#shut up and take my lindens
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This is a sick fic for my beloved @edi-storm and them ONLY <3 <3 <3
You add another blanket to your now three layers of blankets. Somehow, you were still cold. Cold and alone because your cruel boyfriend just HAD to patrol (you insisted he go despite him offering to stay with you). The world is evil and cruel and mean. The cold seeping into your bones on the couch after hours of being alone.
That is until Red Hood comes knocking on your window. On one hand, you felt relief that he came back. On the other hand, that knocking sound gave you a killer headache. He can get in just fine, he was merely alerting you of his presence. What was usually a nice gesture is now annoying the shit out of you. So you tuck your head under the blankets and stick out your arm to flip him off. You hear the window unlatch and his modulated laugh as he climbs through.
“You still feel like shit?” He starts removing the outer layer of his gear.
“Cleary.” Your voice is muffled from the stack of blankets over your face. You hear the light switch flickering under his fingers, darkening the room. You move the blankets slightly to look at him.
“Better?” He asks. He finally makes it to his kevlar layers, peeling them away with practiced grace.
“Yeah.” You stare at his freshly freed tits. Lovely specimen. It unfortunately doesn’t last long. He slides into an old comfy looking t-shirt. Soon enough he’s in full pajamas.
“When’s the last time you had something to eat?” His footsteps towards the kitchen are loud.
You shrug before remembering that he can’t see you. It’s the headache’s fault. “I don’t know.”
“We’ll have to fix that. Do you want pasta?” His voice carries from the other room.
The promise of pasta rises you from your cushion-y grave. “Thank youuuu.”
“Yeah yeah yeah. Don’t mention it.”
You can hear him opening cabinets and drawers before he steps back into the living room. You look up upon his entry and he gives your forehead a quick kiss before putting some linden tea down on the coffee table along with some medication for your headache. “You’re burning up. Take these. Your noodles are boiling.”
Immediately going for the tea, you look up at him with reverence and awe. “I would die for you.”
He smiles. “Please don’t. Dying isn’t as fun as it’s hyped up to be.” He takes one of your hands in his to quickly squeeze before heading back to the kitchen to stir the pasta.
When he leaves the room, the blankets begin to feel warmer and then hot. They become annoying and sweaty so you peel them off of you.
Jason quickly walks back into the living room. You decide the funniest and best course of action would be to throw the final blanket over his head.
You were right, it is funny. He doesn’t take it off immediately, just turns his head to look at you as if to say Seriously? This is your humor?
He pulls the blanket off his head and his hair stands in all directions. He folds the blanket and puts it over the back of an armchair before turning to you. He does a quick double take. “Are you wearing my shirt?”
“Shut up.”
#this is for rain and rain only <3#but you guys can see it too#saph’s love letters#jason todd#jason todd x reader#saph’s thots#red hood#red hood x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x you#red hood x reader fluff#red hood fluff#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader fluff#fluff
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forever and
a firstprince new year ficlet. ~1k.
Alex loses him again, ten minutes till midnight.
The party has been, as Pez put it, positively smashing—hard to top last year’s but I had the utmost faith in dear Alex, well done.
Alex hasn’t been paying attention, because outside of the circle formed by Henry’s arms on his shoulders and Alex’s hands on the dip of his waist, he hasn’t really needed to know.
Now, he takes it all in, the dancing snapshots of bodies beneath the strobe lights, the bass thumping so thickly he can feel it in his sternum, and he registers none of it because none of it matters when he doesn’t know where the hell Henry’s gone.
“Have you seen my boyfriend?” he demands of no fewer than five people—Nora, Pez and June count as one—but nobody knows, or nobody knows what he’s even asking because most of them just grin and bob their heads even more energetically than before.
He hasn’t texted. He’s not in the bathroom, and he’s not at the bar—Alex has checked both places twice. He’s starting to feel panicked in a way that he hasn’t in a long time, worried that he’s done something wrong, that he’s hurt Henry in some way again without knowing.
The not knowing is the worst part. Not that he’d ever hurt Henry on purpose, but that he could still do it now and not even realize is so unbearable he might just throw up.
The thing is that Henry had looked happy. And Alex had teased him mercilessly for it (“It doesn’t feel like His Royal Highness hates New Year’s,” murmured into Henry’s ear as Alex pressed their lower bodies together), which Henry had flushed over while also setting his jaw and pulling Alex firmly in for a kiss, probably at least in part to shut him up already.
Alex thinks back to just moments ago, before he’d somehow lost track of Henry. There’d been champagne, which they’d forgotten somewhere in favor of dancing with Bea, a conversation with some TV actor Alex only vaguely recognized and couldn’t find a polite way to get rid of, and then…then what? He’d turned around and Henry had vanished.
He doesn’t fully mean to, but he ends up retracing his steps all the way back to this time last year.
The snow is not as densely packed underfoot as he shivers his way into the garden. A year ago now, he’d followed the same path to Henry, gazed at him beneath the linden tree, and felt so many things he didn’t know how to name or make sense of until Henry kissed him and made the world go blessedly still.
If Henry is there, he decides now, determination doubling his pace, he’s going to grab his beautiful face with both hands and kiss him like 1. there’s no tomorrow, and also like 2. there’s only tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, ahead.
Henry isn’t there.
Alex’s footprints are the only trail left in the snow, glistening in technicolor as the fireworks start up overhead, and fuck, fuck, he’s missed the whole countdown.
He’s missed it with Henry. Kissing him at midnight like they were meant to this year, without the uncertainty and miserable months of radio silence that followed. This was supposed to be a new beginning for them; he had plans, okay, and it’s—well, it’s kind of their anniversary in a way, and now he won’t remember it the way that he wanted to, he—
“Alex!”
He turns, and the man that Alex can only think about in terms of forever now is jogging toward him, all flushed from the cold but smiling.
“There you are,” says Henry, a little short of breath as he comes to a stop and reaches for Alex’s hand. His touch sends a shock of warmth through what feels like Alex’s whole being. Suddenly, Alex can breathe again. “You’re freezing, love. Come here.”
Alex opens his mouth to protest, because as relieved as he is that Henry is here and acting as though all is well, he’s also kind of mad about it.
But yeah, he’s pretty cold too, so he steps willingly into Henry’s arms, and—well, there’s no other place he’d rather be mad about not being ten minutes sooner.
And then Henry leans in, and kisses him so sweetly that Alex is really not mad at all anymore.
“Next year,” says Henry, a little entreatingly, “maybe consider not inviting Hunter if you can help it? He just trapped me at coat check for what felt like ages. I barely made it out with my life.”
Alex never lets a good opportunity to pick on Hunter go to waste, but he decides to let this one slide. “Why were you at coat check?” he wants to know.
“I needed to get something,” says Henry, like it’s obvious.
“But—you don’t have your coat,” says Alex, like it’s not obvious at all.
“You don’t miss a thing,” Henry murmurs, all warmth and affection as he pulls Alex close. Something round and hard presses against Alex’s thigh, and oh. He would know that shape anywhere, because it matches the box inside his own jacket. “Guess again.”
“Baby,” says Alex, and if his voice cracks a little because he’s smiling so hard, well, what about it? “Is that a rock in your pocket, or do you really, really not hate New Year’s?”
“I just really, really love you,” counters Henry. “Happy anniversary, darling,” and he kisses Alex, just a few perfect minutes past midnight, under the linden tree, under the stars, both of them thinking of only forever.
#rwrb#red white and royal blue#rwrbsource#rwrb fic#firstprince#firstprince fic#rwrb fanfic#firstprince fanfic#usernuria#userveronika#iuserzoe#chrissiewatts#canon au in that i sped up the timeline a little
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Your banner of “shut up, shut all the way up!!” Makes me laugh every time so may I humbly request: 8:00 pm, the red room, Alex and Henry, no songs for vibes but how about if they didn’t get interrupted? I’m down for all the spice but it’s up to you my dear!!
Ao3-royalhearthuff
i'm glad you laugh, that's one of my favorite quotes from the book its just so perfectly alex. i am SO DOWN for your prompt its ridiculous. have some canon-adjacent making out for your sunday afternoon.
read the rest of the ficlets here
❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙
8:00pm, red room
Alex might legitimately be going insane — it’s the most likely explanation for how fucking good it feels to be making out with Henry. And they definitely are making out, not just kissing; there’s nothing remotely polite about the way Alex shoved Henry against the wall, nothing PG about Henry’s hands in his hair and clutching his ass. Every rattle of the portrait against the wall as Henry arches into Alex’s touch drives Alex even wilder. The weight of Henry’s leg around his waist might as well be one of those safety bars for a roller coaster — keeping Alex in the moment, on this ride as he and Henry go through loops and twists and down steep hills.
Alex has been breaking apart since January; only Henry’s lips on his, only Henry’s body pressed close, is keeping Alex in one piece now. Each kiss, each thrust of hips, each new place Alex’s hand lands lights a firework inside his mind. He’s really here — in the fucking Red Room, with a party full of diplomats just down the hall — with Henry.
Henry, who he would have sworn on his mother’s election that he hated just a few months ago.
Henry, who kissed him under the linden tree and tilted Alex’s axis completely askew.
Henry makes a low noise against Alex’s mouth and Alex drops a hand to Henry’s thigh. He squeezes the hard muscles beneath his fingers reflexively, rewarded with a gasp so thin it’s almost a whimper. Alex can practically feel Henry’s pulse through his suit and he moves his hand higher, closer to the bulge in Henry’s suit pants. Henry’s hand slips out of Alex’s hair (the one on his ass stays firmly in place) and slams down on Alex’s hand, his nails digging in sharply.
Alex stops moving, pulls back just enough to meet Henry’s eyes. They’re both breathing heavily, mouths less than an inch apart. Henry’s eyes are wide in surprised pleasure. Alex slides his free hand inside Henry’s suit jacket, finds the dip of Henry’s waist as if it’s fucking magnetized.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” Alex says, proud of how steady his voice is when he feels so wrecked.
“Don’t.”
That one word is enough to make Alex’s dick twitch in his pants. He’s captivated by Henry’s flushed cheeks; wonders how far down that blush goes.
“Gonna need you to stop trying to draw blood then,” he murmurs between sucking kisses down Henry’s neck. Henry exhales more shakily than a house of cards built on Jell-o salad, but relaxes the hand trapping Alex’s.
Alex flexes his hand to get some feeling back into it before resuming his task. He brings his lips to Henry’s, kissing him hard, as he finally gets his hand on Henry’s cloth-covered cock. Henry straight up groans into Alex’s mouth and bucks his hips into Alex’s hand, seeking more contact, more friction, just—
“More, Alex, please—”
Alex manages to get Henry’s pants open quickly, only fumbling when Henry nips behind his ear. He doesn’t waste any time working a hand inside Henry’s briefs, wrapping around Henry’s cock; it feels fucking perfect in his hand. Henry pushes into Alex’s grip, establishing a rhythm that matches his racing heart. Henry’s desperation drives Alex wild.
He crowds Henry even closer to the wall, chuckling darkly at the rattle of Hamilton’s frame, and stills Henry’s hips with an arm across his abs.
“Let me.”
“Get on with it, then,” Henry pleads, eyes closed, sweat beading at his hairline, so fucking stunning, and Alex is more than happy to oblige.
It takes Alex a second to find the right angle, but once he does, he starts jacking Henry with fucking intent. Sure, he jerked Liam off, but that was years ago, and he was pretty drunk. This time, he’s stone cold sober — too jumpy during dinner to handle a wine glass. This time, he’s practically on fire from the feel of broad shoulders and strong thighs beneath his hands. This time, it’s Henry — and that, apparently, changes everything.
There’s enough precome leaking from Henry’s cock to make Alex’s strokes smooth, and he wants to record the wet noises for goddamn posterity — proof that he’s the one making Henry feel good, pulling Henry toward his orgasm. Alex doesn’t know what words would spill from his lips if he took them off Henry’s (he’s pretty sure there would be more terms of endearment than he’s comfortable acknowledging), so he doesn’t. He keeps his mouth fused to Henry’s, exploring with his tongue and catching Henry’s moans and hitching breaths before they echo through the room.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex knows they’re running out of time. Amy told him five minutes and every second past that is borrowed time. He speeds up his hand and now both of Henry’s legs are around Alex’s waist, caging him in. Alex lets Henry’s hips move as they want to, desperate to get Henry’s hair between his fingers. It’s just as soft as he imagined, so you know, fuck him.
“Christ,” Henry moans against Alex’s lips, “close—”
“C’mon, sweetheart. Do it, come on—”
Henry does, with a whimper that would be a scream if Henry wasn’t clamping his lips shut. Alex gentles his hand, letting Henry come down before detangling their limbs.
“Wait, I can—”
Alex cuts him off. “No time, we’re pushing it already.”
“But, I—”
“You are going to be at least five hundred feet away from me for the rest of the night or I won’t be responsible for my actions. And then you’ll come to my bedroom and return the favor and then some and if you fucking ghost me again, I’ll have you put on a fucking no-fly list, got it?”
“Got it.”
Alex takes a few steps back, straightens his own suit and moves to the door with a last wink at Henry. He sees Henry’s blush get stronger before he slips out and shuts the door behind him with a grin.
#cricket writes#royalhearthuff#ficlet fest 500#rwrb#red room canon divergence#just a little bitty one#spicy under the cut#and a little hint of heat above the cut
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Wincest Recs Part 2
Gencest/Weirdcest
patchwork scars (1000 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural
Additional Tags: weirdcest, Biting, Love Bites, Non-Sexual Kink, Mild Painplay, discussion of incest, Possessive Dean Winchester, Kinky Gen, Light Sadism, Light Masochism
Summary:
This thing—kink, sadomasochism, whatever it is between them—goes both ways.
This is the kinkiest shit I have ever read and they didn't even have fuck.
unlike lovers (4300 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
They’re not like that, and honestly it’s part of the problem, because how can you say ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you and only you, like a lover would’, without all the connotations of a long-term relationship? It’s unconventional.
Then again, nothing in their lives is conventional.
Funny story. I spent weeks searching for this fic because I thought I had dreamt it up but nope I finally found it. It's cute.
Deprivation (3339 words) by fogsrollingin
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
Takes place around S14E5 "Nightmare Logic."
Sam's stressed. He's forgetting to eat and people keep waking him up the minute he salvages time for some shut-eye.
Dean's there for him.
When You're Not Here (37459 words) by raziella
Chapters: 5/5
Fandom: Supernatural
Summary:
The third time Sam Winchester comes to school with bruises, Mrs. Davidson decides it's time to intervene - before it's too late.
This is pretty much true gen despite how the fic is tagged. It involves social services and it has some outsider point of view.
What I've Done (1185 words) by Amoreanonyname
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
He wasn’t going to say anything more about it. He could tell, Dean was happy to see him, but wasn’t going to humor this topic. Dean, young Dean would jump to obey John, to answer John’s questions, but this was an older Dean who was more loyal to someone else now. More loyal to his brother. John wasn’t the priority here, and he realized with another guilty jump in his stomach that he never should have been.
I enjoyed that John remained composed and did not choose violence like other fics I have read where he discovers the extent boys relationship.
Nothing Safe Is Worth The Drive (382 words) by angelszn
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
Dean came home from Hell to a demon-blood-addicted little brother. He takes it in stride.
If you like some dark!weirdcest then this is for you. Dean is very accommodating.
save it for a rainy day (917 words) by according2thelore
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
Dean has a wad of money hidden in his bag. It’s folded into a skin mag that he bought in Duluth, which itself is folded into a tube of socks. He calls it his Sammy Stash. Dad and Sam don’t know about it. It’s a stack of crumpled bills he’s earned through hustling at pool and hoarded from short-term jobs he’s worked, pressed flat as they can go to look as inconspicuous as possible. It’s for one very specific purpose, in the same way Dean’s entire life has had one very specific purpose.
Well, this was a gut punch of epic proportions.
Cracked (282 words) by Linden
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
It was October, the season of frost and the early dark and the slow soft dying of the year, and John’s world was ending.
These Stanford Era fics are trying to kill me. Seriously.
Through the devil softly (4888 words) by siamesedreams
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
It's like walking with a permanent veil in front of his eyes, everything's blurry. He can't tell if the world around him is real, or not, if he's in Dean's arms or if he was in the Cage all along.
