sunshiline-writes

[sunshiline-writes]

Bonsai

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Thank you to @honeybees-125 for the idea for this piece!

Contains: Captivity, referenced mind control, referenced manipulation

~~~

Inside of his study, on a dark mahogany table carved with intricate reliefs and patterns, Lord Denholm kept a small bonsai tree.

The small notion of something natural almost felt out of place in the carefully kept castle. The tree itself could have been something wild, if not for its size, with how its trunk twisted smoothly up towards a sky it would never reach. The needles were the perfect shade of green and contrasted beautifully with the ashen grey-brown of the gnarled bark. There was even a touch of moss that grew at the base of the trunk, another touch of life and nature and the relationships between the world’s creatures.

Though it was folly to assume that such seemingly incidental was anything other than deliberate. For such a thing to exist in this state must have taken years, decades, centuries of careful planning and pruning and precise cultivation.

How it survived in the castle, Elze’ith knew not. There was no sunlight here, only the illumination of candles—no changing of the seasons, only the perennial chill of the castle air. Yet undeniably, inexplicably, the little cypress tree lived all the same. Through some magic or resilience or sheer serendipity, it had not withered into dust. It persisted, tenderly refined into a shape far smaller than it would have taken if left to its own devices, deprived of the very things essential for it to thrive.

Though he had no fondness for Lord Denholm’s study, Elze’ith would linger there sometimes just for the chance to regard the little tree. There was something achingly nostalgic about being in the presence something he once knew in abundance, of seeing the familiar and the magnificent reduced to something small and modest and knowable.If he was feeling particularly indulgent, he would imagine himself shrunken down to a size where he could sit underneath it, reading and resting and relaxing. Usually, though, he just took in the curve of every branch, the color of the needles, and tried to pretend that the freshness of the air was anything other than a trick of his imagination.

Sometimes, though, he couldn’t bear to look at it. The little cypress tree was just too pristine, too sculpted, too perfect. There was just something so bleak about its existence, a life so resilient and autonomous contorted into this unnatural shape. The prospect filled him with a profound dread that chilled his very core.

How long did it take Lord Denholm to cultivate this ideal specimen? How many times did he have to trim off stray branches, or wire the trunk, or prune excess needles? How long ago did he last pay his now-perfect project any real attention?

Perhaps it was a silly thing to fret about. It was, after all, just a tree, a source of solace as much as strain. As familiar and haunting and resonant as it was, there was nothing in its existence that should give Elze’ith cause for fear.

Not even when Lord Denholm’s unyielding hands felt like they were molding him into a shape he never should have taken. Not even when his thoughts vanished into smoke like excess growths trimmed off of a tree. Not even when he felt like he had been transplanted, uprooted from fertile ground and forced to try to survive in soil that would keep him alive but never truly flourishing.

Not even as the gnarled, thorny tangle of emotions in his chest grew too thick to extricate his heart from, and he began to wonder whether this complicated snare was some awful attempt at self-preservation, or whether it was another way of contorting everything he was into a simulacrum of himself.

No, the bonsai in Lord Denholm’s study was just a tree. There was no reason for Elze’ith to feel anything about it at all.

[sunshiline-writes]

Setbacks

Caius addresses his captive's demand for time outside.

Chapter 35 of Professional//Victim

Content warnings: Food denial, unstable whumpers, drug use, manipulation, suicidal ideation, mouth soaping, restraints, temperature play if by "play" you mean torture, temperature whump, captive whumpee, long term captivity, forced nudity, nonsexual nudity but it's still pretty weird

~

For days, Tommy heard construction. Faintly, from the basement, through the ground - hammering, thudding, the faintest whine of machines. It was very exciting at first, something that broke the endless monotony of time in his room. 

Caius entered Tommy’s room with breakfast, and Tommy was standing in front of the glass brick in his wall. He was looking up at it like he thought if he squinted hard enough, he could see something through the frosted glass. 

“What’s going on? I can hear something happening!” He turned to Caius, his eyes wide. It brought such a smile to his lips, to see his wonder at something so mundane. That almost childlike innocence he’d adapted through years of isolation. Deprived of body hair, his face and his body were baby smooth; his skin pale and young from years without any proper sun. Sam’s treatments worked miracles. It all made him look so oddly youthful - except for those eyes. He had such terribly sad eyes. And that distant gaze, his mind trying to wander out to somewhere kinder. 

Caius could forgive. But he never forgot. And he also never… actually forgave. 

“Caius?”

Oh, he’d forgotten to respond. Tommy was waiting for him to answer, his wanton gaze straying to and from the food in his hands. He looked hungry. 

“Yes… I’m having a new backyard put in. If we’re going to be actually spending time outside, I want a nice yard to spend time in.”

“Oh!” Tommy’s hands fluttered in excitement. What a fag. “That - that sounds amazing!” He didn’t really know what ‘getting a back yard put in’ meant, but it sounded expensive.

“Thank me,” Caius suggested, holding up his breakfast bowl just out of his reach. 

“Thank - thank you,” Tommy stammered, but he said it immediately, so Caius lowered the bowl to his hands. He accepted it and sat on the edge of his bed to eat, while Caius pulled up his chair. Grits with milk, butter, and brown sugar, a treat. Tommy dug in eagerly.

“So…chew…when can I go outside?” Tommy asked over a spoonful. 

“Don’t talk when you’re eating. And you enjoy that, it’s all you’re getting today.” 

Tommy froze, his chewing slowing until he forced himself to swallow. 

“What…did I…?” 

Caius ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his face. 

“You really piss me off sometimes, Tommy.”

Tommy stared at his bowl like all the joy had suddenly been taken from his meal. 

“Eat. You’ve got five.”

Tommy peeked up at him for just a moment, trying his cutest hangdog expression. When Caius didn’t budge, he started to mechanically shove food in his mouth. He’d learned how to do it after years of insecure eating, where food was a threatened resource at all times. If Caius said to eat, he really needed to eat. 

Maybe if I eat it really fast, I’ll feel full for longer, Tommy wondered. It was better than thinking about how unappealing his food suddenly felt now that he knew it would be the last thing he’d have for a while. Instead, he counted bites. Force down five bites and you earn a momentary break. Get it down. 

Caius had his arms crossed, and he was leaning back in his chair. So, he was definitely getting a lecture. 

“I just keep thinking about, you know, when you fucking tried to shoot me? You remember that?”

Tommy paused again, his face gravely troubled. If he had a mask in his repertoire that was right for this talk, he couldn’t be sure. He stared at Caius’s knees and formed a look of remorse around his spoonfuls. 

“I let you off easy. So fucking easy. I thought I’d be generous, even cut you some slack given the circumstances. I tried offering the carrot instead of the stick. And you think that means you have some power now, and try to come to me with this fucking ultimatum. But this is what you do Tommy, as soon as I give you a little more leash, you haul off and try to take too much. You should be grateful for what you have, but instead, you always push for more.”

Tommy was a deer in the headlights, entranced in the face of imminent danger. 

Oh, fuck. It’s a repeat. 

His heart sank like a ship. He lowered the bowl with some uncertainty, trying to mull over his talking points. “Caius, I–”

“Shut your fucking mouth and eat. You’d better think real hard about what you have to say for yourself.”

Tommy did not point out the contradiction between shutting his mouth and eating. Caius gave him a minute of strained silence as he ate, and Tommy tried to mull over what he knew about repeats. 

~

Another one of the funny little cycles that ran his life. 

Step 1: Receive a punishment, for whatever slight – real or imagined. 

Step 2: Welcome to Everything Hurts And Sucks So Badville. Population, you. Beg for mercy in whatever way you can until Caius decides he has had enough. (If Caius uses the Repeat action, skip to Coda.)

Step 3: Be forgiven and move on. 

Coda: Repeat steps 1 and 2 before moving to Step 3. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. 

Punishment brought forgiveness….except for when it didn’t. 

 At first, Tommy thought Caius would stew about it and then blow up on him again after simmering. Everything would seem fine, or however fine it could be, and then suddenly Caius would snap. He could start ranting and raving about something all over again, and Tommy would be right back in the hot seat for it. 

Caius was getting himself worked up. Maybe Sam was giving him too much coke again. It was so hard to tell what would set him off. Tommy had tried to find patterns in what would cause a repeat, what punishments he would feel weren’t severe enough, what type of indiscretion would inspire it – nothing added up, it all left him frustrated to tears. He scraped the bottom of the bowl too quickly, and licked it clean before setting it down beside him.

Ultimately, there were no repercussions to what Caius did to him. Normal people might be limited by a sense of fairness. At the very least, a fear of getting caught. Caius did not feel bad about hurting Tommy, and he’d built the perfect lair where he could act without fear of consequence. The worst that would happen was a delay in Tommy’s healing, and even then they’d only had to reschedule a client a couple of times. 

