The system had started as a way to curb crime in the mid 2030s. Prisoners had been given the option to join the contracted worker system (slavery – but no one dared call it that), and years would be taken off of their sentences. Power leads to corruption leads to more power leads to more corruption. Ten years in, coercion was readily used to force criminals into the system. Twenty years in, rights started being stripped. Now, within a 60 year old system that has expanded beyond anyone's control, a U.S. Senator finds himself holding the contract of the favorite worker of one of the most powerful men in the country.
Belleview Masterlist
On the outside, it is a beautiful campus. Elegant in its simplicity, with three brick buildings forming a crescent at the mouth of a long, rose-bush lined drive that intersects wrought iron gates. On the inside, what was once a testing grounds for training tools, drugs, or whatever other uses could be found for workers who were deemed unable to be placed, is now a temporary housing center for those same workers. Tasked with keeping the inhabitants alive and 'comfortable' while the government figures out a real plan, Doctor Lincoln Prescott spends his days learning the true horrors of the system, while carving a safe-haven out of the very institution that previously housed unfathomable misery.
Derek’s Back Masterlist
Eight years ago, a group of college friends spent the summer backpacking in Turkey. Seven years ago, all but one returned. Derek had been left behind, in one of the most brutal prison systems in the modern world. It was 3:17 AM on one arbitrary Tuesday night when Jack got the call. Derek was being released.
Hi hello again! Ive been thinking over your last reply, re-reading some of The Fighter, and thinking up big questions/narrowing them down for you. Here's what I have so far(hopefully no more to come, because this is a hefty list)
-WILL. What happens to him; what does he mean to Leo post-contract; what does Leo mean to will; do they ever see each other again??? Will is in fact a big deal to me in the story
- Is Luke on the Aro/Ace spectrum??? Totally valid if unconfirmed or if hes just not, but that would be. Really cool
- So curious about Parker and his reappearances. Specifically with the fundraiser, and then separately(?) the recapture. (Definitely me fishing for a fic here, ive been itching for y e a r s) did not realize that those are different events! And im realizing now that event is probably definitely not the end to Leo/Luke's misery.
-Because apparently, someone torures and attempts murder on Luke, in front of Leo(thats like his worst fear too 😃)? And I'm assuming this is later in the timeline? OH and hes kidnapped/taken away by the government?? Also curious about this and what happens to Leo while theyre separated?
-Last one, Leo's family :) just curious about how the reunion actually goes, what they think of Luke.
-and towards the middle of re-reading and gathering questions, I came to the conclusion that Will might be/probably is dead :/ cant believe you've done this
- . . . that forbidden question though :T
ok saving a copy of this as a draft [so i can answer the actual ask but keep track of the requests] but didn't want it to live in the askbox for the next 5-9 business years because it is so thoughtful and i appreciate your asks so much (and when i hold asks until i'm ready to produce real answers, that sometimes leads to incredibly long askbox waits *eyes the ones from 2020*)
all that to say THANK YOU for being here i think since like close to the start (???) and for still caring enough reread and send this. on that note, i can confirm tha-
t will is still alive, and will re-emerge in leo's life in some capacity in the future.
i'll try to tackle some of these (they all ar, in the queue of things i want to write, timeline tbd...)
Watched a lot of Jack Wolfe videos today and im craaaaving river now. Do you have anything to share?
i don't! the only semi-complete piece is the one called river - burned which i've shared some snippets of (it's been marinating for the better part of a year), but put another one below!
that said, i have had the wildest june of all time but tomorrow have almost nothing to do sooo
poll time:
plz just finish river - burned and post the mfer its been marinating too long
the one where felix bathes river pre shutdown can never post too many baths
something post shutdown AND post belleview future jump
something with jake
more five sentence fics
Voting ended onJul 3, 2025
here's another part from river - burned:
“Temp’s still climbing,” one of the nurses says, but Katherine remains at River’s head, petting through his hair, encouraging him to hold still. She doesn’t attend to what the others are saying or doing.
Blood pools under River’s nose, and he starts gasping. His heart rate keeps climbing.
“Administer Tramadol,” Jones says, and the nurse moves to the IV.
“Hold still,” Dr. Jones says then, but then River is panicking, and then River is rolling to the side, and then River is choking back a scream.
“Easy t– what’s his name?” Jones says to Katherine.
“River,” she responds automatically.
“Just try to focus on breathing, River,” Jones says, his fingers pressing into the back of River's neck in a bid to prevent him from rolling further.
He doesn’t. Instead, he tries to sit up, and almost instantly, passes out.
Hi, so. I miss Leo. And I have so many questions about him and what happened during the gaps in story posts. Just wanted to let you know im thinking about you both, and Luke too I guess.
I have been thinking about Luke recently and the development of their romantic relationship, which I also have so many questions about.
Anyway, sending love and hope for a new drabble in the near future 🫰🏼
(Also, obviously no pressure at all, the world is fucking crazy and im proud of you for just being here 💅🏼)
thank you for sending this!! i miss him too, and i fear i probably have many of the same questions, until something is written edited and posted for consumption, it's all subject to change in my mind, i'm sure their background has changed 1000 times over :) - any top priority questions/requests if i were to chase down some motivation to put something together?
ps im so happy you're still around on here, this isn't over just a deep deep sleep, but if you have a big question, i suppose even the forbidden one, let me know, maybe i'll encourage me to commit to some plot
you should post the harrison and aiden bath scene!! if you want to!!
This is in the AU. You know, the one I still pretend isn't a real thing...lolz
tw: casual discussion of suicide/suicidal ideation
Masterlist
“I don’t know about this…” Aiden mutters, fingers curling in the fabric of his pajama pants.
Harrison ignores him, leaning against the sink at his side. To say neither one of them is looking forward to this task would be the understatement of the century.
They keep their gazes fixed on the tap, water rushing as if its priority isn’t to fill the tub but the silence, leaden and cumbersome between them. All this time together and there’s more left unsaid now than ever. Built up invisibly, like minerals accumulating around the edges of a tap, inside the pipes until it starts to visibly kick and choke the smooth flow out of shape. They’re shouldering this new avoidance equally, bending under the weight rather than shucking it off. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Pretending they can carry on with a third body to drag along with them when one of them is already paralyzed, the other burdened with the blame.
