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eemcintyre · 9 months

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Cruel to be Kind (Terry Silver)

TW- um... about that... *inhales,* noncon touching, mentions of harassment, size/strength kink if you squint, vomit, blood, literal murder, general toxic yandere-esque behavior; no need to worry about me at all btw thx for asking ❤️

Summary- Terry finds out that a coworker has been bothering you and you insist he stays out of it, but he takes matters into his own hands. Literally. And let's just say that it could go better.

Pls I beg you to be kind for this first foray into writing for this character. I was inspired by the phenomenal writings of @karatekels and @terrence-silver, hopefully it's an enjoyable read. It was cathartic for me to write bc I'm dealing with a v creepy guy where I work right now and it makes me feel just the tiniest bit better to imagine Terry destroying him.

“You’re quiet today. Is everything alright?”

Terry’s curious voice sounded from the leather armchair where he sat. His face was still slightly downturned from when he had been reading the book in his lap, but his eyes were directed up at her quizzically.

It was the end of a long workday for both he and Y/N, and after dinner they had decided to simply sit and enjoy each other’s company- he in the armchair, and she on the couch perpendicular to him. However, his attempts at conversation quickly fizzled out with short, superficial replies from Y/N. While she was usually vibrant, having no shortage of things to say as her dark eyes glittered with excitement, that evening, her distant gaze reflected that her thoughts were elsewhere.

At Terry’s question, Y/N’s gaze snapped out of the distance and onto him, his favorite place for it to be.

“Yes, of course, everything’s fine,” she smiled and nodded, with what looked like substantial effort, sitting with her feet curled up on the couch.

Terry removed his glasses and snapped the cover of his book closed. “Darling, how long until you finally realize that you can’t lie to me?” They’d been together for five years and married for three of them, and she had yet to succeed.

“I…” Y/N opened her mouth to make another hollow proclamation about how fine she was but thought better of it. “It’s nothing; it’s not important. You have better things to worry about.”

She stared down at her hands, twisted together in her lap. Embarrassment washed over her in an intense red flush as she thought about what she was bothered by, praying that she wouldn’t have to tell him.

Terry leaned forward almost imperceptibly in his chair, lowering his voice, his expression softening in the way that it only did for her.

“Should I be worried? Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“It’s just… you have a tendency to… overreact.” Y/N briefly met his eyes, even though she knew without looking at them that they were piercing through her.

“Oh?”

Y/N could tell from that single syllable of Terry’s response that what she’d said had been the wrong thing to say. The soft expression returned to its typical severity.

“Give me an example. Give me an example of a time I ‘overreacted’,” he gestured for her to go on, leaning back into the armchair and crossing one long leg over the other.

“Terry…”

“No, I want to know. Tell me so I can learn how to handle myself better.” His voice was laced with sarcasm. Her stomach sank, but there was no turning back from the conversation now. His interest was piqued, and like an animal on the hunt, he wasn’t about to let the matter go.

“Well, like the time that guy hit on me at the charity ball and you roundhouse-kicked him in the garden.” Y/N replied cautiously, cringing, not only remembering the feeling of that creep groping her again, but also the shock of Terry’s dramatic reaction to it.

Rather than hotly debate that past event with her, which was what Y/N expected, he simply cocked his head and asked “Is this like that time?”

“Just… please be calm.”

“I am calm.” His voice took on an unmistakably harder edge as he leaned toward her again, waves of silver hair framing his face, and just like that it softened. His capacity to pivot from one mood to another, moment-by-moment, never failed to amaze her. Terry rose from his chair and took the place next to Y/N on the couch, resting one of his large, warm hands over hers, which were sitting on the tops of her thighs. “You’re just worrying me. What’s going on?”

Y/N sighed, her eyes affixed to the floor, fidgeting nervously with Terry’s hand as she spoke. “There’s this guy who’s a higher-up in my department at work- Brian- who’s been… bothering me. At first, he just made a lot of, like, off-color jokes, but now he’s also touched me a couple of times and- I mean, maybe it was an accident, but…” Her voice had become barely a mumble. “I just feel really uncomfortable… and I don’t want it to escalate anymore…”

She paused briefly and finally turned her head to face him. He remained silent, and unlike how he could so easily with her, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The silence intensified her nervousness, so she rambled on.