“Maybe it’s my fault for thinking you could handle it. I know you need a firm hand.”

Knowing it was manipulative garbage didn’t mean that Tommy could call it out. It was best to play to Caius when he got like this. But he’d never had to suck up to Caius about pulling a gun on him until very recently, and no matter how he racked his brain, the right words wouldn’t come to him. 

“Caius, I don’t – I just…” He trailed off, rubbing his hands over his thighs back and forth like he was trying to wipe his hands off, an anxious tic to try to soothe himself. 

“I’m trying to be a part of this, I’m participating, and – and – and I’m playing my roles. Right? I – I’m a doll, right?” He felt a twinge inside for his own debasement, but his desperation was honest. 

He formed his hands into fists on his legs and squeezed, wishing to steele himself. He knew when he demanded outdoor time that he would be tempted to yield when he was punished. He’d sworn to himself that he would not fold – and if Caius asked him directly, he would have to stand his ground. It was well, well established that standing his ground against Caius on anything meant a world of pain. 

“Don’t you try that shit with me.” He had a look Tommy knew well, the one that said there is nothing you can do that won’t piss me off more. 

“Caius, I’m– I’m–” He put his head in his hands and started to pull at his hair, he felt so overwhelmed. Panic was rising inside of him, but no tears came.

Caius stood suddenly, startling Tommy further back onto his bed. He stepped forwards and leaned down, nearly eye to eye when he reached out and grabbed his jaw.

“Are you a doll? How about a fucking dog? Can you understand simple commands? Because nothing I do seems to get through your head.”

“I’m good! I’m good!” Tommy protested, his words weak as Caius was crushing his jaw. He could feel long, manicured nails digging into his face. He imagined Caius clawing off his skin over a moment of silence as Caius considered him. 

“Say it, then. Say you take it back. Say you’ll behave and you won’t throw a fit if you don’t get exactly what you want.” Caius released him.

Tommy rubbed his cheek and looked down at his feet. There was a hole in the toe of his left sock.

“I can’t do that,” he whispered. Caius gave a mirthless laugh. He wore a bitter, mocking smile. 

“Yeah? Why is that?”

Tommy did not want to say. Having this discussion would only dig him deeper, he just wanted to sit silently while Caius berated him and get whatever punishment was coming out of the way. 

“Answer me. Now.” Caius loomed down over him, closer, Tommy could feel his breath on his face. His collar tightened suddenly as Caius hooked his finger through the ring in front and held him there. 

“I – I,” Was all he could stammer out, his voice barely above a whisper. Think, think! Say something, anything! His mouth was dry. Caius was nearly nose to nose, close enough to kiss. 

Close enough to bite. 

“I can tell you’re not feeling motivated enough to give me an answer, and I’m not going to wait around all day. I’m going to give you a little help.” Tommy was jerked up onto his feet as Caius towed him to the bathroom by his collar. 

“Wait! I’ll talk, please Caius, we don’t have to do this!” he squeaked, but he stumbled along, trying to keep up. Once standing beside the tub, Caius released him. 

“Strip,” he commanded, and strip Tommy did, struggling to stall.

“I’m trying, really, I don’t need it, please give me one more cha– aaaaaance…” He trailed off when Caius reached into his pocket and withdrew a gold, rectangular box. It was only a few inches long, and hung from a thick leather cord that he looped around his palm. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the silver circle on the top, and Tommy immediately ducked his head. “Wait–”

Click. 

Caius pressed the training clicker once and released. Tommy flinched hard at the dreaded sound, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. Tongue held, he removed the last of his clothing with a knowing reluctance. Once he was down to his collar, Caius snapped his fingers and pointed to the tub. Tommy obediently stepped in.

“Not a word until I’m back. You’re going to stand there and think hard about what you want to say.” He punctuated the command with another click, watching Tommy wince. He left the bathroom and Tommy could hear him fiddling in the other room, unlocking his punishment cabinet. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” he whispered to himself. Again, even quieter, hopeless. “I don’t deserve this.” He had to say it sometimes, out loud, just to make sure he remembered. Guilt and shame felt like eels writhing in his belly. He knew how Caius saw things. He could feel what Caius was feeling. He’d spent so long studying him to try to learn how to please him, how best he could keep himself safe, that it was ingrained in his head and in his body. In spite of it, Tommy tried to feel sympathy for himself, just so someone would. 

At least if Caius used hot water, it would run out after a little while. 

He locked his arms around himself to try to warm up, in case he used cold. 

Then Caius was back, and stepped up onto the side of the bath to reach the ceiling. Tommy watched between his fingers, his hands covering his face. He was strung up to the old anchor point from his training that poked out from the stud above the shower. His body pulled taut, his arms held out of the way above his head. He was manipulated to stand facing the faucet and he could cringe away only a fraction of an inch, putting pressure on his cuffs. His chest was heaving as he struggled to control his breathing.

Cauis pointed the shower head at him and turned the water on full blast. 

Ice water sprayed directly into his face and he spluttered, shaking his head to try to try to escape it, but he only succeeded in letting it soak into his hair. It became heavy with water and was pulled straight under the weight, forming a dripping cape around his shoulders that streamed cold water down his back and his chest. Caius, safely dry beside the tub, angled the spray down to his chest and stomach, and Tommy jerked with shock. 

“FUCK!! FUCK, FUCK!!!” he howled, trying to step back and pull away, but the chains to his cuffs held him fast in place. 

“WATCH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!” Caius snapped back harshly. The agony manifested in Tommy’s body in a different way than physical pain usually did, but it was agony all the same. Pointed at his core, it drained away the last vestiges of his warmth in seconds, and his shivers became painful contractions. His cries dissolved into wordless, guttural pleas as his teeth began to chatter violently. Tommy feared it could sever his tongue if he tried to speak. He’d been given cold showers before where he had bitten himself bloody.

“I’m not going to let this kind of disrespect slide any more. This is exactly why you need retraining.” Caius rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the bar of soap from Tommy’s sink, returning to hold it just out of the water by his mouth. 

“Open.”

Tommy’s teeth were chattering so hard he was worried they would break. His jaw hurt from the tension, and he wasn’t sure he could muster the energy to stop. He was shaking convulsively as the water continued to drain him of any warmth. 

Click! Click! Click!

Tommy shrieked in frustration and gnashed his teeth, struggling wildly against his tether. He lost his footing and slipped, clamoring back onto his feet when the chain caught him and dug mercilessly into his wrists. Choking out dry sobs, he forced his mouth open an inch and locked it there. Caius generously accepted this offering and shoved the bar of soap through the gap, the waxy surface peeling against his teeth as it wedged his mouth open wide. Tommy gagged at the taste and jerked his head down, drool gathering on his tongue. 

“Hold it.”

Tommy hiccuped on another deep sob bubbling up from his chest, but he nodded. He dutifully held the soap crammed in his mouth against his tongue. At least it stopped the chattering. He bit down on it, revolted by the taste but soothed by working the wretched thing in his jaw. 

“Now that I have your attention,” Caius started, and stepped back to the sink to rinse his hands while Tommy trembled under the shower stream.

“You have got an awful lot of nerve trying this shit with me. When I took you, I knew you would need a lot of guidance, but I got you there. I thought you understood who was in charge. Maybe you did – maybe you started to forget. I think it’s time we revisit training to whip you back into shape. And I will, Tommy. I will cut you back down to size every time.”

He returned to Tommy’s side to watch him shiver. He couldn’t get his head under the spray to protect his chest, no matter how he strained his neck. Water poured over the soft, warm skin under his armpits, across his belly, down his narrow waist, shrinking his cock to a numb little nub in the cold. It forced a soft melody of whimpers from him, muffled behind the soap he held between his teeth. 

“Do you feel like talking now?” Caius asked. His voice was still stern, but he reached in to pull the wet strands of his hair out of Tommy’s eyes. They were screwed tightly shut, but when Caius tilted his head up, he blinked them open blearily. He met Caius’s gaze for only a moment before nodding, dropping his gaze back down to the bottom of the tub. 

Caius pulled the soap out, and Tommy released his jaw with herculean effort. His voice was quiet and shaky. 

“Can I sbit pleathe?”

“You can rinse your mouth to talk, but then it’s going right back in.”

Tommy caught some water in his mouth and swirled it around to try to get the worst of the taste out, but he couldn’t stall for long. He trembled as he forced the words out, low and ashamed. His hair slowly trickled back into his eyes as he talked. 

“I don’t need training.You’re – you’re the boss, I know that, I know it from the moment I wake up to – guugh – to when I sleep. I know –  know my place with you, Caius. I don’t need training. I need sunlight, I need fresh air, I need a reason to try to make it through the pain or I’ll just – I’ll just cease to exist. I can’t go any further, there’s nowhere left to go. And I know that and that is why, that is – is why I need this, why I’m doing this when I just want to say yes to you and – andcurlupinbedand –” he gave a wracking shudder and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “- and fall asleep, and never wake up again in any way that matters.”