All the fixtures in Harrison’s bathroom are bright, polished chrome. Shining in contrast with the soft, sherbert orange on the walls. Even the countertop is a slab of pearly, rose stone, the sink scooped right out of it. The tub itself is a floor-to-ceiling insert of wall-to-wall acrylic cream. It must have been like this when he bought the house. He can't imagine Harrison caring enough to renovate a whole bathroom.
Harrison pushes off the counter and grabs a bottle out of the metal rack hanging from the showerhead. He unceremoniously squeezes a generous amount into the rising water. It foams more than bubbles, filling the small room with the scent of soap edged with something sharp. A fresh, synthetic-clean smell that’s not really one thing but distinguished as men’s.
It being his soap, it smells exactly like Harrison. Well, minus the coffee and the odd cigarette he still sneaks sometimes. Aiden wrinkles his nose.
The silence is deafening when Harrison twists the tap off. He sticks his fingers in and nods in approval, wiping them off on his jeans. Visibly pulling on every ounce of clinical detachment, he finally turns to Aiden.
“Let’s get this over with.”
“Are you sure…” Aiden’s not sure how he planned on ending that question. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Are you sure I need a bath? He was the one who insisted, had refused Harrison’s offer of helping him through a sponge bath, and immediately exiled himself to his room to have a quick but fitful panic attack at everything that brought up. Are you sure this is going to...
Aiden shakes his head to drop the half-formed thought and Harrison doesn’t encourage him to pick it back up. He takes his shirt off, tossing it behind Harrison into the hallway. He smells, he has to take a bath. Harrison squeezes between the wheelchair and the end of the counter to stand behind him.
“Ready?”
He’s still not used to it, Harrison’s efforts to give him autonomy, can’t quite unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Mhm.”
Harrison lifts him under the arms just enough so that he can hook his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pajamas, slipping them off his hips and pushing them as low on his thighs as he can reach. “Okay.”
Harrison sets him down again. Two fingers brush the front of his shoulder, making sure he’s balanced and able to hold himself upright. A not-so-old reflex. Harrison drops his hand in the span of the same heartbeat, clearing his throat. They pretend it didn’t happen, though for whose benefit, he doesn’t know but it leaves a strange feeling in his chest.
He pushes and pulls the fabric past his knees, gripping the armrest of the wheelchair tightly in one hand to lean forward and shove his bottoms the rest of the way to his ankles. It takes both hands to push himself upright again. His core is nowhere near as strong as it needs to be, aching every day from how much he has to rely on it now. He scoops his hands under his knee, lifting his foot out of his pant leg. Repeats on the other side.
Harrison uses his foot to sweep his pants into the hallway. “You’re getting better at that,” he says softly.
His cheeks heat. “Shut up.”
Harrison holds his hands up in a show of peace, rolling his eyes.
“Alright, I have to pick you up from your left side.”
Aiden looks pointedly at the six inches of space between the chair and the cabinets under the counter, then back up at Harrison.
Harrison flicks away his concern. “It’ll be fine.”
“It’s your back,” he says, shaking his head.
“You’re not that heavy.”
“Then why not just leave the chair in the hallway?”
Harrison taps his foot on the tile-print linoleum. “You’re not that light either. Ready?”
“Okay.”
He loops his arm around Harrison’s neck as he picks him up. They’re both focused on the maneuvering Harrison has to do, shuffling a few steps sideways before he can skirt around the wheelchair to the edge of the tub.
Aiden grips a fistful of the front of Harrison’s shirt when he has him over the water. “Wait—”
“What?” Harrison shifts his weight uncomfortably. “What? Spit it out.”
“The water?”
“I checked the water, you saw me.”
He presses his lips together.
“Fine, check it.”
Aiden slowly releases his shirt to let his hand dangle so Harrison can lower him until his fingertips meet the water.
Harrison even holds him there so he can feel the temperature after the initial bite of heat. “Satisfied that I’m not trying to boil you alive?” he grits.
He shrugs one shoulder. “It could have been freezing.”
Harrison starts lowering him in. “I’m not interested in giving you more reasons to complain.”
He hisses when the water hits him between the legs.
“What is it?” Harrison tightens his grip, pulling him closer to his chest to lift him infinitesimally out of the water.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly. “It’s just…” He looks down.
Harrison’s brows lift. “You can feel that much?”
“What?”
“Relax,” Harrison breathes, like he felt Aiden’s heart start racing behind his ribs. “It’s a good thing.”
He lowers him the rest of the way in, teetering just a little when he has to shift onto one knee and then the other.
Aiden pulls his arm from Harrison’s neck to grip the side of the tub. Harrison lets go of his legs. His feet sink to the bottom, he feels the gentle reverberation through his torso. He watches through the breaks in the bubbles as his feet continue to slide to the other end of the tub in underwater slow motion.
The rest of him starts to follow.
“No, wait.” He scrambles to wrap his arm around Harrison’s neck again, gripping the top of his arm with his other hand. “Don’t—”
“Jesus," Harrison is tense under his sudden grip. He keeps his voice carefully level ."What now?”
“Wait, I’m slipping. I can’t—”
Harrison tries to shake him off.
“No, no. Harrison—”
“Just lock your knees—”
“What do you mean?” He sounds shrill in his fear. “You know I can’t—”
Harrison tugs at the wrist of the hand clinging to the front of his shirt. “You have to do it with your hands.”
“You filled the tub too much!”
“For the love of God,” Harrison grits, eyes closed like it’s taking everything in him not to lose his temper.
“Harrison, I can’t hold myself up.”
“The tub isn’t taller than you,” Harrison parses slowly, like Aiden’s being irrational and needs the plain logic of the situation spelled out for him. “You just have to brace your feet against the end.” Harrison shifts on his knees.
Aiden twists his fists tighter in Harrison's t-shirt. “Don’t you dare—”
"Relax. I'm not trying to drown you." Harrison tries to tug out of his grip again.
"Harrison—”
"What?" he snaps. "This isn't a dramatic enough end for you?"
He feels it like a punch to the gut. "Fuck you."
