#tw: verbal abuse

[drmichealmorbius]

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TW: mentions of verbal/physical abuse

[liminish]

[marvelsdc22]

Home For The Summer

Intro: Hey guys! Its been a hot minute since I've posted an actual story on here, I've been having severe writers block and have been going through a lot recently, but I managed to make some time and write something, I hope y'all enjoy! And thank you to @wokeupinawalnut for the assistance in creating this :) love you <3

Summary: Melissa is your mom's best friend, she's become someone you looked up to and could come to for anything, what happens when feelings start to change and your mother turns ruthless?

Warnings: Potential trigger for alcoholism, verbally abusive behavior, reader is 23/24 by the end(let me know if I missed any)

Word Count: 3k

You had known Melissa since you were thirteen, your mother had brought her over after a long day at the school, the two of them having become friends earlier that year when you and your mother had moved here after your mother divorced your dad, who was no longer in the picture, getting the second grade teaching position at Abbott. Melissa had then become someone you looked up to and could confide in when your mother wasn’t around to listen, which happened more and more the older you got.

When you turned seventeen, you started seeing Melissa in a different light, you started to feel things for the other woman that you knew wasn’t right to feel when it came to your mother’s best friend, but you couldn’t help yourself, you found your gaze on her everytime she was around, quickly averting your gaze when you saw her turn your way, you figured this was just one of those stupid crushes, hell you hadn’t even been on a date yourself, no one interested you enough to get that far.

You had hoped that going away for college would change your feelings for the fiery redhead, getting a decent scholarship to Stanford for their medical school, ever since you were given the opportunity to volunteer at the local hospital, you had your heart set on becoming a doctor so when the opportunity appeared, you took it with no hesitation and immediately accepted the offer you had received.

The day you left, your mother was supposed to drop you off at the airport and see you off, but instead you had to call Melissa last minute when your mother told you she was unable to, grateful that she agreed with no hesitation, loading your bags into the bed of her truck before climbing into the passengers seat, you a bundle of nerves and not just from flying away for school.

The ride was silent aside from the quiet music playing through the trucks speakers “You doing alright over there, kid?” Melissa asked, lightly nudging you with her elbow and causing you to jump slightly, having been lost in your thoughts and looking at her after a moment, furrowing your brows before sighing “Nervous and a little upset that my mom isn’t willing to take the time to see her only child off” you admitted, wringing your hands out in your lap, freezing when she rested a hand on one of yours “It’s her loss, you’re gonna do amazing, I know it might not mean much coming from me, but I’m very proud of the person you’ve become and who you’re going to be, kid” she said, squeezing your hand and you felt tears building in your eyes as your stomach flipped and your heart pounded, the praise making you feel lighter “Thank you”.

When you got to the airport, you expected Melissa to just drop you off at your terminal but she took the turn for the parking garage instead, her taking you the whole way through until she couldn’t follow you anymore “C’mere” she said, pulling you into a tight hug and rubbing your back as you buried your face in her neck “Let me know when you land, I’m gonna miss you so much” she said, giving you one last squeeze before pulling away “I will, I’ll miss you more… Thank you” you smiled, squeezing her hands which you were still holding before turning and heading through security, heading for the next phase of your life.

xxxxx

Little did you know that Covid would hit and hinder any and all travel plans you had, keeping you trapped in California to the point you just never visited, not like your mother cared, you were lucky to get a message from her a day, let alone a phone call, you finally found time during your fifth year, you finally had a small break in classes that you were able to come home for the summer, you still kept in touch with everyone, especially Melissa whose been with you through it all, the nights you were stressed out from all the studying? She was a phone call or facetime away, when you were excited about something that just happened? She was there, as the years went by though, you felt something change between the two of you, she seemed to be more flirty when it came to talking to you, but maybe you were overthinking it all and your brain was twisting what was really happening.

I just landed - You

Just found a parking spot, I’ll see you shortly ;) - Mel

You stumbled slightly when you saw the emoji she chose to use, why would she use that one? Was she trying to hint at something? Here you go again, overthinking, she didn’t mean anything by it, you heading for the baggage claim and waiting for your bag to come on the conveyor, fixing your mask as you scrolled through your phone, you didn’t trust planes when it came to this virus, so you’d rather be safe than sorry, you glanced up when you caught a glimpse of what seemed to be your bag, barely able to set it on the ground before you felt arms wrap around you, causing you to tense before you saw the red hair and smelled her usual perfume, turning in her grasp to return the hug just as tightly.

“I can’t believe you’re home” Melissa said softly, pulling back and cupping your face as to get a better look at you, your heart stuttering before you rested your hand on one of hers, lightly leaning into her touch and missing the flash of adoration in her gaze as you closed your eyes “I’ve missed you” you said softly, looking at her once more before you took a step back and grabbed your suitcase, her still holding your hand as she led you through the airport “I missed you more, your mother has been getting on my nerves without you there for buffer” she laughed, glancing back at you and smiling when you let out a giggle “Not surprising, she doesn’t have me to annoy”.

The drive to your mothers house was quiet, the familiarity of the ride calming as she drove you guys through the busy city “You hungry? That sandwich shop is on the way” Melissa said, breaking the silence as she glanced over at you, catching the smile that appeared on your face at the suggestion “When do I ever say no to that place?” You laughed, throwing her a grin before you relaxed back in the passengers seat, feeling more at home than you have in a while.

When you finally got into your mothers house, it felt different, everything was moved around, it didn’t look like the house you had finished growing up in “About a year after you left, she did a whole renovation of the place” Melissa told you as she followed behind you with your suitcase that she insisted on bringing inside, watching as you took in the new layout, a little lost but it was your mothers house and she could do what she wanted with it.

Heading back to your room, you stopped in front of the closed door; would it be changed too? Your mother wouldn’t do that… right? You so lost in your mind you didn’t notice Melissa looking at you worriedly, opening her mouth to say something when you pushed the door open, the two of you freezing when it was a basic room, not at all how you left it “I didn’t know she did this” Melissa admitted, knowing that she would’ve warned you if she had known, anger evident in her tone and looking at you when you released a shaky breath, setting your suitcase down and tugging your arm so you’d face her “Oh hun, c’mere” seeing the tears building and pulling you into her without another word.

Later that night, you were waiting for your mom to come back, having asked Melissa to give you some time to yourself after she helped you calm down, needing time to figure out what you were going to say to your mom about changing your room without notifying you first, startling when you heard the front door open, your mom staring at you in slight shock, she must’ve forgot or wasn’t paying attention when you had told her that you were coming home for the summer “What are you doing here?” She asked, irritation evident in her tone, it feeling like a knife was dug into your chest at the harsh question “I only told you three times that I was coming home for the summer” you said, watching as she set her things down and kicked her shoes off, basically brushing you off as she headed for the kitchen.

Getting up and following her into the kitchen, you watched as she dug around in the fridge, completely disregarding the food that was on the stove that you had made and was keeping warm until she got home “There’s food on the stove-” getting cut off when she slammed the fridge door closed “What do you really want, Y/N?” She asked, crossing her arms and watching as you started wringing your hands out, a habit you had developed over the years when you got nervous or stressed out, both happening right at that moment.

“I saw you changed things… it looks nice” you started, gesturing to the living room behind you which was decked out in new furniture “Why didn’t you tell me that you were changing my room too?” You asked, feeling yourself start to shrink back under her sharp gaze that seemed to analyze everything about you “I don’t need your approval to change things in my house” she stated, raising a brow when you let out a frustrated sigh “I know you don’t, but that was my space, it would’ve been nice to know-” “You don’t live here anymore, you are no longer my responsibility nor do I want or need you, so do us both a favor and get back on that plane and leave me alone!” She shouted, pushing past you and heading upstairs, you noticing this time just how much she reeked of alcohol, a door slamming jarring you out of your shock.

With tears in your eyes, you ran out of the house, ignoring the fact it was raining as your legs carried you to a familiar destination, ending up at Melissa’s front door, tears running down our cheeks and soaked to the bone, the minutes between knocking and her finally opening the door feeling like an eternity, feeling a rush of relief when she finally opened the door in a comfy looking shirt and sweatpants, her hair a little everywhere indicating she had been asleep and a bat in hand, making you idly wonder what time it really was “Mel…” you choked out, more tears slipping out.

“Y/N? What the hell? Get in here-” setting the bat to the side before pulling you into the house and shutting the door behind you “-you’re soaked, let me grab you a towel” she said, turning and rushing down the hallway, returning quickly and wrapping the towel around you before pulling you into her arms “Shhhh… tell me what happened, hun” she whispered, holding you tighter when you let out a choked sob into her chest, letting you take the time you needed to explain what all went down, her heart breaking at the fact your own mother treated you the way she had.

After you explained everything to Melissa, she led you to her room so she could give you some fresh, warm clothes to change into “I’m sorry I woke you up” you apologized, watching as she pulled one of her eagles shirts out and a pair of sweats, her setting them on the bed before going over to you and cupping your cheeks, wiping a stray tear away with her thumb “Don’t apologize, I would rather you wake me than go wandering around in this weather… go change, I’ll be in the living room” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before leaving the room, closing the door behind her to give you privacy.

When you came back into the living room, you felt your face start to burn when you caught her smiling at the fact you were in her clothes, watching as she set her phone down and patted the spot next to her, tugging you closer when you sat on the other end rather than next to her “You are free to stay with me as long as you need, do you need anything before I head back to sleep?” She asked, wanting to make sure you were taken care of before returning to her room, smiling and patting your leg when you assured her you were okay, pressing a kiss to your head before she headed back to her room.

About an hour later, you got up to head to the spare room for the night when you saw something light up on the coffee table, looking over and seeing Melissa’s phone still sitting there, catching a glimpse of a message from your mother on it.

If you care so much about them then you keep them… - Y/M/N

That small bit that you could see without unlocking the phone was enough to twist the knife that was already buried in your chest, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before returning Melissa’s phone to her room, moving carefully as to not wake her, plugging her phone into the charger and setting it on the nightstand before turning to sneak out, making it to the end of her bed when your pinky toe caught the end of the bed “Shit!” You muttered, collapsing to the floor and holding your foot in pain.

Melissa jumped up when she heard the thud and quickly turned the lamp on before she turned and saw you on the floor “Are you okay, sweetheart?” She asked, helping you up and having you sit on the edge of her bed “Yeah, I was heading to bed and noticed your phone was still on the coffee table so I wanted to put it where it belonged and my toe caught your bed” you admitted sheepishly, watching as Melissa fought hard to not laugh but a small chuckle slipped out “Well, thank you for returning it-” picking her phone up and seeing the message “-what did you see?”

Dropping your gaze to the floor, you messed with the strings on the sweatpants “Enough” you shrugged, taking a shaky breath “She’s not wrong, I’m not important and I don’t deserve anything-” trailing off when her hand firmly gripped your chin and turned your head to face her “Stop that, you deserve everything and your mother is stupid for not realizing that” she said, lightly running her thumb along your bottom lip “Anyone who gets the chance to love you will be the luckiest person alive” she said, her eyes drifting to your lips before meeting your gaze once again “Mel…” You whispered, feeling an imaginary pull between the two of you.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, locking eyes with her for a moment before realizing what you had just said “I’m sorry, I don’t-” you stuttered before her lips cut you off, stealing the remaining words you had before you melted into the kiss, the two of you pulling back when breathing became necessary, resting your foreheads against one another “I’ve wanted to do that since that night you went to that party and sent me that selfie” Melissa admitted, that having been the night you went to a party last summer, it having been a small one with some classmates, you having sent her a selfie to make sure you looked good, you had wondered why it had taken her so long to respond.

You smiled as you looked at her “Really? I’ve had a crush on you since I was seventeen, I thought it would go away when I left for school… Obviously not” you admitted, reaching over and tucking some loose red strands behind her ear, smiling into the small peck she gave you “We should get to bed… we can talk about this more over dinner?” Melissa suggested, tugging you a little closer by your hips “Dinner sounds wonderful… I’ll see you in the morning?” You asked as you stood, stopping when she grabbed your hand “Or you could sleep in here? If you’re comfortable with that of course” smiling when you nodded and let her tug you onto the bed next to her.

The next morning, you woke up to the spot beside you cold but the smell of breakfast being made and the sound of soft jazz playing from the kitchen, groaning, you forced yourself up and out of Melissa’s bed, making your way to the kitchen and smiling when you saw Melissa standing at the stove, humming along to the music, already dressed for work, this being the last week of school before summer break “Smells good” you smiled, heading over to her and cautiously wrapping your arms around her from behind, unsure what you could and couldn’t do with her, smiling and resting your chin on her shoulder when you felt her lean back against you, the tension releasing from your body.

“I figured you deserved something homecooked” Melissa smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, enjoying this downtime with you “So, I have to work, but when I get back we can go get your stuff from your moms, get you settled here then dinner at this new restaurant that just opened up” she suggested, looking at you when you extracted yourself from her and stole a piece of bacon off the plate, to which she smacked your hand away with a laugh “That works for me, I’ll be here” you said, munching on the bacon.

After Melissa left(after many many kisses), you busied yourself with doing dishes(which was a pain to convince her to let you do) and cleaning up until Melissa got back, taking you to your mothers house who was thankfully nowhere in sight(Melissa had ripped her a new one when she saw her at school) before heading back to Melissa’s, the two of you splitting off to get ready, you wearing your nicest top you had in your suitcase and the nicest pair of pants you had, sadly you didn’t think to pack nice shoes so you were stuck in your vans, checking yourself in the bathroom mirror one last time before heading into the living room to wait for Melissa.

When she entered the room, your jaw dropped, her red curls were down and hanging over her shoulders, her black dress showing off her curves just right and her heels completing the look “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies” she teased, pushing your chin to close your mouth “Are you sure we need to go out for dinner? I got a whole meal right here” you said, shocking yourself as she smirked “C’mon, I promised my baby dinner, you can have dessert later” she winked before leading you out, the promise being fulfilled as soon as you guys got home, you knew this summer and the next several were going to be the best summers of your life.

[ohforficsake]

The Margay: Chapter 9

Memorize it. Destroy it.

prev / series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC

Word Count: ~4.7K

WARNINGS: I'm going to go ahead and flag this chapter as Dark!Frankie / Potential triggers herein for verbal and physical abuse (extreme jealously, manhandling, pinning against a wall, facial bruising, borderline choking), brief mention of self harm/suicidal ideation / Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / language / crass mention of sexual acts / mentions of drug use / Minors DNI

A/N: Frankie breaks something.

Finally getting one of these up in time for Frankie Friday. This chapter. Whew this chapter. It came to me months ago. Something that makes you put everything down so you can transcribe this thing from wherever it’s coming from.

chapter moodboard if you're interested

Divider by @cafekitsune!

“Why are you draggin’ me to this, couldn’t you have found someone else?

“I already told you,” Santiago fiddles with his bowtie in a car window reflection. “It’s a favor to the guy who got us this gig in the first place. Needs bodies in the room for this fundraiser. Davis is covering the donation, it’s the fucking least we could do.”

“You coulda brought some girl.”

“Yeah, but I like you on my arm,” Santi quips with a pout and Fish flips him a choice finger.

The room is filled from marble wall to marble wall with standard Washington DC fixtures. The low din of conversation punctuated with the occasional chime of laugher and clink of glass. Diamonds glitter in the low golden light under massive, equally scintillating chandeliers.

Francisco can't help but scan the room as he trails Pope to the nearest proffered tray of champagne glasses, fingers absent-mindedly wrapping around one when it's placed in his hand.

And it's Frankie who sees her first at a distance. Sheathed in a flowing column of white. Black hair is blown out into loose curls that fall down to the middle of her back, face lit up in a laugh.

When she rocks on her feet he notices that her arm is wrapped around a man’s bicep.

Frankie drains the rest of his champagne, slamming the glass down on a hightop table before Pope catches the crook of his elbow and cuts off his path to her. 

“Don’t.”

“Who the fuck is that.”

“The senator who sponsored this thing? That’s his son.”

“That doesn’t make it better, Pope.” 

Audrey hanging off the arm of some spoiled fuckin’ rich kid.

Not that he’s a kid, he’s got a few years on Frankie at least.

But a senator’s son? 

Audrey. 

His Audrey.

Audrey who he’s seen covered in engine grease, cuddling stray cats, trekking through the jungle covered in sweat and blood.

Audrey who warms his bed and angles big green eyes up at him with his spend still coating her thighs.

His Audrey.

She’s clearly playing a game. 

She’s on a job. 

Undercover. 

She’s not herself. 

And she catches him staring heat at her from across the room.

A million watts of light spark across her features and she waves them over.

“Francisco. Behave.” Pope spikes him a warning.

When they weave through bodies to make it to her she greets each with kisses on both cheeks, grip falling subtly to Frankie’s arm as her last kiss lingers. 

“Let me introduce you," she says to the man, "this is Santiago Garcia and Francisco Morales. The boys who’ve been helping me out down there. The Major is, one of my oldest friends.”

“I should thank you both for keeping her safe,” the Major grins. He’s got a California accent and the tan to match.

She gives them his name but Frankie doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy sizing the man up. Guy’s got three? Four inches in height on him at least. Dark black curls, a face that’s weathered enough to betray that he’s never really worked a desk job. Even Frankie can admit he’s handsome. Roman nose, strong brow. But his eyes startle Frankie the most. 

They’re the same color as Audrey’s. 

The exact same shade of green. The effect of it is stunning when they both meet Frankie’s gaze. 

And Catfish can’t get the flash his brain conjures of the two of them tangled in white sheets out from behind his eyelids.

“You look beautiful tonight, Aud,” Pope charms in an attempt to distract from Fish’s tangible simmering.

“I can clean up okay if I have to,” she winks, untangling her arm from this man’s.

“So what is it that you do?” Frankie cuts in, just this side of prickly.

“Marine engineer,” he says, swallowing a mouthful of champagne. “Which is a pretentious way of saying that I spend my days on boats looking for sunken treasure.”

It is an oversimplification at its finest. Because like the three of them, he’s done his fair share of greasing the cogs that keep the world running smoothly.

And like the three of them, he’s greased them with blood.

“I think we could all use refills," Audrey clears her throat, "Frankie, would you be my extra set of hands?”

“‘Course,” he doesn’t realize he grits it out.

Like spitting slivers of glass.

He flattens one broad palm across the small of her back and guides her in front of him in the direction of the bar. He follows close behind, eyes searing into the back of her skull.

The tattoo on her shoulder taunts him where it peeks out from under the seams of her sleeveless dress.

On display for anyone to see.

When they reach the bar, Frankie slots in behind her, the panes of his chest finding her back.

Audrey presses against him with a hum.

She’s nearly his height in heels and he doesn’t have to bend now to whisper in her ear. “A man more dangerous than me?”

“A friend with a Messerschmitt,” she turns to face him, running her hand over his stomach under his jacket.

And he revels in her touch before betraying the way it soothes.

“You fuck all of your friends?”

Frankie can tell there’s history between them that involves more than clunky warplanes and tinkering with old cars and it bubbles up like bile spat out in needless cruelty.

“Only the ones who know what Messerschmitts are,” she tosses back in kind, her tone level in direct defiance of what’s clawing at the back of her throat. 

She turns around again as the bartender approaches and Frankie steps back a hair, breaking contact with her form.

It makes her seethe.

She hands Frankie three glasses of tequila with lime, balanced easily in generous hands, before she sweeps a gin martini off of the bar and leads him back to where Santiago and the man are laughing about something.

Fish hands Santi and glass holds the other out for Audrey, but she sips from the martini without breaking his stare and Frankie instead has to hand it over to the other man.

Messerschmitt. Since Frankie can’t remember his name.

They toast, what a pleasure to meet, happy you boys are keeping Audrey company out there. 

Company.

