#OC: London Friar

[fl4tlines]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Pinned to the Wall

@badthingshappenbingo ┆ Square Fill #1

「⛧」 OCs: Kayde de Angelis ⅋ London Friar

「⛧」 Content: Threatened Non-Graphic Mouth Gore ┆ Strangulation ┆ Cursing ┆ Implied Murder

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

⠀⠀⠀ ❝ If you wanna break these walls down, you're gonna get bruised; // Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it; // Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it. ❞

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

“You can’t expect me to keep doing this for you!” London slammed the door behind them. “Do you hear me?”

He followed Kayde further into the bedroom, unwilling to relent just yet.

“I perjured myself in the courtroom today! Do you know how much of a risk I took for you? I could lose my licence if anyone finds out. Who would keep you out of prison then?”

“I pay you to keep me out of prison. How you do that isn’t my concern,” Kayde responded, shooting a glare in London’s general direction. “If you had to perjure yourself because you couldn’t come up with anything better, then I’m clearly not getting what I’m fucking paying for.”

“Because you make it so damn easy to defend you,” London scoffed out his words. “A man is dead because you couldn’t keep your calm. It’s a pathetic excuse, Kayde.”

“It’s only just occurring to you that maybe I’m not the easiest person to defend? That maybe defending me is a mistake? Right now?”

“I —”

“That’s what I fucking thought. You say that you didn’t know, but you did. And you know now, but you’re still fucking here.”

“That doesn’t make me think of you any more highly. You’re still fucking pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” Kayde lunged forward, shoving London backwards with all his body weight. “I’m fucking pathetic?

The sheer force knocked London’s breath from under him as he hit the wall. Back pressed against the gold-edged maroon wallpaper. Uncharacteristically sophisticated for someone like Kayde, London thought.

“Screw you!” Kayde spat, a forearm lodged against London’s throat. “I swear, if you say another fucking word, I’ll cut out your damn tongue. Then you won’t have a problem with your perjury.”

London winced as he exhaled, weighing up his options before he dared open his mouth. He was walking barefoot on shattered ego and Kayde was ready to snap, stretching the elastic of his fragile patience further with every second that London remained silent.

“That’s… extreme,” London rested his head backwards, easing up just a fraction of Kayde’s pressure. “Isn’t it?”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Kayde seethed, “Aren’t you supposed to be smarter than that?”

Immature mockery.

“I think… I think that you,” London took a sharp breath inwards as Kayde pressed forward. “You need to take a couple steps back.”

“That’s not your fucking call to make!”

London remained silent.

“You don’t get to fucking tell me anything. Do you get that?”

Silence.

“Do you?”

London could feel Kayde’s anger beginning to boil over — the tightening of his grip over London’s throat was the subtlest of hints.

“I understand you —” a strained inhale, “— just fine,” London inhaled once more, pausing just long enough to coax Kayde into a single step backwards. “But you need to watch yourself.”

Kayde glared across, and London could visualise the game of connect-the-dots Kayde was playing in his mind in that very moment. Cogs turning as London’s words slotted into place.

“Me? Watch myself?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck gives you the authority to demand that?”

London paused once more. Giving Kayde enough time to begin piecing things together himself.

“I get the authority because I’m the only one who is simultaneously smart and stupid enough to keep your sorry ass out of prison,” London brought fingertips to brush lightly over the zipper on Kayde’s jacket — pulling it down just slightly in a teasing movement. “Do you get that?”

#Bad Things Happen Bingo #BTHB #Pinned to the Wall #OC: Kayde de Angelis #OC: London Friar #WIP: Unnamed #whump #whump snippet #whumpee #caretaker #angst #mine #whump drabble #whumpblr

[whumpinparis]

Lost in London — Chapter One

Kay || London || Lost in London Masterlist : 3200 Words

Content: Long Term Captivity, Non Sexual Nudity, Branding, Homophobic Slur, Scars, Bruises.

Aching deep in Kay’s back was what woke him. As he lay on the coarse grass, it was almost as if a warm comfort enveloped him. Daylight rained down on the plants around him as he closed his eyes. The panic came later. A swirling in his chest that made nausea rise in his dry throat. Consoled only by the warm air — fresh air — Kay pushed himself up.

The sight that met him was unfamiliar. What seemed like swathes of empty fields rolled in front of him. Already, the greyed concrete box he’d called home for — for a long time, with its single, temperamental light, felt distant. Stagnant air already seemed an entire world away from this and Kay feared, if he moved any more, he would wake and this fantasy would come crashing down around him. He would think too much and the sedatives would spin themselves into a nightmare far from this brief respite. A vague urgency tugged at the back of his mind; it was that, and that alone, which forced his reconsideration.

Minute after minute passed before Kay stood, legs quivering beneath him while he found his balance. A dull pain shot up his left wrist as he pressed his hand into the greenery. Fuck. There was nothing within his power that he could do about it, though. As a pathetic attempt to quell the discomfort, Kay pulled his hand into his body and let out a strained hiss.

The emptiness around him was a relief — nobody was watching him. Recently, Kay had gotten good at sensing when he was being watched. Nobody could be standing and watching him. No undergrowth could conceal them — no treelines to obscure an observer from view. For whatever reason, he was alone. Left here alive.

Still cradling his injured arm, Kay decided to just move. Head forward, for now. It was as sane a choice as any. Screeching birds gave no indication of his location — he could be anywhere. As he stumbled through the field, his mind wandered to his fiancé. The thought was fleeting, gone in moments, but the dread lingered in his stomach.

His jeans gained yet another tear as he hauled himself over a brambled hedge. Then a second one. The thorns dragged over his skin and Kay simply ignored them. Didn’t flinch. It felt like he walked for hours, dizzied by the repetitive landscape until traffic hummed over the horizon.

As the slanted grass extended in front of him, Kay pushed on. It was only now that he was becoming aware of a headache, pounding in his skull. The sporadic vehicular vibrations were becoming much closer together now — one after the other — consistent.

He spared no second glance at the road in front of him before he crossed. The tarmac was harsh against his worn soles, but that was the least of his concern as he spotted a café. Nestled comfortably between a cycle store and bakery, ‘Le Jardin’ felt as though it was reaching out to him. Finally offering safety. Someone inside could offer safety.

Even now, Kay had no reliable notion of just how long he’d spent in that damn grey box. Going out of his mind in solitude. The fact he had kept it together that long was a miracle in itself. Six months of that and Kay’s entire concept of time had dissipated. Minutes and hours had long since swirled together.

The reverberations of the bell above the door made Kay flinch as he skimmed his gaze over the occupants inside. Seated on reclaimed wooden benches as warm yellow bulbs hung above. Kay counted a total of eight people. Himself, a tired barista, two students working through a textbook together — she had her head on his shoulder — two men holding hands by the counter, a woman on the phone and a woman working at the back on a pale blue laptop. The lack of attention on Kay was a relief. It gave him time to work up the courage to ask his question.

“Hey — hey, I need to know where I am. What state?” Kay cringed at the rasp in his voice as he leant forward onto the counter and attempted to get the barista’s attention. His left hand was still firmly against his torso.

“Avez-vous besoin d'une ambulance? Police?”

Ambulance? Police? That was the last thing Kay wanted right now. He shook his head frantically — only more discouraged by the seeming misunderstanding. A heavy accent had obscured most of the sentence.

“No — no. I don’t need that,” he started, though a brief glance down was enough to force nausea to rise in his stomach. Scuffed shoes with holes in the soles, bloodied and ripped jeans and his shirt — almost soaked in dried blood. Kay could pinpoint each blotch to a different incident, if he really tried. He didn't want to. “I just need to talk to someone.”

“Non, tu es au Luxembourg, pas en Angleterre,” was the response he got. “Pas d'ambulance? Vous avez du sang partout sur vous!”

Kay could pick out barely two words. Luxembourg and ambulance.

“No, don't call an ambulance,” He argued and made a vague gesture with his hands out of frustration. “I need someone who speaks English. I don't know what you're saying.” It was more than likely his blank look gave it away.

“Quelqu'un parle-t-il bien l'anglais? Je pense que celui-ci vient de l'hôpital psychiatrique d'Oakstead,” the barista had raised his voice to address other patrons and laughed.

Kay was trying his best to work out what the barista — Gabriel, according to his handwritten name badge — was saying. What language. Spanish? It sounded like it could be, but Gabriel was speaking far too quickly for Kay to comprehend it.

“I just need to talk to someone, please? Someone who speaks English,” Kay wasn’t ready to give up yet. He held his hands up in a faux-surrender as Gabriel returned to making a drink for someone else. Back to ignoring Kay. Then again, Kay could see why. There was no way he sounded sane.

He had no choice but to look around helplessly, having been clearly brushed off as some kind of prank.

“Anglais? Please?” He asked, desperately, doing his best to mimic the way Gabriel had spoken the unfamiliar word. It rolled awkwardly off his tongue, but did catch someone’s attention as Kay looked around the café again.

The guy — blond, wearing blue jeans and a loose blazer — had gotten up with who Kay assumed what his partner. That was only confirmed when she gathered up the notes and kissed him. She had her arm hooked around him before saying goodbye and leaving, waving at him through the window as she disappeared down the sidewalk.

Kay was caught off guard when the man gestured for him to come over, pulling out the bench opposite him before sitting back down. Kay stared at him for a moment before accepting the invitation. It could be snatched away at any moment.

London had been paying a vague amount of attention to the man who had been asking for English, and trying to make sense of what was going on. It was almost laughable.

Eventually, it dawned on him that maybe this could be serious — maybe there was something more going on. The panicked look — the genuinely fearful look — on the man’s face clicked everything into place for London. He pulled out the chair opposite him and met the gaze of the other man. Instant relief seemed to flood his expression.

“What’s your name?” London asked, pushing his own university notes to the side so he could talk to the man without distraction. “I’m London — Friar.”

Kay had eagerly taken a seat, though was glad to be largely ignored by the majority of customers again. And then he was spoken to. In English.

“London? I — uh — Kay. My name’s Kay,” he fumbled to get the words out fast enough. “But where am I? What’s the date? I — I know how it sounds, but I promise I’m not screwing around.”