Harrison sighs long sufferingly. "Let go of me and I'll help you," he enunciates as if dealing with a petulant child, lips above his ear.
"No. I don't trust you." It comes out like a whip, silence ringing in its wake. Aiden's cheeks feel hot, but that could just be the heat of the water.
"I'm not taking you out again," Harrison says flatly.
Aiden can't see his face without loosening the arm around his neck. He doesn't think he wants to. "You didn't think this through at all."
Harrison lets the silence gather weight this time. Aiden braces himself for the end of Harrison's patience. He knows the feeling of the end of this rope by heart. The twist of the braid, the knots and bumps in the fibers that have torn the skin from his grip time and time again.
But no pain comes.
In its absence, he feels a hot thread of guilt sew itself to his breath.
"Fuck off," Harrison finally says, voice brittle. "I'm trying."
The guilt flares into full on remorse, regret that almost has him apologizing. Fuck. That. He smothers the fire with gasoline, until he’s choking on fumes of hatred and rage instead.
“Get away from me,” he growls.
“What?” Harrison scoffs, indignant. “You just fucking said—”
“Did I stutter?” He grabs the edge of the tub with his free hand.
Harrison catches his wrist before he can pull his arm from behind his neck. “Are your legs steady?”
He glares at him. “Let. Go.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Harrison mutters but does what he’s told.
Without Harrison to hold onto, he immediately slides further into the tub, his useless legs bending at the knee. He’s left clinging to the side of the tub with both arms, the square lip biting into his armpits.
Harrison raises his eyebrows.
“Fuck off,” he snaps.
Harrison rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he stands and dries off with the towel hanging beside the sink. He picks up a loofah from the counter and rips the tag off savagely, whipping it into the water where it lands with an airy splash. Grabs the same bottle from earlier and smacks it on the edge of the tub right next to Aiden’s elbow.
He glares up at him.
Harrison meets his gaze evenly.
“Fuck off,” he repeats.
Right on cue, Harrison rolls his eyes again before moving to slide into a seat against the foot of the tub. He stretches his legs out in front of him and even looks at his nails in theatrical boredom.
Aiden grits his teeth. He refuses to ask for help, to surrender. He lowers his left arm down the front of the tub to make a wider angle of leverage, his fingers practically brushing the floor. He carefully releases his right arm. It takes every ounce of strength to keep himself steady in his twisted seat, way too far from the back of the tub to lean against it. He manages to capture the floating loofah in his free hand and slap it onto the edge of the tub. Water runs onto the floor.
Harrison looks at the spray on the sleeve of his t-shirt with practiced indifference.
Aiden claps his right arm over the side of the tub to give his left arm a rest. After a few seconds, he switches back and picks up the bottle of soap, squeezing a generous amount onto the loofah. He scrubs under his left arm first. Tries to contort his right arm to scrub the right side but he’s not quite limber enough.
He sets the loofah back on the edge of the tub and switches arms.
It’s a mistake, he already has to twist so much further on this side to leverage his weight and now his right hand and forearm are all covered in soap.
His grip starts to slip—
He tries—
He’s underwater.
A belated attempt to hold his breath. The burn of inhaled water making it hard not to release it all at once.
He grapples with the side of the tub but he still can’t lift himself an inch off the chair, let alone drag himself upright. Why is this tub so deep? Why is he so fucking weak? Oh, yeah because he spent the last year strapped to a steel table. Maybe if there were bars or rungs on the outside of the tub, if he could climb hand over fist, he could do it. All he finds is smooth acrylic, the unhelpful lip of the tub too wide to close his fist around, too narrow for anything else.
He can picture Harrison just sitting there, watching him struggle. He might not actively drown him but he never said he wouldn’t let him drown. Asshole.
How fucking perfect. He survives WRU, survives Harrison’s experiments—not even pitied with the mercy of a clean death—only to drown in a tub because he was too stubborn to let Harrison help him. This isn’t supposed to be his fate, isn’t supposed to be his end.
From very early on, as a little boy, he understood his lack of control. Came to terms with the fact that childhood was something for other kids, his life was steeped in something different than bubble solution and capri suns. And that was before his parents signed away his life because they found a boy in his bed. Before he understood that watching the neighborhood kids play through the window was a G-rated version of the otherness that would be whitewashed into his brain. There was no point in crying over it. Spilled milk, a broken glass. Take the backhand and clean it up.
Still. Drowning in a bathtub of his own filth?
This was a whole new level of pathetic, hard to swallow.
He stops struggling, forces himself to pull his balled fists back under the water. His lungs ache. He opens his mouth, warm soapy water flooding in behind his teeth, and screams out the last of his air.
And immediately regrets it because Harrison still isn’t intervening.
Fuck him.
A tiny part of Aiden starts to worry that all bets are off and Harrison will suddenly start breaking promises.
His lungs burn.
No, that motherfucker is probably going to wait until he’s unconscious just to subject him to resuscitation. Not his mouth, never his mouth. That motherfucker probably already has an intubation kit locked and loaded.
Harrison will employ anything and everything to drive home his point. Nowadays, most especially if it can be done with consequences, an illustration of the remaining imbalance in power between them in Harrison’s favor. Anything if it means he doesn’t have to spell it out in a long-winded, exasperated monologue neither one of them has the patience to weather without turning to violence.
And isn’t that what he promised? Underneath all of this pomp and circumstance, toptoeing around eachother’s landmines. That—
Aiden sputters and chokes when Harrison deigns to drag him back into the air.
Harrison lets him hang by the top of his forearm from his hand instead of helping him sit.
He wheezes through his first full breaths, rubbing water out of his eyes. The wheelchair is in the hallway. A stack of folded towels sits on the floor beside Harrison’s feet.
“I thought I wasn’t light,” he rasps when he's caught his breath but Harrison still hasn’t moved. He feels like an orangutan hanging from a tree, except for his limp lower half.
“You certainly gave up quick in there,” Harrison drawls, tilting his head to one side to look at him.
“You’re the one who decided I shouldn’t want to die,” he reminds him.
“Because you’re just being weak and short-sighted,” is the easy answer.
“Fuck you.”
Harrison readjusts his grip and he glares up at him in warning.
