#tw physical abuse mentioned

[prayantis]

Job offer

Manhunt/oc au writing!

“What do you want us to do with the guy boss?” A male voice questioned as he tightening ropes onto wrists.

“Oh I’ll have my time with them soon enough, but I need you two to head over to Starkweather’s mansion for now.” A deep raspy voice replied with.

“The guy’s still awake though.”

“Just knock them out, I’m not gonna play with them now.”

A man besides the rope tighter raised his gun before bashing the end of the gun into the head of the kidnapped victim.

Red blood dropped from the head onto the eyebrow of the victim, their head whirled around as their eyes blinked in and out before finally, shutting close.

”Why me?” Veltun thought

It was a regular shift at Darkwoods Penitentiary.

Veltun checked in with a patient. They left, checked in with another one, another and another one.

Fighting never stops in this place does it? Veltun thought. They learned later into the shift that there had been a riot just before they clocked in. Another mess the earlier people left for the midnight shift.

Work went on. For the next several hours.

Veltun leaned against the wall of the halls after checking in with a patient before another coworker came along. “Working hard?” The coworker asked, seeing how exhausted the other seemed. They adjusted their stance. “Yeah.” They replied.

“Have you taken a break yet?”

“Uh no, not yet.”

“Well, you should probably head over to one of the open on-call rooms.”

“Yeah I think I’ll do that right now. Thanks”

“Of course.” The coworker said before heading down the hall.

Veltun made their way down the hallways to an on-call room. Opening the door and locking it. They lay down on their back, not realizing how tensed and sore it was from the hours working. Their back relaxed as they got comfortable in the bed. Closing their eyes and soon drifting off to sleep.

A loud BANG was heard.

Veltun got startled by the noise. Some muffled noises could be heard. "Jesus," Veltun said before looking at their wristwatch. It had been an hour since they came into the room. They pondered whether or not to get up and check the noises. He decided. "I'll get up in 30." They groaned, turned away from the door, and dragged the blanket up to their neck.

"Hey, you!" a figure yelled. "Wake up!"

Veltun's eyes slowly opened to see a masked man, sitting on their lap with the figure's eyes blankly staring at them. They shifted to the other side, trying to get away from the figure.

The figure gave a large toothy grin, revealing its tooth gap.

“Aw, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” The figure cooed.

The figure brought up its right arm which had been hidden in the shadows, unveiling a gun.

“I’m Mr. Nasty.”

He stroked Veltun’s face with his gun. “Oh?” His eyes met the hot blood that still poured from their head. He leaned in more to see the blood, using his gun on Veltun’s cheek to push their face to the side.

They could feel their heart steadily grew into louder beats. His breathing stiffened as Mr. Nasty itched forward to their face.

Suddenly, Veltun’s cheek felt wet. His eyes shifted to his cheek.

Mr. Nasty was taking a long lick from the chin to the forehead where the blood crept out of. Veltun whimpered. They tried pulling away only for the man’s free hand to harshly fix his face back into place. It seemingly went on forever.

Until it didn’t.

Mr. Nasty pulled away and looked out. Releasing his hold and gun on Veltun allowing for the nurse to rest their face.

“What was that about?”

Mr. Nasty’s eyes met with Veltun’s. He clicked his tongue, seemingly in thought.

“I’ve had a rough night.”

Veltun scoffed, “Join the club.”

“Funny to say that to a man with a gun.”

“Oh like I haven’t had a gun pulled on me. This is Carcer City! You act like this isn’t the norm.” 

“Didn’t know letting the city become corrupt would let it’s people lose their no fear of men with guns.”

“Yeah well it does.”

Mr. Nasty let out a deep sigh. “My pals died tonight you know. While you were sleeping actually.” He chuckled, “you just always manage to sleep through the danger huh?”

“I guess.” They shifted around in the chair. “So uh, what’s up with you on my lap?”

