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knivestothroats · 3 days ago

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The Professionals - Dreamcatcher

The Professionals masterlist || In The Woods Somewhere masterlist || Professional//Victim masterlist Not a lot of content warnings on this one. Just someone makes gross sexual comments.

Tommy made sure there were no trainees around before he approached Fletcher. They were sitting by the window with a book and a drink.

“Would it be alright… if I, um… slept in your room again?” Tommy asked.

“Why?”

Fletcher’s tone had a flat sort of quality Tommy was becoming familiar with. It wasn’t monotone, but it portrayed an unimpressed lack of interest that gave it an almost challenging quality, forcing the other speaker to explain and prove themselves worthy of Fletcher’s attention.

Tommy deflated a little. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he asked. Maybe a blunt no, maybe mockery. An easy yes would be a surprise, but it didn’t seem so impossible as to prevent him from trying.

“You have the dreamcatcher,” he answered.

Fletcher had been raising their drink to their lips, and it paused for a beat on its journey up. They took a sip, contemplated, and asked, “Do you think it works?”

“Well…” Tommy had only slept beneath it once, but he hadn’t woken up with his heart pounding in a cold sweat. “Do you? It’s in your room.”

Fletcher took another sip, then set their drink down, looking out the window.

“It’s supposed to catch the nightmares before they get into your dreams. And then they’re destroyed when the sun comes up,” Fletcher said. They looked back at Tommy. “Unfortunately, I think the call is coming from inside the house on this one. But, more to the point - you really want to sleep in the same bed as me?”

Tommy nodded, picking at his nails nervously.

Fletcher tapped their thumb against the open page of their book. “Okay.”

Tommy lit up. “Really?”

Fletcher shrugged. “It’s fine, as long as you… aren’t weird about it.”

Tommy nodded enthusiastically, even though he wasn’t quite sure what Fletcher counted as acting “weird.”

It became a more common occurrence.

Tommy tried not to push it, and would space it out with enough nights sleeping in his own bed. But although it was better than his basement room, it always felt cold and lonely. To have the warmth and contact of another person, even someone as dangerous and volatile as Fletcher, offered enough comfort to ease him to sleep.

Plus, frankly, Fletcher had a more comfortable bed.

Fletcher would never admit that they liked the arrangement. They had to act, every time, like they were thinking it over and then agreeing to allow it.

It started out the same. Fletcher would lay on one side, facing away from Tommy. Tommy would wait on his side, and after what he hoped was enough of a delay - although the wait got a little shorter every time - he would scoot over until some part of him was brushing up against Fletcher.

Fletcher would wake up at some point during the night, always a restless sleeper. They would turn and wrap their arm around Tommy, holding him close, and fall back asleep.

Fletcher would wake up first, disentangle themself, get out of bed, and then wake Tommy up to kick him out of their room.

In their mind, they were getting away with it; that Tommy never knew how Fletcher would hold him in the night.

It was probably naive to think that he never woke up and noticed. But when you’re half-asleep and comfortable, those things don’t really seem to matter.

And if Tommy did know, he was wise enough never to let on. And that would have to do.

Fletcher was meal prepping in the kitchen when one of the trainees approached them. His surname was Williams, but people called him Billy. He had a douchey, jock, fratboy vibe that probably would’ve led Fletcher to get into a fistfight with him in their young punk years. Very, “my daddy was in the military and I inherited the violence and the self-aggrandizement but not the discipline.” But, Fletcher was a mature adult now, or whatever, and they weren’t going to stoop to petty fights with their students. It’s not like this line of business attracted many socially well-adjusted individuals.

They did, however, call him Willy sometimes, because they could tell it annoyed him.

Billy leaned against the counter casually, folding his arms across his chest.

“That Tommy’s pretty cute,” he said.

“Mm? Got a little crush going, Billy?” Fletcher said without looking up.

“More like a boner.”

Fletcher wrinkled their nose. “Okay. TMI. You just hit puberty or something?”

“He any good in the sack?”

“Why the fuck would I know that?”

“C’mon,” Williams snickered. “I know how much time he spends in your room at night. I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable.”