“Yeah,” Harrison sighs.
He ignores the feeling of guilt rekindling itself in his stomach. He’s not the one who should feel bad here, he’s the one with no future. Fuck. He grapples for the searing bitterness again, pulling it over the guilt.
“Oh, woe is you. Cut the shit with the long-suffering martyr act.”
Harrison ignores the bait but the muscles in his jaw work as he grinds his molars.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
He wishes he could kick and twist and thrash. He’s bone tired. “You said if I wanted it, you’d let me go. Was that just a lie?”
Harrison commits himself to stony, teeth-clenched silence.
“Or it only applies to the pre-approved methods of killing myself? Huh?”
Harrison threads an arm behind his shoulders, stooping to lower him back to a seat. He grabs a towel as soon as he can reach it, shakes it out so hard it snaps in the air and Aiden flinches. “Here, take this and put it under you so you don’t slip.”
Aiden stares at the tile, curling his hands into fists.
Harrison shoves the towel at him, stopping less than an inch from his face. He turns his head away. Like a slow-motion punch. Aiden imagines him continuing, slamming his head against the tile, holding it there. Smothering him with the towel. His heart stutters in tortured anticipation.
“I’m trying to help you,” Harrison growls.
“I. Never. Asked. You. To.”
“For the love of Christ.”
He whips around to face him again. “Yeah? A little more than you signed up for? Welcome to the fucking club. Oh, wait—”
“Stop it.”
“Why?” he spits, refusing to blink.
Harrison huffs and submerges the towel himself. His shirt is soaking wet already. Aiden does nothing to help as Harrison struggles to lift him while trying to smooth the towel flat underneath him.
“You know they sell stickers for this?”
Harrison ignores him.
“You really should have planned this better. Been more prepared.”
Harrison can’t quite manage and finally gives up.
Aiden scrambles for the edge of the tub when Harrison drops him the last inch and pulls his arm away. He refuses to grab Harrison again. The towel doesn't reappear so it must be somewhere beneath him, even if he can't feel it.
“Sure you don’t want to just push me?” he snipes venemously.
Harrison sticks his arm back in the tub and Aiden’s heart stutters, a manic fear gripping his chest even as he tries to convince himself that it’s swirled with relief.
But all Harrison does is push Aiden’s knees to make his legs lock and he stops sliding. Harrison keeps his hand there, holding him in place and shifts to sit with his back against the tub again. He pulls one leg up to his chest. His jeans are soaked from the thigh to his knees, where he props his free arm.
Aiden doesn’t move, doesn’t even want to breathe too loud.
Minutes or a lifetime later, Harrison sighs.
“I do want to push you under. I want to hold you under until you’re choking, until you couldn’t even speak to beg, until you’re trying to climb me for air. Until you black out and I don’t have to deal with you for a few hours. So I can stop having to try so fucking hard.
“I want to push you under until you drag me with you and we can either let go or die. And God, I want to stop living. Every time you ask me, I get closer to saying yes because whatever you take, I’ll be right behind you and I don’t know how much longer I can keep using you as a shield.” He scrubs his free hand over his face. He didn’t shave today, again. His hair’s a mess, like he spent the whole time Aiden was underwater tugging and pulling at it.
The deep inhale Harrison takes feels like it shakes the edges of the whole room. “So, go ahead. Ask me again if you still want me to let you slip under the surface.”
He’s glad Harrison has his back turned because he can’t hide his shaking hands under the water, they make the surface ripple.
“Sociopath.” His voice cracks, he clears his throat. “Of course you’d find a way to make this about you.”
Harrison coughs a laugh that makes Aiden tense all over again. He’d give anything to see the accompanying expression. He’s afraid to see it, if it’s what he thinks it is. Harrison drags his hand over his face again, takes another breath that feels like it pulls at the film stretched over reality.
“The water’s getting cold.” He picks up the bottle of soap that got knocked onto the floor and puts it where Aiden can reach. “I’ll buy you your own for next time if you just tell me what you want,” he says softly, like he was the one screaming and choking underwater and has no voice left.
Aiden grabs the loofah where it bobs next to him. “Bold of you to assume you’ll get me in the tub a second time.”
Harrison’s eyes flick over but not long enough to linger to see his expression. More overture than assessment. “I never said the next time would be in the tub.”
Now it’s Aiden's turn to laugh. “And track mud in from the yard?”
“Damn.”
“Build a bigger patio.”
Harrison reaches into the cabinet and pulls out a plastic pitcher, places it on the edge of the tub. For rinsing his hair. He feels a rush of relief when he thinks of the alternatives.
“You build a bigger patio. You’re the one just sitting around all day while I’m at work.”
Aiden snorts. “If I’m building anything, it’s a ramp so I can even get outside.”
“I ordered them, I swear,” Harrison twists to look at him, disproportionately defensive.
He schools his expression away from surprise, bordering dangerously close to concern. “You know what they say about protesting too much.”
11. Are they angry about what happened? What are some feelings they have about what happened?
Felix is past anger, denial, grief, etc over what his life could've/should've been like and in the current timeline is trying to survive on an instinctual level - I think even if/when he gets over the hump of the worst of it, anger doesn't really register. I think he has gotten to a place where he believes that he deserves every painful thing that happens to him, just because he's been conditioned to believe it, through relentless physical/mental torture. He's not angry right now, and I don't think he'll ever really been angry about it, regardless of how much he's told he has the right to be, his headspace just doesn't lend itself toward anger about this.
