rigid with agitation. He clears his throat as you stand up straight, though you want nothing more than to walk out that door, mere feet away from you.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t want to be doing this either,” you nod and speak quietly, trying to be reassuring as if he expected you to say something.

“Don’t. Just, don’t,” he snaps, his voice strained. It was though you could feel his temper slowly running out. You nod, eyes suddenly finding the carpet very interesting as you wait for him to leave the room.

“Why do you have to apologize all the time,” he mumbles, almost under his breath as he steps towards the door.

“What?” you reply, though quickly regret even speaking.

“You always apologize for no reason,” he turns to you, words almost coming out as a growl. “It really pisses me off.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorr-” you pause, swallowing nervously before correcting yourself. “I mean… I’ll avoid it in the future.”

“Why?” his question lingers in the air, and in the darkness, you swear you see him step closer.

“I… I don’t know, I just feel like you’re always angry at me,” you whisper the last few words quietly, as if almost afraid to admit it.

“You don’t know why?” he scoffs, mindlessly cracking his knuckles. “You never react to anything…” his deep voice drops further, each syllable accentuated with irritation.

You take a meek step back, your hands meeting behind your back as you look up at him. Pursing your lips, ridden with anxiety, you can only wonder what exactly you’re doing wrong.

“God, why can’t you just be a normal person? Even now,” he rolls his eyes, stepping closer to you. “You’re too damn respectful even when you shouldn’t be. It’s infuriating…”

“I’m… too respectful?” you tilt your head to the side, confusion peeking through your nervousness. “Should I not be-”

Something in him seemed to snap, your words interrupted as he pushes you back into a nearby wall, firmly holding you in place by your shoulder.

“You’re too quiet and agreeable, all the time,” he spits with anger, his body pressing closer to yours. “It’s as if nothing can make you angry.”

His breathing grows heavier, dark eyes looking down at you as he tightens his grip on your shoulder, his other hand clenching into a fist at his side. You’re trapped, his hips nearly touching yours, your back pressed tight against the wall, the palms of your hands sweating against the paint.

“I…” you begin to studder, the words getting lost in your throat as you look up into his eyes.

He leans forward, his face now inches from yours, etched with anger and irritation, yet somehow… conflicted.

“You never get mad, or raise your voice…” he mutters softly, voice still dripping with frustration.

His other forearm moves beside your head, further restricting your movement and encasing you further against the wall. You can feel his hot breath against your skin, noticing the way his eyes travel across your features and down your body.

You were sure he could hear your heartbeat, the way it raced like a drum, pounding almost painfully at your ribs, the sensation growing more powerful as the seconds passed. His eyes meet yours, his gaze now unwavering. He’s so close. Impossibly close.

“It’s like you’re… perfect. It drives me insane,” he mumbles, voice barely a hushed whisper, the soft brush of air tickling your cheek.

“W- what?” you breathe in shock, eyes searching his face in the darkness. “What do you-”

“Shut up,” he grumbles firmly, his eyes flickering down to your lips in the darkness. His grip on your shoulder was tight, almost painful, as his other and traveled down towards your face.

Silence permeated the room, broken only by the mingling sound of deep breaths. The heat of your bodies nearly pressed together was overwhelming, and his hand on your shoulder was like fire through the fabric of your clothes. You search his face desperately, your vision subconsciously drawn to his lips, which softly part.

Suddenly, his expression softened, more than before and only slightly, as if the last of his anger and frustration had begun their transition to something new. Something more dangerous.

Within a second, his hand gently releases your shoulder, fingers lingering on the seam of your shirt before wandering down your arm, his touch light and tantalizing. His other hand now reaches towards your cheek, pushing back a strand of hair and slowly caressing it with his thumb.

“Tell me to stop…” he whispers again, almost desperately now, his vision clouded with urgency and desire.

The words catch in your throat, if there were any words in the first place. You can’t reply, or rather, you don’t know if you want to. Inhaling sharply at his tender touch, you can’t seem to look away from him, your body frozen in an unfamiliar blend of anxiety and yearning.

“You should… You should stop me,” he insists, his hand now moving to your waist, pressing you further against the wall.

But you can’t.