“I’m trying to figure out how I should handle it without causing a big scene because, other than that, I have a really good thing going there, but… I’m just afraid that one day he’s going to be outside waiting for me in the parking lot or something.” She was shaking by this point and turned away from him again.

With a husband who was known for being so strikingly intelligent and capable of handling himself, Y/N felt utterly stupid for 1) getting into such a situation in the first place, and 2) not yet managing to get it under control. She wondered if a “strike first, strike hard, no mercy” lecture was coming.

Instead, she was surprised when he rose from the couch and strode toward one of the tall living room windows, hands in his pockets.

“Does this prick know that you’re married?” he asked.

She held up her left hand, adorned with a large and intricately detailed ring that was hard, if not impossible, for anyone to miss.

“Does he know who you’re married to?”

“I doubt there’s anyone in town who doesn’t,” Y/N uttered a half-hearted laugh.

“And do you dislike that?” He stepped back toward her with measured steps, but his blue eyes flashed. “Is there a reason you don’t want to be associated with me?”

“I just don’t like being treated differently,” she said wistfully, thinking back to when she was just another random person and not Terry Silver’s wife. “Sometimes I feel like I get things I didn’t earn. Sometimes people act like they’re afraid of me.”

“They’re not afraid of you, angel. They’re afraid of me,” Terry replied, his matter-of-fact tone contrasted by the tension of his fists and the vein protruding from his forehead. “But apparently, not enough. If someone disrespects you, they disrespect me.”

Y/N’s shoulders sagged in frustration. “Don’t make this out to be an attack on your ego; this has nothing to do with you-”

“It has everything to do with me!”

She flinched and he made a conscious effort to lower his voice, crouching at her feet and taking her hands, tilting her chin up to force her to look at him. “A threat to you is a threat to me because I care about you so deeply. And no one threatens me and gets away with it.”

“Terry, now you’re scaring me…” She tried to shrink away from his touch, but he was slipping too far into his own anger to notice. The idea of some creep feeling entitled to put their filthy, unworthy hands on his wife, reducing her vivacious personality and sweet smile to a quiet, blank stare, had Terry seeing red.

“This jackass put his hands on you? I’ll put my hands around his neck until it snaps,” he growled.

“Terry! Please, let me resolve this. Don’t hurt him-”

“-Don’t hurt him?” he was incredulous. They rose to their feet together, where he towered over her and gripped her by the shoulders. “He hurt you, I’ll hurt him. Cause and effect. Actions have consequences. If he doesn’t have an understanding of that concept, I’ll give him one…”

“‘Consequences’ doesn’t have to mean breaking his legs. I am begging you, please just let me handle this and don’t do anything, not yet- promise me, sweetheart, please. For me.” Y/N’s voice shook as she pleaded with him, hands fisted in his shirt, trying with everything in her power not to cry as she felt tears shimmer at the corners of her eyes.

Terry stared down at her wordlessly, but his face calmed, and he released her from his hold, making a gesture with his shoulders and arms that Y/N read as acceptance.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, wrapping her arms around his torso in an embrace, her body relaxing when she felt his arms curl around her too.

The following day, Y/N pulled her cream-colored vintage Mercedes into the driveway. She was looking forward to an early start to the weekend, having had an extremely productive day and meeting all of the week’s deadlines just after the hour of noon. It was truly shocking how productive Y/N could be when she wasn’t constantly having to worry about avoiding Brian and wondering what he might do next.

When Y/N first clocked in for the morning, she’d been struck with an ice-cold pang in her stomach upon noticing that his desk was empty. She immediately thought of the ominous conversation with Terry yesterday, but before she could fall too far down that spiral, she was relieved to learn that Brian had merely called in sick. She laughed at herself. There was always some kind of cough or cold floating around the office, and to be honest, Y/N was surprised that she hadn’t caught anything herself in a while.