“Fish, the Major is a pilot, he was Air Force.”

“In my youth,” the man quips.

“I’ve heard,” he drains his glass and doesn’t attempt to continue down the path what Santi has forged for him. 

And so the two of them carry the conversation alone, Frankie staring daggers at Audrey who shoots him the occasional searing glance every time she plucks an olive from the golden skewer in her drink.

A hush falls over the crowd as vainglorious speeches start up.

But Frankie's ears are ringing.

Audrey makes it through one speech before excusing herself to the restroom with a soft hand on Santi’s elbow, and a brush on Messerschmitt’s cuff.

She doesn’t need to alert Frankie because Frankie’s been watching her every move.

He waits five minutes before slipping away in the same direction.

They’re about to pass each other in the hallway when Frankie’s hand shoots out for her bicep, a glance over his shoulder to be sure no one is looking before dragging and shoving roughly to pin her against the wall.

“So is this what you do, when you’re not with me? Fuck senators’ sons?”

“The fact that he’s a senator's son is honestly the most unfortunate thing about him. And what we do is not my being with you. It’s my job.” She presses something soft into his hand. “That’s for you. If you want it.”

Frankie stuffs whatever it is into his jacket pocket and continues.

“And is this part of your job? Hanging off the arms of handsome men in fancy rooms?” He runs his palms down her bare arms before they settle on her hips.

“Sometimes. But I don’t frequent these in my downtime. This is a favor.”

“A favor. To him.”

“Yes.”

“So you don’t make a habit of this? Being this charming.”

“Aw you really think so?” She snarks and Frankie’s hands on her hips slam her back against the wall.

“You like it, don’t you. All of these eyes on you. Driving me insane.” His fingers brush a curl from her cheek. “Don’t play coy, I see how they look at you. Do you beg them for it, Audrey?” 

“They look at me because I’m a novelty in this room, Frankie.” 

And she’s not wrong. She’s a lithe beautiful thing with rich bronze skin in a room of wives and mistresses the same shade of blonde caked in the same shade of orange. She moves through a sea of hungry eyes with comfort precisely because she doesn’t give a fuck about the other men in this room.

Not even really about Messerschmitt. Not now that he’s here.

“You mean you don’t work your way into their beds? Let them fuck you until you’re screaming?”

She scoffs a “no” and Frankie listens but doesn’t hear.

“Is it their money? Their expensive whiskey and the thread count of their sheets that makes you come?”

His hand skates up over her chest, fingers feather-light over the skin of her collarbone that peeks out from under the high neck of her dress.

“Because there’s no way their cocks are satisfying you. That room is rife with overcompensation.” 

Everything to this point has been some twisted form of foreplay.

But Frankie tips.

His hand moves to her neck now, the broad span of it making easy work of fitting around her throat. 

Because some part of him believes this. Believes that Messerschmitt has had her and would have had her tonight if Santi hadn’t dragged him here and it makes him wonder how many others. 

He needs to know how many others. 

Frankie's eyes are blown dark, logic is abandoned in a brain fogged with jealousy. Skin thrumming with possession.

And it’s out before he can catch it.

“How many of them have had you, Audrey?” Rumbled through low registers of his voice.

He uses his index finger to roughly angle her face back to him from where she’s glanced back into the room.

“How many of them have seen you fall apart? Hmm? How many of them have left you shaking?”

His body holds her against the wall, thighs pressed to hers, his elbow jammed painfully in the sparse space between them where he holds her. 

And Audrey just watches, gaze angled down her nose.

Amused.

Frankie’s a man in a trance as he runs the pad of his thumb over the lush of her bottom lip, hot breath following its path.

“Have they seen the way your mouth falls open when you clench around them? Do they know that you can see these little fucking teeth when you do,” he snarls it, sliding his thumb over her top incisors before slipping it farther to slide over her tongue.

He tastes of lime and ozone.

“How many of them have come in this pretty little mouth, Audrey?” Frankie presses down with his thumb to open it wider. 

She could bite down. She could box his ears and take out an eardrum or both. She could throw a knee into his crotch.

She could scream.

She’s not going to.

Not yet.

But she could. 

He adjusts his grip and his middle finger and thumb dig painfully into the space at the hinge of her jaw and he gives her head a small shake, voice dripping with condescension. “Do you swallow for them, or is that just for me?” 

And it should frighten her. The way her sweet soft Frankie has gone dark. 

The way he’s a hair’s breadth away from squeezing down on her pulse.

The way he could crush her jaw with the strength of his hand alone.

But this? 

This is always there. 

Churning under the surface until it heats enough to boil.

It's what she loves about him.

“Do you let them come inside you too? Let them empty their balls into your hot little cunt and leave you dripping?” He shifts one leg to the outside of hers to press her further into the wall with his body.

And it should terrify her, this being caged in, his fingers jammed hard into her mandible as he spits and seethes with equal parts disdain and infatuation.

“Do they fill you up like I do? With as much as I do?”

The hard line of Frankie’s cock pressed against her hip telegraphs unyielding, sick pleasure.

“Do they fuck you better than I do, Audrey?”

“There is no ‘they’ Frankie.”

“Oh? Well then. Does that man. Out there. Fuck you. Better than I do.” His arm twitches with each sentence, moving her head with it.

She should be ashamed of how wet she is.

“Would you let him come down your throat the way that you let me?” 

And she doesn’t dare give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“I know he doesn’t eat you out the way that I do. Doesn’t make you come on his face.” He presses his nose to her cheek, breathing in the scent of her. “I can tell.”

“But I bet he’d still give it to you. If you wanted him to.”

He doesn’t realize that he’s growling with every breath.

“I don’t want...”

“But would he. Fuck you.” 

“Yes.”

And Frankie’s nostrils flare and a breath hisses through his teeth.

His hold on her tightens.

“Yeah, I bet he would. Because you’re a fuckin’ toy. A pretty little plaything to be used when the need strikes and then…” he trails off. “He’d fuck you but he wouldn’t keep you.”

“Yeah—" he growls.

"I wouldn’t either.”

And Frankie says it because he’s frothing with impotence at what he doesn’t have to offer.

Any one of these men could give her the world. 

They paid $14K just to stand in this room. 

But Frankie wouldn’t keep her because Frankie doesn’t deserve her. 

And Frankie makes it her fault. 

Lashing out at her for the way she consumes him.

And all of this. This is trying to prove himself with his body where the rest of him falls short.

Because it’s all he knows.

The Delta who gave his body to the Stars and Stripes in search of validity and purpose and a place in this world. 

And those colors chewed him up and spat him out tasting like a bad back and a coke problem.

But he’s taken it too far now.

Still gripping hard at her jaw.

And her scorpion’s tongue delivers a barb that sticks right in the spot in his brain where he’s regretted it every moment of his existence since that night.

“You going to strangle me again, Francisco?”

The antidote to his fever.

“No,” the grip on her loosens.

The fight drains through the soles of his feet and back to the earth to be transmuted into something that doesn’t destroy.

He breathes without snarling.

And rests his forehead against hers before taking half a step back.

And she tips her face to hover her lips over his but neither of them move any farther.

They just breathe.

Looking like lovers to anyone who is watching.

She brushes a hand over the napkin slipped into his jacket pocket. “Memorize it. Or don’t. But destroy it either way.”

And Audrey slips from between him and the wall.

Frankie doesn’t move to turn around, instead bracing his forearm against wallpaper, listening to her heels on marble as she returns to the bathroom.

“And Frankie,” she calls over her shoulder, staving off the shattering of her voice. “Please be nice.”

He snorts as he spins and leans heavy against drywall, head thudding backwards. He scrubs a palm down his face and breathes deep, trying to bring himself back to even.

Trying to stave off the panic winding around his organs.

Threatening to constrict.

He has no idea what just happened. 

Frantic fingers scramble for the thing in his pocket.

A napkin that he unfolds. 

An address in Alexandria.

Her address.

He storms off to the gents and into a stall, mentally repeating the numbers and letters until it’s ingrained before he drops it in the toilet bowl. Blue ink bleeds into something illegible before he flushes it away.

His stomach turns and for a moment he thinks tequila is going to follow it. 

Frankie breathes in hard through his nose and out with a hiss, storming out of the stall to splash cold water into his face.

He prays he hasn’t left a bruise.

_____

“You good?” Santi whispers when Audrey slips in beside him.

“Yeah, do I look fine?”

He gives her a quick once-over. “Physically, yes. Spiritually?” Pope tips his glass of tequila towards her hand and she drains it as applause breaks out at the end of another speech.

“He okay?”

“Dunno.”

Santiago casts a look over his shoulder towards the bathrooms.

“Come, let me get you another,” he gently presses an open palm to Audrey's elbow, leading her to the bar. 

“Gin and soda.” Santi knows her and joins. “Two."

Santi knows the two of them well enough to hit on what just happened. "That really spun him up, huh?”

“Never meant to. I’ve known the Major for over twenty years, I came as a favor. He’s one of the few people on earth who knows what I actually do.”

“It’s not a fucking crime to be comfortable around someone," she adds in a soft voice. "I had no idea you were going to be here.”

“Sort of a favor on our end as well.” Santiago slips a tip into the glass jar as the bartender slides over two drinks.

Audrey swallows a sip, letting the ice cold liquid chill her burning stomach.

“I was fucking happy when I saw you both.”

And she sounds like she's about to fracture.

“Hey.”

Santi’s eyes are soft, heavy-lidded as is his way when he’s sincere.

“He’s an idiot when it comes to this.”

She scoffs and takes another sip.

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

“That’s very kind Santi, but I can do it myself.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“No.”

“Yeah, your jaw is starting to bruise.”

“Fuck,” and she adjusts her hair to fall where Frankie’s fingers were with Pope calmly directing her movements.

To anyone else they’re making conversation. 

But to anyone who knows, Pope is fuming and Audrey’s a frayed nerve.

And Messerschmitt knows and Messerschmitt would kill for her, but only if she says the word.

And she doesn’t.

“Let’s get you some food, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She has no appetite but she takes the arm Santi offers because he’s the only person Frankie won’t murder tonight and he guides her towards the nearest waiter with a tray of canapés.

For the first time in the two years that he’s known her, Santi realizes that Audrey can’t take care of herself right now. 

She’s unfocused, eyes darting around the room with none of their usual calculated discernment.

Big, liquid things. Fighting the threat of overflow.

Whatever the fuck Frankie just said.

He broke her. 

And so Santiago spends the rest of the night putting his body between her and Fish, and Fish knows that Santi knows something, the shame of it heating the tips of Frankie’s ears.

Audrey doesn’t stick around long after speeches are through.

She takes her leave after wrapping Santiago in a grateful embrace, kissing Messerschmitt on the cheek, and squeezing Frankie’s arm.

He can tell that was for appearances’ sake and he knows better than to follow right after her.

In the end he plays well in the sandbox. So well, in fact that he strikes up a conversation with the Major. They talk of helicopters and Immelmann maneuvers and they bore Santiago enough that he abandons them for a pretty blonde at the bar.

And Catfish shakes Messerschmitt’s hand when he leaves.

But he still doesn’t know his name.

_____

Frankie crawls back to her at midnight like a shamed thing with his tail between his legs.

She opens the door to find his hands stuffed in his pockets, doe eyes back on full display.

And Audrey wishes she hadn’t handed him that napkin.

But she also wishes for the confirmation that he offers now.

That they’re going to be okay.

In their own, fucked up kind of way.

She invites him inside without saying a word and he doesn’t reach out for her as he steps into darkness.

City lights filter in through large windows, but a candle on the coffee table is the only thing lighting his way.

She’s just been sitting in the dark. 

And he stands in her home that he can’t see, somewhere between her living room and her kitchen, watching her move from the bar to the fridge and back again, still clad in her white evening gown.

Like a ghost in the night. 

She hands him tequila and scoops the dregs of her martini off of the coffee table, downing it before heading for the sink.

He catches her arm on the way, holding her on the tips of his fingers, waiting for her to move. 

She stops but doesn’t lean in. 

“I’m sorry.” Frankie whispers. 

And the candlelight catches in her eyes when she looks to him.

For my jealously. For what I said. The questions I asked. 

For insinuating that you’re a whore.  

But instead “I’m sorry” is all he repeats on a sigh as he lets her go and to his surprise she reaches to wrap an arm around his neck, pressing her body to his, burying her face in his collar.

It takes him a moment before he holds her back, biceps squeezing around her ribs. 

And feeling bursts from his chest with a sob. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, I’m sorry,” he kisses against her hairline, seeking forgiveness in her mouth. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” is all he gets in return. “Alone.”

And she leaves Frankie standing backlit by city light, looking for all the world like a man-shaped void in her home.

Frankie thinks he should leave.

He wants desperately to run from this pain of his own creation, slip into drink in his own hotel room and pass out on the floor.

It can’t be that hard to find coke in DC.

And the thought scares him enough to make him stay. 

He forces himself to move on legs of lead to collapse on her couch, screwing the heels of his palms into his eyes, listening to water against tile where she’s left the bathroom door open. 

Audrey returns to him in a black linen robe, wet hair smelling of white flowers. 

Darkness unfurls into night-blooming florals.

The same darkness that dry-rots him from the inside out, leaving nothing but a cloud of cheap blow behind every time something collapses.

And her manicured feet enter Frankie’s frame of view, but he doesn’t look up until she kneels down, reaching her hand to cup his scruffy jaw and tip his face to hers.

He’s crying.

She thumbs one tear from his cheek before it’s replaced with another.

Frankie engulfs her hand with his, turning to press a kiss to her palm.

“We don’t work here, Francisco.”

And she skates around her issue to get to the heart of their issue. 

She’ll deal with herself later.

What they have doesn’t belong here. 

In city lights, where people wear diamonds and Rolexes. Where mistresses and wives are the ones making deals to keep everything running smoothly. 

Here where she moves with practiced ease. 

Here where he’s lost in words that don’t mean what they say and smiles that lash instead of soothe.

Where the air draws cruel things from his throat.

“I know.”

They never intended to bring it here.

“Forgive me.” He whispers.

Forgive me the delusion.

“Forgive me, Audrey.”

Forgive me my words.

“Forgive me,” panted against her mouth, foreheads pressed flush.

Forgive me and show me you still care.

Because I don’t. 

Not about my body, not about my soul, and I might damn them both tonight if you don’t forgive me.

But he’s still asking on his behalf.

“Audrey, please. Please,” he sobs. 

I don’t know why I’m like this.

I don’t know where else to go.

Take me back. To before I bruised.

Bruises that blossom on her jaw now in low light.

But bruises were how they started.

And she takes his hands in her own and leads him to her bedroom where she strips layers from him. Rids him of wool and cotton and lays him in linen sheets.

She fits against his back, arm around a chest that can’t find steady breath. Audrey presses kisses to the back of his neck. Strokes his hair until sleep briefly takes him.

Like the warm body that she is.

And in the night he finds her, heated palms on her stomach, pulling her weight to rest on his hips but she peels his fingers from her skin and rolls back to her side of the bed.

He knows why he came here.

To fix what he’s done but he doesn’t know where to start sewing up the damage. 

He ripped too deep.

And Frankie doesn’t know what else to do but offer his body and allow her to take what she needs.

To allow himself to be a body for her to use after his words and his fingers implied she was the same.

And she knows none of it’s true but she can’t help but feel it.

The love she doesn’t know how to give. 

The family she’ll never have because she knows nothing more than how to bring death into the world.

But from where Frankie lies, tonight what she needs isn’t him.

And it brings a fresh, heaving wave of regret to crash through his chest.

_____

“I was engaged once,” she offers hours later as the blue beginnings of dawn start to light the room because she knows Frankie is still awake behind her.

“To him?”

“To a man more dangerous than you.”

“What h— what happened?”

“We were playing house in a home that was never ours.” 

“We’re brutal things. Where he tries now to atone for his sins, I lean into them. We were never set up to work.”

“What does he do.”

And she doesn’t answer that particular question when she starts again.

“He was a Delta too, once upon a time.”

“What was his name?”

“Spencer.”

And it’s like a gift. Frankie knew of a Spencer who had made rank before him. Knew of the whispers that spread like wildfire through barracks of a ghost of a man who could do the impossible and he wonders if they’re one and the same.

Not unlike the woman in his arms.

“And now?”

“Sometimes we find each other on nights that get too dark. Sometimes we save one another.”

Lives and souls.

“But most times we’re nothing more than memories and whispered wishes in each other’s general directions. Each one of us hoping the other is still alive.”

“He would take you back?”

And Frankie doesn’t understand his fixation on this question, because she’s not his and never claimed to be. 

But pieces of her live in the hearts and beds of other men and he desperately wants all of her for himself.

A wildcat in a cage.

A taxidermied husk with glass eyes.

A pelt to drape himself in.

He doesn’t ever ask if she would have them.

“Everyone would take me back, Frankie,” she pulls the duvet up to her ear.

“Because I’m always the one who leaves.”

“Will you leave me?”

It hangs in the air. Unanswered.

And he knows now.

She will leave.

And he will be another man who holds another piece of her.

And she will continue giving away whatever pieces of her that men will take.

Until there’s nothing left.

Nothing but murmured whispers of a ghost.

And pieces of her memory.

_____

When daylight comes, Frankie blinks hard at where sunrise streams through sheers.

Reaching out for warmth before dread blooms in his chest.

Audrey’s gone. 

It’s her house and she’s gone.

And he bolts from the bed, searching for signs that she’ll return. 

But he finds no note, no text, no sign.

Audrey’s left him.

_____

Author's Post Script: Messerschmitt and Spencer are actual characters that I've borrowed to play with for a moment, all credit to their original owners. Feel free to slide your guesses into my DMs if you're so inclined. Or just want to chat after all of that.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @toomanytookas @spookyxsam

Also again taking the risk to tag some lovely folks who have shown interest in this here little story. As always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged:

@tinytinymenace @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @theshensei @iamskyereads @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @soft-persephone @julesonrecord @criticalarchitecture @oliveksmoked @jessthebaker @tanzthompson @youandmeand5bucks @ems-chaos-corner @thethirstwivesclub @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute

Please note that old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted here at Ohforficsake.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

[bleach-your-panties]

💔the financial abuser - kingpin!touya todoroki  x black! wife!reader

warnings: modern au/no quirks, drug family business, mention of past child abuse (y'all know the story), family illness (not touya or y/n), oral (m! receiving), car sex, pre-marital sex, dacryphilia, degradation, breeding kink, size kink, pregnancy, coercion, controlling/obsessive behavior, stalking, angry outbursts, choking (not in a sexual context), drug use, gaslighting, manipulation, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, mental illness, serious injury/hospitalization. read at your own risk!

☠️: some dialogue/actions inspired by true events.

💔: banner images from pinterest

💔: banner made by me with canva

💔post themes: ain't about the money  - t.i. ft. young thug

                           soldier - destiny's child

                       throat baby (remix) - 

 brs kash ft. city girls

                           baby by me - 50 cent ft. neyo

                           whatever you like - t.i.

                           what you know - t.i.

                             superman - eminem

                           papers - usher

                    roses - outkast

                           gold digger - kanye west

💔9.7k words!

💔read in dark mode for best experience!

🖤yo. 🖤series. 🖤iida.

—-

----

If you ain’t no punk, holler,

“We want prenup!”

“We want prenup!”

Yeah, that’s something that you need to have

‘Cause when she leave yo ass

She gone leave with half

___

You met your husband, Touya, at a hair salon in your neighborhood. 

In the "hood", so to speak. You grew up in an impoverished neighborhood in one of the roughest cities to live in in the nation, with an 80% black population and a violent crime rate 95% higher than the national average.

Although it was dangerous as hell, the living conditions were less than desirable, and you were constantly surrounded by sketchy people, this was your home.