Once a couple beats of silence passed, Caius held out the soap again, and Tommy took it in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Caius seemed to consider him for a minute. When he did speak, he was more calm. At a great price, Tommy had successfully deescalated his punishment.

“I will offer you happiness in the right ways at the right time. But you’re lost. We need to rebuild. You’ll get your outside time, and you’ll get a refresher course. Do I make myself clear?”

Tommy nodded. Caius held out his hand and Tommy spat the soap into his palm. He forced in a harsh breath.

“Yeth, Caiuth.”

“Louder.”

“Y–YES, CAIUS!” Tommy managed a weak shout. He hung his head in defeat. Soapy drool oozed down his chin and dripped onto his chest, where it was washed away by the water. He was losing sensation, but his muscles ached fiercely underneath. Caius finally held out his hand again, and he numbly pressed a kiss to the warm side of it before opening to receive the soap once more. Caius placed it in his mouth and he closed around it without further complaint. 

“Sam is going to help me with your punishment.” Caius managed to sound so disappointed in him. Tommy nodded absently in response, too exhausted to feel anymore. Caius adjusted the shower knob, and the water turned to a more bearable level of cool. He was still freezing, but it brought some relief, and he wheezed softly. Caius understood and patted his back. 

“I’ll give you a few more minutes and then we can stop, okay?”

Tommy moaned softly, but Caius accepted it. It felt like an eternity, as Caius watched him squirm himself exhausted, but he finally reached over and turned the water warm. Tommy sobbed in relief as suds continued to drip his chin. Caius walked away, leaving him to defrost in the tub and pray he would return before the hot water ran out.

~

Taglist:

@suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @jumpywhumpywriter

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @knivestothroats @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @whumpinggrounds @galactic-worm

~

Thank you so much for reading. I'm sorry my writing schedule has been nonexistent lately, but I am looking forwards to getting back to your regularly scheduled broadcasting. With recent health problems and a chronically crazy life, sometimes things get thrown out of whack.

I'll be putting out a post soon reflecting on the series and discussing some major changes that I have in mind. I would love to get feedback on these changes from any who read the series, and I so appreciate folks who leave me the comments and tags that I live for! I think there are some pretty exciting updates coming soon, so stay tuned!

-V

[sunshiline-writes]

Everyone can blame my discord friends for encouraging my royal AU brainrot, Prince Mariano is like seven years old here

TWs: break-ins/intruders in a child's room, a terrified child, talk of assassinations, like the child is okay physically but they ARE very very scared

Mama and Daddy said that there were never any monsters under the bed. They checked, of course, but the answer was always the same. After helping him put his hair up in a bun they'd kiss Mariano's forehead and lift him up onto his blankets. They'd tuck him in, and check one more time, and promise that there weren't any monsters to be found in his room.

The stars, dotted and crossed in magical paint on the ceiling, would keep watch. Daddy had painted them himself, he said. They had love pressed into every brush stroke. That was enough to keep any monster away.

Now, Mariano lay in his bed, eyes wide in the new-moon darkness as he was pinned under his blankets. A leather-wrapped hand he didn't know pressed his whimpers and shudders back down into his mouth. A figure he'd never seen before loomed, cloaked in darkness. Two golden rings bore down at him, the same color as the stars on his ceiling.

"Oh." The man said. "You're just a little thing, aren't you?"

Mariano tried to speak, only to be muffled by the glove. Fat tears started to roll down his face, the pat-pat-pat of them hitting his pillowcase deafening in the quiet. He struggled to take a breath in, head starting to spin.

"Shhh. It's okay." He said, an awful mimicry of how Uncle Luis would shush him whenever he dreamed about Daddy getting attacked again. "Don't scream. I don't want to hurt you." His weight was inescapable over Mariano. "But if you scream or shout, I will."

Carefully, like Mariano were a dog that might bolt away, he lifted his hand. He gasped, air flooding his chest and making him dizzier. "Are you gonna afassinate me?" He whispered. The one who hurt Daddy didn't do any of this, but Uncle Luis said that everyone did everything differently. Killing people probably fell under the umbrella of everything.

The man laughed, soft and low. He didn't unpin Mariano, the hand on his quilt feeling inescapable. The two rings disappeared for a moment before moving back and forth.

"No." He said. "They didn't say how old you were. I'm not a monster."

"What are you going to do?" Mariano whispered.

"I'm going to go make sure there's one less monster in the world." He spoke gently, kindly. He spoke like the rock-seller did during the last winter solstice festival, when Mariano had gotten separated from his parents in the crowd. The rock-seller's hands hadn't felt so scary, though. This man wouldn't hoist Mariano up onto his shoulders so he could try to spot his parents.

Mariano didn't know what this man would do.

The man reached into his pocket with his free hand, and placed a little scroll into Mariano's trembling hands. "I want you to close your eyes and count to one-hundred. Can you count that high?" Mariano nodded. "Good girl. Then after you count that high I want you to go to Mommy and Daddy and give them that."

He curled Mariano's fingers around the scroll and patted them. "Close your eyes, now." He said. "I'll be gone by the time you get to one-hundred."

Mariano did, more tears falling faster. He shuddered into a sob as the weight disappeared from his chest. "One, two," He stammered out.

He didn't hear any footsteps. I didn't hear his window close. By the time he got to the end, he still didn't dare to open his eyes. Blindly, he slid out of bed, still clutching the parchment. He wanted to scream, he wanted to sob, but he didn't want the man to hurt him.

"Your Highness?" The voice of one of the night guards made Mariano jump, a shuddering squeak escaping.

Mariano's eyes flew open, the blurry shape of one of the red-haired elves startling him out of his focus. Tears rolled down his face anew, and when he tried to speak he needed to try a few times to make his voice work. "Dame Annie," He finally managed, holding out the scroll. It was sealed with red wax, pressed with a seal that was different than what his parents used. "There was--there was a monster--there was a man in my room. I need to give this to Mama and Daddy."

"Oh." Dame Annie said, emotions flashing over her face faster than Mariano could understand. "Oh, Princess--" She hurried forward, armor clanking, and delicately scooped Mariano up into her arms. "I have you now, I have you. Let's get you to your parents, you're safe now."

Mariano clung to her, shivering like a leaf. He buried his face in her neck, letting her wrap him up in her cloak. He managing to stay quiet up until Dame Annie burst through the door of his parents chambers. He was good, he obeyed the man, right up until Mama lifted him from her arms.

The moment he smelled Mama's perfume and felt Daddy hug him tight, he burst into loud, cracking sobs. This was safe. No monsters could touch him here. Not ever.

The stars might keep him safe most nights, but no monster could ever hold a candle to Mama or Daddy.

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper

@bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @whumpbees @painful-pooch

[sunshiline-writes]

rainstorm

mega | bluesky

[sunshiline-writes]

There are buildings that you sometimes see, in places where they shouldn't be.

[sunshiline-writes]

You know me far too well I fear. This is lovely.

Part 1 <<< Part 2

Bound by wild desire…

[sunshiline-writes]

Hey! Sorry I must’ve missed it in one of the last pieces, but are they going to flagstaff? Or did Jesse lie?

Thanks!

All will be revealed in the next chapter. MUHAHAHA.

I am in my evil author era.

thank you so much for the ask!! Hope you enjoyed the chappie.

[sunshiline-writes]

A Rose Amidst Thorns #25: Better Choices

Previous | Masterlist | Next

WARNING: I am not tagging certain things this chapter, please consider this Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, if you’ve read this far you should have a sense of what’s up by now so proceed with whatever caution you need.

A/N: Thank you to @coyotehusk (daddy Yote) and Ayz for beta-ing this monstrosity of a chapter. They really made it come to life.

Word Count: 8.2k

There were bugs underneath the bandage on his thigh. He was sure of it. They were crawling around inside it and waiting to jump out at the perfect opportunity, even if Solomon insisted that they weren’t there. It was the stress, Jesse needed more water, or Jesse needed more medicine. But they were there and he could feel them. Even if no one else saw.

Jesse picked at the bandage. They’d been on the road nonstop for three days, trying to stay ahead of Xavier and his men. For all they knew they were trailing right behind. Taking a break would be dangerous. However, Joseph, the guy who seemed to be in charge, insisted that they rest. The horses were on their last legs and so was everyone else. At least this way, everyone got a chance to catch their breath. It was smart and it was dumb at the same time.

Jesse didn’t want to rest. There was always a chance that Xavier would rather run the horses to death than lose their trail. He just didn’t want to ruin what was going so well. It was easy to get caught up in the euphoria of freedom, even though they weren’t even free yet. Not until they crossed the river. Not until they lost him for good. Not until Xavier was dead.

