Andre x Reader (Angst/fluff)

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This was a request from one, Afife_Nurbanu_Sultan, I hope you like it, I tried my best.

Enjoy folks

TW: !!!There is slight mentions of death, suicide, non-con, and other really dark topics, if any of these things bother you, it might be best to skip this chapter/story. (18+)!!!

I am not good at angsty fluff, angst in general I think? but I think I did okay here, again there is slight hints to dark topics in this chapter, do not read if even a slight nod to dark topics will upset you. I also rushed it a bit, but I hope its okay...

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You hated what you did. You had too, your family demanded it. You married a greedy older man, he was so cruel. You were forced to wear dresses with long sleeves and scarfs, even in the summer from all the bruises he gave you. Then the redcoats moved into New York. You had so hoped they might arrest your husband as a spy or something to get him out of your life. You could run away, but to where? You had no money, and they would just bring you back to him if you were caught or asked for help. You heard rumors his first wife might have been murdered by him in rage and he payed off the judge, his second wife killed herself. His third mysteriously drowned in the bath in their room. Should you take the same fait as his wives? Would you be murdered? Or finally...end it all...

You brushed the idea aside and made your way out the door and into the street to begin your way to the shops. You needed cloth to make a dress and pillows. You kept your eyes to the ground most of the time, you didn't really like looking at people, or anything really. You arrived at the shop to purchase the fabric you needed. You opened the door and bumped into a tall redcoat, "I am so sorry sir." you almost flinched and broke down crying.

"It is no problem, I should be the one that is sorry for bumping into a lady."

His voiced sounded kind, you looked up to see a handsome man with a small braid behind his ear. A gentle smile. He moved out of the way to let you in. "It...thank you, Sir."

"I do hope I bump into you again." He then walked away. There was a softness in his eyes. You wanted to look at him again, and those eyes, that smile.

You quickly purchased the fabric and cloth and exited the shop and made your way home. You opened the door to see your husband in a drunken rage, yelling at his desk. You figured you leave him to it. "Is that my wife I hear?" his voice boomed, shaking your ribcage. "Yes, my love." you said with obvious shakiness in your voice. "Look at this..." he quickly charged at you and pinned you against the wall. You clutched the fabrics and cloths to your chest as protection, as if fabric would save you. He held the paper to your face. "We are loosing money."

"I am so sorry, my love. I had no clue."

"NO CLUE!" he then punched the wall next to your head. "No more buying shit we don't need. You buy things again, I will make you pay me back. Understood?"

"Yes..." you took a gulp, you were shaking too much, "Yes, my love."

He then let you go and crashed onto the sofa, you ran to your room. You sat on the edge of the bed and began to cry from all the fear that rushed threw your body. The last time he said that, the payment...the payment...was sex...never again...never again...you would just leave the house, no more buying anything...just walking around the city. You had to escape but how? How? You had no money, no where to go. If you get caught they would just return you to him, he would be even more angry.

You ran into your room and locked the door behind you. You crashed onto your bed and laid back onto it and looked up at the ceiling. Dark thoughts began to cloud your mind and there was nothing else inside. Your pressed your hands to your eyes, trying to turn your focus onto something else. You then lifted your hands, palms facing the ceiling, then you rotate your arms, your wrists facing you, you pull down one sleeve, bruises from the last time he grabbed you, on the other wrist, cuts, a series of cuts. You pull your sleeves back up and then rolled over to your side. You pulled a pillow towards your chest. You were inspired to make pillow cases and dresses, but now that inspiration was gone. You clutched the pillow tightly, then that man at the shops crossed your mind. Why was he crossing your mind? 

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