An infernal cursed amulet? Chief would know what this is. I'm going to have him touch it. (2441 words) by fogsrollingin
Chapters: 2/3
Summary:
"What could go wrong?"
This is incomplete but I think it does the job. It's told from an outsider's point of view. This fic and the one above deal with Sam's hallucinations.
Sins of the Father (1434 words) by Amoreanonyname
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
It’s true what they say about parenthood – it causes you to look at your own parents, and their choices, a bit differently. Though for Sam, perhaps that was for different reasons.
Sam, as a parent, reflects on his three parents, living day-to-day, and trying to parent when your soulmate has died.
Flowers facing the sun (2087 words) by StripySock
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
Dean is sick as hell, and Robo!Sam is the closest thing he has to comfort.
swallow my breath and take what is mine (4636 words) by according2thelore
Chapters:1/1
Summary:
Dean Winchester wakes up and it’s dark. John Winchester stands sentinel in a cemetery. Sam Winchester’s hands are bleeding. A story in three parts.
Or: John Winchester has a new training exercise for his older son.
This was fucked up. I liked it and I lowkey can see this happen if John lost his mind somewhere on his journey to Azazel.
It Goes Like This (36085 words) by sprinkles888
Chapters: 8/8
Summary:
It goes like this: They both say yes. And somehow, the world doesn't end. With little else to do, Sam and Dean take hold of an opportunity that comes their way—taking charge of a diner in a small Iowa town. But, even as the hubbub of the diner fills their day, the nights of fighting back the archangels in their heads will drive the two of them closer than ever in an effort to keep the apocalypse continually on pause.
Meanwhile, the residents of Lageme attempt to understand the two new, weird guys who took over Darla's.
This is an odd fic but it's worth a read. The struggle to remain in control was done really well. A good portion of the fic is from the perspective of an outsider.
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fic recs let's gooo
these some of my personal favourite long-form/multi-chap fics
***please mind the tags! the horror fics are kinda fucked up and i know that isn't for everyone so just make sure you know what you're about to read ps i might make a separate list for other horror fics?***
under the cut because there are so many sorry and i added comments because i can't shut up apparently.
so, in alphabetical order....
The Cheapest Room In The House by biggaybenny [E | 89k]
what if instead of a very sincere and earnest love confession dean just found out cas was gay? no confession, no god-jack endgame. just post-s15 stupidity. just dean being deranged. the dean downloads grindr for cas fic
you know it, you love it. thee chaotic boy besties fic with parts that will also rip you open
Fenario by ftmsteverogers (@/sodomitecastiel) [E | 47k]
“We did good, Dean,” Sam says. “We got him back.” Dean huffs a hollow laugh, because yeah, that’s always what it’s about, isn’t it? Cas or Sam or Dean getting themselves lost or dead, and then taking turns dragging each other back from the brink. He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “We got him back, yeah,” he says. Sam nods, watching him. “So now what?”
once again you know it and you love it. THEE lake house fix it fic. also love that they are jewish and you can tell how much of the author's heart clearly went into this. one of those fics where it will ususpectingly knock you to your knees with a single sentence
Linden by fleeceframe (@/tasteslikevelvet) [E | 67k]
Castiel’s heart stumbles before he can stop it, before he can think about how pathetic that is. To think that every interaction the Swans have proceeds them, that everyone is just waiting to get a glimpse of one of them to fuel their gossip circles for the next three days. Even the invisible shy flutter in his stomach at the thought of the Swans (not the Swans, just one of them, just one single man, but is that any better?) makes Castiel feel like he’s participating in the blatant objectification that he’s uncomfortable just witnessing. The Swans are only people. This is something that Castiel holds onto. Just people who happen to have a generational curse in their bloodline. And when he interacts with Sam Winchester or Eileen Leahy at his stall, it’s easy. He says hello, they say hello back. The Swans are just people. And yet, Dean Winchester remains unfathomable.
ohhhh this fic feels like springtime and sunlight through the trees and everything that is good. i devoured this fic, it is so sweet and captivating and wonderfully poetic. a comfort read fr
The Lord of The Lake by rhinestoneangels (almondrose) (@pinknatural) [T | 29k]
The lakehouse is haunted.
this fic is so special to me. there's emma. there's a cat. they're a FAMILY. there's ACE DEAN!?? it's thee ace!dean fic for me and steph did such a wonderful job exploring that
Muder Ballads (Red Right Hand) by Duckyboos [E | 85k+]
It all starts with the mysterious note left on Dean’s chair. It all ends with Dean coming to terms not only with what he’s capable of, but how much that knowledge doesn’t bother him.
hehe this is one of the ones you need to make sure you're comfortable with before you read it... it's yeah.. it's real dark. the storytelling is so compelling and i could NOT put this down. sometimes you gotta read something kinda fucked up. especially when it is so well written. also if you do like this then i recommend everything duckyboos has written hehe
Put Up Your Dukes by saltyfeathers [E | 38k]
Dean can't sleep. Cas offers to tire him out.
i mean *i* have always considered this a classic. honestly it's so fun and funny and just ugh i just love it, so read it pls
Revelation 13 by fullvoid [E | 44k]
It’s Dean’s day off, and he’d like to spend it how he always does—by kicking his feet up with a cold one and watching soap operas—not by discovering an enormous, creepy hole in his bathroom wall that definitely wasn’t there when he went to bed last night. But it’s no big deal. He can just patch it up and still devote plenty of time to Dr. Sexy afterward. There is only one problem. He can’t leave his apartment, and there’s a message on his front door written in…is that blood? And why is it signed by someone named “Cas”? Things can only get better from here, right?
hehe i know nothing about silent hill but i DO know that this is an amazing horror fic!! read it in one sitting and would do it again!
Russian to the Altar by MalMuses [E | 144k]
“I need you to marry Castiel.” They weren’t the words Dean expected to hear from his business partner’s mouth before their bakery-slash-chocolate shop opened for the day. He’d been quite happy being single—and who the fuck was Castiel, anyway? It turned out that Castiel was a Russian erotic novelist in need of a ticket to America, and Dean… well, Dean was a last resort.
i LOVE a romcom fic and this one is soooo fantastic (it's a classic, right?) it has bdsm. it has destiel being idiots in love. it's also incredibly sweet. what more could you want?
Seek to Know You Better by ahurston [E | 33k]
Dean and Cas, a long stretch of highway, and 36 questions empirically designed to make two people fall in love. As if they weren't already.
CANONVERSE ROMCOM? YEAH.
The Shawnee Trail by emmbrancsxx0 (@/valleydean) [E | 166k]
In 1887, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak lead a peaceful life in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean and Sam are stagecoach messengers for Wells, Fargo and Castiel is the town doctor. When Castiel's patient, Kelly Kline, knocks on their door one night about to give birth, she asks for the Winchesters and Castiel's help in protecting her son against one of the west's most notorious outlaws. To fulfill that promise, the men set out on a journey full of shootouts, trouble with the law, gambling, and an important discovery: Dean and Castiel really need to define the nature of their relationship.
WESTERN AU. also to quote myself: "fics that make you pace around your room at midnight while sobbing". also once again i can't believe this isn't a piece of classic literature it's just that damn good.
So Says The Sword by komodobits [E | 85k]
The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’ Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.
we all agree this is canon, right? a classic. it completely shook me up the first time i read it, and honestly it change my perspective of the entire show, for the better of course.
Vagabonds by chevrolangels [E | 89k]
Dean is a sheriff in a tiny town in Colorado, restless and unsatisfied with his life. It's not like what he's read about in the dime novels since he was little, capturing dangerous outlaws and being the last word of the law. More like tossing the town drunk in a cell to sober up when they get a little too rowdy.
But Dean's chance comes when a thief rolls through their town. He pursues the thief, which puts him right into the path of Emmanuel, a notorious outlaw. When he is captured by the outlaw and his gang to be held for ransom, Dean starts off on a journey he could have never envisioned, and learns that perhaps there's more to Emmanuel than meets the eye.
another western au!! this list would not be complete without this fic. one of my very faves. it's my ultimate comfort fic. i get so sad whenever i finish it because i never want it to end. i can't praise it enough i don't have the words
What Baking Can Do by cowlovely (@dollhousemary) [T | 63k]
She lets out a low whistle. “Damn,” she says, not even bothering to look up as Dean comes to sit on the counter beside her. “You guys did well yesterday, huh?”
Dean shrugs. “I guess. Wednesdays get a lot of foot traffic. Dunno why.”
Jo gives him a sidelong look. “It’s because on Wednesdays, we have your ‘Strawberry Heaven Pie’ or whatever the hell you call it.”
“Strawberry Chocolate Oasis Pie,” he corrects. “And there’s absolutely no way to prove that. People probably just like to get some sorta treat in the middle of the week or whatever.”
“I absolutely can prove that, when was the last time any of that pie was left at the end of the day—hell, at the end of the morning shift?”
“Okay, that’s definitely an exaggeration,” he retorts. “It’s never sold out before lunch.”
“Can you stop being a bitch and accept that people like your pie?”
i have no idea what waitress is and it literally doesn't matter because ivy makes this its whole own world... if you want something insanely sweet, with amazing character depth and that feels like a warm hug, look no further. this is one of my comfort fics and i have read it multiple times and will read it again!!!!!
Who Ya Gonna Call? by saintedcastiel (@saintedcastiel) [M | 49k]
Finally free from Chuck's machinations, Dean flees the bunker to make a home for himself away from the hunting world. He settles into his new life but can't quite shake the feeling that he's not alone. There's a ghost haunting him, tied to the last thing on Earth that Castiel touched. As the spirit gets angrier and more dangerous to the people around him, will Dean be able to bring himself to let him go?
if you're reading this the day i post this you might have seen me losing my mind on the dash. read it one sitting because it pulled me in instantly and would not let me go. so beautifully written and it's... it's the ending we deserved. i think this needs to be the next fandom classic i am Not joking. one of the few fics that made me sob my eyes out i don't even know what to say anymore just read it please trust me it's WONDERFUL.
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Iss. 5:
The Unknown Rot, Redhaven's New Illness!
Part One
Another supernatural tragedy struck Redhaven as local painter Eustace Simmons passed this week due to an unusual disease. The Redhaven Delegate has secured, with permission from the family, a report on the circumstances of his passing and the source of his strange illness.
It seems that the new world we find ourselves in does not abide by all the same rules as the previous one did, including the rules of life and death...
---
Eustace Simmons, stubbled face crumpled with effort, grunts along the evening sidewalk. Another man hangs from his shoulder by one arm, the other slung loosely across the neck of a woman with her dark, greying hair tied into a bun.
Eustace and the woman carry their charge along for another minute or so then slow to a stop, setting the man on the ground and propping him against an unlit barbershop.
Eustace leans hard against his knees and huffs, coughing out, “Did he gain weight d’ya think, Minerva?”
The woman finishes coughing herself and then cackles disdainfully. “Its all water-weight, or booze-weight, I guess. Too much for one evening, methinks. It’ll be a few more blocks yet anyway, so catch your breath.”
Eustace grimaces and raises a brow. “A few more blocks? He lives right down at the end of Linden, doesn’t he?”
Minerva rubs the back of her neck and shrugs, gesturing vaguely toward an upcoming street corner as she replies, “You didn’t stop by George’s place before going to the pub, but they closed off Linden Street this morning to take down a few of the damaged buildings. We’ll have to go around.”
The man groans and begins to protest, but his companion hushes him. “Just relax, we’ll be there before you know it. I’m not cutting through any constructions site, either. I’d throw my back out! Now, help Georgie up again, he’s starting to drool.”
Eustace does, though his brown eyes remain half shut in annoyance the whole time. “Throw your back out,” he mutters, “As if that weren’t what we were already doing.”
Minerva doesn’t respond as the two continue to carry their friend down the road.
They pass the construction site, previously humming but now silent and desolate. One formerly filled building lot is now an empty foundation, a repository for rubble, mostly brick and wood. Several other lots are cordoned off and waiting. They carry on another block and then turn down an alley by the light of the gas lamps, the moonless, starless skies overhead.
Between breaths, Eustace mutters, “Do you…hear…that…Minnie?”
She doesn’t answer but a figure emerges from up ahead.
They are covered in layers of dirty, torn clothing, hood and all, and they reek even at a distance. Their gait is uneven, unsure, and they stumble against a wall to hold themselves up.
As Eustace and Minerva draw close and start to pass, the figure groans, “H-help…me…please…”
Eustace responds almost right away, taking a careful breath first. “Sorry, we really have to get our friend home. There’s a clinic down the street though, the way we came. The doctor is a live-in so you should[TWO DASHES]”
Eustace is cut off as the figure darts upright. Their hood flies back to reveal a sickly, pale visage, sunken cheeks and eyes, their face and neck covered in open sores, purple bruises, and unhealed cuts.
Before either Eustace or Minerva can shout or dodge, the person lunges towards Eustace and takes hold of him by the arm. They grab his right hand and yank on it with desperate ferocity. They bite into his hand, deep, and Eustace kicks them several times until they thrash away.
Eustace stares at the gangly figure, arms held up defensively, primed for another attack, but the assailant slinks off into the shadows again, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, sorry…”
“Is your hand alright?” Minerva asks, breaking Eustace out of his focus. She is half lent against a wall, barely holding George up under his armpits.
Eustace glances down at his bloody hand and then winces, looking away and paling.
“I’ll take that as a no?” A low, gruff voice emits from George now, he’s eyes have just cracked open.
The drunk sobers up slightly and lifts himself to his own unsteady feet as Minerva wipes her hands off on her skirt. He speaks, though his speech is slightly rounded, sanded off at the corners. “Whaddid ya do to piss that guy off, eh? Grumpy bastard, he was.”
Eustace presses his hand tightly between the folds of his overcoat, barely staunching the flow of blood at the cost of a sharp spike in pain. He responds through gritted teeth, “Don’t know, they just came at me. Damn.” His face pales again and he groans, “Minnie, can you get George home now that he’s walking? I need to get back to my place before I…uh…” Eustace’s head grows light and his vision flashes with darkness, but he shakes off the sensation. “…before I pass out.” He finishes curtly.
George steps in an uncertain circle, then nods. Minerva withdraws a baton from her coat, just a metal stick a half-foot long, and nods as well. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the pub again, right?” she asks, voice shaking just a hair.
Eustace grins, though it shows as more of a grimace, and he answers, “Of course, you two are the only people I can stand to be around these days besides Millie. See you in the morning, good night.”
“Good night.”
“Night.”
---
Eustace sets a stack of off-white dishes into a kitchen sink, bread crumbs and coffee stains inside and atop them. He rinses his hands off with plain water, taking care around the right one, which is wrapped in partially soiled gauze.
He wipes his face with a dish towel as well, evacuating the remnants of his breakfast from his motley stubble.
He finally makes his way out of the kitchen and into a side room, a painting space into which falls the dull, whitish rays of the sunless dawn. There is an incomplete painting propped upon an easel, a collection of brushes and pigments, and an unusual still life arranged before them.
The center of the scene is a disused typewriter surrounded with carefully stacked notepads and writing instruments, arranged not for practically but for visual appeal. The pads, pencils, pens, and quills form patterns that subtly lead the eye around the table, to the typewriter, then back out for another lap.
He opens a few of the pigments and takes up a brush in his right hand, then begins to work.
The first few strokes are simple, easy, then his hand begins to rebel, attacking him with flares of pain that make him grit his teeth. Sweat beads up on his brow, errant strokes demand patient correction, more time, more pigment, thicker layers, dip, dip, stroke, flare, grit, sweat, dip, dip, dip.
Eustace throws his brush across the room and the gauze comes loose on his hand. A fleck of dark, rotten blood flies from it and lands on his canvas. He stares at the spot.
There is a knock a the door, genial, confident. Eustace chokes once, then clears his throat and calls out, “I’ll be right there.” He lumbers to the kitchen and removes his still-soiled dishes from the basin, then washes his hand fully. Black-red something comes away, thicker than blood, though the pain isn’t as bad as Eustace expects. He ruins a towel drying his hand, packs cotton around the wound, and wraps it up with fresh gauze.
A voice calls through the front door, slightly muffled but high and calm, “I can go if it’s a bad time.”
Eustace’s heart jumps and he turns hard on his heel toward the voice. “No, no, not at all!” He powers over and opens the door with his left hand to reveal a pleasant young woman, almost his spitting image though with much longer hair. “Millie, dear, it’s great to see you! Come in, please! I could put on some coffee or something if you like, tea maybe?”