One of the men, a man named Ricardo, had helped him to a mesquite tree to try and avoid the sun beating down on him. The air smelled of dirt and horse shit. For a moment, everything seemed to slow down and the exhaustion from the last few days seemed to weigh heavy in his bones.

He didn’t even register that Henrietta had come up behind the tree until she spoke,“Jesse? Time to change your bandage,” said Henrietta. She had been helping deal with his wound care, simply because Miguel refused to. It was fine. Jesse didn’t blame him. Miguel didn’t have to help him, even if he would have preferred it. Not for any particular reason of course. It would be nice if someone with a little more experience came and did it, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Yeah? Alright then,” Jesse waved her to come closer with a half lidded grin. “We really should be moving but Joey over there says, ‘rest the horses, rest the people’.”

“He’s not wrong. The horses are gonna falter if we don't rest them. Then we won’t be gettin’ nowhere.”

Jesse huffed as Henrietta unwrapped his wound. He expected the bugs to pop out when she did. They did not. They were there, he swore they were.

“It looks good.”

“Hm?” Jesse murmured, only half paying attention to her.

“The wound, it looks good. The rest will do you some good too.”

“Oh.Yeah…You sure it looks good? Hurts like a bitch though.”

“It will. You got shot,” Henrietta said bluntly.

Jesse let out a short laugh. Yeah, he got shot pushing Solomon out of the way. It was a reaction. He and Miguel had locked eyes. There was a silent understanding. Solomon was a man they both respected. Neither of them wanted him to die.

It was weird how they moved at the same time–Miguel locking his teeth into Xavier’s arm and Jesse shoving Solomon to the ground. Working together like that, after everything, it was something he’d never really experienced before. The explosion of pain in his thigh, the way he fell backwards out of the hayloft because of the force of it. How his lungs ached for air when his back hit the barn's dirt floor. It felt all far away. Like it had happened to someone else.

But it had happened to him and he picked at the fresh bandages that confirmed it. His face morphed into a frown. Henrietta smacked at his hand and he looked up meeting her eyes. They were filled with rage, but there was a bit of curiosity there too. Jesse wasn’t sure what she was looking for, he didn’t think she would find it with him.

“Why did you do that? Take the bullet for Solomon?” Henrietta asked abruptly.

“I didn’t want him to die,” Jesse answered honestly, hand going up to rub the sweat off his forehead.

“Did you think it would earn your place on the wagon?”

Jesse frowned, not understanding the question. “What?”

She looked at him like he was the stupidest man in the world, expression shifting to one of disdain. Henrietta tilted her head at him. She really was beautiful. Black eyes with dark skin and curly dark hair that was wild. She changed into a mens shirt and pants. The clothes were ill fitting and yet she was still beautiful. There was hate in her eyes.

“Did you think saving Solomon would make us look at you differently?”

His mouth felt like cotton suddenly and the bugs under the bandage crawled and itched. He shook his head. “No,” he managed to choke out. “Nothin’ I do will make that happen. I know that.”

“Then why?” she asked again, more forceful this time.

“I just didn’ think he should die,” Jesse snapped. “What do ya want me to say, Hen?”

“Jesse people don’t just change, you want something. What is it?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his hands balling into fists. Tilting his head to match hers, he growled, “Jesus Hen. What do ya want me to say? I nev’r wanted Solomon to die. I don’t even wan’ Miguel to die. I jus’ wanted to leave. Needed to get outta there.”

Henrietta leaned in real close to Jesse, she placed her hand on the bandage and put pressure.With a hiss, he jerked back His hand reached to grab hers, but she smacked his hand away again, digging her fingers into the wound. The pain radiated up to his groin and down to his toes as he arched to get away from her. She just followed him, watching him writhe.

“Listen to me Jesse—” She released some of the pressure on his wound. “If you didn’t save Solomon, I would have left you on the barn floor for Xavier to find you. He’d probably have let you bleed out. Hell, I would have let you bleed out.” Jesse choked back a pained sound and Henrietta had a ghost of a smile on her face. “But for some reason, Solomon has a soft spot for you. And that is why you’re here. Why I’m cleaning your wound and bandaging you like you’re fucking twelve years old. It’s why you’re not dead.”

“Get off me, fuckin’ bitch!” Jesse hissed, trying to pull his leg away from her, ignoring the pain that traveled up his leg again at the sudden movement.

“No, I’m not done talking. Shut up.”

Jesse reared his good leg back to kick her away, get her off him. But she just smiled and shook her head. “Don’t. If you do, you’ll die a thousand times over from each of these men that are here with us. Solomon won’t be able to save you.”

His anger filled his chest with a blossoming warmth but he clenched his fists. He set his leg down and shifted his body to lean more against the tree. “Stop hurtin’ me. I’m fuckin’ listening alrigh’?”

Slowly, she retracted her hand and swiped the blood that had come through the bandages on Jesse’s pant leg. Henrietta worked her jaw, stare cold. It was a quick pause, a second of hesitation before she actually started talking, but her words were strong.

“If you try anything at this camp, if you even look at Miguel wrong, I will put a bullet through your head,” she took a deep breath and sighed. “When we get to the river, you’re going to leave. Go the opposite way. Yeah? Say you understand.”

Jesse took a moment to register the words she was saying. Not because he couldn’t understand them, but mostly because she was saying things he already knew. Treating him like he was an idiot. Of course he wouldn’t try anything here. He might be with these people but he wasn’t safe here. He wasn’t stupid or strong enough to even try to mess with Miguel.

“You think you’re real tough, huh? But when it comes down to it, Hen, will you be able to pull the trigger?”

“Just say you understand,” she growled out.

“You ain’t tellin’ me anythin’ I don’ already know. But, sure, I fucking understand. Now can you fuck off and leave me alone? Play torture with someone else.”

Henrietta ground her teeth together before standing up, shaking her head. The boots she wore were covered in dirt. He stared at them for a moment before looking back up at her. She dusted off her pants and stared at him a moment longer.

“Try and get some sleep, we’re gonna be leaving in the night. It’s too damn hot right now to be running the horses hard as we are.”

“Fuck off Henrietta,” Jesse replied.

To his utmost surprise, she walked off toward the wagons which were far ahead. Man, they really had helped him limp to the farthest tree they could possibly find, huh?

Now that Henrietta had mentioned the amount of people around, he took a count. There were seven men and a woman. They all looked rugged and worn. He could have sworn there were more when he led them through the gate. Perhaps some of the ranch hands had gotten to them, dwindling their numbers.

How many people would kill him if he decided to try his luck? How many times over would he die? Would it be worth it?

The image of Yardly and the others on the ground flashed through his mind. Well, at the very least he got some of them too. Life for a life. He hoped that he’d gotten enough to settle the score. It was only right, it was only fair. Jesse knew that well. Everything would catch up eventually, even for him.

He returned his thoughts to the people around him—specifically the men. Jesse only knew the names of a few, like Joseph, who had helped him out of the barn and had helped him limp to the tree. Most of them seemed to be around Solomon’s age. Had they fought in the war? He knew through off-hand comments and eavesdropping that Solomon had been a medic then. Did he know any of them? Were any of these people on the same side? If they were friends with Henrietta, they had most likely fought for the North. The idea of them all being trained filled him with dread.

Maybe he shouldn’t try anything after all.

Suddenly the idea of talking to Miguel at all seemed slightly less appetizing. Besides, it wasn’t like Miguel had even looked at him since the wagon stopped. He seemed to purposefully be avoiding Jesse. He couldn’t blame him. Of course, that didn’t mean that the itch to play with the mutt wasn’t still there. Miguel would be healed enough now right? It had been almost two weeks. It would be fine, right?

Jesse shook away the thoughts. He’d die seven times over, eight with the rage of Henrietta directed at him too. Seven men who probably fought in the war, killing him in creative ways. There wouldn’t even be a fight—not with the injuries he currently had. Even at full capacity, he’d be lucky to get at one of them.

Jesse was stupid, but he wasn’t that stupid.

Maybe he’d try to sleep instead and ignore everything else.

He laid himself down, resting his head on the jacket he’d taken off earlier and folded it into a makeshift pillow. . But trying to find sleep was like attempting to find God in a whorehouse. It was hot and he tried to ignore the sticky feeling of sweat on his skin. His skin was crawling– there were bugs under there, trying to burrow out of his skin, out of the bandage. Jesse twitched, shifting slightly.

God, he couldn’t even try to sleep at this point.

He sat himself up again, wincing as he accidentally tensed up his thigh. Technically he was supposed to stay off it as much as possible, but if he stayed still for another second he was going to explode. So he sat up, twisted himself to his good side, using his knee to lift himself to a standing position. It made him pant, sweat dripping down his back. The sweat hurt, burning his skin off, melting him. World spinning, Jesse took a deep breath and tried to center himself.