God, you want to. You want to leave and forget this confusing interaction ever happened but the more you look up to his lips the more you feel yourself melting into his touch. He hates you, and you know that, but something about it makes your chest tighten.

It’s conflicting; you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

He felt your breath hitch, and in a second he was kissing you. It wasn’t smooth or gentle, but rather like a crash of waves, his teeth roughly colliding with yours in desperation. And how it was filled with frustration, as if you both resented it but couldn't stop.

His hand found your scalp, pulling your head back and deepening the kiss further as his tongue finds yours. God, you hated it. Hated the way he tasted so sweet, hated the way his hand ran up your body, hated the way you wanted him so badly, as if starved for his touch.

The kiss grows hungrier with every passing second, unbroken even as you both struggle to breathe, mind and body focused only on the sensation of his touch. You feel yourself grow lightheaded, breaking away for only a moment to gasp before his lips crash against yours yet again.

You’re drowning in the sensation of him, stars dancing along the sides of your vision as your hands move to his chest, fingers sliding gently across the opening of his shirt. He groans, the sound swallowed by the proximity of your lips, just as he shifts his grip to your waist, pulling you closer into him.

A soft moan escapes your lips as you feel your hips press against his, your back instinctively arching and eliciting another desperate sound from him. He whispers your name against your lips, tone laced with agitation and need as he grinds his hips against yours, pushing you further against the wall.

“Abbacchio-” you whimper back, only to be silenced as he plants a wet kiss just below your jawline.

“Just… be quiet,” he grumbles, lips grazing your neck before he rests his forehead against the wall behind you. You hear his breaths coming in uneven, chest heaving up and down almost tumultuously. He sighs, and you feel his grip tightening in your hair, the tug making you wince slightly.

Gently, you run your hand further up his chest, fingers brushing along his collarbone and neck before settling in his hair. You feel him shudder under his touch, his hand on your hip tightening as his fingers dig into your skin.

“S-stop,” he hisses softly, swallowing a groan caught in his throat. “I’m trying to…”

You bite your lip, trying to control your own breathing. He’s right; you shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s far too late for reason and restraint. You continue to run your hand through his hair, coaxing another soft groan from Abbacchio who presses his head further against the wall.

“You… you’re too…” the words seem lost in his mind, his shallow breaths growing more erratic as your palm feels his racing heart, his forehead pulling back from the wall. “Too… perfect.”

With the final husky word, his lips find yours again as his hand tugs your chin up to meet his mouth. It’s different from before: just forceful and passionate, but with an inexplicable affection, conveyed by the way his hand traces along your jawline, thumb softly caressing your cheek as your lips continue to move against his.

Your arms wrap around his neck, tenderly pulling your body closer to his without breaking the kiss. He responds almost immediately, both hands moving to your hips as he moves you into him, grinding himself against you.

Your breath hitches as he continues, shifting his thigh between your legs and granting you more friction. He rocks you back and forth, upper body still pressing you against the wall.

One of his hands moves around your hips, running along the bottom of your thigh as he tugs your leg up, hand fingers resting along the inside of your knee and pulling it to the side of his body. His hips move against yours again, the newfound angle drawing more soft moans from your lips.

Those sounds were his final straw, his other hand immediately grabbing your other thigh and pulling you off the ground and against his body. His lips never leave yours, the kiss growing deeper and more desperate as his patience wears thin, evident by his bulge now pressed against your hips.

He pulls you away from the wall, now urgently stumbling towards the desk which you had left, hands kneading into your skin. Your body feels as though it’s on fire, the feeling of your back being slammed onto the desk barely registering as your senses focus on the friction between your legs as Abbacchio grinds down on you.

He quickly lifts a hand to haphazardly shove aside the assortment of office supplies and technology hindering your ability lie flat, the monitor in particular making a crashing sound as it hits the wooden floor. He pulls you by the front of your shirt back up to him, your mouth smashing against his so hard and desperately you swear it’ll leave a bruise tomorrow.

His forearm rests gently on the desk beside your head as he situates his body between your legs again, tugging you down so your hips are flush with his own. He lets out a soft moan as you wrap your legs around him, the feeling of his muscles tensing on top of you leaving a shiver running down your spine.