“Don’t know, maybe it’s cause I thought you looked cute.” He stroked the gun against their cheek. “I really like your fucked up scar.” He added on.

“Well I can’t take all the credit for it, you’d have to thank my mother.”

Mr. Nasty let out a laugh. “What’s this? A little humor before you died?”

“Hmm, I guess.” They spoke, “my last moments should be happy, or something like that. Think they’ll let me into heaven cause I made you piss yourself laughing?”

“What you think you won’t make it into heaven?”

“Uh yeah no. With all the shit I had to deal with back in Darkwood I’m definitely not going to heaven. I mean, when I was leaving the place I stomped on all my shitty bosses before ACTUALLY leaving the hellhole.”

“Oh yeah I saw that on the cameras, that was really funny. That’s when I knew I had to meet you, you know.” Mr. Nasty commented. Veltun blushed at that comment. “Nice to know I have a fan. You’re a..” he checked Mr. Nasty out.

Mr. Nasty, of course wore a latex mask with a heart shaped zipper at the counter of the mouth. A leather trench coat continued the shiny look the man had, not stopped by his seemingly skin tight latex suit the man wore underneath. Whatever shoes he wore was hidden in the darkness.

“… shiny man.” Veltun noted.

“I try.”

“So.” Veltun spoke out, “are you gonna kill me? Cause if you are this is a good time for me.”

“Well now I have to wait for a bad time.” He laughed. “But, uh, I don’t think I’ll kill you, at least for now. I’m very vulnerable.”

The nurse glanced at the gun the man still held, “very.”

“In fact, since I have… many positions open, I think I’ll make you, a doctor.”

“Great! I can start right away!” Veltun chimed. Mr. Nasty stood and untied the restraints on the doctor. “Oh don’t worry, you will.” They weren’t sure what that meant. But, they decided that’d be a problem for future Veltun to deal with. 

[faramirsonofgondor]

“Gabe isn’t abusive in the show” ARE WE WATCHING THE SAME SHOW???

Gabe is literally introduced by yelling at someone who, when Percy apologizes for Gabe’s behavior, says “I’m walking out, you’re walking in. I should be apologizing to you.” And then Percy reluctantly and slowly walks inside. And Gabe immediately starts in on him (calling him “Genius” in a mocking tone) as Percy repeatedly expresses that he just wants to talk to his mom ( and Gabe’s subsequent “Is that all you have to say to me?”) The fact that he answered Sally’s phone and acted like he had every right to do so?? The way he shows begrudging respect when thinks Percy was violent towards another kid at school?? The “you would think that because you’re a child, you don’t understand things…” The way he gets annoyed that Percy wants to know where his mother is. The “what are we doing Percy? every time! wow…wow!” in such a condescending tone??? Percy’s immediate alarm when Sally calls Gabe’s name. Gabe immediately yelling at Sally, not knowing anything about Percy’s life (he didn’t even know his school’s name despite literally just talking to them), the way he makes Sally negotiate to use the car (“Why am I okay with this?” “Make sure they put the hot peppers on my sandwich please!”) the way he acts like his tone of voice shouldn’t matter to Sally because he said “please” the aggressive behavior even after he concedes to letting them use the car (getting in Percy’s face, pointing his finger at him, etc.), like???

Just because he isn’t depicted as smacking the shit out of them doesn’t mean he isn’t abusive. He is constantly yelling, even when it’s not necessary, and is overall condescending and rude towards both Percy and Sally. He has a positive reaction towards the idea of Percy being violent, which means that he probably has no problems getting violent himself, even if it isn’t show on screen. The fact that he is constantly trying to redirect Percy and Sally’s decision to make himself the center of it (he is trying to goad Percy into an argument when he gets kicked out of school and overall keeps trying to redirect the conversation back to himself, he acts like he is allowed to breach Sally and Percy’s privacy but then makes Sally get his permission to drive somewhere, and even then she has to give him something in return). Like he is very clearly controlling and emotionally/financially abusive (he acts like Sally’s things are his despite not having a job and likely blowing through their money). It also seems like he tries to diminish Percy’s self esteem, possibly to keep him and Sally under his thumb (it’s a common tactic used by abusers to make the victims feel like the need to depend on the abuser). Overall, just because he might not be physically abusing them, doesn’t mean he isn’t abusing them and doesn’t mean his actions aren’t harmful. Furthermore, just because he isn’t violent on screen doesn’t mean he isn’t violent.