“You need to answer something for me first,” London responded. “What happened to you? You’re covered in blood and didn’t want an ambulance. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah — uh — it was just a falling out. And don’t worry, it’s my blood, I think. But it’s old. Where are we? Please?” He was looking across at London pleadingly, noting his blue eyes and soft features. It gave him something to focus on — something to ground him. Something he needed desperately right now.

“We’re in Käerjeng, just outside Esch-sur-Alzette, near the French border —”

Kay scoffed out some form of a laugh. “So you're telling me I’m in France? Fucking France? You have to be messing with me,” he made no attempt to hide his shocked expression. Last thing he knew, he’d been in Oregon. Washington before that. New York before.

“We’re in Luxembourg, but close to the border. I don’t have any vested interest in ‘messing you around’ either. I don’t know you,” London’s response was simple — considered. “In answer to your earlier question, it’s August twenty-second, twenty-twenty.”

Kay was too stunned to even begin formulating a response. 2020. He hardly realised that he was shaking his head, brows slightly furrowed as he tried to come to terms with that. 2020. Except, London sounded serious.

He seemed to catch onto the disbelief quickly. He picked up his phone — wrapped in a light blue case — from the table and turned on the screen before showing it to Kay. An image of him and another guy at — at a themepark filled the screen. They were standing together, with London resting his head on his shoulder and looking up at him. And then Kay realised what he was being shown. 15:43 on the 22nd of August, 2020.

He jumped slightly at a noise from behind the counter — the hiss of reheating milk and simultaneous whir of a blender — before London spoke again, bringing his focus back.

“If you’re telling me the truth, and you don’t want the police or an ambulance, then what do you want?” London asked, eyebrows subtly raised. “What I mean is, what’s your plan? Assuming that you don’t have cash or a phone. I can see that you don’t have spare clothes.”

When Kay checked his pockets, he pulled out almost three dollars in loose change and placed them on the table. It was all he had on him. Those three dollars sitting on the table were almost enough to put the situation in perspective for Kay.

“My plan? I — uh… I don’t know,” it felt like a lot for Kay to admit, but it was far better than lying. “Get home, I guess? I think my family probably still lives in New York but — uh — me and my fiancé were planning to move to Salem. Maybe try and track him down? We were planning our wedding and —,” Kay cut himself off. London didn’t need this rambling. It would only cement the idea that Kay was, to put it bluntly, a mess.

He didn’t even want to delve into his biggest problem. He didn't have a passport. There was no way he should have been able to leave the country. So how was he going to get back in?

London seemed to read his mind.

“Do you have your passport with you? Immigration law isn’t my area, but you’re not going to just be able to get on a plane and expect that they won’t send you straight back here,” London pointed out. “But, think short term. Where are you staying tonight? I hate to break it to you, but you’re in desperate need of a shower.”

How was Kay supposed to answer that question? Where would he stay? With not even three dollars in the wrong currency to his name, he didn’t have many options. Any, actually. If, like London had said, it was the height of Summer, a park bench would suffice. Provided that he wasn’t arrested before finding one. Kay had slept in worse places — the splintering wood of a decaying bench was welcome. He would still have to tussle with the issue of a shower, but that was a far less urgent issue.

“Listen, Kay? My place isn’t a long walk from here. We can go there, you can have a shower and a hot drink and I can help you figure out your next move. At the very least, I know the city well,” London offered freely. “At least then you can change out of those clothes.”

Everything in Kay’s gut told him to turn down London’s offer. Told him that it was too much — too generous. That it came with too many invisible strings attached to be safe. Except, the idea of a shower and fresh clothes was too appealing to turn down.

“Yeah, that would be amazing — if you’re sure?” The words out of his mouth felt like a betrayal. He shouldn’t be taking a stranger up on this. After, well, everything, being more careful should be a priority. As it stood, Kay rejected his instincts. Surely something like this could get London in trouble for trying to help. But Kay found it hard to empathise with that.

The walk back to London’s home was a daze. Kay hardly even remembered leaving the coffee shop. Hushed whispers from rustling trees distracted Kay as they walked — he was able to swap out the disapproving stares from others and instead focus his attention on the occasional squirrel darting up a tree. Other than the jittering of wildlife, Kay kept his head down. Kept to himself. Perhaps, if he were at home, safe, he would have yelled at them to mind their own business, or more bluntly, just to fuck off. Now? He didn't want to draw any additional attention to himself. This was bad enough as it was.

Kay hung back as London opened the teal front door. Was he really doing this? It felt strange to think that London was just offering help. There had to be invisible strings attached, ready to tighten around his wrists at the first sign of him backing out. The well maintained garden wrapped around the house, enclosing the long driveway which distanced it from the road. This was nicer than anywhere else Kay could have hoped to spend the night with three dollars. Not that Kay was expecting London to let him stay the night — but he could hope.

“Having second thoughts? By all means, go and do your own thing, I won’t take it personally,” London shrugged as he stepped over the threshold. He gestured for Kay to follow him inside.

Kay hesitated before stepping forward, up the three stone steps and onto the coarse mat outside the door. London was honestly sharing his home with a stranger? Unprompted and unprovoked? That showed an insane amount of trust from London, and Kay wasn't about to blow it.

“Why are you helping me out? It’s not like I have anything to offer you. Nothing to, like, repay you for your time, or the spare clothes…” Kay allowed himself to let his words trail in the ground as the door clicked closed behind him.

“It’s the decent thing to do,” London responded as he headed down the hall and disappeared through an archway on the left.

Kay nodded and followed after him, though stayed in the doorway for now. At first glance, London’s decorative choices were interesting. The chosen furniture was bland in colour, though art pieces on the walls made up for that. As did sets of framed photographs. Some contained London and the girl from the coffee shop, while others contained London and the guy from his lockscreen. He was snapped out of his musings and observations when London spoke to him again.

“The bathroom is upstairs. First door on the left. But, uh —,” London paused and turned his back on Kay before his footsteps receded into the next room. He reappeared barely moments later with fabric draped over his arm. “Towel and clean clothes. I think they’ll probably fit, let me know if they don’t,” he said. “If you need to keep them, they’re yours.”

His smile unnerved Kay. The honesty behind it felt jarring — but real.

“Thanks, this means a lot,” Kay said quietly. He stood under the archway for several moments, as if he expected London to throw him out. Eventually, he reached out and took the bundle of clothes and towel, shifting it to under his right arm. London nodded in encouragement and gestured to the staircase.

That was what finally prompted Kay to smile faintly at London and started to head up the stairs.

“It bolts from the inside,” London called after him. “Just take a shower and then we can talk, and for god’s sake, use some of the deodorant that’s in there,” London grinned, turning his back on Kay.

Once Kay was completely sure, he went upstairs and pushed the bathroom door open. He found a pristine room — just as clean as the rest of London’s home.

He hung the clothes over the radiator and bolted the door. He knocked his hand against the metal of the radiator as he began tugging off the tattered shirt. Kay sucked in a pained breath but kept going, before dropping the long sleeved shirt onto the floor. The design which was once printed on the front of it had since been rendered unrecognisable.

Burns — healed over and deeply scarred danced up his left forearm. Trailing and spelling out just one word.

Faggot.

Branded permanently into his skin.

Upon catching a glimpse of it, Kay set his jaw and forced himself to continue undressing. He kicked jeans and underwear to the side before reaching out and twisting the shower on. Up to the highest temperature. He stepped under the stream of iced water, unflinching as he waited for it to warm.

Kay leant into the steamed heat for a long time, taking off dried blood and swirling it down the drain. His head was tilted upwards as he wet his hair, deliberately keeping his gaze away from his own body.

It was even longer before he dared look down at himself, nausea rising as he took stock of various bruises on his torso, accentuated by the occasional faded jagged scar. Too much flooded back at the sight of them — he closed his eyes.

Kay took full advantage of the shower. Pomegranate shower gel scrubbed deeply into his skin. Under his nails. Over scars. A desperate attempt at feeling clean. A coconut shampoo. Matching conditioner.

Comparative luxury.

The disgust took what felt like hours to wash away — what could have been months of accumulated dirt and grime was finally lifting. Kay had needed this, no matter how hard that was to admit.

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpee #caretaker #my ocs #lost in london #kay edwards #london friar #whump series

[swissmissficrecs]

Highbrow fics

This is the other set of recs I wanted to put together for @ghislainem70​ to ease her recovery. (The first list of BDSM-themed fics is here.) These are fics with a slightly more intellectual edge, inspired by ghislainem70′s many excellent and thought-provoking fics, such as The Omega Sutra, On the Side of the Angels, The Indestructibles, and Mad, Bad and Dangerous.

A Broken Engagement by ButterscotchCandybatch (18K, Explicit, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes, the younger son of the Baronet Siger Holmes, is forced to break off his engagement to the commoner, young Navy Lieutenant John Watson. He retreats into cold isolation and a laudanum addiction and it appears he may never have another offer of marriage. When the rich and dashing Captain Watson returns eight years later, he is now courting a family friend, Mary Morstan. Can Sherlock win back his John? Regency period AU.

A Dangerous Liaison by Holly Sykes (89K, Explicit, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes is married to crippled aristocrat Sir Victor Trevor and he has shunned the life of the flesh in favour of that of the mind. But what happens when he meets rugged gamekeeper John Watson, a disillusioned ex soldier with a murky past? Love and physical passion come up against the class divide, but there’s also a murder, the high society of 1920s London and Sherlock in costume.

All Things Will Die, Nothing Will Die by Holly Sykes (109K, Explicit, Johnlock) Time: January, 1831. Something suspicious is happening at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital: corpses are brought in and sold to the surgeons, but Sherlock Holmes suspects foul play. He’s not alone: at Guy’s Hospital, Doctor John Watson refuses to pay twelve guineas for a body that he fears has been tampered with. The lives of the two men collide one frosty winter night and from that moment on, they will never be torn asunder.A macabre AU story of grisly murders, passion, sex and mystery, with an unambiguous happy ending; inspired by the London Burkers crimes, by several short stories written around that period and by the book The Vampyre Family by Andrew McConnell Stott. Also, a very big help was the Italian Boy by Sarah Wise, which chronicles grave robberies in 1830's London.