“Off, now,” Abbacchio’s deep voice commands with fervor, already beginning to tug at your shirt. You barely have time to lift your arms as he strips it off of you, tossing it to the side with surprising forcefulness.

Without wasting a second, his hand slips under your bra, cupping your breast and making your breath catch in your throat. He uses his other hand to tilt your head back against the desk, now nipping at the sensitive skin below your jaw.

Your body is taught with desire, the feeling of his hand beginning to press and squeeze your skin only heightening the sensation. Your back arches as you feel his hot breath against your neck, his free hand moving behind you to unclip your bra.

As it falls to the side, he pulls back for the first time, eyes roaming across your body with appreciation and an undertone of frustration. His chest heaves as a soft sound catches in his throat, eyes eventually trailing up to meet yours in the moonlight, pupils dilated with hunger.

“Perfect,” he grumbles under his breath, the flattering word spoken with a hint of vexation. You open your mouth to speak but are silenced by the feeling of him unzipping your pants, already pulling them off of you, with your underwear quickly following behind.

You gasp as the cold air hits your skin, heightened by the feeling of him spreading your legs once again. He settles between them, leaning over you with a forearm beside your head, his hand beginning to stroke the hair along your scalp.

His other hand drifts downwards, touch gentle and light as he teases his way along your sternum and stomach. You swallow in anticipation, eyes looking up at his as you bite your lip, silently praying that he can see how badly you need him without having spoken a word.

His gaze grows hazy, his eyes shutting for a brief moment as if controlling himself, before his fingers finally travel lower, right where you want them.

He lets out a soft gasp as he feels you, before mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath. As he begins to move his fingers against you, you find your head digging further back against the hard wood of the desk, your hand coming up to grip his shoulder.

Softly, he slips a finger into you, his knuckles curling gently to find the right spot. You gasp soft and squirm under him, your fingers digging more tightly into him. His other hand quickly finds its way to your chin, his elbow still resting on the table as he jerks your head back to face him, his eyes staring deep into yours.

“You’re going to look at me,” he whispers demandingly before his finger begins to move in and out of you, his thumb shifting to press against your clit.

You moan softly, eyes squeezing shut as you shiver in pleasure; his grip on your chin tightens as his fingers pause yet again.

“I said, look at me,” he hisses, his breath tickling your lips. You slowly open your eyes again, meeting his gaze as your body shivers in returned anticipation.

He continues his ministrations, fingers now moving quicker and deeper inside of you as you force your eyes to remain open, studying his features: the slight parting of his lips, his darkened eyes, the flush on his pale cheeks.

It’s now that you can really see the effect you’ve had on him, even in the low light. His eyes are half lidded, desperate and needy but somehow still frustrated. The soft purple of his lipstick is nearly gone from his lip, the edges smeared messily like watercolors.

You gasp as he pulls his fingers out of you, trailing up your folds before resting on your lower stomach. The emptiness almost hurts, the aching in your body returning as you crave more of his touch.

His lips quirk into a smirk, the expression almost feeling belittling as you lie beneath him, your naked form contrasting his fully clothed one.

“Please,” you whimper softly, biting your cheek in embarrassment as the words leave your mouth.

He scoffs slightly, pushing off of you as the smug expression remains plastered across his face. You sit up, watching as he removes his belt, the sound of metal hitting the floor almost electrifying, the anticipation nearly drawing a sound from your lips.

With an almost evil tantalization, he begins to strip, removing each piece of clothing slowly and with intent, eyes never leaving yours. He watches carefully as you study him, watching as his toned muscles contract as he moves, traveling down just in time to watch him tug at his own boxers.

His demeanor is different now, the anger and desperation from before morphing into a possessive dominance. The boxers drop to the floor, pooling at his ankles and leaving him completely exposed to your wandering eyes.

His weight is on you again within a mere second, his bare skin pressing against yours, the heat of your bodies mingling as he captures your lips into another kiss. You moan softly, indescribably desperate for him as you wrap your legs around his hips again, tugging him closer against you.