The young woman smiles smugly and enters, “Oh, the royal treatment? This is a much warmer welcome than I’m used to.” She sits down at a small round table as her host fills a kettle. jovially, she continues, “And you’re going with Millie now, not Mildred? What’s gotten into to you?”
Eustace answers casually, though his tone is flecked with worry. “Well, I’m just a bit shaken up lately is all. It’s just quite nice to have something to take my mind off of things.”
Millie raises a brow and asks, “Shaken? What’s that for, is the painting difficult? You aren’t already running out of supplies, are you?”
Eustace sets the kettle on the stove and turns around, raising his bandaged hand into the air. “It’s just this. I was attacked on the way home from the bar the other night. Strangest thing, the fellow bit me on my good hand. I’ll be fine though, it just needs time to heal.”
Millie raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, but doesn’t question it. “Well, Harvey gave me a day, so I thought I’d swing by to see your latest project if you don’t mind. I take it you aren’t done?”
Eustace tuts and pours coffee into a small cup with a floral pattern. “Not quite, I’d be done today, but it seems unlikely now. Technically it was supposed to be a surprise for you, but I don’t mind sharing.”
“Oh no, I love a surprise so don’t spoil it! We’ll just chat then, I’m in no rush.”
And they do for a little while. Eustace’s focus goes in and out and Millie flashes him an odd look here and there, but the subject matter remains light. Eustace grumbles about the pain in his hand, the prices at the pub, George’s drinking habits, and Millie matches with comments about her coworkers and how strange the sky is to look at, day or night.
“Are you going to report it?” Millie asks abruptly.
Eustace spaces for a moment, then responds, “Report what? Oh, the attack?”
Millie nods.
“To who, the police? They’ll just turn it over to the confederates, and the confederates don’t work for locals like us.” Eustace grumbles.
Millie shrugs and says, “Well, at least have your hand checked. I’m sure the clinic by George’s will take a look.”
Eustace nods and the two sit in silence for a minute or two. Millie finishes her second cup of coffee and rises. “I think that’ll do it then. I have a few errands to run but it was nice catching up.” She flashes another smile, this one warmer, and sets her cup in the sink. “Tell George and Minnie I said hi, and…dad?”
Eustace raises an eyebrow.
“Take care of yourself, alright?”
“Of course,” Eustace answers with practiced, dry composure.
He rises a moment later and shows her politely to the door.
When she’s gone, he returns to his studio and takes up his brush again, this time switch-handed. The effort feels wasted. The strokes are even less confident then they were in his right hand, and the corrections even more demanding. Dip, dip, stroke, dip, wait, wait, glance, dip, stroke, curse, grumble, stroke, wait, wait…
Eustace sets down the brush and turns away. It’s dark outside already. The light coming in the window is the yellow flickering of the gas lamps. Eustace glances back to the clock above the doorway. “The pub is already closed? How did I miss so much time? Hmm, I hope Minnie and George aren’t worried too much.” “I suppose if they were,” he thinks, “then they’ll swing by”
Time seems to melt again as Eustace heads to his bedroom. The night carries on but sleep doesn’t come, just more pain in his hand and a growing headache. He turns and throws his bedding on the floor. He’s beginning to sweat and his stomach rumbles ferociously. He rises and mutters, “Breakfast, I only had breakfast today.”
He stumbles to the kitchen and digs through the pantry, bumping his knees, elbows, and knuckles on every available surface. He pulls out bread, crackers, vegetables, canned fruit, and despite the continued growling in his stomach, the hunger in his throat; the sight of them elicits disgust.
He pushes the goods away, drops them on the floor and discards them to-and-fro, until he finally gets to the fridge. It’s a small appliance, one that sits just at counter height with a large radiator on top. He opens it up. Inside sits an uncooked chicken breast among other things.
His stomach growls again and the pain in his hand flares up ferociously. Something about the pale meat, partly thawed for tomorrow’s dinner, is hypnotizing. The gentle, gelatinous pink, the fatty streaks of white, all glistening and soft, demanding to be--
Eustace is leaning over the sink. “How did I…” He stares into the basin. His hands are slightly slimy, especially on the fingertips. There is a taste lingering in his mouth as well, just faintly there, sweet and savory. He washes his hands and then checks the fridge again.
The chicken is gone.
Eustace feels as though he should want to retch, but he feels comfortable, full and satisfied. The pain in his hand has eased tremendously as well and his headache has fled.
“Something…something is very wrong with me. I need…I need to go somewhere…” he mutters. “Where though? The clinics aren’t open at this hour, and what would they even do?”
Eustace flexes his right hand and a mild pain jolts through it and up his arm. He peels back the bandage slightly. The wound still hasn’t healed at all, and neither have any of the little bumps or bruises he’s suffered over the course of the day. His mind flashes back to the alley, to the wounded person who bit him.
Quietly, Eustace heads into his studio and takes a notepad, not one from the still life but a spare one, and begins to write:
“Millie or whoever is reading this, I’ve come down with something terrible and am searching for help now. Please take care of the house until I’m back, and if I don’t come back, the house and everything in it should go to Millie Simmons.”
He signs his name beneath in a clean, cordial hand, then tears the note out.
Eustace walks back into the kitchen and sets the note on the round table, takes his coat from a hook by the door, and grabs a rarely used cane.
He feels ill at ease, something is lurking within him, behind him. He considers running from it but steels himself instead.
He opens the door and disappears into the moonless streets of Redhaven.
---
The story doesn’t end there, but further investigation is ongoing at this time. The Redhaven Delegate will have the complete picture soon, so if you want to know what happens next, make sure to pick up the next issue as soon as it comes out.
As always, The Redhaven Delegate stands with The People, and for The Truth, no matter how strange. - Harvey Donaghue, Editor-in-chief, TRD
---
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#trd#the redhaven delegate#writing#writeblr#unreality#short story#series#violence#biting#described gore#meat#cw meat#blood#horror#TRD: Eustace Simmons#TRD: George Bailley#TRD: Minerva Flint#TRD: Millie Simmons
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Linden & Colton - 26
(masterlist)
CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, a tiny mention of throwing up
this is a flashback chapter! but since I want to keep the chapters specifically titled Flashback to be about Col's old master, this one can be a proper chapter. besides, it's been long enough <3 this chapter incorporates some text from this ask and I suppose this ask is a continuation!
-
Linden looked between the bored council worker and the pet at his feet.
He and the worker exchanged meaningless pleasantries. It all became very real in an instant. He couldn’t back out now. He didn’t want to back out, but- the reality still hit him like a blow to the stomach. His hand tightened around the doorknob.
The pet was frozen; the only part of him that was moving at all was his hair, a breeze lightly combing through it.
“No problems with sight, no sign of illness, uh, ate what he was given, uh….”
Linden bent at the waist slightly, smiling down at the pet, although the smile went unseen.
“Hello, there.”
Nothing. The man didn’t move an inch, except to squeeze his eyes shut. Linden paused.
“Can he speak?”
“I don’t think so, hasn’t said a word since we got him in… can you speak, pet?”
Linden watched, hoping for some reaction, but he stayed motionless.
“He can hear, though,” the worker added, predicting Linden’s next question. “Yeah, so… there’s that.”
The breeze picked up, but the man knelt in Linden’s doorway didn’t react.
“I suppose there isn’t much else you can tell me about him,” he asked flatly.
The worker stretched his neck, thinking. “Uhhh… he’s a big fella, but not a fighter by the looks of it.”
Linden noted the slim leash. Other than that, the only other restraints were the handcuffs holding his hands behind his back.
It was true, the man looked like he’d be tall if he stood to his full height, but at present he wasn’t even daring to look up. Linden hadn’t fully considered the fact that the pet might have been violent. God, he might have had to actually restrain him, if that had been the case.
Am I insane? Linden suddenly thought, both frantic and oddly calm. Is this an insane thing to do? It’s too late now, anyway. What on earth is Vik gonna say?
“Okay, thank you. Enjoy your day.”
The leash was exchanged, the handcuffs removed. The worker gave him a quick nod goodbye and rattled away in his van as Linden looked down at the figure outside his house.
. . .
Pet couldn’t breathe.
He really couldn’t breathe. Terror weighed so desperately on his chest that he couldn’t draw any air into his lungs.
He was back. After all these months he was back, back in the clutches of a sole human, outside the house that would become his entire world in just a few moments.
It was all going to start again. He was going to re-learn how to please his owner. Every bit of his body and mind was going to be broken and re-set to his new Master’s desires.
“Hello, there.”
Pet hadn’t been spoken directly at in a long time. He was so accustomed to having humans talk about him as if he wasn’t there.
He was used to being tested, however. He’d been given no direct orders, nor permission to answer. He kept being good, with his head bowed low.
“Can he speak?”
“I don’t think so, hasn’t said a word since we got him in… can you speak, pet?”
The last thing I’m going to do is take an order from someone other than my Master, thought Pet. No. I have to show him that I’m loyal. If Master asks me, then I’ll speak.
His new owner was apparently satisfied with his silence, though.
Distantly, Pet felt himself wilt, just a tiny bit. This Master didn’t care to let him speak, then. This could be it for life. He might never utter another word.
But it was fine, it was fine, he was owned and this was what he was for, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he felt empty and scared and lonely on the streets? Hadn’t he been just days from starvation before those humans stuffed him into a cage at the local shelter?
His sinking heart was betraying him. He wished he could just be good, he wished he could be overjoyed at being given another chance to serve his only purpose.
The thought of punishments shouldn’t scare him, they were necessary. They helped.
Why did he want to throw up?
Pet would do anything to please this man. What silly animal thoughts could he ever need to articulate, anyway? Why was he acting like he was capable of having ideas worth saying?
“He can hear, though. Yeah, so… there’s that.”
“I suppose there isn’t much else you can tell me about him.”
Pet would know displeasure a thousand miles off. His new owner was looking down at him in irritation. Pet wondered what the punishment would be if he pressed himself to the cold stone and begged then and there that he would be worthy.
“Uhhh… he’s a big fella, but not a fighter by the looks of it.”
That’s right, thought Pet, his eyes widening with emotion. I’m not a fighter, I’m nothing, I’m absolutely nothing. You can mould me, Master. I’ll be whatever you want. I’ll earn my stay and maybe you won’t have to hurt me too badly.
Having got all the information he needed, Pet’s new Master sent the handler away and Pet took the deepest breath of his life. In half a second he took in the coolness of the wind, the fresh air, the sound of birds and dogs and cars, knowing with absolute certainty that he would never be among any of it again.
. . .
The man was dressed in shorts that looked too small, and a t-shirt with a design so faded it looked like static. Even after the handcuffs had been taken off, his wrists remained crossed across his back. Like any movement might be the wrong one.
“Come in, come in.”
Linden was put further on edge when the man crawled in, still staring at the floor, still silent.
He bent down to unclip the leash and saw him flinch, oh god, oh fucking hell he was in so far over his head.
He took several steps back, winding the leash around his hand nervously. He needed a second.
All he knew was he had a spare bedroom, and enough time off work. He had food, and a harmless cat, and he guessed he would figure the rest out as he went.
“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m- I’m- I’m going to make it okay.” Linden felt like he was speaking to himself rather than the pet. “You don’t have to stare at the floor. You can look around.”
He felt more than a little relieved when the man obeyed.
His hair was a sandy kind of blond, and Linden was fairly sure that his eyes were green. It was hard to tell when they were moving across his house so rapidly. Linden had naturally noticed the endless collection of scars up and down his body, but as the pet lifted his head, he could see one more: a white line across his left cheek.
He lifted a hand to his own cheek and felt the soft flesh there. He was uneasy even imagining the pain that accompanied that single wound. What on earth had this man gone through? And- Linden thought despairingly- how would he ever earn his trust?
Looking to the side, into the living room, Linden saw Jaffa's empty cat bed, a small symbol of his peaceful household. Okay. Maybe things could be okay.
No- he would make sure they were okay. This man was his priority now. His property too, unfortunately.
He made his way a little bit closer to the man. “This will be your home now. For… the foreseeable future. I know you didn’t get a choice in this, and I’m sorry. My name is Linden.”
. . .
Pet couldn’t take it all in. A new house, a new Master, a new life. It felt like his thoughts were moving too fast for his brain.
“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m- I’m- I’m going to make it okay.”
Pet exhaled and breathed in the indoor air for the first time. He would have to savour this too, before he was taken down to the basement. He remembered the smell of his old home well enough- his own blood and filth, with nothing to dilute it.
The wording was odd, but it sounded as if his new Master was looking for a project. A pet that needed some heavy refurbishments. And of course, he could speak however he liked- Pet would need to get used to it, learn to read between the lines.
“You don’t have to stare at the floor. You can look around.”
Pet obeyed without thinking, but it struck him what a kindness this was. There was no need for him to see the house; he would spend most of his life chained away or blindfolded, and it wasn’t as if he were allowed to speak to compliment his new Master’s home.
Crouched in the doorway, he looked into the house. It was wooden and old; the bannisters were worn with age, the floorboards were exposed, and Pet’s new owner stood amongst it like an add-on. He was dressed in brown and pine green, with long black hair, and dark skin. Shadowy, Pet thought. The man, his Master, had a faraway look to him. Guarded, even a little suspicious.
Particles of dust floated between them as Master slowly came closer. Pet could only brace himself for whatever was about to happen. Master could strip him down, inspect him, hurt him, throw him into the basement and lock the door. He could do whatever he wanted to his new living property.
“This will be your home now,” Master said slowly. “For… the foreseeable future. I know you didn’t get a choice in this, and I’m sorry. My name is Linden.”
Pet listened. Master’s name went through his head, but didn’t linger. He knew it wasn’t for him to use.
“I’m going to take this off,” Master said, and usually this kind of warning meant Pet was supposed to prepare himself- take his shirt off, or turn around to offer his back, or hold out his wrists- but he had no idea what Master was even referring to. Panic set in. What was he going to do to him? What was there to take?
Master reached out and Pet didn’t flinch this time, because he knew better. He couldn’t suppress a gasp, however, when he felt cold fingers brushing against his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to swallow his fear.
He was so distracted by his own terror at what might be happening that he didn’t realise Master was undoing his collar until he pulled it away from Pet’s neck entirely.
He was untethered, again.
He’d been without a collar the whole time he’d been a stray. So long in fact that when he was collared just a few days ago, he had felt trapped, frightened, hardly able to breathe. Pets were meant to be collared. It had only backed up what he already knew, that he was defective in every way, that he never learned, that he needed to take a lot more pain before he could serve his purpose.
He almost reached a hand up to feel his bare skin, but caught himself. Was he trying to get a beating?
“That’s okay, you can touch it. You don’t need a collar in this house.”
Pet was so shocked he almost looked directly at his Master. He wasn’t just replacing the collar with another one? This was it?
He shouldn’t have felt relieved. He was bad. At least his old master had known that, and knew how to keep him in line. This Master was going to find out by himself. Pet was going to disappoint him at every turn until he realised that only the harshest discipline could keep him in line. And that meant a trip to the bedroom, an extended session with the handcuffs and restraints and-
His own pounding heartbeat brought him back to the present.
“You look so cold,” Master mused, though he spoke so quietly Pet wasn’t even sure if he was meant to hear it. “Come, follow me, and I’ll see what I can do.”
-
taglist part 1:
@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914
#linden and colton#pet whump#ive been writing consistently since the last official chapter#but i still suddenly feel nervous and out of practice hahaha#so i hope this satisfies!#and yes i put the line in about linden having time off work#because its been irritating me that we dont know why hes got sm free time#so you get a TINY BIT OF INFO. ONLY A CRUMB
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Tyler Hoechlin- Our Love
Watch Party And Hangovers
June 2011
We're having a watch party of the first episode at my place. Tyler and I are sat on the couch together while Posey, Dylan and Crystal are at on the other couch. Colten and Holland are sat on some bean bags while Ian, Mellisa, JR and Linden are sat on some dining room chairs that I've pulled out for them. We've got pizza, drinks and cake on the go
"How many views do we think this episode will gain?" Posey asks excitedly
"Hopefully enough" I sigh
"Hey, we've created something special here. Have faith" JR states
"Sorry. It's just, my first show ever and I'm nervous"
"That's understandable, but I have a good feeling about this show" Tyler puts his arm over my shoulders and pulls me into a side hug. I cuddle into him more. The opening music starts playing and making me feel giddy and nervous. I really hope the show goes down well!
