Scribbles and Drabbles

Mini Drabbles B

Hell house Drabble

He should have worn a coat. The day had started bright and then turned dark and stormy as the day ticked on. His jeans were soaked, rubbing uncomfortably as he moved, and his shirt was no better. He leaned against a wall, positioned as best he could to avoid the waves of rain attacking him. It didn't take long for him to give up and duck back into a coffee shop for shelter.

Checking his phone, no one had messaged him. He grimaced and wiped a bead of water running down his forehead. 

Posers and fakers, the lot of them. He threw himself on a chair and texted middle fingers in the group chat. Getting time off to do this had been a nightmare. For them to flake without telling him was beyond shitty. 

They were going to a Haunted House to drink and smoke. It wasn't that deep, but it had been so fucking long. He wanted a night of silliness to relax like old times before the job became a thing to worry about. 

"You ordering, Love?"

Coffee in hand, drier and warmer, Jonathon relaxed on the sofa and tried not to break his phone with how often he tapped on his phone, waiting for a response from his shithead friends. 

"Cool your shit, Jons."

"Bitch," he growled, standing and bumping shoulder on his best friend and former partner in crime. 

Traitor's Protection [noncon]

Seeing Cashe alive hit harder than Hemlock would ever admit. Hemlock expected Montauk to kill him. Pixel would hate him for failing to save Cashe, but Cashe's suffering would have been quick. Hemlock could ensure that. Cashe had suffered enough in his time to be spared the pain of slavery to the people his parents enslaved. 

Alive? Things got complicated. If he was on the slave market, Hemlock needed to get him, appearance be damned. If Cashe trusted him, he'd capture him easily. The market didn't run on credits alone; more than one person was deemed owned by simple trust and devotion. 

People didn't like it when the people they'd moulded into place got stolen. As much as Fawkes liked his credits, he also liked breathing. 

"Hem?" Vortex asked as Hemlock left his side to cut through to Cashe. Hemlock waved at him unconcerned. Vortex had his fair share of pets. He'd understand the need to claim one fast before the market announced their contract for sale. The crowd shifted around Hemlock, no one wanting to get a pinch from his needles.

Cashe locked eyes on him as people moved and trembled. They were filled with fear and desperation, and the tiniest glints of hope as Hemlock sat on the ground next to him. Cashe didn't talk but didn't move from Hemlock's hands. He took Cashe's hands and studied them. The longer he stayed quiet, the smaller Cashe curled. The urge to bully and torment itched at the back of Cashe's teeth. 

Pixel loved Cashe a lot. Hemlock wanted to bite into his soft flesh and make him scream. He also wanted to bury him in the back of his den and hide him from the other predators. And feed him to Montauk's loving attention, as selfish as that sounded. Montauk planned to enjoy Pixel once they had him in their grasp, so why not enjoy his pretty little lover? 

Hemlock kissed Cashe's bruised and bloody knuckles, swiping his tongue over the blood. Cashe didn't move from him and met the big, blue, scared eyes. 

"Surviving Cashe?"

"Breathing," Cashe coaked, eyes flicking to their watchers, terrified but speaking.