It wasn’t just the heat, he knew that. It was the burning pain in his thigh that made him sweat. Henrietta certainly hadn’t helped with that. Pain did that apparently, made you feel hot and cold at the same time. Made you sweat like a pig in summer. Jesse remembered the feeling well. He’d been shot and stabbed before, those were the easy ones. The worst bout of pain he’d ever been in was the royal whipping Xavier had given him once when he was seventeen. The brand too on top of a lash mark or two. It was all burning and cold heat. Maybe he should have taken Solomon’s offer of the painkiller earlier. He was fine before Henrietta squeezed the injury like he was fresh fucking meat. Maybe he’d go ask for that painkiller now.

Yeah, that’s what he’d do.

There was an eerie silence. He knew that there was a small stream somewhere around. Everyone had taken the horses there. The eeriness wasn’t just the silence though, it was the fact that not even the cicadas were singing. Even the trees were standing still. Strange, he’d never had that happen to him. Quiet had never been in his vocabulary, usually things were too loud like crunching dirt underneath boots right next to his ears at all times.

Something clicked behind him.

He froze. Jesse was familiar with that sound– the sound of a cocking gun. His head lifted up and he slowly turned around, only to be met with brown eyes. It took him a second to focus, squinting at the person in front of him. The person stepped forward and his vision cleared a little bit. The eyes were a familiar brown, but the expression in them was something he hadn’t seen since he was nineteen.

“Miguel,” Jesse greeted.

Miguel’s hair was wild and unkempt, his eyes wide and full of hate. Jesse would say he was pretty if there wasn’t a gun pointed right at his face. It was the hands that made Jesse pause from saying anything else. Miguel's left hand, twisted and lumpy, was wrapped around the grip. It looked as though the bones had been broken outwards. Solomon had tried to set them as best he could but there was only so much he could do. His right hand wrapped around the other side of the grip for added stability. Luckily, it had mostly healed-unbroken but not undamaged. Just like the kid himself.

“Whatcha doing there kid?” Jesse asked after a few more moments of silence.

Miguel did not answer. He wondered if he was even reading Jesse’s lips.

“Kid? You–” Jesse paused, “you wanna tell me whatcha thinkin’?”

It wasn’t an attempt to placate. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t work even if he tried. For right now, he had to get Miguel to think about what he was doing. Why was he doing it? Jesse knew why. The things he’d done were...less than favorable. He knew that; he was no stranger to the idea.

There was a sound behind Miguel.Jesse squinted to see only to be distracted as Miguel stepped forward again, getting closer. Oh. Miguel wanted Jesse to look at him. He could do that. Jesse lifted his gaze to look Miguel in the eye again.

“Hey! Miguel! Put that down! What the hell are ya doing kid?” cried a voice out from behind Miguel past the point where Jesse could see more than a blur. It sounded like Joseph.

“Uh… kid can’t hear you man,” Jesse called out, not breaking eye contact with Miguel. “It’s alright.”

Another voice popped up. This one, more familiar. Soft and baritone with a slight breathy accent. Solomon.

“Miguel?” Solomon paused. “Jesse what did you do?”

“I ain’t do nothing,” Jesse snapped. “I was tryna nap and Miguel showed up and, well, here we are.”

“Don’t move Jesse. Let me get in his eyesight–”

“No,” Jesse interrupted. “No. Whatever he does right now. It’s gotta be him. Gotta be his choice.”

The sound of movement stopped. They knew he was right. Whatever happened right now, this was Miguel’s choice. His first real choice since he’d come to the ranch. This wasn’t the first time Jesse had been targeted by Miguel. However, this time felt real. It didn’t feel like this even when Miguel had dinged him with a shovel. Miguel meant it this time. This wasn’t some spur of the moment, desperate attempt to stay alive. He’d come into this with the full intent to kill him.

Miguel finally broke his eye contact, glancing at the floor and pointing at it with his gun. Jesse took a moment to realize what he wanted him to do.

Kneel.

Ha. No fucking way.

“Go on then,” Jesse said, his voice softer than he meant it to be, “do what you gotta do Miguel. But I ain’t begging, if you wanna shoot me, you shoot me on my feet. I ain’t never begged you for nothing an’ I ain’t startin’ now.”

Miguel took another step forward. Jesse could probably reach the gun if he wanted to, grab it by the barrel and wrestle him to the ground. But he didn’t want to. If he died here and now, Jesse wouldn’t care much.

It’s not like he knew what he was going to do after they got to the river. Jesse felt lost. Aimless. Nobody would miss him. His kids were too young to really know him. The world would go on as it always did. They wouldn’t be known as the Reede kids at least, he insisted they have their mothers names. It wasn’t customary but it made Jesse feel better. Besides, Kassidy and David Reede didn’t seem right. Kassidy Hill and David Jameson were far better names. He had given them three quarters of his allowance every month for years. This final time he’d given them the entirety of it, told them to get out of town. Jesse could only pray that they actually took his advice.

Jesse waited. It felt like hours even though he knew it was seconds. God he wished Miguel would just shoot him. The gun was there in the kids' hands. The barrel stared him down. Jesse wished he’d put it down or just pull the trigger.

Pull the trigger.

Pull the trigger.

The bugs underneath his skin skittered and Jesse shivered.

“Miguel,” he said, “if you’re gonna do it? Do it.”

Pull the trigger.

Bugs crawling everywhere.

Pull the trigger.

Miguel’s expression shifted. His features softened and his brows unfurrowed. The gun lowered down to Jesse’s feet instead of in his face. He expected to be able to breathe again, like a weight would be lifted. But it was strangely quiet. Normal.

Ignoring the pain in his leg, Jesse closed the space between them. His hand covered Miguel’s as he took the gun from him. A moment of skin on skin contact, probably his last with Miguel. Solomon rushed forward and Jesse held up his hands in surrender. Then he flipped the gun in his hand, holding it out to Solomon by the handle. When Solomon took it, Jesse looked back down at Miguel, meeting his eyes.

He signed as he spoke, just to make sure Miguel understood everything he was saying.

“Next time you point a gun at me? You better pull the fucking trigger.”

Then he pushed past him, brushing shoulders with him as he walked away. Let Solomon dote and worry over him. Jesse was too tired, he really needed that nap and now it was ruined.

Fuck.

Everything was ruined… He'd ruined… everything...

The bugs under his skin were threatening to explode out. His mind was spinning as he headed toward the wagon. There were people all around, talking and chatting idly. Back from the lake. They didn’t know, did they? That he wasn’t supposed to be here? That Miguel was about to shoot him? They didn’t know. They didn’t know. Miguel should have pulled the trigger. Should have pulled the trigger. Everyone was staring at him. Staring at him. Miguel should have pulled the trigger.

Pain worked its way up to his groin and down to his knee. He really needed to stay off the leg didn’t he? Solomon said to stay off it. Solomon was with Miguel. Everything was spinning.

Jesse turned around to go back into the desert and maybe disappear into it. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, when he turned around gray eyes stared into his.

“Ay, you okay kid? You don’t look so good,” Joseph said, brows furrowed with mock concern. He couldn’t possibly be looking at him like that.

“Don’t,” Jesse mumbled, stumbling backward a little, “Don’t touch me fucker.”

Joseph simply took a few steps forward and placed a hand on Jesse’s forehead. His hand felt deceptively cool. The sun bearing down on them didn't help with the sensation of things crawling under his skin. Joseph frowned and hummed slightly.

“You’re hot.”

“Huh?”

“Have you been drinking water, son?”

Jesse shoved the hand off his forehead, stepping backward again away from Joseph. He shook his head, feeling like the world fell from underneath him. The man was talking but everything was muffled. His mouth filled with saliva and he hunched over to the side of Joseph and retched. His muscles contracted and there was a burning sensation in the back of his sinuses. The man grabbed him, half holding him up, one hand rubbing Jesse’s back.

When Jesse finished, Joseph helped him to the wagon, sitting him behind the wheel where there was shade. There was the terrible taste of bile in his mouth and everything swayed under him. There were things crawling under his skin and he wanted to rip off the bandage. His clothes too. Everything was sticking to him.

“Kid?” The voice brought him back to the present as he was presented with a waterskin. “You gotta drink the water. Think you’ve got some heat sickness goin’ on.”

His breath caught in his throat, his mouth was dry. Jesse took the waterskin and gently he poured the water into his mouth. It washed the taste of bile out of his mouth and suddenly he was carefully chugging the rest of it.

“Do you really not like water?” Joseph asked, looking at his waterskin. “Henrietta mentioned that you didn’t like water.”

“Why she talkin’ about me huh? What the fuck do you care?”

Joseph hummed softly and smiled at him. “I don’t really, but you were spinning out there. Looked like you were about to pass out. Was it the heat? Or was it the kid?”