At the end of the first episode we all cheer at how amazing it looked
"Well done everyone!" Mellisa claps smiling
"Oh my god"
"What?" I ask looking at Colton who's looking on his phone
"The episode garnered of 2 million views"
"Are you kidding?" I ask wide eyed
"Nope" I pick up my phone and go on to Twitter quickly noticing how my Twitter followers went from 500 followers to 13,000. The same with Instagram from 1000 to 15000
"This is..."
"Insane?" Posey says also looking rather shocked. I nod my head having lost all of my words
"Told you we created something special" JR says
"I think this deserves shots and drinks" I get up off the couch and jog over to the kitchen. I open up my alcohol cupboard and take out bottles of everything I own as well as shot glasses
"Tyler, Dylan you can take a shot of none alcoholic beer"
"Thanks" Dylan says not really meaning it but hey I'm a responsible adult and I'm not letting 2 19 year olds get drunk
"Ok everyone pick your poisons" I call out and my Teen Wolf family fall into the kitchen pouring their respective drinks
"Cheers and may this be the first episode of many seasons to come" I say holding my drink out
"Cheers" we all take our shots and then pour ourselves drinks.
Groaning I roll over in my bed, my head pounding. I end up hitting something hard. Slowly opening my eyes I see a body, Tyler's body. I snuggle closer into him, he wraps his arm around my waist. Suddenly I hear shouting coming from outside my room
“No they’re done look”
“No it needs to cook more” it’s Dylan and Posey
“They need to shut up. My head hurts”
“Told you not to drink that last can of beer”
“Yeah yeah whatever” I say slowing sitting up hearing the boys still arguing. I swing my legs out of bed and nearly trip when I take a step. Holland and Colton are still asleep. I remember JR, Mellisa and Linden all leave around 12 last night but everything else is a blur. I wrap my dressing gown around myself and head into the the kitchen
“What the hell are you boys doing to my kitchen? Where Crystal?” I ask looking around
“Well we were making you a hangover breakfast, Crystal said we had no idea what we were doing so she went to get a ‘proper’ breakfast” Dylan says in air quotes
“Well from the way you were arguing and that bacon is barley cooked, I can agree with Crystal” I move to the cupboard where I keep the first aid kit and all my medicine supplies. I take out a box of pain killers and a bottle of water out of the fridge. Out from my bedroom walks a sleepy Tyler
“Need any paracetamol?” I ask him
“No. I didn’t drink that much, but Holland and Colten may need some. Especially after Colten jumped off your couch and landed funny on his ankle”
“Please tell me you got it on video?”
“No but I think you did” my eyes widen and I run to my phone which was left on my coffee table. I have a look through my photos when I see it. I play the video and burst out laughing at watching Colten jump off the couch pretending to be Scott McCall. My head hurts so bad but I don’t care right now this is gold. I watch it a few more times which makes it even funnier
“Do you mind? Keep it down” I hear Colten. I look up and laugh even more
“Oh my god I’m gonna pee” I shout. His face winces at the noise. The door to the apartment then opens up
“What did you guys do to her?” Crystal says holding some bags
“Colten pretended to be Scott last night”
“Oh god” Colten face plants his face into his hands
“I think she’s still drunk” Posey says
“If she like this for the rest of the day, I need another drink” Holland comments
“Why don’t we get some food down us” Crystal suggests. I slowly start to calm down
“Ok, ok. I think I’m ok now. I’ll put my phone down” I place it back on the table. And stand back up “I’ll get dressed while I calm down”
“Have you got any pain killers?” Colten asks
“Erm yeah on the kitchen counter”
“Thanks” Colten limps over to the counter top causing me to burst out laughing again
“Ok come on let’s got” Tyler pushes me into my room
“He thought he was Scott”
“I know I know” Tyler sighs, but I can here he’s trying to hold back his own laugh.
#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf cast#teen wolf comic con#teen wolf actress#teen wolf#tyler hoechlin#tyler hoechlin imagine#tyler hoechlin x reader
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The Forge - Cara @ The Arcade by Deccan Arida
Via Flickr:
The Forge Cara Gacha @ Arcade. For Maitreya & Legacy Bodies. * a few techinical issues have been updated since release. Please message me inworld if you need them. 24 Commons & 3 Rares to Collect. Includes HUDPACKS for Rares and Non Rigged Blaster Gun with Holster. TP: The Arcade
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(Im so sorry to keep writing fanfic of Linden and Col (written by the amazing @whumpzone )but I just… this was too good to ignore.)
(Tw noncon, Tw murder (threats/implications/etc) Tw choking, nsft, all kinds of familiar hell for Col)
He stumbles up to his room, shutting the door as fast as he could before ripping off all the clothes Vik had let him borrow and pulling on layers and layers of the most baggy, frumpy, oversized clothing he can. Never ever ever did he want to give anyone the idea that he wanted it. He didn’t want it, ever.
It was scary and it hurt and he thought it was different but Vik had said it so openly, had laughed about it, like those other men, seemingly both a thousand years ago and just yesterday. Linden hadn’t said anything…
He hadn’t even done anything wrong. He was just trying on clothes.
He said it wouldn’t be like that here…
He dragged himself under the bed, unable to think about being on it, pulling the blankets down with him till he was completely wrapped up. He didn’t want it, he didn’t, he didn’t. He wouldn’t dress up, he wouldn’t mess with his hair, he would stay quiet and covered.
Even with the fear that was threatening to overwhelm him, sadness crept in too. He liked Vik. He liked Linden. Linden had promised it wouldn’t happen. He had make a rule.
Maybe that only applied when he was still so broken. Now that he was “better”, things were different. Maybe if it looked like he wanted it, the rule no longer applied.
Dressing up was never something he had been allowed to do, and it had been fun… He didn’t understand the appeal of some of the things, but the gel held the hair out of his eyes, and Linden had said that the colors looked nice. He’d never seen himself as anything but a pet, but with regular clothes he’d felt almost…like a person.
But he wasn’t. He was just a pet, and he had been lucky to be just a pet. Better a pet than a fuck-boy.
Linden knew something was wrong the second Vik said it, but it look him a moment to rework the situation from Col’s point of view. The moment things clicked together he looked at Vik. “Don’t say that. Don’t call him that.”
“Oh come on, I’m not serious,-“ Vik still didn’t get it, he was still digging through the stuff he had brought, laughing at the thought, “You already had turned him into a right hermit like you, I can’t-“
“Vikram.”
This was serious.
This was very, very serious.
He looked up, catching, finally, what Linden had.
“Oh.” Viks eyes widened and all his cheap-cologne charm was gone, “Oh shit… I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think-“
“I didn’t either, I should have.” Linden ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He needed to fix this.
He started to hurry towards Cols room, but slowed, making his footsteps audible but not fast or too loud. Running at him right now was not the way to do it.
“Col?” he called lightly through the door, “Hey, Col, it’s just me.”
He should get up and unlock the door. His master shouldn’t even need to knock, it was his house and he was his property.
But he couldn’t. Some ancient, disobedient part of him struggled against everything he had been taught, and it held him still, hidden and quiet.
“Col? Are you in there?”
He couldn’t force the door open, it would be the worst thing he could even attempt in this situation. He just hoped that Col had enough faith left in him to open it.
His lower lip trembled, trying to swallow the lump in his throat to speak.
“Yes sir.” he managed, forcing himself out from under the bed.
Maybe if I do this, things will go back to the way they were. Maybe he’ll be gentle, maybe it is just this. Maybe I could still sit in the sun, and play with Jaffa, and drink tea in the kitchen, if I just close my eyes and…let it happen. It would be worth it, right? What’s an hour to a day?
The few steps to the door seemed to take every shred of energy he had.
One step.
It was only two of them. They weren’t violent or quick to anger. Vik might still call him names or spit on him, but Linden might not. They probably wouldn’t tie him down unless they had to. He would try to stay still.
Two steps.
He had no bruises for them to dig their fingers into, no cuts to reopen. He hadn’t been starved or dehydrated in months. Neither of them were particularly strong, not like before. They couldn’t hold him up by the throat or yank him around. Their hands wouldn’t leave finger shaped bruises on his thighs, his hips, his neck. Of all the times, this one likely wouldn’t be the most painful.
Three steps.
Then he could sit in the shower and scrub till his skin was raw and cry till there was nothing left to feel. The water would be warm and there would be good smelling soap and clean towels when he dragged himself out. Linden would likely let him wash the dirty sheets instead of sleeping on them. It wasn’t as bad.
But all the reasoning in the world couldn’t change that his hands were shaking when he unlocked the door, and when he laid face down obediently on the bed, he had tears in his eyes. Please, let it be quick.
The door opened, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Linden step in. Alone.
He wanted them to get it over with.
“Col, what Vik said- He didn’t- It isn’t-“ Linden couldn’t find the words to explain, he couldn’t force them out in the right order. He had to get this right. Col already was going to be difficult to reach, fear always did that, but he hadn’t caught it fast enough.
Col was just, laying there. Waiting.
He had his arms up over his head, trembling fingers interlocked, his face tucked into the side of his arm.
“I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t think of how to explain, but he had to apologize first.
Col sat up onto his knees, his hands curled into fists by his sides, tears streaming down his pale cheeks.
“You promised.” He tried to sound calm, not accusing or whiny or angry, but it was impossible. “You p-promised so many times, and you said it wouldn’t happen. You promised…”
He caught himself, shoving down the last bit of that ancient rebellion. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you can do it, I’m sorry. I’ll hold still, I’ll be quiet. I- I want you to use me sir.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, and he was already half gagging at the thought.
“No, no you don’t, you don’t want that, I know you don’t. I remember, Col, and I’m keeping that promise,” Linden had tears of his own beginning to fall, “No one will ever do that again, I swear. I’m keeping my promise.”
“I know you don’t.”
Col could have collapsed in relief. He knew he didn’t, he knew him.
The betrayal in Col’s voice had stabbed him through the heart. How could he have let this happen, how could he have been so thoughtless? And he had switched so suddenly, back to the terrified boy he had been when they first met… He had let him down so many times…
He got down on his knees at the foot of the bed, looking up at where Col still knelt, his hands coming forward in front of him almost like in prayer.
“You never have to worry about that ever again. No one will hurt you ever again, I would die before I let that happen.” He wishes Col could believe him, just like that, but it didn’t work that way.
“Not even Vik?”
“Especially not Vik. He would never, and if he did,” he swallowed, knowing that Vik would agree wholeheartedly with his next words, “If he ever tried to do anything close, I would kill him.”
Sometimes he made jokes like that. But this wasn’t a joke. He meant it. If Vik tried-if he even got close- But Vik was his brother, he loved him…
Col paused, trying to understand. Trying to make sense of everything.
“Why did he call me that?”
“It means something else, it’s like a-“ Linden fumbled for the words, cursing the very existence of fuckboys, “Someone who dances with a lot of people. They aren’t forced into anything. They’re just party guys.”
He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to explain that for most people, sleeping together was fun, or at worst disappointing. He didn’t know if Col had ever had any other experience besides…that.
“I don’t have to?” He just had to be sure, had to ask again.
“Right. You never do. No one will hurt you. Not me, not Vik, not anyone else.”
Col swallows, hard, and takes a deep breath. Slowly, his heart was beginning to settle, fear giving way to relief.
It was just a miscommunication.
Only when the fear eased did the shame fully sink in. He’d promised time after time and yet he still didn’t believe him. He did nothing but accused not only his master, but his masters brother as well. Ungrateful spoiled insolent useless idiot. Accusing your master of things that he has the right to do either way.
“I’m sorry sir, for accusing you. Please, please punish me for my arrogance.”
“Col,” Linden sighed, standing up, “Look at me sweet.”
He obeyed, forcing his eyes up to meet Lindens. His eyes were such a lovely shade of green, and he was always reminded of this at the most heartbreaking moments.
“I can’t lie and say that I understand. I don’t, because I have never been though the terrible things that you have. But I’m no fool. You were being smart, and trying to protect yourself. I’ll never punish you for that. I’m proud of you.”
Proud of him?
He couldn’t help the rush of happiness that always followed such praise, even if it was undeserved.
“Thank you sir.”
“Now, do you want to head back out to the living room? Or do you want some time alone? I can have Vik pack up early, he’s sorry for scaring you as well.”
“I don’t have wants, sir. I will go where you want me.” Col said dutifully.
“It’s not a trick, it’s truly up to you. Would you feel safer in the living room, or in here?”
Col’s eyes flicked back and forth, seeming to try to find the “right” answer. “In here, please sir.”
“Alright. I’ll give you some time to rest and relax, you are allowed to come out whenever, and if you need anything, just call for me.”
“Yes sir.”
And then he was gone.
And Col was alone. Safe.
His head was still reeling at all the revaluations he was facing.
Master would never use him.
He would never let anyone else.
He didn’t punish him for accusing him yet again of such a thing.
And he would kill even his own brother if he got even close.
The thought that someone, much less his master, would kill for him, was something he struggled to wrap his head around.
He never wanted harm to fall on Master or his brother. But he would be lying if he didn’t feel a sick sort of relief in knowing that Master would go so far for his undeserving pet.
#linden and col fanfic#yet again#love them#whump#caretaker#whumpee#threats#tw noncon#tw choking#tw murder threats#nsft
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When Alex said “These things—big events, letting other people feed on his own energy—are rarely too much for Alex. He’s not sure how Henry feels, but some part of his brain that is likely soaked in tequila thinks maybe it would be helpful if Henry could take what he can handle, and Alex could handle the rest. Maybe he can absorb some of the “much” from the place where their shoulders are pressed together.”
And when he said “But beneath it all, there’s the Prince of England kissing him under a linden tree in the garden, moonlight in his hair, and Alex’s insides feel positively molten”
And when he said “But Alex is the golden boy. The heartthrob, the handsome rogue with a heart of gold. The guy who moves through life effortlessly, who makes everyone laugh. Highest approval ratings of the entire First Family. The whole point of him is that his appeal is as universal as possible.
Being ... whatever he’s starting to suspect he might be, is definitely not universally appealing to voters.”
And when he said “But he thinks about Henry, and, oh.
He thinks about Henry, and something twists in his chest, like a stretch he’s been avoiding for too long.”
And when he said “But Nora makes friends, and Alex ends up with acquaintances who think they know him because they’ve read his profile in New York magazine, and perfectly fine people with perfectly fine bodies who want to take him home from the bar. None of it is satisfying—it never has been, not really, but it never mattered as much as it does now that there’s the sharp counterpoint of Henry, who knows him. Henry who’s seen him in glasses and tolerates him at his most annoying and still kissed him like he wanted him, singularly, not the idea of him.
So it goes, and Henry is there, in his head and his lecture notes and his cubicle, every single stupid day, no matter how many shots of espresso he puts in his coffee.”
And when he said “He looks like something soft and downy Alex wants to sink into, and he realizes the knot of anxiety in his chest has finally slackened.
It’s rare anyone other than June goes out of their way to check on him. It’s by his own design, mostly, a barricade of charm and fitful monologues and hard-headed independence. Henry looks at him like he’s not fooled by any of it.”
and when he said “If Alex’s head is a storm, Henry is the place lightning hits ground.”
and when he said “History, huh? Bet we could make some.”
and when he said “I do think I got a gut feeling with you, I just didn’t have what I needed in my head to understand it. But I kind of kept chasing it anyway, like I was just going blindly in a certain direction and hoping for the best. I guess that makes you the North Star?”
and when he said “And he does understand, really. He loves Henry, and it’s nothing new. He’s been falling in love with Henry for years, probably since he first saw him in glossy print on the pages of J14, almost definitely since Henry pinned Alex to the floor of a medical supply closet and told him to shut the hell up. That long. That much.”
and when he said “He leans back against the bow and watches, and it’s so easy to imagine it: a future Henry who comes to the lake house with him every summer, who learns how to make elotes and ties neat cleat hitches and fits right into place in his weird family.”
and when he said “He thinks about roots, about first and second languages. What he wanted when he was a kid and what he wants now and where those things overlap. Maybe that place, the meeting of the two, is here somewhere, in the gentle insistence of the water around his legs, crude letters carved with an old pocket knife. The steady thrum of another person’s pulse against his.”
and when he said “Henry laughs again, wetly, his eyes crinkling up in the corners, and Alex feels his heart lift into his throat, up to the embellished ceilings, pushing out to fill the whole room all the way to the glinting gold ring still sitting above the fireplace.”
and when he said “and he reaches out to touch his face and looks at his fingers and thinks about holding the Bible at his mother’s inauguration with the same hand.”
and when he said “When they kiss, Alex can hear a half-remembered old proverb from catechism, mixed up between translations of the book: “Come, hijo mío, de la miel, porque es buena, and the honeycomb, sweet to thy taste.” He wonders what Santa Chiara would think of them, a lost David and Jonathan, turning slowly on the spot.