[dykedvonte]

Curly not immediately punishing Jimmy for assaulting Anya is something I don’t think a lot of people are viewing in the complex context for Curly as the superior to both of them and closest confidante they had.

Like I am in no way saying he didn’t under react or fail Anya by not being harsh or direct with Jimmy but it really is the case that he really couldn’t. Imagine being stuck in such a confined space with very little areas to genuinely hold someone if they commit a crime. It’s not like this was an event that occurred before they departed or that they have easy communication with The Pony Express to ask for how to proceed when something like this arises. Not to mention, Jimmy’s relative power in relation to Anya as the co-pilot and second in command, he has the knowledge and access to do something to her had Curly directly punished him in this setting.

They were also Curly’s friends. It’s not just the case of him mediating something between his subordinates but people he is personally invested in don’t want to see spiral further in Anya’s case while also not wanting believe his friend go that bad in Jimmy’s actions. They were both suicidal and Curly putting Jimmy’s stability first is both out of bias but also the fact he’s aware at some level Jimmy is a danger to himself and others if not constantly placated. Combined with the fact he was in denial or just not piecing together what Anya said it’s hard to say what he buying time for and what he had treat as urgent. This isn’t even saying he doesn’t care about Anya but he’s not going jump to the worst conclusions about his friends even if part of him acknowledges the evidence saying so. It’s a complicated thing but he’s still human and needed to process it on top of trying to keep a ship that already took on a lot of water from further sinking, metaphorically.

I just personally think that while Curly failed Anya, it was a scenario where there wasn’t much he could do to the best thing by her safely and like Jimmy, we are underestimating what a good leader would do in a very fragile and tense situation like he was in. By the time he may have been ready and had a plan, things were much too late.

[adragonsfriend]

Padme was not a Witness

I will never join the “Padmé was stupid to go to Mustafar” parade—she had valid reason to believe in the possibility of Anakin’s redemption—but there’s something awful in the fact that she didn’t have to witness either of his massacres.

Obi-Wan and Yoda walk past the bodies of their people—of their people’s children. Bail Organa goes to the temple and sees a kid get shot down trying to escape (more clones than Anakin, but still).

Padme hears about the second massacre after sitting in her apartment while the Temple was on fire. She’s told about them in vague terms. “I killed them like animals,” “he killed younglings,” She has a touch of denial when she goes to Mustafar partly because of her belief in Anakin, but partly because—I think—the Tuskan Massacre was never fully real to her. She understands it intellectually of course, but violence on that scale is difficult to conceptualise without seeing it, especially if it’s easier to just let it go. If she’d seen the bodies? Or seen Anakin kill them? She watched that one refugee kid die slowly, not at all violently, when she was working with the refugee organisation, and it affected her for the rest of her life. It is not a lack of caring on Padmé’s part that’s the problem.

Imagine being Obi-Wan listening to Padme saying “there’s still good in him,” after walking through the Temple, seeing the lightsaber marks on knights and children alike—not even to mention seeing her get strangled. It sounds not only wild, but honestly deeply offensive on more levels than one (besides the obvious issues it’s another, “train the boy,” prioritise Anakin over everything moment, except this time Obi-wan’s entire world has been torn apart, rather than just losing his Master)

If Padmé had actually been a witness to Anakin’s violence? If it was made present and visceral to her?

I think her opinions and her actions would’ve been different.