Sounds of pleasure fill the small room as he rubs against you, grinding his hips against yours, a final tease before the main show. Your pleading whimper is followed by a breathless beg, the words swallowed as he continues to kiss you with hunger.

He finally positions himself, his hand moving to your hip as he holds your body in place, lips not breaking apart from yours. Gasping against your mouth, his forehead presses against you as he finally slides into you in a single, fluid motion.

You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, the sensation growing more intense as he begins to move against you, the weight and motion seemingly pushing you further into the desk. Unable to stifle the string of moans that fall from your lips, your hand finds the back of his head, gripping desperately into his hair as your breath caresses his face.

“F-fuck… fuck you,” he whispers, voice cracking in passion as his fingers tighten around your hip, sinking further into your skin. He continues to thrust into you with the smoldering passion of pent-up frustration, movements desperate and disheveled but leaving you a crumbling mess beneath him. It’s electrifying, the feeling of his skin on yours, the sensations of his hands along your body, desperately grasping at you as if he can’t control himself.

He shifts his hand from your hip, running it down to your thigh before hoisting your leg up, hooking your knee around his shoulder. Without giving you a second to adjust, he thrusts harder into you, the new angle sending your head lulling back into the wood, your hair tangling as you squirm and gasp.

Your hands grip desperately at the desk, fingers finding a series of files and feeling them crumple under your forceful touch.

As one of his hands rests on your thigh, keeping your leg held over him, the other wanders across your stomach and up to your chest, giving your breast a squeeze without disrupting the erratic motion of his hips. He groans your name softly, over and over, the words spilling out like a familiar stream, as if second nature.

You feel the pleasure beginning to culminate, the heat building as his hips continue to snap rhythmically forward.

“Don’t… don’t you dare… not yet,” Abbacchio commands through shallow breaths, his pace never faltering.

“I’m- I can’t… I can’t,” you gasp softly, body taught with tension already as you balance on the edge of release, trying desperately to hold on.

He pulls out of you, not even giving you enough time to gasp as he grabs you by the waist, flipping you over on the desk. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your chest hit the wood and your feet hit the floor, your hands instinctively reaching out again, desperate to hold onto something.

A quiet grumble of need fills your ears, paired with the sensation of fingers tracing along your spine, traveling down before gripping your hips.

You hear a deep sigh before feeling the sensation of him slipping inside you again, your trembled moan filling the silence of the room. He wastes no time, already beginning to move again, arguably with more force than before.  

He presses his palm down into your back arching your back further and causing a string of curses to leave his lips. Your eyes screw shut and your fingers grip the edge of the desk, unable to focus on anything other than the heat continuing to build in your body, seemingly freezing your other senses.

You can’t take it anymore; the sounds of his groans, only growing louder, in combination with the sensation of his hand now grazing across your body, nearly sends you over the edge.

Another gasp catches in your throat as his hand slips under your body again, his finger slipping between your folds as his hips continue to snap against you. His touch is firm and slightly careless, clearly inebriated by pleasure.

“You… you’d better…” Abbacchio’s mumbling grows more desperate and incoherent with every passing second, his pace speeding up as his finger continues to move against you.

His name rolls of your tongue, becoming louder and more husky as you reach your climax, your body shuttering softly against the desk and seemingly directing him through his release as well. His hips slow, body almost collapsing on top of yours, his chest now pressed against your back and leaving you pinned against the desk.

He sighs softly, head almost nuzzling into your hair as his hand finds the side of your waist, caressing it gently as he continues to lie on top of you. You hear his breaths subsiding, the rising and falling of his chest against you growing less erratic and more peaceful.

You swallow, blinking as you catch your breath and begin to relax against the wood, the weight of his body on yours offering a strange sense of contentment. His free hand glides up your arm, fingers tracing along your skin before reaching your hand. He slides his palm up your wrist, eventually intertwining his fingers with your own before rubbing tender circles along your skin with his thumb.

You’d hate to break the silence. And what could you even say?

Perhaps it is better to appreciate the moment for what it is, with the cold moonlight now a dim flickering through the shutters, his warm breath against your neck, a feeling of drowsiness tugging at your serene consciousness. Whatever feeling of frustration, pent up feelings of lust and passion that were feeling before, seemed to melt away with the night. This current feeling, the lingering intensity of emotion and sensation, alongside the tranquility and silence of your surroundings, could only be described by one whispered, frustrating, and even desperate word.