“Can anyone take him for a spin, or are you keeping him all to yourself?” Williams asked.

Fletcher didn’t answer right away, continuing to focus on their food prep.

“You know, it’s wise to know what you’re talking about before you talk at all,” they said.

Williams paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not fucking him, and neither are you.” They turned to face Williams. “And I don’t like that you think you know what goes on with me. You don’t know shit. You’re making bold fucking claims, and that’s the kind of shit that gets you in trouble.”

“Well, what else could you be doing?”

“I could explain.” Fletcher turned back to their work.

Williams waited. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to explain?”

“Why the fuck should I?” Fletcher said. “I don’t care about you enough.”

He scoffed. “Then I’m going to keep on believing what I said.”

“Sure,” Fletcher shrugged. “Cling to information I told you was wrong. No flaws in that plan. We love purposeful ignorance. Stay stupid - gangs need dumb grunts to do the shit work.”

Williams pushed off from the counter with a scoff. “Fuck you,” he muttered, beginning to stomp off.

Fletcher dropped their knife on the cutting board.

“Hey, Williams.”

He stopped and looked back. Fletcher gestured him over.

Once he was close enough, Fletcher punched him in the nose. He groaned in surprise and pain, clutching his face.

“Fuck you,” Fletcher said back. They returned to their work.

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

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

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @pretty-face-breaker @thesuffererrrr

#i'm being way too nice in all my updates #the professionals #writings #original

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victimeyez · 25 days ago

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Collared

The Professionals Masterlist - an In The Woods Somewhere x Professional//Victim crossover AU

Fletcher's home provides more freedom than Tommy is used to, but with new freedoms comes new temptations to disobey.

Tommy’s relationship with his collar changed from day to day now. He was overjoyed when Fletcher finally removed his old collar. The clink of the lock against metal haunted him, and sometimes he still swore he could hear it.

Fletcher replaced it with a new collar, a simple leather piece. They gave it to him in a white box, sat atop crinkly tissue paper. They pulled it out, showed it to Tommy, and then beckoned for him to take it.

“Do you lock this one in the front?” Tommy asked, staring at it in his hands.

“No lock.”

Tommy should have felt happy. Instead, he just felt an uncomfortable drop in his stomach.

“You’re not locking it? At all?” Tommy asked, trying not to sound too petulant.

“No... But I think you’ll find it in your best interest to keep it on.” Fletcher's voice was cool, but Tommy heard the implied threat.

He rubbed the leather between two fingers. It was very sturdy, but also soft.

“Put it on.”

Tommy looked up at Fletcher in surprise. Put it on himself? And unlocked? It felt very strange. A funny part of him felt that Fletcher was doing this all wrong.

Fletcher folded their arms and waited.

“Are we going to have a problem here?”

Fletcher’s voice was calm and dangerous. Tommy swallowed uncomfortably.

They want you to voluntarily submit to their control.

He already felt naked without his other collar. He slipped it around his neck and fastened it, a little clumsily.

“Good choice,” Fletcher told him.

It wasn’t long before he needed to shower. He felt uncomfortable showering here, where he could not lock the door against the trainees staying at the lodge, but he needed to get clean. Tommy undressed and looked at himself in the mirror, inspecting some healing cuts and bruises he’d been marked with. He started the water before he realized he was wearing the leather collar now, and it probably was not waterproof like his last one. He sighed and stopped the water, redressing so he could venture out to find Fletcher.

It took a few minutes, since the lodge was big, and Tommy did not dare call for them. He checked the usual places, but Fletcher was nowhere to be found. Tommy finally settled on asking the students mingling in the kitchen.

He stood by the counter nervously, fumbling with his hands. It was still embarrassing for him to interact with them, and he avoided it as much as possible. Fletcher had not explained anything to them, they just saw that Tommy did whatever Fletcher asked. Fletcher was not hesitant to punish him in front of them either, so they were well aware of their dynamic. Even if they hadn’t, he was bound by the bulky tracker around his ankle, and the collar around his throat.

He’d tried to cover it with a bandana once. As soon as Fletcher saw it, they gave him a dangerous look.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Tommy immediately backpedaled, pulling it off quickly and stuffing it in his pocket.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Fletcher said sternly, but Tommy caught the little smirk that graced their lips as they turned away. He did not try to cover it again.

