TW: Past Child Abuse, Past Suicide attempt, PTSD, Past Rape/Non-Con, small mention of vomit.
Credit to Auburn Red for the idea of Jennifer abusing Stuart and Farkle, go read her series 'The Minkaid'.
Farkle having attempted suicide in the past is from her stories 'The Lives of Geniuses' and 'Unhappy In Its Own Way'.
Like she's so amazing and those stories are how I fangirled myself into a panic attack from a fanfic for the first time. And it was the 2nd worst fangirl panic attack I've ever had. It would be the worst if not for with the worst, I almost threw up. Key world almost. And that was from an episode of Lab Rats.
Their relationship was unconventional, not to mention taboo, but it worked for them. She was an Omega, Stuart was an alpha, and Farkle had a rare mutation that meant that he was both an alpha and an omega. They saved her from dying a terrible death two years ago, though sometimes it felt like only months, no matter how many times she scrubbed her skin raw or was scented by her alphas.
She could smell the blood. Her blood. The imaginary copper scent made her nauseous. Combined with the depths of her nightmares, it brought up the acid from her stomach. Someone always held her hair and rubbed her back. Whether it was Stuart or Farkle, or even both of them, she never knew.
She was so small, her tiny body easily dwarfed by Farkle, let alone Stuart's large body. She curled into whoever it was comforting her. She identified them by scent as Stuart, his strong scent of spices and motor oil with a hint of the rubber coating used on wires filling her nostrils. Her wrapped his arms around her, scooping her up into his lap as he peppered kisses all over her forehead and neck. He was careful not go to go near her bonding gland. They weren't mated yet, even though with how close they were it was like they were already mated. They wanted to make sure she was ready, even if they had no choice but to help her through her heats.
Once she has fallen asleep, Stuart scooped up all 105 pounds of her, carrying her back to their bedroom where Farkle was waiting. Her settled her between them, tucking the blanket tight against her. Farkle ran his hands though her hair, getting rid of the slight tangles and twisting it into a simple braid. She blinked at him, waking up a bit. "Go back to sleep." He whispered, inadvertently releasing pheromones to try and calm her down. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling his interesting mixed scent as he and his father tried to calm her down.
Farkle rubbed her back, knowing that she needed her rest as her heat would be coming on soon. They knew because she was starting to lose her appetite so that her body could use the energy saved from not digesting food towards preparing itself to carry a child if one of them would get her pregnant. But she wasn't ready for that, and she might not even be healthy enough for it either.
Only once they were sure that she was sleeping soundly did Farkle and Stuart drift off to sleep. Farkle stayed awake for longer than his father, just thinking. He knew what she was going though, but she had it way worse than him. She still had it worse than him. She who shall not be named was mostly verbally abusive. It had only gotten physical a handful of times. He only had two scars, going up his arms from when he tried to kill himself when he was 13. Breana had so many scars, and before him and his father found her when they were 15, she had almost died many times. He traced the scar on her forehead above her left eyebrow. Farkle swallowed as he thought of the bullet wound on her left shoulder. she had been fucking shot at. That wasn't even the worse thing. She had a scar running from her right kidney to a few inches above her pelvis. She still had damage to her internal organs from the wound that caused it.
Farkle held Breana tight as he fell asleep, even though he knew that it wouldn't protect either of them from the nightmares. He felt her stir, holding on to him just as tight before she settled back down.
The dark dampness engulfed the whole basement, worsening the dreariness of their captivity. She shivered, leaning against her twin brother, Danny. His brown hair was caked with blood from the wound on his head, but he didn't do anything but hold her close, trying in vain to protect her. But despite his efforts, they would still get back to them. She sighed, wincing in pain from her broken ribs. Her super hearing picked up the footsteps long before they came closer, helping her prepare for the worst. The men were cruel, only feeding them once a week, if that. They were lucky to survive, even if they did take care of each other. They did whatever they could to survive, even if it met joining in a union that was disgusting to others, but normal for them. The footsteps grew closer, sending a chill down her spine. Danny held her tighter, trying not to hurt her. Two of the men walked into the small room. One was holding a tray of stale bread and unclean water. He slide the tray over to them, while the other began to grab Danny. She screamed, begging them to take her instead. But they didn't listen. And she never saw him again.
