#he's like that because he's been treated much worse

[clonecaptains]

Does He Know?

a jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader fic

warnings: giving this one an M rating for a very brief mention of masturbation; and some thematic elements like cheating (not jake or reader), some swearing, alcohol mentions; she/her pronouns used; no use of y/n

word count: 3.6k

summary: jake has been in love with you forever, but you belong to someone else. someone who doesn't treat you right. it all comes to a head when secrets are revealed at your friend's wedding.

a/n: this is a little different - it's from jake's pov! also credit goes to my bff @cowboytylerowens for naming reader's boyfriend!

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This isn’t easy for him. Not when you look the way you do. A flattering cocktail dress hugs your figure, it’s your favorite color. He knows it’s your favorite color, it’s the color you wear the most. The color you feel most confident in. He’s dying to tell you how beautiful you look because right now your body language reads that you are a little shy about the bold dress choice.

He could tell you, but it’s not the same. Not the same if you were his girl. And you’re not.

You’re not his girl.

There’s a party at the Hard Deck tonight. Bob is getting married, the rehearsal dinner finished an hour ago. The pilots are throwing him an additional party because he was apprehensive about a crazy bachelor party. The atmosphere here is loud, but it’s not anymore than normal. Maybe a little extra excitement and happiness for their friend.

You’re here because you work at the Hard Deck. Penny took you in several months back when you needed a fresh start. And after some time, you became friends with the pilots who frequent the place. Jake’s had a crush on you from the moment you walked in. He’ll never forget that moment, he felt like he’d been struck by lightning. He feels a similar feeling in his gut when he saw you in your dress tonight.

It kills him that you’re not his.

It’s worse because missed his chance.

You’re dating another pilot who got to you first. His name is Robbie, callsign Scythe. He’s been a rival of Jake’s since he got here, and taking you is another thing added to the list.

 Scythe doesn’t know how Jake feels about you, but he has noticed he’s gotten in Jake’s head. During flight training and regular work things Jake has excelled at – Scythe is just that much better. And he makes sure to let Jake know he’s noticed.

Jake used to be this way, getting in the other pilots heads. He still does but only in fun and to get his fellow pilots to do better. It eats at him a little seeing Scythe act the way he does. Just knowing he’s one step ahead – in everything.

Jake beats himself up about it, about you. He had plenty of chances to ask you out. To make his move. He knows fire when he sees it, and he really thought he felt it with you. But when Scythe swooped in as usual, Jake’s chance was gone.

So, there you are, looking like something out of a dream. And he can’t do a thing about it. That’s why he’s sitting at the bar with his back to you. Scythe has his arms around you “teaching” you how to play pool. He can hear your giggle, and it stings. He has no right to feel this way he thinks. He has no ‘claim’ over you – but he doesn’t know how to just turn off how he feels. How the sound of your laugh is downright musical to him. How your eyes and your smile have his heart squeezing in his chest.

This beer can’t nurse his wounds fast enough.

“Oh, I love this song!” Jake hears your voice perk up when a song starts playing overhead. When he tunes in, he hears that it’s “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield. A little on the nose. Too on the nose. He looks over to the jukebox to see Coyote with a smirk and a shrug. Jake huffs out his nose, rolls his eyes, and takes a long drink of his beer.

Coyote’s the only one who knows. And while he played that song in simple jest, he does feel for his friend. He’s seen the shift in Jake since you came along.

The night goes on and Jake has done what he could do to avoid seeing you. He spent most of it at the bar, but then he remembered why he was here. This isn’t about his love life.

He cracks a few jokes with Bob. He finds he enjoys this company of people, and he almost forgets he was feeling sour. Then he hears your voice over the music and the crowd. It’s hard not to zero in when he hears you.

“Robbie! Stop it.” He sees Robbie get a little handsy with you against the pool table. He’s clearly drunk now and you aren’t enjoying it.

“It’s Scythe,” he tells you, and Jake watches you frown.

“Hey!” Jake speaks up, he doesn’t want to see you upset. He knows you could do better than Scythe. Jake doesn’t know if he is the best for you but if given the chance, he’d do his best to try. “She said stop.”

You look embarrassed, and Scythe grumbles out something about not needing to be told. He looks like he’s going to be sick, and he runs off towards the bathroom, leaving you and Jake alone by the pool table.

“He’s such a dick,” Jake huffs out, he’s not trying to bash your boyfriend necessarily, but he aches for you and it’s coming out in ways he’s struggling to control. When he gets near you, he forgets how to speak, and almost always puts his foot in his mouth. “He’s not good for you.”

“And you know what’s good for me? I thought you only cared about yourself,” you reply, embarrassment taking over and Jake can tell he’s upset you, so he starts to back off. But not before he hears the telltale bell ring up at the bar. He doesn’t even have to look to know if it’s for him. He can only imagine how it looked from the bar having a heated discussion.

‘Don’t disrespect a lady.’ He knows the rules. He doesn’t feel like arguing.

The back of his neck feels hot walking towards the bar to pay for drinks. He knows everyone’s eyes are on him, and normally he’d like attention – but not this kind. He’s quick to make his exit after paying.

He barely remembers his drive home. All he can think about is you and how he didn’t mean to embarrass you. He needs to get over you, but he doesn’t want anyone else.

There’s about a million things swirling around in his head. He feels a headache coming on. A hot shower and bed are his plans for the rest of the night. And trying not to think about you.

But damn it if he can’t stop thinking about you in that dress. And how you’ll be in another one tomorrow. Fuck.

He doesn’t feel good about it, but he lets his mind wander. Thinking about your smile. Your eyes. The way the dress hugged your body. Your laugh. The soft swell of your boobs, the curve of your butt.

Fuck. He lets himself get caught up in the moment. He wishes he could take you home. Peel that dress off you and make you see stars. To make you laugh, to take care of you.

Still in the shower, he comes hard in his hand. He doesn’t feel good about it.

And once he’s gotten in bed, it takes him forever to get to sleep. He wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about you. He knows he’s in love with you. You haven’t left his head since you first walked in the Hard Deck.

Flying was just about the only thing that could distract him enough from you. Until recently.

He has to get over you. He debates telling you how he feels, but he’s sure he’d make a fool of himself. And he’s done that enough.

Jake wakes up and decides to focus on the wedding. That’s the goal for the day. He’s in it, and he has places to be. He can’t let the thought of you being there distract him.

 He won’t lie that he is a little excited to see you even though nothing will happen.

He just doesn’t want to see you hurt when it all comes down to it. He doesn’t want you to break up because of him – he wants you to be happy. And if Scythe makes you happy? Then so be it.

But that’s easier said than done.

He wants to be the one to make you happy. To get you to smile. That cute shy one.

His mind is wandering again. And he needs to get ready for this wedding.

He loves getting the chance to wear his dress uniform. It’s crisp and clean when he pulls it out of the closet.

Like most things in his life, there’s order and neatness. Except how he feels about you. Maybe that’s why you’re under his skin. You’re the one thing he doesn’t know what to do with.