“What the fuck are ya talkin’ about man?”

“Miguel? With the gun. Was it the heat or did you get,” he paused, struggling to find the words, “did you get scared?”

Scared? Why would he ever be scared of Miguel? The kid couldn’t pull the trigger and maybe he should have. His chest started to feel heavy again and the water sloshed in his empty stomach.

“I don’t mind water, I just don’t like being wet,” Jesse mumbled, ignoring the question. He leaned his head back against the wheel, closing his eyes. “I just... It's hot out. Real hot.”

“Yeah it is,” Joseph sighed and Jesse opened his eyes again. “Feeling a bit better? Stay in the shade for a while.”

There was a few moments of silence before Joseph spoke again, much to Jesse’s dismay.

“Why’d he point the gun at you?”

Jesse shifted against the wheel and gave him a half hearted smile. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone? First Henrietta fucking with his bullet wound, then Miguel pointing a gun at him, now this fucking guy wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

Why? This fucking guy wanted to know why. He squinted at Joseph, studying his face. His expression was neutral as he leaned against the wagon. Arm crossed over his chest.

“Drink some more water. Why’d he point the gun at you? He looked pretty serious. Shoved Solomon when he tried to talk to him.”

He took a few more sips before frowning. So Miguel wasn’t talking to anyone, it seemed.

Jesse smiled, “He wanted to kill me. He wasn’t pointing. The kid was plannin’.”

“Yeah? Why?” Joseph asked.

Jesse scoffed, rolling his eyes as he sipped some more of the water. “You tellin’ me queen bitch over there hasn’t already said everything I’ve done?”

“Don’t call her that,” Joseph warned, expression darkening for a moment. “She’s told me some things and I’ve heard some from Isabella. But mostly, I’m in the dark here.” He leaned on the wagon, folding his arms over each other, looking expectantly at Jesse.

“I don’t need to tell ya shit man.”

“Really? I don’t know. Maybe I want to know who I’m travelin’ with. Why does it seem like everyone wants to kill you?”

“I dunno, maybe I just have that effect on people,” Jesse replied helpfully with a laugh. He brought the waterskin to his mouth again for another sip. “I’ve done a lot of shit.”

The man hummed and a breeze carried through. The coolness of it stuck to the sweat on his skin. It was a strange mixture of disgust and relief, making Jesse shiver and clench his fist. He pushed away the odd mixture of feelings, trying to focus on the scene in front him. The men were talking amongst themselves wiping down the horses underneath the mesquite trees with wet rags. Isabella, Henrietta, Miguel and Solomon were somewhere he couldn’t see. Everyone seemed to be in their own world, doing their own things. As if Jesse wasn’t just threatened. His world was spinning and everyone else was going in slow motion.

“Are you even sorry?” Joseph asked suddenly.

“Huh?” Jesse snapped his head toward Joseph, licking his lips. “What the fuck kinda question is that?”

“Mmm, maybe you’re not.”

“So you know what I’ve done. Why even ask?”

Joseph laughed, crouching down to Jesse’s level and tilting his head to the side. The man was watching him carefully. Staring into his goddamn soul.

“Just askin’ to ask.. To see what kinda person you are. You really don’t even regret a single bit of it, do you?”

Did he? Jesse thought for a moment. There were certain things he knew that were wrong, sure. There were certain things he would have done differently. He didn’t know if he regretted any of it.

“Nothin’ I can do about it now. Jus’ gotta keep going.”

Joseph’s brows furrowed at Jesse and he made a humming noise. Then he smiled.

“You really believe that don’t you?”

Jesse shrugged and sighed, “Yeah. What are they gonna do? Forgive me?”

It would be impossible after everything he’d done. Jesse was aware of everything. There was a whole list that would make anyone want to kill him. How do you come back from it? Was there a way? Jesse didn’t think so. There was only moving forward.

“No, they can’t. But when you leave at the river? You can choose to be different than what you are right now, kid.”

“Different how?” Jesse asked, sipping at the water and relishing the coolness of another gust of wind. He didn’t know how he could possibly be different than how he was now. What could he do that could make up for everything?

“Make different choices. Be better. You’re right, you can’t go back. But in order to go forward, you gotta want to be different. Genuinely different.”

Jesse scoffed, shaking his head, “You’re making it sound easy.”

“It ain't easy. But you’re gonna die if you keep doing what you’re doing.”

His mouth went dry again and he sipped at the last bit of the water in the waterskin before he handed it back to Joseph. Jesse closed his eyes and leaned his head back again on the wheel. He brought his good leg up, knee to his chest and rested his chin on it.

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed slowly.

Joseph seemed to notice that Jesse was done talking after a long bout of silence. Sighing before pushing himself off the wagon and tipping his hat to Jesse. Then he walked away going toward the men rubbing down the horses.

Honestly, Jesse was unsure if he wanted to kill Joseph or just take his leave now. Ask for his gun, take his things and just leave. Go out on his own now. With his wound now, he’d never make it very far. The thing he hated the most was that Joseph was right, but he had no idea how to do it. All he was ready for was to leave. Finally be alone for a while.

He’d broken away from Xavier and now he had to figure out what to do without his uncle over his shoulder. How many things did Jesse do just because Xavier told him to do it? How many people did he kill? How many whores did he screw? God. He’d never even tried, did he? Jesse was so tired and in pain. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Jesse just wanted to escape his own head, his own thoughts.

Bugs crawled all over his body and skin. They were under the skin, under and around his veins. God he wanted so badly to just tear his own skin off.

Miguel really should have pulled the trigger.

Jesse groaned and moved to rest his forehead against his knee instead. He took a deep breath, exhaustion weighing him down. The bugs crawling under his skin made him feel too wired to actually fall asleep. At the very least he could rest his eyes a bit.

***

It took three more days to reach the river. Jesse had spent most of it in the wagon. It was the only time he could get some sleep. They were kind to him for reasons he couldn’t understand. Making sure that his wound healed. The wound still hurt but keeping the weight off it helped, allowing it to finally scab over. The bruising around it was still a deep purple and tender to the touch. Better than the raw meat it had been three days ago.

The bugs had gone from the wound and now had taken their usual residence under the skin in his arms. The sound of rushing water was music to his ears. The moon was high in the sky, stars were out and the air was cool. The pale light of the moon reflected off the water and everyone started to chatter in excitement.

Finally, they were here. They stopped the horses at the edge of the river, letting them wade in and take drinks. Some of the men were refilling the water basins, taking them off the wagon. Jesse slid off the wagon as they dragged the basins off. He ran a hand through his hair and cringed at the tangles that had taken residence there. Immediately he turned to grab his knapsack. Slinging it over his shoulder. His leg burned as he put more weight on him.

Solomon came over to him holding a giant ass stick. He held it out to Jesse vertically.

“It’ll help you keep the pressure off your leg,” he said, voice soft.

Jesse took it and leaned on it. He looked back at Solomon and sighed. The man looked tired, but that was nothing new. Solomon had a splint on his wrist from where Xavier had crushed it, his braids were unkempt and messy, practically half falling out.

“You don’t have to leave now. You could get some more sleep tonight. We’re going to leave in the morning,” Solomon offered.

He couldn’t help but smile. Shaking his head, “Nah Sol. I appreciate it but I gotta go man. I ain’t welcome here.”

Solomon looked back at Miguel who was staring at them, feet in the river. As if that would protect him. Yeah, Jesse was sure he’d get killed by the kid if he stayed a minute longer than he said he would. Besides, Jesse was looking forward to the solitude.

The older man took a step toward him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Be safe Jesse.”

His chest felt like he was going to explode. Throat closing up, he nodded. Solomon was good. Not like him. Jesse was nothing like him. But it meant everything that Solomon still saw him as someone worthy of saying goodbye to.

“Thank you Solomon. Mind point’n me in the right direction?”

Solomon nodded before working his jaw. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Not really,” Jesse admitted with a short laugh, “I figured I would just walk till I hit something good ya know?”

“I heard Denver is a good city.”

“Yeah... maybe Denver,” Jesse agreed with a small smile.

“Go North. Upstream. You’ll come into Colorado territory eventually. Before you go, I want to give you more supplies. Some net and fishing line. Your gun back, a knife. Just... things to keep you safe and let you get some food on your way there.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. Solomon really didn’t have to do this. He didn’t deserve it. Even being on the wagon, he didn’t deserve it. This was more than he could have hoped for. Jesse waited as Solomon went to collect his things.

As he waited, Henrietta came up to him. Staring into his soul like he had been kicking the local puppy again.

“I’m leavin’. Don’ go diggin’ your fingers in my wound jus’ yet,” Jesse said.

Henrietta rolled her eyes, “Alright, yeah, I jumped the gun on that one. I-” she paused for a moment, “I apologize.”