The students’ conversation paused for a moment as they looked to him.

“Hello, um, has anyone seen where Fletcher is?” Tommy hated how his voice sounded so meek, but any normal social skills he’d had before were long gone. Both students looked to each other, each waiting to see if either spoke up.

“No idea. Do you need to go outside? Maybe get taken for a walk?” Caldera spoke up, her voice filled with faux-sympathy. She wore a mean little grin. Tommy was less than enthused about living with a revolving group of sadists and apaths throughout the year.

“I think I saw them headed to the basement a little while ago, you could check there,” Barlowe suggested helpfully. Tommy swallowed. He wasn’t allowed in the basement alone. He’d have to wait until Fletcher reemerged to get his collar removed.

“Okay, thank you,” he murmured, and shuffled back to the bathroom to remove his change of clothes. He had hoped to get in before someone else used up all the hot water, but he might still get lucky, depending.

He waited around for a while, settling in to watch some television with another trainee. It felt too bold to sit on the couch beside them, so he sat on the ground with his back against the couch. They were watching some show about fairytale characters in a live-action world, but he had a hard time keeping up with it.

Finally Fletcher reappeared, and Tommy saw them passing through the nearby hallway. He hurried to catch up, scared to lose them again.

“Fletcher, hey, um - “

Fletcher stepped into their room, but turned to look at Tommy as they started pulling various odds and ends from their pockets onto their bed. Tommy hovered by the door.

“Is it okay if I take a shower?”

Fletcher rolled their eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you do not have to ask permission for this stuff, just do it.”

“No, yeah, I understand, I just wanted to see if you could remove my collar first?”

Fletcher sat on the edge of their bed.

“Get my boots off.”

Tommy obliged. It felt weird to be in Fletcher’s room, but he wasn’t about to argue. He kneeled to untie Fletcher’s boots, and loosened the laces so he could slide them off without pulling too hard. Once he was done, he tilted his head up to expose his neck. Fletcher shook their head.

“No, it’s not locked. I need you to make the right choices to take it off only when you have to, and I expect you to put it back on right away. Do you understand?”

Tommy tugged a few strands of his hair anxiously. “Yeah, I - if you’re sure, then yes, I’ll do that, I guess.” It felt like a trap, but he didn’t want to disagree.

“Okay then. Go clean yourself up.” Fletcher pointed out the door, and out Tommy went.

Once he was back in the bathroom, he fidgeted with the collar. Caius had always been very clear that he wasn’t even supposed to touch it, much less remove it. If he didn’t, though, Fletcher would probably just lock it on again, right? Tommy sighed and fingered the strap to it, hesitantly undoing the buckle and taking it off.

His neck was scarred from the barbed hooks that had secured his old one in place. He was grateful the new collar covered those marks, at least. He ran his fingers over the thick callus-like swells of scar tissue, trying to minimize them by pushing down on them with the pads of his fingers, but it never went anywhere.

Showering without the collar felt foreign. He’d long gotten used to soaping his hands and pushing fingers up underneath the band, cleaning as best as he could around it. Now nothing was in the way, and he felt the trickle of water on his throat in a way that felt new and a bit ticklish. It was very relaxing.

He shut off the water before he’d dawdled for too long, and drying himself with the towel felt foreign as well when he rubbed his neck. He redressed, toweling off his hair as well as he could, and was about to leave when he saw his collar lying on the counter still.

He felt a bit naked without it, having been attached to his body for so long. A part of him wanted to eschew it, destroy it, a silent protest.

You are being tested. Don’t fail - Fletcher is just hoping you will.

He sighed and wrapped it around his neck, opened the buckle and adjusted the placement to fit snugly, but without discomfort. Caius had threatened to weld a collar onto him before, and Tommy didn’t need to be threatened by his new master as well. He still felt a familiar pang of shame sometimes when he saw it, but what could he do? Resisting would result in the same outcome, only worse.

Caius was still right about that.