Flying is easy. Keeping a routine is easy. But you? You’re in his head and he doesn’t know which way is up.

Maybe having fun at this wedding will keep him busy. He knows he looks good in this uniform, maybe he can flirt a little bit, get his mind off you.

He hasn’t been to a wedding in a while, and he’s happy to be there with his friends. He’s in a good mood. He tells himself he’s fine, that he doesn’t care that he hasn’t seen you yet.

Until he does. It’s not until the ceremony has begun. He’s standing up in the line of groomsmen, and he sees you out in the audience. You look absolutely beautiful, and it’s a punch to his gut.

It’s hard not to watch your face during the ceremony. He wishes he could kiss you. The soft romantic look on your face while you watch two people pledge their love for each other. Scythe is barely paying attention to you. And Jake can’t decide if he really is just an asshole who doesn’t know what he has, or if he’s just so intensely jealous of him. Jake knows if it were him, he’d have kissed your cheek at the very least to make you smile and remind you of the love you have.

After the ceremony is over, and things get started at the reception following – Jake is glad for the break. He needs some air, so he heads for the bathroom to splash water on his face before mingling.

He shoves the bathroom door open with one hand and heads right for the sink. Grabbing a few paper towels, he wets them – then rubs his face and the back of his neck. He’s managed to calm down for a moment when he hears a couple giggling in one of the stalls. He smirks at first, someone’s getting lucky.

Then the couple comes out of the stall. Jake’s anger boils up in him again when he sees it’s Scythe and another woman.

“Bagman!” Scythe seems almost happy to see him.

“Scythe,” Jake replies, his head feels like it’s going to explode. “So did y’all break up then?” Jake asks, he mentions your name. There is no way he’s going to let this one go, not when he knows it’ll hurt you.

“No,” he scoffs. The damp paper towels in Jake’s hand are getting squished in his fist.

“You mean, she’s out there in that dress looking like that and you’re in here?” he motions to the woman he’s with.

“She wouldn’t put out. But this one here,” he lewdly kisses her, “will. Several times. And she’s not going to find out about this.”

Jake is fuming. Things like this always happen at weddings, he knows that. But he can’t bear the thought of you being hurt. He knows this will break your heart.

“Wait, are you sweet on my girl?”

Jake’s nostrils flare, his anger giving him away.

“You’re sweet on my girl,” Scythe continues, talking of course about you. Jake doesn’t like how he sounds with your name on his mouth.

“She’s hardly yours if you’re treating her like this,” Jake says and yanks the bathroom door open to get out.

Now he’s seeing red. His job is high intensity but it’s easy for him to shut off his emotions up in the air when it’s all business. He has to go out here now and eat a meal with his friends and pretend like you aren’t about to get your heart absolutely shattered.

He can barely stomach the food. From his table, he can see you and Scythe at yours among some other friends. You have no idea what’s just happened, and Jake can’t take it. Scythe makes eye contact with him and raises his glass in a mock cheer at Jake.

“What’s going on with you?” Coyote leans over to Jake, he can tell something is wrong. “You look pissed as hell. We’re at a wedding!”

Jake leans in to his best friend, “I caught Scythe and someone else in the bathroom.”

“Shit.”

Coyote knows as well as Jake. You need to know, you need to be told. But it’s going to hurt, and Jake doesn’t want to be the one to bring you that bad news. The rest of the meal he sits on it.

It’s when the bride and groom are doing things like cutting the cake, that Jake decides to go talk to you. He has no clue what he’s going to say. He goes up to the bar to get a drink to calm him down, when he sees you nearby.

“Hangman!” you call him, and his heart jumps in his chest. Excited to hear your voice, but guilt at knowing what he knows. It’s such a mixed bag of emotions he feels dizzy with it. Or maybe it’s just how beautiful you look. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night.”

“What are you sorry for?” he asks you, he’s been through so much in the last 24 hours he couldn’t pretend to know.

“For accidentally getting you in trouble and buying all those drinks. Let me get you one?”

“It’s an open bar,” he teases. He’s finding his rhythm.

“Still,” you reply with a laugh. There’s your smile he loves. He tells you his drink order, humoring you.

“Having a nice night?”

“Yeah!” You tell him sipping on your own drink while you wait for his. “I want to dance but I have no clue where Robbie, I mean Scythe is.”

“Want to dance with me in the meantime?” Jake offers you, his hand. He’s not sure if you’ll take it, but when you do, he gives you a big grin. He couldn’t hide it if he tried.

He leads you towards the dance floor, and you join other couples in a slow dance.

He finally has you in his arms and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Your hand on his chest is burning through his uniform.

“I really am sorry about last night,” you say again. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Well, I probably deserved it, I am cocky.”

You share a laugh, then there’s a few moments of quiet. Just enjoying the dance and the music and good company. But his brain won’t leave him alone. He won’t ruin this nice moment, but you need to know at some point.

“Does he really make you call him Scythe?”

“Well, he-“ you pause. “He likes it.”

“You’re too nice to him. And everyone. Except me apparently,” he teases.

“Well, you said it yourself- that you’re cocky-“ You don’t get to finish your sentence because there’s a commotion happening nearby.

A couple stumbles out of a photobooth, and Jake sees it’s Scythe and that same woman from before. Jake calls your name, he doesn’t want you to see it but it’s too late.

“Robbie???” You leave Jake’s arms and head towards your boyfriend. He tries to give you the ‘it’s not what it looks like’ excuse but you don’t buy it for a second. Jake watches your heart break before his eyes, and he feels a little pride when you grab someone’s drink to splash it in Scythe’s face.

You take off, Jake can tell you’re crying. Everything in him tells him not to follow, to give you some space. But he doesn’t want you to be alone.

He follows you, he doesn’t see exactly where you went, but he hears a door close. You’ve stepped into a closet, and he can hear your sobs through the door.

His heart hurts, it’s killing him. You’re in so much pain – he can hear it in your cries. He waits for a moment, to let you cry – even though he wants to hold you now. He wants to give you a moment.

But when he hears you breathing heavier, he raps on the door with one knuckle. He gently calls your name and waits for you to answer.

“Hangman?” you sniffle.

“I’m here,” is all he can think to say right now, but it’s the truth.

The door opens and you look awful. Your eyes are puffy and snot all down your face. Jake spots a box of tissues behind you in the closet and grabs it. “C’mere,” he says reaching for you. He hands you the tissues and you wipe your eyes and nose.

You start to cry again, “how could I be so stupid.”

“You didn’t know.” Jake tries to comfort you as best he can. He’s wracking his brain.

“I did know. I knew. I didn’t want to accept it, but I knew.”

“I- saw him. With her tonight earlier and I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

“I should have ended it a long time ago,” you say with a heavy sigh and sit down on the floor.

“Why didn’t you?” Jake asks, sitting down next to you. He leans his head against the wall, listening.

“I was in over my head, he was fun at first.”

Jake thought that hearing you talk about him would make him jealous. It hurts him more to think about you going through something like this than his own pride. Maybe in a small way he feels better knowing it wasn’t just in his head about how Scythe was as a person.