You'd grown up in this city and attended school here from elementary through university. Now at age 26, you're a successful chemical engineer, working as a consultant for the city's power plant. 

Your parents are both deceased unfortunately; your father died in your childhood and your mother passed away after a long battle with breast cancer just after your senior year of university, so as far as family went, you only had your dear aunt, who was getting up in age.

She's your father's sister, having supported you throughout most of your academic life by helping you get back and forth to campus, attending all necessary parental conferences when your mother was too sick to, and finally, attending all of your graduation ceremonies. You are extremely thankful for her.

Present day, all you do is work, pretty much. 

With your work, you usually have to keep your hair pulled back in a tight bun and covered with a protective hair cap. It was always a relief to be able to get your hair done and have your stylist rub her long, acrylic nails against your scalp while she lathered your natural tresses with sweet-smelling shampoo.

The soft ding of the bell hanging over the door alerted you to a newcomer's presence while you sat underneath the dryer reading one of the old Jet magazines that every salon always seemed to keep on hand. 

"Good afternoon, ladies."

You looked up from your magazine and your dark brown eyes fell upon the most handsome man you had ever seen. 

Tall, muscular frame, skin the color of freshly churned milk and hulking arms a collage of black ink. He was no shorter than 6'5'' at the least. You could tell by the way that he had to duck under the door frame to come inside the shop. 

"Heyyy, Touya~" Your eyes moved around, pupils enlarging as you realized that every other woman in the shop had stopped whatever they were doing to greet this man.

Just who is this guy?

He walked further inside the small salon, his small, narrowed, turquoise eyes roaming over each and every feminine face before stopping at yours.

Oh no, he's walking over here!

Your face began to heat up; you hated being put on the spot and this man was just too gorgeous, you might faint! 

He smirked at you and dug his big hands into the pockets of his black joggers.

"What's up, pretty? I think I would remember seeing a face as gorgeous as yours around here. What's your name?" 

Your stylist came over then, smacking her lips at Touya and motioning for you to come over to her chair.

"Leave her alone, Touya. She wants nothing to do with the likes of you. She's a good girl, she's not interested in thugs."

That made your blush worsen and you lowered your head to the tiled floor, hoping that he'd just move on and bother one of the other women.

Touya laughed loudly. He brought his arms up to rest behind his hair, which you now noticed to be a brilliant white, just like freshly fallen snow. 

His big biceps bulged and you could see that they were also covered in tattoos. He even had them all along his neck, trailing upwards to just under his chiseled jawline and then downwards, disappearing into his white V-neck.

"How do you know what she likes, Tisha? And I'm not a thug, I'm a well-respected businessman, I'll have you know."

The entire shop cracked up at that, making your anxiety lessen just as you looked up to further examine this man.

Unfortunately, he caught you looking and bit his lip at you. Usually, the gesture would've made you cringe, but it was different when he did it. It was sexy. 

His lips were a little plump and when he bit them, you could see two glints of silver: a tongue stud and a lip stud.

"Y/n is my name." You said simply. 

He smiled this time and squatted down so you didn't have to crane your neck to look at his face.

"Y/n, huh? Pretty name for a pretty girl."

You almost wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you smiled.

"Thank you….Touya…"

He nodded slightly. More glints of silver when he made the gesture; he also had his right eyebrow pierced, three stud piercings in his nostril, and multiple silver hoops in each ear.

“God had no business making this man this damn fine.”

A deep chuckle broke you out of your thought process.

"Well, I appreciate that, beautiful. Tisha, don't charge her anything for her hair. I'll pay for it."

Aw, shit, did I say that out loud?! Nice going, Y/n!

"What? No! You don't have to do that, I can pay for myself!" You huffed. You knew this game all too well.

If he paid for your hair, he'd feel like you owed him something. Not a chance.

"Oh, girl hush and let that man pay for you. Keep that $750 in your pocket, shit." Tisha chuckled as she began to install your wig.

Touya handed her the money out of his wallet while grinning. He held his hands up, palms facing you in a gesture of surrender.

“I promise I don’t want anything in return, but maybe you wouldn’t mind grabbing breakfast with me one day? I know this great spot right down the street from the salon.”

You scoffed, now finally rolling your eyes at him.

“That’s still wanting something, pretty boy, even if it’s only a meal.”

Touya shrugged. “So that’s a no, then? Too bad. I won’t keep bothering you, though. See ya around, pretty girl.” He teased with a smug look on his face before turning and walking back out the door of the salon.

A few hours later, Tisha was done with your hair. She handed you a mirror so you could look at yourself.

“Thanks, Tish, it looks amazing!” You dug in your purse for your wallet so you could give her a tip, but she stopped you.

“Girl, what are you doing? Touya already paid me.” Eyebrows scrunched, you pushed the $20 bill into her hand anyway and got up out of the chair before she could protest.

“Just take it. Maybe next time I come I can get a discount on my lash installment.” 

“Girl, you crazy! Get on out of here!” 

You left the shop smiling to yourself. The bell tinkled over your head as you walked out into the bright sunlight. 

Your smile immediately dropped when you walked over to your car and noticed that you had a flat tire.

“Oh no, what the hell?! When did that get there? Aw, man…” 

The offending item that had punctured your tire was a long, rusty nail sticking out the side of it. 

“Dammit, now I’m going to have to call a tow truck.” You sighed and pulled your iPhone out of your purse.

“Need some help, pretty?”

It was Touya - he’s still been here all this time?

He casually leaned up against a smoke-gray Range Rover with black rims. The brake calipers had been spray-painted a deep purple.

“Oh, Touya. There’s a nail in my tire, but it’s fine, I can just call-”

“I can wait with you for the tow truck and then take you home.” He offered. Getting up off the truck, he stalked his way over, taking long strides. In a second, he was standing right next to you, so close that you could smell his expensive cologne.

You didn’t know how to react, just kind of looking up at him with a stuck expression on your face. 

“Uh, you really don’t have to…I could just call someone..”

“Why do that when I’m standing right here?”

A perfectly arched eyebrow raised. “Because I don’t know you? You could be a serial killer.” 

You know now that he’s most likely a drug dealer, like that was any better…but yeah.

Touya just laughed at you and shook his head. 

“Not gonna make it easy for me, huh? I like that. Keep it up, baby doll. I’ll get you sooner or later.” He walked back over to his truck and opened the driver-side door.

“At least come sit and chat with me until the tow truck comes?” You couldn’t continue to resist him, no matter how much you wanted to. Especially when he looked at you with those turquoise eyes.

—-

And that’s how your whirlwind romance began.

—-

Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger

But she ain’t messing with no broke niggas

Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger

But she ain’t messing with no broke niggas

Cutie the bomb, met her at a beauty salon

With a baby Louis Vuitton under her arm 

She said, “I can tell you rock, I can tell by your charm

Far as girls you got a flock

I can tell by your charm and your arm”

But I’m lookin’ for the one, have you seen her?

—-

After that day, you and Touya began somewhat of a friendship.

Whenever you came to get your hair done, he’d somehow always be there and he’d always pay for your hair, nails, and lashes. Turns out that he owned the beauty salon, the diner that he offered to take you out to, and pretty much everything else on that strip.

One day after you got off of work, you were surprised to see his truck out in the parking lot.

He was waiting for you.

“Touya! Funny meeting you here, what’s up?” You put your hands on your hips.

“I want to take you on a date tonight.” 

Your eyes bulged slightly, probably making you look like a fool, but Touya didn’t waver in his proposition. 

"What do you say, pretty? Go out with me?" 

You began weighing all the positives and negatives of going on a date with him. He could have a gaggle of jealous exes just waiting to catch him with another woman and raise hell, or one of his opps that was waiting to catch him slipping so they could blow his head off.

Tough decision, but eventually you folded and agreed.

—-

After your first date, you saw Touya more and more, seemingly everywhere you went.

The grocery store, the mall, restaurants. You even saw him across the street from your dentist's office one day while leaving an appointment.

Despite all of these seemingly random pop-ups, you found yourself undeniably attracted to Touya, which may have clouded your judgment just a tad.

So over the next several weeks, Touya would continue to show up at your job and surprise you with flowers, food from his diner, and lavish gifts.

This is how you would end up kneeling underneath the dashboard in Touya's Range in the parking lot of the industrial plant, hours after your shift had ended.

His black sweatpants were pulled down his thick, muscled thighs and pooled around his ankles while you struggled to take his huge cock into your mouth.

He regarded you with those cool, turquoise eyes, one large hand planted firmly on the top of your head as he guided you up and down on his hard shaft.

"Just like that, pretty. Such a perfect, slutty mouth. Yeah, you like being slutted out outside of your job? Not the perfect, innocent little scholar right now, are you?" 

You hummed around his dick, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth while you breathed steadily through your nose. 

Touya's degradation never failed to turn you on, but sometimes you felt like he was just being mean intentionally.

His hands pressed down on your head harder, forcing you to take him further down your aching throat. Once he started, Touya wouldn't let up until he fucked your throat raw and tears streamed down your beautiful face, ruining your expensive makeup.  

He loved to see you cry.

"There you go, baby. That's my good girl. Take my cock like only you can." 

You moaned around him as best you could, but your jaw was aching and you felt like you'd pass out from lack of oxygen any moment now.

Suddenly, you were being pulled off of him by the roots of your hair. Touya dragged you over the center console into the backseat with you sputtering and trying to catch your breath.

"Down." He ordered and you immediately obeyed, getting on your hands and knees.

He clambered over you clumsily, his height preventing him from being able to get into the exact position that he wanted, but this would have to do.

"Arch." 

Tattooed hands came down to hold your lower hips as soon as you arched your back.

You were already wet from sucking him off, but due to the sheer size of Touya's dick, it wouldn't be enough.

Hiking one foot up, he removed one hand to guide his dick into your hole. You immediately felt the burn. 

"TOUYA! It's too much…" You moaned with your head turned slightly to the side to look over your shoulder at him.

"Not too much, baby. Never too much for you, my sweet girl. Take me, baby. Take my big fucking dick in your tiny little hole. I know you can do it."

Your freshly done acrylics scraped against the car door while Touya grabbed your expensive bundles up in one hand and forced your head completely flat on the floor with the other.

His pace was hard and rough, but he knew you were loving everything that he was giving you judging by your moans.

"Shit, pussy's so good baby, sucking me in so nice…fuuuccck!"

Of all of the women that he's fucked, you were the only one that had been able to take all of him without passing out.

It was a shock to you as well, how you hadn't passed out already from Touya's deep stroking. No doubt his fat tip was hitting your cervix; you could feel him in your damn stomach.

"Touya, I'm going to cum!" Your words were muffled, but he could just make out what you were trying to say and feel you clenching around him.

His eyes watched your ass move in waves as he pounded into you with everything he had, no doubt making the entire car shake from the sheer force of his thrusts.

“Come on, cum on this dick, baby. Make a mess on me, baby doll,” He cooed softly, leaning over you to press you against the floor as he rolled his hips into you.

"TOUYA!"

"Yes, scream my name, girl! SHIT!"

—-

The next thing you knew, you were waking up in the front of a large mansion with a high, wrought-iron gate around it. It was surrounded by acres of land, all to itself off in the countryside. A soft, fleece blanket covered your naked body.

"Where are we? Is this your house?"

"Fucked you so good you lost your memory, baby, but yes, this is my house." 

"Why'd you bring me here?" 

"Why wouldn't I? Why, you'd rather me fuck your brains out and just leave you passed out, only to wake up alone in a fucking parking lot in the dark? Come on, Y/n." You could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror.

Remaining silent, you just hugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"So where do we go from here, Touya? What's next for us?" 

He hit a button and the doors unlocked. Touya came around to open your door and then scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you close to his chest.

"I brought you here in hopes that you'd agree to be my girlfriend."

"What if I say no?"

"Then I have to kill you."

"WHAT!?"

"I'm just playing, girl. Damn. So will you? Will you be my baby?"

—-

Touya and you began dating that night, and not even six months later, he asked you to marry him.

And you said yes.

Now, you believed that you were in love with Touya. He treated you like a princess and showered you with expensive gifts: jewelry, cars, designer clothes, shoes, and bags. Whatever your heart desired. Not to mention he was sweet, attentive, caring, loving, and amazing in bed.

Little did you know that Touya had another side to him.

—-

Stacks on deck, patron on ice

And we could pop bottles all night, and, 

Baby, you could have whatever you like

I said you could have whatever you like, yeah

Late-night sex, so wet, it's so tight

I gas up the jet for you tonight 

And baby you can go wherever you like

I said you can go wherever you like, yeah

—-

While you were planning your wedding, many of your friends and family members came to you with concerns about your fiance. Including your beloved aunt.

“That boy is no good, Y/n. I’m telling you. Just look into those cold, soulless eyes of his. That boy is not right in the head.” She would rant as you sat on her living room couch with wedding books opened up all around you. 

"Please, Auntie. Touya is a good guy. Sure, he's in the streets, but he'd never hurt me." 

"You don't sound too sure of yourself." 

Rolling your eyes, you had heard enough of the negativity. 

Gathering up the books and magazines, you threw them into your new Louis Vuitton tote bag and pulled it onto your shoulder. 

"I have to go, Auntie, or I'll be late for my dress fitting. I love you." You leaned down to give her a hug and kiss on the jaw. 

"I love you, too, baby. Just please think about what I've been saying before you rush into this marriage, alright?" 

"Alright, I hear you. I'm gone."

You stepped out of her house and closed the screen door behind you. Your black BMW M3 with the custom purple wheels sat pretty in the driveway. Touya had it custom-painted for you, said that everyone needs to know that you're his woman.

As you were backing out of the driveway, you heard your phone vibrating in your bag. 

🖤🫶🏾Husband💜 would like to FaceTime…

You declined the request and hooked your phone up to the car mount, immediately calling him back on the phone.

"What the fuck, Y/n? Why are you declining my calls? Where the hell are you at? I've been calling you all damn day!" He barked through the receiver, making you cringe.

"I-I just got in the car, I'm leaving Auntie's house, on the way home now…" 

You could almost hear him rolling his eyes on the other end.

"Yeah, and what did she want now? Still bitching about you marrying me?" He scoffed.

"Touya, stop that. She's only concerned about me, that's all."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Y/n. I know that your whole fucking family despises me, not that I give a fuck, though. I'm marrying you, not any of them."                

"That's true, Touya, but it would be better if you at least tried to get along with them."

"Well, maybe they should stop judging a book by its cover and try to get along with me since I'm about to be your husband."

"I don't think that's how it works, but okay, Touya. I'll be pulling up in a little bit."

"Are you trying to rush me off the phone? I called because I want to see you before I leave tonight. Gotta fly to Tijuana for business."

Of course, 'for business' meant, to pick up a "shipment".

—-

Ayy, don't you know I got kis by the three

When I chirp, shawty chirp back

Louie knapsack where I'm holding all the work at

What you know about that? 

What you know about that? 

What you know about that? 

I know all about that

—-

"And by 'see me', you mean get your dick wet. I have wedding stuff to do, baby. I have to fly to Paris to pick up my dress and how am I supposed to do that if you're taking the jet?" You complained. 

"Just send your assistant to get it. I need you here to take care of me, baby doll, just like how I take care of you. Come on, now."

You wanted to retort that you needed to be there to try it on, but there was no arguing with Touya, especially when he wanted sex.

"Okay, I'm almost there. Tell the guards to open the gate."

—-

"Ohh shit, Touya, baby, give me that dick~"

"Yeah baby, you like that?" 

And that's how the two of you went along for the rest of the night, Touya putting you in all different types of positions, beating your shit in.

He was always rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass until it was raw and red.

He made sure to leave marks all over your neck and titties as well, marring your brown skin so that whenever any man looked at you, they'd KNOW that you were getting dicked down by a real motherfucking king.

"God Y/n, how do you keep this shit so tight? I'm gonna bust my load in you, fuck around, and get you pregnant tonight, girl."

"Mmm, if we don't stop now you're going to miss your flight."

"Fuck it," He chuckled, "I'll call Shoto to handle it." 

Shoto, his younger brother who'd just finished college a semester ago. Touya had taken him underneath his wing to train him to be next in line for the family business.

His other siblings, Natsuo and Fuyumi, wanted nothing to do with this life and just worked everyday blue-collar jobs.

"Here, get on top of me. Ride this dick while I make the call."

You sighed but complied nonetheless and crawled up onto his lap as he reclined against the head of your shared California king bed.

"Hello?" You heard Shoto's bland, emotionless voice come over the receiver.

"Hey Sho, I need you to go handle that for me. Jet's already loaded and ready to go."

"What? Why can't you do it?" 

"Because I told you to do it and I'm the boss."

"Yeah whatever, you're probably too busy fucking. Hey Y/n." He snickered, causing your cheeks to heat up. He knew his older brother too well.

Touya hung up on him and tossed the phone to the side, grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto his thick cock.

"You gonna let me get you pregnant, huh, baby? Gonna let me breed this little cunt, stuff you nice and full, and make you fat with my seed?" 

You weren't quite sure that you were ready to have a child, but you were starting to get up in age and you and Touya are getting married, so what's the harm? You nodded.

"Yes, Touya. I love you. Make me a mommy."

—-

Have a baby by me, baby, be a millionaire 

Have a baby by me, baby, be a millionaire

Have a baby by me, baby, be a millionaire

Be a millionaire, be a millionaire, b-be a millionaire  

I don't play no games (I don't play no games)

So when I'm in that thang (when I'm in that thang)

Come see what I mean (see what I mean)

See what I mean, see what I mean, oh

I said lil mama put me on (baby, put me on)

Bet I'll have you gone (bet I'll have you gone)

Come see what I mean, see what I mean

See what I mean (see what I mean)

New music, new mood, new position 

New erotic sounds, it's going down, now listen

I can hear your heartbeat, you're sweating

I could paint a perfect picture 

I get deeper and deeper, I told ya I'd get ya

I'd work that murk that, just the way you like it, baby

Turn a quickie into an all-nighter maybe

Yo, I need you to be what I need, more than liquor and weed

I need you to maybe give me a seed

I need you to give me reason to breathe

I need you

—-

Time Skip, Wedding Day

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Fuyumi asked you while she was putting your veil in your hair.

You only giggled softly, rubbing a hand over your small baby bump.

"I think it's a little too late to back out now, Fuyumi." She shook her head, making her white and red curls bounce.

"It's never too late to change your mind. You're not his wife, yet. Y/n, I love my brother with all of my heart, but honestly, you deserve so much better than him."

It was hurtful to hear, but you weren't shocked by the young woman's words.

Natsuo and Fuyumi were like your family; they also didn't think that you should marry Touya.

"I'm pregnant with his child, Fuyu, and I don't want to be a single mother. I love Touya with all my heart as well, and whatever he went through in the past, we can get through it together. I'll be there for him, til death do us part."

Fuyumi just let out a long sigh and tried to put on a smile.

"I can't say I didn't try, but okay. If this is what will really make you happy. Just please take care of yourself and the baby, no matter what. Protect yourself."

She handed you your bouquet just as the wedding music began playing. 

"I'll see you at the altar."

She left, leaving you alone. You peeked out the door and saw the flower girls and ring bearers go down the aisle. 

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and tightened your hands around your flowers.

"Hey, beautiful."

Your head whipped around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.

It was Touya, standing there in his all-white suit with a purple silk dress shirt opened up to show off his tattooed chest. 

"Touya!? What are you doing here, you're supposed to be at the altar!"

"Hmm, the wedding can't start without us, baby. I just wanted to give you something really quick."

He reached into the breast pocket of the suit jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and a pen.

You watched him carefully.

"What is this?"

"A prenup."

"A what? Touya, I'm not signing a prenup minutes before our wedding! Why are you just bringing this to me now?"

He furrowed his white eyebrows, not liking the tone you were taking with him.