15. What do they remember about the trauma?
He remembers everything up until his body starts really failing him, which I think is a little bit after the thing with River. I think he starts essentially disassociating, starts declining quickly, stops speaking, stops thinking clearly/wholly, and at some point between then and now (Lincoln era), he begins losing time/memories become far more spotty, to the point where right now he's probably so far gone that he wouldn't remember any of this early Lincoln stuff (or, most of it)
16. What can't they remember?
I don't think he'd remember a lot of the final few weeks at Belleview (before Lincoln). At that point the team there was famously kind of just letting him 'expire',' I'm sure there was some nefarious shit that was done to him but mostly they just left him alone at the point where he was in complete physical decline. He wouldn't remember the first week or two with Lincoln, I'm sure, although maybe he'd have some vague memories of things like being treated in the hospital/ambulance, of Ethan playing music in his room, of River sitting by his bed/holding his hand/etc.
sam winchester + strapped down/tied up | supernatural
4x21 "When The Levee Breaks" / 5x11 "Sam, Interrupted" / 3x10 "Dream A Little Dream Of Me" / 7x08 "Season Seven, Time For A Wedding!" / 3x15 "Time Is On My Side" / 7x17 "The Born-Again Identity" / 4x19 "Jump The Shark" / 13x11 "Breakdown"
Do you think you will ever write for Leo again? Even something small?
i feel so confident in saying that i do think, eventually, i will write for leo/luke again - i dont know when or how big the piece(s) will be or whatever, but i say with complete confidence that i know i'll feel the call again and just pop in here with some art on a fuckin tuesday at two am or something
right now im really big on watching musicals and bed rotting, but i go through phases :)
rereading the fighter and its amazing as always. can you explain why leo has such a hard time eating when he enters luke’s contract? does he not want to eat? or is it trauma related?
thaaankkk you <3<3
tw: food stuff
leo wasn't eating in the beginning of the luke arc because of trauma related to the ivan arc (i dont even fully know much we've gotten into the ivan arc about food, but it got ugly)
leo had/has/will always have eating issues/food aversions - he'll have moments forever where the thought of eating turns his stomach, where he genuinely doesn't know if he can handle taking a bite of even things he usually likes, but the further away he gets from all the events leading up to the luke arc, the less frequent those episodes/issues become (while, i imagine, always lurking in the background, and cropping up without a lot of warning from time to time).
The long-awaited follow-up to Nailgun, wherein vandals found Aiden alone and when he tried to fight back, they nailed him to a wall, mostly by his sweatshirt. Mostly. Now, Leo comes to the rescue. We can only imagine how Harrison would handle it.
cw: nail in hand, trauma response/conditioning (barely), loss of consciousness, victim self-blaming, internalized abelism, comfort and fluff, rainbows and unicorns.
Previous — Masterlist — Next
Leo kills the radio as soon as he pulls into the driveway and sees the busted front door.
The damage barely registers as he checks the ground floor. There’s only one thing he cares about right now. When he doesn’t see anyone on the crew his chest tightens, adrenaline rushing through his veins.
He takes the stairs two at a time.
They’re all crowded into the back bedroom. Leo pauses in the hallway, unsure what he’s hoping to hear. Maybe some signal that it’s not half as bad as any of the worst case scenarios he’s imagining.
“If a few of us hold him still, can you cut him down?” someone asks.
“No, no way,” Jesse says immediately. “He’s freaked out enough as it is.”
Leo pushes into the room.
It is decidedly worse than he imagined, seeing Aiden down on his knees and nailed to the wall. Mercy doesn’t seem like it was part of the equation here but for whatever reason, the assailants mostly aimed for his sweatshirt. Except for his left hand. The sight of it makes Leo’s stomach drop. Always that poor left hand.
“Leo’s here,” Riley says unhelpfully.
Aiden doesn’t react. His head is turned the other way but his ragged breathing, fast and shallow, is audible across the room.
Leo starts toward him but Jesse catches his arm. “He won’t let anyone touch him. Every time we get close, he freaks out.”
“I think he’s in shock,” Tony supplies. “My cousin dropped a nail gun on his foot once and just started taking off his clothes.”
“Alright,” Jesse clips.
The room falls silent as Leo makes his way to Aiden’s side and falls to his knees. “Aiden, hey, it’s Leo.”
It’s probably the same naive part of him that couldn’t even stoop to imagine this level of cruelty that also hopes he’ll be able to reach Aiden. It’s been months since Leo felt in over his head but the far away look in Aiden’s eyes makes it feel like their first night all over again and he has no idea where to start.
“Are you okay?” Stupid question, of course he’s not. Everyone can see he’s not. “What happened?”
“M’sorry…m’sorry…s-s-sir.”
Shit. Of all the times for that word to rear its ugly head. He isn’t crying which is an even bigger red flag.
Leo clears his throat, acutely aware of their audience. They’re all good guys but Jesse’s the only one he trusts with Aiden’s history and, even then, it’s just need-to-know.
“No need to apologize. It’s not your fault. Can we help you get down from there?”
“Mmm’I didn’t— I don’t— Please, mmm’sorry— Please, sir…” It doesn’t seem like he even knows what he’s begging for at this point. Probably to not make it hurt any worse.
“Aiden, listen—” He reaches to put a hand on Aiden’s shoulder and Aiden cries out, pulling uselessly against the nails to avoid the touch. Leo raises both hands where he can see them. “Easy, easy, I won’t touch you.”
He twitches a few more times, like it takes his body a minute to catch up with his brain. When he finally does stop, his eyes are even more vacant. “Mmm’sorry, m’sorry, s-sir…mmm’please, please…”
Someone clears their throat.
Leo looks at Jesse. This is starting to sound like way more than a roughed up kid afraid of losing his job. Especially since they all think Aiden is Leo’s nephew. Or did he say cousin? Either way, at best they’ll think his family believes in some serious corporal punishment. At worst, they’ll recognize the truth.
“Alright, let’s everyone start cleaning up this mess.” Jesse herds the crew out of the room, assigning jobs. Leo stops listening.
Aiden stares ahead blankly, his labored breathing the only sign that he has any remaining awareness.
Leo’s palms start to sweat and he wipes them on his jeans. Aiden hasn’t been this freaked out since he woke up in the hospital. Or maybe that night with the nosebleed but even then, they were at home, Aiden wasn’t in pain. They had time. If there’s one thing Leo has needed with Aiden from the beginning, it’s time. He sends a quick text to his sister but doubts he’ll get a response inside the hour.
“Leo?” Jesse tilts his head, eyebrows raised like he had to say his name more than once. “What do you want to do?”
“We have to get him down.”
“Right,” Jesse says slowly. “How?”
“Go get some scissors and the first aid kit.”
“We already did.” Jesse gestures to Leo’s other side.
“Oh. Okay, good.” He swallows. “Bolt cutters?”