“You wanna know something?” you look over at him. He leans forward to look at you. Damn, you’re pretty.  “I only said yes to dating him to make you jealous. I wanted you to make your move.”

Jake’s heartrate starts to pick up. Is he hearing what he thinks he’s hearing?

“I was nervous, you made me so nervous. I didn’t know what to do and so I said yes to him and then I got in a messy situation. And I didn’t know how to climb out.”

“I made you nervous?” a slow smile forms on his face. Cheeky. You elbow his arm with a shy little laugh. He’d eat you up right now if he could, you’re adorable.

“You still do,” you bite your inner cheek.

Jake reaches for your hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’m sorry all this happened, should have just asked you sooner.” He elbows you back playfully, “but you could have asked me out…”  

“Hangman, honestly,” you laugh and shove his shoulder. “I could barely talk to you as it was! This is stroking your ego too much.”

“Damn straight,” he laughs back, cocking his head as he speaks.

 You take a deep breath, the you tell him, “Help me up.”

You start to stand, and Jake is quick to jump to his feet to help you. You grab him by his jacket and pull him with you into the closet. Your lips on his in an instant. He’s quick to follow you, and he’s closing the door behind him and kissing all over your face and neck.

“Hangman!” you squeal between kisses.

He pulls back to look at you, “it’s Jake.”

Your eyes well up just a little bit and you exchange smiles before you kiss each other again. This time you bump teeth and are holding onto each other giggling in a supply closet.

His kisses get more heated. He shoves your dress strap down and plants open mouth kisses on your bare shoulder.

“You want to use a line so bad right now I know you do,” you giggle into his neck. “About how you’ll be better than him.”

“Well? If it’s the truth?” Jake gives you a little smirk. But then he watches your face fall.

“That’s one of the reasons I should have ended things,” you tell him. Your bodies are so close, you’re fully pressed up against him. The buttons on his dress uniform are digging into you. “He was moving too fast, and I wasn’t ready.” Your lip trembles and you start to cry again. “I really did like him and then he made me feel so bad about myself.”

“Listen,” Jake slowly puts the shoulder strap back up your arm and gives it a little kiss. “I just want you. Doesn’t matter how fast or slow. You’ve been in my head for months. Just being able to call you mine?” You slowly start to smile at him. “If that’s what you want of course.”

“Jake,” you squeeze his arm. Then reach to touch the hairs on the back of his neck. “Why do you think I pulled you into this closet to make-out a little bit?”

He grins and leans in to kiss you some more. His hand cradling your head, and your hands in his hair.

“We should probably get back to the wedding,” you gasp suddenly. “People might be wondering where we are.”

“Let ‘em wonder,” Jake kisses you again, hardly believing this right now.

“I want to dance with you again.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grins and opens the door. You both smile at each other adjusting your hair and rumbled clothes. Jake has lipstick all over his face, and he’s not sure if he wants to wipe it off.

“C’mon Lieutenant,” you smile tugging his arm.

“So, I really made you that nervous?”

“Shut up Seresin!”

[pomefioredove]

may I request headcanons of the overblot boys + Adeuce reaction to a younger yuu that tells them that they’re like a big brother to them? Platonic obviously—

thank you!

awww ofc!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ brotherly (again!)

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, short

Having been torn from your home, separated from your family and friends, and spit back out in a new place with new people, isn't really as fun as it sounds.

After months at NRC, though, you've managed to make yourself a life here. A new home, new friends, even new family.

Now, sitting close to the person you've become fondest of, you let slip that you seem him as a brother.

His reaction?

I am of the (kind of depressing) opinion that Riddle's life would be much better if he had a sibling. he hasn't really thought about it, per se, but he's always had this feeling...

so, when you tell him as much, he just... 🥺🥺 you know?

he's in protective brother mode from this moment on (for better or worse, lol)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the bond you have with Ace and Deuce has gone unspoken, but all of you know what it is. you saying it, though, makes it all the more real

as warm and tender of a moment as it is, Ace still feels the need to make a joke about how sappy you're being (affectionately, of course), and Deuce can only hum with excitement at the acceptance and warmth between the three of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

admittedly, Leona is a little... put off. at least, he is at first. he doesn't exactly have a great relationship with his own brother, and with no other examples to go off of, it feels kind of like an insult

he... gets what you mean, though

and, reluctant as he is to be so vulnerable, he'll say you're just as much of an annoying little sibling to him

lovingly, of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul had friends before you... kind of... but none as near and dear to him. he could never quite explain what this feeling was until you said it

ah... that's it. family. he almost feels embarrassed, being so vulnerable all of a sudden, and he can barely get out that he feels the same way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil has younger siblings already, and he could tell the two of you were forming a similar bond before you said as much. he'd caught himself treating you just how he treats his sister on multiple different occasions (for better or worse, lol), and...

he's glad that you're here with him. that's all he'll say... for now

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

many people would think you'd have to hit your head to say something like that to the Vil Schoenheit

he's untouchable! he's godlike! he's... lol. just kidding. he's quite fond of you, too, and hearing those words come from you is better than any amount of likes, any award or role. you're his favorite person, after all

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

dude, are you trying to make Idia cry??? because he will! and then he'll bubble-wrap you and Ortho so you can never go anywhere or get hurt ever

he... has some things to work through. obviously. but, really, he and Ortho have basically adopted you already, so hearing you say it... in a good way... call him cringe, but he could get a little emotional over that

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you think of Malleus as your brother? then you must also think of Silver the same way. and Sebek... would you be interested in adoption, because Lilia-

yeah. you get it. welcome to the family, lol. Malleus has already decided you're his best friend forever and ever, and hearing you call him family... hohhh that overblot is going to hit hard when you guys get there

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[nix-nihili]

Thinking about how Charles probably never tells Edwin about his father to the full extent because it's partially about vulnerability and the shame that comes with it.

It's about having to be around this one person day and night and not being able to open up to them fully because you can't just... walk away.

You can't just carve your chest open to place your beating heart in the other person's hands and walk away. You have to sit there and watch what they'll do with it. Whether they'll crush it and leave you with a bloody mess while saying that it doesn't really matter or treat it with so much tenderness you don't think you deserve.

(Because how could he ever deserve tenderness?)

See, Edwin is using these cases to build a case for himself against Hell. He's trying to prove himself here. We know this. But Charles is also trying to prove himself. Prove that he's not like his father or Brad and Hunter or the Devlin dad.

That he's not a creature of violence.

Because a part of him believes he can be just as bad as them. That sometimes he is. This is an insecurity of his. How can he tell the one person who seems to see nothing but good in him a glaring flaw? Who's to say that if he reveals things about this huge insecurity that Edwin won't realise the truth in it and agree with it?

(Crush his heart and leave it a bloody mess but at least it will be honest. At least the blood will be deserved.)

Or. Or Edwin will say that Charles is nothing like any of them. That he is good and kind and wonderful. That his hands are not made for hurting, that his purpose is not to ruin lives. That he is someone worthy of love.

(So much tenderness that feels undeserved, that feels worse because how has he managed to convince Edwin of all of this? How can Edwin believe any of this? Is this real or is he just being placated?)