"I'm sorry, but who do you think you're talking to, Y/n? You should know not to ever raise your voice at me. Not even my own mother yells at me, baby doll, and you're damn sure not about to start. Now sign the goddamn prenup or I'm calling all this shit off." 

No way! He wouldn't actually call the wedding off, would he? Not after all of your hard work, not after everything you'd been through in the past couple of months.

Your dear aunt had been diagnosed with coronary artery disease a few months ago and hadn't been doing too well. She'd been in and out of the hospital frequently and even had to leave her job because of it.

You begged Touya to hire an in-home nurse to care for her and, after much disagreement, he finally let you.

Why would he do this to you now? Moments before your special day? 

With your lower lip wobbling and tears beginning to spill out of your eyes, you took the paper with a shaky hand and signed your signature on the line, initialing where it directed you to.

Touya chuckled darkly once you were done and took it back from you, stuffing it into his pocket.

Why would he make you sign a prenup? You didn't know much about this type of stuff, but usually, prenups weren't good.

However, you couldn't fathom losing Touya or your fairytale life. You were finally getting everything that you ever wanted.

A family.

"Hey, don't cry, baby doll. You know I'll always take care of you, right?"

He moved in to kiss you, his hand covering your bump and rubbing it softly. With his pinky, he swiped the tears from under your eyes, careful not to smudge your face makeup.

You nodded slowly and he smiled at you. 

"I love you, Y/n." 

With that, he left the room.

—

Five Years Later 

Being married to Touya was not at all how you expected it to be.

After quitting your job and becoming a full-time housewife, your life seemed to go into a downward spiral.

While you were dating, you’d found out that Touya and his siblings had grown up in an abusive household where his father beat him, his siblings, and their mother. His mother had had a hard time coping with what she'd been through, so the four siblings had agreed to have her committed to a mental health care facility.

During their childhood, in a fit of psychosis, their mother threw a pot of boiling water on Shoto, disfiguring the left side of his face. An ugly, red-marred patch of skin now covered the once-perfect porcelain. 

After that incident, Touya left home and never looked back. 

He talked very little about his father, so what you did know, you had to find out from Fuyumi, who still maintained limited contact with their father. Neither Natsuo nor Shoto talked about the man. 

Many times, you had tried to persuade Touya to get therapy in order to deal with his past traumas, but he never listened. If anything, he would become completely enraged whenever you would broach the subject.

It also didn't help that Touya was now even more deeply involved in the drug lifestyle. 

At first, it didn't bother you as much as it should have, but as time went on things just got worse and worse.

Your son, Takuya, was now five years old and you really didn't want him exposed to the people and dealings that Touya was involved in.

Takuya would ask you many questions:

Mommy, why is Daddy never home?

Who are these strange people in our house?

Why can't my friends come over to spend the night?

Why does Daddy have flour underneath his nose?

Yes.

Touya had been abusing cocaine ever since your third year of marriage.

He said that it helped ease his mind. Made him forget the past. 

A knock came on his office door, causing the turquoise-eyed man to look up at it.

"What, Y/n?" He asked in irritation once he looked up and saw you standing there, just staring at him.

"Are you seriously getting high in the middle of the day?"

Spread out over his desktop were multiple, identical lines of freshly chopped cocaine. With a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill, Touya closed off one of his nostrils while he used the bill to snort the white powder into the other.

He did it effortlessly, almost elegantly. 

"Touya, really? What if Takuya ever walked in and saw you doing this shit? You know he's getting older now, and he's started asking me questions about your…habit."

Touya didn’t seem deterred; better yet, he most likely hadn’t heard a word that you’d said as he focused on the feeling of the drug entering his system.

“Did you fucking need something, Y/n? If not, then kindly get the fuck out. I’m busy.”

You gave him an incredulous look but bit your tongue and nodded.

“I need you to sign the check for Takuya’s school tuition so I can mail it off today.”

Touya sucked his teeth and sniffled. With the back of his tattooed hand, he wiped his nose roughly.

“Of course, that’s what you always need. Money. “

With a soft sigh, you prepared yourself for one of his rants. On top of abusing drugs, Touya had been diagnosed with, post-traumatic stress disorder, dissociative identity disorder, and bipolar disorder. 

You’d seen him dissociate firsthand, especially when he was high. You figured that the alternate personality that he’d created stemmed from his traumatic childhood. This persona’s name was Dabi, and Dabi was not nice by any means. He was awful, much worse than normal, agitated Touya.

If it wasn’t for you insisting on having genetic testing done while you were pregnant, you’d have never found out what mental ailments your husband had been suffering from. 

“Well…if you hadn’t taken my name off of all the accounts, I could have done it myself and not have to disturb you while you’re taking care of business.” You finally snipped. You’d had enough of Touya’s drug abuse, verbal abuse, and emotional abuse.

You had gotten sick of him always taunting you, downplaying you, and making you feel as if you were less of a person because you had left your job, your family, and everything that you knew, in order to cling to him and become his wife.

He made you feel low, lower than the earth beneath your feet, and you had had enough of him.

To pour even more salt into your stinking, infected wounds, Touya treated you like a child. 

You had an allowance, you had to call and check in with him anytime you left the house, and he didn’t let you go anywhere without him or one of his guards. 

It hadn’t always been like this. No, this behavior only began once you attempted to leave him the first time.

You’d tried to leave Touya many times over the past five years, but your efforts were always in vain. No matter what you did or where you tried to go, he would always find you and bring you back, literally kicking and screaming. After a while, you just decided to give up, telling yourself that you’d never be able to get away from him.

—-

Mmmm

You high, baby? (Yeah)

Yeah? (Hahaha, talk to me)

You want me to tell you something? (Uh huh)

I know what you want to hear 

—-

The veins in his neck bulged and he turned on you, turquoise eyes flashing with lightning.

“Did you just talk back to me?”

The blood froze in your veins as Touya stood up, calmly pushing his desk chair back. The wheels screeched eerily across the wooden floor. Touya stomped towards you like a panther, waiting to attack and kill its prey.

“T-Touya- I…”

One hand was all it took to constrict your breathing. Touya held you up like a doll, the muscles in his arm barely flexing as he slammed you against the wooden double doors of the office entrance, making them rattle violently. Your little legs thrashed as you moved your body, attempting to get Touya off of you, to no avail.

“Bitch, how dare you disrespect me, after all I’ve done for you. I took you out of that shitty neighborhood you were living in, took care of you and that fucking brat, took care of your whole fucking family despite them cursing the very ground that I walk on. This is how you repay me? Flapping your fucking lips at me? HUH?!?!”

He yelled directly in your face, making you squint your eyes as spit flew from his lips. His face was so close to yours that you could see up his nostrils, see the white residue from the hit he’d just taken.

If he didn’t let you down soon, you’d pass out. Touya soon realized this, and he let you go, let your body drop to the ground with a ‘thud’ while he stepped back and regarded you without a smidgen of concern.

Your hands flew to your throat as you coughed violently. Your chest burned as you tried to regain the precious oxygen that your lungs had been deprived of for far too long.

—-

You know you want me, baby

You know I want you, too

They call me Superman

I'm here to rescue you 

I wanna save you, girl

Come be in Shady's world

(Ooo, boy, you drive me crazy)

Bitch, you make me hurl

—-

"You act like…," you wheezed, then halted to take in a few more deep breaths, "you act like I wasn't somebody before I met you. Like I wasn't on my own, living independently and happily before you came along and messed it all up!"

He must have found your lamentation amusing, because he chuckled, deep in his chest.

"Oh Y/n…when have you ever been independent? Your whole life you've always depended on someone. Your aunt, your family, your friends, and then me. You think you're so special, because what, you went to school and got a degree?"

Said degree was displayed on the back wall of his office. He'd let you hang it there after buying an expensive, mahogany wooden frame lined in real 24k gold for it. A gift for your first year wedding anniversary.

Now the object seemed to offend Touya. He made a beeline for it and snatched it off the back wall before sending it hurling across the room, narrowly missing you before it went crashing against the wall next to the door and shattering.

You whimpered in fear as he began walking back over to you. 

Kneeling down so that he was eye-level with you, much like he'd done at your first meeting in the salon, he glared at you with eyes colder than Antarctica. 

"How's that degree working for you now, Y/n? You're nothing more than a stupid slut willing to open her legs for the first man that showed her any shred of attention. You're pathetic, and I can't stand the fucking sight of you." He said lowly, the baritone of his voice rumbling in your ears.

You buried your head in your hands, the tears flowing freely down your firearms as you tried to shield yourself from him, from his rage. His hatred.

It wasn't like Touya had never yelled at you before or threw fits when he was high, but this was the first time in five years that he'd ever put his hands on you.

And it would be the last. 

"That's it, Touya! I've had enough! You're impossible and I'm finished dealing with you and your issues. I'm leaving for good this time."

Touya laughed at you again. He just kept laughing for a long time.

"That's really funny. Have fun trying to leave me with no money and nowhere to go. You'll be back. You always come back, Y/n, because you can't survive without me."

Your tear-soaked face curled up in disgust; you couldn't believe what this man was saying to you right now.

"Since you're so adamant on leaving though, you can go ahead and get the fuck out." 

"Pardon?" 

He stood to full height again.

"Did I stutter? Get the fuck out of my house, right now, Y/n." 

"No! We're married, which makes this my house, too! You can't just put me out!"

He must have thought that you still weren't getting enough oxygen to your brain, because Touya grabbed you by the arms and hoisted you up.

You kicked, screamed, and clawed at him all the way, almost causing him to drop you a few times, but finally he made it to the large ornate doors leading to the outside of the estate.

"NO! TOUYA, NO! NO!" 

—-

They call me Superman

Leap tall hoes in a single bound

I'm single now

Got no ring on this finger now

I'll never let another chick bring me down

In a relationship? Save it, bitch

Babysit? You make me sick

Superman ain't saving shit 

Girl, you can jump on Shady's dick

—-

Thank goodness Takuya was at school and not here to witness the scene of his father throwing his mother out of her own house.

"I hate you, Touya! You hear me?! I HATE YOU! You won't get away with this!" 

Was the last thing the snow-haired man heard before he slammed the door in your face. You heard all of the locks and the deadbolt click.

With fury, you kicked at the closed door with all your might.

You were kicked out now, with nothing. Not your purse, wallet, clothes, phone, or anything. Only your Apple watch on your wrist, which you guessed might be a bit of help.

Looking down at it, you noticed that it was charged to 75%, which was good. You'd have time to get to a charger. 

With an indignant huff, you rushed down the many stairs leading from the house and into the driveway where your car was parked.

It would be a dumb idea to get in and try to drive it, because Touya more likely than not had a tracker installed into it. However, you had an idea.

—-

Don't put out, I'll put you out 

Won't get out, I'll push you out

Puss blew out, popping shit

Wouldn't piss on fire to put you out

—-

See, though you had been quite gullible the past five years, believing that your sham of a marriage was pure and true, and that your bastard of a husband was your Prince Charming, you were still a college-educated woman and had plenty of good sense to use.

When Touya started getting high every other day, you began stealing his money and putting it away when he wasn't looking.

Small amounts here and there that you passed off with simple excuses that Touya found to be believable. No way his dumb little housewife would ever think to steal from him.

How wrong he was.

You had accumulated a good amount over the last three years, but when you first tried to leave Touya, he became suspicious of you, thus limiting your access to the money by taking your name off the accounts and giving you a weekly allowance. 

How stupid of him.

You took a portion of that money and stored it away every month, in case you ever needed it. In case you finally got the courage to leave Touya and never look back.

The day had finally come.

Pulling up to your sister-in-law's house, you waited for her to come to the door. Looking down at your Gucci slides, you felt embarrassed about the situation that had just occurred. 

"Y/n! What are you doing here? What's happened?" 

With the look on your face, she immediately knew that something terrible had happened and that her elder brother was more than likely the cause of it. 

She moved aside so you could come inside. You sat on her couch and put your hands in your lap.

After swallowing down the lump in your throat, you began to speak.

"Touya…he, um, he locked me out of the house."

"HE WHAT?!"

You had to cover your ears slightly from the sheer volume of her exasperated voice.

"Yeah. We got into an argument and he tossed me out onto my ass like Jazz from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."

Fuyumi didn't laugh at your joke; instead, she gave you a look of sympathy. 

"Y/n…I'm sorry you had to go through that…" Her voice began to crack and you gave her a questioning gaze.

"Was he…?" She couldn't even finish the question. 

You immediately understood and nodded.

"Yes. He was high." 

"And where was Takuya?"

"He's at school."

A sigh of relief from the white-haired woman. "Thank the heavens."

Fuyumi moved from her spot on the opposite couch to come over and give you a tight hug. You sank into her warm embrace and hugged her back, more tears bubbling up as feelings of shame, stupidity, and anger came to the surface. 

"It's okay, Y/n. It's all going to be okay. I feel like this is my fault. I should have tried harder to get you to leave Touya. I should have-"

You stopped her from talking by pulling away from the hug and giving her a small glare.

"Don't you dare try to blame yourself for his actions. He's a grown ass man, yet he acts like a child. Don't worry, Fuyumi. This time I'm done with him for good. It's time for me to move along in my life with my child and leave Touya's miserable ass behind. I tried everything to help him and all he did was treat me like shit for five years."

Fuyumi was a bit stunned to hear you speak with so much initiative, but she nodded, nonetheless.

"If you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call me or Natsu. We want what's best for you and Takuya. Always." 

—-

After talking with Fuyumi for a little while longer, she ended up calling Natsuo over, who works as a mechanic.

With a little trial and error, he managed to remove the tracker from your car. Touya had hidden it meticulously, but he was no match for Natsuo's years of experience with machinery.

You finally bid your brother-in-law and sister-in-law goodbye so you could go and speak to your lawyer before picking up Takuya from school.

—-

I can't get to work on time

Can't believe the words to him I just said

Who the hell argue and fight 

Like dogs at six in the morning?

I know it's gonna be some more shit tonight (oooh) 

Our pastor's calling, telling me I done went too far, 

And I'm sitting round town and my friends can't recognize me

Cause I took a chance on love 

It's like, I'm dying (ooo dying)

For you, I gave my heart

And turned my back against the world

Because I was your girl, girl, girl

I done damn near lost my mama

I done been through so much drama

I done turned into the woman I never thought I'd be

I'm ready to sign them papers, papers 

—-

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Todoroki, but the prenup that you signed is very much valid. According to this, he really doesn't have to give you anything."

You blew out a frustrated breath. How could you have been such a fool? If Touya wanted to call the wedding off because you wouldn't sign, you should have just let him. 

It would have saved you a world of heartache and headache, that's for sure. 

"So, there's absolutely nothing that I can do?" You asked the well-dressed man in front of you. 

You fiddled with the rose gold, 5-carat diamond aquamarine pear-shaped ring set on your left ring finger. 

“What about our son? Did he say anything about providing for him?”

The brunette man pushed his glasses from the bridge of his nose up to his eyes. 

“Despite his trying to implement a clause in which he wouldn’t have to pay child support since the child was conceived outside of the marriage, as the child’s biological father he’s still legally responsible for providing for Takuya. Though he could contest his paternity and ask for a DNA test.” He set the paper on the desk and looked at you.

“That slimy bastard…he did everything in his power to make sure that I’d never try to leave him. He’s sick….”

“Again, I’m very sorry, Mrs. Todoroki. I wish that there was more that I could tell you.”

“I just can’t believe this…Touya had all of this planned from the very start. He came to me in a moment where he knew I couldn’t refuse him. He knew that I needed to lean on him at that time and he took advantage of me.”

“What do you mean by 'took advantage of you'?” The man in front of you sat up straighter in his chair, slightly leaning his body towards you.

“Well, I never expected that Touya would ask me to sign a prenup. He never made it a priority to discuss how we’d do finances; he just always said that he’d take care of me. Which is why it was such a shock that he made me sign the prenup minutes before I was about to walk down the aisle to marry him.”

“He asked you to sign a prenup minutes before your wedding? He coerced you and didn’t even give you time to seek your own legal consultation. I’m glad you told me this, Mrs. Todoroki; this changes everything.” 

Could this be it? Could this finally be your way out of this marriage?

“And that’s not all! I was pregnant with Takuya at the time and my hormones were all over the place. My aunt…she’d been very sick as well, and it was just an overall bad time for me. I w-wasn’t thinking straight…I-I just…I just wanted someone to be there for me. I didn’t want Touya to call off the wedding.” 

You cursed yourself for crying over this again, but speaking about it out in the open really made you realize how badly Touya had manipulated you. From the very beginning of the relationship he tried to break you down and make you weak for him, and you let him. Your lawyer handed you some tissue from the box on the desk.

No more weakness. No more vulnerability. It was time to be strong; you had a child to raise and he needed his mother.

It was time to fight for what was rightfully owed to both of you.

“Coercion and signature under duress; oh, he’s done for. I’ll make some calls to get this in front of the judge as soon as possible. Don’t worry, Mrs. Todoroki, I’ll handle everything from here.”

—-

You left the law office with a massive weight lifted off of your heart. 

Takuya's private school was only a few minutes away if you took the interstate, so, after picking him up, you'd probably just go back to Fuyumi's house for the night.

"God, I hate this bend in the road, it makes me feel like I'm going to fall off into a ditch." You grimaced while holding the steering wheel carefully.

When you were almost around the corner, a black SUV flew past you at top speed and caused your car to lose control and spin in circles several times before crashing into oncoming traffic. 

—-

You had to have blacked out from the impact - were you dead? 

No, your hearing was still intact. You could hear something in the distance: footsteps.

Your head was bent at an odd angle and you could feel the blood dripping down your forehead.

"Well, would you look at my little broken doll, all bent out of shape. It's a miracle you aren't dead, huh? That was a nasty accident you had."

With you not being able to turn your neck to the sound of his voice, Touya had to step into your line of sight. He looked down into your eyes, his own turquoise ones shining with mirth. They seemed darker, more sinister.

Then it dawned on you. 

This wasn't Touya.

It was Dabi.

"W-w-what's wrong…with you…? You're…. you're insane…"

That was the final thing you said before slipping into unconsciousness.

—-

Dabi just watched your unmoving form with an evil grin plastered across his face. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one.

With his free hand, he reached out to stroke your face while his eyes glowed.

"I know you want, me baby. I think I want you, too. I'm here to save you, girl. Come be in Shady's world.  I wanna grow together, let's let our love unfurl. You know you want me, baby. You know I want you, too. They call me Superman, I'm here to rescue you."

With a flick of his wrist, he threw the cigarette down and the entire car caught on fire.

—-

You want what you can't have

Ooo, girl, that's too damn bad

Don't touch what you can't grab

End up with two back hands

Girl you just blew your chance 

Don't mean to ruin your plans

—-

 911, what's your emergency?

"Yes, my wife has been in a terrible car accident! Her car caught on fire and she was trapped inside. I-I pulled her out, but she's unconscious and I think her neck might be broken!

Okay sir, I'm going to need you to get her to a safe location and wait for help to arrive. Avoid moving her anymore and try to keep her neck supported.

"O-okay."

—-

Three Months Later

You ended up with three severed vertebrae in your neck. The doctors still don't know how you didn't end up paralyzed or dead, but at this point it must have just been a miracle from God.

Touya brought you to the hospital under the guise of the distraught husband and no one seemed to suspect anything.

Except for Natsuo, Fuyumi, and your lawyers.

Your family was just grateful that you were alive and didn't think to question how the accident may have occurred, though Touya didn't get away completely scot-free.

Your lawyer was the number one accusatory figure when your divorce case went to court. He argued that Touya had been following you, tracking your phone, and was angry that you were finally filing for divorce from him.

That you were going to actually leave him this time.