Perfect.

Frustration

(Yandere Cop!Abbacchio x Female Reader) 

Alright this is my second attempt at a jojo fanfic, I hope you all enjoy! This is the first chapter of this series! (I don’t know exactly how many chapters there will be, but there will be quite a few! I’ll make sure to link them all together on each post I make for this series!)

 Also this chapter is long, so buckle up!

Chapter One: The Call

(3rd Person Pov)

The gently setting sun cascading a plethora of warm colors put (y/n)’s mind at ease, letting her know that the busy day she had earlier was finally over. Being a manager in a decently sized book store near the heart of Naples was not something to scoff at, especially considering the fact it was Saturday. The busiest day of each week, which always drove (y/n) to a point where she wanted to slam her head onto a table due to the volume of annoyances she had to deal with. 

From people complaining about prices, children ‘playing’ too roughly with the books, to just dealing with the rush of people in general. Now that isn’t to say that (y/n) hated her job, in fact she loved it, most of the time she was greeted with a quiet bookstore filled with people who understood what a bookstore was and how to treat it decently. And the people that she met during these times were almost always polite, save for the few people that would come back from Saturday's and Sunday's excursion with some type of complaint. These things would frustrate (y/n) but it was nothing that she couldn’t handle. The pay for the job was not bad at all, it allowed her to own a nice maisonette with two floors to decorate to her heart’s content, and even splurge on trips around Italy. All in all, her life was tranquil at the moment, and that was exactly what she strived for.

(Y/n) entered her home and quickly took her shoes off, throwing them down in triumph as she quickly made her way to the couch positioned in front of the t.v.

“Finally, some peace and quiet.” she said as she sprawled out on the couch, letting out a content sigh as her mind raced through the events of the day. From the moment she woke up at 6:30am to the time she got home at 8:04pm, she had been running around non-stop. Even her break was spent running down to a bakery to grab food for her co-worker and herself! She let out a groan as the sound of a phone ringing was heard in the distance. She begrudgingly sat up and went to retrieve her purse from the coffee table in front of her. She looks at her phone and sees it’s a message from her boyfriend (B/n).  

‘Hey sweetie, I just wanted to check in on you. How was work today?’ she lays back down as she messages him back,

‘It was crazy busy like every damn Saturday, how was work for you?’

‘Could have been better, but hey, at least we're both out of it now!’ she chuckled at how excited she imagined him sounding, he also enjoyed relaxing after a hellish day of work. Just as she was about to message back she heard a knock at her door; she stood up confused, who the hell could that be at this hour? She set her phone down on the coffee table and headed over to the door, concern filling her head. 

“Hello?’ she called out as she approached the door, hesitantly looking into the peephole. No one was there, however a piece of paper on her doormat caught her attention. She opened the door and half expected to be ambushed by someone, but was met with nothing but a light breeze and a starry night sky.  

“It got that dark already? How long have I been home?” she asked herself as she bent down to grab the paper.  It was folded up, a bright red check mark greeted her as she unfolded the page. 

“What the hell?” she said out loud, she quickly looked around her surroundings and proceeded to head back inside. She looked back at the paper in her hands, flipping it around, trying to find something else besides a giant red check mark. She sighs as she sets the paper down on her kitchen counter, it was probably some kids trying to freak her out with some stupid prank. She wonders whether to get some food or go back to her couch and fall asleep to some late night shows. 

An ear piercing shatter sounds off by her head as she lets out a scream, the sound of broken glass falling from her kitchen window makes her look up and freeze in horror. Someone’s arm was working on pushing the glass shards that were left behind from the shattered window. (y/n) snaps out of her trance and bolts upstairs, just as a man places his hands on the window frame and lifts himself inside. A man with shaggy dark brown hair, a black tank-top with the words ‘Freedom is anarchy’ crudely written in white paint, an open black hoodie, and ripped up black jeans stands up slowly; almost comically, and scans the room for his target. 

