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sergeant-spoons · 2 years

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115. And the Ashes of Eden Fall

Verity/Victor Rich

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @chaosklutz @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @claire-bear-1218 @heirsoflilith @itswormtrain @actualtrashpanda @wtrpxrks

TW: This chapter includes explicit depictions of a concentration camp.

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The air was thick. Verity didn't like the feeling of it moving through her lungs. She tried to breathe shallowly but only found that it made her faint. She looked to Major Winters, who had stopped for a moment, looking forward. She was not the only one. The men had looked to him for direction for years. Now, they needed him more than ever.

Winters steeled himself. When approached the gates, he moved slowly. His boots seemed to sink into the dark earth; his face was pale. Verity wished, for a moment, that she could believe she was dreaming. She could not convince herself it was so.

Speirs started walking forward, one hand on the strap of his rifle. Verity remained stagnant as men gathered around, silent, ghosts. Verity knew most of them by name but could hardly remember they were there. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the people behind the barbed wire fence. They were obviously prisoners of some sort, but whatever guard they'd once been under had abandoned them. Verity was confused. These people looked starved and sick. Verity had never seen one person in such poor condition, and yet here were dozens in the same state. Looking at the people in the grey striped tunics, she remembered her mother and how pale and thin she had been in the last few days of her life. Holding her mother's hand in a hospital bed was a haunting memory, but it was one of the only ones Verity had.

She sucked in a shaky breath.

Even a dying Marguerite Rich had not looked so ill as these people behind the fence.

Nixon came around Verity, ducking past her, his head low. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cross to Gene. Frank had disappeared. George was nearby. Someone sneezed, then vomited. Vaguely aware of these things around her, Verity drifted toward Gene. As soon as she came near, Nixon grabbed her hand. He stared at the gates. His grip grew tighter. Verity did not speak. She didn't think she could have even if she'd wanted to.

Someone behind her gagged. She didn't know who and she didn't care to know.

Nixon wasn't breathing. She squeezed his hand, and he took a shuddering breath. He would not look at her. He let go and turned toward Winters.

The seconds passed like twisted hours. Verity was still trying to understand how this place could be real when the stench came again and stung her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. This was real. This was happening. She understood that much. But how? How?

Frank was at the gates now. Pat Christenson went with him. They opened the first gate, stepped forward, and stopped, awaiting orders. The soil beneath their boots was the same as the rest of the forest, but somehow, it looked darker to Verity's eyes. Her hand flexed, reaching for comfort. Gene took it, squeezed, and let go, following Nixon.

Winters wanted the second gate opened. Verity did not hear the order, but Christenson's nod and his and Frank's immediate advance on the second gate gave her enough context to force a step forward—and then stop.

What do I do?

She was not a medic, nor a translator. She certainly was not an officer. She was just a young soldier who had seen enough war for a lifetime and yet struggled to fathom the devastation before her.

Frank cut the chain lock on the second gate. Christenson asked for the people lining the gate to stand back. They did not seem to understand. He repeated the suggestion, more firmly; they began to shuffle backward as the gate opened, getting out of its way. One man, limping, fell. Another caught him but did not help him to his feet, instead laying him on the ground. Several of the grey-clothed captives were weeping.

Speirs was the first to advance through the gate. His rifle and his helmet were nowhere to be seen. Verity watched him walk, still at a loss for what to do. Winters and Nixon shared a look, then followed Speirs. Gene went next, part of the second wave, the medics moving in after the officers.

For a moment, Verity felt envy. Words came to her head, fuzzy, in a voice she did not recognize:

How good it must be to have died without seeing this place.

She felt her stomach drop out from underneath her, a sensation she had not experienced even when jumping from the planes into France and Holland. Guilt caught her by the throat and turned her stomach inside out. She pivoted on unsteady feet and vomited into the dirt beside her. Babe appeared out of the crowd. He reached to his left hip but found his canteen on his right. He offered it to her. She wiped her mouth with the corner of her sleeve. Her hands were shaking. His were, too.

"No," she whispered. "Not for me."

She stood up, slowly. Her shoulders remained bent forward; her chest felt tight, the binding across it only exacerbating the feeling.

"Should I..?"

"Give it to them," she told him hoarsely, her throat raw. "Give the water to them."

He looked at her but did not move. She grabbed his elbow and pushed him forward. He shook his head, fear in his eyes.

"I'm not goin' in there without you."

Verity swallowed, but that only made her nose sting. She felt bile trickling up again but forced it down. Babe started forward, then looked back at her. She stepped up beside him, and together, they walked through the gates.

The prisoners, at first shy of the soldiers, had come closer. Verity felt someone touch her arm and turned to find not one but three gaunt faces staring at her. She tried to force a smile but failed. One of the men came forward and hugged her. She was afraid to hug back, fearing she might break the brittle bones she could see hauntingly clearly beneath his skin. He started crying, which led to coughing, and within seconds, he had leaned his entire weight on Verity. She began to sink down toward the dingy earth, unable to hold up his weight, and Babe came forward, gently moving the man's arm around his shoulders. He lifted his canteen and offered it to the frail man, who took it and drank, his tears mixing with the water. He dropped the canteen as he was trying to hand it back. No one caught it, and the water within seeped out, absorbed rapidly into the grey dirt.

"God, have mercy."

Babe's voice was hoarse. He was staring past Verity, canteen forgotten. She turned as best she could with the man still crying on her shoulder and looked into the smoke. More people in the same grey striped shrouds were emerging from huts built into the ground. Lifeless bodies littered the earth.

"How many are there?"

"Too many," Verity whispered.

Babe did not seem to hear her.

The prisoners just kept coming. Soon, they outnumbered the soldiers. O'Keefe appeared, wandering past Verity and Babe. She knew his expression of helpless horror was mirrored on her own face and the faces of their comrades. Even Captain Speirs, renowned for his stoicism, looked dizzy with emotion.

The man leaning on Verity turned at the sound of a voice she knew well speaking a language she did not understand. Blinking away his tears, the man lurched away (with Babe's help) toward Liebgott, Winters, and Nixon. Verity had forgotten until that moment that Lieb knew German. Her stomach knotted up even further. These were Germans imprisoned by Germans.

"What the fuck?" she asked aloud.

O'Keefe turned toward her, tears in his eyes.

"Rich," he said, his voice breaking, "what do we do?"

"We..." She looked around. "There. Lip's gathering blankets. Sergeant Lipton, I mean. Go- go ask him."

O'Keefe wandered in that direction. Verity made to follow him but stopped short at the sight of a prisoner carrying a body up to Shifty Powers and Chuck Grant. The corpse was so bony its skeleton was already poking through paper-thin skin. Sickened, Verity started their way but was stopped again by a pleading voice. She turned and found a young man staring at her, far thinner than he should have been, shaking and gesticulating faintly.

"I don't understand," she told him, her words sounding stilted to her own ears, "I'm sorry."

"Hilfe," he pleaded, "hilfe."

"He says 'help'."

Verity did not have to look far to find Webster standing beside her.

"Sind Sie hier, um zu helfen?"

"Ja. Ja, wir sind hier um... um zu helfen."

The young man, with tears in his eyes, threw himself upon Webster in a weeping embrace. Verity, feeling a nauseating sense of déjà vu, took a cue from Babe and reached for her canteen. Her fingers landed upon another's hand, and she jumped. There was a boy sitting on the ground, reaching up toward her, eyes wide and bloodshot. She knelt, then fell onto her hip. Quickly pushing herself into a cross-legged position, certain she would have fallen fully onto her side had she hesitated, she beckoned the boy closer and handed him her canteen. He could not open it. She reached to take it back and he scrambled away. Miming an unscrewing motion, she reached again. After a beat of hesitation, he held it out to her. She did not take it from him, only opened the cap, and he greedily drank. Verity took a deep breath that ended in a gasp when the boy began choking. Alarmed, she gave a shout, and the young man who was crying on Webster fell to his knees, panicking, holding the boy to his chest. Gene appeared and helped the boy cough out the water. He looked up as the boy caught his breath, mumbling something to the young man—perhaps his brother—and met Verity's eye. She felt worse for the look. Not even in Bastogne had Gene appeared so lost.

Someone was wailing. Verity wanted to raise her voice and join in but found her vocal cords would not move, no matter how hard she willed them to. She sobbed, once, aloud. The boy and the young man looked at her. The former murmured something; the latter sighed and looked at Verity.

"Du siehst aus wie seine Schwester."

Webster looked sick to his stomach.

"He says you look like his-"

Gene looked up. "His what?"

"His brother."

Verity blinked. Schwester did not sound like it meant 'brother'. Schwester sounded like it meant 'sister'.

She beckoned to the boy. He crawled into her lap and sat there, shivering. Verity looked up.

"Blanket," she croaked out. "Get him a blanket."

Webster turned and marched off, duty the only thing keeping his feet moving. Gene rose, exchanged a nod with the young man, and kept walking around, helping those he could. Soldiers started leaving the camp in clumps. Verity heard the engine of a truck start up. Webster came back with the blanket. He draped it over the boy, who looked up at him with eyes heavy from exhaustion. He was just a kid; he could not have been more than thirteen or fourteen years old. Verity tucked the blanket around him and wished hopelessly that he had never come to this place. Webster leaned down and placed her helmet on the ground beside her. She must have dropped it as she came into the camp, though she couldn't remember having taken it off her head.

"Some of us are going back to the town," Webster told her. "We're going to get food and water and medicine."

"Get blankets, too, as many as you can carry," Gene said on his way past, his next piece of advice lost to Verity's ears when the young man started to cry out.

"Miek! Miek, nein!"

He grabbed the boy's shoulders and shook. Miek, whose eyes had fluttered shut, awoke at once and began crying.

"Here," Verity pleaded, "here, have more water."

The boy accepted the canteen but did not drink. He looked afraid. Realizing Miek was alright, the young man took the canteen and raised it to the boy's lips. He helped him drink, then took a few sips for himself.

"More," Verity urged, "have more."

He shook his head, not understanding. She mimed sipping and he frowned at her.

"Nein. Das müssen wir rationieren."

"Ration?" Verity guessed. "No, you don't need to ration. Nein. Nien ration... rationieren."

The young man blinked at her, still abstaining. Verity caught an olive trouser leg passing by and George Luz looked down at her.

"Water?"

He passed her his canteen without a word. She felt the weight of water and so opened it, showing it to the young man.

"Here. More water."

"Mehr... mehr Wasser?"

Verity hoped she was saying the right thing when she nodded and repeated, "Mehr Wasser." To her relief, the young man took the second canteen and cradled it to his chest. He closed its cap, spoke briefly to the boy Miek, and drained the rest of the water from Verity's canteen. George came back around after a minute, coughing. His face had gone sallow since she'd last seen him.

"There's more in the huts," he told Verity, his voice uncharacteristically monotone. "They're just layin' there. There's gotta be, what-" He looked at Bull Randleman, standing silent beside him. "-hundreds?"

Bull looked away.

"Hundreds," Verity mouthed, and suddenly wished she had something to lean on behind her. The weight of the boy in her lap now felt twice as heavy, though he was still as frail as before. George and Bull walked away. This time, when the boy fell asleep, the young man did not wake him but kept a close eye on the rising and falling of his bony chest.

"Miek?" Verity asked, nodding toward the boy. "His name is Miek?"

"Sein Name ist Miek."

"Miek."

Verity touched the boy's cheek. As she withdrew her hand, she started to shake and could not seem to stop. The young man took Miek and laid him in his lap, stroking his small shaven head. Verity tried twice to stand but her legs refused to hold her up. She remained sitting and shaking beside the young man until Frank Perconte appeared and silently helped her to her feet. Miek slept on. Looking at him, Verity was terrified he wouldn't wake up. The young man did not seem to notice she had stood. She didn't want to leave him and the boy, but at the same time, she wanted nothing more than to run far, far away from this place. Frank tugged at her sleeve.

"C'mon. We gotta get the stuff from the, uh, from the truck."

They watched a man limp past, holding his own hand as if he hadn't realized it had fallen off.

"Fuck."

Verity remembered something, then, something she had wondered back in that convent in Rachamps. Sitting beside Malarkey, holding his hand, crying with him into the pitiless night—

What could possibly justify this?

She could answer that question now.

This could.

Staring at the hell before her until the world went soothingly blurry, she felt her throat burning but doubted she had anything left in her stomach to throw up. Frank tugged at her sleeve again. She didn't move.

This fucking could.

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#verity/victor rich #verity/victor rich ficlet #verity/victor rich 115: and the ashes of eden fall #band of brothers #tw: holocaust #tw: heavy angst #tw: genocide #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #in defense of chicanery #mentions of the holocaust

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electrozeistyking · 2 months

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tomorrow

#by the way i’m not here. i just scheduled this to post today #probably won’t be back until some point after episode seven comes out.#so i’ll be off doing something Personal Related until then! for now enjoy this tasty piece because that sure is angst #murder drones #murder drones n #n murder drones #serial designation n #tw eye contact #tw eyestrain #potentially???#also yeah no. this piece is literally named ‘tomorrow’#yes i was listening to guilty by al bowlly while i drew this. did the fact this piece uses lyrics from it make it obvious or #haha i’m scared actually #zeisty’s heavy hitters

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rileyclaw · 2 years

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first friend, final protector.