“I’ll be right back.”
Starting anywhere is better than sitting here doing nothing. He doesn’t need to overthink this to death.
Leo moves as close as he can, keeping his hands visible. “Aiden, can you look at me?”
He raises his eyes but his gaze never lifts higher than Leo’s cheekbones.
“Good. Nod if you can hear me.”
He does, brow furrowing like he thinks it’s a test.
“Good. Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No,” he says as gently as he can. Aiden still flinches. God, he’s so far gone. “Say my name.”
“Mmm…” He wets his lips nervously, searching Leo’s face. “...sir?”
“You can do it, say my name.”
His eyes fill and he shakes his head.
Leo’s heart aches. “I’m so sorry.”
Aiden squeezes his eyes shut, a few tears escaping.
He holds Aiden’s cheek and brings their foreheads together. “Come back to me, baby,” he whispers.
“L-Leo,” he sobs. “Leo, it hurts.”
Leo releases the breath he was holding. “I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I’m gonna get you down, I’m gonna take care of you.”
Aiden sniffles, leaning into his hand.
“Jesse’s going to help us, okay?” He brushes the tears off Aiden’s cheek with his thumb. “We’ll be as fast as we can.”
Those big brown eyes finally meet his. “I-I—”
Jesse walks into the room, making Aiden tense. “Okay, all set.” He holds up the bolt cutters for Leo to see.
“Easy, it’s just Jesse.” He moves his hand to the back of Aiden’s neck, rubbing his thumb in circles there to keep him calm.
“Hey, kiddo.” Jesse moves into his eyeline and Aiden grants him the briefest flash of eye contact before looking back to Leo. “So, what’s the plan?”
“We’ll cut your clothes free first so that when we do your hand, you’re done. Sound good?”
Aiden nods, worry lining his face.
Jesse digs the scissors out of the first aid kit. It’s a small blessing that they’re actually the kind made for cutting someone’s clothes away. “Ready when you are.”
“I’m gonna help you stay still.” Leo puts his hand between his shoulder blades. “If you need a break, you just tell us to stop, yeah?”
“O-okay.”
“Jesse’s gonna start with your right arm.”
“Mhm.”
“You ready?”
“Mmm.”
Leo waits for Aiden to meet his eyes again before nodding at Jesse to start.
“I’m going to hold your sleeve here—” Aiden stops breathing when Jesse slips the scissors into his sweatshirt. He cuts in a straight line all the way to the middle of his shoulder.
Aiden keeps his arm pressed against the wall even once Jesse moves back.
“You can move your arm now,” Leo says gently.
Aiden blinks at him, flexing just his fingers first before he slowly bends his arm at the elbow like he doesn’t believe it’s possible. Finally, he lets his arm fall to his side, clutching his jeans. There are a handful of nicks on either side of his arm but thankfully none of them look deep.
Leo collects Aiden’s trembling fingers in his. “Breathe, hon. You’re doing good.”
He releases a shaky exhale, squeezing Leo’s hand tightly.
“Can I do your right side now?”
“Uhm—” He clears his throat. “Yeah.”
When Jesse reaches the top, Leo stops him before he pulls the scissors out. “Cut the rest of this shoulder free and the front.” Jesse does as instructed, cutting him half of an awful semblance of a poncho. Leo keeps his hand in the center of Aiden’s back to hold the fabric against his skin. In retrospect, it seems like a stupid thing to be protective of at this moment.
Still, he thinks Aiden looks a tiny bit relieved not having his back bared.
Jesse starts on his left side. He’s almost finished when Aiden inhales sharply, fresh tears springing to his eyes.
“Aiden?” Leo can’t keep the panic from his voice.
“Mm’okay,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “K-keep…going.”
Jesse continues slowly. He lifts the edge of the cut fabric to reveal a trail of blood down Aiden’s side from a spot where a nail pierced through the underside of his arm. “You okay, kiddo?”
He nods bravely. There are bruises too.
Leo’s blood boils. He’ll press every single fucking charge he can against these motherfuckers, if he doesn’t find them and kill them himself first.
“Anywhere else that bad?” Jesse asks, snapping Leo out of his thoughts.
“I-I don’t…mmm’think so,” Aiden says softly.
“Leo, you want to hold his wrist? Just in case?”
“Is that okay?”
Aiden nods.
“Just say the word and we’ll stop, okay?” Leo reminds him.
“Mhm.”
He covers Aiden’s wrist with his hand, holding it fast against the wall. It doesn’t escape him that Aiden stops breathing altogether.
Jesse stops when he reaches Leo’s hand.
“You’re going to have to hold him better. Once I’m through, he won’t be able to keep his arm steady at this height.”
He’s right. Leo takes a breath and releases Aiden’s hand. “I’m just—”
“S’okay,” Aiden says, nodding.
Leo’s throat feels thick. “Good boy,” he says without thinking.
Aiden looks down shyly.
“Ready?” Jesse prompts.
Leo grips Aiden by the elbow and moves his other hand to the end of the cut fabric, locking his arm against the wall.
“Okay, there.” Jesse drops the scissors like they’re inflammatory. “Done.”
Aiden’s starting to tremble in his grip, breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
“Get the bolt cutters,” he tells Jesse urgently. “Aiden, look at me.” It takes a second too long for his eyes to focus on Leo’s. “Trust me?”
“Yes.”
Leo feels a rush of adrenaline and maybe something else. “Close your eyes.”
Aiden squeezes his eyes shut and leans into Leo’s side as much as he can with his arm pinned to the wall. He braces his free hand beside his chest, fingertips curling like he wants to dig into the drywall.
Leo nods at Jesse.
The bolt cutters seem like they’re made to take off his very fingers. It looks horrific, using such a monstrous tool right next to a vulnerable, exposed wound. Leo wants to look away himself.
Jesse is careful and precise. He lines up as close to Aiden’s hand as he can get without touching it and cuts. Leo doesn’t hesitate either, pulling Aiden’s hand off the nail. It all happens in the span of a few seconds.
Aiden chokes halfway through the whimper he started when the bolt cutters bit the nail. His expression twists in pain, mouth open in silent, surprised agony like he got the wind knocked out of him. Leo feels guilty for choosing speed over warning. Aiden grabs the wrist of his injured hand protectively and turns his face into Leo’s shoulder.