Thematically, it is crucial that when Luke goes to the second Death Star, he is under no illusions about who Anakin is or what he’s done, and in his most desperate moment he chooses to ask Anakin for help anyway. Padmé goes to him still a bit in denial, still a bit convinced things can return to how they once were. When she starts to push at the illusion, Anakin accuses her of betraying him and strangles her to shut her up, attempting to preserve the illusion (the difference between Anakin’s state at the time of his confrontations with Padmé and Luke is a whole other, very important topic). In part, her illusion allows Anakin to believe he can preserve the past (to be clear—he is the only one responsible for the choice to strangle her; Padme being imperfect is not an excuse for domestic abuse).

Side note, but if anyone is not sufficiently freaked out by Anakin strangling Padmé, it's important to know that strangulation is one of the flashing red warnings that physical abuse is doing to turn deadly, very, very quickly.

Luke’s complete and honest knowledge of Anakin’s worst self means there is nothing for Anakin to lose except his son, exactly as he is. No illusions, no wonderful past, not even any good memories together. Just his son.

To me, that’s one of several reasons (both thematic and logistical) why Padmé’s plea fails where Luke’s succeeds. None of those reasons has anything to do with her being stupid to go in the first place.

(There are some wonderful fanfics out there that show Padmé actually making her disapproval about the Tuskan massacre—both despite and because of her love—actively known during their marriage, and I think that interpretation of her is a stronger character than ROTS gives us, and more in line with what we’re shown in the first movie)

[uncanny-tranny]

The first mistake I see people make is assuming there are completely "nonviolent" ways to be transphobic. It seems like some people conceptualize transphobia as being either violent (which is always physical in some way) or nonviolent (which is "simple" emotional, verbal, or psychological abuse)

It seems, also, that people presume that when somebody has "noble" intentions for their transphobia - "I'm trying to save you!" for instance - it is suddenly nonviolent. Consider, though, how a transphobe would "save" a trans person. Would they allow that person to exist unadulterated (including being able to transition), or would they prefer to put them through conversion therapy, or revoke their access to bodily autonomy, or force them to have children, or anything that will prevent them from transition or even identifying as trans or otherwise tying them down with the obligations that prevent transition or identifying as trans?

There is no true "nonviolent" way to be transphobic because being transphobic relies on denying one the ability to autonomy and personhood. Fundamentally, even the transphobes who "want to save us" only do so in their own self-interest to save them from the horror of knowing that more people than they are alive and thriving.

[erinwantstowrite]

hey erin! i just remembered that the next chapter is going to include a bunch of heavy stuff from peter's past and i wanted to clarify how you'd explain it. is it going to be in flashbacks or just peter explaining? or a little bit of both where some scenes include flashback and some don't? also sorry if this is annoying but if you do end up doing flashbacks would you mind saying the triggers that could come up in those scenes? i'm usually fine reading characters explain things that happen to them but flashbacks end up being a bit much for me.

not annoying at all!! i was going to make a post about this anyway. i made one ages ago so it was time to do another one!

if there is a flashback (which, at the time of writing this, i don't really want to write a flashback), it will NOT be depicting the abuse as it happens. it would be about the times in between. i'm not really comfortable writing the scenes where it happened/the actions of it. this goes for both sexual abuse and physical abuse, but peter won't be talking about the sexual abuse right now. he's really not prepared for that conversation and dick is the first one who would even know about the physical abuse. (tony and the others have their suspicions, yeah, but they could never prove it and peter wouldn't open up about it.)

right now, it's just peter and dick talking about it. like sitting down together and talking about it through the game of 21 questions that they forgot to finish. triggers will be put at the beginning of the chapter as always, and if i miss anything (ANYTHING) please please please tell me. i usually triple check this part and add as many possible ones as i can, but i am imperfect

[punkstylerecovery]

Generally speaking, your parents often owe you a lot more than you're taught to believe. A lot of people are raised to believe that parents do not really owe you that much beyond food and shelter and that's not true. In fact, you can have parents who give you food, shelter, patience and kindness and STILL deserve more from them.