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starry-bi-sky · 2 months

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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it.

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats.

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.”

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died.

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.

He has no mouth, but he must scream.

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood.

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off.

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts.

Scrappy is just not enough.

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all.

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash.

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings.

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice.

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail.

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it.

Being dead is agony.

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow.

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever.

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be.

Being dead hurts.

#tw mild gore #cw mild blood #cw mentioned violence #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #cfau #cfau danny #obsessed with the fact that danny just has the WORST fucking time after jason dies and baby i can make it worse #*kills you and makes you a banshee and puts you in an irrevocable state of grief*#delicious angst. danny is having the wORSt time ever lol. lmao even #was originally meant to explore the idea that danny can survive lethal injuries as phantom. which briefly got mentioned.#but i got away from myself. leaning reaaal heavy into the fact that danny's a banshee. At 19 he's got a pretty good handle of himself #but imagine being a fresh out the gate banshee. usually they get time to themselves in the zone to cry until their heart's content.#sorry danny. you have school tomorrow and family sleeping in the bedroom next door #kinda proud of myself. you can kinda see how Rath would've occurred here.#danny is going through it rn #was gonna add a snippet about the city's thoughts on phantom but couldnt fit it in

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frissy · 1 year

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Earth42! Miles Morales x fem!Reader

ATSV SPOILERS

(Edited) ——— (Part 1) (Part 2)

• fluff to angst

• tw: mentions of death

• google translate used, so excuse any mistakes

• short! • Miles loves to spoil you

• little bit OOC, Miles has a soft spot for you

• not proofread!!

”Where next, mí amor?” He grabbed your hand.

You and Miles were out on a date, and he was spoiling you.. like a lot.

But you’re not complaining though.

He’s gentle with you, which is unlike his apathetic and cold demeanor.

But you are his [name]. His world, his love. He would do anything for you if it ended up withyou safe and happy.

“Miles.. isn’t this a bit much? We’ve been out all day and you’re carrying so many bags.” You looked at him, slight confusion in your eyes.

He has bags all around his arms. He didn’t let you carry anything. He didn’t want you to, he heave you major princess treatment.

“nonsense, mí amor… it’s never too much when it comes to you.” His grip on your hand got tighter.

You had no clue where Miles got all this money from, it’s kind of concerning to you. But he’s not gonna tell you, so you just go with it.

“oh.. okay then.. how about.. uh.. the jewelry store?”

“Of course.”

He went the rest of the day spoiling you, and being affectionate.

”I love you, [name]. Mí amor… mí vida… mi bella querida.“ he kissed your cheek. Wrapping an arm around your waist.

Everything was great, it was all fine. Nothing bad could happen, right? .

Your date was later over, he went home while you went to work.

That’s when everything went terribly wrong. .

Meanwhile…

Miles was slouching on his couch, he was thinking about you, and how much he loved spending time with you… then, he saw the news channel. It was live.

The whole world stopped for him. There was a crumbling building… and it was falling to you.

That’s when he saw his dad too. He had ran to you, attempting to help, but it was too late. Miles watched it all from the TV. .

He was crying. He hadn’t noticed. But he did when it all sunk in… you were dead. His darling, his world. Was dead.

All he could do now was beg for you to walk through the apartment door, coming to see him again with a bright smile on your face.

He was waiting for his dad to come home, with dinner in his hands from Miles’s favorite restaurant.

He would never witness either of those ever again. .

As soon as he could, Miles and his uncle Aaron made a tribute to you and his dad with graffiti on the brick wall on the roof of the apartment complex. .

His father was smiling in the portrait. In his police uniform…

JEFFERSON DAVIS: BELOVED HUSBAND, AND FATHER.

You were also smiling. But Miles’s had painted a halo around your head. You were his angel after all, but now you were truly an Angel.

[NAME, L.NAME]: BELOVED FRIEND, BELOVED DARLING.

TO BE CONTINUED

#fluff to angst #ansgt #tw death #tw blo0d #miles morales #prowler miles #earth 42 #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #Death #tw gun violence #tw gunfire #loss of a loved one #heavy angst

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stararch4ngelqueen · 8 months

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Sooo idk if u take requests and this is super angst but it’s been in my mind. Kinda like ghosts and mirages can u write a fic where jay finds readers (his gf) notebook and sees that she’s suicidal? And how he stops her? If this is too much angst I get it. Mwah !

TW: Suicide/self harm/mentions of attempts. STRONG topics, this was difficult to write but if it brings comfort to someone in need, I hope so. Please be advised.

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Before Jason was killed, he had natural ideas of death, as did everyone else.

What did heaven look like? Was it a fluffy clouded paradise? Would people find eternal happiness sitting by crystallize rivers glimmering in the sun, feasting on ripe fruits like Adam and Eve had done before them?

Everyone’s ideals were different, Jason’s had always changed. However, he liked the idea of this heaven, enjoying the possibilities of seeing his old pets running to him once the time came.

Just like the torch passed from one Robin to the next, things unexpectedly change.

When Jason died, there was nothing.

No heaven, no hell, no happiness. Maybe God held his soul on standby because he knew he’d return to the living. He wasn’t happy about it for the longest time.

Luckily, a piece of heaven blessed itself in a person such as yourself. Your smile as bright as sunshine, your heart as sweet and pure as gold. He’s never met anyone so happy, so free spirited and optimistic.

He didn’t mean to read it. He really didn’t.

He watched you write in journals all the time, ripping out pages when it came to grocery lists or phone numbers to shove in your backpack before leaving the door. He was only looking for a shopping list you texted him to take a photo of, only to come across the tragedies you’ve dealt with and still carry.

His heart absolutely shattered when he reads the vivid darkness of your sorrows embodied within the pages of your private journal. A painful burn forming deep in his chest, right in his own heart.

What worried him the most was your latest entry, dated on a Monday in fresh ink. Monday. Yesterday.

When you came home in question as to why Jason never sent you that list, you didn’t expect him to be sitting in the living room. His head hung low, his hands clenched together in desperation.

He didn’t bother to say anything. He didn’t need to.

Your journal, your cursed, dark brown journal was sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Your silence screams out to him, his head turning to acknowledge your presence. He stands slowly, watching you carelessly drop your backpack onto the floor, looking absolutely horrified at what’s to come.

“Jason,” you say, staying right where you were at the door. “Stop. Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asks, staring at you with somber eyes.

“Stop that,” you instantly reply, feeling your heart beat much faster. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that!” You exclaim, your breathing growing more frantic. “Like I’m ... like there’s something wrong with me! Cut it out! Stop it!”

“I’m not—!” Jason’s voice accidentally raised, forcing himself to hold his tongue, his hands balled tightly by his sides.

“There’s nothing wrong with you baby,” He begins to say, only met with your shaking head.

“No, y’know what? Don’t bother,” you reply, quickly reaching for your keys.

You weren’t going to take that kind of conversation from anyone else ever again. The same, horrid words you’ve heard from your parents, your siblings, your friends.

You’re sick. How could you do this? What’s wrong with you? You need to be locked up somewhere.

Bold, accusatory statements that hurt worse than any knife ever could.

“You read it. It wouldn’t be sitting there if you hadn’t! I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you tell me that I’m—“

“Just stop!” He rips the keys from your hands, taking you by surprise at how fast he reached you. He nearly traps you against the door, hands grasping firmly along your shoulders.

“There’s nothing, baby!” He states right to your face, making your eyes grow wide. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing. I won’t let you think there is, get that shit out of your head right now!”

“B-but,” you start to babble, thick tears heading in the borders of your eyes. “I- I just -“

“You’re not crazy,” he interrupts, cradling your face in his heavy, trembling hands. “You’re not sick. Theirs nothing wrong with you, y’hear me? Nothing! Not a damn thing!”

Jason exhales a pained laugh, his own eyes spewing with tears. “Take it from me, babygirl. I’ve already died once, I’ll die again if you think like this.”

Speechless stole your ability to think, your ability to breathe. Your throat constricts around an invisible ball of molten steel, making you choke on your tears.

“I know you don’t wanna go, Princess,” Jason’s voice grows softer, both his thumbs making work in wiping your tears. “I know you don’t. You’re just tired, baby. That’s all.”

Slowly, you find yourself nodding, watching him nod with you.

“I’m tired,” you admit, gasping heavily in your newly weakened vulnerability. “I’m so tired, Jason.”

He holds you close to his body, clutching you as if saving you from a devastating fall. He knows this pain all too well, and you’ve saved him from it.

“I know,” he exhales, keeping you from withering away in the safety of his arms. “I gotcha now, okay baby? M’not going anywhere, jus’ let it out. I’m a big guy, I can take it.”

His biggest regret was letting those entries fill up three quarters of the journal. How many more did you fill up before then? How much pain do you carry in your heart that you need to hide via forcefully brighter smiles?

He wasn’t going to let this go on much longer. He needed you to know that someone in this harsh world understood the exhaustion, and that it was okay.

He didn’t know if Heaven or Hell truly existed, or if it was all just some huge hole of dark nothingness. He didn’t want you finding out either, feeling he’d be torn at the idea of bringing you to a Lazarus pit, but relenting on the possible side effects you’d suffer for it.

You deserved nothing of what Jason experienced, the man himself now feeling hellbent to protect you from it.

There wasn’t going to be any attempt, because Jason would do everything in his damn power to make sure that never, ever fucking happens.

Medications were locked, except the essentials, which even he supervised. He’d order from your favorite restaurants for a short while, preventing any use of kitchen cutlery.

He’d dote, making sure you kept your hygiene maintained. He’d enjoy sitting beside you outside the tub while you bathed, reading to you to keep you company. Though on certain days, you’d find his eyes flicker from the paper towards your hands when you had to use a razor, which even he was iffy about, and hid once you were done.

He never said he didn’t trust you, but don’t really be surprised if your razor is replaced with hair removal cream for the first few weeks.

If you were comfortable enough to seek out therapy, he’d offer up numbers of therapists he’s visited and trusted, helping you keep up schedules. After each session, he’d surprise you with flowers and boba on a park walk, or drive outside of Gotham.

Progress would be made, but progress wouldn’t move forward without your weak moments.

You’d have your days where your motivation was as stubborn as Jason’s mentality, refusing to listen to the things he said, or not bothering to get dressed for your next scheduled session.

Depression is horrid, but he understood. He was the most patient man you knew, cradling your body close to his in the middle of the night, muffling your minutes of screaming sobs against his chest, gently prying your hands away from your forearms when you dig your nails in a little too deep.

He’d remain awake as long as he had to, cradling your hands in his until your agony mellowed out, lulling you back to sleep. He was being the person he wished he had by his side long before he met you, back when he was alone and had no one.

Jason looked forward to the days you’d smile again, genuine happiness being a fuel to those pleasant flames. It’s okay if it would take a long time, keep giving him your tears. He can handle it.

You were the greatest gift he’s ever gotten in this fucked up world, not even you were going to take it away from him.

- -

I don’t know what death is like, nor do I know of all beliefs everyone has of them, but I do know about suicidal thoughts/intentions and having experienced them, please know, as tired as you may be, it isn’t worth it. My inbox is open if you ever need it. Dosent matter if you’re a stranger, let’s not be ❤️

#this hurt #jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #dc jason todd #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd dc #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x plus size reader #angst #heavy angst #tw self destruction #tw sui implied

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ilariyalavorowrites · 16 days

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Time enough for love

imagine: A mission to ensure Kate and Anthony find each other during the social season of 1814. Time travelling into the past to ensure that crucial moments occur. However, you find yourself falling in love with the pair. It breaks your heart when it comes to leaving and returning to the future.

Warnings: Angst with an eventual happy ending, AU, Bisexual Kate, Scandal, such a scandal

Pairings: Kate Sharma x Reader x Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 2,831 words

Universe: Bridgerton

Reader gender: Female

Author: Ilariya_Lavoro writes

Tagged: @agathaharknessfan96 @homie0sapien @a-lil-bit-nuts

Part one of ?

1814

Night of the Featherington Ball

It was over; the mission had been a roaring success, then why did you feel so damn hollow? You had completed every objective down to the letter and tackled each obstacle as it arose. Yet, you couldn’t shake this heaviness pressing down, refusing to budge. It was as if a lead tonne weight lingering here, chained tightly around your ribcage. A continual reminder of what had been. What could never be.

You shouldn’t be feeling like this; this should have been nothing short of a cut-and-dry race to the finish, straight from A to B, right?

This was where you meant to jump off, go home, and simply pack away any forbidden thoughts of them. You would report in one last time with your head held high and simply walk away. Never once looking back over your shoulder, in hopes that…

No, you could not think like that. It would not do. You needed to move forward, wading through the muddle of emotions that flooded your senses. You could not let them consume you, regardless of how easy that might seem at this moment in time. How effortless it might be to simply let the rush of a wondrous collection of memories wash over you, allowing the warmth and joy back in. Living in all that had been but no, that could not be.

It was never meant to be your life, they were never yours to begin with. The unexpected result of your actions was just that, a blip in time. A second that would rapidly disappear as soon as the clock hand inched forward. Time moved on without hesitation, and so must you. You had done your job, it was time to leave and return to your own time, to that one cold and barely furnished bedroom flat that you called home.