Attribute Nothing to Fate by recreational (37K, Explicit, Johnlock) A journey to Italy calls up old desires, but John Watson, trapped by the social conventions of his time, is not prepared to give in to temptation and change his life forever. It takes someone else to do that for him.

Bel Canto by bendingsignpost (127K, Teen, Johnlock, Adlock, and Irene/Kate) After years of waiting for wealthy patrons to faint, Dr John Watson discovers a far more interesting patient in the opera house basement.

Books of Mystery by fresne (58K, Johnlock) Sherlock Omegaverse written as a medieval Romance. In this lai, I set forth the adventure that relates how the good knight Jean Lanval came to cleave with Mystery, and how though an ever leftward turning path he and his Lord chose, still they came to the right.

Lightning and Sea Glass by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (18K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mollrene) The mad Professor Moriarty and his reluctant assistant John Watson have reanimated the dead – and the results are beautiful. At least John thinks so. When Moriarty rejects his creation, John disappears with the creature to protect it, sealing their fates together.

One Night in December by Holly Sykes (126K, Explicit, Johnlock) London, 29th December 1940, 8 pm. The London Blitz reached its nadir with the bombing of the City of London and the area around its most beloved landmark, St. Paul’s Cathedral. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes meet as the flames blaze and roar all around them. But who is that dark-haired young man and why is he risking his life in such a careless manner? This is what Doctor Watson is wondering, as he eventually becomes enmeshed in a mystery that will take him away from his dreary, hopeless life and plunge him into the secret life of wartime London.

Sketchy by serpentynka (629K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mycroft/OMC) What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work?  A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl -- but cannot be ignored.  Oh, and...porn.

SPQR by hoc_voluerunt (156K, Teen, Johnlock) The year is AD 68. Emperor Nero is on the throne, the Judaean Revolt is nearing its end under the firm hands of Vespasian and his son Titus, and Marcus Caelius Piso Vannus, son of a British freedman and former surgeon to the Fifteenth Apollonian Legion, has just returned from the provinces with an injured shoulder and no veteran's benefits to rent a shabby room in the shadow of the city wall. Thrust into his life, however, comes Amulius Cornelius Celatus -- a noble man from an ancient family, with good hair, a better toga, and the biggest ego this side of the Tiber. You wouldn't think they'd end up living together, let alone fighting crime; but then, neither would you think that one shadowy criminal figure orchestrated the fire of 64...

Stars in a Phrygian Sky by fresne (60K, Explicit, Johnlock, Adlock, Viclock, Mollrene, and others) Sherlock got rid of everything that he had ever known about the stars when he was nine years and five months old, which given his plans to be a pirate in the West Indies, the importance of astral navigation for a pirate, and given that he was him, that had been quite a lot. He didn't give away his mariner's astrolabe until much later.When Irene was ten years old, she fell in love with the most beautiful, perfectly-perfect amoral Omega woman ever. Which is to say, she read Steinbeck's "East of Eden".John stayed up one particularly nasty March night until 2:32 am reading "The Seven Pillars of Wisdom". Hail rattled against the window. To John, it was the sound of desert sand on dry canvas.

Tanto Monta by fresne (62K, Explicit, Johnlock, Sheriarty, Sherlock/OMCs, John/OCs) Sherlock began to turn into a desert when he was nine. Desertification took years, but grain by grain his Memory Palace turned from a primordial forest into scrub brush and sand. Only mad dogs and Englishmen could love the desert that he'd made of himself.When John was fourteen, he stayed out late one particularly nasty March night at the rec centre reading a book. The results of that choice left him feeling like an ill fitting cog the rest of his life.Or equal opposites in balance.

The Beast of Baskerville by mildredandbobbin (74K, Explicit, Johnlock) 15th Century/fairy tale AU. An invalided John Watson comes to the isolated village of Baskerville seeking shelter with his sister, only to become embroiled in a grisly murder. As the villagers point to a local werewolf legend, the odd but brilliant friar, Brother Sherlock, disagrees and soon he and John are on the the trail of a murderer. Captivated by the enigmatic friar, John finds himself struggling with his illicit feelings for the celibate man of God.

The Desire and Pursuit of the Whole by Holly Sykes (90K, Explicit, Johnlock) Britain, 1925. Sherlock Holmes – young detective, violin player and virtual misanthrope – has been hired by a mysterious and immensely wealthy man to find the missing manuscript of a contentious novel. John Watson - doctor, ex soldier and widower - is older and disillusioned. They meet on a rainy night in Sussex and from then on both their lives are changed forever. As their tentative friendship turns into a more intense relationship, Sherlock and John’s big adventure sees them end up in Venice, where the mystery is finally solved.

Underneath the Veil by Holly Sykes (73K, Explicit, Johnlock) Lord Sherlock Holmes is a wealthy aristocrat who lives almost like a hermit and indulges in opium-eating and sporadic crime solving. One evening, in the throes of a drug-caused hallucination, he stumbles upon Doctor John Watson. It’s love at first sight for the still-virgin Sherlock, but he’s convinced the other man could never feel the same. When a renowned painter is killed, Sherlock convinces John to help him with the investigation and their friendship takes an unexpected turn.

Unreal Cities by breathedout (312K, Explicit, Johnlock, John/OMCs, Irene/OFC) Sherlock, John, and the Bloomsburies, gallivanting across Britain and the Continent in the early twentieth century. In 1920, two years after the end of the Great War, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson investigate two disappearances, eerily similar but separated by 80 years. In the process, they make enemies (and friends) of Bloomsbury intellectuals; travel to Sussex; deal with the aftermath of John's past in the trenches; read Victorian pornography; drink copious amounts of tea; and, of course, fall in love.

Watson’s Folly by Diana Williams (299K, Mature, Johnlock, Mystrade, and MorMor) John Watson, the new Earl of Saughton, is madly in love with the beautiful Mary Morstan. But he has returned from the Peninsular War to find his family on the brink of ruin and his ancestral home mortgaged to the hilt. He has little choice when he is introduced to Mycroft Holmes, a civil servant of apparently unlimited wealth and no social ambitions for himself - but with his eyes firmly fixed on a suitable match for his only brother, the unorthodox and irascible Omega Sherlock Holmes.  Can John forget the woman he loved and find happiness with a man so very different from his lost love?

#rec list

[tadomodoka4-blog]

from I am to see to it that I do not lose you. https://ift.tt/2uAW6mP via IFTTT

Highbrow fics

This is the other set of recs I wanted to put together for @ghislainem70​ to ease her recovery. (The first list of BDSM-themed fics is here.) These are fics with a slightly more intellectual edge, inspired by ghislainem70′s many excellent and thought-provoking fics, such as The Omega Sutra, On the Side of the Angels, The Indestructibles, and Mad, Bad and Dangerous.

A Broken Engagement by ButterscotchCandybatch (18K, Explicit, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes, the younger son of the Baronet Siger Holmes, is forced to break off his engagement to the commoner, young Navy Lieutenant John Watson. He retreats into cold isolation and a laudanum addiction and it appears he may never have another offer of marriage. When the rich and dashing Captain Watson returns eight years later, he is now courting a family friend, Mary Morstan. Can Sherlock win back his John? Regency period AU.

A Dangerous Liaison by Holly Sykes (89K, Explicit, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes is married to crippled aristocrat Sir Victor Trevor and he has shunned the life of the flesh in favour of that of the mind. But what happens when he meets rugged gamekeeper John Watson, a disillusioned ex soldier with a murky past? Love and physical passion come up against the class divide, but there’s also a murder, the high society of 1920s London and Sherlock in costume.

All Things Will Die, Nothing Will Die by Holly Sykes (109K, Explicit, Johnlock) Time: January, 1831. Something suspicious is happening at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital: corpses are brought in and sold to the surgeons, but Sherlock Holmes suspects foul play. He’s not alone: at Guy’s Hospital, Doctor John Watson refuses to pay twelve guineas for a body that he fears has been tampered with. The lives of the two men collide one frosty winter night and from that moment on, they will never be torn asunder.A macabre AU story of grisly murders, passion, sex and mystery, with an unambiguous happy ending; inspired by the London Burkers crimes, by several short stories written around that period and by the book The Vampyre Family by Andrew McConnell Stott. Also, a very big help was the Italian Boy by Sarah Wise, which chronicles grave robberies in 1830’s London.

Attribute Nothing to Fate by recreational (37K, Explicit, Johnlock) A journey to Italy calls up old desires, but John Watson, trapped by the social conventions of his time, is not prepared to give in to temptation and change his life forever. It takes someone else to do that for him.

Bel Canto by bendingsignpost (127K, Teen, Johnlock, Adlock, and Irene/Kate) After years of waiting for wealthy patrons to faint, Dr John Watson discovers a far more interesting patient in the opera house basement.

Books of Mystery by fresne (58K, Johnlock) Sherlock Omegaverse written as a medieval Romance. In this lai, I set forth the adventure that relates how the good knight Jean Lanval came to cleave with Mystery, and how though an ever leftward turning path he and his Lord chose, still they came to the right.

Lightning and Sea Glass by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (18K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mollrene) The mad Professor Moriarty and his reluctant assistant John Watson have reanimated the dead – and the results are beautiful. At least John thinks so. When Moriarty rejects his creation, John disappears with the creature to protect it, sealing their fates together.

One Night in December by Holly Sykes (126K, Explicit, Johnlock) London, 29th December 1940, 8 pm. The London Blitz reached its nadir with the bombing of the City of London and the area around its most beloved landmark, St. Paul’s Cathedral. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes meet as the flames blaze and roar all around them. But who is that dark-haired young man and why is he risking his life in such a careless manner? This is what Doctor Watson is wondering, as he eventually becomes enmeshed in a mystery that will take him away from his dreary, hopeless life and plunge him into the secret life of wartime London.

Sketchy by serpentynka (629K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mycroft/OMC) What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work?  A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored.  Oh, and…porn.