Even though a single day of illness wasn’t going to fix any of her problems, it was definitely a charming coincidence, a welcome surprise. It made the entire day incredibly pleasant- the sun seemed to shine brighter, her morning tea tasted sweeter, and the sound of the Motown music coming from the car radio sounded clearer. Maybe the universe was on her side and, even if she didn’t know how yet, everything would sort itself out after all.

Reaching the garage, she removed the key from the Mercedes’ ignition and took a moment to relish in the silence. The only detectable sound was the distant chirp of birds.

Come to think of it, it was almost too quiet.

Even during times when Terry himself was away doing work, the staff was always clattering around inside and outside the house doing cleaning and maintenance. Maybe they’d also had a productive morning.

Gathering her purse and heading inside, Y/N thought about suggesting to Terry that they go out to dinner, and maybe even take a whirlwind weekend trip. She decided to freshen up her hair and makeup and change into something cute before he returned home. Maybe that delicate champagne-colored slip dress from Paris.

Y/N found the interior of the house to be just as quiet and empty as the exterior, the sound of her lone footsteps bouncing off the marble walls of the foyer. She jumped upon hearing a thud from the floor above but was comforted to finally hear some sort of movement in the house. She was about to call out for some of the staff when Vince, Terry’s head of security, appeared from a side hallway.

Y/N smiled in relief. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?” she asked, realizing that if Vince was at the house, then Terry must be as well. “Where’s Terry?”

Vince did not smile back. “Mr. Silver is working in his office. He asked not to be disturbed until-”

She waved him off, bemused, taking a step forward that he immediately moved to block. “What are you talking about? I’m sure-”

“Mrs. Silver, he ordered me not to let anyone in.”

“I’m his wife,” she insisted, her pulse inexplicably starting to race, eyebrows furrowed as she kept trying to get past Vince and he continued to block her path. It kept repeating over and over in her head that something was wrong. “I’m sure he didn’t mean…”

Their tense dance across the floors escalated as Vince physically tried to hold her in place by the shoulders.

“What the hell? Let me go!” she cried, writhing in his grip, and swatting at his chest.

“Mrs. Silver, please don’t do this-”

Y/N managed to push him away from her for a brief moment, long enough to step out of the perimeter of his reach and sprint up the stairs. She stumbled a few times, shaking and lightheaded, and her thoughts were so muddled from panic that she hardly knew how she eventually reached the door of Terry’s office.

She would have hesitated to dramatically burst in and disturb him under normal circumstances, but these circumstances were decidedly not normal.

She staggered through the doorway.

The rest of the room was slightly sunken-in from the doorway, making it so one was unable to see most of the room without taking a few steps further. She was met again with eerie quiet- apart from the faint sound of someone breathing heavily. Still shaking, Y/N treaded delicately forward until she sighted Terry standing in the middle of the room by the small couch, his back to her.

“I thought I told you not to come in here until I called you,” he snapped, his shoulders rising up and down with the force of his breath. His hair was swept into a ponytail, but it looked askew- loose locks floating at random on both sides of his head.

“Terry?” Y/N approached him timidly, struggling to speak over her knotted-up stomach.

At the sound of her voice, Terry spun around. Y/N froze. Surprise briefly flickered across his face before he brought his expression back to its typical calculated control. “You’re home early, darling,” he murmured, forcing enough of a smile that it would appear he was pleased to see her.

“I… I finished up my projects for the week…” Y/N trailed off, taking in the rest of Terry’s unusual appearance. His face glistened with sweat and one side looked like it was smeared with…

“W-what’s that?” she gasped, eyes widening as she gestured to his face.

Terry lifted a hand to his cheek, and when he lowered it, he studied the dark red that had transferred to the pad of his finger. He would have to think fast.

“You’re bleeding.”

As Y/N neared Terry, he tried to guide her away from where he’d been by the couch, but it was too late. As she grew close enough to just barely see around the front of the couch, her eyes went to an unfamiliar object on the ground.

It was a man’s shoe. With a foot in it.

Terry was silent as Y/N screamed, stumbling back in horror as her gaze traveled further up and recognized Brian, crumpled up on the floor in a heap of blood.