This might have been the first occasion that you had been called up to lead an operation on the ground. For you had to be part of more missions and operations than you could count but they were nothing like this.

For this was what you had trained for, the last ten years could and would not be wasted due to the simple fact that you couldn’t put those troublesome feelings to bed. You cursed silently as you began to pace back and forth.

For you had been able to separate yourself before, view them as objectives to be completed. It had been a job just like all the others. Nothing was different. Ensuring that fate's designs were painted into being, letting the breath of existence breeze through as the bright colours danced for all to see. It has been illuminating to witness the weaving of the threads upon the loom as it tightened and pulled this way and that until the artistry was revealed for all to see.

You knew what was likely to occur when you returned to the base. Your superiors would see what was plainly displayed on your face. Labelling you as emotionally compromised and needing to be fixed before redeployment could be an option. A visit to the Doctor. He who haunts and darkens the basement corridors where few would dare to tread.

His particular set of skills did indeed have their uses but the price was one, so steep that most would reluctantly follow through. Usually only with a gun pressed firmly in one back if not done voluntarily. That high price was relatively simple, you would lose what you desperately clung to. Any memory of this operation would be scrubbed away. Leaving a void where they had once been. A memory wipe, for it would be as if you had been restored to your factory settings.

It would be as if you hadn’t been selected in the first place. The last ten years would melt away, and false memories would be slotted in to create a new narrative—one without this infraction of the highest order. As your internal clock was wound back, all that had been would fade out of existence.

The situation was fraught, you were torn between your professional drive and your own desires. You stood at a crossroads, terrified to turn left or right. Either path would bear a heavy cost. Neither would leave you without a lick of damage in one form or another. You had no choice really. You sighed, resigned to the fact that your fate would be sealed with a click of a singular button. If you dared to press it.

Your finger hovered over the SEND icon. This was your point of no return, for there would be no going back once you had pressed it. The signal would be sent and the extraction would begin. The very notion of finding a place within their world was next to impossible. The relationship that you longed for was nothing short of scandalous. It would be ruinous for all involved but such desires were pure fantasy.

All you could do now was to burn the bridges that led straight back to Kate and Anthony. In that split second, as you ruminated on your choices and the consequences, weighing up all the little details and avenues.

There was a path, straightforward and painless at your feet. The true pain would be along in the days that followed as you waited for the Doctor to come calling. As the weight came crashing down upon your shoulders, pushing you further into the depths of despair until you simply could not say no.

For how can a wound of the heart bleed, if it wasn’t there, to begin with?

"All in the name of King and Country…" -----------------------------------------------------------------------------St James’s House, On the outskirts of London 2037

This was it.

You could barely contain the excitement that buzzed through your veins as you marched down the corridor towards the hanger. Your commanding officer would be waiting for you, ready to commence the next stage of the operation. This day had been just over the horizon for more than a few years, as instructions and neverending etiquette lessons were drilled into you.

Your role was vital to the mission but you would not be alone in the field. The others had long since gone ahead to establish their cover within the Ton. Now it was your turn. Your hair was tightly fashioned into what was deemed fit to meet regulation standards. No hair would fall out of place whilst you remain within these halls.

The tiled floors beneath your boot-covered feet gleamed brightly, as the rays of the midday sun shone through a nearby window. The building housing the unit had long since been converted from its original purpose. Most onlookers would have no idea what occurred behind these ornately carved stone walls.

This spacious building had once been a stately home up until the moment that the family who owned it fell into a state of financial ruin. The Department wasted no time in purchasing the land and all the buildings that were a part of the estate. Lining the edge of the expansive ground with razor wire-topped fencing to keep the curious out. Guards and officers posted at the perimeter to enforce the message that this was a military base of operation with a tight security detail.

The illustrious parties that these grand halls once hosted were often the subject of chatter amongst the ranks. One of the ballrooms had been converted into the mess, where more than a few found themselves whisked off into romantic daydreams. Imagining the musicians striking up a melody as men and women paired to dance the night away.

“Captain!” A voice called, pulling you out of your contemplation. There standing a few metres ahead was the source of the voice. Seeing the young private in his regulation uniform brought a soft smile to your lips. This young recruit nervously returned the gesture as you quickened your pace.

“Good afternoon Private” You greeted them, your tone even but tinges of warmth leaking through, trying to calm their nerves. You didn’t bite, well unless you were asked to.

“I was sent to escort you down by General Harkerl” You nodded, confirming and relaying your confirmation of the information.

“Then lead on Private '' You swiftly responded, as the young recruit turned on their heel and walked away. You followed after them through the hallway, climbing down the metal staircase at the other end which descended into the hanger. You walked in silence as the wide open space was revealed to you. Heavy-duty wires and cable ran the length of the Hangar with various and differing pieces of scientific equipment lining the walls.

The General in all her glory, stiffly stood in the middle of the structure. The stripes that she fought hard for, were proudly displayed for all to see and aspire to. If she could achieve that rank, anyone could. She had always been one of the role models that you held in esteem as you fought to show that you deserved to be here, to be counted amongst the heroes and veterans who have paved the way for you and all who followed.

As you stepped off the stairs and onto the marble floor below, the Private halted before bowing to the General and then making a hasty exit. They had done their job to the letter, a quick escort and delivery mission for one as green and new as them. You could painstakingly remember being given such tasks way back when you had started out.

You had started from the bottom, grunts at the beck and call of your superiors, even small jobs held valuable experience. This recruit would learn this in time. Your gaze turned to fall upon the stern and weathered face of the superior officer and commanding force who had recruited each individual member of the team.

“Ready to begin, are we Captain?” General Harker, with a cool but professional tone, addressed you. “You understand the parameters of this operation and the consequences should you fail”

A shiver of fear shot through you, as you considered the chance that you might fail. No, you could not dare to believe that failure was even an option. “Yes, Ma’am” You answered, knowing that her gaze was upon you, reading even the slightest expression that might arise. Yet, you remain hidden beneath your well-practised mask, a calm, steady but neutral expression that held even if underneath it all truly you were an utter bundle of nerves.

She curtly nodded, a small smile broke through but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared before turning her attention to the small control booth off to one side signalling them to begin.

“Good Luck Captain, Safe Travels”

The Department had long since perfected the Art of Time Travel for Operations such as the one, that you were about to embark on. The organisation had been built from the ground up by a few remarkable individuals who had believed that it was possible to travel through time, and who had fought tooth and nail after each failed experiment. Until that one miraculous day when all the pieces fell into place.

You were aware of the existence of the founders but never had been deemed worthy enough to stand in their presence. They were a mixture of creatives, scientists and military men who were the best and brightest in their chosen fields and had long since retired and handed over the keys to the kingdom. However, their influence was still felt to this day.

A crackle of a microphone being switched on alerted you that it was about to begin. The journey through time. You took a deep breath as an unfamiliar voice was projected around the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

“Close your eyes, Captain, and Good Luck” Your eyes slide shut, as the familiar sounds of a machine whirring as it surged into life to carry out its task of transporting you through time. How it exactly worked was a highly guarded secret. On a strictly need-to-know basis and you didn’t need to know.

General Adelaide Harker watched from within the booth as you disappeared. The petite, stocky battle-hardened woman was firmly in her fifties. Her body was littered with scars that could pen her story but now all she could do was patiently wait. How she hated no longer being fit for active duty, her body faded with age and numerous injuries that had forced her onto the sidelines.

She had been hand-picked herself by the founders after the last bout in the hospital many prior whilst she was recovering from a lengthy and complex surgery. This had been a new lease of life, a way to serve her Country from the shadows. This operation was one of the few that the Founders had meticulously planned from the very beginning. Nothing had been left to chance. They trusted her to carry their secrets and ensure success with each of the missions.

When she had initially read through the Manila portfolio that was Operation 1814. She had laughed, confused by the need to secure a matrimonial match within the aristocracy. She pushed for answers only once. Only to meet with a gentle almost grandfatherly smile from the most senior of the founders Sir Theodore before he briefly spoke.

His words had stunned her into silence. To this day, she had never truly understood the meaning behind his wise words but she trusted his and other founders’ guidance.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------March 20th 1814

Your stomach felt as if it had been tied up in knots, as the sensation of being pulled through time and space slowly faded away. It was a bizarre and almost impossible sensation to put into words as your physical body was transported from one moment in history to the next.

It never was plain sailing, no matter how many times you had been through it. The nausea would dissipate in a few hours but the headache would linger on. You’d have to push through. Each person who used the method concocted by the Department suffered differently. Some found themselves unable to walk as their legs trembled, reduced to a feeling of being made of jelly. Others collapsed from complete and utter exhaustion, feeling as if they had been drained of all but a drop of energy.

You opened your eyes to find yourself standing in the middle of a wheat field as dawn crept over the horizon. Reds, Yellows and Oranges bled together as if they were upon an artist’s palette being blended for the next brush stroke on the canvas.

Fragile dew drops clinging to blades of grass which had grown in between each of the shafts of wheat. It was as if you had wandered into a dream or one of the many fine oil paintings hung on the walls of a museum.

These few precious moments were always when you could simply stand and enjoy your last moment to breathe and enjoy the stillness of the world as the sun rose to greet the day. A warmth seeped through, caressing and embracing you, the golden rays of sunlight danced through the treeline off in the distance. What a most wonderful morning indeed.

Remembering what you read before heading off to the hangar, you knew that the lead scout would meet you upon the hour of your arrival. Still dressed in your most comfortable combat fatigues, it was time to make a move before you were discovered by another.

The sound of approaching hooves alerted you to the small fact that you were no longer alone in the middle of nowhere. Was this a stranger or the scout? Concern rose within you but hearing your name shouted was enough to settle your nerves.

As the figure drew closer astride a chestnut brown mare, you tried to make out the finer features of what seemed to be the face of a scowling man beneath the hooded cloak. His dark gaze and blonde locks were barely hidden by the fur lining of the hood. He was dressed mostly finely for an early morning ride through the countryside and could easily mistaken for one of dime a dozen gentlemen just riding through but you knew better.

This was Lieutenant Commander Edward Wren, formerly of His Royal Majesty's armed forces. You had only met a handful of times but he was known for his dry wit and relentless professionalism. He could cut you to shreds with only a few words or a single look. This was not something you could easily forget. “Come, we have a few miles to ride and no time to waste”

Once he was finished speaking, he leaned forward in the saddle, offering a hand to help pull you to be seated either in front or behind him. You reached to take his hand, ready for whatever might lie in store. This would be thrilling, no matter whatever waited for you down in good old London Town.

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storyteller-trollfan · 1 month

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Pre-first movie What if...

I have seen a lot of fics where remaining gray is a death sentence

So what if being gray isn't the main reason why the Pop villagers are weary of Branch, but because he's gray and he hasn't died yet?

If trolls who remain gray usually die within a certain time frame (either withering away or by their own means) then why hasn't he?

They don't think about how he's a stubborn, headstrong troll, or how he may still have hope and dream that keep him going (even if he'd deny having them).

They can only think...

...What is so wrong with him that not even Death wants him?

#trolls #trolls movie #dreamworks trolls #trolls branch #pop trolls #worldbuilding #what if #talk of death #tw sui implied #angst #heavy angst

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yutxsgf · 8 months

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If you died, Katsuki's heart and soul would be crushed. Even worse if he was the reason why.

Ever since you passed away from that one accident, he's never been the same. He's officially retired as a pro hero, locking himself up in the very same four walls that used to be your shared room. Now, it's just a soulless, empty pit of what it used to be.

He's cut off all of his friends, even Kirishima to the best of his abilities. He'd barely eat, only eating when Kirishima would get fed up enough to literally shove food down his throat.

The only thing on his mind was you and you only. Your future, your future kids, how you'd look if you aged. Your smile lingered in his brain every time it could to the point where all he could do was curl up and sob, wishing you were here and alive.

He wanted to see you again. He needed to see you again.

And so, he did.

#ao3 #fanfic #my writing #bnha #anime #oneshot #mha #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #angst #heavy angst #tw death #pro hero bakugo x reader #dead reader #sad brain rot

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issybee06 · 2 months

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Discombobulated

(adj.) emotionally confused or uncertain

……………………….…………………………………………………

The mission wasn't supposed to go this way. It was a B-ranked mission that took the two teams four days in the middle of the Earth country to complete, and they were just on their way home.

Kakashi should have foreseen this somehow, despite being just a Chunin with no Dōjutsu to see into the future. He still should have been prepared.

They all should have.

The enemy had strung on them when they were at their lowest, chakra exhausted from a previous battle.

Kakashi hadn't seen the man grab you, nor had he seen the blade covered in poison being stabbed into you, all he saw was the expression of pure terror Rin had on her face as she witnessed the scene.

He heard though, the screams of Kushina as she raced to you. The cried of Gai as Genma held him back from running after his sensei. Minatos calls to head to the cottage a mile back.

Now here he was, standing in the doorway of the Cottage as Rin and Kushina frantically tried to save you.

Obito, Genma, and Gai sat on the porch, eyes trained forward in horror. If you died… you'd be the first friend any of them had lost.

Kakashi, he didn't turn away. He watched as Rin, with tears streaming down her face, dug through all her medical bags searching for her antidotes.