SPQR by hoc_voluerunt (156K, Teen, Johnlock) The year is AD 68. Emperor Nero is on the throne, the Judaean Revolt is nearing its end under the firm hands of Vespasian and his son Titus, and Marcus Caelius Piso Vannus, son of a British freedman and former surgeon to the Fifteenth Apollonian Legion, has just returned from the provinces with an injured shoulder and no veteran’s benefits to rent a shabby room in the shadow of the city wall. Thrust into his life, however, comes Amulius Cornelius Celatus – a noble man from an ancient family, with good hair, a better toga, and the biggest ego this side of the Tiber. You wouldn’t think they’d end up living together, let alone fighting crime; but then, neither would you think that one shadowy criminal figure orchestrated the fire of 64…

Stars in a Phrygian Sky by fresne (60K, Explicit, Johnlock, Adlock, Viclock, Mollrene, and others) Sherlock got rid of everything that he had ever known about the stars when he was nine years and five months old, which given his plans to be a pirate in the West Indies, the importance of astral navigation for a pirate, and given that he was him, that had been quite a lot. He didn’t give away his mariner’s astrolabe until much later.When Irene was ten years old, she fell in love with the most beautiful, perfectly-perfect amoral Omega woman ever. Which is to say, she read Steinbeck’s “East of Eden”.John stayed up one particularly nasty March night until 2:32 am reading “The Seven Pillars of Wisdom”. Hail rattled against the window. To John, it was the sound of desert sand on dry canvas.

Tanto Monta by fresne (62K, Explicit, Johnlock, Sheriarty, Sherlock/OMCs, John/OCs) Sherlock began to turn into a desert when he was nine. Desertification took years, but grain by grain his Memory Palace turned from a primordial forest into scrub brush and sand. Only mad dogs and Englishmen could love the desert that he’d made of himself.When John was fourteen, he stayed out late one particularly nasty March night at the rec centre reading a book. The results of that choice left him feeling like an ill fitting cog the rest of his life.Or equal opposites in balance.

The Beast of Baskerville by mildredandbobbin (74K, Explicit, Johnlock) 15th Century/fairy tale AU. An invalided John Watson comes to the isolated village of Baskerville seeking shelter with his sister, only to become embroiled in a grisly murder. As the villagers point to a local werewolf legend, the odd but brilliant friar, Brother Sherlock, disagrees and soon he and John are on the the trail of a murderer. Captivated by the enigmatic friar, John finds himself struggling with his illicit feelings for the celibate man of God.

The Desire and Pursuit of the Whole by Holly Sykes (90K, Explicit, Johnlock) Britain, 1925. Sherlock Holmes – young detective, violin player and virtual misanthrope – has been hired by a mysterious and immensely wealthy man to find the missing manuscript of a contentious novel. John Watson - doctor, ex soldier and widower - is older and disillusioned. They meet on a rainy night in Sussex and from then on both their lives are changed forever. As their tentative friendship turns into a more intense relationship, Sherlock and John’s big adventure sees them end up in Venice, where the mystery is finally solved.

Underneath the Veil by Holly Sykes (73K, Explicit, Johnlock) Lord Sherlock Holmes is a wealthy aristocrat who lives almost like a hermit and indulges in opium-eating and sporadic crime solving. One evening, in the throes of a drug-caused hallucination, he stumbles upon Doctor John Watson. It’s love at first sight for the still-virgin Sherlock, but he’s convinced the other man could never feel the same. When a renowned painter is killed, Sherlock convinces John to help him with the investigation and their friendship takes an unexpected turn.

Unreal Cities by breathedout (312K, Explicit, Johnlock, John/OMCs, Irene/OFC) Sherlock, John, and the Bloomsburies, gallivanting across Britain and the Continent in the early twentieth century. In 1920, two years after the end of the Great War, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson investigate two disappearances, eerily similar but separated by 80 years. In the process, they make enemies (and friends) of Bloomsbury intellectuals; travel to Sussex; deal with the aftermath of John’s past in the trenches; read Victorian pornography; drink copious amounts of tea; and, of course, fall in love.

Watson’s Folly by Diana Williams (299K, Mature, Johnlock, Mystrade, and MorMor) John Watson, the new Earl of Saughton, is madly in love with the beautiful Mary Morstan. But he has returned from the Peninsular War to find his family on the brink of ruin and his ancestral home mortgaged to the hilt. He has little choice when he is introduced to Mycroft Holmes, a civil servant of apparently unlimited wealth and no social ambitions for himself - but with his eyes firmly fixed on a suitable match for his only brother, the unorthodox and irascible Omega Sherlock Holmes.  Can John forget the woman he loved and find happiness with a man so very different from his lost love?

#IFTTT #I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

[fl4tlines]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Tearful Smile

@badthingshappenbingo ┆ Square Fill #3

「⛧」 OCs: Kayde de Angelis ⅋ London Friar

「⛧」 Content: Hospitalisation ┆ Cursing ┆ Death Mention┆Strained Relationship

「⛧」 Previous : Breaking a Promise

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❝ Ask no questions and you'll get no lies; // Turn the cheek and blind the eye; // Bend the knee and give away your life; // Bite your tongue and close your mind. ❞

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

“You’re so fucking stupid,” London didn’t even greet Kayde as he entered the hospital room. “Three fucking times, you flatlined while they tried to fix you up. Three. Do you know how screwed up you have to be to need to have your heart restarted three times?”

“Pretty screwed,” Kayde mumbled.

“Yeah, something like that,” London glanced at Kayde’s heart monitor.

“You’re not a doctor,” Kayde picked up on London’s worry immediately. “And I think, if you were my doctor, I might fire you.”

“If I were your doctor, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” London paused as he crossed the room and sat on the very edge of Kayde’s bed. Leant in and kissed him quickly. “Would I?”

Kayde smiled faintly and took London’s hand in his grip.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just tired.”

London shouldn’t have expected any different from Kayde. Always playing hero. Untouchable.

And, wasn’t he? Kayde seemed to prove time and time again that he was invincible.

“Do I get an explanation?” London softly nudged for some elaboration. “What the hell happened, Kayde?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. It was just — it’s just the normal. You know?”

“No, I don’t know!” London pushed himself to his feet and caught eye contact with Kayde. “That’s why I’m asking. I need to know if you’re in more danger!”

Kayde shook his head in response. Offering no verbal response.

“You’re not in danger? Or you don’t know? Or you’re not going to tell me?”

“I’ve sorted it. Okay? I’m safe, I can handle myself. But so are you. You’re safe too.”

“Me?”

“We don’t need to talk about this, London. Just once, trust me.���

London let out a heavy exhale, but nodded anyway. Kayde would get what he wanted anyway — London saw little value in causing a fight over this.

He sat back down on Kayde’s bed and smiled faintly, taking a moment to realise just how fucking lucky they had been. London kissed Kayde once more, foreheads pressed together as their touch lingered.

How Kayde had skimmed his fingertips over the hideous sea foam of death once again and pulled himself back from the edge.

“I love you. You know that?” London mumbled, finally pulling away from Kayde and meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah, I love you too, I guess.”

Kayde had never been one to reciprocate. But there was effort there. Just enough for London to know that he was trying.

London gave Kayde another smile, faint as tears clouded his gaze. No matter how hard he tried to hide them.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You know?”

Kayde ignored him. Ignored the gentle scolding.

“You can’t keep throwing yourself under the bus like this.”

Kayde still graced London with no response.

“Kayde!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kayde snapped. “Shut up, London.”

“Oh?”

“This is none of your fucking business. Leave it the fuck alone.”

“What? No — Kayde —”

“Get out. Get the hell out, London.”

“Kayde —”

“No. I’m fucking done with this. You’ve done your part. Now back the fuck off and leave me alone. Do I have to fucking threaten you, or can you back off?”

“I — I can back off,” London nodded quickly and put distance between them. “Call me.”

He didn’t wait for a response before slipping out of the door and clicking it shut. He knew damn well that he wouldn’t get one. Not from Kayde. Not right now.

London wiped the tears roughly away with his sleeve. Trying to brush off Kayde’s aggressive dismissal.

But, then again, what did he expect?

Kayde would come around eventually. He always did.

#Bad Things Happen Bingo #BTHB #Tearful Smile #OC: Kayde de Angelis #OC: London Friar #WIP: Unnamed #whump #whump snippet #hospital whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #angst #mine #whump drabble #whump fic

[fl4tlines]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Bruises

@badthingshappenbingo ┆ Square Fill #5

「⛧」 OCs: Kayde de Angelis ⅋ London Friar

「⛧」 Content: Captivity┆ Cursing ┆Threats ┆Implied Beating

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❝ A finger on the trigger is a crutch; // Time to press eject, it's a feeling in your gut; // It's a heartache in the making; // It's half post lonely; // Deadbeat promises, for your eyes only. ❞

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

London could feel the static of Kayde’s anger, even from across the room. From the way he adjusted his sleeves to the way he eyed London.

“I’m not in the mood,” London mumbled.

“Who was it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

London sat with his back against the wall and rested his head slightly to the side, against the radiator. But kept his gaze locked straight ahead.

“Tell me. I’m going to find out anyway.”

A veiled threat that wasn’t directed at London, for once.

“You already know. You sent him in here. I’m not a snitch. Quit playing saviour.”

Kayde crossed the room and sat on the floor, opposite London, who, in response, angled his gaze downwards to the floor.

“I know you’re not a snitch, London. This isn’t a trick question.”

“Sure as hell feels like it.”

“It’s not.”

“How many days?”

“What?”

“How many fucking days, Kayde?”

“Twelve.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

Kayde didn’t seem to be able to give an argument for that. It was almost as if he agreed. Almost as if London’s damp hostility didn’t come as a surprise.

“We’re done.”

“Done?”

“Someone I trust screwed with you. I can’t just let that happen,” Kayde seemed reluctant to explain his thought process further. “So we’re done.”

“So, what? One of your guys beats the shit out of me, and I’m suddenly able to go home?” London narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“No. I put you in the position where he was able to. I made you vulnerable,” he did his best to smother the concern that edged his tone. “I put you in danger.”