Tommy buckled it in place, turning it to sit straight on his neck. He’d be better off considering any ideas of freedom from it as moot. Truly, he wasn’t even sure how he would feel if he didn’t have to wear it. He just knew he had to show Fletcher that he would cooperate - for better or for worse.

It was an unseasonably warm day to be working outside.

It was a wet heat, and working in it had Tommy dripping with sweat. He wiped his forehead for the millionth time and stretched his back out, achy from being hunched over the plants for so long. Fletcher was inside where it was cool, entrenched in a lesson. They would call Tommy if they needed him, but so far he’d been left to his chores.

He tugged on his collar, trying to get a little air on his skin. It was too hot to be wearing leather, and his face was flushed and overheated.

It suddenly occurred to him that he could take it off. Fletcher was inside, maybe a hundred feet away, and probably wouldn't notice if he removed his collar for a bit. Even if they did, he’d hear them coming and have a chance to reattach the collar.

The idea tempted him. It would be so nice just to get a little break from it, and he could just throw it back on later, right? He started to feel for the buckle with his hands, circling the collar twice before he found it.

He hesitated on it, fiddling with the metal along his thumb nervously. What if Fletcher did spot him? What if he forgot to put it back on? What if he dropped or lost his collar while he moved around the yard? So far, he’d shown Fletcher that he was willing - but Fletcher had kind of put it up to his discretion, right?

Tommy started to pull at the strap and then hesitated. He sighed, and flicked it back into place. Who was he kidding? It couldn’t be worth the potential fallout if Fletcher didn’t approve. Would he be punished? Worse, would he be put back in his old collar?

He wiped the sweat from his brow and threw back half his water bottle before picking up his tools again. It wasn’t worth it. Once again, he would just have to endure.

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

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

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @aqua-blogging @utopian819 @whumpinggoodtime @pretty-face-breaker @inpainandsuffering

#captive whumpee #the professionals #professional//victim #in the woods somewhere #collared whumpee #scars

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leona-florianova · 19 days ago

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The Professionals (1977)

*so they are on tv yet again...

**also while looking for references I stumbled upon this [X]article about the show and..what a great read.

#my art #sketches #the professionals #doyle #bodie #their smug aura mocks me #it named the professionals and every episode they do so much unprofessional stuff... its great #completely silly #the professionals 1977

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signorinaclaudiacardinale · 7 months ago

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Claudia Cardinale in "LIFE" magazine:

Italian beauty takes a desert bath on location in Nevada. /In this photo Claudia was filming "The Professionals" on July 8, 1966/

Claudia Cardinale, a wary beauty is afraid Hollywood will ruin her. Claudia Cardinale has a problem. At 26 she has become the most admitted international film star since Sophia Loren. Lusciously built along Italian lines, like Sophia, Claudia also has a special tender beauty in her face. Easy to work with, she is a director's pet. Unmarried, she has no close family worries. So what's her problem? Her problem is, now that she has finally agreed to work in Hollywood, she is afraid she will be over-glamorized and exploited-as Sophia was. Her first Hollywood movie, the recent 'Blindfold', confirms Claudia's worst fears of her. And she has two more coming up soon. Between Hollywood chores, she rushes away to make films in Italy, Spain, Brazil, anywhere but Hollywood. She gets paid less in Europe. "If I have to give up the money, I give it up," she insists, "I don't want to become a cliché."

She'd rather lose money than be a cliché In high spirits at being out of Hollywood and back in Italy, Claudia stopped her car to join villagers who had shouted "Claudia, Claudia", Then they all joined their favorite star for a picture.

Claudia likes the sun of Italy more than of Hollywood. Always rushing from one picture into another, she grabs five minutes to back on her Hotel Excelsior Lido balcony in Venice.

Anthony Quinn, who has acted with both Claudia and Sophia says: "I adore them equally But if I had to say, well, I relate easier to Claudia; Sophia creates an impression of something unobtainable but Claudia-She's not easy, still she's within reach".

Helping pick Miss Italy, Claudia lunches with each judges at Salsomaggiore. She got her own movie start by winning a rather specialized contest as "Most beautiful Italian in Tunisia". In Las Vegas, working on her next Hollywood picture, 'The Professionals'.