He watched as Kushina grabbed a kunai to cut open your shirt and sports bra, and he watched as Minato held your hair back as you leaned over the shitty old kitchen table to throw up your own blood.

Your face, sweaty and flushed from the fever that was beginning to rise. Your pretty eyes that he had caught himself looking at were blinking tiredly. Your hair was wet, stuck to your face and knotted around your head.

Kakashi couldnt look away.

You were still pretty, he thought. Even if you looked like death.

Minato had to force him, pulling him away from the scene as Kushina pulled the fabric from your front, exposing the wound.

“You don't want to see this.”

Good Minato, who despite dealing with three kids in the middle of the war, still tried to keep them somewhat pure from the horrors of this world.

Kakashi, as soon as he turned away, knew you were going to die.

You had been insignificant to him for most of your lives, just another face in the classroom you two had shares.

You were nice, he knew that, but being nice got people killed and he was certain you'd die if you ever got into a battle. Back in the academy, you were quiet, nice, and friendly but insignificant to him.

You had changed since he had graduated before you, and left you to grow.

You turned into a fighter, not as good as Gai but you were above average. You fought with everything, all you had and it impressed Kakashi how much you grew.

Being Kushinas student must have done you some good, because you also held a fire similar to hers.

Maybe that’s why you had rushed to Genma, fighting the enemy that had knocked him out.

Maybe that’s why you had cut the man’s face, scarring him.

Maybe that’s why you were grab by your throat, held down and stabbed with the poison covered blade.

Maybe it was because now you were dying on a rotting table inside of an abandoned cottage in enemy woods.

Maybe it was because you were stupid, rushing to save your friend with no consideration for your life.

Maybe that's why he had grown to love you more than a teammate.

You used to be so insignificant in his life, but now you were everywhere.

*first post, might make this a series!*

#hatake kakashi x reader #kakashi x reader #naruto #naruto shippuden #minato namikaze #kushina uzumaki #x reader #obito uchiha #rin nohara #angst #genma shiranui #might gai #heavy angst #tw blood #kakashi hatake x reader

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c-rose2081 · 1 month

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Trying to scream, but what’s the use?

The Rose girls have been through a lot, but I do love some good angst.

Audrey tries to help Ariana as best she can; to set the right example and be the person in her cousins life who she herself wanted growing up. But there’s still a lot of scars she’s dealing with, both with her own family and from what happened with the scepter. It still haunts her and probably always will. Audrey’s done all she can to repent for her mistakes, building new bridges and mending her broken self with her bare hands. But how can she ever be the person her cousin needs most when she never had someone like that in her own life?

For Ariana, the wounds are still so fresh that they’re bleeding. Her parents hold her new baby brother Adonis to the sun, a god among men, casting a dark shadow across her already bruised heart and leaving her abandoned and hurting to the point of violence. She struggles with emotional regulation and crushing loneliness, pacing the lengths of the cage she’s grown up in, growing closer and closer to madness every day. She’s angry, aggressive and hateful, but also confused and scared; just a child who’s been left so far in the dark that she’s blind. Ariana can try to let people in, she can try to find the softness that is buried deep in her bettered soul, but the fear of being hurt is just too much most of the time and she refuses to open up.

Audrey tries her best to be Ariana’s support, but it’s not always successful and is sometimes to her own detriment. But she refuses to abandon her cousin who’s lost everything. Audrey won’t let what happened to her happen again…she’ll be there this time. No matter what.

#disney descendants #audrey descendants #princess ariana rose #angst #digital art #concept art #disney #character art #fanart #illustration #original character #character design #art #tw heavy topics #Spotify

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fungifanart · 3 months

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Deserted

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, male reader, yuu!reader

CW: Heavy angst/whump, slight suicidal ideation

Word count: 1K

Notes: Did you guys know that Leona is my favorite character? (Also, @oleilaa got mad at me when I didn't tag them in my last Leona-related fic)

-------------------------------------------------------

Somehow, Leona knew that this is how it would all end for him.

Trudging alone across a barren desert, the hot sand slowly burning the bottoms of his bare feet beyond repair, his once proud and well-maintained mane now a rat's nest caked with more sand.

He turns his dry eyes up towards the horizon, hoping to see even a mirage of an oasis just to revel in the illusion of hope, but his mind won't even grant him that much. So he lowers his gaze back to the ground, he doesn't have a destination in mind anyway.

Should he go back to his home? What home? His "home" is nothing more than a large building full of people who hate him and reminders of all of his failures and shortcomings. In that sense, his home is just one big prison.

And he'd rather die than go back there.

So he keeps walking. In no definite direction. All while his hunger and thirst eat away at his insides and the harsh sunlight beats down on him from above.

This must be punishment for the Spelldrive tournament. The karma for his scheming, sabotage and lashing out has finally caught up. And it's going to be the death of him.

After what feels like hours of painful walking with no end in sight, Leona's legs finally give out. Leaving him no other option but to use his hands to drag himself across the sand on his stomach.

This is unequivocally the lowest Leona's ever felt: Aimlessly dragging himself across a desert he feels no greater than a grain of sand in.

However, just as Leona's arms are beginning to give out as well, he hears the sound of light footsteps approaching and looks up to see a familiar-looking face crouching down in front of him and extending a helping hand. Though, his eyes are too dry and tired to recognize who it is.

A few seconds of blinking later, his eyes finally adjust enough to fully make out the person's face, recognizing him as the prefect of Ramshackle dorm who's smiling like nothing is wrong as he holds out his hand.

Leona's eyes go unfocused again as he questions how he came to be here and, more importantly, why he's reaching out to him now.

Why is the Prefect reaching out to Leona: The man who put him through so much, almost taking his life in the process, and used him as a simple pawn on a chessboard before leaving him by the wayside?

Does he...really forgive him despite everything?

One more look at the Prefect's comforting smile and still outstretched hand gives him his answer: The sun positioned perfectly behind the other man's head to create a halo around it, giving him the look of a saint.

And that's what he is to Leona.

A saint.

A savior.

An angel.

His angel.

Leona finally musters the strength to reach out and take the Prefect’s hand...only for cracks in his skin and the color of sand to quickly spread all over the Prefect’s body, starting from where Leona had taken his hand.

Leona frantically lets go of the Prefect, but it's already too late. In the Prefect’s place stands a sand sculpture of him, still holding out its hand with a no longer comforting smile, which then crumbles into another pile of sand, indistinguishable from the rest surrounding him.

His body forces out whatever water it has left in the form of tears as the realization hits him.

He was a fool to have hope.

This is who he is.

Destroying things, reducing them to sand no matter what or who they are, is all that he's good for.

Who's to say that this entire desert isn't his handiwork as well?

His despairing cries echo over the area as the wind picks up, sweeping up the Prefect’s remains into a sandstorm that swirls around him almost mockingly.

Leona's body curls itself into a ball as his cries continue, growing more labored as sand invades his mouth and throat, drying them out and causing him to cough more than cry, wishing that his signature spell worked on himself as well.

The wind howls in his ears as this happens and he swears he can almost make out the sound of malicious laughter at such a pitiful display.

This new torture goes on for what may well be hours or even days for all Leona knows. He has to keep his eyes closed to shield from the sand and the sandstorm is blocking his view of the sun regardless.

This is truly his personal hell.

However, an unknown amount of time later, the laughter dies down before completely disappearing, taking the sandstorm with it with what sounds like a defeated sigh.

Leona opens his eyes, blinking the sand out of them as a more grounded set of footsteps than before approaches and he feels a hand take his and lift him up onto his feet, which suddenly feel normal again. In fact, everything about him feels normal again!

Looking at his savior, Leona is shocked to see the Prefect once again. However, his face bears much more mixed emotions than before, the forefront of which being...pity.

"I can't stay mad at you." He says with a sigh while turning away, "So I'm giving you one chance to wake up and get out of my sight."

Leona doesn't move or say anything, still too surprised over this development to even attempt waking up from this apparent dream.

A few seconds pass and the Prefect looks back at him with an incredibly frustrated expression, "Didn’t you hear me?!" He says before winding up to slap him.

"WAKE UP!!!"

The moment the Prefect’s hand connects with Leona's face is when he jolts awake, sitting up in his bed in Savannaclaw, with the only remnants of what he'd experienced being a dry feeling in his throat and a dull pain on his cheek.

#why is this mushroom writing fanfics?#twisted wonderland #twst leona #twst #leona kingscholar #twst mc #twst yuu #angst #heavy angst #tw sui ideation #twst x reader #twst x male reader #leona x reader

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electrozeistyking · 1 month

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The One Time It Wasn't Fine.

"Chemicals land up exploding in his face, and despite countless reminders to put his goggles on in the past (because it’s been fine before, why wouldn’t it be now?), it lands up taking his eyesight.

"He’s already partly used to it by the time Rapunzel sees him again."

#blind varian au #as i promised - angst surrounding this au #tangled au #tts varian #tangled the series #tangled varian #tw injury #for my peeps who need that tagged #ask to tag #i'm not insensitive i'm just stupid #and doing my best <:3 #zeisty’s heavy hitters #also if this isn't telling as to what point in the au this would take place in during the series I don't know what is

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2chopsticks2eyes · 3 days

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(Part Two)

This is part two of a multiple part series, please be sure to start from part one!

(Part One) | (Part Two)

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Angst, (Smut), (Fluff)

Word Count (all parts): ~21.8k | AO3

Summary: You were penniless and working tirelessly at a seedy club when you were assaulted. As soon as you resigned yourself to your fate, Lee Minho saved you, albeit grudgingly. You received treatment and you didn’t have to pay them a dime under one condition: You must be confined to his home for the remainder of your recovery.

Author’s Note:

***IMPORTANT!!!*** THIS STORY IS FILLED WITH TRIGGER WARNINGS. THIS SECOND PART DOES NOT CONTAIN THOSE TRIGGERS, BUT IT IS IMPLIED AND REFERENCED. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ TAGS AND WARNINGS AT BEGINNING OF PART ONE BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The overall plot line was based off a recommendation from @linoots from Tumblr (I received permission from them to write this type of content)

(I’ve missed you all dearly. So sorry it’s taken so long 🥺)

__________________________________________

You silently watched as the doctor removed the IV that had been pumping fluids into your body for the past 48 hours and you rubbed the uncomfortable bandage he replaced it with.

You refused to make eye contact with him. In fact, you did not look or talk to anybody since you woke up in that same home-hospital room you had grown accustomed to. Not Chris, not Felix, and definitely not Minho.

You were a shell of your former self and you didn’t know if you were upset or relieved that you were revived. You didn’t know what to make of it. But now, there was one emotion you knew that burned brighter than your numbness.

Anger.

You couldn’t quite believe Felix’s words when he said that Minho was the one who came to your rescue… again…

But that was preposterous. The bastard probably told the younger man to say that to make himself look better… Whatever, fuck it all.

You allowed yourself to be led back to your room to get some rest. However, when Felix left and Minho walked in, you fortified your walls even further. You felt your face turn sour with each passing moment without even looking at the man and you rolled over in bed so your back was facing him.

There was a long pause of silence that seemed to drag on for hours.

You finally heard a long sigh and then the sound of him plopping down into the chair by your bed. “You know…” He started, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “There’s a reason I bothered to do all of this...”

You tried your hardest to ignore him, but you couldn’t control the fact that his words piqued your interest, your ears already tuned-in to his velvety voice.

“Not just this time, but… the reason I brought you here in the first place.” After a moment of silence, he realized you weren’t going to respond, so he huffed in frustration. “Forget it.”

You suddenly heard the door open and you peered over your shoulder. Without turning to face you, he blankly said, “You are now required to have 24/7 supervision, congratulations.”

And with that, the man walked out while Felix walked in, a meek smile on his face and hands full with baked goods.

“In the mood for cookies?” You sighed and just returned to your side as you balled up in a mess of frustration and confusion under the covers, mind still tingling with the thought of what Minho was going to say.

__________________________________________

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Felix. I’m a grown woman.”

Felix just huffed, obviously sick and tired of your complaints. “You know why it’s this way, sweetie. Don’t blame me for doing my job.”

The topic was a constant now. He was obviously there for your physical therapy, but he was also everywhere else. You loved the man, you did, but there is only so much time you could stand without a little alone time!

You wanted to watch TV? He was there. You wanted to nap? He was there. You couldn’t even go to the bathroom without having to leave the door open so he ‘has access to you at all times’. Thank god he stayed outside while you did your business…

After a week of this bullshit, you decided to do something about it…

Throughout your exploration of the house, you found some rooms with names on them. Evidently the ones that Minho once said were strictly prohibited. A couple of the rooms had names you were completely unfamiliar with, but others, you remembered well. Chan, Felix, Jisung, Seungmin, Jeongin, and finally some large double-doors with the initials L.M.

Lee Minho.

The man had supposedly been ‘out on business’ the entire week, but you knew for sure he had come back today with all of the ruckus of the house staff.

So, when you were positive that Felix had finally passed out on the sofa in your room for the night, you, as quietly as humanly possible, snuck out of the room and tip-toed down the hallway and downstairs to the doors you knew by heart now.