Touya had an amazing defense lawyer that continued to play him up as the distraught husband; Touya knew what he was doing when he decided to stay at the scene of the accident and "help" you. Your other lawyers and Touya's went toe to toe in the courtroom for days.

— 

Caroline, Caroline

See Caroline, all the guys would say

She's mighty fine, mighty fine

But mighty fine only got you somewhere half the time 

And the other half either got you

Cussed out or coming up short

—-

The jury was at a deadlock.

It wasn't an easy fight. More days in the courtroom with you sitting there in a neck brace, your body bandaged beneath your clothes from the burns you sustained in the fire.

A miracle that you were even alive. 

Finally, after two weeks of court, Touya was convicted of attempted murder.

His defense lawyer tried to go for an insanity plea which was supported by him staying at the accident scene and bringing you to the hospital afterwards.

The prosecutor argued that Touya, though aware of his mental illness, never sought the proper help and continued to mentally and emotionally torture and abuse his wife.

These claims were supported by Natsuo and Fuyumi, who both agreed to testify on your behalf since you couldn't speak up for yourself due to spousal privilege. 

More deliberation, more waiting.

At last, there was a breakthrough.

The insanity plea fell through and Touya finally decided to just plead guilty.

—-

Regardless, we don't want to get involved with all them lawyers

And judges, just to hold grudges in the courtroom

I wanna see your support bra, not support you 

—-

He was called to the witness stand, where he told all the grueling, gritty details of the past five years of your marriage. As much as he didn't want to let you go, he just couldn't bring himself to drag this battle out any farther. After hearing his testimony, the jury found him guilty and he was sentenced to fifteen years to life in prison.

So now, here you are, sitting in front of the man that you once loved with all of your heart.

Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, wrists and ankles shackled, Touya regarded you with a downtrodden expression. 

"Y/n… I'm sorry for everything that I put you through. I just want you to know one thing: I'll always love you and my son." 

With a dry chuckle, you shook your head.

"I don't think you know the meaning of the word love, Touya." 

You pushed the divorce papers with your wedding rings situated on top of them towards him and nodded up at the guard standing behind him.

The elder man unlocked Touya's wrist cuffs so the inmate could sign his name where required. He didn't even read over it.

The shackles went back on immediately, and, with one last look, the guard escorted Touya out of the room and back to his cell. 

—-

The sunshine was bright on your face as you walked out of the prison. A funny thought crossed your mind and caused you to giggle out loud.

For years, you'd felt like a prisoner under Touya's watchful gaze.

Oh how the tables have turned.

—-

I know you like to think your shit don't stank 

But lean a little bit closer, see

Roses really smell like booo-booo-ooo

Yeah, roses really smell like booo-booo-ooo

—

a/n: i feel like i was starting to drag this out, so I just had to hurry up and end it 💀 i still think it came out pretty good though! i had to do a lot of research for the legal part and i still don't think it's all correct, but oh well! i ain't no damn lawyer/judge!😂 

[shizucheese]

So you know how there are some people who like to attack/ vilify those who don't like Lae'zel and they try to paint it as a sexism thing or claim it's "because she's not conventionally attractive" or w/e and then bring up Astarion and Shadowheart "because they're racist too" in the same breath? I think I had a bit of an epiphany on this that needs to be shared. Putting content warnings here as well as in the tags just to make sure we're thoroughly covered: references to trama, physical and verbal abuse, SA, toxic family dynamics, religious trauma, and religious zealotry ahead. Also note that this doesn't just apply to people whose favorite character is Astarion and/ or Shadowheart, I'm just focusing on them since they're the ones people complaining about people not liking Lae'zel always bring up.

Okay, now with all that out of the way... I think the people who complain about people not liking Lae'zel but liking Astarion and Shadowheart and fixating on the whole "but they're racist too" argument miss some pretty major points regarding why a lot of people like Astarion and Shadowheart and how the way Lae'zel treats you in Act 1 is a major factor. A lot of people like Astarion and Shadowheart because on some level, they relate to them. Maybe they came from a household where one or more adult was abusive (physically or verbally), narcissistic, overbearing and/ or controlling. Or maybe it was a friend or romantic partner, or more than one, who used them and abused them and treated them like dirt. Or maybe they're an SA survivor. Or maybe they have religious trauma, and maybe that religious trauma is exacerbated by the fact that they have people in their lives who refuse to change their views, or even double down on them, even when shown evidence that contradicts their beliefs. Or maybe it's some combination of these.

Even the reasons why Astarion doesn't like the Gur and Shadowheart doesn't like Githyanki is steeped in trauma: it was a group of Gur beating Astarion nearly to death that lead to him being tricked by Cazador into becoming his spawn (and if he hadn't been turned into a vampire, he would have died), and Shadowheart makes multiple references to the fact that she saw githaynki cut down her comrades during her mission with some serious brutality.

A lot of these people who identify with Astarion and Shadowheart because of their own past traumas have promised themselves that they're never going to let anyone teat them that way, speak to them that way, try to control them, act like they own them, etc. etc. ever again. I know that's what happened to me. Now let's look at how Lae'zel treats you in Act 1, shall we? She's verbally abusive. When you try to talk to her, she simply replies to you with "Speak" as if you're some kind of dog. When she first propositions you for sex, she's still at her most abusive towards you, but because you fight good, she wants to lick your skin, taste your sweat, and "take what's hers." Even once the entire party knows--because we literally all see it in action with our own eyeballs--that the only thing preventing us from becoming either brain washed slaves to the Absolute or just straight up becoming mind flayers is the Astral Prism, she still keeps trying to take it and return it to the githyanki, even going so far as to try and kill Shadowheart for it. Even when her loyalty to her culture nearly gets her killed in the Zaithisk, and you tell her the true nature of it, she refuses to accept the reality and tries to blame the doctor, who she accuses of being a traitor, rather than accept that no, actually, it was working exactly as intended. It takes Voss showing up at our camp after everything else that had happened, and telling her the truth about Orpheus--something we had already been told about and found books covering before that point--to get her to even consider the fact that um actually maybe Vlaakith is evil (something that coming face to face with her and her nearly killing us didn't even convince her of).

All of these things I've described about Lae'zel in Act 1 are things that can be incredibly triggering to someone who has experienced any of the traumatic experiences I described above that has resulted in people identifying with and latching onto Astarion and Shadowheart. And like....does Lae'zel get better in Acts 2 and 3? Sure. But by that point, the damage has been done. And like in real life, Lae'zel isn't owed anything just because by Act 2 she's clearing the bear minimum of not being straight up abusive to your character. People aren't required to stop ranking her as their least favorite character, or straight up not liking her, after the way she treats you for the first third of the game. Especially not when that "first third" can easily be the part of the game you spend the most time in, with you spending dozens of hours in that part of the game, which also means they're spending the most time with Lae'zel before her character improves at all. Like I'm not saying that the ven diagram between "people who relate to Astarion and Shadowheart because of trauma" and "people who don't like Lae'zel" is a perfect circle, but the overlap is probably a way rounder oval shape than people who are too busy insisting that if she were a handsome man she would totally be popular appreciate. Before I wrap this up, I want to touch on that last part because I think it's important to address. I've seen people make that claim, but would Lae'zel really be more popular if she were a guy? I haven't seen a single person who makes this claim say they would like Lae'zel more if she were a guy. What I have seen is multiple people say in response that they would actually like her less if she had been a guy, which is honestly also how I feel.

Maybe this is something worth exploring in a separate post someday, but I would actually argue that the only reason Lae'zel works as a party member at all is because she's a woman. Flip her gender and she becomes an abusive man who treats you like you're beneath him and who says he wants to taste your skin and your sweat and claim ownership of your body as the first "nice" thing he ever says to you. As a woman who already has to deal with the general sexism of our society (including lawmakers trying to take ownership of our bodies and make medical decisions for us instead of leaving it between us and our doctors), especially a woman with multiple male-dominated hobbies, that's something I would find incredibly triggering--(even more so than I already found Lae'zel's sex proposition, which already made me super uncomfortable and had me thinking "wow imagine if a guy said this"). That's not "edgy and mysterious;" a man who treats you poorly but still thinks he's entitled to you/ your body, would be the poster boy for toxic masculinity, and I can promise you that more people would have taken issue with a character like that than they do with Lae'zel as she is.

Especially people with trauma like what I described at the beginning of this..

[trashybandit]

To Be Perfect

Many thanks to my beloved girlie pop @cheesus-doodles for proof-reading~ This entire fic is running under the assumption that if you're the only (competent) Ramshackle student, then you're automatically the Housewarden, alongside being a Prefect. Please don't think about it too hard (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Possessive Riddle Rosehearts x Prefect/Housewarden Reader

Tw: Possessive behavior, mentions of verbal abuse

Riddle stared at his pocket watch with a frown etched into his face. You were already five minutes late to your how-to-housewarden lessons, again. Snapping the watch closed with tad much force, he sipped his afternoon tea in a vain effort to calm himself down. Perhaps you were busy cleaning up after that rulebreaker of a monster and his companions. It wasn’t the first time this had happened after all. The last time, he recalled that it was because the disastrous trio had managed to set the prized Heartslabyul hedges on fire and were squabbling over who was responsible while you were trying to make sure the entire dorm didn’t burn down. A shameful sight really and a terrible stain on his, and your, legacies. 

He had seen how you tried and failed to reign in your friend group, forced to clean up after their messes without fail. How your “friends” ignored your warnings yet came back with their (metaphorical or actual) tails between their legs, begging for your assistance, only to do it again. ‘This would need to change,’ he internally declared as he slammed the tea cup down. A housewarden didn’t bow down to their wards under any circumstance. 

And a housewarden should, at the very least, carry an air of confidence, one that demands respect, yet here you were, slouching as you dragged your feet despondently towards the tea table. Instinctively, Riddle wasted no time reminding you of that fact, only finally stopping when faced with your puffy eyes and left opening and shutting his mouth until he wisely decided to keep silent. An awkward silence fell over the table as you busied yourself getting as comfortable as you could be in this situation. The clacking of teaware was the only noise made in the otherwise silent room before Riddle seemingly regained his confidence, asking why you were ten whole minutes late in that all too familiar “I-swear-I-won’t-be-mad” tone.

You knew he’d be mad. Years of experience only confirmed your gut feeling, from how he gripped his cup too tightly or how he seemed too interested in getting you to talk. For a split second, you could see them, that smile that wormed under your skin, eye contact that pressured you to answer, each second wiping more and more of the initial kindness you were approached with. You could hear the countdown of the imminent explosion where all attempts at civil communication would be abandoned in favor of intimidation, perhaps even turning barks into actual bites. 

Waves of danger washed over your exhausted self. Fear coiled in your stomach as you tried to keep up the facade of nonchalance, with any slip up being akin to bleeding out in shark-infested waters. 

An expectant “Well?” cut the remaining time in half. You needed a solution, fast.

“I-t’s…just been a difficult d-day. I’m sorry for being late, Riddle.”

“That isn’t an excuse.”

The stern response could only be met with you avoiding eye contact, trying to play-up your innocence without opening your mouth. Yet, using these tactics on Riddle of all people was a useless endeavor. A subtle tired frown graced his doll-like face upon remembering how he’d done the exact same thing when his mother caught him breaking the rules previously, back when he didn’t understand the importance of them. They could have worked on someone else perhaps, someone uninformed on such mannerisms, but not him.

You must already know that you were in the wrong, and all he needed to do was to show you the importance of the rules. This wasn’t going to be as easy as collaring you until you picked up the message though, mainly because that was useless, but also because you were just so painfully close to understanding everything he stood for yet so far away. Your “friends” kept dragging you farther and farther away, and admittedly you did the same to him, showing him how not everyone was ready for his rather rigorous lifestyle, and going as far to insinuate that not even he was. That all awaited him was a life constricted by unnecessary rules, forever living in a cage of his own creation, all suggested in a voice that sounded like you knew what you were saying. 

But unlike you, he wasn’t weak. He wasn’t someone who cowered from reality, unable to accept that others knew better than you; rather, he knew that these rules were a symbol of love created by people who cared about you.

You just needed his help to see this fact. 

Pushing a plate filled with your favorites across the table at you, Riddle’s response was to begin the lesson, silently doubling down on his goal. He would get you to see his point of view, he knew. It was just a matter of time and perseverance.

[the-west-meadow]

Nowhere

Kendall Roy x Reader

tw: suicidal thoughts, verbal abuse, drug/alcohol abuse, drunk driving

As you stood in the shade of Connor’s patio, watching Logan and his children walk towards the old adobe church, Kendall’s absence was painfully apparent. You had grown used to seeing him at his father’s side. But he had not come with his family to New Mexico. It was a shame, you thought; he would have liked it here.

Greg, standing beside you in a long peacoat, waved as they disappeared behind the wooden church doors.

“What do you think they’re going to talk about?” Greg said.

“Years of suppressed trauma, maybe.”

“Wow. You think?”

You shrugged. “They probably won’t get around to it.”

You strolled back towards the house, where the others were sitting by the pool. Anyone who was not a child of Logan Roy had been left behind. Marcia, Tom, and Willa eyed you as you entered the house with Greg.

Greg leaned on the kitchen counter as you poured yourself a shot of whiskey from the mini-bar.

“Getting right to it, huh?” said Greg.

“You want some?”

“I’m good. It’s a little early for my system.”

Tom strolled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.

“Hey, rascals. I see you breaking into the liquor stash. You should have invited me.”

“Well, you’re invited now,” joked Greg.

Tom leaned on the counter and grinned at you both.

“Here we are. The outcasts.”

“I’ll admit, I do feel kind of left out,” said Greg.

“God, wouldn’t you give anything to be a fly on the wall in that room? The whole thing is so uncomfortable it makes me want to puke. I love it.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The name on the screen made your heart jump: Kendall Roy.

“Excuse me a second,” you said, slipping out of the kitchen.

“Is that a new lover?” Tom called after you. You jogged through the house to the room where you were staying and shut the door behind you.

“Hey, what’s up?” you said, keeping your voice low.

“Hey, Y/N. How you doing?”

“Surviving,” you said. “How are you?”

“Can you come meet me? I’m somewhere outside of Albuquerque.”

“What? When did you get here?”

“I’ll fill you in. Are you coming?”

“I’m at the ranch right now. I don’t have a car.”

“Can you figure something out?”

You thought fast, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re the best.”

You hung up, heart racing. You hadn’t heard from Kendall in weeks. He texted occasionally to check in, but it had been a long time since you heard his voice. It was a painful reminder of how much you had missed him lately.

Tom and Greg looked up as you walked into in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” Tom asked.

“Just a family thing,” you said.

“Oh, come on. You can’t have a personal life. There’s only work, work, work!”

Tom tossed back the rest of his drink and set his glass down.

“Okay, I’ll fuck off. Both of you come sit by the pool and save me from Marcia and Willa. I mean it.”

You and Greg watched until he was out the door, then Greg turned to you in anticipation.

“Well?”

“That was Kendall. He’s here.”

“Are you serious?”

“He wants me to meet him. But I don’t have a fucking car.”

“Right.” Greg glanced around as if looking for an answer. “Okay, I’m not supposed to know this, but there’s a collection of old cars in Connor’s garage. And, stupidly, all the keys are hanging on a rack in the garage. So if someone wanted to take one of those cars out for a drive while everyone was in therapy, I doubt anyone would notice for a few hours at least.”

“Cover for me. Make up a story.”

“Okay, yeah-“

But you were already gone.

You felt like a thief, skulking around the sides of the huge adobe ranch house, past the refurbished church and towards the unlocked garage. Lined up in the cool darkness were half a dozen vintage cars. Spotless. Expensive. Fueled up and ready to ride. You slowed down, taking your time to choose your ride. This was a once in a lifetime chance, after all. When Connor found out, you’d probably be banned from the state of New Mexico.

You chose an aqua 1967 Cadillac de Ville convertible. Sitting in the smooth leather seat, you watched with giddy panic as the garage door opened. Then you gunned it, kicking up a cloud of red dust as you escaped down the long ranch road from Connor’s estate.

The roads in New Mexico were long, straight, and empty. Gnarled barbed wire fences emerged from the scrublands, and distant mountains rolled beneath white clouds. It was the antithesis of what you were used to in New York. Here, everything was low to the ground, wild, free. You flew down the roads, the wind roaring all around you.

It was an hour’s drive to Albuquerque. You kept driving until you reached a diner in a small desert town beyond the city. When you rolled into the parking lot, you saw Kendall standing outside, smoking. Your heart swelled at the familiar sight of him. He stared as the aqua Cadillac parked squarely in front of him.

You cut the engine.

“Hey,” you called.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Kendall strolled up to the car, looking it over. Then he shook his head and let out a short laugh.

“Alright. Not really what I had in mind. But it’s cool.”

As he came closer, you were able to take a good look at him. He looked different. He was tan from the desert sun, dressed in a denim jacket and black jeans. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. There was also an edginess, a restlessness to his movements that you didn’t recognize.

He dropped his cigarette, stepped on it, and put his hands in his pockets. You could feel him taking you in behind his dark shades.

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

“You too.”

“Let’s figure out a game plan. I feel like I just landed on an alien planet.”

You sat across from Kendall in the booth, squinting in the hard sunlight that slanted through the window. The waiter brought two mugs of hot coffee. You sipped it gratefully, feeling it nudge against your dull headache. As the waiter stepped away, you took in the sight of Kendall sitting across from you.

“How long have you been here?” you asked.

“A few days. Just clearing my head.”

“You seem good.”

“I feel good.” He sipped his coffee, eyeing you over the rim of his mug. “How have things been for you while I was gone?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. I don’t have many allies.”

“You and Greg seem pretty tight.”

“I guess so. You cling to each other for survival when you have an insane boss.”

“Pretty bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t this bad when you were around. You’re like a path through the insanity.”

“Well, thanks. But I’ve done plenty of fucked up things, too.”

“It’s different. This borders on abuse.”

Kendall looked alarmed. “Hold on, you don’t mean, like—“

“No, no. Nothing like that. Just psychological shit.”

“Are you okay, though?”

“I’m coping.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m drinking a lot more.”

Kendall nodded, still peering at you intently. “Uh-huh.”

You gazed into the steaming coffee for a moment before voicing the question that was on your mind.

“Does this mean you’re back?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m still working up the courage to see my family.”

He didn’t say any more. The waiter brought your food; huevos rancheros. Kendall stuck with coffee. He watched you dig in with a slight smile.

“You seem like you’re thriving here. Big blue Cadillac. Local cuisine.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s very different here.”

“Seriously. I feel like never get to see the real you. We’re always under the cloud of my dad. You know what I mean?”

You nodded. ”Everyone’s been on eggshells around him this week. I don’t know how you live with it.”

“It’s fucking torture.”

He was smiling, but you could see the pain in his dark eyes.

“Are you going to eat anything?” you finally asked.

“Not that hungry. I guess the desert’s making an ascetic out of me.”

He smiled again and looked down at his hands, turning his sunglasses over and over. He hadn’t stopped fidgeting through the entire meal. You set your fork down and slid your empty plate to the side.

“Hey,” he said, “How long can you be away?”

“At least until someone notices the car is gone.”

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere.”

You drove the Cadillac as Kendall leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the desert fly past. An orange glow filled the sky as the sun sank lower.

“How far do you want to go tonight?” he asked.

Your heart skipped. “What are you asking?”

He laughed. “Jesus. Not like that. I mean how far do you want to drive? Mexico?”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t know. Am I?”

You looked at him, and you still couldn’t tell. The sun was beginning to sink, casting long shadows on the black road. The mountains grew darker in the distance. Kendall leaned forward, peering out at the desert.

“Let’s stop up here for a second.”

You slowed the car, pulling to the side of the road. Low music drifted from the radio. You cut the engine, suddenly surrounded by a deafening silence. Kendall went very still, listening.