“I got you, I got you,” Leo wraps an arm around him. “You’re gonna be okay.”
He coughs a sob into Leo’s sweatshirt, turning his face out of the fabric to gasp a shaky inhale.
Jesse ducks out of the room, mumbling about getting him water.
“You did good, sweetheart. You did good.”
He lifts his head to look up at Leo, still trying to catch his breath. “I-I’m s-sorry…mm’about the-the house.”
Leo crushes him in a hug, mindful of his hand, and rests his cheek against Aiden’s temple. “I don’t give a shit about the damn house.”
Aiden huffs in his arms.
God, he doesn’t know what he would have done if Aiden wasn’t okay.
Jesse comes back with Aiden’s water bottle and phone. Leo avoids the look he’s trying to share. Aiden takes a few sips of water, letting Leo help him when even his uninjured hand is too shaky.
“You think you can hold out on the first aid until we get home?” Leo suggests. “I don’t think any of these are bleeding anymore.”
He nods, looking relieved.
Aiden and Jesse each take a side to lift him to his feet. He looks ridiculous, and a little pathetic, though Leo would never say either outloud. The butchered hoodie hangs off him like a poncho, his bruised ribs visible on either side, looking totally out of place over his dry-wall dusted jeans and workboots.
“Let me give you my jacket,” Jesse offers, picking it up from where he must have tossed it earlier. He drapes it carefully around Aiden’s shoulders before clearing his throat. “Listen, I’m—”
“Later,” Leo clips.
Aiden searches his face.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
He nods, brow still creased.
“Hope it feels better quick, kiddo,” Jesse says, patting him on the shoulder.
“It-it doesn’t…mmm’hurt that-that bad.” Leo would bet the winning powerball numbers that’s a load of bullshit. Aiden just has an impossible pain tolerance and a knee-jerk need to placate people. He lifts his hand to look for himself…and slumps toward the floor.
Leo barely manages to catch him with Jesse getting in the way trying to do the same. “I got him, I got him,” he snaps.
Jesse holds up his hands. “Just trying to help, Leo.”
“Yeah, now.” He carefully lays Aiden down, making sure Jesse’s jacket is under him.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He pulls his hoodie off and folds it up to put under Aiden’s head. He sits beside him and puts a hand to his cheek. “Hon, can you hear me?”
“Is he alright?” Jesse clicks his tongue when Leo doesn’t answer right away. “I’ve been helping this whole time.”
Aiden’s out cold. “He’ll be fine, it was just too much,” he says to stop Jesse from hovering. “Hand me the first aid kit.” He might as well save Aiden more stress later.
Jesse drops the bag at his side and paces away. And back. Forward and back.
Leo grinds his teeth. “None of this would have happened if you had just waited for me to come back before leaving.”
“I set the alarm!” Jesse defends. “You were supposed to be back two hours ago, what about where the fuck you were?”
“The Woburn store was out, I had to drive all the way to Lowell.”
Leo sprays antiseptic onto some gauze and starts dabbing the wound on Aiden’s hand, front and back. The burn is only just-healed, crossed over the deep wound from the beginning. Now this. God, what if he needs a tetanus shot?
“Setting the alarm is not the same thing as being here,” he grits. “I trusted you.”
Jesse’s mouth falls open. Leo looks away to open a new piece of gauze. “That’s not fair. You never said I couldn’t leave him alone at all. You know if you had, I would have stayed.”
Leo focuses on bandaging his hand, taping the edges neatly. He wants to work quickly and finish all of it before Aiden wakes up. He sighs. “Can you hold his wrist? I don’t want to bump his hand.”
Jesse folds into a seat and takes Aiden gently by the wrist so Leo can clean the puncture under his arm. His eyes trace the scar on his forearm. “This was that night?”
Leo keeps his focus on what he’s doing. “Yeah.” All of Aiden’s scars are hard to look at but especially those. They happened when Leo was supposed to be keeping him safe. He takes a breath. “I’m saying it now.”
“Leo—”
“You’re right about today,” he agrees. “You didn’t know before so I’m saying it now.”
He tapes the edges of another square of gauze to make a bandage. Once it’s on the wound, he takes Aiden’s wrist back and carefully crosses his arm over his chest so his hand rests by his shoulder. At least the poor kid almost looks peaceful.
He pauses to drag a hand over his face. “This is what it’s like though. Most of the time, it’s fine. It’s almost normal. But when it goes bad, it goes really, really bad.”
Jesse glances down at Aiden.
“For example, who turned off the alarm?”
“It—I—”
“Exactly. What are the odds any given day that a site is vandalized? What are the odds those assholes know how to cut the alarm before they even get in? And what are the chances those same fuckers have a streak of sadism?” He dabs antiseptic on all of the other nicks he can see. “So, yeah, five minutes, fifteen minutes, it’s too long.”
Jesse swallows. “Leo, I’m—”
“I know. You won’t let it happen again. Neither will I.” He looks down at Aiden. “And as soon as he’s feeling a little better, I’m gonna kill him for not having his phone on him. He better bet his ass he’s getting a fucking Apple watch sautered onto his wrist.”
Jesse huffs a laugh. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that already.”
“No kidding.” Satisfied with this first aid sprint, Leo zips up the case. Jesse reaches over to take the trash from him.
“You’re doing a great job, you know.”
Leo waves him off.
“No, really. I don’t think you hear it enough. Probably because you won’t listen.” Leo rolls his eyes. “He’s a completely different person than the first day I met him. Speaking of…”
Aiden scrunches up his face and lets out a soft whimper. “No,” he whispers under his breath. He’s still as stone, like he’s afraid to move.
Or thinks he can’t.
Leo pulls him up by the tops of his arms and his eyes fly open. “Hey, hey, look at me.” He holds his cheek. “That’s it. You’re here with me. I’ve got you.”
He shakes his head like he’s dispelling whatever had him confused.
Leo waits until his eyes are clear. “You took a little nap so I did some first aid,” he gently lifts his arm by the wrist to show him that his hand is bandaged.