London didn’t open his mouth to deny it. Or at all. He stayed silent. Instead, he trailed his fingertips over bruises on his arms — the ones that he could see — and over bruises he had yet to see. Just under his eye. Along his jaw. Trailing down his neck.

He knew they were there.

“Do you want me to grab you some ice?”

“You’re hours too late for that.”

“It won’t help?”

London shook his head, ignoring how his hair fell in his face. Greasy. Streaked and stained with dried blood”

“I mean, maybe it will. But don’t waste your time.”

He closed his eyes as his head rested against the harsh metal of the radiator. Because the company — he could tolerate that. But the pity? That was just a twist of the knife.

“How was court?”

“What?”

“I said, how was court?” London repeated himself without lifting his head.

“Court? You — why are you asking?”

“I assume you got off. Because you’re here. But how did it go?”

“You’re asking me about court?” Kayde clarified. “Just so we’re on the same page.”

“Yes. Court. Felony assault with a deadly weapon. Ringing any bells?”

Kayde huffed acknowledgment but didn’t speak for several drawn out moments.

“The shitty lawyer brought it down from a felony to misdemeanour charge because I have no prior convictions.”

“Good,” London shifted slightly, still resting against the radiator. “You took a plea deal?”

“No. The asshole couldn’t positively identify me. Acquitted on all charges.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” London opened his eyes glanced in Kayde’s direction. “Hm?”

“Couldn’t,” Kayde narrowed his eyes. “Why do you even care?”

“I’m bored,” London tried. “Your friends aren’t much in the way of conversationists, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Bull. Why do you really care?”

“I was worried about you,” London made the confession with very little resistance. “You’ll get what’s coming. I get that — obviously I know that but —”

“That’s —”

“Stupid as hell?” London interjected.

“Yeah,” Kayde eyed him carefully. “Really damn stupid.”

The two sat together as silence settled into the space between them. A comforting silence, for London, at least. Void of pity and sympathy.

“How can I help?” Kayde finally asked. “How can I make this right?”

“Kayde — don’t. Don’t bother.”

“Don’t play hard to get,” Kayde muttered, getting to his feet. “Because I’m not playing with you. How do we move forward?”

“There isn’t a forward,” London’s brows furrowed, ever so slightly. “I’m not sure you’re getting that.”

“This is my olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

And London had to confess, he hadn’t pinned Kayde down as being one to ever concede. Irregardless of circumstances. Irrespective of fault.

“Y’know? I would just about kill for a shower,” London admitted, lifting his head to tentatively meet Kayde’s eyes. “If you’re offering.”

#Bad Things Happen Bingo #BTHB #Bruises #OC: Kayde de Angelis #OC: London Friar #WIP: Unnamed #whump #whump snippet #angst #mine #male whumpee #male whumper #whumpblr #captivity #kidnapping

[fl4tlines]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Breaking a Promise

@badthingshappenbingo ┆ Square Fill #2

「⛧」 OCs: Kayde de Angelis ⅋ London Friar

「⛧」 Content: Stab Wound ┆ Blood ┆ Cursing ┆ Limited Field Medicine

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❝ Time to lay claim to the evidence; // Fingerprints sold me out; // But our footprints washed away; // I'm guilty, but I'm safe for one more day. ❞

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

London pressed his hands into the wound, ignoring a pained gasp from Kayde as he dug in his palm. Forcing makeshift gauze into the cut — deep between two ribs. Just to get the bleeding under control.

It coated his hands. Wrapped halfway to his elbows. Coagulated under his nails as he held pressure. A type of pressure that could only be searing agony for Kayde.

But he was still breathing.

“You’re good. You’re good,” London reassured Kayde under his breath. Urgent lies of comfort. “We’ve just got to get this bleeding under control. Then you’ll be good.”

“I’m not a patient,” Kayde snapped in response. “Y’don’t have to — to — fuck.” He arched his head back and sucked in a breath as London pressed harder once more. “Reassure me.”

“It’s going to need — stitches — or more.” A neutral comment. As neutral as London could force.

“Just do it.”

“You’re sure as hell acting like a patient. You know damn well that I can’t do any of that.”

Kayde kept his mouth shut and allowed London to evaluate the wound in silence. Wincing only as the piercing pressure eased slightly.

“Hope you aren’t getting this handsy with all your patients,” he mumbled, grimacing as London readjusted his grip. “You’d make me jealous.”

“Hold still.”

Moments more passed. Kayde struggling slightly to keep his eyes focused on London.

“Y’re really just gonna let me bleed out?” Kayde forced a smile when the concern in London’s expression hit him.

Concern.

If London’s expression was giving it away — London never gave bad news away.

“I can’t do this. I — all I can do here is slow down the bleeding!” The spell of London’s calm had been broken. He kept one hand pressed against the wound as he spoke. Took the other and rested two fingers on Kayde’s neck. “I need to call someone.”

His pulse was fast. Too fast. Racing. Not that there was anything London could do about it. About anything.

“No hospital. No doctor,” Kayde shook his head. “Even you’re on thin fucking ice.”

“Please?” London met Kayde’s gaze and nodded. Just slightly. “Please? Let me call.” He tangled his blood soaked fingers through Kayde’s hair. “I have to call.”

Kayde shook his head and grimaced as he inhaled.

“Swear to me, you won’t,” Kayde fumbled to find London’s hand with his. Gripped it tightly, despite the way their palms stuck together. Slick with his own blood. “Promise me that you — you won’t call.”

“I —”

“London!” Kayde’s voice broke as he begged, “Please.”

“Okay. I swear. No hospital. No doctor,” the words were toxic in London’s mouth. “Can I do anything else?”

A sour promise.

Kayde shook his head against the concrete floor, giving London’s hand a tight squeeze.

“It’d — it’d be fucking great if — if you didn’t kill me.”

London froze at Kayde’s words. Not kill him. More blood seeped over London’s hand. Dripped onto the floor beside Kayde.

“You’re setting me up for failure,” London muttered, doing his best to ignore the way Kayde’s eyes watered. Darted over London’s face, as though he couldn’t quite keep them focused. “Just stay awake. Just a bit longer. Yeah? I — I think I’ve almost got it.”

“Mhm,” Kayde only mumbled, “Okay.”

Kayde’s glazed over eyes told London everything he needed to know. The clammy skin. Heightened pulse.

“No. I’m calling someone,” London decided. A snap judgement. A full one-eighty. One that Kayde might well kill him for.

Incoherent argument. Jumbled curses as London relayed urgent information down the phone.

Twenty-something male. Knife wound penetrating the intercostal space between ribs seven and eight. Foreign object removed prior to treatment. Responsive. Semi-lucid. Active bleeding. Probably arterial. No difficulty breathing. Blood type A-negative. No known allergies.

Information that London was able to distance himself from. Block out Kayde entirely. He could be clinical on the phone with the operator. Because she wasn’t the one bleeding out at his knees.

She wasn’t the one asking to bleed out at his knees.

And Kayde couldn’t be Kayde right now. He could be bullet points of information on a list. London could manage that.

Only when he heard a siren in the distance, did London take a deep breath. Take chance to consider that, maybe, Kayde would scrape by with his life intact.

In just a few moments, the most naïve, short-lived, promise London had ever made would be over.

His trust with Kayde would be totalled and burning. More than the mere cosmetic damage of disagreements past.

But Kayde would be alive. And London would take all of the vitriol and spite that Kayde could throw at him, provided he stayed that way.

#Bad Things Happen Bingo #BTHB #Breaking a Promise #OC: Kayde de Angelis #OC: London Friar #WIP: Unnamed #whump #whump snippet #whumpee #caretaker #angst #mine #whump drabble #whumpblr #field medicine #stabbed

[vanne-whump]

whumptober day three

no. 3 - sticks and stones may break my bones but…

taunting | insults | “who did this to you?”

OCs: Kay Edwards, London Friar

Content: Injury Description, Past Trauma, Police Mention, Death Mention

He dried himself roughly, the towel rubbing his skin red. He dressed quickly in clothes borrowed from London, simply glad to be out of his blood-soaked garments.

Soaked with his blood. It had to be. At least it didn’t seem to be recent. Kay’s skin was void of open wounds, for what seemed like the first time in months.

Bruises, though — they dotted his skin like spilled watercolours. Over his side. Splotched under his right eye. Deeply-coloured — unforgiving.

Even after a shower, he looked a state. The short sleeves of the t-shirt bringing the uneven lettering on his arm into full view. The writing, with all of its uneven edges and wonky letters.

Even with the harsh visibility, nothing would convince Kay to change back into his own clothes.

Kay was silent, heading down the stairs and sitting on London’s couch. Finally showered, hair dripping cold water onto the borrowed shirt.

He could hear London in the kitchen. Doing — something. Kay wasn’t sure what. And he daren’t be ungrateful and ask.

Minutes later, London reappeared in the doorway. After Kay had spent almost an hour in the shower, he hadn’t expected for London to do this for him.

Even if it was just grilled cheese.

“Thank you — I needed that,” Kay smiled faintly, “A lot. I — uh — wasn’t sure where to put these,” he held up the dirty clothes, wrapped in the bath towel.

“The clothes? I don’t think you can salvage them.”

“Probably not…”

“You can put those in the trash, and the towel can go into the washer under the stairs.”

Kay nodded quickly, getting to his feet and slipping past London into the kitchen. He returned, moments later, empty handed and with his arms crossed loosely over his stomach

“You probably need something to eat — and to talk. Otherwise I’m not going to be able to be much help,” London said, with a soft bluntness, as he handed Kay the plate of grilled cheese.

“Talk? I — I’ve told you everything I know,” Kay evaded the question tactlessly.

“You said you were engaged — had a fiancée. What was her name?” London started, clinging to the one thing he already knew about Kay. It was a start.

“He — uh — he was called Halden.” Kay responded with his mouth full. “… Sorry.”

“So, Halden? Tell me about him?”

“I mean, he was great. We’d been dating a while and things were going well — last time I saw him was... uh... right before...” Kay trailed off vaguely.

“Where were you?”

“We were at a concert — Anarbor I think?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of them,” London nodded. Common ground. This is what they needed.