By being your parents, they've accepted a very special relationship and amount of responsibility for you. Do you know how many people I know whose parents have never genuinely apologized to them? How many people’s parents physically hurt them, how many people’s parents mock their insecurities, how many people’s parents don’t care for their children’s health, how many parents make their children (intentionally or otherwise) want to die? 

And so many people don’t give a fuck. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not treat us to respect our parents in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t deserve shit. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not teach us to “respect our parents” in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t really deserve shit. It varies but its so common that lots of people don’t even think twice about it. 

But children DO deserve more than they’re generally given. So much more! And so many things that are literally just abusive are considered normal parenting all around the world and that’s vile, especially considering children are the most severely affected by this and have no “societal power” to wield to put a stop to it beyond what they can scramble together through a combination of sheer determination, shock value, strength and fucking luck. 

Not to sound radical, but I think we owe children a fuck ton more than they’re being given now and I think people need to learn so much more about abuse and how that ties into the common underplaying of what we’re owed in parent/child relationships. 

[andtheclockstruckthirteen]

I’ve seen a few works in this fandom on ao3 that portray Ursa as a worse parent than Ozai and as ungrateful for everything she had as a princess and then Fire Lady becuase it was a position of privilege that most others in the Fire Nation were too poor for yada yada

I just want to remind people that while she might not have been a great parent to Azula and while she was fortunate to not have to worry about being poor, Ozai is canonically physically and mentally abusive and Ursa was literally forced into a non-consensual marriage under threat of harm and it can be assumed (depending on your preferences, because that would be in headcanon territory not canon as of right now) that the act of producing Zuko and Azula was also non-consensual (through coersion at the very least because even if she participated in it or wasn't expressly fighting back, it's not like she realistically would've had much of a choice)???

And her not having to worry about being poor was replaced by her having to worry about living under an extremely powerful abuser that she physically cannot get away from because he is the highest level of authority in the country under the firelord and crown prince? nevermind that i think Azulon actually arranged the marriage himself? (that might be fanon i will admit, I haven't read the comics and by the sounds of it, I don't really want to see my favs get nerfed like that)

Like Ozai is an abuser from the royal family in an imperialist, war-mongering country??? She was a random girl from a Fire Nation village unfortunate enough to be related to the past fire avatar?

we don't even know if she was a neglectful parent to Azula for sure because families living under powerful abusers have a lot of nuace that people refuse to acknowledge (and who are incredibly fortunate themselves not to understand), especially when that child starts resembling their abuser (and I'm not talking about having anger issues, I'm talking about Azula making fun of Zuko for their father being ordered by their grandfather to comit filicide and their father agreed). but i digress.

even if she was emotionally neglectful of Azula, she would still be a better parent than Ozai who LITERALLY MELTED HALF HIS SON'S FACE OFF AS HE BEGGED FOR MERCY AS A 13 YEAR OLD

in what world is emotion neglect more severe than a murder attempt??? like all abuse is bad 100% but demonising the other parent as horrible and ignoring the parent who tried to murder their own child multiple times in canon??? that's some top-tier victim blaming (and woman-hating, considering I don't see Ozai getting the same treatment for emotionally neglecting Zuko in the same fucking work) right there.

[rockgodklav]

@/firstclassattorney didn't hit you or anything as a kid riiiiiiiight

hes vague on what "disciplining" you as a kid meant and I'm worried abt you now

“..Kristoph is a reasonable man, ja; he, thus, doesn’t do anything without reason to.”

[OOC: HELP ?? KIJI (THE KRISTOPH MOD) AND I WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS A COUPLE HOURS AGO??? FOR REFERENCE:

But yes, Kristoph, in our interpretation, is physically abusive to some degree towards Klavier.]

@firstclassattorney

[anti-endo-safe-space]

This is gonna make me probably sound kinda dumb, but what is narc abuse? Why is it so problematic? / genuine question

Hey no worries!