So, if he takes Edwin up on his initial offer ("You can tell me anything"), he's revealing parts of himself he hasn't told anybody about in decades. To tell his best mate first? To be that vulnerable and not have a place to hide afterwards? To live with the fact that Edwin now knows about his insecurities and oh god does Edwin think about it? Does he run that conversation in his head over and over, picking apart the details until the picture is clearer and uglier? Has Edwin realised how much Charles doesn't deserve his kindness? His companionship? His love?

He can't do that. Fuck, how is he ever meant to do that? How is he ever meant to live with the shame of having told someone he has to see every day and wonder if they ever think that it's a bit hypocritical? Or worse, a bit ridiculous. A bit laughable. Not a big deal at all. That he's just been making a mountain out of a molehill and really he should leave it well and alone.

(even if a part of him knows Edwin could never do that. that Edwin is always kind. it is doing him a disservice to think of him this way. but sometimes the other part of him that cowers in fear is too loud.)

All in the past, right? Doesn't matter. He should really get over it. He'd been raised to get over it. Just another fact of life. So many people have had it worse. Hell, Edwin has had it worse. This is nothing compared to it.

(So, then why does it still haunt him?)

[cyanorhis]

In terms of “canon-compliant” zutara, I think often about how Zuko’s development is both his redemption and his doom.

Because how come the obsessive go-getter of the show does not fight harder against fate (bryke’s annoying ass) to save his beloved from putting herself into a rewardless martyr-like situation in the form of a marriage that serves as repopulation program? (Which I always thought was ridiculous).

He learns bit by bit to acknowledge and make up for his mistakes. He respects Katara above all else. He fights fair. He does not guilt-trip her nor treat her like a reward. He loves her. He gave his life for her. He would not have survived had she not been the exceptional person she is. He supports her decisions no matter what. He listens to her.

So when she tells him about her ridiculously good and selfish intentions of pandering (once again) to a non-celibate Monk who wishes to have her mother his children for the sake of airbending and his supposed affection that was born out of the self-insert of narrators who give way too much importance to childhood crushes for one’s babysitter, he might argue but he can’t help but love her and respect her decision, both horrified by the cruelty of fate (aka bryke) and filled with admiration for the person she has always been.

If Orpheus loved Eurydice too much not to turn back when she tripped behind him, then Zuko loved Katara way too much not to validate and support her terribly selfless decisions. Because how dare him be selfish and want her for himself. And how dare him tell her what to do after years of war.

It is terribly tragic because on the other side, a part of her wishes he had fought harder.

A “villain” turned “hero” sometimes can mean the upholding of ideals made by two men who enjoy shaming young girls for their choice of love interest. Sometimes, the lack of a “villain” to whisk away the princess from the “hero’s” hands means said princess will remain unacknowledged and forgotten in a narrative that turns it into something of her own volition, a narrative that ignores everything a beloved female character represented for the people she was made to represent (by their own words, must I say). It leaves the realm of picking the love interest (which honestly could simply not ever happened in any form and would still be better than this) and enters the realm of once again giving a poor treatment to a female main character who quite literally Drives the story from its beginning.

And just like Orpheus and Eurydice are doomed by fate, Katara and Zuko are doomed by Bryke. And surprisingly, Katara gets the worse of it.

[rs-hawk]

So just saw your post about not voting for trump. Good post. He's not a white nationalist though. Real white nationalists respect indigenous people. Place for every race and all that. He's just the run of the mill politician who says what he thinks will give him the most voters. Anyway, you'd probably be better treated by a white nationalist government lol.

This has been sitting in my ask box for like a month but just... Damn. This is wild.

You're telling me that I, a queer mixed Indigenous AFAB person who technically can be considered disabled, am respected by... White Supremacists? White Supremacists want me dead. I live in Texas. I come in contact with White Supremacists literally on a near daily basis.

They are the first ones to throw slurs at me. They are the first to say I should go back to my own country (and then say Reservation when I say that this is my country). They are the first ones to literally throw things at me at my day job. I have had people who I know for a fact are literally, LITERALLY, in the KKK, come into my job and ask why someone like me is working up front in a public establishment.

Again, I am mixed race. White Supremacists often either hate me off the bat because they know I'm mixed or see me as a minority and me simply existing in the same space as them is an affront. However, when they think I'm full White (as I am Italian and have been told I pass as Italian), and then find out I'm mixed it's so much worse. They take it as I lied to them. I had one customer at work a few years ago that we kind of flirted, and he was talking about taking me out when my job slowed down. I mentioned something off handedly about turquoise jewelry a few visits later, and he asked if I was "Indian". When I said yes, a total 180. He started accusing me of lying to him, saying I wanted to taint his blood line, blah blah blah.

Here's what you need to understand, sticking up for White Supremacists is just as fucked as being one. White Supremacists don't respect Indigenous Peoples. They want us gone. They want us somewhere they never have to see us. Reservations are not something we got out of respect. We have Reservations because we were forced to and it was all we were allowed. This is my ancestral land, and they still think I should be forced to live in another state because the government decided over a century ago (as the Nation I'm registered with was one of the last to be forced onto a Reservation) because they want to live here, in America, on traditional land, without wanting to see us.

White Supremacists don't respect us or any minorities. They want us out of their face. "A place for all races" just means out of their face or in what they consider in our place. A White Supremacist government is what created Reservations in the first place. A White Supremacist government is what forced my great grandmother's grandfather to be born on the side of the road during the march to the Reservation.

I am a firm believer that America is a Melting Pot. I am mixed race. I am proud of every aspect of who I am. I can list every ethnicity/race I am as I and my family are firm believers in knowing where you come from. As a child, my mom would quiz me on what I was and what side of my family it came from. It is important to know who and what you are. I have no issue with people being proud of who they are. There is no issue with wanting to only date/marry inside your culture imo. I don't have a problem with that. What is a problem is that White Supremacists (which is what I was calling Trump in my previous post) don't do that. They think they are better than other races. They don't want to even interact with other races. They. Are. Racist. And so is Trump. He called on the Proud Boys, a known White Supremacist group. Be serious.