“We had plans to go away together. We had a deposit on a place in Salem,” Kay offered London a faint smile. “It would’ve been nice.”

“You were running away with him?” London’s brow furrowed. “Was that a good idea?”

“Obviously not!” Kay snapped. “Because something went wrong,” he smiled bitterly and shook his head. “Because I’m here, not —.”

He dragged his left hand through still-wet, still-tangled hair and let it fall limply at his side.

“Are we done? I — I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Sore topic, I get it,” London smiled faintly. And then he spotted the burns pressed unevenly into Kay’s arm. His understanding was stopped in its tracks.

And he wanted to continue the conversation — pretend he hadn’t seen the block letters. Pretend he wasn’t concerned. Pretending wasn’t something London did well.

“Kay? What the hell aren’t you telling me?” He snapped out his words before he had even a chance of restraint. “Who did that to you?”

“What? I — oh...” Kay trailed off once more. “It doesn’t matter. I — I’m not hiding anything. He — he let me go.”

“He? Who?”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I — I’m not dragging you into this too! It’s over. I’m sure it’s over.”

“Irrelevant,” London responded, reaching forward and picking up his cell from the table. “You need to start talking. Right now.”

“Halden — he got involved in some sketchy deals. But that’s it. I swear, I never did anything.”

“The guy that did this, who is he?”

“I don’t know! He — he only ever gave his first name!”

“What is it?”

“You have to promise that you’re not going to do anything.”

“What am I going to do with a first name?”

“Then why do you want it?”

London hissed out a sharp breath. “Just give me a name, Kay,” he sighed, “What’s his name?”

“Isaac.”

“Thank you. He did that?”

Kay nodded.

“Why?”

“Fun.”

“Fun?”

“He was just... like that,” Kay responded. “I don’t know why. He just — had something to prove, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kay nodded at the apology, though struggled to work out why. What was London apologising for?

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kay fumbled. “I think... I just — He wanted to get at Halden and I was an easy target. But he never made sense.”

“How do you mean?”

“Sometimes he wanted me to tell him where Halden was, and sometimes he wanted money. Sometimes he said that it was nothing to do with Halden. That it was my fault, or to do with my family. Or — I don’t know. It was different every time we talked.”

“Do you know anything else about him? Anything at all?”

Kay shook his head.

“Kay, please don’t lie to me.”

“He was a cop — but that’s it! That’s all I know.”

“You’re sure?”

Kay gritted his teeth and nodded. No more questions, please. He dared to hope that London was done asking. Done prying and pulling apart all of Kay’s secrets.

His hands shook as he put the empty plate down on the coffee table. Tears bit at his eyes as he waited for London’s next barrage of questions. They didn’t come. Just one singular question Kay didn’t have a coherent answer for.

“Why didn’t you go to the poli—”

London cut himself off as he answered his own question. Of course Kay didn’t want that.

“You still deserve justice.”

“I don’t want it. I just — maybe a couple of weeks to track down Halden, you know? Get on with my life. I don’t want to let Isaac win.”

“Win?”

“If — if I don’t — I — If he knows, he wins.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Kay just shook his head.

“No, Kay, I want to understand. What do you mean? Sit down and explain what you’re thinking.”

Kay slowly sat down on the couch, silent as London sat beside him. Silent until London prompted him again.

“So? Tell me, why will he win?”

“He’ll know he got to me. He — he’ll know he hurt me and — and that means — it — it means he got what he wanted,” Kay’s voice caught in his throat. “I — he can’t win like that. I — He took months from me and — and I can’t let him win too.”

“Okay, thank you for telling me. I mean that, thank you. Do you want to stay here tonight? I only have the couch but —”

“You’re sure?” Kay fumbled, interrupting London. “If you’re sure — I — I’d be really grateful,” he wiped tears from his cheeks. “If you’re absolutely sure.”

“I am. I’m completely sure. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you — for this, and the shower, and food — I don’t know what I would have done if — if you hadn’t...”

“Don’t worry about it — really. I’ve got the house to myself for a while. Vilde is away at the convention, and Ferris is tied up with classes for several weeks.”

“Vilde? Your girlfriend, I met her at the airport,” Kay nodded. “And Ferris? He’s your roommate?”

“Boyfriend. But he’s studying in North Carolina at the moment so we don’t see each other all that often.”

“You’re... with both of them?”

“Yeah, they know about each other. Vilde has a fiancé in Norway and he knows about me. It’s — It’s not underhanded.”

“No — I didn’t mean that, I just — didn’t know,” Kay shook his head. “That sounds kind of nice...”

“It is. You know, no pressure for them to fill each other’s every need. It’s unrealistic most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Kay agreed softly.

London could tell their conversation had hit a dead end — Kay was beginning to look like he was struggling to stay awake. Eyelids flickering closed, suppressing yawns and he just — just looked exhausted.

“Do you want to get some sleep? It might make you feel a bit better,” London offered. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, sleeping sounds... Nice.”

London gathered up their plates, slipping through into the kitchen. Leaving Kay alone. He took his time washing up, doing his best to process the information thrown at him. It felt impossible to make sense of all this. A lot of what Kay said made very little sense — all of his inconsistencies were difficult to ignore.

When London returned to the living room, Kay was already asleep. It was unsurprising. London grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and laid it over Kay. His attention was caught by track marks scattered up the kid’s arms.

It wasn’t something that would warrant waking Kay. Instead of making a big deal out of it, he just gave him the blanket and headed upstairs with his laptop. He left a very brief note on the coffee table, reading: 'Didn't want to wake you, I’m just upstairs. Let me know if you need anything.’

Once upstairs, London pushed aside a pile of textbooks and loose papers, before slumping down in the chair. He woke his computer, pulling up a blank internet browser. His fingers hovered over the keyboard until he typed in his first search term: ‘Kay Missing Persons’. It brought up pages and pages of information — information London didn’t have the patience to sift through.

London tried various combinations of words, an article finally came up in his search results. One that looked relevant, at least. It fit the timing, at least. The attached image sealed the deal. London stared at it, just to be sure. But it was Kay.

He looked younger — brighter — in the photo, but it was him. He was with someone else, too. The image was captioned with Halden’s name also.

London skimmed through the article, throat tightening as he read more — more about where Kay disappeared from, what people had seen, how he’d left with someone. A public video — as close to a hostage tape as you could get.

Morbid curiosity — London pressed play. It was only a clip, not even a minute long. But he couldn’t make it to the end. He closed the video and scrolled past, unnerved by the proof of Kay’s story.

When — before, there was doubt. Doubt that anything had happened. That Kay was telling the entire truth — or even that Kay remembered it correctly. But the video proved everything. The beginning of the next paragraph only worsened the deal.

“The body found was identified via dental records and DNA. The funeral will be a private event for close family only. The details have remained private.”

London read the last paragraph over and over. It didn't make sense. Whoever Kay had gotten tangled up with, they had pull. They were more dangerous than Kay had made them out to be. Or more dangerous than Kay realised.

Did Kay know about this? That, legally, he had died months prior? London wasn't about to be the one to break the news to him.

With Kay’s full name — Aeon Kaine Edwards — London pulled up a new search window. It took only moments to find a private Instagram account and public — very public — Facebook account. Seemingly endless photos of Kay and his fiancé. At events; promotions for a pharmaceutical company. And he looked happy.

Anything recent were posts from friends and family. Wishing him well. Rest in peace. Condolences to his family. The posts made for a chilling read.

He’d gotten sucked up into this. Too sucked up. All he’d wanted to do was verify that Kay was who he said he was. That seemed fair, right? That in itself hadn't been a problem, but one glance at the time told London that he was bordering on obsessive territory. He’d been trawling through articles and social media for hours.

He hadn't heard anything from Kay, so he guessed that he was still asleep. It wasn't like he didn't need it. London decided that he better get some sleep too. Tomorrow would be… difficult. How was he supposed to tell Kay any of this?

Anyone who had been in his life before would have moved on.

@whumptober2021 @whumptober-archive

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you? #oc #snippet #injury description #past trauma #police mention #death mention #OC: Kay Edwards #OC: London Friar #WIP: Lost in London #My Writing #whump blog #whump series #whumpblr #whump snippet #whumpee #caretaker #whump writing

[vanne-whump]

Hydrophobia

WIJ Day Eighteen: Support @whumpmasinjuly

OCs: Kay Edwards, London Friar

Content Warnings: Past Trauma, Drowning Mention

Sun was beating down on Kay’s already burned back as he sat by the tide pool, feet dangling in the water as he watched London swim laps. After the insistence that Kay wouldn't get into the water, because he didn’t want to, he had started counting laps for London.

Kay had counted seventy-four so far, but came to a stop when London swam across to him and caught hold of the concrete near where Kay had chosen to sit.

He looked up at Kay, with wet hair slicked back and droplets of seawater dripping over his soft features. The golden light emanating from behind Kay lit up London's face in a way that only made Kay love him more.

“You should get in, the water’s nice, I promise,” London mumbled, gaze tilted upwards to meet Kay’s eyes.

“Hm, yeah, I know, I’m okay just watching,” Kay responded half-heartedly. “Maybe a little later?”

London pushed himself up and out of the water, sitting beside Kay on the edge of the pool and leaned on him playfully.

“Come on, just do a lap with me and then I’ll leave you alone!” he glanced over to Kay and the grin returned to his face.

Kay just shook his head as he tried to come up with an acceptable excuse. “I didn’t bring a towel with me–” It was weak at best.

“You can share mine,” London reasoned. “Really, Kay, get in.”

Kay kicked his feet in the water as he tried to ignore London’s encouragement. What he couldn't ignore was London’s hand on his cheek, turning Kay’s head ever so slightly. Just enough to make Kay look at him.

“Is something wrong?” London finally asked, gently rubbing his thumb over Kay’s cheekbone. “If you’re not having fun, we can just go and get ice-cream?”

“It’s not that.”

“Kay, talk to me. What’s wrong? We can’t fix it if you won’t tell me what the problem is.”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

He didn’t want to do this, but London had asked. And he deserved to know. He had promised not to laugh and Kay knew by now that he would honour that.