“This is a good place,” he said in a soft voice. He opened his door and started out. “Come on.”

You followed. Small jackrabbits leapt out of your way on the path, which was surrounded by yellow-flowering creosote. A low breeze set everything in motion; the shrubs, the sand, the furtive animals.

You climbed a low plateau that overlooked the sprawling desert. Kendall stood taking it all in. He pulled a small baggy from his pocket and flicked it with his fingernail. You watched in alarm as he dispensed a small amount onto the flesh of his thumb and sniffed sharply. His body seemed to relax. His expression grew lighter. He looked at you almost apologetically, as if awaiting your judgement.

“Yeah. Sorry. This is what I’ve really been doing.”

It was all starting to make sense. The restlessness, the edginess. The fact that he had been here for days without telling anyone.

“Shit, Kendall,” you murmured.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you, though?”

“Not really. You?”

You looked at his hands, which still held the bag of coke. Without a word, Kendall tapped out a rough line of powder onto the flesh of his thumb and offered it to you. You leaned forward, pressing one nostril closed, and snorted it off his hand. When you sat up, the world was reeling. The sunset had turned everything to flame. You looked at Kendall and smiled.

“I’m glad you came here,” you said.

“I’m sorry I left you alone with them. I just didn’t want to bring you down with me.”

“I’d rather work for you. I feel like I’m going to have a fucking panic attack when your dad comes into a room.”

“Now you know what my entire life’s been like.” He smiled. “If you’re not careful, you’ll turn into me.”

You turned to look at him. “But I admire you more than anyone.”

Kendall laughed. Tears slowly rose in his eyes.

“Wow. Never thought I’d hear those words.”

He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m serious,” you said.

“You know, my dad never praises anyone. But everything I do is for him, just hoping that one day he’ll look up and say that I did a good job.”

You sat for a long time watching the sunset until the sky grew purple and dark. Eventually you wavered to your feet, then held out your hand for Kendall. With a big heave, you got him to his feet. He stumbled forward into your arms, then leaned heavily into you. You put your arms hesitantly on his back, feeling the dampness of his shirt. He rested his forehead on your shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said.

You squeezed your arms tighter around him.

“I missed you too.”

He quietly withdrew from your arms. You began to scramble down the plateau, busting your asses several times. By the time you reached the bottom, you were cracking up, covered in dirt. Kendall doubled over with laughter, his hands on his knees, wiping tears from his eyes. Then he looked up and smiled: that big, heart-melting smile.

Your heart suddenly grew warm, despite the oncoming desert cold. As you drove, you snuck a glance at Kendall. His face was turned towards the red sunset, glowing with happiness. A false happiness, you knew. But he deserved all that he could get.

As you pulled up the driveway to Connor’s ranch, you saw a tall figure running out to meet you. It was Greg. Kendall hopped out of the car and pulled Greg to him in a hug.

“What up, Greg?”

“Hey man, I’m really happy to see you but I also have bad news. Turns out those cars are highly precious to Connor. Also, Logan is pretty unhappy about the situation.”

“Does he know I’m here?” Kendall said.

“Well, yeah. It was hard to explain otherwise.”

“That’s what he’s unhappy about. My dad doesn’t give a shit about the car.”

Kendall started towards the house with you and Greg following close behind.

“Is he okay?” Greg said quietly.

You just shook your head. “I don’t think he should be here right now.”

It was cool and silent inside the adobe house. Then, the unmistakable boom of Logan’s voice shook the air.

“Where the fuck are they?”

Kendall seemed to waver in his tracks, then forged ahead towards the kitchen.

Everyone stood together, waiting. They fell silent as you entered the room.

“Has everyone resolved their familial issues?” Kendall said as he strolled forward.

“Jesus, is he high?” said Shiv.

“Are you blind?” said Roman. “He’s completely fucking wasted.”

Logan made a beeline for you, causing your heart to drop steeply.

“I should have you fucking arrested. Car theft, drug possession. What else?”

“Hey, fuck off,” Kendall said, stepping between you. “She was just doing what I asked.”

Logan’s eyes pierced through you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t escape the vice grip of his gaze.

“Don’t you know him better than that? You’re his fucking assistant, no?”

“Actually, she’s my assistant,” Tom said in a low voice, but Logan didn’t hear.

“Yeah, she got loaded with me,” Kendall said, raising his voice. “That’s because she’s my only friend in this shitstorm of a life.”

Logan turned to Kendall, looking him dead in the eye. “You don’t deserve a life.”

Then, jabbing a finger at you: “And you’re fucking fired.”

Logan turned and walked away. Kendall was still reeling from the blow his father had just delivered. He looked like he was about to fall over from the force of it.

“She doesn’t work for you!” Kendall managed.

“Technically, she works for me,” Tom said, still unnoticed.

“Then you get rid of her,” Logan said to Kendall. “She’s not good for you.”

Logan turned and stalked out of the room. Kendall just stared after him, shaking. Finally, he seemed to snap out of it.

“Come on,” he said to you. You followed as he stormed away, painfully aware of the stares of his family as you left.

“You got the keys?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Get in that car.”

“Jesus, Kendall-“

“Then give them to me. They can say I stole it.”

You didn’t hesitate to toss him the keys. You hopped into the passenger’s seat. Kendall started the car, peeling down the ranch road with red dust glowing in the taillights.

Kendall tore down the straight desert road, headlights cutting through a thick darkness.

“I didn’t want my dad to hurt you.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It’s the worst feeling in the world.”

He was silent as he continued to drive, eyes fixed ahead. Finally he spoke.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. This is my fault.”

You couldn’t argue that, but you also couldn’t blame him. “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Work for me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to gauge if he was serious.

“It’s either that or go back to my dad, begging for a job.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“I know. So I’m rehiring you as my assistant. Actually, I’m promoting you to senior advisor.”

“What does that involve?”

“Getting drunk with me until we both forget the pain.”

You bought a bottle of tequila at a nearby ABC store in the next town, then stopped at the first motel you saw, a cheap but clean place called The Desert Flower. You were both crashing from the cocaine. Kendall’s eyes were bleary and red, his face dark with stubble. He was going down fast. You sat in the car, taking turns with the bottle, unable to even make it to the room.

“I’m sick of wanting to fucking die.”

“Kendall…”

“You heard him, right? He said I don’t deserve a life. That’s how he makes me feel. Every day.”

You heard his voice break. Tears streamed down his face.

“What would it take? For him to smile at me once, to pat me on the fucking back? What do I have to do?”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

He stared at you, and for a moment it looked like his entire world was crashing down around him. You saw the loss playing out behind his eyes as he realized the truth of your words. Then he leaned forward, put his hand on the back of your head, and kissed you.

You didn’t hesitate to respond. Everything was falling apart, but at least you could feel the warmth of him, his searching hands, his desperate mouth. You squeezed his wrist as his hand gripped your thigh. Then you both suddenly pulled back.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He was still holding your hand tightly. You wouldn’t let go. You both caught your breath, reeling from the touch.

“I need to go inside,” he said.

He leaned on your shoulder on the way into the room. When you got inside, he collapsed onto his knees, sobbing. You got down on the floor with him, stroking his back, trying to talk to him. But he didn’t seem to hear. He curled up on the floor, totally unresponsive, rocking himself as he wept.

You didn’t know what to do. The Kendall you knew was suddenly gone. You could only think of one ally who could still help you: Greg.

Need help, you texted.

Where are you?

You sent him the address of the motel. He responded immediately.

I’ll be there as soon as I can.

You finally got Kendall off the floor and onto the bed. He huddled there like a frightened child.

An hour passed. You heard a car pull up and saw headlights flare through the curtains. When you opened the door, Greg was sitting there in a red convertible. You laughed, unable to help it.

Greg got out of the car, looking completely out of place.

“Yeah, I know…” he sighed, looking at the car. “There aren’t many Ubers in the middle of nowhere.”

“Does anyone know?”

“Just Tom. He said he’d cover for me. So we’ll see how that goes.”

He peered past you into the room.

“How’s Kendall?”

“Not good.”

“What about you? You don’t look so good yourself.”

“I just need someone here to make sure one of us doesn’t die.”

“Okay, yeah. We should definitely try and prevent that.”

You moved aside, letting Greg through. Kendall was still curled on the bed, his head tucked into his arms.

You sat beside Greg on the edge of your bed, talking in low voices as you gazed at Kendall.

“What have you guys been doing?”

“A lot of coke and tequila.”

“Wow. So a pretty serious binge, then.”

“I think I’m in over my head.”

You gazed at Kendall, who had withdrawn so far into himself that you didn’t know if he was aware of your presence.

“I thought I could help him,” you said.

“That’s more than anyone else has done for him.”

“Why don’t they try to help him?”

“Honestly, I don’t think his family knows how to see him as a person. They only think of themselves.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing I got fired. I don’t know why I even want to work for them.”

“I frequently ask myself the same question. But even though they kind of suck, I still like them.”

“They’re your family.”

“That’s true.”

Greg looked thoughtful. “Then why do you stick around?”

You gave a slight nod towards Kendall’s sleeping form.

“I want to see him win. Not for anyone else. For himself.”

You couldn’t see it in the darkness, but a tear gathered in the corner of Kendall’s closed eye and slid down the bridge of his nose, then was gone.

Greg slept on the floor between your beds. You gave him half of your pillows and the top sheet of your bed.

Sometime in the night, both Greg and Kendall began to snore lightly. You could feel their resting forms in the darkness, the hum of the air conditioner, the traffic slowly streaming by outside. Cars rumbled in and out of the parking lot. Doors open and shut. Everything moved slow in the late hours of the night, the early morning.

They weren’t your family, but you loved them. You didn’t belong among them, but you had made a place for yourself in their lives. And they had become an inseparable part of yours. You held onto this thought as you waited out the long night.

It was early, and you were just beginning to fall asleep, when you heard vague sounds of movement in the room. You felt someone crawl into the bed with you. It was Kendall. He drew himself close, facing your curled form, mirroring it with his own body. He pressed his forehead against yours and reached pleadingly for your hands. You twined your fingers around his.

“Hey,” he whispered. He sounded as if he had been crying.

“Hey.”

You felt his hands for the first time, stroking them with your fingers. He held tightly to you, drawing himself as close as possible.

“Am I going to be okay?” he rasped.

You put your hand on the back of his head. He was shaking, tears dampening the pillow.

“I promise.”

You held him for a long time, until his breathing calmed and he finally stopped shaking. He never let go of your hands, never moved. Your knees touched, arms intertwined. When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. Neither of you said anything. He stroked your hand with his thumb.

Greg groaned from the floor, and both of you went still, listening. Then you started to giggle.

“Where the fuck am I?” Greg mumbled, rolling over in his sheets, still half asleep.

Kendall snorted, and you shushed him, still trying not to laugh. You could still see tears in his eyes. But he was smiling.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Downfall | Yan! Ayato

yandere Ayato x fem! Reader

Pt. 1

Warnings: general yandere themes, obsessive and possessive thoughts/behaviors, mention of verbal abuse, implied power abuse, mention of blood and vomit, minor character death, stalking, implied threats/past threats, self-harm (nothing major nor was it done in a way that was supposed to cause injury knowingly), broken rips, mention of a one-sided fight. Tell me if I miss anything please.

disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the toxic or dangerous thoughts and behaviors that take place in this piece of fiction. None of these actions and  thoughts should be considered romantic or even normal as they extremely toxic and dangerous. 

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!

Reader used to be a crazy stalker and it bites her in the ass.

A/N: I spent days on this only to end up with 5 pages.

Unedited.

Wordcount: 2588k

 ----

You used to be obsessed with him.

With the way his light blue hair would sway in the wind and bounce with very step he took. The way his eyes would light up and turn into purple gems whenever he saw something he was interested in. The polite smile he would show the people whenever he made one of his rare appearances. The fresh scent of rain that followed him everywhere and left traces of it behind. A handsome young man who held so much power in the palm of his hand yet was treated as a puppet.

You used to be obsessed with him, Kamisato Ayato.

No, to be completely honest, you were obsessed with the idea of him, rather than the real him. Flesh and bones that you couldn’t touch, the voice you barely, if ever, heard, eyes that never looked at you – all of it didn’t cease your longing for the man for a good while. A lovesick fool who let her interest become an obsession over a man she only shared one simple conversation with. If you could even call it that.

It was nothing more than an exchange of words for politeness.

Yet it somehow fueled your curiosity about the man. Maybe it was the thought of a silly romance like ones you’ve bought in the form of light novels. Giggling at the thought of a forbidden romance that would survive no matter what came there way. Desperate for something to distract you from the bleak life you led, you emerged yourself in them. And, unfortunately, after a while, you were a bit too influential.

Reality and fiction started to mix, and before long, you became obsessed with it. With him.

The way you met could be called romantic. But considering what took place afterwards – obsessing over him, becoming his stalker – it wasn’t. It was the start of something painful, dark and twisted. It was the start of your downfall.

You still remember it, sadly – accidentally bumping into him as you sneaked out from your house. You were younger then, young and hardheaded. Still are, but not to the same degree, and certainty not over the same thing. Apparently, he was also sneaking out, if what he said was true. He held a finger up to his lips, prompting you to keep it a sweet little secrete between the two of you. Of course, you agreed – it was a rebellion, in a way.

It made a wildfire grow in you; blooming flowers that couldn’t be kept tamed anymore. It made you feel alive and was like a scene out of a light novel. It distracted you from your jaded day-to-day life.

And you clung onto it like it was your lifeline.

Looking back at it, you supposed that it was normal to feel butterflies futtering away in your chest. He was your first ‘love’, first secret to be kept, first experience that didn’t involve behaving like the perfect daughter. And if it had stopped there, simple daydreams of starting a secret relationship with him without acting on it, it would have been fine. But it didn’t stop there, instead it grew like weeds that were sapping up everything that made you, well, you.

You became a deranged stalker, constantly trying to find ways to get closer to him. To make him notice you, any attention considered good, even if it was disgust You wanted his eyes on you, thoughts full of you – you wanted to haunt like a nightmare that was treated as salvation. Like he was to you.

His downfall, his savior, it didn’t matter – you just wanted to be part of his life. And, well, it was obvious that something was on your mind. That you had changed, like a Yokai had possessed you over night. And it could have been that you wished it was. Something – someone – else to take the blame for you.

But it wasn’t.

Letters and gifts that were addressed to him that should have been ripped apart and burned. Catching a glance of him whenever he made one of his rare public appearances, engraving the sight to memory, his white suit always standing out among dull colors of the crowd. Eyes that held nothing but obsession that belonged to you – it makes you sick. All of your past actions make your stomach churn, shame and embarrassment filling you up like water.

There was more that you did. More extreme things that almost claimed your life:

Attempting to join the Yashiro Commission.

Now, in the present, you question how come you were never arrested for charges of stalking. Of how you weren’t watched like a hawk, making sure you didn’t make any unusual or dangerous movements that could pose a threat. You should have been on a watch list, if not thrown in jail.

It was only later that you would find out that yes, you were watched. You were tracked like prey, the predator waiting for the perfect chance to strike. You didn’t notice the stares back then, didn’t hear the light footsteps that would surround you, only wondering why it felt eerie even during the day. Red flags always look normal when you’re wearing rose-tinted glasses.

Extreme training that left you sore for days, broken limps and black eyes – a sacrifice you were willing to make back then. The Yashiro Commission was looking for new recruits, and despite not having any talent for ninjutsu or combat, you tried your luck. The training program took you in, expecting you to improve at least enough to officially join. But you never did, always lagging behind like a snail racing against a fox.

You weren’t suited for the Yashiro Commission and the Yashiro Commission wasn’t suited for you.

Denial can be a scary thing. It can make someone refuse to see the errors of their ways, continuing to ruin themselves for something that wasn’t even worth a second of their time. And you were full of denial after the first time of failing the test. And the second time that left you with bruises for days, the third time you were knocked out for days. You just kept… failing over and over again

And each and every time, you would beg for another chance, on your hands and knees with your forehead almost touching the ground. They would accept every time, and looking back at it now, you’re not sure if it was because they pitied you or because they were under orders to do so. The second one makes more sense, was more likely, just by the looks they would share with each other – uncertainty that stained their eyes like dye. Your dignity was thin and snapped easily whenever it came to anything that remotely involved that man.

Dignity that slowly but surely came back throughout the years, the less obsessed you became whenever you bothered to think about it. It was three years you spent chasing and stalking Ayato, questioning yourself. Did you really want this? Or did you clung onto something that felt different without real cause? It consumed your thoughts, constantly trying to justify your behavior only to doubt yourself moments after.

The clearer your thoughts became, the more you started to act like your past self – lively, social, friendly. Logical.

And then, the incident that helped you make your final decision.

It was a training exercise that went terribly wrong. An ambush of Treasure Hoarders that singled out the newbies – or least skilled – and lured them away from the main group. But it should have been obvious, from how the wind felt, the extra pair of footsteps that tried to align with yours – suspicious. But you didn’t say anything, thinking it was part of the exercise. Mistake number one.

Mistake number two was when you separated from rest of the group when you heard someone calling for you. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, right? It was a gamble, what you would come across, a gamble you thought was harmless, only to get beaten so had you came out alive with two broken ribs and a black eye. The taste of blood, dirt and vomit engraved itself into your memory, never forgetting it even months after the fact. Even now, sometimes you think you can hear your ribs crack again.

An arrow engulfed with electro, landing straight in the treasure hoarder’s chest, a gloved hand that covered your eyes as a smooth voice told you to rest – Kujou Sara was the one who rescued you. Apparently, her and her trope was in patrol and just happened to overhear the commotion. A miracle? Was it something he planned? You’re not sure.

You’d like to think it was a miracle, that General Kujou wouldn’t listen to a man like him. A snake that coils itself around you, strangling you. Each breath you take could be your last, each sight you see could turn blind. Each step you take could crippled you. Everything you do was noted down as you were followed. You guess that now, he would claim it was for your safety.

Three months spent in bed, being watched over by a doctor, any sort of freedom gone – like you couldn’t be trusted to stay out of trouble. Perhaps it was here, when you finally accepted the fact, you needed to stop that lifestyle. That the ‘love’ you held for Kamisato Ayato was nothing more than a dangerous obsession. You had lost yourself to the void only to be brought out of it by a close encounter with death. It’s laughable.

You didn’t have any close family, living with a grandmother who was emotionally distant. Verbal abuse that would be replaced with a warm meal, never fully apologizing for what she said or did. One of the reasons you drowned yourself in a sea of light novels and friends, which pointed out that you were getting caught too deep in. You brushed off their worries like dust, a tight smile as you objected. Something else you would soon come to regret.

You left the program with nothing but a letter, handing it to the officer in charge. He took it, read it, and begged you stay. Like he was in fear of his promotion being taken away. You had smiled, squatting down to his height as he bowed on the ground. You pat his head, whisper traveling with the wind as you told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And you had left, just like that.

And well, recovery from your mental state was quite the journey. Denial, shame, guilt, laughter and cries – it swallowed you whole. It left you awake late at night, staring at the sky filled with shining stars as everyone else was asleep. It cleared you mind, giving you a second chance at life. Peaceful, it was starting to become peaceful.

It only lasted for two months, however.

Letters you wrote that were returned to you in the dead od night, the gifts you made left in cute little boxes that were tied with the finest of silk. Flowers you didn’t even recognize left in front of your door, your name written on a piece of paper – it disturbed you. Horrified and scared you. Because it meant they remembered, knew and wouldn’t let you forget. You were sure of it.

It was a warning.

And now, back to the present, you got your answer.

--

“Excuse me, Lord Kamisato,” you try to push past him, only for him to stop you with one simple word. You’ve been bumping into him more lately, these days. You thought it was a coincidence the first few times, finding the Yashiro Commissioner buying boba tea or even giving one of his rare speeches. Handling things behind the scenes was usually what he did, staying away from the prying eyes of the public. According to his sister, miss Ayaka, he was never one to like attention.