He brings Henry’s hand to his mouth and kisses the little knob of his knuckle, the skin over the blue vein there, bloodlines, pulses, the old blood kept in perpetuity within these walls, and he thinks, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, amen.”
and when he said “two homes side by side.”
and when he said “Have been home for three hours. Already miss you. This is some bullshit.”
and when he said “Hey, have I told you lately that you’re brave?”
and when he said “I can’t decide if your emails make me miss you more or less. Sometimes I feel like a funny-looking rock in the middle of the most beautiful clear ocean when I read the kinds of things you write to me. You love so much bigger than yourself, bigger than everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to even witness it—to be the one who gets to have it, and so much of it, is beyond luck and feels like fate. Catholic God made me to be the person you write those things about. I’ll say five Hail Marys. Muchas gracias, Santa Maria.”
and when he said “AN INCOMPLETE LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES”
and when he said “If he could love her like people wanted him to, and she loved him, and there wasn’t any more to it than that.
But she doesn’t, and he can’t, and his heart is on a plane over the Atlantic right now”
and when he said “Henry’s looking back at him, beautiful and vital and heartsick and still, always, the person Alex is willing to risk ruining his life for.”
and when he said “You and me and history, remember? We’re just gonna fucking fight. Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. So, I promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.”
and when he said “He wants to set himself on fire, but he can’t afford for anyone to see him burn.”
and when he said “Sería una mentira, porque no sería él.”
and when he said “but i’ve kissed your mouth, that corner, that place it goes, so many times now. i’ve memorized it. topography on the map of you, a world i’m still charting. i know it. i added it to the key. here: inches to miles. i can multiply it out, read your latitude and longitude. recite your coordinates like la rosaria.
this thing, your mouth, its place. it’s what you do when you’re trying not to give yourself away. not in the way that you do all the time, those empty, greedy grabs for you. i mean the truth of you. the weird, perfect shape of your heart. the one on the outside of your chest.
on the map of you, my fingers can always find the green hills, wales. cool waters and a shore of white chalk. the ancient part of you carved out of stone in a prayerful circle, sacrosanct. your spine’s a ridge i’d die climbing.
if i could spread it out on my desk, i’d find the corner of your mouth where it pinches with my fingers, and i’d smooth it away and you’d be marked with the names of saints like all the old maps. i get the nomenclature now—saints’ names belong to miracles.
give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there’s so much of you.”
and when he said—
#alex my beloved#rwrb#red white and royal blue#firstprince#casey mcquiston#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#red white & royal blue#lgbt
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Lunchbreak
A smutty interlude with our favourite tall, quirky vegetarian detective.
Words: 1600 ~ Pairing: Stephen Holder x fem!reader ~ Warnings: PinV sex,swears. Thankyou to my babe @loverhymeswith for looking this over to check Holder’s voice was good!
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Stephen left this morning without waking you.
You find a note by the coffee machine, where an empty cup waits with a spoon and the little shaker of sweetener.
Morning babe. Sorry for leaving early. Linden called.
He knows he should wake you and kiss you goodbye. He usually always does. But the sergeant’s exam that’s coming up has rattled him. Everyone thinks he can do it. Linden told you last week over drinks that she thinks he has it in the bag.
But Stephen doesn’t take anything for granted. Not his job, not his sister’s love, not you. He’s never had anything in his life that he didn’t have to fight for, and he’s always wondering if maybe he’ll lose it if he grips too hard. Or worse, not hard enough.
You send him a text, make your coffee, dress. Afterwards, he still hasn’t replied. You have a day off today, so, you think, you’ll go down to the station. If he isn’t there, you can leave his favourite sandwich in his office for him to eat later. He sometimes forgets to eat when he’s working a case.
You’ve made the sandwich - plant-based bacon with lettuce and fat slices of beef tomato, - and you’re about to get in the car when he replies to your text.
Hey, mamacita. Caught a hot one. Linden chasing up leads. I’m on paperwork duty.
He should be alone. Perfect, you think.
You’ve hardly seen each other these past few weeks, which is why you’re so needled by him leaving without waking you. You want at least that small contact, the brush of his scruffy jaw over your cheek, the light in his eyes when he wishes you good morning, the rasp of his voice after slumber.
In twenty minutes you park on a street near the police station. When you reach the front desk, Logan, the cop on duty recognises you and waves hand in greeting. She’s typing something furiously but she calls your name with a smile. “Here to see Holder?”
You lift the bag. “Got lunch.”
Logan grins. “Half the cops here’d kill to have lunch brought to them, you know? Come on in.” She buzzes the gate open and you stroll into the station, thanking her as you pass.
It’s easy to navigate the corridors. You’ve been here a couple of times, once to drop off a file Stephen left at home, the second time for a small leaving party for an older Detective.
You find the office Stephen and Linden share without incident, and hesitate before standing up on your toes to peek through the window. What you see seals your decision - you’re going in.
Stephen is slumped forward on the desk, his forehead resting on his folded arms. The line of his shoulders is stiff in his white shirt.
You knock on the door. After a second you hear the shuffle of papers and then Stephen drawling, “Yo,it’s open.”
You turn the handle and shut the door behind you, flicking the lock before your boyfriend looks up. When he does, surprise parades over his face. “Baby! What’cha doin’ here?” He stands up and embraces you, and the trickle of uncertainty you felt about coming to see him at work disappears.
You hug him back, press your face into his chest, feel his heart beating under your ear, breathe in his scent, cheap pine showergel, the ghost of cigarettes and terrible coffee. “You didn’t wake me when you left.”
His face falls. “I’m sorry. You looked like you were havin’ a helluva nice dream.”
You walk your fingers up his chest. “Would have preferred to be awake with you than dreaming about just about anything.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He drops a kiss on your forehead.
You lift the bag. “Brought you lunch.”
His eyes go wide for a second. “You came here to bring me lunch? Damn, girl. You are so out of my league that I can’t even see the league you’re in from here.”
Sweet, sweet man. You shake your head, and tug his face down so you can kiss him. “I’m where I want to be.”
Stephen takes the bag and sets it on his desk, gently, like it was a twenty-dollar lobster and not a sandwich that you made in 90 seconds. “I’ve been out of it lately, baby. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
“I know you will. Starting now.” You pull him into you, and he isn’t expecting it, and he stumbles forward. He puts his arms out to keep from crushing you between him and the wall, and he’s caged you in. Exactly as you intended. You stretch up on your toes and kiss him, using his loosened tie to tug his mouth down to meet yours.
“Hmmpf-” he begins, but it’s been so long since he’s been this close to you for anything other than exhausted sleep, and his body wakes up immediately. His muffled words turn into a groan and his hips cant into yours and he’s so hard already, and you thread your fingers through his hair.
“Stephen.”
He breaks the kiss with what is clearly enormous effort. His brow furrows. “Fuck, baby. I’m at work.”
“I locked the door. Can’t see in from the window if we’re tucked behind the filing cabinet like this.”
He swears, and leans his forehead against yours. “Try’na kill me, mamacita?” He sighs, bites his lip, and that little move is sexy as hell. “You want this?”
“Oh my God, I want this,” you assert in a whisper.
“We gotta be quick.” His hands are already working at his belt buckle and your inner muscles clench at the sound of the metal and leather, a pavlovian response. He sees your gaze flick down his body and his breath shudders out. “I swear to you, I’m gonna make more time for us when this fuckin’ case is closed. I swear it, baby.”
You cup his face and answer him with a kiss, your own hands working to pull up the skirt of your dress. You came commando to make this easier. Stephen slides a hand down your body and his brow arches when he finds you wet and naked.
“Planned this, I see?” he teases. “Guess I must’a dialled 1-900 without realisin’.”
You smile against his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m always on call for you. Only for you, Stephen.”
“I’m one lucky son of a bitch,” he muses, drawing quick circles around your clit, knowing how to get you from zero to sixty in no time at all. With his other hand he’s freed himself, and your gaze drops to him, hard and hot and ready, and your mouth goes dry with want. You clench, wanting him inside you already.
“Please,” you whisper.
“Hold on, baby.” He settles one big hand under your ass and lifts you up, pinning you to the wall with his lean, long body. You wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the bite of his Detective’s shield in the naked flesh of your thigh, and the tiny hurt grounds you to the moment.
You reach down, wrap your fingers around him. “Oh my God, now, now.”
He slides inside you, balls deep in a single thrust, and slams his mouth to yours to keep from making noise. You manage to stay like that, completely silent, as he makes urgent love to you against the cold, soulless wall of the small office. You curl your hands into the muscle of his shoulders and trace the end of his cross tattoo with the tip of your index finger. He shivers at that, like he always does, and you sink deeper into his kiss, and think that you’ll never get enough of him as long as you live.
“Fuck, baby. Gonna come,” he breathes, his voice an octave lower than normal, intense and private, and you free one hand to press down on your clit, seeing stars behind your closed lids as your muscles spasm around Stephen’s cock. Your orgasm sets off his own, and his hips stutter as he thrusts sharply, once, then again, emptying into you, his big body trembling with the aftershocks of sex combined with the effort of holding you against him.
“Oh my God,” you whisper as he sets you down, as gentle as if you were made of china, and smoothes your dress for you.
“Good as new,” he approves, before tucking his softening cock away behind plaid boxers and his suit trousers. “That was… unexpected.”
You laugh nervously. “Wasn’t sure if I’d go through with it. I just needed you.”
Love makes his gaze soft when he cups your chin. “I needed it, too. I love you, y’know that, right? Need you to know.”
“I know.” You give him one more quick kiss and tuck his shirt in. “I’ll see you at home, okay? It’s my night off. Might cook your favourite.”
“Yeah?” He grins, quick and deadly, and his face is transformed from handsome to breath-stealing. “A’ight, then, I’d better nail this paperwork so I can get home to you for dinner and dessert.” He wiggles his brows.
You laugh. “I look forward to it.”
He unlocks the door, but not before he pulls you back for a quick, fierce kiss. The kind of kiss you’ll be remembering all day. You allow yourself to sink into it for a heartbeat before you let him go.
All the way home you feel the imprint of his badge on your inner thigh, and it makes you grin until dinner time.
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People who might like this: @babblydrabbly @lacontroller1991 who asked for smutty times, @a-reader-and-a-writer @heresathreebee @klmurr @charnelhouse @just-here-for-the-moment @ithinkwehitametaphor @knittingqueen13
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⭐ Caring Hurts ⭐
Stephen Holder x Reader
On the first of each month, each member of GFS will write a Drabble of 1k words or less based on a selected prompt using a character played by Joel Kinnaman.
April 2022's Prompt is: "Why are you avoiding me?" "Because...Because I think I'm falling in love with you, okay? That's why I'm avoiding you."
warnings: bad language, guns, mentions of blood, light angst, hurt/comfort
word count: 1k
Reader's P.O.V
Before today I thought that working at SPD was quiet, not being part of homicide but part of the department's tactical force, working more on action but never something so difficult, other than arresting drug dealers or thieves.I had never shot someone before, pointing the gun to show that I had the power in the situation and managed to make the subject give up any foolishness. But now I was feeling adrenaline, anger, fear and many more feelings that I couldn't identify. As the leader of the tactical force I would have to keep the situation under control, make the right decision and be careful with any movement.
At the beginning of the day everything was going well, we were in the office organizing our plan to catch a murder suspect with the help and information that Linden and Holder had. I went out to get lunch, I took the opportunity to buy Stephen something vegetarian even though I knew this was just another one of his quirks, but as soon as I entered the department again everyone had distressed looks on their faces and they turned to me.
"What's happening, guys? Why do y'all look like that?" I asked putting the food on a table.
"We are waiting for your orders, captain!" one of the cops said.
"Y/N, the suspect has Stephen and he wants to make a deal" Linden told me and put her hand on my shoulder trying to make me calm down.
"How do you know this is true? The suspect contacted you?" I was already nervous but tried to maintain my posture.
"Yes, he contacted us with Holder's phone" Another cop informed me then we started to get our things and make a plan to take Stephen without any collateral damage.
Back to the present moment, surrounding the subject as he put the rod to his gun against Stephen's head while screaming, wanting a deal so as not to be arrested.
"Put the gun down, sir and we can talk" I say trying to sound as calm as possible.
"You don't have the power to say what I should do!" He yelled back, pressing the gun against Holder's temple.
"She has more power than you think, asshole" Stephen said but got hit by the end of the gun making him groan.
"Calm down, sir! He is a cop too, hurt him or whatever and you will never see the light again." I said calmly, still holding my gun prepared for anything.
"I want to get out of here with protection and not be arrested!"
"Just in your dreams, playboy" Holder said again and I was getting more nervous.
"Shut up! I'm the one pointing a gun to your head!" The subject screamed, hitting him again.
"Hey! Hit him again and you're not going to step out of here alive! Just put your gun down and we are going to make the deal" I said more seriously and with authority.
The suspect stepped away from Stephen, letting go of him and letting him walk towards one of the police cars that were there, but the moment he saw one of the policemen take out a handcuff to arrest him was enough for him to raise the gun again to my partner. One shot, just one shot, was enough for the next moment the guy was dead with a hole in the middle of his forehead and I was holding my gun so tight that it could crumble in my grip.
I put the gun back in its holster, running to Stephen who had been hit by the bullet in the shoulder. He seemed fine despite the situation but I couldn't be more nervous. I applied pressure to the spot to avoid bleeding, with my hands trembling and fighting the tears that formed in my eyes, then Holder held my waist with a worried look.
"Calm down, mama! I'm still in one piece for ya" His lazy voice ringing in my ears just makes me gulp holding the tears.
"You are a fucking idiot!" I turn away from him just as the paramedics approach.
Stephen calls out my name, but I just make my way back to the car and drive to the police department. I would have to deal with a lot of paperwork after today, give my statement about what happened and write it up explaining why there was the shooting that caused the suspect's death, this was the part that everyone hated about the job, but this might calm me down.
Weeks passed, my report was still half finished and I had not exchanged a word with Holder after that day. Every time he walks into the same room as me, I just make up some excuse to get out and it worked, until he started asking Linden to come and ask me what he had done wrong. I didn't have an answer, the pain I felt at the moment I shot the guy, was not for shooting someone for the first time but for almost losing Stephen.
"AYO! Stop right there, mama!" Thinking about him, I knew it would last long in my attempt to avoid him.
"Holder-" I started saying but he cut me pointing his finger to my face.
"Don't you dare give me another shitty excuse, girl" He said slowly but then forced a cough trying to disguise his anger. "Why are you avoiding me? I did nothing wrong, woman" Holder exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.
"Because-" I took a deep breath trying to say something but nothing came out and Stephen was staring at me anxious for an answer. "Because I fucking care about you and I may be falling for you! And it hurts to think I can lose you anytime"
"You're- You are into me, mama? So why avoid it?"
"I don't know! Don't make stupid questions, Stephen…"
"You want me to kiss you?" Holder asked with a stupid grin.
"Of course, dummy!"
GFS: @lacontroller1991 @11thstreetvigilante @heresathreebee @fairchildflag @yespolkadotkitty @skvatnavle
#joel kinnaman#stephen holder fanfiction#stephen holder x you#stephen holder x reader#stephen holder#gfs#gfs drabble project#April 2022
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Fresh Squeeze Ch. 13
Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall (You)
Set in 2023, post-pandemic
Warnings: Minors DNI, 18 + ONLY, RPF, drinking, dancing, singing, cursing, lots of plot and fluff and sad with some Smut as well. This has everything. Daddy kink, oral sex (m recieving), cum play, drunken confessions/rambling, Love, y’all.
“As” x Stevie Wonder
Word Count: 5.7 K
Plot: Lindy reacts to her gifts, gets another one from the group, and TURNS UP. They finally get back to NYC and deal with having to be apart (or not).