Jesse simply raised his brows at her and huffed a breath. Henrietta seemed to ignore his lack of commentary and continued on with her own.

“Anyway, I just,” she seemed to have trouble formulating the words, “you be careful, ya hear?”

Aw. She did care. How cute.

“Yeah I will,” he assured with a laugh. “Don’t get so sappy, Hen. You’ll explode or somethin’.”

She shot him a glare. Jesse and her never really got along in the first place. They had been civil around each other as much as possible. But Jesse wasn’t interested in having a mom and Hernietta wasn’t interested in having a kid. Not that either of them would have been any good at playing those parts anyway. That was one thing they could agree on at least.

“I’m not getting sappy. I’m just saying. Don’t let him catch you. Don’t let him try and bring you back to the way things were.”

Jesse paused for a moment glancing at the river where Miguel was standing. He was still watching. The kid wouldn’t stop looking until he was gone. Miguel was intent on watching Jesse disappear into the desert, probably imagining him dying of thirst.

Don’t let him catch you. Jesse looked at Henrietta. Her hair tied back, looking more at ease than he’d ever seen her. He bit the inside of his cheek harder, iron filling his mouth before he swallowed it down and spoke, “If he catches you? You don’t hesitate. Henrietta you can’t let him take you back either. You get the chance? Pull the fuckin’ trigger.”

She had to be braver than Jesse could ever be. It was strange really, seeing someone who was supposed to be family. Become a monster over years and years. He wasn’t always bad, his uncle. When his mother was still alive, Xavier was actually kind. Jesse would have never imagined that Xavier would be so… hateful afterwards. He could have never expected the way things would change. There was nothing that prepared someone for the dramatic change of someone you love turning into a monster. There was also nothing that could prepare someone for the change it does to you either, being a subject to the monster's whims. Jesse was sure he would have turned out different had Xavier been different too.

But life doesn’t give people fair chances. Sometimes, the hands that are dealt are what they are. Jesse did with what he had.

Maybe he could change. Start fresh. If Xavier tried to take that from him, he’d put his finger on the trigger. That was a promise to himself.

“I’ll pull the trigger Jesse,” she agreed half heartedly.

“No Hen. I mean it. You gotta pull the trigger. You can’t have a second guess or decide that he doesn’t deserve it.”

“I know, I know. You do something for me too, yeah?”

“What?”

“You do better Jesse.”

Do better. He had to do better. What was it Joseph said? Make better choices? Jesse couldn’t promise anything. He could try though. Try to do something different. Couldn’t go back but he can go forward. It’s all he could do. The thing was, he couldn’t fix any of it. He couldn't make people forgive him. Hell he didn’t even want to ask them too. There was no point to any of it.

“Yeah. I’ll try,” he replied. There was nothing else to say.

“Good Jesse. Good,” Henrietta looked like she wanted to say something else but as she opened her mouth, Solomon came back with the supplies in a bag.

“I packed you some jerky too. Food and an extra waterskin-”

Jesse took the bag from Solomon and slung it over his shoulder, forcing a grin on his face. God everything felt like it was cracking, even his skin. His body was thrumming with energy. The bugs under his skin made him twitch slightly, his neck creaking with the movement.

“Thanks Solomon,” he looked at Henrietta next. “I hope I never see any of you again.”

Henrietta laughed and leaned into Solomon, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah Jesse. I hope we never see you either. Be safe.”

“Gotcha.”

Then he looked at the river one last time and saw Miguel. The kid was so angry. Jesse hoped that wouldn’t consume him. Anger had a way of tearing a life apart. Ha. Jesse was a hypocrite thinking like that wasn’t he? Oh well.

Jesse took a step forward, then another and he followed the stream upwards. He heard that it was colder up there, it snowed even. Jesse had never seen snow. Solomon had talked a bit about the snow that he lived with. Frozen lakes and a blanket of white on everything. It would be nice to see something like that.

Keep moving forward.

***

It took him two days of following the river to run out of the food that Solomon had packed him. He'd been traveling at night. It was too hot in the day to do much. Not with all the sweat that soaked his clothes and made his mind fuzzy. Being wet like that always made his mind swim. Besides, traveling at night was better anyway, even if it was nearly impossible to sleep under the scorching sun. He enjoyed the way the moon shone off the river. Part of him thought to put his feet in the water, but he couldn't stop thinking about how his feet would melt off as soon as they came free of his boots. Then he'd be really useless.

Stupid thought. Not rational. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of bugs crawling out of his skin the more he thought about it.

He walked along the river's edge until the bank turned to rock. Before long, he was standing on the cliff edge, the river somewhere in the distance behind him. Now that the sound of the river had started to fade away, Jesse could feel the tension starting to bleed from his body.

He was tired. It was making his thoughts worse. So he stopped for a second. A rest would do him some good. Jesse set his pack down searching for the last piece of jerky he could have sworn he saved for later. No luck. He’d go fishing tomorrow. For now, he just needed some sleep.

Jesse took off his jacket and rolled it up into a ball. Then he took his gun from his holster, laying it on the ground before placing the bundle on top of it. It was a fucked up version of a pillow, but at least it was something, he thought as he laid his head on it. Closing his eyes for just a moment. Exhaustion overtook him and he was out like a light.

There was something watching him. Jesse immediately woke, grogginess barely affecting him. He laid still, hand clenching around the handle of his gun.

“I know you’re awake, kid. Get the fuck up.”

Xavier.

A gun clicked and it wasn’t his. Jesse was learning to hate that sound.

Pull the trigger.

“Get the fuck up Jesse, “ Xavier said again.

Jesse’s heart pounded so hard that his chest hurt. “Leave that gun there.”

Jesse let go of the handle of the gun and slowly pushed himself to sit up. Back still facing Xavier, his throat began to close up. Jesse was sure his heart was going to explode. The sound of the running water was also too loud. He swallowed down the fear.

“You caught up to me,” he said slowly.

“Look at me when you talk, you little shit,” Xavier growled.

Jesse inhaled sharply and slowly turned over to look up at his uncle. The man looked terrifying. Dressed in all black, there was a cut on his forehead that went down to his temple. It looked ugly and Jesse knew Xavier probably hated that shit. He remembered how angry Xavier was when Miguel had headbutted him so hard that it split his lip. Xavier still had that scar too. Xavier seemed unable to stop running his hands through his hair judging by how disheveled it was. Dark circles colored the skin just below bloodshot eyes.

“You look like shit Tío.”

He didn’t even have time to brace himself. Pain blossomed in his temple and suddenly his cheek was on the ground. A pulsating, sharp pain stuck to his skin.

“GET UP,” Xavier snapped.

Jesse pushed himself up to a sitting position again, feeling something warm trickle down his neck. Fuck, he was bleeding. Jesse lifted a hand to his temple, vision blurring, but it came away hot and wet. Wet. He suppressed a whimper, looking up at Xavier.

“Was that-”

“Stop talking. Shut up for once in your fuckin’ miserable life.”

His mouth snapped shut and he swallowed back bile. Jesse’s stomach churned and he watched Xavier crouch down to level with him, gun still pointed at his forehead.

“I’m only gonna ask this once Jesse,” Xavier pressed the barrel directly against the skin on his forehead. It was cold. “Where the fuck are they?”

Man, he was really in it now wasn’t he? Xavier was here in front of him. He only had one good leg, his gun was in reach but he’d never be able to grabit, and there was nothing he could do. Jesse could save his own ass. Just give it up. There would be a chance that Xavier would keep him alive if he did.

Choose to be better.

God fucking damn it.

God fucking damn it.

Why was he listening to those fuckers?

“I dunno Tío. Somewhere out there.”

Xavier growled, pressing the gun into his skull so hard that Jesse tried to lean away from it.

“You’re gonna tell me on three or I’ll fucking kill you Jesse. How many men did you think you could kill and not get consequences for? Hm? Maybe I’ll hang you in the barn like I did the dog huh?”

His mouth felt dry as cotton and he stared at Xavier defiantly. Then he gave Xavier his most stellar grin.

“You can do that. But I ain’t tellin’ you shit Xavier.”

Xavier uncocked the pistol and looked over Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse took the opportunity to look past Xavier at the ranch hands behind him. No more Yardly, no more Lenny or Vincent. There were a lot of people missing. Oh man, he was so dead either way. If not Xavier murdering him, it would be the ranch hands.

Something tugged at an alarm in his brain. He turned his head to where Xavier was looking. It clicked before Xavier grabbed him, twisting a fist in Jesse’s hair and yanking him upward to stand. Jesse hissed and his own hand grabbed at Xavier’s wrist. His scalp was filled with millions of tiny needles and it pulled at the open wound on his temple. He stumbled as Xavier started half dragging Jesse to the edge of the cliff.

“Wait, wait, wait, Tío, Tío, wait, WAIT,” Jesse screamed as Xavier took them to the edge.