Only when it comes from you though, it seems.

“Ah, it’s been a while, (name).” A smile that looks a little too sweet, a look in his eyes that sends chills down your spine. A gloved hand reaches up, removing a Sakura petal from your hair. You want to bite those digits off.

“Has it? I remember quite clearly that we saw each other last week,” hiding your frown behind your sleeve as you play coy. It was the only thing you could do, in a situation like this. If you let your fears of the man overtake you, he’ll get cockier, sly even. If you held your head up high, nose pointed away from him, he resorts to meaner plans. So, you are forced to play coy – not too prideful, but enough of it to where it forces him to take a step back.

This game of cat and mouse drives you insane, leaving you to scream into pillows and pull your hair out like a madwoman.

“Ah… yes, of course. But last week could have been the last time we saw each other –,”

“The weather is nice today. We should enjoy it while it lasts. Individually. It’s nicer that way, isn’t it?” You interrupt him, hands clammy as you hide them behind your back. Your smile holds nothing but bitterness that turns his mood the least bit sour.

“Being alone with your thoughts isn’t always a good thing,” Ayato takes another step towards you, light blue hair shining in the sunlight. He looks like an angel. Shame he was closer akin to a devil or demon.

“My thoughts are better company than many others.” The way his eyes narrows lets you know you’re starting to cross a very thin line. Resentment dwells inside you, the longer you look at him the more power the urge to throttle him becomes. But he’s a vision holder, powerful both in terms of strength and politics. He was a lion while you were a rabbit.

He mulls over what to say next. Perhaps a warning or maybe he’ll offer – force – a tea invitation upon you. Something you can’t reject, lest you’ll be followed by the Shumatsuban more intensely once more. Usually, he would have grabbed a hold of you, and ‘politely’ suggest you take his invitation. But you’re currently surrounded by herds of people, some gawking at the sight and others minding their business.

He still has an image to maintain, willingly or not.

“My lady,” he starts off, a placid smile painting his features. It doesn’t reach his eyes or match his tone. “It would be an honor to take a stroll with you. While the day is beautiful, it pales in comparison to you.” Gently, he takes your hand the moment you show it by instinct, bringing up to his lips to deliver a kiss to the back of it.

It takes everything in you to not gag.

“My Lord… this is inappropriate behavior to display in public.” The hairs stand on the back of your neck. Your body is creaming at you to run and hide. You really were a rabbit, a meek and defenseless rabbit ready to be eaten.

Ayato, damn the bastard, offers another smile. Your other hand, still hidden behind your back, clenches. Nails dig into your palm deep enough to draw blood. You want to pull your hand back and slap him for even touching you. You want to scream bloody murder.

“You used to be so loyal to me… if only you still were.”

You were the cause of your own downfall.

 ----

Tag list: @99-nct @lawsfav

@spacegayparty @bubblemintchocolate

@myschevious

[defiantsuggestions]

My parents thought it was okay to tell a toddler that other parents murder their children and if I wasn't careful they would give me to the murderers because I was that unbearable to be around.

Guess what? It's not okay to say that to your child! It was never okay!

And if any of you out there had to deal with something similar? It wasn't okay that it happened to you either!

We should have been treated better!

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Coming Soon...

Summary: Childhood sweethearts, Dean and Y/N, are very much in love with each other. When she accepts a full scholarship to an out-of-state college, she finally gets to leave behind her traumatic childhood and abusive father, but it means leaving Dean behind too.

Over a decade later, Y/N returns to Lawrence, Kansas, and finally tries to heal the only wounds she has left… the psychological and emotional scars her father gave her and the heartbreak she endured by Dean Winchester, the one that got away.

A/N: This story will contain flashbacks and mentions of the physical and verbal abuse of a child. If this is a sensitive subject for you or you might be triggered by this content, please consider whether this story is right for you.

A/N 2: I’ve tagged those who’ve previously asked to be on my tag list, but please, please let me know if you want to be removed for this one. And if you want to be added, just comment, DM, or Ask!

When she told Uncle Bobby she had no intention of returning to Lawrence until her father was gone, he and Jody booked a slot at City Hall to get married and asked her and Dean to be their witnesses. Y/N was delighted to be able to share their special day with them.

Saying goodbye to them was hard, but her goodbye with Dean last night had been so much worse. As she pulled out onto the main road that led out of town, she sighed deeply as her memory flashed back to last night.

Y/N and Dean had spent the whole night together, their true feelings escaping them in the throes of passion. It wasn’t their first time together, but it was the most special, closely followed by the time they took each other’s virginity when they were both sixteen.

Her feelings for Dean ran deep. He’d always owned her heart, and after a night of raw, emotional lovemaking, she knew he always would. Who knew? Maybe one day she’d come back to Lawrence, come back to him. But it wasn’t fair for either of them to live on a maybe.

“Ask me to stay,” Y/N whispered in the darkness of her bedroom. Both of them were naked, sweating, and basking in their afterglows.

“You know I can’t do that, princess. I want to, but I can’t,” he responded, his voice cracking with emotion before he kissed her bare shoulder. Her lip trembled, but she swallowed her tears and rolled over to straddle his waist.

“Then make love to me again, Dean.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek and grinned wildly at the road sign despite her sad emotions. 

“YOU ARE NOW LEAVING LAWRENCE”

Tag list: @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @candy-coated-misery0731 @iprobablyshipit91 @twinkleinadiamondsky @mrsjenniferwinchester @spnwoman

[crossxxbones]

Don't forget who you're talking to.

@pleinsdemuses

"Yeah? Who'm I talking to? Cap's girlfriend? Mary fuckin' Sunshine? The woman who used to be Sinthea Schmidt?" He was smiling but there was nothing pleasant about it as he tried to goad her into some sort of reaction. He used to spend every spare minute he could with Sin, but two days in a safehouse with her after escaping the Raft, and all he could think about was his hands around her throat. She was driving him up the fuckin' wall with this new act of hers, and he never could resist needling her back, wanting to see how far he could push her before she snapped.

He wanted to prove--to himself, to her--that she was still herself, just as violent and chaotic and unpredictable as always. "The old you would be sick if you could see yourself. When you gonna get it through your head that he ain't here? I'm the one who yanked yer ass outta prison. I'm the one puttin' up with your shit. You wanna go back to Captain Prettyboy, then get the fuck out. When he gift wraps you for SHIELD a second time, you're gonna be shit outta luck, 'cause I won't be there. And guess what, girl. He won't be either."

[cartoonfangirl1218]

I’ll admit I was inspired by @pandoratheprocrasticreator‘s engaging Blight family post but I was thinking more about how the twins and their father have almost no relationship and I also just want Alador to sort of acknowledge that he’s not a good parent all of sudden, he wasn’t a good parent before so. . Yeah this is what I came up.  Context: I imagine even though they all live with Alador now, the twins sort of go off and do their own thing most of the time, skip dinner and whatnot while Amity has prime bonding time with her dad. And partly it’s because they’re  disinterested and also, they’re looking for their own jobs so they can live on their own. Until Amity finds out. 

Em: We’re getting our own apartment. We’re gonna be 18 soon, we’re going to move anyway so why not start now?

Amity: But, everything’s changed. But-you-Dad just started trying. You won’t ever see him. You hardly see him now.  Ed: Look, Mittens, it’s great that you have a relationship with Dad but we. . we don’t really care. We went this long without his input in our lives and legally, we’re not going to need one so- 

Amity: But he wants to have a relationship! He asks you to share meals all the time.  Ed: I don’t see him knocking down the door. It’s you asking for him.  Em: Besides, he spends all his free time with you.

Amity: But-

Em: It’s not about you. We’re not jealous. Even if we leave the house, we’ll still see each other. Our apartment has a guest room, you’ll live with us!

Amity: But Dad-Dad’s trying. He’s a good Dad, and he wants to make up for before.  Ed: Have you’ve noticed he hasn’t apologized for putting us against each other? He probably still thinks he was right to do that. Em: Amity, we’re serious. We’re not interested. And don’t say he’ll apologize, it doesn’t count if you have to tell him to do it.  Ed: And it doesn’t count if he has to and not because he knows he was wrong. And when if he does that, what next? We’re going to hang out like nothings wrong and he was good this whole time?  Face it, Mittens, he hasn’t changed that much. 

But after a talk with Luz and believing people can change, Amity lets the plans slip to Alador to encourage him to talk. She comes home to him forbidding the twins from moving. 

Ed: We’re going to be legal in a few months! Let’s make it easier and let us go now.  Alador: Don’t you want to be a family?

Ed: Sure, I do. But you don’t. You just want to be with your favorite child.  Alador: I don’t have a favorite.  Ed: Yeah, right. Then why do you spend all your time with her? It’s because of the abominations and inventions. She’s the only one you care about.  Alador: I didn’t want to push you into spending time with me. I was giving you space.  Ed: Bullshit! When the genius Alador Blight wants something, he doesn’t stop till gets it. Patience and inventions and reinvention until he gets it. Goes into every part of your life.  If you don’t care to have a relationship, you wouldn’t try. That’s what’s happening here.  Alador: You’re not trying either!

Ed: I shouldn’t have to! I have spent my whole life trying and you made me feel like a failure the whole time.  “Illusions aren’t as difficult to master as abominations.”

 “I’m not using my brain.”  If I didn’t understand your work right away, I’m stupid. If I didn’t care about your work, I was lazy. Wasting my time. You know, you’re the one that first said I was too dependent on Em. “A sign of slow growth” you said. It was a liability and I should be stronger than that. A true Blight. If I tried hard enough, I wouldn’t be such a burden.  You and Mom- “You don’t want to be a burden, Edric.” “You don’t want to be a failure to be abandoned while your sisters make something of themselves.” “If you stopped playing tricks, you might be more.” 

Combining illusions and potions is not nothing. But to you it is. Everything and everyone is beneath you because it’s not how you would do it. It’s not your work so it’s useless.  I’m useless.  And I don’t want to feel that way. I’m done with you. I don’t care. . I don’t want to care about your opinion anymore so I’m putting myself first. 

I shouldn’t have to do all the work when you’re the adult. You’re my Dad, I shouldn’t need to try harder. This is all on you.”  Emira enters and is quickly (and loudly) updated on the situation.  Emira(under her breath) I take one night off and everything goes to hell.  Alador: Emira, be reasonable, I’m not- Em: Okay, here’s the thing, Al. I agree with Edric. Let’s start with how you act like everything not related to your work, let’s say the illusions we’ve been training most of our lives for, is a waste of your time and intellect.

Ed: I already covered that.  Em: Oh? Then let’s discuss how you think you’re a good father now. That you can just make up the neglect like it never happened. Like you don’t recognize that you didn’t just dismiss us, you hurt us.  You can’t put everything on Mom. You didn’t just stand by all the time. You agreed with her! You thought it was right. You still do. You haven’t apologized, yiu don’t think to because it was okay. It was okay to turn us against each other so we’d try to do better, to compete against each other for your attention.  It was okay to give Edric and Amity anxiety attacks over any potential failure because it makes them stronger in the long run.  You made us earn everything-earn your respect, earn your pride and earn your love. Do you not see how screwed up that is?

Ed: You didn’t care about what we were doing or our illusion competitions or tests. Not unless we dropped from an A+ to an A, then you yelled about how we’re ruining the family legacy and the company’s reputation. You only brought up our accomplishments to tear Amity down. Or to warn us not to slip up. Anything else we did, you were a ghost.  Em: And I’m sure this will be hard for you to believe. But if I had to choose a parent I’d rather “hang out” with—it wouldn’t be you!

Mom may be a controlling, manipulative narcissist but at least, she thought more of us than you do.  Like when I broke up with my girlfriend, and you asked what I expected. “Illusions won’t keep her for long, at some point she would have gone looking for stimulating conversation.”  Newsflash, just because you’re uninterested when I talk doesn’t mean I’m boring to others.  At least Mom thinks I’m too good for my exes and I can do better. At least she saw some advantage in illusions. At least she thought we were worth something even though it was for a role we had no desire to fulfill. 

If you want to be a better parent, try to act like you think were special and not that we’re too boring and superficial for you to talk to.  It’s just hard to believe that you really want to try this “good Dad” idea. All your actions and inactions have made it clear that you have no respect for us as witches worthy of notice. You don’t know us and now you want to play Dad.  Why should you even get that chance?  You never gave us second chances!  “Life doesn’t give second chances when you fail.” Remember saying that?  So no, I don’t want to live with you and pretend to be happy to stick it to Mom or whatever.  Alador: I-I- do you hate me that much?  Em: No. that’s the worst part. The stupid, childish part of me still loves you because you’re my father. But. .I don’t like you. I don’t respect you and I don’t trust you and your newfound desire to bond.

[kindred-sims]

Part 2/2

TW: Emotional abuse, verbal abuse

"How dare I? How dare you! I'm a guest in your home, is this how you would treat your guests?" Sterling scoffed at Caleb. "Really, I would've thought that even simple farm folk could raise their children with at least some manners..."

"...Jo, go put Carrie back to bed. I don't want her here for this."

Caleb spoke both sternly and plainly, keeping his angered gaze focused on his father-in-law as Jo numbly walked out of the room with their daughter in tow. He hadn't been proud for yelling in front of the two of them as he had, but his anger had been kindled, and he could no longer force himself to remain as pleasant as he'd tried to be all evening.

As far as he was concerned, Mr. Blythe had crossed a very strong limit with his words. And that was a limit that no man should ever dare cross as long as a Wakefield was around.

"If you must know Mr. Blythe, my parents did raise me to have good manners, and they certainly raised me to be gracious," He tried to keep his voice level, but his ire was too hard to disguise, and it was taking everything in him to not begin shouting again.

"But they also taught me to put my family first above anything else, and that's what I'm doing now. For that, I'm not going to let you stand around and continue belittling my wife any longer--"

"I'm sorry, your wife?" The other man let out a harsh chuckle. "Forgive me for saying so, but I believe she's been my daughter longer than she's been your wife. I'll treat her however the hell I please, and I'll be damned if some oafish farmer is going to tell me what to do!"

"Papa, that's enough!"

Try as she might, Jo hadn't been able to bring herself to leave Caleb alone with her father, and had swiftly returned after ensuring that Carrie was settled. She didn't know why, but overhearing his insults toward Caleb -- combined with the nasty things he had to say about Carrie, had caused something inside of her to snap, and she knew she couldn't stay quiet anymore.

She didn't want to either.

For nearly twenty-one years she'd been dealing with his cruelty, and she was done playing the timid creature.

"Oh, you stay out of this, girl, this doesn't concern you--"

"No. I think it does," She spoke firmly, stepping between Caleb and her father. "Papa, my whole life you've been treating me as if I'm an inconvenience to you, and you've never once given me any indication that you love me or actually care for me. And for what reason? Because I'm not the son you wanted?"

"Christ, Josephine, I've heard all I want to hear--"

"I'm not finished yet," Jo kept on, both her voice and body trembling something terrible. She was terrified, but she couldn't stop. "I could've handled it, you know? If you only came here to insult me further, but you didn't. You've not only insulted me, but you deliberately chose to insult both my husband and child, and I refuse. I refuse to let you do those things any longer."

"Like hell you can refuse me, I'm your goddamn father! I'm the only family you have left you ungrateful brat! What do you think your mother would say, or your grandmother?"

"I'm not a child anymore, Papa!"

Jo surprised even herself with how loud she became, but she didn't back down. So many years of hurt, so many years of pain all came spilling out in that one sentence, and by God did it feel so freeing.

"That isn't going to work with me anymore, it won't. You're not my family, you have never been my family," she continued "I have Caleb and Carrie now, I don't need anything from you. I don't want anything else."

"Well I--"

"And furthermore, if I do have a son someday, I will never tell you. Because I'd rather my children have no grandfather at all versus one who is a cruel, selfish excuse of a man."

Sterling looked taken aback by all these words, staring at Jo like he was trying to figure out where his shy, meek daughter had gone. Maybe this was who she really was, maybe he'd never known her at all.

Either way, it was nothing Jo would lose sleep over.

Still seated on the couch, Cora was the next to say something, her voice a hushed whisper.

"Sterling, I think its best we leave now..."

He didn't respond, stood silently for about another minute, before finally grumbling under his breath and following his wife out of the parlor. He glanced back one more time as they departed, a searing fire burning in his expression.

"I hope you're satisfied, Josephine, truly. I thought marrying you off to this simpleton might humble your selfish ways, but I can see now that that was only a fool's dream," he said cruelly, but Jo refused to look at him, keeping her back turned. By now, her resolve had crumbled, and she refused to let him see her cry. Not as he had so many other times before.

"You'll get what you want, mark my words. You couldn't pay me to come back to this pigsty, even if I wanted to. You won't be seeing me, or a cent of your inheritance for that matter. I have every intention to have everything transferred to Edward as soon as he turns eighteen. At least I know the family fortune will be in more...competent hands."

"Oh keep your damn money, Mr. Blythe, we certainly don't need it." Caleb hissed, refusing to take his eyes off either of the Blythes until they'd left the house. He turned to Jo, and it only took one glance at her face for him to pull her into a tight embrace.

"Its over now, love. They're gone, you can cry," He held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder, her entire body shuddering. "I've got you, its alright..."

"God, he's so horrible. He's so horrible, Caleb, how dare he say such awful things!" Her voice was muffled, yet audible enough to know that it was breaking. "About you, about Carrie...what did she do to him besides exist? She's only a baby, she didn't do anything, she couldn't have..."

His entire shoulder soon became doused in her tears, but Caleb didn't care. Only kept holding her, until he was sure she was going to be okay. That she was going to feel safe again. Because while he may be an oafish farmer who couldn't read or write all that well, he knew how to care.

He knew how to love.

Because he loved Jo more than her father could ever claim to. He'd meant every word of his wedding vows the day he'd recited them, and he had every intention to uphold them for as long as the Good Lord would allow him.

[bleach-your-panties]

💔♡☠︎  M̸H̸A̸ 𝕭𝖆𝖉 𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘☠︎♡💔

💔𝖇𝖞 @𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱-𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻-𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼

RELEASE DATE: October 1st, 2023

RELEASE SCHEDULE: Every Sunday, Friday, and Saturday in October, alongside Kinktober 2023. Multiple uploads on a single day will be HIGHLY possible, as well as extension into November.

Inspired by: haikyuu!! bad boyfriends: the series, by @martellprincess-writes

series theme: bad - wale ft. tiara thomas

others:    bad romance - lady gaga

             the hills - the weeknd 

        wicked games - the weeknd

 memories back then - t.i. ft.  b.o.b and kendrick lamar

—--

Is it bad, that, I never made love? 

No, I never did it, but I sure know how to fuck

—--

Author's Note: As someone who has been in two different abusive relationships, I feel like I can provide an in-depth perspective on different types of traits that I saw and experienced from the people that I was in these relationships with. This series is MEANT to be triggering, but also to be entertaining and most importantly, informational about what to be wary of while dating or pursuing a potential partner. In no way do I condone or support any of the actions taken by the characters, and in some instances, by Reader-chan. You will most likely get triggered while reading this, as will I while writing it. Still, I come to you as an advocate and as a survivor, to show that you CAN break free from the toxic cycle of abuse. You are beautiful and you are strong. I love you all and thank you for your continued support on this platform. 

Warnings: 21+ DARK CONTENT WARNING. MDNI. Female reader unless otherwise stated. This series will contain dark content, explicit sexual content, as well as toxic relationships written in-depth. There will be all types of abuse written explicitly in this series, as well as other extremely triggering subjects. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised. No one under 18 should be on my page anyway, but if you are under 18, exit this post NOW. If you message me complaints about something I warned you about beforehand, you will be blocked. Also, don't message me about misrepresenting your favs. This is not meant to show them in a positive light. Thank you.