The room was surprisingly extremely secluded and you thanked the heavens because you knew for sure you wouldn’t be able to keep cool once he was in sight. You were fully prepared to bang your fist all the way through Minho’s door to meet the man himself if that’s what it took, but as you raised your fist to knock, the door suddenly opened.

Well… shit…

You really didn’t want to admit it, you really didn’t, but… the sight before you was absolutely, without a doubt, mouth watering. He looked just as surprised as you, but you found yourself focused on something other than his face for once…

The man was completely shirtless, pajama pants riding low on his hips and revealing the prominent V of his abdomen. Speaking of abdomen, the dude was of course ripped. Well, maybe not Dr. Chris (Or Christopher, or Chan, or what the fuck ever you want to call him) kind of ripped, but enough to make your eyes bulge out and glue themselves to every inch of impeccably toned abs and pecs.

And another thing that stood out in particular was the sleeve of tattoos twisting and swirling around the upper half of his right arm. You had only seen him in button-ups thus far and, even if he rolled up his sleeves, you somehow hadn’t ever noticed it. You were usually hyper-focused on his face, but at that moment, all you could see was the vast amount of skin on display.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” His stern words snapped you back to reality and you had to rapidly blink to regain a semblance of consciousness.

What am I doing? You shivered and grimaced at yourself for your intrusive thoughts before meeting his eyes.

“Uh-uhh I–” You halted your words when you noticed he was clutching something on his side. Curiosity got the better of you and you peered around his towering frame to see a soiled and basically useless bandage dripping with blood. “Holy shit! Are you alright?!” You said stepping towards him instinctively, catching yourself once he tensed and stepped back, correcting his posture as if to defend himself.

Psh, what could you possibly do to him? You couldn’t even defend yourself…

He glanced at the cloth he was currently pressing to his side and made a disgruntled noise. “I’m fine.” He said with a curt and slightly annoyed huff. “Why don’t you have anyone watching you right now?” He grumbled, obviously frustrated as he looked around behind you in search of your babysitter.

You furrowed your brows, still peeved but also worried about the still-bleeding wound on his side. “I had to sneak away because I don’t necessarily appreciate being babysat like a fucking child! Now you need to refresh that bandage before it gets infected!” You borderline shouted.

You could almost feel the daggers he shot at you with his eyes pierce through your flesh. “I said I’m fine! Now go back to be– Hey!”

You cut his sentence off short when you saw a first aid kit that looked like it had been through war and back on a small table behind him before you marched your way in, not giving two flying fucks that you were invading his room. “Get your ass in here, we need to clean you up first.” You demanded, collecting the kit and marching into what looked like the ensuite, completely ignoring his protests.

Jesus, is this much luxury even necessary? You thought as you passed through his behemoth of a room. Gray, white, and covered in smooth marble and chandeliers, it housed all of the amenities to be considered its own wing of the house. The gray material of the sofa and bed looked so soft and luxurious you were tempted to walk over and run your fingers along them. But that would have to wait.

He slammed his bedroom door shut with a huff and turned around. “You can’t just–!” You ignored him as you strolled into the bathroom (Still unnecessarily gorgeous).

“Just get your ass in here and sit!” You shouted from the bathroom. When you saw him stop in the doorway and glare at you, you just proceeded to open the first-aid kit and then pointed at the black and white marble countertop next to the sink. “Sit.”

He rolled his eyes before squeezing them shut and breathing out a slow sigh. “You… You’re a pain in my ass.” He groaned before dragging his feet over to you and hopping up to sit on the counter like you asked. If you hadn’t been right in front of him, you would have almost missed the slight hiss of pain he breathed through clenched teeth.

Why you had felt a pang of sympathy for the man, you had no clue.

He watched you apprehensively as you washed your hands and moved to face him. A brief moment of awkward silence had permeated the air before you tentatively raised your hands to remove the soiled bandage.

Minho visibly stiffened, but he made no move to stop you as your shaky fingers slowly peeled back the gauze.

Holy shit. That was 100% unmistakably a bullet wound.

Your mind was automatically transported back to that first night where you witnessed this guy casually gun down those men, effectively splattering five different brains on the fresh snow without even batting an eyelash. Who the fuck is Lee Minho? And what all was he capable of?

“If you’re going to just stand there and stare, then kindly leave me the fuck alone.” His gruff voice made you jump slightly as you were pulled from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat as you proceeded to throw away the red-stained dressing. You avoided his eyes as you grabbed the saline solution and a towel, still feeling his eyes bore into you with every movement.

However, you froze as you held the saline up to the mangled skin. “U-um… Did you take out—?”

“Yes, I already removed the bullet. Get on with it.”

Your stomach churned at his affirmation of the cause of injury, but you were getting sick and tired of his assholery as you glared up at his blackened eyes. “You know, a little gratitude goes a long way, shithead.”

He seemed stunned for a moment, looking at you as if you had gone crazy before returning to his deadly glower. “Look here, Tinkerbell—“ You bristled at that stupid-ass name again… “YOU’RE the one that barged in here. YOU’RE the one who has been a pain in my ass ever since you got here. So, no, I won’t give ‘gratitude’ where it’s not deserved. Plus, you’re the one to talk…” He murmured the last bit, but you still clearly heard him.

“Then why bother saving me in the first place?!” You basically screamed at him.

Silence and a shocked disposition was all you got in return.

“I had nothing to live for anyway, so why bother?! You could have just as easily ignored what was happening and went on your merry fucking way. Could have left me behind that dumpster to freeze and bleed to death so you wouldn’t have to deal with this ‘pain in the ass’. Could have also left me alone to OD and suffocate on my own vomit the other day. So what gives?” You finished with a seething remark while gesturing to yourself.

His face was stark blank. “You want to know why I saved you?” He said through gritted teeth. You just responded with a curt nod. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before his expression morphed into something more solemn. It seemed like he was having an internal battle before he began to speak. He finally sighed and leaned his head back against the wall mirror with closed eyes. “I once… I had a cousin, one that was very close to me. I would always be overbearing and protective and she would always tell me to stop babying her.”

He chuckled fondly as he reminisced and you found yourself latching onto his every word. You chalked it up to the fact that you were finally learning something about this enigmatic man and this whole fucked up situation.

“Anyway, as we got older and I got busier, I began giving her more space. She was becoming a woman and I accepted the fact that she could begin to take care of herself.” He paused, but considering the faintest waver in his voice and his dry swallow, it didn’t sound like it was because he was waiting for a response… “I thought she was safe… but there were… others… vile pigs that knew how close she was to me…”

Another beat of silence and you watched his face slowly morph from sorrow to unbridled rage.

“I found her in almost the exact way I found you…” His words felt like a punch to the gut and painful images flooded your mind as you swallowed the bile that rose to your chest. “But, in her case, the scum that had… done that to her had already fled and I… I couldn’t save—” He squeezed his eyes tighter and his jaw clenched hard around the emotions before they could spill out.

You both knew he didn’t need to finish that sentence.

You felt the numbness that had taken over your soul begin to crack once again at the feeling of sympathy towards his cousin, and that shit scared you like none other.

“So, yeah. You might be a raging bitch and I might be a pretentious motherfucker. But even so, I couldn’t just leave you… I just couldn’t…” You felt something churn in your gut and you furrowed your brows in frustration as to what it was. You watched him take a deep breath and sit up a bit straighter. “So, with that being said, I can’t just allow you to throw away everything you’ve worked for so far.”

As if indicating that he had enough of the back-and-forth, he attempted to grab the saline bottle from your hand, only to be met with adamant resistance. You gently pushed his hand away (thankfully without any struggle) and brought the saline and towel up to his ever-bleeding wound that was dripping down to the puddle it created, causing a concerning amount of deep crimson to flood the marble countertop.

You silently flushed the deep cavern with the solution until you deemed it was properly cleaned before moving on to the peroxide. “This might sting a bit…” You warned as you watched his jaw clench. He closed his eyes as you disinfected it and you wondered how he could keep so cool after having a bullet plunged into his side.

Once he was properly cleaned and covered in antibiotic ointment, you picked up the gauze and searched for some tape. Your eyes widened as he wordlessly moved to hand you a long compression wrap.

You emitted a noise that sounded somewhat like a sputtering engine and your face flushed as you saw his suppressed smirk. To wrap that thing around him, you would have to run your hands all over his muscled torso… fuck.

“Something the matter?” He lilted in that nonchalant, annoying timbre. Teasing. “If you don–”

“It’s fine!” You cut him off, maybe a bit too loudly as you refused to make eye contact. “It’s just… just… don’t you have any dressing tape?” You said as you coincidentally eyed his well-defined pecs and abs.

He shrugged. “Nope. Not with me anyway. I just have this—“ He said while waving the fabric in front of your face again with a challenging brow lifted.

You nervously chuckled and squeaked out, “O-okay… Stand up…” You instantly felt goosebumps rise all over your flesh as he hopped off the counter, keeping the gauze pressed to his wound, and stepped a bit too close for a man you barely even knew. Deep breaths, you can do this…

“Hey…” You slowly raised your eyes to meet his own at the sound of the softer change in his tone. He took the tiniest step back to make it easier for him to look you in the eyes. “If you're uncomfortable… I mean… I’m not…” You don’t think you had ever seen him struggle so much with his words. He sighed and closed his eyes before sadly looking at you again. “You have nothing to be afraid of with me… I wouldn’t even think of…” He huffed and shook his head in disgust as he seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing that had plagued you day and night since arriving here.

Before he could even drive his point home, you gently laid your hand on his shoulder, causing his gaze to return to you. “I know…” You replied. “You hardly scare me, Lee Minho.” You teased with a wry smile that even surprised you.

His disturbed face was slowly replaced with a pleasantly surprised grin similar to your own. You watched with feigned mockery as he raised the wrapping once again. “Then prove it, Tink.” You just scoffed and rolled your eyes at the shortened version of his unrelenting name for you and snatched the elastic cloth from his hand.

“Fine.” You huffed defiantly before looking at his abdomen once again. You tentatively pressed the end of the wrap against his heated skin that made you blush. You could feel him watching you and you suddenly felt like hiding.

You wrapped the bandage over several times, feeling yourself tense up every time you touched his bare skin, and secured it tightly once you were finished. “O—“ Your voice cracked when you tried to speak and your face heated as you cleared your throat. “Okay, you’re finished…”

You wouldn’t look him in the eyes, how could you after you basically forced him to let you run your hands all over his tan, muscular, and absolutely gorgeous skin?

“W—“ He hesitated and, despite yourself, you found your eyes instinctively seeking his own out to somehow read the words through his dark irises. You found he was searching your eyes as well with pursed lips before he looked away and cleared his throat as well. “Thank you.”

Huh?

“Channie-hyung wasn’t available when I returned home so I tried to take care of it myself. I guess my half-assed effort didn’t do much, huh?” He chuckled and looked back at you with a meek smile.

Who the fuck is this man and where did Lee Minho go?

He nervously chuckled and you realized you’d been staring at the man far too long. You took a deep breath and stepped back. “Well, I kind of owed it to you now, didn’t I?” You said it lightheartedly, but he furrowed his brows.

“You don’t ever have to owe me anything.”

You arched a brow, but he just turned and began packing away the first aid kit again. You watched his back, trying to remember why you came to his room in the first place. “Minho?”

He stilled his movements.

“What do you even do?” He turned and arched a brow at you and you rolled your eyes, stepping forward next to him to lean against the counter. “Like, you are obviously loaded…” You said gesturing to your luxurious surroundings. “You have a full staff with a doctor to patch up nasty bullet holes like this and god knows what else…” You both looked at his bandage. “And not to mention the bullets you cleared through those guys’ heads without even blinking an eye that night…”

He bit his lip and you followed the action with your eyes. You instinctively wet your own lips. After he was done staring at the marble countertop for an unnecessarily lengthy amount of time, he hesitantly turned his body to face you.

“You could say I sort of run something like a… secret organization?” He said tentatively like it was a question unto himself and you furrowed your brows.

You squinted skeptically at him. “So… you're telling me—“ Is that worry on his face? “—that you're a secret agent? Like a spy?” You looked at him in disbelief.

He sputtered a restrained laugh and looked at you with a suppressed smile. “I suppose you could say I’m like a spy.”

“LIKE a spy?”

He looked up like he was deliberating. “Sure. Like a spy.”

“But not actually a spy?”

He groaned at your questioning and ran a hand through his messy hair. Come to think of it, this is the most dressed-down look you’d seen on him. Gone were the button-ups and slacks, now replaced by sweats and a compression wrap over his shirtless body.

He stood straight and crossed his arms, obviously ready for the conversation to be over. “Does it matter? Look, it’s already really late and Yongbok will panic if he realizes you ran off.”

Oh shit, that’s right. That’s the whole reason you were even there. In Minho’s bathroom. Standing closely to him. With the man half naked and you in your flimsy, silk nightwear. Your peaked nipples seemed suddenly way more apparent as you crossed your arms over your chest. You rapidly blinked as if suddenly waking up and quickly stepped back.

“I-I wanted to ask you something…” He arched his brow and you continued. “Can you please call off the reinforcements? I know I made a bad decision and all, but I will honestly go crazy if I have to use the bathroom with the door open one more time.” You found yourself begging rather than demanding like you had initially intended.

Why, though?