Narc abuse is basically saying that someone was abusive BECAUSE they had Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). A disorder itself is not abusive. That's like saying there's depression abuse because the person who abused them had depression.

NPD is a highly misunderstood disorder. Most people you hear will say that pwNPD (people with NPD) are evil or abusive when they went through abuse themselves, that's what led to the disorder.

And some people will say "well I'm not talking about pwNPD but narcissists" and, let me say this clearly, being a narcists is having NPD. You can be selfish and manipulative and NOT be a pwNPD. Your ex is not one just because she cheated on you Dave, she was just an ass. NPD is not just being full of yourself, a lot of times pwNPD hate themselves or parts of them do. Obviously that's not all but. (Dave is not a real person, I'm sorry if there is a Dave reading this, I picked a random guy name).

Basically, it's people who were abused and instead of labeling it what it actually was (physical, mental, emotional, sexual, whatever it was) and want to demonize an already demonized disorder.

You will notice there are some anti endos who believe in narc abuse, they refuse to listen to those of us with the disorder.

Also also also. Narc is a word that pwNPD ONLY want pwNPD to use seeing as how it is frequently considered a slur like the r slur. Please do not use the word narc (unless your calling someone a narc as in they sold you out for something and even then, we recommend changing the spelling a bit.

[ask-adamsapple66]

What happened in the Garden with Lilith?

Adam sighs: Okay, so when Lilith was first created and I was told she was my wife and we were to have kids as you know, obviously free will wasn't a thing yet so I thought that I wanted what the angels wanted and tried to get her to help me with everything from naming things to having kids. She didn't like any of it so I gave her space thinking she just needed time to adjust but that pissed her off too. Nothing I did made her happy.

Adam: One day I wanted her to give an honest to God try at one of the jobs we had. All I fucking wanted her to do was name a flower and she hauled off and slapped me in the face. To say I was shocked would have been an understatement, because abuse wasn't even a thing at this point in time I didn't know what it was. That was the first time and she eventually ended up naming that flower after herself. The Lily.

Adam: After that she was more verbally abusive, telling me how much she hated me, how she wished I looked different, could be different, just fucking putting me down anyway you can think of. The physical abuse got worse too but it all happened when no one was around. I think the worst she did was blacken my eye. I was so afraid of her at this point.

Adam: So, the angels were breathing down our necks to have at least one baby by now and I didn't want to have sex with her anymore. Couldn't even pretend to want to. So I was very surprised when she came to me saying we should try and get it over with to get the angels off of our backs.

Adam: I flat out told her no. I may not have known what abuse was but I knew what she was doing was not right. Which that pissed her off

Adam: So later that night I went to sleep under my favorite tree. I woke up in the middle of the night to her tying me up with vines tightly, I remember actually losing some feeling in my arms. She....... Fuck this part is harder to talk about.

Adam: She worked my dick until I was hard and forced herself on me. She covered my mouth with her hand so no one could hear me......... She said that if I wouldn't willingly give her a baby to make the angels stop hounding her then she would take it for herself....... This happened like 5 or 6 times because she never got pregnant.

Adam: And because she never did she would blame me saying I'm defective and that it was my fault.

Adam: I finally came to the idea of telling Luicfer about what was going on between us, he had been such a good comfort and distraction from her. But she must have known somehow I was working up the courage to tell him because she went to him first and made herself the victim and said I did all those things to her.

Adam: Which kickstarted their relationship and I...... Was so fucking heart broken to see him kiss her in our spot..... And to have him give her everything he promised me...... Because she lied.

Adam: Not long after that Eve was created from my rib. You guys know the rest.

Adam: I think...... I think I need to lay down now.....

@the-king-of-hell-66-6

[catsockpuppet]

ETHAN’S SCARS!