“One last chance Jesse,” Xavier said, twisting his hand in Jesse’s hair and craning his neck back so his throat was bared to Xavier. “Tell me where they’re going.”

God. He was gonna die like this. Fitting. To die by being thrown into the river. He couldn’t even…

The knife. He still had the knife in his belt. His hand reached down to snatch the handle and he twisted in Xaviers grip. Jesse thrust the knife forward aiming for his gut, trying to create separation between them. Xavier’s other hand grabbed the wrist of the hand that had the knife and twisted, making Jesse cry out. He tried to force it into Xavier, pushing past the pain. Fucking Xavier was stronger than him in every way possible. Xavier brought up his knee and slammed Jesse’s wrist against it. The knife clattered into the dirt and Xavier pushed Jesse backward.

Jesse stumbled to the side barely missing the cliff edge.

“Did you really think that would work?” Xavier asked, panting heavily. Less with exertion and more with anger. He picked up the knife from the dirt, pointing it at Jesse. “Did you really think you could beat me? What did I ever do to you huh? I took you in. I made sure you were fed, you had clothes, money. You were supposed to be my heir Jesse. The ranch was supposed to be fucking yours.”

“I never wanted it,” Jesse screamed back, voice cracking. “I never wanted it,” he said again, softer this time.

Xavier’s expression darkened. “Don’t worry, I’ll find another heir. I’ll find Henrietta and if she doesn’t work out. There’s always David.”

“No, please no.”

“Tell me where she is, or I’ll keep you alive, take you home, grab your kids and make you fucking watch as I slit their throats and bleed them out like pigs.”

Make better choices.

What was the better choice here? What was he supposed to do? What was the better choice when all the choices were fucking impossible? It was give up the people that saved him or risk his children getting fucking gutted in front of him.

Damn it all, he never had a fucking chance did he? He was never going to make it to Colorado.

God fucking damn it. He tried.

“They’re down river,” Jesse said softly, swallowing thickly. “They’re going to Flagstaff, where Sol’s family’s from.” He stared up at Xavier from the ground and the shadow reached a hand out to him.

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?”

There was no choice except to accept the hand that hurt him. The hand that threatened him, his kids, everything. Jesse shakily took it and Xavier pulled him in close.

Jesse heard it before he felt it. The sound of flesh splitting apart of the knife twisting in his abdomen. Then the pain, bright, vibrant, and drowning everything else out. One hand grabbed at Xavier’s hand that held the knife. His eyes were wide and he looked into the eyes of the man who raised him. There was no warmth in those eyes. Green like oil slick.

“You should have told me the first time I asked you,” Xavier said softly as he pulled the knife out.

Jesse’s eyes burned from tears. He pressed his hands against the fresh wound, feeling blood pooling into his palms. He couldn’t even think about the wetness of it all. The pain was too great. Everything burned; his scalp, his leg, his stomach, and even his goddamn chest.

“You could have had everything, Jesse,” Xavier said. “But you’ll be alright. I’ll fix you up and bring you home.” There was no tenderness, no love in the words. He would be going back to be tortured over and over again.

Jesse felt a bubble of hysteria come up from his throat. His knees gave out and Xavier caught him in a weird sort of embrace. Laughing, blood came up on his lips. Jesse coughed, spots of dark red splattering on Xavier’s shirt. He pressed his forehead into his uncle’s shoulder.

What was it that Henrietta told him?

“Don’t let him try and bring you back to the way things were.”

Jesse would not go back.

“Fuck you,” Jesse said, before pushing himself off Xavier. He stepped backwards and there was nothing under his feet.

Then he was falling.

Down…

Mom.

Down…

Can you forgive me?

Down.

I tried.

Jesse was unconscious before he even hit the water.

____

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy @badgerwhump @whumpbees @whumplr-reader @cyberwhumper @demondamage @angst-after-dark @just-a-silly-little-whumper @tictac-murder-spaghetti @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @jumpywhumpywriter

[sunshiline-writes]

lets scream with mama

[sunshiline-writes]

roads, ruins, remains. all essential for a wanderer like you

[sunshiline-writes]

horse commission for @visdiefje !

[sunshiline-writes]

For Miguel: 5. First time breaking a bone? 20. First time they felt accepted/welcomed by another character

For you: 📦 - First story that really took you outside your comfort zone

:)

Thanks for the ask Yote and Happy Birthday!! Sorry it took so long to answer lol.

From THIS ask game

___

For Miguel:

5. First time breaking a bone? Actually.. Miguel's first time breaking a bone was when Xavier crushes his hand under his boot. He'd never really had a chance to break a bone before or had simply been lucky enough not to. 20. First time they felt accepted/welcomed by another character

Miguel first felt welcomed by Solomon. Even if his initial response to Solomon trying to help him was to bite the ever loving SHIT out of his hand. When Solomon came back the first day and started signing to him, he kinda felt more welcomed than he ever had even with his own family. Miguel of course didn't admit this until several years later. FOR ME??? jk jk: 📦 - First story that really took you outside your comfort zone

Probably Colors of the End. It's got a lot of world building that I still need to do BECAUSE it's so out of my usual writings of historical fictions. It's sci-fi fantasy and tends to stump me when I'm trying to write for it because I don't have all the world building done for it yet lol. And the characters are younger than what I usually write too but that's what makes it fun!

[sunshiline-writes]

how's 8 for solomon, R for sol & henrietta (friend ship best ship) and 🖌️ for you for the oc/ship ask game? :3

Thanks for the ask Coy!! Sorry it took so long to answer lol.

From THIS ask game

___

For Solomon: 8.) The first time they took a risk, or the biggest risk they've ever taken

The biggest risk he ever took was traveling around to become a doctor. He couldn't find anyone to apprentice him because of the fact that he is Native American but he never gave up. He found a man who would take him and he studied under him. Then he served as a medic in the Civil War. Solomon & Henrietta: R- First time cooking for the other

Henrietta usually cooks dinner for the household so I'll do Solomon. Solomon first cooked for Henrietta when she moved in after her marriage to Xavier. Solomon thought it was a nice surprise. She almost cried because no one had ever done that for her before. Later she found out that Solomon didn't eat meat and still cooked some for her. For Me: 🖌️ - First Character I ever created or wrote for

GOD. This is an old one. I only have a few things from way back in middle school for this character. But her name was Jayan (don't ask) and she was literally a rp character I had with two friends that I wrote a mini novella that was a horror story about her. This was fun! Thank you so much for the ask Coy.

[sunshiline-writes]

28 for the ask game!

Thanks for the ask Cyber!! From THIS ask game. __

28.) Favourite songs at the moment? There are so many but I'll name a few.

Hamburguesas - Carolina Durante Elige Tu Propia Adventura - Carolina Durante Spaceman - The Killers

Oldies Station - Twenty One Pilots

Navigating - Twenty One Pilots

[sunshiline-writes]

Writer (& Artist) Ask Game

Reblog this and let your pals ask about your OCs, stories, or about you! Remember to check your inbox, and feel free to tag someone you want to see play :)

* Who was your first ever OC? Do you still “use” them? How have they evolved over time?

Who is your newest OC? Why did you make them?

Biggest self-insert OC?

What kind of music do your OCs listen to?

What are some of your OCs biggest fears?

Do you have any OCs without stories? Will you ever create one for them?

What are your favourite relationships between your OCs? (romantic or platonic!)

Do you have any OC family trees?

Favourite OC?

OC you most struggled to make?

* Sum up one or more of your wips!

Which story took the most research?

Which story has the most lore?

Current word count of all your main wips?

How many projects do you have going on right now? Are there any that you doubt you’ll ever finish?

What was you first major project? How far along is it?

What are some tropes and character dynamics found in your wips?

Describe the setting of one or more of your wips

What are some things that inspired your stories? Real events? Maybe a dream?

What story are you the proudest of? Why?

* When did you start considering yourself a writer/artist?

What are all the “kinds” of writing/art you do? (short stories, poetry, screenplays, digital, painting, clay, etc.)

Are you in any writer/artist groups? (Ex: discord server!)

Do you have/want a career in your medium? If not, what do you do/want to do instead?

What’s your favourite genre to write? Is it also your favourite genre to read?

What are your favourite books?

What are your favourite movies?

 Favourite songs at the moment?

What was your first fandom you were in? Did you make any art/fanfic for it?

How are you doing? <3

Ask away!

[sunshiline-writes]

cuz you had a bad day 🎶 ✨

[sunshiline-writes]

a flat color portrait of my dear friend @sunshiline-writes's baby boy MIGUEL whomst I love so so so much. THANK YOU SUNNY he was a joy to draw 🥺🥺🥺