He looked hesitant and you quickly added, “I don’t even mean all of the time! Like, I’ll keep my bedroom door open so he can check up on me and he can even watch me secretly while I’m around the house, I just want at least a little sense of privacy!”

You knew you sounded like a pathetic child, but you had resigned yourself to that fate as soon as you had to take a massive, violent shit earlier that day and you knew Felix had heard everything from the other room. Without any doors to create that sweet, sweet sound barrier? Ugh… You were still mortified to look at him.

You silently watched him with imploring eyes as he tiredly rubbed his brow. “You…” You widened your eyes with a hopeful energy pulsing through them, hoping to portray as such as he looked into your pleading eyes. He sighed. “I suppose those terms are fair…” You lit up like a Christmas tree before he raised a finger. “BUT, if you are EVER alone ANYWHERE, you need to let him know where you are and give him regular updates on your whereabouts to let him know if you are okay. Okay?”

You vehemently nodded your head and perked up. “Thank GOD!”

He smirked and crossed his arms again. “I think I like you calling me a god. Have I upgraded from a narcissistic asshole?” He tilted his head with raised brows and you were, once again, reminded how gorgeous this man really was.

You rolled your eyes and went to shove his shoulder, but before you could even touch him, he grabbed your wrist in the blink of an eye. For some reason, you both looked surprised as he froze with your wrist in his hand from less than a foot away. Your heart was racing and you chalked it up to being from fear of someone grabbing you.

But why did that conclusion not feel quite right…?

Before you could ponder it, he dropped your arm and quickly stepped away. “Fuck. I-I’m sorry.” He shook his head and you watched worry swirl in his eyes.

No…

No, you weren’t afraid of this man. You don’t know why, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you intentionally. Even after everything… “It was just instinct! I swear! I would never intend to—“

“I know, Minho.” You cut off his panicking, but his brows gave away his lingering concern. “I guess I’m just going to have to take your word for it on the whole spy thing, though, because those were super fast reflexes.” You chuckled to ease the tension and his face softened slightly.

It was silent for a moment and he cleared his throat again. “Well, I should walk you back to your room, it’s late and I’ve had… a very long few days.”

You took a large breath and promptly left the bathroom. “I’m perfectly fine on my own, you know?” There’s that twinge of irritation again…

”I know, I know. But if Yongbok is awake, I want to be able to ease his worries and update him on his role in taking care of you.

Taking care of…

Not treating, not monitoring. Taking care of. You supposed that’s what they were doing, huh? Felix was, in fact, doing much more than treating or monitoring. He waited on you hand and foot and you were being a bitch about it. You made a promise to yourself right then and there to let him know as soon as possible how much you appreciated his care and apologize for your behavior.

You nodded, both to yourself and to Minho’s reasoning before making your way back to your room with the mysterious and intriguing man just a few steps behind you.

__________________________________________

Felix was a saint. Not only did he forgive you when you apologized, but he went as far to say it was his fault for being overbearing. Which was obviously preposterous.

With your new parameters in effect, Felix decided to leave the estate shortly, before quickly returning with gifts for you. Among them were several jigsaw puzzles and you perked up at the sight of them. Over time, you had come to really appreciate those puzzles. So much so that you had already finished all of the ones currently at the estate, strangely enough. All kinds of different collections displayed on random tables throughout the mansion.

Felix was true to his word and gave you your space, only briefly giving you regular check-ups as you sat in one of the many living rooms that giant freaking place held and began the therapeutic work of putting together an adorable puzzle of a litter of kittens.

You would love to have cats…

When a sudden ruckus erupted down the hall, you furrowed your brows and looked behind you to the source. Down the corridor you saw the same seven men that you had seen regularly around the house (obviously minus Felix) dressed in what looked like active-wear gathering around the front entryway.

The men never approached you, but that was most likely because you tried to make yourself scarce once you saw one of them. Maybe Dr. Chris, Felix, and Minho you trusted, but you didn’t know those other men and it made you sick to your stomach thinking of being alone with a stranger without one of those three men accompanying you.

”Okay, guys, this is just routine training today, so no fire hazards, alright Hyunjin?” You heard Minho announce to the group.

Training? Like their super-secret-spy type training?

You felt yourself stand and march over to them without even formulating what you were doing. Who needs rational thought anyway?

If you were remembering correctly, the one named Jeongin spotted you first with a look of surprise. “Come. On. Hyuuung. We need to be prepared for anyth—“ Jeongin harshly elbowed the one who you assumed was Hyunjin and quickly spoke up.

’Hy-Mr. Lee, sir. I think someone is here for you…” He nodded a bow to you and you returned it, giving a meek smile to the group before meeting Minho’s gaze.

He looked slightly surprised before giving you… was that a smile? No, surely not…

You cleared your throat as Felix made his way over with hurried steps and a worried expression. You, then, glanced over at the other men who had become quiet as death upon you stepping up next to Minho. You scanned over them before slightly bowing. “Um… Good morning…” You introduced yourself before hearing a small ‘oh’ from the man beside you. You turned your head as he stepped forward and turned to face you again.

”I guess I haven’t really introduced them all to you yet… These are my… This is my inner circle.” He hesitated and turned to gesture to each of them. “Some I’m sure you already know. Like Channie-Hyung, Yongbok, and Jisung.” The three nodded politely with soft smiles. “But to formally introduce you to the others, this is Changbin…” The shorter, muscular man offered a shy smile. “Hyunjin…” Your eyebrows raise at the incredibly handsome man as his full lips formed a smile as well. “Seungmin…”

”Nice to formally meet you.” He said with an amused grin and you nervously chuckled as you informed him likewise.

”Then there’s our maknae, Jeonginnie.” Hyunjin cooed at the youngest when he also gave a shy smile and he received a death-glare in return.

All of the men remained incredibly polite, bowing their heads when introduced and maintaining their distance. Shit, they probably already know everything about you and your situation… especially considering the fact that no one asked you who you were or why you were there.

You guessed you understood and you were actually somewhat grateful. It saved you from having to explain it yourself and relive all of the pain again…

”It’s very nice to meet you all.” You gave the men a polite smile before turning to Minho again. You were on a mission. “Minho, can I please come train with you guys?”

You could hear a pin drop with how silent the room got. “You… you want to train?” You gave a determined nod before slumping your shoulders at his shake of the head. “No. No way.”

“What?! Why?!”

”Um, I think it’s best we head out first. We will meet you there sir.” The youngest quickly relayed before walking out the front door with the other men in tow, Felix quickly retreating to some other corner of the estate.

After watching the mass leave, you fixed your glare on Minho’s resolute expression. “Not only are you not employed by me, but you also have an injured arm—“

”It could be good therapy for me! And I can even raise it horizontally now!” You demonstrated the movement with gritted teeth, trying to hide the pain, and he responded with an unimpressed visage.

“You are already receiving therapy and you would just be a liability. So, no. End of discussion.”

A liability? Ouch.

You felt anger rise up in you and you took a step near him, his features remaining stone-cold. “You… You’re a… ugh!” You couldn’t even muster up the will to call him an asshole anymore. What the fuck was WRONG with you?

With the lack of anything better to say, you furiously stomped away up to your bedroom to fume in private, but not without flipping him off the entire way there.

__________________________________________

“Knock knock, love.” Felix announced before stepping through your open doorway. It hadn’t been long since you petulantly curled up on the plush armchair by your window to angrily watch the rain outside.

Of course it would rain. Apparently fate had decided to mock you as if you were an actress in some sort of sad music video. Surely Felix would agree.

You watched with hesitancy as he held out his hand to you. “Follow me.” He said calmly with a smile. “I want to show you a new room.” You perked up at that notion. You had been running out of places to explore recently and the prospect of seeing something new was like a kid going to a playground.

You took his hand and allowed him to lead you to one of the many locked double-doors on the estate. What you saw made you gasp in awe. Bookshelves upon bookshelves lined the walls of a massive, two-storied library that was stocked to max capacity with what looked like brand new books as well as older than hell pieces of literature. All surrounding a cozy living area with couches, armchairs, and even a fireplace.

”Minho-hyung must really trust you to let me show you this. These books mean a great deal to him and many of them are extremely fragile as well.” He trusts me? You thought as you watched Felix’s eyes widen. “I-I mean Mr. Lee…”

You furrowed your brows and turned to him. “Why do you do that?” You asked and he just blinked at you with worry written on his features.

”D-do what?”

Playing dumb, are we? “That! Those other guys do it too! Why don’t you just call him Hyung? You all are obviously close. Why try to hide it?”

Felix nervously rubbed the side of his neck and looked down. “It’s not like we are trying to hide it, necessarily. We are just trained to remain professional. It’s just much harder when we are all home and much more relaxed.”

You nodded your head in understanding. “But why do you try to hide it with me? I’m not exactly here on business.” You arched your brow and he smiled sweetly.

”It…” He seemed hesitant to speak until he sighed and lowered his head. “If we keep things professional with you, it might be easier when we have to see you go…” You were taken aback. Easier? Is he saying they would miss you? Why? You were a nobody, and you were honestly kind of a bitch. No, that can’t be it.

”What do you mean by easier?”

He seemed confused by your question. “When you spend so much time with someone, it’s easy to get attached. Even the coldest heart can find warmth in someone they find trustworthy and important.”

Trustworthy? Important? You? What in the world did you do to earn those titles?

Felix must have read the disbelief on your face because he continued. “You and I have spent a lot of time together over the past months. I’ve learned a lot about you and your habits.” You blushed. He most definitely knows a lot about you. He’s seen a lot too. “I know you are a good person. I have an eye for these things.”

He winked at you and you huffed a chuckle.

“And Minho-hyung knows you are a good person too. He just has a different way of… expressing his feelings.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “No, it’s true! We discuss you and your progress often and the kind of leniency he gives you in this place is unheard of for anyone other than our circle. Even some of the house staff haven’t been allowed in some of these rooms you’ve seen.”

What on god’s green earth did you say to them to trust you? I mean, of course they can trust you. You bear no ill will toward any of them, not seriously anyway. But why do they think so? Felix could definitely see the confusion on your face when he gently placed a hand on your upper back and guided you two further into the treasure-trove of books.

“Don’t think about it too much, love. Just know that everything we do, we do out of good and pure intentions.”

You definitely thought about it too much.

__________________________________________

You were determined.

You were going to get out of that damned house, even if just for a minute, whether he liked it or not. By exploring the house, you ended up finding a board room, like true business-official type shit. A long table surrounded by office chairs and even a projector screen. And with a small tip from Felix, you knew they all happened to have a meeting that morning.

An actual business meeting. Not the one including half-naked women this time.

So, after gearing up in some serious workout attire, you marched yourself to that exact room, not even bothering to knock. You were on a mission. ”Lee Minho, I demand to be included in your training. I won’t take no for an answer!”

His were the first eyes you seeked out when you entered the room and you willed yourself to not back down.

You, then, remembered the presence of the other seven men in the room and how silent everyone had become. It was as if they thought, if they move even slightly, all hell would break loose. And by looking at Minho’s facial expression, they might have good reason to think as such.

”I. Said. NO. Now please see your way out. As you can see, we are clearly busy.” You were pissed, no, more than pissed, but you squared your shoulders.

However, before you could utter a word, Jisung spoke up. “Hyung. I think we should let her. She is obviously passionate about it.” Minho glared at his friend and then back at you. He was silent for a moment, as if he was deliberating, before speaking again.

”No.”

”FUCKING HELL, MAN! I have been sitting on my ass here for months now for a reason I’m sure everyone here already knows about—!“ You watched guilty expressions color the room. “—and now that I’m getting better, you’re not going to help me defend myself if something like that happens again?” You witnessed his eyes widen as a traitorous tear fell down your cheek. “Fuck. You. Lee Minho!”

Resilience be damned, you were itching to escape that suffocating room and the problem within it. You stormed away once more with a harsh slam of the door and a burning fire inside you fueled by hate and anger.

Fuck this.

__________________________________________

You felt a plop on the couch next to you and you jolted in place with a tiny squeak.

After the meeting room fiasco, you had been spending all of your time in the library. You were so immersed in your book that you didn’t even realize there was another presence in the room.

With a quick whip of the head and an incredulous look on your face, you watched Minho smirk next to you in amusement. “For someone who is super quick with their tongue, you sure are slow with everything else.” He chuckled as you came down from your fright and you placed a hand on your rapidly beating heart.

That motherfucker just about killed you! Well, not literally, but still! You closed your eyes to collect yourself before opening them again to glare at him.

However, instead of that same annoying smirk, his face turned into one of regret. “Shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t even think if that would make you… fuck, I didn’t—“

”It’s fine!” You quickly cut him off, knowing where he was going with that statement. “I-I’m fine… you just startled me a bit.” You calmly placed your bookmark before turning back to him with narrowed eyes. He looked a bit more relieved.

”Still, I need to be more… considerate.” He looked down at his hands, avoiding your eyes. “In more ways than one…” You furrowed your brows in suspicion before he returned your gaze once more. “I’ve thought about it a lot and I realized that I haven’t necessarily been easy on you throughout all of this. I might have played a part in helping you physically, but I didn’t consider how this would all affect you mentally.”