*Completed/uploaded fics will be highlighted in purple.

—--------

I can't promise that I'll be good to you

Because I had some issues

I won't commit

No, not having it

But at least I can admit

That I'll be bad, no, to you (to you)

Yeah, I'll be good in bed, but I'll be bad to you

—--------

💟🔏Masterlist'̸Schedule☣️💟:

💔10.01: Y̶o̶ S̶h̶i̶n̶d̶o̶u̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠ ⒫⒜⒯⒣⒪⒧⒪⒢⒤⒞⒜⒧ ⒧⒤⒜⒭

🖤10.06: T̶o̶u̶y̶a̶ T̶o̶d̶o̶r̶o̶k̶i̶ _-̶⒯⒣⒠⒡⒤⒩⒜⒩⒞⒤⒜⒧⒜⒝⒰⒮⒠⒭

💔10.07: T̶e̶n̶y̶a̶ I̶i̶d̶a̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒞⒪⒩⒯⒭⒪⒧⒧⒤⒩⒢⒪⒩⒠

🖤10.08: E̶i̶i̶j̶i̶r̶o̶u̶ K̶i̶r̶i̶s̶h̶i̶m̶a̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒯⒲⒪-⒡⒜⒞⒠⒟⒪⒩⒠

💔10.13⭐️: S̶e̶i̶j̶i̶ S̶h̶i̶s̶h̶i̶k̶u̶r̶a̶ -̶⒯⒣⒠⒢⒜⒮⒧⒤⒢⒣⒯⒠⒭,

K̶a̶t̶s̶u̶k̶i̶ B̶a̶k̶u̶g̶o̶u̶ -̶

⒯⒣⒠⒞⒪⒨⒫⒠⒯⒤⒯⒪⒭

🖤10.14: S̶en̶ K̶a̶i̶b̶a̶r̶a̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒨⒜⒩⒤⒫⒰⒧⒜⒯⒪⒭

💔10.15: I̶n̶a̶s̶a̶ Y̶o̶a̶r̶a̶s̶h̶i̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒨⒤⒮⒪⒢⒴⒩⒤⒮⒯⒤⒞⒪⒩⒠

🖤10.20: T̶e̶t̶s̶u̶t̶e̶t̶s̶u̶ T̶e̶t̶s̶u̶t̶e̶t̶s̶u̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒣⒴⒫⒠⒭⒮⒠⒳⒰⒜⒧⒪⒩⒠

💔10.21: S̶h̶i̶h̶a̶i̶ K̶u̶r̶o̶i̶r̶o̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒲⒠⒜⒦-⒨⒤⒩⒟⒠⒟⒪⒩⒠

🖤10.22: S̶h̶o̶t̶o̶ T̶o̶d̶o̶r̶o̶k̶i̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒰⒩⒨⒪⒯⒤⒱⒜⒯⒠⒟⒪⒩⒠

💔10.27: H̶i̶r̶y̶u̶u̶ R̶i̶n̶ -̶⒯⒣⒠⒝⒠⒧⒤⒯⒯⒧⒠⒭

🖤10.28: F̶u̶m̶i̶k̶a̶g̶e̶ T̶o̶k̶o̶y̶a̶m̶i̶ -̶⒯⒣⒠⒤⒩⒮⒠⒞⒰⒭⒠⒪⒩⒠

💔10.29: H̶i̶t̶o̶s̶h̶i̶ S̶h̶i̶n̶s̶o̶u̶ -̶⒯⒣⒠⒰⒩⒟⒠⒭⒞⒪⒱⒠⒭⒧⒪⒱⒠⒭

🖤10.31⭐️: Y̶o̶s̶e̶t̶s̶u̶ A̶w̶a̶s̶e̶ -⒯⒣⒠⒧⒠⒠⒞⒣, I̶t̶e̶j̶i̶r̶o̶ T̶o̶t̶e̶k̶i̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒰⒩⒮⒰⒫⒫⒪⒭⒯⒤⒱⒠⒪⒩⒠

💔11.05: H̶a̶n̶t̶a̶ S̶e̶r̶o̶ -̶⒯⒣⒠⒩⒪⒩⒞⒪⒨⒤⒯⒯⒜⒧⒪⒩⒠

🖤11.10: M̶e̶z̶o̶u̶ S̶h̶o̶j̶i̶-̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒞⒧⒜⒮⒮⒤⒞⒜⒝⒰⒮⒠⒭

💔11.11: M̶a̶s̶h̶i̶r̶a̶o̶ O̶j̶i̶r̶o̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒭⒜⒢⒠⒭

🖤11.12: T̶a̶m̶a̶k̶i̶ A̶m̶a̶j̶i̶k̶i̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒯⒜⒦⒠⒩⒪⒩⒠

💔11.17: M̶i̶r̶i̶o̶ T̶o̶g̶a̶t̶a̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒩⒜⒭⒞⒤⒮⒮⒤⒮⒯

🖤11.18: K̶o̶s̶e̶i̶ T̶s̶u̶b̶u̶r̶a̶b̶a̶ -̶ ⒯⒣⒠⒠⒡⒡⒠⒨⒤⒩⒜⒯⒠⒪⒩⒠

[saltymongoose]

Hi, are your requests still open?? Or I'll even pay you to write something too.

If they are, can I request fic with Deimos, Hank, 2B, and Sanford protecting and comforting a FTM(not transitioned yet) reader that is their partner. They protect him from an abusive family member? If that's not okay then maybe just comforting them on a really really bad dysphoria day?

I'm dealing with major family issues rn on top of my HEDS/POTS flair ups and I'm just breaking down and need some comfort from my boys that would def hug me and kiss me and tell me im okay and tell my family members to "Fuck off cuz I am a real man." I'm trying to draw some art too... but I have major art block art.. but your writing Is amazing and inspirational. I always look forward to everything you do. You are my hero and I wish I could write like you. Thank you for everything you do and please take care of yourself! Drink and eat pls!!❤️❤️❤️

Also this is the first time I'm asking something and I'm to nervous to come of anon so I guess you could call me...Kai? Thanks and sorry if this is too much yiu can ignore it

I'm sorry to hear about everything you've been going through Kai, it's beyond awful to have family members who're so unsupportive and damaging. :( I'd be more than happy to provide some comfort and protection from the boys for you, and as always, free of charge. <3 (Thank you so so much for your kind words as well, they're awfully sweet of you to say and reading them made me pretty emotional haha. I'm glad you like my work so much, it's readers like yourself that make writing so fulfilling for me, so thank you for that as well. And please take care of yourself too, of course. :)) 💕

[Part 1] They Protect a Transmasc!Reader from their Abusive Family ft. Hank & Sanford

(TW: Transphobia, Verbal Abuse, Violence (they're not yandere but still, it's Madcom), ft. Transmasc!Reader) //- {PART 2 HERE <3} -//

- [HANK J. WIMBLETON] -

Anyone who knows of your significance to Hank would realize that it’s not exactly a good idea to try anything against you, whether it be trying to make you uncomfortable or attacking you physically.

Your partner is the most wanted man in Nevada, and he has absolutely no patience when it comes to anyone or anything threatening you, period. It doesn’t matter if it’s some random grunt on the street, or some agent Doc insists he works with, or even if they’re an Employer. If they hurt you in any way, shape, or form, he’s paying them back for it tenfold.

It’s only right since you’re likely a target simply for your relationship with him and he considers it his “job” to protect the people he loves. And by that, just you, really. He can’t even remember the names of the other SQ members he works with 90% of the time, so you’re it for him. Although this just means all of his protective instincts are centered on a single person, which if anything would be more of a deterrent. (For mildly intelligent people, at least.)

However, while he never expected your family of all groups to be added to his “blacklist”, he isn’t averse to going after them the same way he does all your other persecutors. Hank genuinely couldn’t care less about their blood relation with you or any history you have with them; he solves nearly all his problems with violence anyway, so another set of bodies means very little to him in the long run. (Bear in mind, he won’t outright kill them in front of you, you don’t need to see that.)

Though because you’d generally prefer not to have to deal with organizing a funeral or explaining why your significant other gunned down your family (to your other family members who you'd prefer not to speak to), you made him swear not to kill them. A shame since they more than deserved it to him, but you're one of the few people Hank actually listens to, so he'll go along with it.

However, you never told him that he couldn't be violent with his protectiveness, even if they didn't end up dead.

So when he happens to be accompanying you to your family’s place to fetch some of your things and someone decides to make a little unwelcome comment about you (something about how you’re “never gonna be a real man”, whatever that means), he bristles when he hears the words. The look of discomfort and sadness on your face immediately drives him to physically threaten them; he's quick to invade the offending family member's space, anger coursing through his veins as a hand reaches for one of his knives.

It doesn’t take long for whoever made the comment to be thrown to their knees, a blade at their throat before you’re able to stop him. He's always been impulsive, and what they've just done to you would be enough to warrant murder if it were from anyone else. (They should consider themselves lucky you were more merciful than he was.)

He can only think of the look of your frowning visage as he grabs their jaw harshly, almost driving the knife into them as they jolt in his grasp. He usually doesn't care about insults, but if they're against you and targeting something so intrinsic to who you are, it's enough to piss him off immensely on your behalf, to say the least.

"Newsflash, asshole. Nobody asked for your dogshit opinion," he hisses, jostling your terrified family member before forcefully turning them to look in your direction. "See him? He's a real man. If you're too stupid to understand that, that's on you. But if you say anything like that to my boyfriend again, I'll fucking kill you, understand, dipshit?"

You know it's more of a bluff than a genuine promise, given the fact that you've been over this with him before. (Or at least you think so.) You ignore your family member's pleading for Hank to let them go, as well as the other people in the house who've come to watch, still feeling hurt at their comment. Having your partner there made it better, but it still didn't lessen the sting of the words themselves.

Hank notices this of course and will drop the offending individual to the floor (paying no mind to how their skull painfully hits the concrete below them, whoops) so he can pick you up protectively and remove you from the situation entirely. You let him, of course, silently eyeing your family from over his bicep as you snuggle into his arms, relaxing a little for once that evening.

The complete juxtaposition in Hank's behavior the moment you two exit through the front door is honestly amusing to you in retrospect, but in your sickened feelings at what just happened you don't notice it. He holds you tighter to himself as he walks, leaning down to press his forehead to yours and nuzzle into your temple. You told him once that his purring was comforting for you, so he'll do it here, and loudly too. He's relieved when he feels you sink into his grasp more at all his affection, but he can tell what just happened is still weighing on you.

Despite excelling at dealing with matters physically, Hank is very inept at anything concerning emotions (and to his credit, he knows it very well). He'll still try though since you need the encouragement and he hates seeing that despondent look on you. (He also just loves you and wants you to be alright, but that's hardly anything new.)

"You okay?" He rasps lowly, almost whispering to you, and you give a strained half smile in response. He tilts his head in concern and you sigh, reaching up to cup his cheek and watching as he leans into your hand absentmindedly.

"Not really, no, that was…a lot. I will be though, eventually…Thanks for that, by the way," you say, voice small as you rest your head on his chest. It’s funny, you were only there for forty-five minutes and you’re exhausted. This only makes you doubly grateful for your partner being willing to carry you and comfort you physically, even when you don’t feel like talking.

You could feel him nod resolutely against your hand, the only reply you’ll get from him on this matter. His silence is fine with you; you were so close that you didn’t need words to understand his view anyway. Especially not with how he makes sure to hold you as close to him as possible on the way back, wrapping you up tightly in his arms as if to protect you from the rest of the world as he takes you back home, where you’ll be safe from everything else.

Hank’s type of care is a strange one. Filled with gentle touches and harsh protectiveness, Nevada’s most infamous mass murderer is nothing if not soft around you. You were a point of vulnerability for him, but one that he welcomed with open arms. He’d rather die than let something happen to you (and he’d be very willing to if it came down t it). Even if the threat isn’t incredibly violent, his main priority is your well-being, whether that be your physical or mental health. Perhaps this is why you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms, content that he’d keep you safe as you went home. He wouldn’t let anything happen to you and you knew it. After all, he loves you beyond belief, just as you do him.

- [SANFORD] -

As one of the few people in Nevada who actually has a semi-intact family in his life, Sanford knows the true value of having close relationships with your parents and/or siblings. However, he realizes that your family is also the people who can cause you the most suffering. They know every little button to press to get a reaction, and it's only elevated to a more painful level if they don’t accept you for who you truly are.

In all likelihood, you’ve confided to him before about your familial situation, and what he heard both depressed and angered him. How anyone could be so awful to you is just beyond him; you’re one of the nicest people he’s had the pleasure of coming across and he wouldn’t trade you for everything, why would your family do you so much harm purposefully?

The feeling of disgust only festers with each time you tell him about another one of your family's abusive actions towards you, and he honestly considers just suggesting you cut them off. They don't deserve to have someone like you around them, just as you don't deserve to be mistreated for something as simple as your gender identity. You don't need to justify who you are to them, and the fact that they badger you about it and degrade you is enough to make his blood boil.

You probably don't see your family that often anyway, cause once you two got together he was fully willing to just get a place with you away from anywhere having to do with them. The further the better. (The last thing he wanted to happen was for them to encounter you when you went out for groceries or ran errands. More distance meant more safety from them, after all.)

It's not that he wants to isolate you or anything like that, and really you're free to do what you want, he just doesn't want to run the risk of them hurting you more than they have already. As such, he’s hesitant to even drive you to visit them, to be completely honest. You don’t deserve to be put in a potentially abusive situation, but if you have to be around your family for whatever reason, he insists on accompanying you.

He holds your hand the entire way there, throwing you soft looks to gauge your mood and running a thumb over your knuckles when he sees your nervous posturing. He hopes that his reassurance will help in some way, even if he's also dreading encountering your family.

He's tense at your side the moment you both walk through the door to your family's home, putting himself between you and any family members as he oversees your interactions. Most would feel threatened by his posturing; it’d be quite obvious that he’s acting as sort of a sentinel for you, and having someone like him as a protector should be a deterrent to any awful behavior. Lest they end up suffering some harsh consequences for their actions.

But of course, this doesn’t stop some people. Perhaps they just walked in and saw you, thinking you were on your own and taking it as an opportunity to slew some abuse at you, completely oblivious to the fact that your partner was just across the room. Or maybe they were just ignorant enough to believe your partner wouldn’t protect you from them.

However, they’ll notice and realize the reality of the situation soon enough. It’s impossible not to when they open their mouth to make a disparaging comment about you and are met with a painfully tight grip on their shoulder and the broad form of your boyfriend looming over them.

You'll notice that their abusive remark is cut off by a sharp squeak, and turn to see them looking almost sickly with fear at your boyfriend. The same whose glare seems to darken when they have the nerve to send a pleading glance towards you to make him stop, as if they're not the one who tried to verbally attack you in the first place.

No matter, he'll helpfully twist them around so he's all they see instead. (Quickly too, since he hated the way you seemed to freeze when they tried to make eye contact with you.) The perpetrator is terrified to their core since they know very well about who he is, but the short apologies they try to stammer out don't quell any of Sanford's anger at them. It's not him they should be apologizing to.

He'd even consider forcing them to right that moment if he couldn't read you as well as he does. He knows from your shaky motions and quick glances back at him that having any prolonged contact with them would probably just risk upsetting you more, and besides, what kind of a partner would he be if he brought his boyfriend's abuser closer to him?

Despite this, he won't let go of them. He's almost like a guard dog that's latched onto someone, unwilling to let them move a mere inch away as you go about your business. While you're distracted, he'll even lean down to get uncomfortably close to your family member to give them a bit of a warning, silently delighting in how they jump at his sudden movements.

"You aren't gonna say another fucking word to him, understand?" He hisses, "None of this shit about you not understanding that he's a man - cause that's what he is, dumbass. You can fuck off if you think I'll just let you insult him like that, or I'll make you wish you knew better."

They nod frantically, and he gives them a sardonic, if not outright threatening grin. Just in time too, as you turn back to them with some personal belongings gathered in your arms. You don't look at your family member when you approach, but Sanford's quick to disregard them as well once you're a meter or two from them. (He doesn't want you to have to be too close to them, anyway).

He gives their shoulder one last squeeze, threatening to pierce their skin with his claws before he lets go and returns to your side. You find it slightly amusing that he insists on wiping his hand off on his pants before he holds yours again, and as you exit the building he makes a joke about not wanting any "filth" to touch you. It makes you smile a bit, which relieves him.

He has a thoughtful look on his face as he helps you into his truck, one he always seems to get whenever the topic of your family comes up. You give him a few questioning glances, silently prodding at what's eating away at him as he seems to mull over something for a moment. He then turns to you, giving you a warm smile.

“I’m really proud of you, you know? I don't know how I'd be if my family pulled something like that with me," he remarks, giving you a playful glare when you shrug and avert your eyes, already beginning to formulate some sort of retort to his praise.

"I mean, I didn't do very much-"

"Not this time, I guess, at least not physically. But you've dealt with their shit for years, so I'd say you're stronger than you think you are." He states simply, a tone of finality in his words. Under no circumstance would he let you downplay or disregard your own feelings and role in this; so what if you didn't want to get in their face as he would? Physical confrontations aren't everything, especially when he's half sure those pigheaded people in your family wouldn't change with or without them. The point was that you're perfect just as you are, and you don't need some dumbasses who don't know anything to make you doubt that.

You understand as much when he leans over to give you a quick kiss on your temple, whispering so before leaving another peck on your cheek and pulling back. For that simple moment, your anxiety is quelled. Funny, how something as common as Sanford giving you affection could calm you down so much. The love he has for you is pure and nearly overwhelming sometimes; it fills you with a warmth so comforting, and a feeling of gentle reassurance you don't know how you went without before. And you knew it was the same for him.

For now, though, Sanford thinks he's got a bit of a solution to this issue (if you could call it one). He's been thinking about it for a while, but now that he's seen firsthand the quality (or lack thereof) of people in your family, he doesn't think it's going too fast. At least, he hopes you won't think so either.

Your attention is caught again when he mutters your name, and you look over to see him staring down at the dashboard, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he nervously clears his throat. It's weird to see him so nervous, but it's cute; it reminds you of when you first started dating and he was so anxious about being with someone seriously, least of all someone he admired so much.

"I know this might be too fast, but..you could, well, "join" my family, if you want. My mom's been asking about you, and they just really want to meet you, to be honest. Probably because of how I don't shut up about you," he laughs a little awkwardly, and you smile at how bashful he looks, brow quirking at the question. "They're not...like yours, and I know they won't screw with you like that. So..would you want to?" He looks hopeful as he eyes you, and you can see the slightest bit of apprehension in the way he shifts his hands against the wheel as he waits for your answer.

You hum in thought, genuinely considering the offer. Sanford's without a doubt the nicest guy you've ever met, and you don't think his family would be spoken about so highly by him if they weren't the same. Besides, there's no harm in meeting your boyfriend's family. However, there's a little something about the way he worded it that made you curious.

"Yeah, I'm down for that. All this talk about me joining your family is pre-tty interesting though, babe," you begin, a teasing lilt to your voice as you lean over the console to perch your chin on his shoulder. "You thinking about proposing?"

He sputters, face going red as you chuckle at him. He's quick to make a recovery though, nudging his elbow at you as he shakes his head to himself (he can't hide his own grin, despite this). You feel relaxed as you lean back into your seat, grateful for the distraction in light of everything else that happened that day.

Although, you don't make it entirely back to your seat before Sanford reaches out for your hand again. His larger hand returns to hold yours just as it was on the way to your family's place, and you can see a slight blush tinge his cheeks when you turn yours over to interlace your fingers. He only has a single real response to your teasing, but it's enough to make you double-take.

"That depends, would you say yes?"