[kick-a-long]

i find it so desperately sad that goyim generally would be so much less antisemitic if jews started physically fighting back with guns or sticks in every country. calling for the murder of muslims all over the world, if the jewish population was big enough to have large scary groups of crazy fringe fundamentalist synagogues all over the world, a billion strong, that preached murder and hate so goyim could look down on jews like some noble savage in need of assistance and western education and protection. so we could be reformed in obvious patronizing ways because there were so many of us that we had militant violent fringe extremists, like christians and muslims have, mixed in with the normal jews.

if jews didn't have such a reputation for success and intelligence maybe conspiracy theories would stop blaming us for controlling the world. if we felt less in danger maybe we wouldn't be so obsessed with long term survival.

is antisemitism some warped form of envy? maybe. what sucks is that jews are no better or worse than anyone else. some jews are brutes and some are the most wonderful people imaginable, just like any other group. what sucks is we don't all live up to the reputation of tactical geniuses and wizards with mind control magic. all of us jews are just tired and abused humans who have lived with 2000+ years of generational trauma and the endless fall out from a popular jewish book written 3000+ years ago describing the best practices of jewish culture. It has some great stories, histories, life advice, diet recommendations, hygiene, and rules about how to treat others.

is that such a crime?

trying to show a path forward? not demanding anyone else follow those rules but wanting to do our best to follow them anyway? how to live a good life that makes the world better and makes you proud to have been on earth for the time you were there? jews fail to do this all the time, just like everyone else. I fail all the time. why are people so obsessed with that? people say shylock is a stereotyped antisemitic character but,

"I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge! The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

so why do jews always have to be the better man? why do we have to apologize for being angry and sad and hating the people that attack us? that was written by Shakespeare, a christian in the 1600s who often was in debt to jewish money lenders, the only profession left to jews at that time. even he saw the double standard. it makes a good point.

now, i don't want vengeance, i don't want violence, but i feel vengeful. i feel angry that i am unsafe because of play actors and terrorist supporters who want revenge for jews existing but scream bloody murder when jews refuse to dig their own graves, beg forgiveness for ever being born, and lay down in them to be mocked and pissed on and abused in the worst ways imaginable for the entertainment and conquest of it. i want peace with them. they are as human as i am, full of foibles and anger. i want nothing to do with them. i want them to never come near a jew again for the rest of time.

i am sad. all i want is to feel my feelings and advocate for what is the most ethical and practical work around to a world filled with unending suffering while i am still alive. i want them on thier side to live in the world they want and me on my side to live in the world i want. why don't these children of all ages, lost in delusions of fantastical battles and ultimate good and evil, see that? why can't I be a human first as well as a jew first? why do they ask me to pick? why am i not allowed to pick?

it's been almost a year. we're all so tired.

I'm going to a music festival. I'm trying to decide whether to wear a star. why is it dangerous to wear a star around my neck?

[secretlilsis]

You are lovingly kidnapped but even the most patient captor has his limits. So how do you keep things from going off the rails?

Tw : dubcon, kidnapping, lots of fear.

Your captor smiling at you with that smile that makes your skin crawl. It’s to friendly looking. To fake. He puts down the bowl of soup in front of you and pierces you with his eyes. „I’ll have to feed you, won’t I? I can’t untie you again, the last time I did that you tried to escape.“

You don’t even respond to him. He slowly lifts up a spoonful of soup to your mouth and collides with your lips, reluctantly you open your mouth and the taste of fresh, healthy soup fills your mouth. You feel exhausted and tired. Spent. Your last escape attempt having failed took so much of your willpower. It’s painful when you think you have a chance at escaping only to recognise you don’t.

You got out of the room, bashing him over the head - but then we’re met with a corridor with only one door, which was locked. And by that he had come to it and gotten you back.

He hid his anger but you knew he was seething. Yet there you were, being spoonfed soup and obediently opening your mouth spoon for spoon.

Soon the entire bowl was finished. It had been delicious. He knew so much about you. Down to what your favourite soups were.

„How about a thank you for the meal I prepared for you?“ He asked, trying to hide his hostility.

You could taste iron on your tongue. You had bit down on it to hard without noticing.

„Thank you..“ You responded in what you hoped was a polite sounding tone of voice.

He had treated you like a spoiled captive princess up so far but this was apparently under the delusion he could make you love him that way. He didn’t have that hostile angry energy before you attacked and tried to escape. You knew he was trying to stay civil. But you felt broken and on edge.

It felt like a tipping point. This guy could fly of the handle any moment now, it was palpable. It hung in the air so thick you could’ve cut it.

He knew all about you, clearly. But you knew next to nothing about him. Which meant you didn’t know what to do about any of this. You didn’t know what would piss him off worse or what would win a segment of trust back. He felt like many unknown variables to you, that you could neither define or grasp.

„Hey..“ His concerned words got you out of your head. „Your lip is bleeding..“ He said.

Shit. Had you continued with your lip after your tongue?

Before you had any time to think a response his tongue was gently licking the blood off of your lips.

He was so close.

You decided on instinct. Maybe because the sensation aroused you a little and it felt easier to act on something atleast partially true then to make up an entire role or lie to play - with the risk of angering him worse - you decided to allow a moan to escape your lips.

Then you kissed him.

But he pulled away instantly.

He looked flustered.

But he wasn’t dumb.

„You attacked me. Do you think I’d believe this to be genuine?“ There. There was scorn in his voice now that he didn’t even attempt to hide.

Fuck. Was that the wrong choice? Did you make it worse?

Lying. Pretending. You concluded that was something he disliked, you weren’t sure if it was true or not, but you had to act before this kidnapping stopped being as „comfortable“ as it had been so far.

„You’re right.. I attacked you. I.. I wanted to escape. I - I still do.. I would.. but I know it won’t work. I won’t try that again.“ You held your breath. You cut off your own words. Maybe it was best to leave unexpressed how much you truly still wanted to escape. Don’t lie but don’t share to much of what could trigger him. Good.

His reaction wasn’t anger. It wasn’t anything positive either. He looked pretty unmoved. He was just watching you.

„.. But I did feel a little aroused just now when you.. suddenly did that.. That doesn’t mean I’m .. happy I’m here or anything - I just..“ You didn’t know what else to say. Maybe that wouldn’t convince him either. Maybe it was to late, maybe your one attempt at freedom had fucked it all up. You were scared.

„So you want to offer your body to me as an apology?“ There was disdain in his voice. You felt stung. „You better be ready for it then. And never forget that you were the one that crossed that line, that wasn’t me..“

„I didnt .. I..“ You felt hopeless.

„I don’t love seeing you that hurt or sad. You know? I don’t. But if this makes you cry, I’d do it anyways. You offered it to me just now, you did. It’s mine now, atleast that one time I won’t hold back and I’ll take you.”

You felt a bitter taste in your mouth. This didn’t sound like anger but it didn’t sound good either. His prior delusionally happy tone had pissed you off, but you’d have given anything to have it back now.

You were going to try something else. You weren’t gonna give up. “I don’t want you to just take me, though. I want you to do it how .. it feels good to me too. I want to enjoy it.”

He smiled bitterly “I would’ve made your body feel good anyways. But look at you trying to make a brave face at the big dangerous monster. I know how you see me now. It hurts. But it’s okay. Just continue not to say the quiet part out loud and let me have your obedience instead of your love. I’ll treat it well.”

Then he forced a kiss on you that left you breathless, his tongue opening your mouth whilst his hand was caressing your neck. There was something so passionate and unhinged about the way he kissed you. It filled you up. You wondered how a single kiss could leave you feeling that invaded. It felt like sex.

You breathed quickly and loudly after his mouth seperated from yours, it had felt incredible and left you panting.

He looked at you with an almost sad gaze. “It felt good didn’t it? I told I take good care of my possessions. I love what I own. I just wish what I own loved me back.”