@luzxii (because you’ve asked me about their scars before and this is a much more detailed explanation,), @facelessthefreak, @cursedthing , @batzdites

BACK SCAR:

these small scratches came from when ethan was around 15 when a group of friends planned to hang out at a small, closed off lake. the area was surrounded by a chainlink fence, one most people just jumped. ethan, having a small fear of heights, decided to crawl through a gap in the fence instead. this backfired however, because they got caught on the metal, tearing open their skin and leaving a permanent mark.

KNEE SCAR:

this scar was a bit simpler, ethan slipped off a few rocks when they were up north visiting aaron’s parents and scraped off a pretty large chunk of skin. eth was 16, turning 17 when this happened.

FACE SCAR:

ethan got this one from a, pretty nasty fight in highschool. they were 16, freshly moved from massachusetts where they'd grown up with their mother. unfortunately for ethan, being new meant they didn't know to avoid a few, specific people, which led to these people doing what assholes do best. shit talk. after a particularly nasty rumor reached ethan's ears, they'd had enough. they stormed up to their 'friend' and, without hesitation, punched her as hard as they could. breaking her nose and starting a full on fight with her as a result. turns out she had a pocket knife on her and, yeah.

SHOULDER SCAR:

PHYSICAL ABUSE WARNING //

when ethan was around 14, living with their mother and stepfather, their stepfather got,, extremely upset. it was the fourth of july and, something, something ethan never even learned, upset him. he grabbed a firework- one that'd been lit -and grabbed ethan's arm. driving the firework into their skin. they had to go to the ER, and the whole situation was explained away as a firework mishap. as ethan's fault for being 'irresponsible'.

// END OF WARNING

MISC SCARS:

you may have noticed the general scratches all over their body (excluding the scars on their thighs, those i'm not going to touch on). most of these scars were from general incidents throughout their life. fights in middle and highschool, accidentally cutting themselves with a kitchen knife, sometimes simply falling or tripping over something sharp.

[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.

next

_____

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.

[jokerislandgirl32]

✍️ + Zach Varmitech + "For you? Anything."

Something sweet for him and you!

M0th, *sobbing*, M0th, *sobbing*, I finally did it, after 2 years I finally wrote this prompt!  In response to this post.

The fic is called…..For you, Anything. Very original, right?

I’m back with this one shot that is actually a piece from my larger Wild Kratts Professor AU. Info on the AU can be found in the post below! Our by searching for this tag: #college professor wv au. The story is much larger, and I hope to post the entire story at some point, but for now I’ll give you this! 

Summary

In an alternate universe where all the Wild Kratts characters are college professors, Zach Varmitech is a grumpy Chemistry professor. He spends his days teaching lackluster students and enduring the antics of the Kratt Brothers whose offices he’s sandwiched between. To make matters worse he’s acquired a teacher’s pet who just won’t leave him alone. Violet Tyler is a kind and intelligent student who follows him around like a lost puppy. Zach tries to ignore his growing feelings for her, but one chance event changes everything... 

Warnings

The warnings to note for this piece are mild to explicit language, Professor x student relationship (both of legal age), kissing, referenced inappropriate thoughts. The big warning is abuse/implied abuse, and references to past abuse/toxic relationship. Namely verbal abuse and mental abuse are described, with physical abuse implied. The scene itself is not graphic, no one is physically harmed, but it is present, so be warned. 

Story Links

Selfship Taglist Below Cut!

@sound-traveller

@crunch-crunch-eat-a-bunch

@superherokisser

@bitchywitchheart

@3qu1us-main

@fomybeloved

@alastorswifee

@skyliv

@creativegenius22

@genderqueer-bithing

@repony1234

@mailiow

@celestetheseaunicorn

@barnesncavill

@mayixxxmoon

@gui-mauves

@evander2511

@bat-anon

@bejeweled-wahlberg

@mouschirambles

@espresso-ships

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

[sundewhasaudhd]

Context, this is while Wilbur’s on his “self isolation arc”.