“Well, what do you think?” Daveed was looking at you expectantly.
“I…….”
You really didn’t know what to say. You were surprised, intrigued, curious, and a little frightened. Your mind was trying to take it all in.
Daveed’s heart dropped as he watched your face. He closed the photo app on his phone.
“It’s cool. It’s a lot to think about...” He could kick himself. He’d gotten carried away and ruined a perfect thing. He wished he could rewind time.
“I, I’ll meet you out at the bar. Go have some fun. We’ll talk later.”
He might as well begin getting wasted for when you ended it between you two. It had been a great day and a half. He turned around and headed for the door.
“Diggs, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
Daveed stopped and turned around, bracing for it. He saw the flash your eyes.
“Look, Linden. I’m sorry. I took it too far. Forget I even showed you that picture.” He leaned on the wall and looked everywhere but at you.
Your heart twisted in your chest. Daveed really did love you. And he was wearing his anxiety all over him. It hurt your heart that he felt that way. It was on you to communicate now.
You approached him slowly and put your hands on his arms as he looked at the floor. You bent your knees to get a glimpse of his eyes and to force him to look at you.
Daveed smiled when he saw you peeking at him. Maybe you weren’t pissed at him.
“I’m so pissed at you,” you breathed.
Oh, well.
“How are you going to lecture me about running away all the time when that’s what you were about to do?”
Daveed opened and closed his mouth. Then he looked at you. You were right.
You slid into his arms and he looked down at you. So fucking beautiful.
“Thank you for my presents, Daveed. I’m not mad that you got them. But you’re right, it is a lot to think about.” You sighed and lay your head on his chest.
“This weekend has been amazing, and I’m happy you got carried away…It means….”
“It means I love you, Lindy.” He kissed the top of your head. “But I get it, you need time to think about… taking that step.”
Daveed realized that you were just nervous.
You bit your lip and nodded. “Yeah.”
Daveed leaned down and kissed your lips. It was slow and sensual.
“Anything I can do to help with your thinking process?”
His lips were at your cheek, moving to your jaw, your earlobe and then your neck. You moaned as he found the spot he’d memorized so quickly, like a verse.
You moaned, heating up again as his hand smoothed your dress over your ass and his fingers reached for the hem. Again.
You felt yourself begin to tumble down the hill of your desire for Daveed, which you tried to snap yourself out of by clearing your throat, to which Daveed smiled at against the skin of your collarbone.
“We should really get back out there.”
You fully expected him to object, but instead he agreed.
“You’re right.” He planted another kiss on your spot. “The crew is working on a gift for you out there.” He nuzzled your neck and then kissed below your earlobe.
“What?” You were curious as to what they were up to. Daveed just stared at you. “W-what do you mean they're working on a present?”
Daveed chuckled and smiled at you, grabbing you by the hand. “I don't know. Let’s go see.”
--------
Craig happened to be passing by when you and Daveed came out of the bathroom. You were caught.
“OOOOOOOOOh. I’m gonna call Monalinda on your ass.” You were swole, and about to cuss Craig out and then instantly deflated.
“Oh shit.” You looked at him. “My mom.”
You dropped Daveed’s hand and dug in your purse for your phone, which you had basically ignored all weekend.
It was lit up with birthday messages, one from Mark, which you deleted, and plenty from other friends and acquaintances on social media.
You looked up at Daveed. “I’m have to call my mom. I’m going to step outside.”
“I’ll go with you.” Craig, your protector.
Daveed didn’t want to let you go, but he didn’t want to crowd you. You went downstairs and out of the door, Craig with you.
You scrolled for the call from your mom, and like clockwork, she’d called at 8:43 am, the time you were born. It was well over 12 hours since she’d called. You cringed and dialed her back.
She picked up immediately.
“Linden? Happy Birthday, Baby.”
“Hey Mama. Thank you. Sorry I missed your call.”
“That’s ok, baby. I figured you’d be busy having fun. Craig watching out for you?”
You laughed and looked over at Craig. “Hey Auntie Mona!” He yelled and all three of you laughed.
“Hey Craig! Take care of Linden for me.”
“Mama, I’m 30 years old now. I can watch out for myself.”
Now she was laughing at you. Sometimes it was like you were her twin, brash and independent.
“Ok, you’re right. Is that Daveed boy there with you? Craig told his father that you had a crush on him.”
“Oh, did he now?” You were gonna tap Craig in his jaw. You made a cutting motion against your throat to him. He just laughed at you and flipped you off.
“Yes, mom, he’s here,” you sighed.
Mona knew that tone. And she laughed at you again.
“Linden, just be open to love, Baby. You deserve it.”
You loved your mom so much, but It was when you were talking to her that you were reminded of Dell. That’s why you tried to avoid it. Because when you thought about Dell, you felt like you didn’t deserve anything.
You thought about how you should be on a three-way call with her and Dell, her wishing you both a happy birthday.
“Mama…. I’m sorry. I…”
“Linden. Stop it. Just stop it. It wasn’t your fault. You can’t live your life blaming yourself. He’d want you to move on. And he’d be so proud of you now. I’m so proud of you.”
“I love you Mama.” You smiled through your tears.
“I love you too, Baby. Now get off the phone with me and go have some fun with that tall, fine man. And tell me all about him when you get back, maybe bring him to meet me if you realize you should snag him. Have a safe flight.”
You laughed at her read. “Ok, Mama. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Lindy.”
You took out your phone and scrolled through your pictures of Dell. You picked one and made your annual post for your birthdays. Craig moved toward you and took you in his arms.
“You okay, cousin?”
You looked up at him, and the tears came harder because he was crying too. He was the only one who missed Dell almost as much as you. Except your mom, who probably missed him more. You hugged Craig and let yourself cry.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine after I kick your ass for telling Uncle Lindron about Daveed. You know he and Mona talk every day.” You started to walk back into the club, where Daveed was watching for you to return.
“Lindy, this ain’t Jersey, and I’m not one of those little hoodrats you used to fight all the time. I’ll fuck you up, just like I did in the 7th grade.”
“Shut up, Craig!” you laughed and pushed him, lightening up a little, especially when you saw Daveed’s concerned look as he came for you.
“You okay?” You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I’m good.”
Craig and Daveed led you to where Rafael, Anthony, and Jasmine were standing. Daveed planted you on the stool and looked you in the eyes.
“Stay here.”
“OK?” You looked around to see everyone smiling at you. Rafa winked as Daveed approached a mic stand. You got a feeling of dread in your stomach.
Oh no-
Daveed looked at you as the crew gathered around.
“Hey everybody. This is Lindy.” He held his hand out to you. “And it’s Lindy’s birthday today. And I bet she thinks we’re about to embarrass her and have you sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.” He looked over to you. “But she’d be wrong.”
You breathed a sigh of relief.
“We were wondering what to give the woman who has everything.”
You called out to him. “Are you included in ‘everything?’”
“You are correct, madam.” Daveed smirked in response. You shook your head as everyone laughed.
“But we decided to use what we have and that is talent. And we picked a song to perform that her cousin Craig said was a family favorite and is really really true for all of us, especially me.
We’re going to perform a song that lets you know that you got new family members for life.”
Rafa cued the DJ to start the track. As you heard the opening cords, you brought your hands to your mouth, emotional.
Jasmine was first up.
As around the sun the earth knows she's revolving/ And the rosebuds know to bloom in early May/ just as hate knows loves the cure/ You can rest your mind assured/ That I'll be loving you always/ As now can't reveal the mystery of tomorrow/ But in passing will grow older every day/ Just as all is born is new/ Do know what I say is true/That I'll be loving you always
Jasmine came over and gave you a hug as she sung the last line.
Everyone started dancing this choreographed routine of 70’s dance moves, the hustle, the hand jive, and the bump during the refrain as they sang. Even Craig joined in the chorus.
Anthony sang next.
Did you know that true love asks for nothing./ Her acceptance is the way we pay Did you know that life has given love a guarantee/ To last through forever and another day/ Just as time knew to move on since the beginning/ And the seasons know exactly when to change/ Just as kindness knows no shame/ Know through all your joy and pain/ That I'll be loving you always
Ant handed Rafael the mic next.
As today I know I'm living but tomorrow/ Could make me the past but that I mustn't fear/ For I'll know deep in my mind/ The love of me I've left behind/ Cause I'll be loving you always
More dancing, and you had to get up out of your seat.
Daveed had the bridge:
We all know sometimes life's hates and troubles/ Can make you wish you were born in another time and space/ …...And maybe our children's grandchildren/ And their great-great grandchildren will tell/ I'll be loving you
Everyone in the club joined in the chorus by the end, including you. It went on and on and was the best time you’d had on your birthday in a long time.
You ended up in Daveed’s arms with everyone dancing around you. It was big love and it was perfect.
You danced and drank shots until you were exhausted and wasted. You and everybody sang all the way back to the beach house, and Daveed had to practically carry you in when you arrived.
---------------
“THAT WAS THE BEST BIRTHDAY OF ALLL TIMEEEEEE!” You looked around the great room of the beach house and saw everyone staring at you.
“YOU’RE SO LOUD! BE QUIET! SHHHHHHH!”
“That’s you. You’re yelling Lindy.” Daveed was cracking up at you.
Jasmine and Anthony laughed at you on the way to the master suite.
“G’night mom and dad!” You waved at them as they retired for the night.
“Are you going to flog me, General?”
You heard Jasmine say, “Oh my god, she’s wasted,” as she and Anthony went in their room. Anthony replied. “Oh, fo sho.”
Daveed chuckled and shook his head as he led you into your room.
“General, hunh? No, I’m not going to flog you. I’m gonna put your ass to bed.”
You sat down on the bed and looked up at him adoringly.
“You know, I went with ‘he who must not be named’ to see Hamilton in 2015. When I saw you in that uniformmmmmmmmmm….”
You shook your head and closed your eyes, remembering. ”I had a flash of a thought to run up on stage and suck your soul out.”
Daveed smiled his shy smile again, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, I’m fangirling right now. But sign my tits.” You tried to pull the collar of your dress down, and when it wouldn’t stretch, you started fighting with it, trying to get it off.
“Easy, easy.” Daveed was highly amused. He helped you to stand up so you could get out of your clothes.
He looked down and stroked your cleavage. “I already marked them up good. And when those fade I’m coming back for more.”
He leaned down and kissed the tops of each breast and then stopped himself to help you out of the dress. Now was not the time to start something.
“Oh shit, Daveed.” You squirmed. “You got me wet. Damn, boy. You keep me wet.”
You started singing WAP as you twerked in front of him. Daveed was enjoying seeing the carefree side of you. You could be so free and he was glad that tonight got you there.
You flopped back down on the bed. “Damn, I would let you fuck me in that uniform tho. A dream. And that sword? The hilt of that mutha fucking sword. Fuck. Do you still have it? I mean...”
You opened your legs and ran your hands up your thighs.
Daveed grabbed them and pulled you back up so that he could slip your dress off. You were out of your mind, but you still got him there.
He’d have to see what he could do about that costume when you were sober. He wanted to fulfill your every fantasy, and he hoped that you would let him.
When you came out from under your dress you looked about to cry. He frowned a bit.
“What happened?” When you looked up at him with your drunk, teary eyes, he remembered. Tequila.
“I don’t deserve you. You’re so fucking sweet. And nerdy, and cute, and so fucking talented. I mean you’re such a great actor, and writer, and rapper, and you can rap so fast, I mean damn that tongue.”
You opened your eyes wide. “Is that why you’re so good at head?” You covered your mouth at the realization and started crying harder. “I don’t deserve you!” Daveed helped you as you cried, and he tried to get you in the bed.
“Yes, you do Lindy. We all deserve love. Now calm down. It’s ok. We can talk about it in the morning.”
You stopped and stood still, adamant, naked for Daveed to take in and save for later. “You wanna know a secret?” You looked around the room to see if anyone was listening, even though you were alone with Daveed. “I forgot what I was talking about.”
Daveed laughed and went into the bathroom to get one of your makeup wipes. When he handed it to you is when you started crying again.
“No one ever wanted me to take off my makeup before...no one cared about my skin… and no one sang to me in Puerto Rico...”
You were still crying as you wiped the tears and makeup away. “Tell me why you love me in the morning.”
“I will. Lay down and I’ll get you some water.” Daveed got you under the covers and tucked you in.
“It’s gonna be hard when we get back to New York, cause I’m a bitch in New York. In Isabella I’m a queen…”
“Yes you are. You’re MY queen. Anywhere you go. You’re not gonna get rid of me in New York. Now try to center yourself and calm down okay?” You smiled weakly up at him and nodded, holding your arms out to him.
Daveed hugged you, kissed your forehead and then went to the kitchen to get some bottles of water. Rafa was in there, eating cereal and on his phone.
“Ya girl is wasted.”
“Yeah, she’s gone, man gone.” Daveed smiled. “Thanks for tonight, man. The arrangement was tight.”
“No problem at all. We all really love Lindy. She’s special, man.”
Daveed smiled as he gathered about four bottles of water and set them on the counter. He had a faraway look. Rafa could read him like a book.
“Oh shit, Diggs.”
Daveed looked at him.
“Yeah, this is it.” He’d made a decision.
“Happy for you, man.”
Daveed gave Rafa a smile and elbow dap as he went back to your room.
You were singing “As” and smiling when he returned. “I’m tore up. Sorry.”
Daveed blinded you with his smile. “No worries, Baby Girl. Here, drink this. It will go better when you wake up if you do.”
You returned his smile and drank the entire bottle of water. It helped clear your head a bit and the exhaustion got to you. Your eyes were drawn to him like a magnet as he headed toward the shower and took off his shirt. Damn, why did his back get you hot?
“I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”
Daveed smiled back at you. “Get some rest Lindy. I know we’re leaving Isabela tomorrow, but we have time to spend together beyond that. I’m not going anywhere, Baby Girl.”
You smiled and nodded, hazily realizing something and resolving to stay up before you knocked out into a deep sleep.
-----
Daveed had stayed up a little while longer than you and wrote some things, editing a verse for a track that he and Rafael were producing and also adding to his Linden notes. Then, he took you into his arms and fell asleep.
He wondered how he would do it without you in New York, or how he would go back to the West Coast without you. He was thinking about the same things you were, but he was more confident that you two would find a way.
The Monday morning sun greeted him and he rolled over to see that it was 10 am. The flight back to New York left at 3 pm. Just a couple of hours before everyone needed to head to the airport.
You were still knocked out, snoring a little, but so adorably. He kissed your forehead and got out of bed with a bottle of water, padding to his room.
He marveled at the fact that he’d spent very little time there this weekend. It was basically a glorified closet and he was glad for it.
He was grateful to Jasmine and Anthony who offered to plan this weekend for you. They knew that you and he together on a tropical island would do the trick.
He shook his head that it actually worked as he put on his running shoes and shorts and packing up a little before he went running.
Daveed sent you a text before he got started, then headed west on the beach and did a lot of thinking, planning how to soothe the fears that you’d expressed last night.
----
You woke up 20 minutes after Daveed left with only a slight headache and fuzzy memories of the night before. You instantly missed Daveed and grabbed your phone.
Good morning my Queen. Going running. Be back soon. Love you.
You smiled like a schoolgirl at your phone, and your heart immediately lifted. You lay back on your pillow and thought of how lucky you were.
Then, memories of your drunken ramblings came back and you buried your head under your pillow.
You hopped in the shower and tried to forget what you’d said, hoping that Daveed did too. It was the first time in a minute you gotten to shower alone, so you took your time.
When you came out in your towel, your hair wet and conditioned, you met Daveed who was trying to sneak back in and see you wake up.
Seeing you all wet and sexy in just a towel did something to Daveed. You were surprised, your mouth in that sexy o shape, just like in the fitting room of H & M.
“Hey.” Daveed smiled at you.
“Hey yourself.”
You smiled back and shifted your weight as water droplets tumbled down your shoulders into the valley between your breasts. Daveed couldn’t help but stare. “How was your run?”
“Damn.” Daveed realized too late that you had asked him a question. “I mean…” he chuckled. “It was good.” He noticed you eying him and realized that he was all sweaty.
‘Damn’ is right you thought, the sweat was running down Daveed’s torso like the water from your shower. He smelled like his cologne mixed with the sea air and more musk. You needed that. Right now.