He picked you up and carried you to the bed, your legs and arms still tied. He got on top of you, kissing your neck and scraping it with its teeth. “It hurts that you want to reject me that much… but I do like seeing how your body reacts to me like this ..” He whispered inbetween your shivering moans.

You felt like he expected you to say something in return, but you felt if you lied now to appease him it would come back to bite you so much worse than if you just kept silent.

You didn’t have anything to say.

He started to take off your clothes to the extent he could and then started to rub massage oil on you, massaging your thighs, belly and shoulders very throughly. You couldn’t help but feel relaxed for the first time today. His touch was consistent and dependable, treating your body with utter care.

Then he started to play with your nipples and your moans grew louder. He tugged on them. You moaned and winced more. It felt good. His touch felt good.

It wasn’t like he repulsed you. But he terrified you. You felt like a small animal trapped with a predator. You wanted out of here.

But his touch felt soothing and comforting. Lulling you in. It felt good to give into his touch. It felt good to surrender. Being scared was exhausting. Giving into the pleasure of his touch was much easier.

He must’ve noticed the internal change on your face cause you felt him get calmer. “That’s good…” He whispered. His fingers finding that sweet spot between your legs, muscles tightening - he played with it to his hearts content. He was good at making you cum fast. You screamed yourself hoarse as he kept you cumming.

You felt like you were falling into the pits of hell just to find that hell was a very warm, pleasurable and comforting place.

You told yourself not to talk but you mindlessly mumbled „I want your cock please… please? Pretty please?“

It was pleasurable in hell. That’s right, you told yourself this was hell. That it wasn’t really real.

He looked at you like you were delicate and delicious. „.. Of course my love. If you want it that badly you can have it. I’d love to see you spread your legs for me but you sadly cannot be trusted enough to be untied..“

So he simply flipped you on your stomach and entered your pussy from behind.

He cock felt incredible. So incredible that you almost started to drool onto the mattress.

„It’s almost like you’re mine like that.. even if I know that’s not it.. I don’t know what I’d call that… what that is you’re giving me here.. But I like it. I’ll take it.“ He whispered, his voice now authentically gentle again. Your pussy tensed around his cock upon hearing his normal tone of voice again.

You were so happy to hear that again. So so happy you had it back.

Your hips started to work with him, thrusting themselves at him to feel his member more deeply.

„I love you..“ you said without thinking, trying to feel his cock even better. You felt you would’ve never said that but there was something about this moment. It didn’t feel like you were lying but it didn’t feel like love was the right term for it either.

„You don’t..“ he whispered, kissing your back gently as he kept thrusting in and out of you harder. Your back arching for him. „But I’m sure .. what you’re feeling right now is intense and warm enough to make you say this..“

„More..“ You whispered. „Make me feel better. I need you. I love you. Please. Please.“

He smiled into the nabe of your neck „.. Did you break or something? I tried to be pretty careful and gentle with you, you know?“

„Im not broken… I’m..“ you wouldn’t lie to him so you said „… this is just sincerely the first time I felt safe since I’ve been here and I want more and more and more of it..“

He gave you what you wanted and fucked into you even harder and deeper.

„I tried so hard to make you feel safe and yet you do nothing but fear me but if I’m balls deep inside you you’re calm?“ He sighed a little.

Finally you felt another climax come „You’re mine you’re mine you’re mine..“ was what you whispered as you came hard around his cock, pulsing around him.

This made him cum as well. He creampied you.

„Im yours huh? Interesting thing your brain needs you to feel right now… would you like it I wonder? If I was yours as well rather than me just trying to own you, mh?“

He pulled out of you, cum oozing out of you.

[peaches2217]

My first therapy appointment in several months went really well! I’m returning to the councilor I’ve had for a couple years now. I updated her on my transition journey because the last time I saw her was a couple weeks before I started on T; I told her about coming out to my dad last night, and how disappointing it was.

The ensuing conversation was both productive, and so fucking validating.

My recent depressive episode? Complicated by an event with a former friend, but set into motion, and dragged out for so long, because of the stress of what was to come. My voice has gotten too low to even PRETEND it’s just a holdover from being sick or part of allergies or what have you. I’ve known for the past month that the time to tell my dad was coming. The fear of his reaction and the consequences it could bring since I’m currently in a financially vulnerable place was killing me.

And as we talked, I figured out that the unpredictability is still my only real, big fear: my dad promised me he wouldn’t kick me out, but there’s that lingering fear that he could change his mind, and even if he doesn’t, he could start draining my paychecks — I told him my GAC, insurance copays and all, has been coming exclusively out of my pocket, so I get the sneaking suspicion he’s gonna take advantage of us sharing a bank account and deepen that financial dependency. And above all, I’m afraid of losing our relationship. I’m okay with him not accepting my identity so long as he doesn’t treat me any differently in spite of it. But if he starts pulling away or pushing me away or withholding love as punishment for following down a path he disapproves of, what then?

My counselor told me that, sad as it is, I can’t control how he chooses to react. But I have my mom and brother’s support, my girlfriend’s support, and an online community of friends; if I lose my relationship with him, that’s ultimately his decision and his loss, and no matter what he does, I won’t face it alone.

I had hoped that assuring him I felt God’s peace in my choices and that I’d spent years praying over the situation would at least sorta put him at ease, but all he did was infantilize and illegitimize my entire experience as guided by evil and selfishness. I can’t reason with him or come to a happy medium with him like I did with my mom. The faith he’s praised me for sticking close to he’s now decided is all lies and self-delusion simply because he doesn’t like the conclusions I’ve come to. Nothing I do will satisfy or convince him… so why waste energy trying?

I just have to live with his disappointment, and as much as it hurts, it’s also freeing. I’ve done all I can do. I don’t have to hide anymore. I don’t have to live with the stress of what will happen once he knows, because for better or worse, he knows now. If he doesn’t like it, so be it. I’ve laid my cards down, and how things progress between us is entirely up to him. When I put aside my stress over our relationship, I feel nothing but confidence and happiness and certainty. If he thinks this is a mistake… well, he’s gotta let me make my mistakes. I spent 20+ years not doing anything for fear of what bad might happen, and that left me a suicidal wreck by age 18. I won’t sit by and let ominous warnings and premonitions hold me back any longer. It COULD be a mistake, or it COULD be the best decision I’ve ever made. How will I know if I freeze up in fear?

My counselor noted several times that I look, sound, and act more confident than she’s ever seen from me. Without the pressure of keeping secrets, I’m able to more easily sort between what thoughts are mind and what thoughts my dad, my trauma, or both have planted in my head. I can say with my whole chest that I feel I’m going in the right direction. I can even say “Fuck it, my dad’s approval or disapproval is on him, not me” with greater conviction. I’m acting on things I’ve wanted from the moment we first spoke, and she says the positive change it’s made radiates off of me. She said she’s extremely proud of the progress I’ve made.

I’ll be seeing her again next week, then dropping down to seeing her every other week. In spite of how relatively poorly last night went, I feel empowered. God I’m so glad to be back.