TW: (implied) mentions of suicide, (implied) mentions of physical abuse

Sad crime bois scene:

W: Hey Tommy, thanks for coming.

T: You’re welcome? Why wouldn’t I come? You’re making it sound like I’m coming to a press conference or something.

T: Hey, are you okay?

W: Tommy, I-I don’t want you to see me again

T: W-wha

W: I don’t really trust myself around you anymore

T: W-what the hell are you talking about?

W: I’m just gonna hurt you again, like in Pogtopia, like what Ghostbur did in Exile, hell you wouldn’t have even been in Exile if it wasn’t for me!

T: And you think leaving me again won’t hurt me?!

W: It’ll hurt far less than constantly being around me! And besides, if I ever… if it ever… gets to… that point, you’d be hurt by it the most and I don’t have you to suffer like that.

T: Well it might not get to that point if you have people who can help you through it!

W: Tommy-

T: Wilbur I’m not letting you leave me all alone again!

W: TOMMY! I’m telling you to stop coming here, don’t try to see me, don’t try to stay in contact with me, in fact, just pretend that Dream never made the horrendous mistake of reviving me!

T:…No

W: What?

T: I said no, Wilbur! As much as you want me to, I’m not letting you make yourself miserable just because you think you’ll hurt me! I’ve been hurt far worst before! However you think you’ll hurt me, I’ll be fine! Nothing you can do will-

W: TOMMYINNIT! *grabs him by the bandanna (exile flashbacks, GO!)*

W: Tommy I-I’m so sorry. I-

T: Fine, you want me to leave?! I’LL FUCKING LEAVE!

IF YOU LIKE MY SCRIPTS, PLEASE REBLOG :3

[lrosenerds]

AU where Wen Qing is Wei Wuxian's unofficial physical therapist (he couldn't afford one otherwise). Most recently messed up in a motorcycle accident, he also has various old injuries from being a teenage hooligan.

So Wei Wuxian is complaining to Jiang Cheng in public somewhere, like a café or a dining hall, like, "Wen Qing is so mean to me! I'm so sore! Look, is my shoulder bruised? It feels bruised."

And Jiang Cheng says something snarky and dismissive, like, "You deserve this."

And Lan Wangji overhears only parts of this conversation and comes to his own alarming conclusions.

So the next day Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian that he has something very important to talk to him about. He sounds so serious that Wei Wuxian is like, "Sure, buddy. Your place?"

Wei Wuxian doesn't know what to expect, but definitely not for Lan Wangji to haltingly but determinedly start talking about how Wei Wuxian deserves to be safe, and it's okay to ask for help, and men in relationships can be abused by women partners, too, and it's important not to be ashamed and to utilize the resources available.

He pushes a bunch of pamphlets across the table at Wei Wuxian and adds earnestly, "I know your family situation is complicated, so if you need somewhere to go you can stay with me."

And Wei Wuxian is so stunned and horrified that Lan Wanghi thinks Wen Qing is his abusive girlfriend, but also so, so happy that Lan Wangji cares so much about him! He brought pamphlets and everything!!

And when Lan Wangji explains that he overheard Wei Wuxian talking to Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian starts laughing and explains, "No no no, Wen Qing is my physical therapist, she isn't abusing me, I'm just a crybaby whiner! We live together but we're definitely not dating!!"

And before Lan Wangji can get too embarrassed Wei Wuxian calms down and says, "But like hey, I'm so touched you care about me and wanted to help me, like even if you kind of hate me you're still such a good person."

Cue Lan Wangji's, "I've never hated you, I've criticized your behavior in the past because you put yourself in danger and get hurt."

And of course they start dating soon, and when Lan Wangji finally meets Wen Qing he brings her favorite food as apology, and Wen Qing forgives him. (His cooking is really good. And also she's secretly-not-so-secretly glad that Wei Wuxian has such a good person to take care of him and keep him safe and happy.)

(Anyway this is what happens when I'm bored at physical therapy I guess lol)