Terry caught her as she fell and attempted to gather her into his arms, but she thrashed against his hold.

“Get the hell away from me- don’t touch me! Don't fucking touch me!” Even though he was far stronger than her, he allowed her to push him away. He spoke in a measured, low tone.

“Listen. I didn’t want you to have to see this…”

“You are so sick,” she choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks, eying him like he was an uncaged wild animal.

“Sick with love for you, yes,” he replied bluntly, slightly tilting his head and giving a small shrug.

“No, you’re a monster; you are evil and vile and perverted…” she sobbed.

“Well, don’t stop there. Go ahead. Tell me more, sweetheart.” Terry’s tone was flat but his gaze was unflinchingly intense. She recoiled. “What did you expect me to do? Did you really think I was going to stand aside and do nothing, knowing that my wife spends every day looking over her shoulder and living in fear, getting preyed on like a piece of meat? Besides, I told you- a threat to you is a threat to me. I protect what’s mine.”

He tried to grab ahold of her again and she tried to wrestle blindly out of his arms, her vision blurred by tears, the anger at being betrayed, and the stomach-turning fear of what he was really capable of, no matter how much of a mellow act he could put on. But, this time, he didn’t allow her to push him away.

“Why the hell are you crying? You didn’t even like this worthless piece of shit- he hurt you and he got exactly what he deserved!”

She was supposed to be relieved- she also wasn’t supposed to see the body or find out Brian had been murdered- but there was no undoing it. Terry roughly gripped her by the chin, confused frustration overtaking his better judgement as he forced her to look at the body seeping blood all over the office carpet.

“Now, look at that. You’ll never hear another filthy word from that mouth,” he whispered gently, the side of his face pressed to hers, gesturing to Brian’s battered facial features. “Those hands will never touch you again.” Terry pointed out the amalgamation of blood and broken bone at the end of each of the man’s arms.

Y/N was able to free her chin, slippery from tears, from Terry’s grip, stomping one of his feet and elbowing him in the ribcage hard. He could have easily kept his hold on her and subdued her but decided it would be best to allow her a couple of minutes to calm down. He would repay her for the blows and the ungratefulness another time.

Terry reminded himself that Y/N, unlike himself, was totally inexperienced when it came to violence, blood, and guts. Doing what had to be done. She took the path of least resistance even at her own expense. But this was a start; something he could work with.

Alarmed by the commotion inside the office, having overheard the conversation but hesitating to interrupt, Vince and a member of the maintenance staff finally crept inside of the room, looking at Terry expectantly.

“Clean this room from top to bottom,” Terry directed, waving his finger offhandedly in the general direction of the couch before stalking past them. As he thought about where Y/N was likely to have gone, he wiped the sticky droplets of blood from his face.

After escaping Terry, Y/N had run straight to the master bathroom to be sick. Slumped over the toilet, she heaved violently, feeling worse than she ever had in her life, coming down from the pure shock and experiencing a gouging pain in her chest. She hoped with everything in her that Terry would leave her alone, but she knew he was likely only moments behind. And sure enough, she soon heard the door open behind her and felt his body close to her again. Forced to either vomit all over the room or remain clutching the toilet (and choosing the latter) it was impossible to shy away from his suffocating touch.

He knelt next to her on the tile, delicately stroking her back with one hand and holding her hair out of her face with the other.

“Darling, just try to breathe. Try to relax your stomach,” he cooed, wholly unphased by the disgusting sights and sounds before him as she weakly tried and failed to push him off. “That’s it, let it all out. I’ve got you…”

When Y/N appeared to be finished retching for the time being, Terry brought her so that her back was flush with his chest and his own back was propped up against the wall. He snaked an arm over the counter of the bathroom vanity, grabbing a towel to wipe her face with. She burst into tears again, undoing his work, laying helpless as he cradled her.

“N-no…” she groaned faintly.

She was too exhausted and defeated to fight him anymore. Caged by his long arms and legs, she just sobbed into his warm chest, feeling the vibrations of his voice.

“Everything will be alright now. You’re safe with me.”

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