[3-2-whump]

Mistaken Accusation

<prev

Well, let's get into it. Beginning of the end. Special thanks to my beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz ! Do mind the tags, and enjoy

This chapter does reference The Hit, so please skim that first if you are not already familiar with it

Author's Note: This is where shit gets real (more real, that is), and where the author may make some decisions that might not vibe with the readers. To those readers, all I will say is fanfiction is a thing, canon divergence is a thing, and I will honestly be more intrigued than mad if you end up scrapping this part and writing your own version! (Just lmk, like tag me or dm me so I can see?) But, um, yeah, onto the chapter!

TW/CW: description and mention of STD, prostitution whump, mock execution, gun violence (brief, but there), collared whumpee, bound and blindfolded whumpee, shock, emotional whump, fear of death, pissing oneself out of fear, emotional angst, degrading language, toxic relationship, manipulative whumper, possessive whumper, intimate whumper

As Khaled relieved himself in the office bathrooms near the end of the day, he hissed under his breath at the burning sensation coming out of him. That can’t be good, he thought. What would make it feel like he was passing acid or fire down there? He looked down at his dick, eyes widening a little as he saw how inflamed his urethra looked. Khaled let out a mortified little squeak. What’s wrong with my penis?

Should I tell Master? Telling his master that he suspected he’d caught something would only lead to probing questions about Khaled’s sex life, even though he wasn’t the one who had visited every whorehouse within the tristate area. Probing questions about his sex life would mean admitting that he was sleeping with Julio, and admitting that he was sleeping with Julio would only fuel his master’s possessive side and make things far worse for him. Khaled could imagine no situation in which he would come out unscathed if he told Thomas about it. So, he decided not to tell him.

He didn’t have to endure his secret for long though, because as soon as he came back into his master’s office, he could sense the energy had changed. 

“Is there something wrong, Boss?” Khaled asked nervously.

“I have just received information from our foot soldiers and informants that the motorcycle that my would-be assassin rode when he got away came from Alvarez Auto and Motorcycles, a known front of Juicio Divino,” Thomas gritted out.

Khaled’s jaw dropped as his mind slowly put together the pieces that he had in his hands all along. Of course, it was Julio, how could I be so blind?! he thought. Just over a year ago, Khaled himself approached the scrapyard assassin asking him to teach him how to kill, and had been crawling back to him in various states of distress ever since. Julio was one of two people on earth who knew how badly Thomas actually treated him, and, combined with his overprotective tendencies, Khaled mentally beat himself up for not suspecting his boyfriend sooner. 

His master’s stormy gray eyes narrowed at Khaled in a piercing glare as he pushed his tablet across the desk. “Incidentally, you have been visiting Alvarez Auto pretty frequently over the past year, haven’t you?”

Khaled’s stomach twisted in dread as he leaned in closer to read it. There, opened on his slave tracking app, was a map with pins of most-frequently visited locations he had been tracked to, and there was a damning bright red pin at the address of Julio’s garage. His mouth went dry as he opened and closed it in shock, trying to collect the right words to say as the opportunity to beg for mercy slipped through his fingers like sand. “I- Master, I- it’s not what you think-”

The older man disdainfully held up a hand, a nonverbal cue that he didn’t want to hear it. Khaled shrank in on himself. “How did you even pay for a hit against me, huh?” the boss asked. “I know you haven’t made that much money since I’ve started paying you! How could you afford to put out a hit?” His voice lowered to a growl. “Did you bend over for that cholo son of a bitch? Did you let him fuck you like I fuck you? Is that why you’ve got an infection –don’t deny it, Khaled, it hurt when I pissed this morning!”

The world seemed to stop as the air quickly left Khaled’s lungs. Wait, what? He was being accused of conspiring against his master, then of being a whore within the same breath? And to make matters worse, he somehow gave his owner an STD before he realized he had one himself? His breaths came out shallow as his body began trembling in fear. What does this mean for me? What’s going to happen to me? He nearly passed out as his imagination went wild with how severe his punishment would be. “Master, please, I had no idea-”

“Shut up!”

Khaled ceased his begging instantly, a nauseous wave of dread coiling in his stomach as he waited for his master to dole out his sentence. “You will never see anybody besides me again,” his master said, glowering at him in contempt as Khaled’s eyes widened in horror. He got up from his chair and circled around Khaled, with a familiar black shock collar and a length of chain in hand. “I’ll give you a chance to say your goodbyes before we leave.”

Khaled regained enough of his senses to shake his head and back away from the man approaching him. “But, Master, I didn’t-”

The world snapped to the right in a stinging blow as Thomas backhanded him. Khaled rubbed his sore cheek and winced in pain. “You’re lucky I don’t outright kill you, though I still might, if you keep whining like that!” he yelled. Khaled turned silent and sullen, still cradling his sore cheek as the collar tightened like a noose around his throat. “Now, come on, let’s make your final goodbyes count.” His master attached the chain leash to a notch in the shock collar and pulled Khaled towards the exit.

-

Khaled was pulled through the whole office and out to the guard shack like that, stopping periodically as his master made him explain what was going on and why he was leaving to everyone they met. Khaled’s voice was shaking like a leaf the first stop they made; by the time they made it to the guard shack, he was unable to utter anything intelligible past his tears. Nico’s jaw dropped as Thomas explained what had happened and why Khaled was never going to see him again.

“But, he didn’t do it, sir!” he objected, pushing himself out of his desk chair and standing up to face him. “He had no part in it! I can prove it, just listen to me!”

As much as Khaled wanted to interrogate that ‘I can prove it’ claim just a little more, Tom ignored him. He pulled the leash taut and yanked Khaled away. Khaled frantically pulled at the collar around his neck, emitting choked gasps as he stumbled along and struggled to keep up.

They ended up back at the car, where Tom unclipped his leash and pushed the button on the key fob to unlock the trunk of the car. Khaled was shoved up roughly against the side of the car as his hands were gathered behind his back and bound tightly by a soft and silky material, most likely a necktie. “Master, please, please, hear me out –I didn’t put a hit on you, I swear!” he once again tried to explain through a mess of snot and tears. “I don’t want to kill you, why would I want to kill you? Please –listen to me! I don’t want to kill you; I swear I didn’t know!” Thomas dragged him to the back of the car, where he stared down at him in cold fury. He took out a dark cloth from his pocket and unfolded it. Khaled preemptively opened his mouth to receive it, but then the man tied the cloth around his eyes to blind him. He quietly shut his mouth as the blindfold was tied tight enough to catch his hair. He heard the trunk of the car quietly whoosh open before he was picked up and shoved inside. The door of the trunk slammed shut, sealing him in an extra layer of darkness.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever as Khaled shivered in the darkness. It was still far too cold to be riding back there without anything to keep him warm. Throughout the darkness he begged, then screamed, then cried, then sniffled, knowing damn well his master couldn’t hear him.

Time seemed to work differently in the dark, cramped confines of a car trunk. Khaled was unsure of how much time had passed since he was shoved in the trunk, but he was more than concerned that they seemed to keep driving far longer than it usually took to get back to the apartments. He’s never going to forgive me, he realized as he rested his head onto the floor of the trunk. He really thinks I planned to kill him, and now he’s going to take me out into the woods and kill me, or do something so horrific it will make me wish I had died. A fresh round of tears soaked into his blindfold as Khaled whimpered pathetically. I don’t want to die, not like this.