“I’m all sweaty, can I borrow your shower?”
You walked nearer to him, stopping behind him him in front of the bed. “No.”
Daveed turned his head to question you. “No? You mean I can’t borrow your shower? You want me to go back to my…”
“No.” You traced your finger in the sweat on his lat muscle and then put it in your mouth.
“I don’t want you to use my shower, and I don’t want you to go back to yours. At least not right now.”
Daveed turned around and faced you and when he did, you dropped your towel on the bed. His eyes went where you wanted them to.
“I want to lick the sweat off your abs, your dick and your balls before you do that.”
“Holy shit, Lindy.” Daveed groaned, grabbed you by the throat and pulled you in for a kiss. “You’re so fucking nasty.” He kissed you as his cock swelled. “I love it. I love you.”
You sat on the bed and pulled him toward you, getting started on your mission. You put your tongue in the happy trail of black hair below his navel, flat and wide, and licked a long stripe up and around his belly button.
The tangy essence of his perspiration contained some kind of aphrodisiac, because you went crazy and would have licked him clean if he hadn’t stopped you to take off his running shorts and shoes.
You watched his dick, thick from desire, spring free and slap his stomach. You immediately grabbed for it and Daveed stepped out of your reach. You looked up at him, and he returned your gaze.
Unspoken communication flowed that this was going to be as equals. You grabbed for it again and he stepped closer, allowing you to palm him as you licked and sucked his sack.
He leaned his head back in ecstasy as you took care of the boys and jacked him off. Then he looked down at you and you kept eye contact as you licked the tip of his dick, circled it with your tongue and then opened your mouth and deep throated it like a champ.
“Fuuuuuuucckkkkk, Lindy.” Daveed reached for your breasts and squeezed them, pinching and rolling your nipples. You arched your back, and your ass looked amazing on the bed. Daveed needed to hit that.
He pulsed at the thought of breaking your back and realized that he was buried deep in your throat at the moment. His eyes came back to yours, which were watering with the effort to breathe around him.
He didn’t hold you there, but you kept your nose nestled in the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. Damn. He wanted to be both places at once.
He brought his hand up to your wet hair, gently massaging your scalp as you did what you wanted with him. He had the irrational desire to tattoo your name on it, because nothing would ever compare to you.
You came off of him, sputtering and gasping for breath, a proud smile on your face. Daveed smiled down at you and wiped your mouth with his hand as you smiled back up at him. He leaned down and gave you a filthy kiss.
“I want you to pound me from behind.” Your voice was a sexy whisper, making tingles go up his spine.
“Just what I was thinking. We’re made for each other, Lindy.” He kissed you again.
You quickly pulled away and got on the bed on all fours, ass presented to Daveed. He just stood there admiring you as he stroked himself for a minute.
He was trying to meditate, pray, something, because what you’d already done to him and just looking at you was going to make him bust.
You looked back at him, and bit your lip, watching him. Then, you brought your hand up to your mouth, licked your fingers, and brought it down to start steady, tight circles on your clit, arching your back and giving him a good view of exactly what was happening.
“Shit.”
Daveed grabbed your hip and lined up with your cunt, feeling with his tip that you were fluttering around nothing but that. He whined in the back of this throat as he made himself sink into you slowly, your pussy grabbing him with each millimeter. He bottomed out. You were stretched out wonderfully.
“You good? How’s that feel?”
You could only whine. “So good. So, so, so good Daveed. Please.” You were begging, his dick was pulsing. “Please, please, please Daddy.”
Daveed groaned again. “Fuck, yeah. You want it?”
“Yeah!”
He started moving. He thought he was going to pass out it felt so good.
“This shit feels so good, Linden. You need it?”
“Fuck, yeah, Daddy. Oh!” Your arms had collapsed, and your cheek was getting pounded into the mattress as Daveed pistoned into you harder and harder. “Thank you thank you thank you.”
You were so fucking sweet that Daveed was about to paint your insides with his children. But he stopped, causing both of you to curse and pant into the silence.
The throbbing of his dick and the clenching of your pussy pushed him over the edge, making him lose control and start pumping again.
You knew he was trying to hold out and the thought that he couldn’t triggered your orgasm and you came, tears coursing out of your shut eyes as you moaned.
Daveed felt you cum with relief, because he was able to make sure you got yours; watching you cum was magnificent. But now it was his turn
“Where do you want it Linden?”
“On my ass Daddy.” You smiled back at him with glazed over eyes, still lost in sex land.
“Fuck!” He pulled out and fisted his cock, spurting all over your beautiful cheeks as he reached around for your sensitive clit.
He relentlessly held you fast with his arm as you tried to run from the second orgasm that was triggered by his fingers and the feel of his cum dripping down your folds.
“Shit, Daveed!” He chuckled evilly as you came apart again, leaning down to put his drenched fingers in your mouth. You made eye contact with him as you sucked his cum off them, and he was almost hard again. Damn.
He collapsed on his back and watched as you lay on your stomach and closed your eyes.
“Looks like we both need a shower now…”
You opened your eyes, and his heart clenched. You were so pretty. So purely Linden.
“Damn, I Love you girl.”
“I love you too, Daveed.” You bit your lip at the emotion. “We probably need to shower separately because….. we'll miss our flight.” He knew what you meant.
Daveed frowned. “You’re not wrong, but we can save time and water if we shower together. I promise I won’t try anything but get squeaky clean.” He was not trying to have this togetherness end so soon.
You couldn’t help but smile. You were doomed. You sighed, gave him a peck and made your way to the shower, him hot on your heels.
----
You boarded the flight back to NYC the same way you boarded the 3 and a half hour flight to PR, with you and Daveed running to the gate to board just in time.
You settled into first class, this time eagerly snuggling up to him in the blanket from jump. You were whispering and giggling together. Daveed looked at you and knew what you were thinking.
“Before you say it, let’s wait and join the mile-high club for when we’re not with our friends.” You peeked through the divide in your seats to find Craig and Rafael behind you. Craig stuck his tongue out at you.
“Yeah, you right. I don’t wanna hear it from this crew.”
You cuddled happily, on your phones and taking selfies, posting them separately to IG. Even though you didn’t post the pics of you two together, the fact that Rafael photobombed both of the ones you posted gave the connection away.
When you deboarded at JFK about 8 o’clock, you and Daveed brought up the rear of the group, not walking slowly, not wanting the weekend to end. By the time you got to baggage claim, Rafa and Jas and Ant were walking out to the cars that were waiting for them.
“See you later guys! Thank you again for everything.” You hugged the Martinez coupled as they went back to Brooklyn.
“Catch you tomorrow Cash.” Daveed gave Rafael dap and you gave him a hug as he departed.
Craig was at the baggage carousel, just waiting to order the uber for you and he to go back to his place. You were very quiet, lost in your thoughts.
“.....Rafa and I have a late lunch meeting at 1 tomorrow and then rehearsals start Wednesday through Friday at the new venue. Then we have the weekend off and shows start up again next Tuesday. What does your week look like Lindy?” Daveed wasn’t going to let you slip away from him, physically or mentally.
“Well, I have this Bar exam study session tomorrow afternoon, and I really need to cram for the exam next month. And… oh shit, I have this event for the law firm I’m clerking at in the fall on Saturday. It’s sort of like an introductory mandatory thing. Black tie.”
Daveed looked at you. “So, I guess you already have a date for that.”
You snapped out of your funk and caught the tone. “Yeah, I do.” You fought a smile and Craig started shaking his head as he looked at his phone.
“Oh.” Daveed rocked on his heels and watched for his bag on the carousel.
You tapped his arm and smiled at him, nodding your head toward your cousin. “It’s him.”
Daveed made eye contact with Craig who laughed at him.
“Sounds dope.” He was very relieved.
“Well, about that Lindy…..” Craig had some news. “Brian is coming to visit next weekend. Imma fly my baby out!” He took in your shocked face. “What?”
“Nothing. You grown. And you’re ditching me. That’s always cool.”
Craig shrugged. “What you won’t do for love.”
Daveed agreed. “So it sounds like you need a date.”
You turned back towards him, a smile on your lips.
“Yeah, sounds like it. You think Rafael is free?”
Daveed bent his head and shook it. “What time do I need to pick you up, Linden.”
You perked up at the dom voice, and replied immediately. “8 pm.”
“Done.”
“Perfect, and pack a bag, you can stay with Daveed so Brian and I can have the place to ourselves.”
“What makes you think that I want to stay with him, or if he even wants that? You can’t just…”
Daveed interrupted you. “You’re welcome anytime, Baby Girl.”
You shivered. “Okay…” you almost said, ‘Daddy,’ but you didn’t. Not in front of Craig.
“It’s settled then.” Craig grabbed his bag and you reached for yours, but Daveed grabbed it before you could take it.
You walked out to where you and Craig’s uber waited and the car the Daveed had ordered waited. Daveed loaded your suitcase after Craig put his in the trunk and got in, giving you two some privacy.
“Text me when you get home. I’ll call you later, maybe facetime.” Daveed felt something crazy in his chest at the thought of leaving you.
You nodded and tried to smile up at him, tears pricking your eyes. “I will. I might text you in the uber?” You didn’t want to be away from him yet.
“Yeah, yeah. Do that. I’ll see you in four days.”
“Just four.” You searched his eyes. “Ugh! I love you Daveed.”
“I love you too, Lindy.” You reached up for a kiss and he picked you up to meet him. He put you down and you swallowed the lump in your throat.
“Bye.”
“Bye.” You waved as he walked toward the black SUV. You opened the door and then you saw him look back at you, eyes in full puppy dog mode.
You got in the uber, and Daveed got his bag situated and entered the back of the car. He looked back and saw your uber pull out, his driver waiting for it to pass. Then, he heard a knock on the other window.
The window rolled down and Daveed peered out at you, smiling.
“Did you mean it when you said I was welcome anytime?” Your smile was irresistible.
“Get that ass in this car, Baby Girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
--------
Will Lindy and Daveed ever be able to be apart? Is this a healthy relationship or are they going to fast? Let me know. Please like, comment, and reblog!
Tagging:
@braidedchallah @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @riiyy @lonelydance @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @delaber @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonystan @elocinnicole @anh1020 @curtainremote
#Daveed Diggs#daveed diggs fanfiction#daveed diggs x reader#daveed fic#daveed imagine#daveed diggs x black reader#daveed diggs x oc#daveed diggs imagine#daveed diggs x ofc reader#daveed diggs fluff#daveed diggs smut#daveed x Linden#daveed x lindy#daveed x you#hamilfam#Rafael Casal#jasmine cephas jones#Anthony Ramos#bay boys
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Ring of Fire - Alex Mason X Reader
Mason saves you from an apartment fire. Are you happy? No. But, did you just meet a very attractive man? Yes.
TW: Strong language, fire, eventual fluff!
"Alex Mason! Meet me in my office please!' Is what Mason heard after a long, hard, and hot training.
Mason felt anxiety by the way his drill sergeant spoke to him like that. So, Mason hauled ass to the office, and stood professionally until the drill sergeant finally came in.
"Ma'am" Mason said with confidence, in attention.
"At ease Lieutenant. Now, take a seat. I have something to discuss with you." She said, sitting down and pulling a file out.
Mason took a seat, and watched her pull a thick, yellowish file from her desk. She opened it and layed out several pieces of paper in front of Mason so he could see everything. He took a closer look and saw something for the local fire department, a look of confusion clouded his face.
"Lieutenant Mason, you are being asked to take part in giving a hand to the Fair Banks Fire Department. Their chief has been layed off for a while due to a recent building fire, and they need men. And you just so happen to be the perfect candidate for helping out!" The drill sergeant said, pulling out a cigarette.
Mason was hesitant, he didn't know how to feel. He was afraid that he might fuck up and get someone hurt. Or worse, killed. But, he already worked in that part of the field. One mistake and it means death.
"Drill Sergeant Rivers, I don't have the proper training for this kind of thing. So why am I being picked?" He questioned.
She hit her cigarette and exhaled. She shot a glaring look back at him, while reaching for a pen nearby.
"Mason, they wouldn't just send you in with no training. They are offering on the job skills training and certification. You provide won't even be working there for very long anyways, they just need help until the Chief comes back. So that means, you'll be chief Alex Mason for a whole three months!" Rivers spoke, ashing her cigarette.
Rivers slid him a pen, and gave a devious smile. She pointed to the words on the contract as she spoke.
"We'll still be paying what you make here hourly, and they will also pay you for the position. You'll receive a work vehicle, and housing options if you are interested. But, if you will, please sign here, and here. And then finally, date this at the bottom."
Mason sighed, and grabbed the pen.
"I really hope this isn't a stupid idea, Drill Sergeant Rivers. I'll still have my position here in the Marines, right?" Mason asked.
"Of course, Lieutenant. You are the best of the best. Besides, I don't think Frank would last very long without you." She said with a chuckle.
Mason signed the papers, and slid them back over to Rivers. She quickly and carefully tucked them away safely into the left pocket of the folder, and set it off to the side.
"Thank you, Mason. The Fire Department is going to welcome you with open arms, and everyone is going to greatly appreciate what you are doing. Now, why don't you get on out of here and head over to the Fire Department. The director is anticipating your arrival at 0700 hours. You are dismissed."
Mason stood up, and quickly saluted Rivers. He turned on his heel, and gathered his things. Woods come up to him and patted his back. Mason looked back at Frank.
"Man, what was that about? Sounded like you were in some hot ass water. Did she find out about last weeks breakout?" Woods asked with a smirk.
Mason slapped him, and told him to stay quiet. Mason rolled his eyes, and started walking. Woods followed close.
"No, she didn't. I actually have gotten assigned to something new all together, but just for 6 months. So it looks like you'll be a lone wolf until I get back." Mason said.
"Wait, where in the fuck are you going? And when the hell are you comin' back??" Frank asked as they stepped into the elevator.
Mason clicked up, and the doors shut. It took them up to ground parking.
"I'm filling in for a Fire Chief for a while, I got personally hand picked for the job is what I got told."
"Well brother, you can't argue with that. We are still gonna have boys night on Friday's, right?" Frank asked, before getting out at where the elevator stopped.
Mason laughed, and nodded.
"Of course man, as always. Bring a 30 pack this time!" He shouted to Frank as the door closed.
"My ass!" Frank called out.
Mason patiently waited as it took him up. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. He walked to his pickup truck and got in. He slammed his door shut and laid his head back onto his seat.
'I hope I don't fuck up.' Was all he repeated to himself.
Months later......
Mason was heading to his office with a newly made friend, Dixon. Dixon was a higher up who worked with everyone, so he frequented Mason. They had coffee in hand, and were ready for safety reports.
"Oh shit, Dix. Do you remember any information on the structure at the controlled burn on the corner of Euclid and Odin we did? I need details for my JHA but I can't recall shit for some fucked reason." Mason asked as they both sat down.
"I can tell you that it had 5 stories, and over 50 apartments in it. Oh, it stood next to Crane Run Bakery. The ignition was faulty wiring, right?" Dixon responded.
"No, it was a gas line pipe. The faulty wiring happened at that bowling alley on Curtis Avenue. But thank you, hopefully I can get this JHA filled out how I should!" Mason said.
Dixon went on with Mason for about 30 minutes about baseball and football. Mason filled out his paperwork, ordered new parts for gear and trucks, and inspected everything with a fine tooth comb. It was a normal night shift for the fire crew, until the alarm system began to wail.
"We have a structure fire on Linden Ave, at 26435 Linden. Possible civilians trapped." Dispatch called through the speakers.
Within minutes, the whole shift was suited up and already in the truck and headed Northbound. Mason was behind the wheel, lights and sirens at full blast. The roads were dead at this time, minus the few cars that happened to be out at 2 AM.
"Dispatch, tell me what we're looking at. I have another truck enroute to said location, and about three ambulances. How high are flames?" Mason asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
"Dispatch here, we have flames about 20 feet up and rising. Recommend you get here quick."
"10-4." Mason responded.
They reached the fire within minutes. When they pulled up the fire was quickly engulfing anything in it's way. Mason knew what needed to be done. But right now, they needed a buidling sweep for any possible trapped people.
"Dixon, set up a crew to stay on hoses, bring about four out and hookup. My team, your with me! We are going in!" Mason said.