She knew that she would get sick if she drank the water, so she didn't touch it. She picked at the bread, eating a few crumbs at most. It was hard and chewy, lacking flavor. Between the night terrors and the nausea, she couldn't sleep. She just stayed awake staring blankly at the ceiling until the men came back in the cell again. She was grabbed before before shoved back to the floor, her body being manipulated so that her ass was in the air with her hands pressed against the ground. Her underwear was ripped off, a freezing hand holding her hips in place as she was penetrated dry. She couldn't hold in her scream of pain, though she was growled out and soon gagged by another cock forcing it's way into her mouth. She knew all too well not to attempt to bite it, as that would just make it worse. She tried not to gag too much as it went down her throat. It was unpleasant, but it provided a distraction to the burning friction of the other penis inside her. She knew that her hips were going to be bruised by the end of it.
Farkle and Stuart were woken up by a scream coming from Breana. Farkle felt her shaking in his arms, and the puddle that had meant that she had wet herself. It wasn't the first time, and honestly, it was easier to deal with than throw up when anyone was sick. It was just what you did when you had to take care of someone.
Breana whimpered, squirming out of Farkle's grip. "It's ok." Farkle soother his hand over her upper back. Breana shook her head. "It's gross." She squirmed again. "Urine is sterile." Farkle reminded her. She shook her head, finally able to get out of the bed. She went straight towards the bathroom, locking herself in in order to shower. Stuart sighed, leaving one of his shirts, Farkle's boxers and some undergarments outside the bathroom for her while Farkle changed the sheets. They had waterproof covers for the bed already, and they didn't want to upset her further by suggesting that she wear diapers. It was a delicate process, and she was barely comfortable going to school, let alone talking to strangers. She was on track to graduate really early because of her super smarts even.
Farkle looked at Stuart. "I wish I could do something to help her more." He whispered. He had nightmares too, but none near as bad as hers now that his mother was gone. "I know." Stuart sighed, pinching his nose. Farkle looked at Stuart. "She should really see a therapist. It helped us, maybe it could help her. Like we could go to therapy as a group." Farkle suggested. "Or we can get her a Psychiatric service dog." He had been doing some research when he was able, and they were discussing getting a dog anyways.
Stuart though for a moment. "That might actually be a good idea. But of course we couldn't force her to go." Farkle nodded. "I know. I know it's not our fault, but I wish we could have found her sooner, though if we did then she would've been dragged into our mess which wouldn't have been good." He rambled. Stuart nodded.
Breana came back from the shower, having retrieved the clothes from outside the door at some point. It was obvious that she had been crying. "Are you ok?" Farkle worried. "I'm fine." She answered with as straight as face as possible. "You're not alright." Farkle whispered. Breana chewed on her lip. "Breana, what's wrong?' Stuart asked, walking towards the pair. She started crying again, shaking while also shivering because of her wet hair. Stuart gently wrapped his arms around her, grabbing a blanket from on top of the dresser.
"Breana, you can tell us what's wrong." Farkle said softly. Breana shook in Stuart's arms, struggling to breathe. Farkle raced to the nightstand for the inhaler. They made sure to keep one in every room in the house and in both of their backpacks because of how frequent her asthma attacks were. Thankfully they could afford it since they sued Jennifer's father and brothers for their blackmail and siphoning of Stuart's money.
Stuart sat Breana on his lap on the bed, trying to help her breathe with the inhaler. Once she was breathing normally Stuart put the inhaler back on the nightstand, just holding her close. "Are you sure you're ok?" He asked, rubbing the back on her neck. She nodded, leaning against him. She let herself be engulfed by his large body as her stomach growled. "How about I make breakfast?" Farkle suggested. "That's a good idea, son." Stuart nodded. "How about Waffles?" Farkle asked.
"Waffles!" Breana giggled a little. Stuart kissed her forehead, rocking her gently back and fourth.
Note: Jennifer would have been a beta so she and Stuart would have been able to divorce.
And timeline wise, Breana and Farkle would be 16-17, in their Junior year of high school. So Stuart would be 36-37. It probably sounds really gross, but Breana and Farkle would be only 1-2 years away from the age of consent, as the aoc is 17 in my home state, and 18 in NY and Cali.
And it's Omegaverse so it's kinda different, and with her painful heats they can't just leave her there by herself. Plus people with PTSD need comfort and care, even if they don't think they need it or if they they think they're gross because they wet the bed sometimes.