You were speechless. Was this the same man? He’s actually being… remorseful…

“So, yeah. Sorry about all that…” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck while averting his eyes. He clearly wasn’t used to apologizing so much. “I, um… I wanted to ask you if we could, like, start over?”

You had never seen the man fumble so much since meeting him and it was quite a refreshing sight. “Why? Are you about to drop another ridiculous rule on me and you’re just saying this to lessen the blow?” You huffed a bitter chuckle.

You could see his temper start to rise before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m saying this…” There was a slight edge to his voice before he opened his eyes again with a much more gentle demeanor. “—because I am tired of us butting heads.” He slumped into the backrest and you arched a brow. “And also because you were right.”

Okay. Something is seriously wrong.

”I thought it would be dangerous for you to train with professionals and be subjected to a room full of random men.” He limply turned his head your way while remaining melted into the cushions. “And yes, there will be other men there. All of my subordinates use this training center. It’s one of my most used gyms for my… industry.”

You scoffed. “Pft. ‘Industry’” You mocked with finger quotations.

He smirked. “Yes. Industry.” His face gradually returned to a more serious disposition. “There is also the matter of secrecy.” You nodded your head. Yeah, that made sense considering his occupation, but who were you going to tell? “Not saying I don’t trust you—“

”Why do you trust me?” You blurted, the question still buzzing around in your mind like an annoying pest. He furrowed his brows as if he didn’t understand. You continued. “Like, yeah, I get why you saved me now and all, but why do you trust ME?”

His brow slightly softened and he cleared his throat. “Y-you have given me no reason not to trust you. Why? Did you do something?” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “No, asshole. It’s obvious to me that you should trust me, but you’re just going to take my word for it? You must be a really shitty spy.” He guffawed loudly, sitting up with a bright grin as he seemed like himself again.

”You haven’t seen what I can do, Tinkerbell.” You rolled your eyes, but you did find the notion intriguing.

”Oh yeah? What can you do?” You could see a spark light up in his eyes as he stared into your own and you had to gulp down the saliva that pooled in your mouth from the sight.

”Well…” He shifted to face you, elbow now propped up on the back of the couch. “You’ll get to see some of it when we train you.”

You felt your heart jolt. “When you train me?” You felt the corners of your mouth slowly lifting and his followed right behind.

”We leave at noon. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He mused.

”No! No, I want to!” You looked at the clock. 11:30. Shit, he couldn’t have told you a little sooner? You sprang to your feet and he stood as well. “Just let me go change and I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

He just gave you a brief nod before turning on his heel and leaving you giddily buzzing in your skin.

__________________________________________

Somehow, you had plenty of options to choose from, but you opted for a simple T-shirt and joggers. Not the cutest, but who were you trying to impress?

A vision of Minho flashed in your mind and you reeled from the thought. Ugh. Why did my head think of HIM? In fact, why were you thinking so much about him in the first place? You chalked it up to it being from interacting more frequently nowadays. Yes. That must be it. You resolutely threw on a hoodie over your shirt and marched your way to the foyer.

“You ready? It won’t be easy.” He said from where he was leaned up against the staircase banister. You took in the sight of his workout attire, not really taking the time to fully appreciate it until now.

He wore a loose pair of sweatpants and an airy tank top that allowed you to gaze at his intricate sleeve of tattoos once more. He would almost look human if he hadn’t been blessed with his other-worldly beauty.

You blinked away the thoughts and gave a firm nod to him in response. “I don’t want easy. I want effective.”

He smirked and stood up straight when you approached. “We’ll see soon how confident you are in that statement.” You glared and he gestured his head. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Instead of heading out the front, he made his way further into the house. You furrowed your brows. “Where are the other guys? And where are you going?”

”Tsk. So many questions!” He mused and grinned at your responding scowl. “The guys are already there and, as to where we are going…” He stepped up to a large door located in the next room and opened the door for you to enter first, your face surely gawking at the luxury. You heard a chuckle from behind you. “Your reactions are always so adorable.” He smoothly teased.

EXCUSE ME?!

You whipped around and glared at him as he just continued walking past you. “Now…” He turned back to face you again. “Which one do you want to take?” He said plainly as he gestured to the plethora of extremely expensive cars.

The garage definitely looked like it belonged in a spy movie, but you were stumped. He said he was like a spy. Not a spy. Like a spy. You were still racking your brain as to what that meant.

Your eyes grazed over the fancy marble interior of the museum-like garage and the cars on display. How can someone have this much disposable income?

You didn’t know the first thing about cars, why did you have to pick?

When you just pointed to some random car, he raised his brows. “Really? The Rolls Royce?”

“Well, shit I dunno! Why do I need to pick? You obviously know more than I do when it comes to this!”

He cackled and led you closer to your chosen car. “Oh, I know waaay more than you, Tink.” You grumbled and he chuckled as he opened the door for you, letting you slide into the disgustingly luxurious vehicle.

”Why do you even have all of these cars? Don’t you have someone else to drive you?” He donned a cocky half-grin when he slipped into the driver seat.

”Sure, when I’m on business I do. But we are just going to train.”

In the blink of an eye, his face was directly in front of yours as he reached across you, eyes fixed on your seatbelt strap as he grasped the material. As soon as he stretched it across your body, he seemed to notice your surprise.

He froze, blinked at you rapidly, then quickly averted his gaze back down to the strap to buckle you in. He cleared his throat and gulped before starting the car. “Plus…” He added with a slightly strained voice. “It’s not nearly as fun riding as it is driving.”

__________________________________________

“Was the bag seriously necessary? Who would I even tell?!” You seethed as you threw the black, silky fabric at him.

Before you two even left the driveway, he forced you to shove your head in a stupid black hood so you “couldn’t know the location” once you left the estate later. You told him that it was unnecessary and stupid, but the man insisted.

You ripped the damned thing off as soon as he put the car in park.

”Have you forgotten what I told you? About my work? Why are you surprised with the secrecy?” He explained calm and composed as he discarded the bag in the car again.

”Well then blindfold me next time! I could barely breathe!” You were over exaggerating, of course. That material was extremely airy and breathable, you just wanted to feel superior to such treatment.

”Well excuse me, your highness…” He rolled his eyes as he pulled out his keys and walked up to the door of a large, nondescript, concrete building. Unlocking and opening the door for you, he gave you an exaggerated bow.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you passed the threshold, and marched into what looked like a massive gym complex of some sort.

However, the entire building was devoid of life. Of course that’s not including the seven familiar figures you saw fighting on the far end of the room. ”I thought you said all of your employees train here?” You said with an arched brow.

Minho passed you with a shrug. “Not today they don’t.” Well that answered nothing…

”Hey there, girly! Ready to get that blood pumping?”

”Calm down, Changbin. She is still going through therapy, remember?” Dr. Chris told the younger muscle man from where he was doing crazy heavy deadlifts off to the side.

”I know, I know, grandpa.” Changbin smirked at the doctor’s glare. “But just remember: ‘What hurts today makes you stronger tomorrow.’”

The other men groaned in tandem and you found yourself slightly smiling. “That’s a great motivational outlook, Changbin.” You said to the group as you watched Changbin’s face light up.

”Okay, enough, enough.” Minho declared. “Today’s training is obviously a bit different than usual.” He gestured vaguely at you. “We have a base level trainee and she needs to be trained from ground zero.” He gave you a side-eye and a cocky smirk. “Maybe even lower than that…”

”Hey!” You made a move to give him a lighthearted shove, and then was immediately reminded of what happened last time as his hand shot to your wrist to stop the action. You tried to free yourself, but his grip was like stone. “Let me go, asshole!”

”Make me.” He said as he suddenly faced you, pulling you closer. “Come on, show me. What would you do if you wanted to be released?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. Any move you could possibly make would be caught by his cat-like reflexes. You just challenged him with your eyes before his own softened, along with his grip on your wrist.

Just as your wrist was released he gave you a couple pats on the head. “Don’t worry Tinkerbell. I’m sure you will figure it out eventually.” You just about growled at him as he walked over to stand by Chris who was now seated on a bench nearby. “Channie-hyung and I are just here to observe and critique ALL of you, so do your best.” The man made an annoyed expression and waved the back of his hand in front of him. “Well? Get on with it!”

With that, you found yourself surrounded by six (frankly gorgeous) men looming over you.

“Hey! Back off! Don’t all go at her at once! I said ground zero you pabos!” Minho shouted from the sidelines before the others retreated and Changbin stepped in front of you.

”Calm down, Minho. This is what I’m here for.” You breathed in a resolute huff and nodded at Changbin. “I’m ready.”

__________________________________________

“Watch out for her arm!”

…

”Don’t actually try to hurt her, idiot!”

…

”That’s too rough!”

…

The entire training session Minho had shouted at each and every one of the men trying to teach me at least once and it was growing tiresome. “Why even let me train if I can’t even, I dunno, actually train???” You grumbled at the stubborn man as the group was taking a break. “I have legitimately learned nothing with the parameters you have set!”

”For real, hyung. You aren’t letting her show her full potential. She needs—“

Minho instantly cut Changbin off. “I will decide what is needed and I think that it would be better for her to just watch for now. It’s obvious that she is not ready.”

”WHA—?” You squealed with widened eyes and a disbelieving expression.

”Actually, I think she is doing quite well in her recovery…” Dr. Chris stated matter-of-factly where he stood next to the other six men drenched in sweat.

You watched Minho slowly turn his murderous expression to the doctor, but you stepped into his line of sight before he had the chance to retaliate. “Please let me continue… I promise I will take it easy, I just…” You looked down at your restless hands before returning your gaze to his blackened irises. “This is just really important to me…”

You watched as the man’s face minutely softened and glanced at the seven men around you that also awaited his instruction.

”Please?” You implored, not used to such pleading from your end. His eyes darted back to you before he moved to rub his temples with a sigh.

“Fine.” He groaned. “But base-line self defense only. We can move on to more advanced training once you have recovered a bit more.”

You don’t know why you felt such relief come over you. Maybe it was the satisfaction of even marginally getting through to him, but you let a wide grin escape as your body involuntarily moved to hug the man.

What the fuck?

Just as quickly as you embraced the man, you retreated just as fast with furiously heated cheeks. Why in the world did you do that? You were FAR from hugging terms with him! He probably just about shot you in the head from the unexpected touch!

However, you couldn’t help but notice the citrus and sandalwood scent emanating from his solid, warm body. His skin felt like flames against yours and you welcomed the heat. It didn’t last long, but the simple contact with him made your blood boil and quickly reddened your entire face.

When you pulled back and cleared your throat, you witnessed a millisecond of bewilderment on his stone-cold face before it was immediately schooled back into place (but that did nothing to cover up his bright red ears). “Th-thank you.” You mumbled before you escaped to the water fountain that was, blessedly, on the other side of the room. Never mind the fact you had a water bottle already with you by the group…

__________________________________________

By the time you and the rest of the boys finished (which was a very productive start if you do say so yourself), Minho had informed he was called in for an unexpected ‘business meeting’ across town and that training would finish early for the day as he needed to take a couple of his men with him.

You were a bit disappointed, but at least you got to do something. Which was more than you expected honestly.

As you requested, you were blindfolded for the car ride back instead of the stifling bag he donned you with on the way there, but you rode back with only five of his men instead.

You could feel all of their eyes on you as you rode in silence. Jeongin drove the unnecessarily expensive limousine, Changbin, and Hyunjin sat across from you, and Felix and Chan bracketed you on each side.

The silence was even more suffocating than the bag you wore earlier as you felt yourself start to become antsy. “For the love of god, please someone say something! I feel like I’m an exhibit in a museum right now.” You whined and buried your face in your hands (even though you couldn’t see anything anyway).

”And what a lovely piece of art you are, darling~” Hyunjin lilted before you heard a slap of skin and an over dramatic squawk from said man.

”Yah! Don’t be a creep!” You heard Changbin exclaim as the precious Felix giggled next to you.

”It was supposed to be a compliment!” You heard someone click their tongue before Chan decided to speak up.

”It’s interesting isn’t it…” He commanded the whole group’s attention with practiced ease and you quickly realized the hidden influence this man had over the lot of them. Which would make sense due to the fact that the doctor had probably saved most of, if not all of their lives at some point in time. “I haven’t seen or heard of Minho ever taking it easy on a trainee before… Most of them have to come see me even after their first session with him.”

”For real though, the man is ruthless with everyone else! He will even push them through the pain of broken bones!” Hyunjin exclaimed incredulously.

”He wants to make sure they are prepared through anything, even excruciating pain.” Jeongin stated simply from the driver’s seat.

Holy shit, these guys are no joke! “What the fuck? Why can’t he do the same with me?!” The entire car went dead silent in response. You could feel the annoyance creep into your bones. “Is it because I’m a girl? Seriously?!”

You heard Felix scoff next to you. “As if.” He sputtered in amusement. “The female trainees are some of the toughest among all of us.”

Then why?

”Maybe he just has a soft spot for you…” You heard Hyunjin mumble and you outright cackled at that one.

”Are you kidding?! Have you seen the way he treats me??” You question with an incredulous chuckle.

“You never knooow~” Hyunjin stated with a teasing lilt to his voice before you heard another smack.

And before another word could be said, your blindfold was removed and you were ushered into the estate once more.

A soft spot? What a joke.