Mason put on his face gear, and quickly looked around for a way in. He spotted a perfect way in through a safe looking way. He quickly pointed his team that direction, and headed in. He always made sure to go ahead of his crew so he could determine what was happening.
He got in, midst the hot heat, heavy flames, and the small mist screen of water he'd feel periodically. He lead the way, and began to check every corner and possible place to hide he could. They swept the buidling for a grand total of 30 minutes before Mason determined it was clear.
"Head back everyone. Everything is clear, no indication of anyone." Mason said through the radio.
Everyone headed outside, Mason being left so he could check more. By now, the flames were out. The only thing left was smoking ruble and hot ashes. Mason carefully looked around, and looked even closer at a piece of burnt wood that was beginning to move.
Without thinking, he pulled it back, and revealed a small door that had shut, but by either luck or circumstance, hadn't been burned. Mason soon heard pounding on the metal door, and he went to open it. But it was behind blocked by something.
He struggled to open it completely, the pounding was now more frequent. He pulled with all his might, but it wouldn't budge. He could hear the sounds of a female crying, and begging for the door to be opened. Mason's adrenaline kicked in at this moment.
"I found a live one! Bring in a large ax for me, this damn for isn't opening!" Mason shouted into the radio.
"Miss, I'm going to need you to step away as far as you can from the door! We are going to cut it open! Shield your face until I get you!" Mason yelled.
He took out his small ax, and began to chop away at the hinges. But, the small ax could stand no chance against the hard metal. Instead, he quickly turned and saw Dixon with the industrial ax. He took it, and with brute strength, he swung done with control and accuracy.
The hinges slowly began to break away, until finally the door popped right off. Mason gave the ax back, and quickly threw the door off. He looked back down inside, and saw a girl about his age, coughing her lungs out. He wasted no time, and held his hand out.
She took it, and Mason lifted her out. He quickly adjusted her so she'd be against his back, to where he kept a good grip on her and carried her out. She was covered in black ash and soot, and was damp with water and sweat from the heat.
Once they were out, Mason quickly sat the girl on the gurney and took his respirator off. He secured it around her face, and up to her mouth and nose. The fresh oxygen would help her with breathing, seeing as if her lungs just went through extreme stress.
"Are you alright? Is there anybody else down in that basement?" Mason asked once her breathing returned to normal.
She looked at him, and slipped the mask off.
"No, it was just me. I was just trying to do my laundry for work, and that's when the door slammed shut and I couldn't get out....."
Mason felt a pang in his heart for this beautiful lady.
"Well, you are alright now. We are going to have EMS check you out, and ride you to the hospital to run standard tests." Mason said, giving a smile.
He took his respirator back and turned on his heels. He walked away to regroup with his crew, and Dixon. They cleaned up best they could, and headed back to the station for a shower and change of clothes.
Months After....
Mason sat in the town sqaure, drinking a coffee in his uniform. He was sat on one of the square benches, reading the paper as he waited on Woods. It was Friday, they were going to play poker after a long, exhausting week.
"Excuse me, sir? May I sit with you?" A voice said.
Mason looked up from his paper, and confusion hit him. A familiar looking face flooded his view, but he just couldn't place it. Her face had small bandaids, and a few purple bruises.
"Well, of course. Do I know you?" He questioned.
She sat down, only then did Mason notice the green box in her beat up hands.
"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, you actually saved my life in a fire on Linden street, I talked to a man named Dixon at the fire house to where I could find you.....I have something for you here." She said, handing it to him.
"No Miss, I can't take that. I was just doing my job, I don't need a reward. Seeing you alive and breathing is reward enough." Mason said.
She pushed the small box towards him. The smile on her face was warm, and made Mason feel butterflies.
"Please, I insist." Was all she said.
Mason took the box and opened the lid. Inside was a beautifully made chocolate cake, all kinds of different snacks, and a check of $15,000 dollars.
"Miss, no, I can't. This is way too much money, I will not take it." Mason said, putting it back.
"Please sir, I don't mind. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. It would mean so much to me. If anything, please donate it to your firehouse." Y/N said.
"I will do just that then. We've been needing new parts for months...."
Mason looked back up at Y/N, and smiled.
"I'm Alex Mason by the way, I'm glad to see you are recovering well. Maybe I could take you to dinner sometimes?" He asked slyly.
You chuckled, and nodded.
"Of course, I'd love that.
Taglist: @smokeywhalee @kapanovangswife @americas-monster @wennbergbabe @direwolfspostsrandomshit @kazazure @draw-with-eri @scumbagg @silomotism
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Linden & Colton - 19
(masterpost)
CW: references to noncon, Col fearing he'll be sexually abused, flashbacks, brief victim blaming, pet whump, dehumanisation
-
Linden’s phone buzzed again, and he knew exactly who it’d be before he even looked.
Sure enough, messages from his brother were crowding his phone screen. Vikram texted in small, frantic messages, that Linden found oddly funny.
lol fine knowing you you’ll never suggest a day
are you free tomorrow? I’ll come over for lunch or something
you know you miss me!!
Linden rolled his eyes, but truth be told, he did miss him. A new message appeared before he had the chance to start typing.
fine FINE I just want to see jaffa. you can die idc
That made him huff out a laugh, but he’d never give Vik the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, he typed back:
Tomorrow is fine, don’t worry about bringing food. What are you doing now? Can you ring me? I have something to tell you before you visit.
Vik replied almost immediately.
yeah gimme 2 secs, who have you killed lol!
He checked around for Colton, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably still working his way through the little chores and tasks Linden had given him, which meant he was either changing the roll of toilet paper in the bathroom (great for dexterity) or watering the balcony plants (providing plenty of fresh air and sunlight). Either way, he still positioned himself in the corner of the lounge, the furthest from his Pet’s ears.
He answered on the second ring. “Vik?”
“Hey, big man. You alright?”
“Yeah… yeah… I, um, I need to tell you something before you come over.”
“You sound tense, mate. What is it? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine it’s just- I have a Pet. Uh. Yeah.”
Vik didn’t miss a beat. “Are you serious? You, a Pet owner? Please.”
“I know, but there was this, this ad, in the paper, the council were talking about this random stray and they said if no one claimed him they were gonna put him down. They would have murdered him, Vik! And I don’t know. I just thought, fuck, no one else is gonna do anything are they. So I rang them up and they gave him to me for free.”
“Wow,” Vik said, a placeholder while he digested all of that. “So, how is he?”
“He’s alright, yeah. Only recently learned that he could speak. He’s still really really jumpy.”
“He’s scared of you, then,” Vik translated.
“Yeah. I don’t know how much of him you’ll see tomorrow. I’ll tell him it’s alright if he just stays in his room.”
“I can’t picture you as a Pet owner, even though you’re not a proper one.”
“Not a proper one as in I’m a good person with a soul?” Linden quipped. Vik snorted.
“Basically. Ew, it’s weird! He does whatever you say! But you’re just- you’re Linden. You’re my stupid baby brother. He should be telling you what to do.”
Linden smiled. Vik always put him at ease. Difficult topics seemed to flow off him like water off a duck. “Yeah, yeah it is kind of weird, I’m still getting used to it. But you see why I wanted to let you know beforehand.”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” he laughed. “Or else I might have thought he was burgling your house and I’d have asked to join in.”
“Oh, shut up. See you for lunch.”
“See you, Pet man!”
Linden felt the weight lift from his shoulders, but not entirely. Now he had to tell Col.
. . .
He had finished over ten minutes ago. Shiny drops of water still lingered on some of the wider leaves, not quite ready to drop into the moist soil below. But the balcony was too warm and sunny to resist, so Col was still kneeling there when he heard Master’s voice behind him.
He flinched hard at the sound, getting up quickly and ungraciously, tripping over his own feet as if he hadn’t just been caught lazing around.
Through the doorway, a perfect rectangle of light caught Master’s face, cutting down through one eye and turning his left cheek a tawny brown. He had his hands clasped behind his back, and leant forward slightly.
“Don’t worry about getting up, you’re fine, love. No, I don’t know if you heard, but I was just speaking to my brother Vikram over the phone. He’s going to visit tomorrow.”
Master was having a guest. Col nodded, but his mind went white. He suddenly felt like he wasn’t in control anymore. He was underwater, and Master’s voice barely faded through from above the surface.
“You can stay in your room, okay? You don’t have to come down and see him, if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure. I just wanted to let you know beforehand.”
The words flowed past his head, and whatever barriers had been pulled down over his mind kept them from making a dent. “Thank you, sir,” his body replied.
“Okay?” Master half-smiled. “Okay. Good stuff, Col. It’s a nice day- stay out on the balcony more, I know you like it there. I’ll see you later, okay?”
He nodded, but it must have been delayed, because he blinked and Master had left the room, as if he had never been there. Had Col dreamt it?
Turning around, the flowers were wet, so he had completed that task. He knew he had been ordered to stay, so he did, trying to keep the creeping dread from flooding him entirely.
But-
The next day-
It all came crashing down. His eyes snapped open and he was in his room, waiting, and then there was the click of the front door and Master was speaking, speaking with another voice- there was a man in the house-
Master only ever had guests when his Pet had been bad, and he was going to be taught a lesson, and that’s why he was told to wait in his room, that’s why he was prepped, maybe it was a small mercy. But he had been in such a state of denial, barely able to process the news, that he hadn’t done anything to make it hurt less.
All he knew was that he was on the floor in the corner, the furthest one from the bed, and his arms were wrapped around him as if that’d do anything to stop the onslaught. He knew they would just force his limbs apart and restrain them like that until they were done, and it didn’t matter whether he cried and begged. Sometimes they even enjoyed it more when he did. Once he had been lifted up by his throat and told to beg for his life, and it made everyone laugh, because look at it, it wants this, it’s begging for it.
The door handle turned and Col could see Master’s face. His eyes scanned the room briefly before they landed on Col, tucked away in the corner of the room. “Col? What is it?”
. . .
Hey, Col. Vik is here, just so you know, but again, no pressure to come downstairs. He knew what he would say, the tone he’d say it in, so he could hopefully make Col feel secure. But it all fell apart when he laid eyes on the Pet, curled up and trembling on the far side of the room.
“Col?” he said. “What is it?”
“You promised,” Col sobbed, utterly betrayed. Linden’s heart broke. “You promised you wouldn’t- wouldn’t- wouldn’t do that…”
“I won’t,” he said, understanding immediately and wanting more than anything to go over to Col and pull him into a hug. But he couldn’t. He knew that.
“You said you wouldn’t let anyone else,” he whispered, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes.
Then- the moment of vulnerability passed. Not that Col looked any less vulnerable. He was still hunched, small and weak, programmed to do whatever it took to make Linden happy. But he caught his tongue, and the mask slipped back on.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You can do- do what you want to me. Of course. I’m not, I don’t mean to question you, Master, I’m sorry, I know my place, I’m good, I promise I’m good.”
“You are, you’re really good.” He put a hand over his heart and kept it there. “I’m not going to come in, Vik isn’t going to come in. Neither of us are going to hurt you. I promised, and I’m sticking to it.”
Col was still sobbing, but it was more uneven breaths than actual tears. He couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to with the way his lungs were pulling the rug from underneath him.
“For now, I think you might feel safer if I just left you alone, so I’ll go back downstairs, okay? And I won’t disturb you again. You just make sure you feel better, that’s all that matters. Don’t worry, Col. You’re safe.”
-
Vikram didn’t say anything as Linden returned, but he did raise his eyebrows. Linden just nodded, keeping quiet until he was sat back down and, hopefully, out of earshot.
“Poor thing,” said Linden. “He thinks, well- he just sees everything as a threat. I don’t know if he’s ever had a positive experience with another person before. At least not in his memory. Did you…”
He trailed off and Vik simply nodded. All humour was gone from his face; he knew when to leave it out, and when it would help. “Yeah, I heard a bit of it. Heard him crying.”
“I don’t want you to take it personally-“ Linden started, but Vik had already swatted at him.
“Oh, stop it. As if I would. But I am- I am happy I’m here, even though I’m sorry it’s scared him. You need someone too, Linden. Like, shit, this is a full time job.”
“You sound weird, being nice to me” he smiled weakly. Vik grinned back at him, in complete earnest.
“Well then, we can talk about something else, if you want. Something I can confidently mock you for. Where’s Jaffa, too?” he twisted around in his chair, searching for her. His floofed-up hair, hairsprayed to excess, bobbed around on the top of his head as he went. “Where’s my little main attraction?”
Soon Vik had Jaffa on his lap where he was brushing her absent-mindedly, listening to Linden talk about the latest book he had read.
“You are a fuckin’ hermit, dude.”
“And?” Linden pulled his best bored-looking face.
“Well… actually, yeah, stay indoors. Forcing you to come drinking with me would be at the rest of the pub’s expense.”
“You’re a bastard,” Linden laughed. “It’s you they should be worrying about, with that boulder of hair on your head. Look at the state of it, it crunches when you touch it.”
“The ladies love it.”
“Yeah, ‘cause they know if they get locked out they can use it to smash a window.”
. . .
Above them, Col listened. He couldn’t make out the words, but both men seemed happy and upbeat, excited about the night ahead of them, excited about the pliant little bitch waiting upstairs.
Before that, though-
Colton had been openly defiant. He had begged for it to stop before it had even started. He hadn’t taken an ounce of pain, nothing had earned him the right to plead for mercy. He had not only been insubordinate, but he had done it while Master had a guest. That kind of embarrassment would not go unpunished. Master would not have his authority undermined by some common stray.
Col desperately needed to apologise. He knew he shouldn’t just wait for his punishment like usual this time. This time he needed to right the balance. He would prove that he knew his place, and show Master’s guest that his rule here was absolute. So with shaking hands, he slowly creaked open the door, and went downstairs.
The laughter died as he came into view, and even the feeling of their eyes settling over his body made his skin prickle. For a split second, his feet locked in place, but as usual his fear pushed them onwards. He kept his head down, his arms behind his back, his shoulders hunched. As soon as he reached Master’s feet, he knelt. Forehead to the floor. Hands to his sides, ready to be stomped on or grabbed. He was a slave. He was always open for his Master’s use. He did not answer back and he did not question.
“Col, are you, are you sure you want to be here?” Master asked from above. He was very sure. But yes, of course, it was no use Col thinking these kinds of affirmations in his head. He had to make them clear.
“I’m here to apologise, sir, for daring to answer back and embarrassing you. Your Pet knows that he is owned completely and it was c-completely wrong to question you. I had no right to ask for mercy, I don’t deserve any. I’m a mindless Pet with no free will and I exist to serve you. P-Please, accept th-this apology. It won’t- won’t happen again.”
He stammered, towards the end. He could only hope Master wouldn’t get angry about it.
. . .
Ironically, it was now that Linden was embarrassed. He glanced over at Vik, and as the two brothers made eye contact, it was as if they had exchanged a whole conversation.
You see, see what I mean? See how he is?
Yeah, dude. It’s fucked up.
I’m sorry.
Don’t be. You’re doing your best to help him. I’m not embarrassed if you’re not.
He gently reached down to Col and rested a palm on top of his head. He jerked in surprise, a weak gasp escaping his lips, but he otherwise stayed perfectly still.
“Okay, love. Thank you. I’m not angry, okay? My brother is here and he always puts me in a good mood.”
He shot another glance at Vik, mouthing this is how I make him understand. Vik nodded. He was looking at Col curiously. Linden wondered if this was how he had pictured him.
“You didn’t embarrass me. You’re fine. I’m not going to hurt you. Vik doesn’t want to hurt you either. Why don’t you go and sit on the balcony, and I’ll sit with you later, and pet your head? You’re not in trouble.”
As he retracted his hand Col’s head tilted upwards, chasing the warmth of the touch. He kept his eyes low, but whispered, “Thank you, sir, thank you, thank you for having mercy. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“Okay, you’re okay. Let me help you up.”
It was technically an order, and Col obeyed silently, offering no resistance as Linden slipped a hand over his elbow and pulled him to his feet. He smiled at Col, but his face was blank and resigned. Beyond fear. He had done what he could, and his fate was in Linden’s hands once more. It hurt to know that. Linden could decide to leash Col at any moment, torture him with knives and burning oil and belts, and Col wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
Linden steered him to the base of the stairs, and then gently encouraged him upwards, until he had drifted out of sight entirely.
The house was silent. He turned back to Vik, but neither had to say anything. Linden already knew that he understood.
-
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