“Now where did you run off to little lamb?!~” he yells out as he walks through her kitchen into her living room. He glances around and makes his way through all possible hiding places while (y/n) hides in her closet upstairs. 

Meanwhile in the maisonette next door, the sound of the broken window alerted a young man by the name of Alessandro Romano. He knew that his neighbor, (y/n) (l/n), was not a rambunctious person; well at least rambunctious enough to break a damn window. The loud feminine scream which followed immediately after solidified to him that she was not the cause of the window breaking, which prompted him to grab his phone and called the police.

“311 what’s your emergency?”

“Hello, I believe my neighbor’s house is being broken into. I heard a window break and I heard her scream, you have to help her quickly!” 

“May I have your name, and the name of your neighbor; Along with your addresses?”

As Alessandro worked with the 311 operator the man in (y’n)’s apartment had begun to grow irritated as he looked around for his victim. He brought out a large knife and began to drag it along the wall as he started to slowly walk upstairs, calling out to her. 

“I know you’re upstairs little lamb, let me in. I promise your death will be quick, though I can’t promise it will be painless!” 

His footsteps were almost comically slow as he pressed the knife harder into the wall as the smile he held grew wider at the aspect of cornering his victim. Though he had to admit, he would be thrilled if when he opened the door she attempted to run, he loved it when they tried to run. He started to slam his footsteps down onto the steps leading to her room, each one louder than the last, until he was practically bashing his foot against each stair. He wanted, no, needed to scare his victim. It’s what made this all so pleasurable; Not the aspect of ending a life, but the thrill of the hunt and the case that would ensue. Sometimes from him, sometimes from them, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he caught his prey in the end, and rewarded their exhilarating tears and screams with a painful death. 

(Y’n) heard the dramatic footsteps and cursed at herself for forgetting her cellphone. She cursed herself once more as she remembered the conversation she had with her boyfriend and how insistent he was to have her put a home phone in her bedroom. 

‘Honey I have my cell phone on me 24/7, why would I need a home phone in my room? Besides it will be loud as hell when people call!”

‘That’s kind of the point (y/n), also you can set the tones of the calls received to be softer rather than louder.’

‘Well i think it’ll be a waste of time and money to set it up, i’ll be fine with just the home phone downstairs and my cellphone!’

‘*sigh* Alright, but when we move in I'm putting in a home phone.’

‘Fiiine!’ 

‘Dammit (B/n) I hate when you’re right about shit like that’ (Y/n) thought to herself as she clenched the tiny pocket knife that she had managed to grab from her dresser before she hid in her closet. She opened the door slightly and looked at the door that separated her from a grisly demise. She didn’t have a lot of furniture in her room but what she could easily move, she used. Her desk chair had been propped up against the door along with a wooden chest that she had received from her father as a nice parting gift when she moved out. She had managed to position the chest next to the chair in a way that would prevent the killer from being able to open the door too widely; It was an extra precaution just in case this mad man was able to break down the lock on the door and shove down the chair that was propped up against the door handle. She closed the door and took a deep breath; She was attempting to bottle up her emotions so she wouldn’t give this bastard any satisfaction from hearing her cry or scream in fear and frustration. All of this just had to happen to her, out of everyone in Naples it just had to be her! She would laugh if she wasn’t so scared at the moment, clenching the knife even harder as she heard the man finally make his way to her door. 

“Officer Abbacchio, Come in Abbacchio do you hear me? Over.” a radio sounded off in a police vehicle which was slowly cursing down a busy street in Naples. A young officer quickly picks up his radio and confidently answers back,

“I hear you, what is it? Over.” 

“We have a 10-16, break in at a residential area. Suspect is suspected to still be inside the residence, the only occupant of said residence is a young female named (y/n) (l/n), I’ll have the rest of the information relayed onto your screen. Over.”

“10-04, heading over to the address right now. Over and out.” 

Officer Abbacchio turns on his sirens and presses down on the pedal, speeding along with the rest of traffic, his mind focusing on the possible situation he might be stumbling into. 

‘There’s a high possibility that the perp will have a weapon, scratch that, he definitely has one considering he broke into the home through a window.’ He thought as he quickly read what popped up on his screen. He presses down on the pedal harder as he sees people moving to the side to let him through, a determined look crosses his face when he sees from his gps that he is no more than 5 minutes away from the address given to him.