“Ahh, okay.” He looks relieved and pulls in a deliberate, deep breath.
Leo doesn’t pry. “What do you say we get you home?”
Aiden nods.
“Take two,” Jesse jokes.
Aiden awards him a small smile. He lets them balance most of his weight going down the stairs but at the bottom, he steps away. Leo almost reaches out to help him but Jesse catches his sleeve.
“Ayy, look who’s back.” Tony swoops in to fist bump Aiden and sparks a rush of attention.
As they slowly make their way to the front door, every single person on the crew comes up to check that he’s okay. Telling him to get some rest and heal up quick so he can come back soon. A few more reach out for a fist bump or to lightly pat him on the shoulder. Aiden smiles shyly and even joins in the banter with a one-word quip that earns him another round of fist bumps.
Far from the skinny, shivering kid who wouldn’t make eye contact and could barely stand on his own two feet when Leo pulled him out of the snowbank. Leo’s heart swells.
Once they get Aiden situated, Jesse walks Leo to the driver’s side. “Take as much time as you need, I can hold things down for a few days. And, sorry again. I didn’t—”
“It’s all good. Thanks for helping with everything. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Aiden returns Jesse’s wave as Leo turns around.
Leo swings out of the driveway onto the tree-lined lane. It’s a nice neighborhood which is why he and Jesse jumped at the chance to get the house in a foreclosure auction. Maybe next time Aiden doesn’t work those jobs.
The light at the end of the street is green, he takes a left.
“A movie on the couch sounds really good.” He changes lanes for some moron in a Beamer trying to get a ticket. “Aiden? What do you think?”
He doesn’t answer.
Because he’s crying. Good hand covering his face while the bandaged one trembles in the air.
“Hon,” Leo reaches over and puts his hand on the back of his neck.
That only opens the floodgates and Aiden starts sobbing. “I—I—don’t—”
“I’m gonna stop, hang on.” Leo rubs his neck, chest tightening every time he has a chance to glance over.
He takes the first turn he can, pulling into a Wendy’s and swinging into the closest parking spot. Leo’s got his seatbelt off before he even kills the engine. He reaches over and unbuckles Aiden’s, pausing when he sees the look on his face.
“H-h-how do…they-they…mmm’always…know?” he sobs.
Leo’s heart splinters. “Oh, sweetheart.” He pulls the sobbing, shaking boy into his arms.
“I-I—tried to-to…mmm’fight…b-back.”
Oh, God. Leo clears his throat. “Aiden, listen to me. Nothing about you or what you did invited what happened.”
He sits up to search Leo’s face. His is a mess of snot and tears. “But-but—”
“I mean it.” Leo reaches around him to pull a handkerchief out of the glove box, gently cleans his face. “We don’t know how this would have played out with someone else.”
Aiden sniffles, looking down at his hand.
“I was going to wait until tomorrow to ask you any questions but how many people broke in?”
“Mmm’three…three guys.”
He refuses to let himself picture it. “I don’t know if I could best three guys.”
Those dark eyes flick up to his face and then back down. “That-that…uhmmm, first…night.”
Leo grimaces internally. “Alright. I mean, yeah…but they didn’t have anything to fight with.”
Aiden frowns.
“Just because someone else might have been stronger, doesn’t mean they would have come away scott free.”
Aiden flinches, looking down to hide his face so Leo can’t catch his gaze. He makes a mental note to ask about it later, when the kid wasn’t still nailed to a wall within the last hour.
“For all we know, a longer fight could have made things worse.”
No dice. At least he’s not crying anymore.
Leo wishes he knew exactly what to say, exactly what the kid needed to hear. Since words are failing him, he just pulls Aiden back into his arms. Aiden melts into the hug, sniffling. Leo holds him tight, rubbing slow circles on his back. They sit in the parking lot until Aiden’s breathing is long and steady, the sun starting to set.
“Can-can…we…?”
“Yeah, let’s go home.”
Leo helps him buckle into the middle seat so he can lean into Leo’s side for the rest of the drive.
They’re almost home when Leo realizes that Aiden has been gearing up to say something for the last ten minutes. His lips moving while he parses the words, a crease between his brows. Leo catches his gaze and Aiden bites his lips together.
He squeezes his knee. “What is it, hon? I’m listening.”
Aiden keeps his eyes trained out the windshield, like he’s afraid to look at Leo. “Mmm’can, can I…can I…really go…mmm’back?”
“What do you mean? Back to work, like once you're better?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course you can.” Leo pulls into the driveway, following as it curves around the first condo in the row and leads into the tiny parking lot at the back. He parks in his usual spot, glad he can turn to see Aiden fully now. “That is, if you want to.”
Aiden finally looks at him. “I…w-want to.”
“Good.” Leo pats his knee. “Because you kind of don’t have a choice.”
Aiden raises his eyebrows.
“In case you didn’t notice with that goodbye, you’re part of the crew. They’d come find you if you didn’t come back.”
Aiden shakes his head but as he turns to open the passenger side door, he’s smiling.
Trauma ask game: 1 and 2 for Leo, or River if someone beat me to Leo?
from this ask game (river answered here)
What would your OC say is their biggest trauma?
"I'm not sure," Leo says. "I think it's a little bit easier to pinpoint now, with some distance from the worst of it. I–" he presses his fingers into the back of his neck nervously. His hair, a little longer now, curls out. "There are... countless moments in my life that..."
He takes a deep breath, mulling over how much he wants to share. None, is what his brain screams at him, but he presses forward against his better judgment.
"The day I was arrested, knowing that I'd never see my family again. Learning about Isaac, and being completely helpless to do anything about it. The entire Parker contract, up through its brutal ending, and then–" he flinches at the memory "–the second, even more brutal ending. Everything that happened with Ivan, and everything that happened at the clinic after."
The words flow faster now, and Leo shakes his head, pushing forward. "Losing Will," he says softly. His lips press into a tight line and he blinks hard.
"I think I would say the worst of it, though, was when they took Luke away. It was... after, everything. We were already out of the townhouse, and living in the shittiest little apartment in Baltimore, when they arrested him. Even after every horrible thing that's been done to me, to the people I love, and to Luke... I don't think anything has impacted me the way that did."