“I never learned how to swim,” he confessed quietly, having returned his gaze to the pool, “I meant to, but it just never happened.”

“I’ll teach you,” London offered.

“It’s not just that. I – it’s ridiculous, I know, but when I was with Isaac...” Kay closed his eyes, the grip on the back of his neck holding him underwater until he no longer struggled, feeling stronger now than it did then. “He liked having power and he knew that I wasn’t the best in the water. He would hold me under.” Kay swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck, as if it would erase the memory.

“Kay... you didn’t have to come. If I knew –” London was cut off before he could finish his sentence.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.”

“I should have, though. I’m your boyfriend, I should know things like this about you,” London protested gently. “I want to know these kinds of things about you.”

“It’s not important. You know now.”

“Kay? Look at me?”

Kay did as he was asked, feeling London’s hand brush against his cheek again. He knew what London was asking and nodded. Slowly, London leant forward and kissed Kay. The salted kiss lasted mere moments, but it was more than enough.

“I’m not going to make you get in the water, ever, but if you want to, I’ll be here to support you. You know that, right?”

“I know... What if you get in first? I – I want to get over this. I can’t let him control me anymore,” Kay gritted his teeth and looked at the pool in front of him. “Promise that it’ll be okay?”

“I promise. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” London promised, shifting away from Kay and pushing himself back into the water, going under for a moment before coming up for air. He wiped the hair out of his face before finding his feet and offering his hands out to Kay.

Hesitantly, Kay took them, but didn't move from where he was sitting. London gave his hands a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

Kay was far more careful when he finally moved from the edge of the pool, keeping hold of London's hands for balance as he dropped into the water. He struggled to stay afloat, coughing as he inhaled droplets of seawater. London immediately helped him balance and put both his feet on the pool floor. One hand still laced with Kay’s, the other on his waist to steady him.

“How’s this? You okay?” London asked, concern flitting across his soft features.

“Yeah... yeah... this is okay,” Kay nodded.

London was quiet as he slowly released Kay from his grip, taking a step back, further into the pool. Almost instantly, Kay stumbled forward and grabbed hold of him.

“Don’t – Can you stay beside me?” He asked faintly. “I – I need you beside me.”

“Okay, don’t worry about it. I’m here for you. No matter what.”

Kay forced a smile and nodded. For a few minutes, he was silent until London spoke again.

“You’re doing amazing, this is really brave of you,” he murmured. “Do you want to get out?”

Kay nodded reluctantly. “It feels stupid of me. You’re not scared of anything and –“

“Not scared of anything?” London scoffed, beginning to guide Kay back to the edge of the pool. “Try snakes and heights. Pull yourself up?”

Kay leant backwards and pulled himself out of the water, exhaling sharply now the pressure around his chest was gone. It hadn’t been that bad. And London was right. Nothing bad had happened.

“Snakes?”

“Mhmm. How about we take a trip to a petting zoo? I’ll work on snakes, and you can work on water. So you don’t feel so alone?”

“You would do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

#whumpmasinjuly #wij #day eighteen #wij21day18 #OC: Kay Edwards #OC: London Friar #WIP: Lost in London #My Writing #whump community #whumpee #caretaker #drowning #facing fear #whump writing #whump #whump series

[whumpinparis]

Addiction BTHB — London

Content: Drug (cocaine) Withdrawal, Heroin Mention, Swearing

600 Words || London x Ferris || Lost in London

Can be read as a standalone piece written for @badthingshappenbingo​

Taglist: @comfort-after-hurt​ — Requests Open

London’s pencil eraser hit the table and made a fiercely repetitive noise as he tapped it. Desperate to concentrate. To drag his focus back to the case at hand. Flecked bloodied tissues littered the table and nearby carpet and a broken gin bottle lay beside the coffee table.

“Can you shut the fuck up? Please?” London snapped at Ferris. His only crime had been closing the door to their apartment. Ferris had done nothing — felt no reason for the sudden accusations. Just closed the apartment door behind him. Hooked the latch over. Made no noise.

“What is with you today?” Ferris muttered as he shook his head.

“Nothing is ‘with me’, but thanks for your concern.” Uncharacteristic rudeness.

Ferris’ expression hardened slightly, draped in suspicion as London’s irritability clicked alarmingly into place. The tissues, the immediate defensiveness and London’s tousled appearance. Remnants of blood droplets dried onto the crumpled collar of his white button up shirt. It painted a grim picture.

“What did you do? You fell off again, didn’t you?” Ferris’ tone held more sadness than anger. “This is the third time this month! You can’t just—”

“Can’t just, what?” London yelled back, getting up from the dining table and turning to Ferris. “What can’t I do?” A shaking hand dragging over his face — wiping over blue-eyed exhaustion and through knotted blond hair

“This! You can’t keep doing this, London!”

“I’m doing good — I’m fine. If you had just been quiet —”

“I opened the door to our apartment,” Ferris adamantly refuted it. “You need some serious help.”

“I said I’m fine,” London gritted his teeth. “Do you not believe me? Think I’m lying?”

“No. I don’t believe you!” Ferris threw his sweater onto the grey couch. “I know you’re trying — I know that you’re doing your best. But it’s not enough any more! What if you get arrested? Do you really believe that the disciplinary board will overlook another complaint about you? Another drug charge?” Ferris was beginning to raise his voice. A shake of his head — a harshly sympathetic gaze.

“No. I don’t. I think they’ll take my license and fucking fire me,” London tossed a glance at Ferris and smiled faintly. “And I’ll agree with them. Least I deserve for being a fucking junkie, right?”

He stood up to pace — feet pounding softly against the floor. London spun the pencil in his hands, abruptly stopping in his tracks as the pencil dropped onto the vaguely teal carpet.

“Don’t be like that, we’ve been over this.”

“Have we? Really? Because obviously you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you,” Ferris reassured him sharply. “I trust you. Just not about this. You need more help than I can give you.”

“What are you suggesting? Rehab? Holistic fucking therapy? Or something new this time? I’m not shooting up or anything. It’s under control. Besides, I’m doing well. Six hours and all I can think about is another hit. And, you know what? I haven’t. I’m doing fine.”

“It isn’t — you’re not! Do you even hear yourself?”

“I do. Just — just keep rehab out of the picture. I got clean before — I was for years! I’ll get there again. Without help,” London’s words grated against his teeth as he turned away to go into the kitchen. “If you hate it — me — that much, maybe we should break off the engagement. I’m not in the mood to talk about this right now, you’ve given me a killer headache.”

“London—,” Ferris couldn’t figure out how to respond.

“Don’t interrupt me — I’m fine, working on a case. In court tomorrow.”

London rummaged through the medication cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Advil. He poured several pills into his hand and took them. Swallowed dry.

“Don’t worry, though, babe, I’m not snorting coke in our kitchen,” his tone was sarcastic as he addressed Ferris. Blunt. Not quite London’s voice.

“London—,” Ferris was at a loss. “Please see someone. We can’t keep doing this.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” London corrected bitterly. “And that’s not my problem. If you’re not happy with it, leave.”

#my ocs #london friar #ferris michael #lost in london #bad things happen bingo #bthb #whump #drug use cw #cocaine cw #heroin cw #swearing cw #whump blog #whump drabble #my writing #whump ficlet #addiction/withdrawal #addiction cw

[whumpinparis]

London Friar, Kidnapping BTHB.

My OCs / Approx. 1000 words.

Content Warnings: Alcohol | Homophobic Slurs | Blood | Manhandling | Kidnapping | Guns | Tasing. @badthingshappenbingo​. Thank you to @myships4ever​ for beta reading and reassuring me on this one even though I let it sit in my docs for weeks

Part Two (Hostage Video) Will Be Linked HERE When Complete.

Vibrant nightlife buzzed around London and Ferris as they walked. Hand in hand past bright bars, intoxicated patrons spilling out onto the wide sidewalk. Ferris’ head was leaning against London’s shoulder as they walked, intertwined with each other.

“Should we get back to the hotel?” Ferris asked. “It’s the first night and it feels unfair for Kay to be alone.”

“Hm? No, it’s okay, he said he’d call if he needed us, he’d be so aggravated if we went back on his account,” London responded.

“We can just drink at the hotel minibar, at least then you can spend some time with him as well.”

“Relax! It’s fine, Kay is fine alone for a while, and we’re in Vegas for three weeks,” London said, leaning into Ferris slightly. “Come on, choose a bar or something,” he gestured to what looked like an entire street of them, “I’ll buy the first round.”

London twisted awkwardly and kissed Ferris’ neck before making a gesture to one of the bars across the street. The neon name above the door read ‘Icarus’. Ferris nodded in agreement at the choice, though seemed uninvested in it.

He would relax after a few drinks. Once he realised that Kay was fine in the hotel alone, Ferris would be able to have more fun.

And that was exactly what happened. Two and a half drinks later, he had loosened up. London understood his concerns – of course he did – but Kay had insisted they go out while he slept off a headache. It would only come off as overprotective if London ignored him. He knew by now that Kay wouldn't stand for that.

“I’m just gonna go and get some air, okay? You coming?” London had to raise his voice to address Ferris over the pounding music. He got a nod in response. They paid their extortionate tab and left together, dodging past a crowd of people by the exit.

London couldn't help himself, pulling Ferris along beside him as they walked and ducking into the first quiet alley they came across. London gently pushed Ferris against the cleanest wall, kissing him almost hesitantly.

“This okay?” He mumbled, “Want me to stop?”

“Mhm – it’s fine,” Ferris responded, beginning to reciprocate the kiss. “You know that you don't have to ask every time.”

“I do,” London responded, both of his hands on the back of Ferris’ neck, only moving away from the kiss to speak. “I want you to enjoy it too.”

Ferris nodded, quietly allowing London to kiss his neck, along his collarbones and up under his chin.

“Still okay?”

“Yeah…”

Then everything shattered.

London was dragged back violently and shoved to the ground. He yelled out in protest, catching himself with his hands as he spun around to see his attacker.

London made an urgent gesture for Ferris to get out of the way as he tried to push himself to his feet, the skin on his palms breaking as he pushed them down on the concrete and broken glass. Ferris had moved by now, further into the alley. He had no choice but to watch what was going on with an expression of panic smothering his features.