‘I’ll make it there in three minutes with how quick people are letting me through, this is perfect!’ 

He arrived in the exact time frame he predicted and quickly got out of the vehicle, his hand gun drawn immediately. He approached the front door of the residence with extreme caution, following his training perfectly, he scoped the area and when he knew it was clear, he kicked down the door. 

“This is the Naples police! Come out with your hands raised!” 

A deep voice yelled out after the door was broken, the sound of two firm kicks alerted the mad man inside that he was no longer alone with his victim, an officer has interrupted his game. The man got to work and slowly opened the door, only to find it locked. He smirked as he put his blade down and quickly pulled out a multi-tool, getting to quick work on the outer casing of the door knob as the officer below started to sweep the area. 

“This is the police! I am aware that you’re in here, come out with your hands up now!” 

The officer yelled louder than before, worry evident in his demanding tone. The man had finished with the door knob and carefully removed the handle, undid the mechanism which locked the door, and attempted to open the door. The handle on the other side popped off and the chair that had been pressed up against the door knob fell, alerting both the man and the officer. The man tried to open the door again, only for it to open roughly halfway before having it stop yet again, the rushing footsteps of the officer downstairs gave the man an adrenaline rush as he forced his body through the door. He was greeted with a dark room, he quickly flipped on the switch as the officer made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Come out! Hands where I can see them!” the officer yelled out again, hoping to get some kind of response. The man snickered and scanned the room, his eyes landing on the closet, that had to be where his little victim was. 

(Y/n) held her hand to her mouth tightly, pressing her fingers against her lips in an effort to not scream as she heard the killer barge into her room. She had heard another voice yell out but it was muffled by the distance and doors between her and said voice; She thought it was her killer, becoming enraged at her attempts to keep him out of her room. The sound of the closet door knob moving both startled her from her thoughts and filled her with fear. She grasped onto the doorknob tightly as she felt the man desperately trying to break in. 

“Come on little lamb, let me in so I can rid you of your suffering!” 

The man screamed out as the doorknob stopped moving. The sound of a sharp thud alerted her as she held the knob tighter, unsure of what he was doing. The deranged man’s smile widened to a sickening degree as the knife made one final thrust into the door before the blade went through it, showering (y/n) with splinters of wood as it pierced through. A loud scream ripped from (y/n) as she saw how close the blade came to her face, just one more inch and she would be done for! She could not let go of the knob, or that would let the killer in; So she quickly tried to readjust herself before he had the chance to attack her through the hole he had just made. Loud footsteps caught her attention as a new voice shouted out 

“Put your hands where i can see them!” 

(Y/N) dared to look through the hole that the killer made and saw a very welcoming sight. An officer with white buzz cut hair and piercing dawn eyes glared at the man who stood in front of the closet door. (Y/n) took a deep breath before she called out,

“Officer, I'm in here! Please help me!” 

Officer Abbacchio looked over at the closet door, noticing a (e/c) eye looking back at him through the knife hole the man made. He noticed the scared look in the young woman’s eye and grew more determined then before to help her. 

“Don’t worry, the situation is under control.” He called out to her as he went back to glaring at the man before him who had begun to snicker. The young officer felt a chill go down his spine as he got a close look at the man, The blade he held in his hand was covered in a dark red substance, which officer abbacchio assumed was blood given the current circumstance. 

“Drop the weapon now, and put your hands up.”

“Now why would I do that officer? Can’t you see i'm a little busy here?” 

The psycho rammed the knife into the closet again, eliciting a scream from (y/n). Officer Abbacchio gripped his gun tighter, giving the woman in the closet a quick glance through the hole, he saw tears start to fall from her (e/c) which only added fuel to his urge to protect her. 

“Do it now or I will shoot you! This is your final warning!” 

The man’s smirk grew as he turned to the officer, and lunged at him. Officer Abbacchio took aim and let out a single round, the bullet casing clattering onto the hardwood floor as the sound of the shot resonated within the room. 

-CHAPTER 1 END-

(Thanks for reading!)