__________________________________________

I hope you guys are happy with the turn-around. 😏

I’ve missed you all so dearly and I apologize for the wait. 🥺 I would say that the next part will come out sooner, but I don’t want to guarantee that if life decides to fuck with me some more. 🙃

As always, please like, follow, and share!

Thanks baby Stays! Love you and missed you guys! 💋😽💋

And of course my squad and tag list:

@lyramundana

@channieandhisgoonsquad

@moonlightndaydreams

@queenmea604

@sweetracha

@rylea08

@maknaeswrld

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

#lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids fanfics #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #i love my babies #triggers #heavy angst #rape/noncon #tw sui attempt #eventual smut #eventual romance #stray kids minho #depressing shit #please dont hate me #tw ptsd

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sugar-phoenix · 4 days

Text

Death of a Cowboy

synopsis: Before Boothill became Boothill, he was a cowboy on the planet of Aeragan-Epharshel, living with his foster caretakers. Everything was simple and perfect. That is, until the IPC descended from the skies. Alternatively: I rewrote Boothill's lore, expanded it, and made it a lot more devastating. tws: child death, trauma tags: boothill, boothill has a daughter, I gave boothill a name, heavy angst, trauma a/n: 2.5k words, get your tissues ready.

ao3 link here!

The cowboy took a sip out of the malt fruit juice in his hand. Overhead, million of stars twinkled in the sky. He laid back, soaking in the night.

The cool wind gently bit at his skin. There was nothing but the sound of the leaves rustling, and the chorus of crickets in the grass. He breathed deeply, feeling the air fill his lungs, and the blood pumping beneath his hand which rested lazily on his chest.

The years had passed since the cowboy had been taken in by Graey and Nick, and although people had come and gone, and his caretakers had grown old with age, this planet refused to change. He was certain that no matter where he went, no matter if he decided to stay or leave, the leafy trees, the green grass, the burbling river… it would all be here forever.

A sound rose up from the night, one that was unfamiliar yet all too familiar. The cowboy got up to investigate it, and as he got closer, he realized what it was. He swore under his breath.

“Is that a baby?”

In the grass, nestled within a box with blankets, a baby wailed. He stared at it, unsure of what to do. Nick and Graey had picked up many children over the years, but since this cowboy had been one of the youngest (and quite honestly completely disinterested in the whole childcare thing) he had little to no experience or direction. He stood there and stared at the baby that was still wailing, frozen in place. Something within him compelled him to pick up the bundle and soothe it, and he followed that urge, raising the child to his chest.

“Shh, shh, there there little guy. It’s okay.”

Miraculously, the baby stopped crying, and looked up at him with bright eyes, cooing curiously. In the moonlight, he saw a note was attached to the bundle, and he picked it up to read it.

Please take care of my Hannah.

“Ah, sorry, little girl. You’re not a boy after all,” the cowboy whispered.

The baby started wailing again.

“Ah sh— I’m sorry! I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know you were a girl and not a guy?”

“Wes!”

A call came from the porch, and the cowboy turned around.

“Wes, is that a baby?”

“I don’t know, Nick. Someone left her out in the cold night like this.” Wes shouted back, his voice competing with the crying child in his arms.

“Well bring her in already. She’ll catch a cold if she’s out there any longer.”

A cold? Wes snapped up, quickly grabbing her box and rushing into the house.

Inside, Nick cleared the table.

“Set ‘er down here.”

Graey was busy whittling away at a block of wood. Too many times Wes’ siblings had tried to get him to give it up as he got older, fearing for the health of his hands, but he steadfastly refused.

“If there’s anything I’m going to enjoy in my old age, it’ll be my woodworkin.’ So let me do it until I can’t do it no more,” was what he always said.

Wes laid the baby down on the table.

“Is she going to get a cold?” Wes asked.

“No, no. She’s probably fine,” Nick said, waving his hand dismissively. He held a bottle of warm milk and handed it to Wes.

“Here, Wesson. You feed her.”

“Who, me? No!—” Wes started to protest, but he could see that Nick was not about to budge. He always used Wes’ full name when he meant business.

Sighing, Wes picked up the baby again, cradling it in the crook of his arm. These movements were stilted, stiff.

He’d seen Nick and Graey do the same thing many times. Now he was copying their movements and praying it would be enough.

The baby stopped crying when he picked her up, and that gave him enough confidence to continue.

“There, there. That’s right. Come drink your milk.”

Wes picked up the bottle of milk and held it to the baby’s mouth.

“There now, drink up.”

The baby did not drink up. It only looked at him blankly, then at the bottle, and then wailed again.

“Hey, hey, the bottle’s right here lil’ missus.” He continued to hold it in front of the baby’s face, but she only wailed louder and pushed it away.

“She’s not latching on,” he turned to the two elderly men in the room, who were watching him flounder with amusement.

“She doesn’t know it’s food, Wes. Squeeze a few drops in her mouth.” Nick took a leisurely sip from his cup of malt.

Wes did so, just as Graey chimed in with, “Just be careful not to choke her.” Wes looked up at him in horror.

“Choke? Couldn’t you have said that sooner?”

Graey only laughed out loud.

“Relax, Wes. Look, she’s drinkin’ now,” Nick pointed out.

Wes looked down. And true to Nick’s words the baby had latched on, suckling with all the ferocity she could muster. He let out a sigh of relief.

Wes watched as she nearly drank the whole thing, her red lips working the nipple of the bottle. Like with the air in his lungs and the pumping of his blood, he felt something new bloom in his heart. Something unexpected.

“I think that baby’s yours, Wes.”

Wes looked up at Graey.

“Wh-what? No—”

“No, it’s too late, I’m afraid. You’ve got that look in your eye.”

“Same one we had when we found you, Wes,” Nick chimed in.

“But I— I can’t take care of a damn baby!”

“Damb.”

Wes looked down at the baby in his arms, startled.

“What was that now, lil’ missus?”

“Dammb,” the baby said proudly, then blew a raspberry at him.

“Damn,” the cowboy repeated reverently. “You’ve got some big words coming out of your mouth there, Hannah.”

Behind him, the two older cowboys smiled at each other.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Daddy.”

“Just a lil’ longer, lil’ missus. I got your guitar ready for you soon.”

The baby had grown up fast. She had taken her first steps only a few weeks ago, and with the gentle support of Wes they all watched as she made her way over to Nick’s guitar. It was often that the sound of his playing soothed her to sleep, but now she seemed to express a real interest in the instrument, giggling and shrieking as she plucked its strings. It wasn’t very long afterwards that Wes found himself asking Graey for woodworking tips. He’d never been big on the trade, but the idea of making a small guitar for Hannah to play with on her own had taken him by the throat. Graey happily complied, and now, a few days later, Wes was working on the last step: threading and tuning the strings. Hannah sat on the floor of the small workshop next to him, playing with her wooden animals. She rarely ever left his side. She squealed happily as she knocked a wooden cow and a wooden horse together, then raised the cow into the air. Graey had whittled toys for her, and the cow one was her favorite out of all of them. She lovingly referred to it as “Beth.”

Wes looked down at her, smiling. He never thought of fostering a child, even in his wildest dreams.

“But that’s the funny part about stuff like this,” he heard Graey’s voice in his head. “They just happen, and all of a sudden you’re doin’ stuff you never would have done in a million years.”

“Here ya go, Hannah,” Wes said, crouching down to her level. “Here’s a guitar made just for you.”

Hannah squealed gleefully as Wes handed the guitar to her. She slapped at its strings, laughing louder with every sound it made.

“Wesson!” A shout came from outside.

Wes leapt up from the floor, hand to the revolver at his hip. He rushed out to the porch to find Nick looking upwards.

Following his gaze, he found a fleet of spaceships were descending from the skies.

“Newcomers,” Nick said. “And they sure as hell don’t look friendly either.”

Wes would come to see how true Nick’s words were.

☆ ☆ ☆

The men in black from the sky had no regards for the inhabitants of the planet they were invading. Wes watched over the weeks as families were uprooted from their homes simply because they existed over deposits of black ore, and men had died for trying to take back what their fathers had built. They wheeled in excavators, started carving into the earth, marring it with reckless abandon. The so-called Interastral Peace Corporation did nothing in the name of peace. Rather, they saw the planet as a fruit that was ripe for harvesting, and the people who lived on it as obstacles, pests to drive out and eradicate.

Their “negotiations” were rather demands that the natives leave their homes immediately and never come back. They were treated as lowlife savages, incompetents.

And at times, it truly felt that way. The IPC’s advanced weapons and turrets far overpowered the simple revolvers and horses that the people of Aeragan-Epharshel used. No matter how many men banded against them, it was a massacre each and every time. One that Wesson had to watch over and over again, as he outlived much of his friends and siblings.

Graey, Nick, Hannah, and the rest of the ranch were much further inland, so they were thankfully away from the struggle and bloodshed. At least for now.

Wes had joined the guerilla warfare against the IPC — but the approach they were using was ineffective, and they were only losing more lives by the day.

The only way to make it all end, he realized, was to go straight to the top. Deal with the man behind it all. And so, Wes schemed. He stole a Synesthesia Beacon from the cargo hold of a train, used it so that his words became theirs. Then he snuck onto the mothership, wearing a uniform he’d stolen off somewhere else.

Wes’ nerves were taut as he made his way through the ship. IPC employees casually walked past him, some laughing and joking with their colleagues as if there wasn’t a thing wrong in the world. Every so often he’d tell himself not to reflexively put a hand on the revolver at his waist. He told himself to act like he belonged. To act like he owned his ship and everyone in it. After all it’s what they were doing. It was only fair to infiltrate them with their own tactics.

After what felt like hours, Wes reached the restricted area. The door to the core cabin was blocked by two guards, and he knew there were only more inside waiting for him.

“Hey,” one of them said, “You can’t come this— ”

He and his partner were shot through the head. Wes moved quickly now, since the guards inside would no doubt be alerted.

There were only three more guards beyond the doors, which were quickly dealt with, and then there was a long corridor that led to the core cabin. Wes sneaked up, slowing down when he heard voices.

He listened with disgust as they talked about Aeragan-Epharshel, talked about the beautiful planet he called home as thought it was nothing but a chip to gain for their own competitive advantage. He listened as they referred to his people as uncivilized savages, like as if they hadn’t been doing perfectly well before they descended down.

“We are running out of time,” one of them said. “You are permitted to use military force and bring civilization to this world.

And then, “Initiate the cannons. Wipe them all out.”

There is a level of terror that grips a man, that tells him that he is about to lose everything. In that moment, Wes ran. He forgot all about killing the man in charge, forgot about his schemes, forgot about ending it all.

As he bolted through the ship, as employees laughed and joked around him, his stomach twisting itself tighter as he felt and heard the rumble of what could only be cannon fire, he had one thought running through his mind. A plea.

Please let them be safe. Oh, please let them be safe. Please.

Outside, terrible thunder shook the sky as hellfire rained from above. Wes had no regards for his life as he ran through the crowd of screaming people, shells exploding left and right, as cowboys died around him. He ran through the plain, across the fields, back to where he was raised, the only home he’d ever known.

As he got closer, he saw smoke.

“No. No, no, no, no!”

Craters scarred the field around him. Where there was supposed to be a ranch and a house, there was nothing but burning rubble. Everywhere Wes looked, there was fire and wreckage.

“Hannah,” he shouted, the smoke drying out his lungs. “HANNAH!”

He didn’t hear her. Didn’t hear her soft angelic voice calling back to him, didn’t hear a cry or a scream.

“Nick! Graey!” He screamed their names until he choked on smoke, tried to dig through the charred wooden beams where his house stood until the fire seared his hands and he was forced to back away.

No response. No remains. Nothing.

The cannon fire had stopped by now, leaving pure and utter destruction in its wake.

Wes sank to his knees.

He took a breath. It was full of smoke. And then he took another.

And then he screamed. Screamed into the fire and smoke. Screamed for his friends. Screamed for the two men who were like fathers to him.

Screamed for his daughter, the small pure being who had taken his whole heart with her.

They didn’t deserve to die like this.

His scream cut out as he choked, this time on his tears. He crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

Nobody deserved to die like this.

She didn’t deserve to die like this.

He sobbed and sobbed, and for how long he didn’t know. He didn’t care if the IPC found him. Hell, they could shoot him dead if they liked. It made no difference to him. He had lost everything.

When he stopped crying, when the pain had dulled to an empty numbness, he closed his eyes. Soaked in his surroundings.

The heat from the fire threatened to melt his skin off. The air was thick and heavy with smoke. The only sound was the crackling of the wood, the trees, and the grass burning.

It was a stark contrast to what he experienced months before.

This irreversible landscape… it had been changed.

No.

Ruined. Permanently.

This wasn’t his home. Not anymore.

And someone needed to pay for it. For all of it.

Slowly, painfully, he stood up, his breaths shuddering.

As he looked around one last time, his eyes caught sight of something lying on the ground.

It was a small wooden cow, slightly charred.

He picked it up, and held it in his hand.

“This is for you, Hannah. Don’t you worry, Daddy will make those bastards pay for what they did to you.”

He slipped the toy into his pocket.

With long striding steps, he walked away from everything he had ever known, his unadulterated fury the only thing moving him forward.

dividers by cafekitsune!

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