That was fine, London could deal with this. By now, he was back on his feet and able to look his attacker mostly in the eyes. Two or three inches taller than him. Dark hair. Heavily built.

“Do you need something?” London asked mildly, hating how his tone wavered.

“Yeah, actually,” the man responded. “I’m gonna need you to come with me, fucking faggot.”

London shook his head in confusion. “Me? You’ve got the wrong guy,” he protested, glancing at where Ferris was fumbling for his cell in his pocket. Didn't look like he could find it. When it looked like Ferris was going to speak, London raised a bloodied hand to try and quiet him. He could talk his way out of… out of whatever this was.

“No, I don’t ‘have the wrong guy’,” the man scoffed, unholstering a handgun from his side and carelessly waving it in Ferris’ direction. “You’re gonna need to meet your boyfriend back at your hotel later, got it?”

London nodded hesitantly. “I’ll go with you, but let Ferris walk out of here right now.”

“Done. Go,” he gestured to Ferris, who then glanced at London for reassurance. At London’s hasty nod, he moved, stumbling past them and back out into the street. London hadn't realised how drunk his boyfriend was. It was better that he wasn’t here.

“What do you want?” He asked bluntly, chin upturned.

“Not up to me,” the man gave a nonchalant shrug and glanced to the side as a woman approached them, hand in her jeans pocket. “Sara is far more qualified.”

London gritted his teeth and stole a glance at the woman. Green skin tight halter neck. Gold heels that wrapped around her calves, almost delicately. London might have been impressed by her.

He pushed himself up to his feet, flinching as gravel dug into a cut on his hand. The woman walked with confidence, stopping several metres from them. She waited until she had both of their attention before speaking.

“Friar, right?”

London nodded.

“Excellent. You need to come with us. Quietly.”

“No. Tell me what you want.”

“Now, that would be no fun, would it?”

London stood his ground, making no movement away from the wall.

“So, Friar, are you going to come quietly?”

London shook his head. “Not until you tell me what you want. After that, I’ll cooperate.”

“Your cooperation isn't necessary,” Sara stated, before a vague hand gesture was sent London’s way.

Before a look of confusion could cross his features, London doubled over in pain. He let out a cry as electricity pulsed violently into his ribs.

Then it stopped.

A strangled gasp as it was repeated. A quiet pleading that London thought might have been him filtered through the dizzying silence.

Then, nothing, as London crumpled to the concrete.

#london friar #ferris michael #sara #bad things happen bingo #my ocs #kidnapping #taser #homophobia tw #alcohol tw #whump #angst #whumper #caretaker #whumpee #obedient whumpee #whump drabble #whump ficlet #lost here in london #collapse #My writing #whump community #hurt/comfort #h/c #polyamory

[whumpinparis]

Kay & London + fears

Kay:

He never learned how to swim and is scared of any deep water body. Isaac also had something to do with this. It’s something he’s working through, though.

Kay says he’s not afraid of the dark, but it’s not much of a secret that he is. London doesn’t bring it up, allowing Kay to think he doesn’t know.

Going under anaesthetic is also a huge fear for Kay. Isaac used sedatives often and the thought of losing consciousness or becoming otherwise inebriated is terrifying for Kay. As a result, he doesn’t drink or use drugs. Even sleeping pills are tough for him to take if he needs them.

Despite struggling, London is helping him work through it (starting with Hydrophobia).

London:

He’s never held a snake and doesn’t plan to, unless it’s to help Kay, which he’s really hoping won’t have to happen, but he will if it helps.

London is also afraid of heights, though this is a relatively normal fear in comparison to some of Kay’s. Claustrophobia also falls into this ‘normal’ category, but it’s nowhere near as serious.

He is also majorly afraid of failure. His job depends on him doing well and there are real life consequences for others if he messes up.

Relapse is a terrifying idea for London. He’s worked hard to get to where he is and the idea of relapsing back into drug use is almost impossible for him to deal with.

#whump #whump community #whump blog #whumpee #my ocs #kay edwards #london friar #ask game #drugs tw #drug use tw #phobias #fears

[whumpinparis]

OC Masterpost:

Lost Here in London: [ Masterlist ]

— Aeon Kaine "Kay" Edwards

Whumpee

[ Kay Masterlist ]

— London Friar

Caretaker

[ London Masterlist ]

— Halden Gallows-Gerwig

Whumper

— Isaac Alcartez

Whumper

— Ferris Michael

Secondary Caretaker

[ Ferris Masterlist ]

ORNATE: [ Masterlist ]

– Alistair Malcolm

Whumper

[ Alistair Masterlist ]

– Det. Reid Langdon

Reluctant Whumper / Caretaker

– Elliot Pierce

Whumpee

[ Elliot Masterlist ]

– Lennox (Lux) Silver

Whumpee

– Chase Desmond Nicholls

Whumpee

No WIP:

— Paris Matthews / Elswood

Whumpee

[ Paris Masterlist ]

— Austin James McKinley

Whumper

– Aiden Jett Duvall

???

– Avery (Aves) ??

Whumpee

#my ocs #kay #kay edwards #london #london friar #paris #paris matthews #paris elswood #austin #austin mckinley #halden #isaac #isaac alcartez #ferris #ferris michael #whumpee #whump community #my oc #whumper #caretaker #masterlist #masterpost

[whumpinparis]

London Friar Masterlist

Lost in London

Novel (Draft One): Wattpad

Novel (Draft One): AO3

Oneshots / Prompts:

Chapter One

• Addiction BTHB

• Don’t You Dare Pity Me BTHB

• Reclamation

• Hydrophobia BTHB

Whumpee!London AUs:

• Kidnapping BTHB

Misc. AUs:

• College AU

• Coffee Shop AU: Caramel Cream

• Lost in London x ORNATE

Additional Content:

• Kay x London x Ferris Palette

• London and Kay Moodboards

• London’s Spotify Playlist

#masterlist #masterpost #london #london friar #my oc

[whumpinparis]

Whump + H/C Taglist:

I'm finally working on a taglist for my whump WIPs on Tumblr! Summaries are located below or in THIS SurveyMonkey link.

To be added to any taglist, either DM me on here or Discord (savanne#1168) or fill in the survey in the previous paragraph!

If you want to read any content from specific WIPs before adding yourself, there’s already some content for most of them up on my blog!

— — —

Lost in London:

OCs: Kay Edwards, Ferris Michael, London Friar, Isaac Alcartez, Halden Gallows-Gerwig, Chloe Levesque, Cody AuClair, Vilde Larson

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Plot: Lost in London follows Kay, who got tangled up in his fiancé’s wrongdoings at age seventeen. After making a deal he doesn’t remember, he ends up near the France-Luxembourg border and meets London. London is in law school and aiming to qualify as a lawyer while he helps Kay get his life back on track and gets much more involved than he initially planned. Even years later, London is helping Kay navigate his life when his fiancé shows up and threatens everything they built for themselves in his absence.

ORNATE:

OCs: Elliot/Zander Pierce, Lennox Silver, Chase Nicholls, Alistair Malcolm, Reid Langdon, Eve Knight, Brooke Rose

Genre: Whump, Romance, Crime

Plot: After heading up a taskforce to catch a suspected human trafficker, Detective Reid Langdon is forced to seduce Alistair Malcolm to have any chance at getting a confession. Things go sour as Langdon is reeled further into Alistair’s game with the chance of escaping dwindling daily. ORNATE follows Langdon’s ever-evolving relationship with Alistair and his slow realisation that he’s turned into the very person he hates the most.

Dead Weight:

OCs: Cameron/Devin/Eden/Phoenix Hawthorne, Sterling Lauderdale, Stella Whitaker, Christian Delancey, Pierce Lawson, Nadine Hughes

Genre: Whump, Psychological Thriller

Plot: Cameron is your typical rich kid runaway. After becoming desperate for cash, he gets involved in an underground fighting ring. For almost two years, there were no issues. Then, the club was taken over by new management. After being coerced into signing his life away, Cameron is left completely at the disposal of his new handler. His life spirals out of his own control, the commands he follows becoming more twisted and sadistic with each passing day.

Masochist’s Lullaby:

OCs: Cherri, Riley, Yves

Genre: Angst, Whump, Romance, Thriller, NSFW

Plot: Cherri stumbled across the world of online camming just three months ago. It was calm vanilla at first — fascinating to watch men and women alike. The further down the rabbit hole Cherri went, the more excitement this online world seemed to be hiding. The more risk — more appeal. He told himself that he’d try it. A week, no more. His taste of these so-called live-streams only grew. The insatiable masochism was discovered shortly after, with Cherri dragging himself further and further into his online lifestyle.

Volucris:

OCs: Avery Henderson, LindsayDeMartino, Nia, Aisha Stewart

Genre: Whump, Thriller, Vague Sci-Fi

Plot: Avery sees himself as a saint — doing everything he can to help others. Participating in scientific research studies is perfect for that. Until he meets Dr. Lindsay DeMartino, an eager researcher who wants Avery on board for her newest project. Despite declining, Avery is forced into participation, ending up as Lindsay’s lab rat. A human pincushion. Lindsay’s most prominent experiment? Feathered wings grafted onto Avery’s back. Avery is the perfect guinea pig — eager to help Lindsay with her research. Right up until she finds someone more suited for further research and Avery is no longer needed.

Bloody Valentine:

OCs: Paris Matthews, Austin McKinley

Genre: Whump, Vampire Romance

Plot: Austin works alone, selling his services as a deep web hitman while continuing to cover his vampiric life on the side. He offers a cheap and discrete service based in the United States. It’s an ideal setup until a close call with DNA evidence leaves him in need of a new food source. Paris is the ideal target — a junkie who has long since gone off of the rails. Entitled rich kid living off his college trust fund. Unmissable. Austin takes an immediate liking to Paris, entwining him in a friendship before luring him out of town. He forced Paris to stay in an abandoned prison morgue as he forces sobriety onto his victim.

I’m so sorry this post is so long but I couldn’t add a cut on this one because Tumblr kept eating it

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