Goddamnit, Julio, you tried to be the hero, and now I’m gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere, Khaled cursed in his head.

The car rolling to a stop and faint click that preceded the trunk unlocking made Khaled’s heartrate speed up. A new wave of anxiety hit him much like the blast of midwinter air when the trunk was opened and he was pulled out. He didn’t feel concrete underneath his shoes, and the fresh icy chill of the air around him told him they weren’t in the parking garage. We really are in the woods somewhere, he thought, his hopes sinking like lead as his master’s hand gripped his elbow and steered him along to an unknown destination. He’s really driven me out to the woods somewhere to kill me. Khaled stumbled as his foot hit an unseen obstruction, but his master dragged him along regardless. This is it. I’m gonna die. His breaths started picking up, heart racing as that last thought worked him up into another nervous state. His owner stopped and threw him forward onto the ground. Khaled landed face first into a cold and wet patch of snow, judging on how it felt when it absorbed his impact. “Get up and kneel.” Khaled’s breaths stopped in his throat. There was no room in his master’s frigid tone for argument. He pushed himself up the best he could with his hands bound behind his back, shivering not just from the cold as he assumed a kneeling position.

A cold, metallic object pressed against the back of the young man’s skull. “If you’ve got anything to say, say it now,” his master’s voice said behind him. A wet and warm spot began to soak his pants in the front. Khaled’s mind went blank. He was so scared he nearly forgot his owner had asked for his last words. He caught his trembling lip between his teeth before shaking his head. Whatever he could say for his last words would go unheeded anyway, lost in the winter’s chill and the indifferent New England woods. He hung his head in resignation, ready for the explosive pain followed by sudden oblivion and nothingness, or whatever it was that lie ahead.

He had at least hoped he would see his father’s face before the end. But the only image his shielded eyes could conjure up before he died was a pair of sharp, steel gray eyes.

Click.

Nothing happened.

The gun lowered, and heavy footsteps crunched in the snow as his would-be executioner walked around to the front of him.

Khaled was still alive. Somehow, he was still alive. There was a light brush of hands reaching behind his head before the blindfold fell away, revealing a familiar face staring down at him with those same steel gray eyes. Khaled’s breath shimmered in the cold moonlit night. He was alive. He wasn’t going to die. He was alive.

All the fear and tension left his body like his vaporous breath in the night as he slumped forward, crying tears of relief into his master’s shoulder as he caught him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he sobbed between each breath.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Thomas soothed as he reached behind Khaled to untie his hands. “I believe you for now, it’s alright.” As soon as his hands were free, Khaled wrapped them around the older man’s neck, hugging him close as he bawled into his shoulder. “I thought about it, but there is no way I can definitively prove it was you.” A muscular pair of arms wrapped around him and held him close, drawing him into the warmth. “And besides, my favorite fuck toy, plotting to kill me?” His master laughed. “No way you’re smart enough for that! I didn’t buy you for your brains, you know!”

“Yes, yes, I’m stupid, I am so fucking stupid, thank you!” Khaled cried. He nuzzled his cold wet face into Tom’s warm neck and peppered the man’s jawline with kisses, murmuring his gratitude between every kiss. He was alive, he didn’t die, and that was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“Let’s go home,” Thomas said, hoisting Khaled onto his feet. “The takeout I bought is getting cold, and you need a change of pants.”

He led the young man through the woods back to side of the road where he had parked his car. “I was completely serious about you never seeing anybody else again, by the way,” he reminded him as he opened the passenger side door. Khaled slid gratefully inside, happy to be in the heated part of the car. “You are relieved of your duties to the organization from now on,” Tom continued as he joined him on the driver’s side, “You are demoted to domestic service. You will stay at home and keep the penthouse spotless, welcoming me to it every evening with warm food and your warmer body. You will stay in the apartment and not leave for anything unless it is with me or a trusted associate. You will never see anybody again. That’ll keep you from conspiring to kill me, or from spreading your legs for anyone else but me, and only I will decide when it’s time to bring you back out again.” He pushed the button and started up the vehicle, setting the heaters to full blast.

Khaled nodded. What did he care about being stuck at home and never seeing anybody again? He was alive, and right now, as he held his freezing fingers close to the vents, that was all that mattered.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[lilithofpenandbook]

People don't like Snape because he's the most realistic person in the book. There, I said it.

Specifically, people who don't like Snape and think he deserved his bullying and claim that he's a completely evil man.

They don't like the fact that their worst behaviour is mirrored at them. That this is actually how they would be if they went through this sort of bullshit.

Humans aren't as good as we think we are. We all think we'd be the sassy, funny, ultimately good Harry Potter. We think 'Oh, I'd never be like Snape, I'm better than that'.

But truly? Humans can be serious assholes.

Hurt people hurt people. Even without trying.

Snape's not evil. He's a broken human, and if you don't understand that, then you probably don't understand humans

[casscainmainly]

I know people love saying 'Bruce is a girldad' and I totally get it, we want to show how much he loves Cass and that she's his daughter. But Bruce's initial love for Cass was largely predicated on how not girly she was. He openly dislikes her girlhood throughout Batgirl 2000 (including but not limited to: dismissing her civilian identity, berating her for any romantic attempts, weakening her friendship with Stephanie, undermining her relationship to Babs, etc. etc.). Cass' femininity interferes with his ability to project onto her, so a lot of the time he just dismisses it. Is it really a coincidence that Bruce's only adopted daughter is one who wasn't raised as a girl?

[sysig]

A very normal scientist doing very normal gene splicing experiments (Patreon)

[oil-bh]

Do you think, when he was arrested, that Cell was seen as the same as any other prisoners? Do you think he resided in the same places, ate the same food, performed the same work? Do you think the guards saw him and his violent history and let him roam the same as the thieves whose POV we saw it through?

Or do you think they saw this barely 18-year-old, who turned to violence and cannibalism as a means to survive, and recognized the danger he posed? Do you think they held him down, fought against his struggle, and let the other prisoners know that he wasn’t like them?

Do you think Cell was confused, confused as to why he was so different from the other Brazilians that lived in those same conditions? Do you think that he saw them as threats not because they were ones, but rather, because he knew that they lived so much better than him, yet still wound up here?

Do you think this man— if you could even call this teen a man— saw JV, Pac, Mike, and Guaxinim as threats out of jealousy? Empty wishes that he could have lives their lives and made smarter decisions to be a free man roaming the earth?

Do you think he cried when they held him down and put that infernal thing on him?

Não.

Ele é um animal.

Os animais não sentem.

[tanjir0se]

Is the world ready for my Sanemi conspiracy theory? Should I include it in Love Me Mercilessly? Is it time for me to speak my truth?

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

everytime i take a tiny triangle out of the cake i made my brother comes in and cuts off a trapezium, making the cut a single clean line. it would be vaguely funny but like i made the thing and like could he not eat it all without leaving some for me