#reasons why I leave anonymous asks on

[perfectlyvalid49]

Entering your asks because I have seen your post about Jewish trauma and replies all over my dash (and only doing it on anon because of how stilted and awkward I always am with strangers that I admire). Your patience and earnest attempts to educate and inform those too stubborn, arrogant, and convinced of their absolute moral correctness is astonishing, and I am sorry the world's once more in such a state of hate that you had to make that post in the first place, let alone deal with a mess of antisemitic BS in the notes. (I am sorry we goyim on the left are failing the Jewish community as badly as we are. We never seem to learn, no matter how patiently you hold our hands through the explanations.)

You seem to be all kinds of awesome.

First, thank you!

Second, I’m sorry for being all over your dash. It was a long post to begin with and it only got longer as everybody yelled at the anti-Semite. It was all over my dash too, and *I* was beginning to find it annoying.

It feels weird to be admired, as I think my most notable qualities are “good at remembering rules to TTRPGs,” “incredibly stubborn,” and “does not know when to shut up.” If you feel more comfortable on anon, that’s fine, but if you ever want to put your name on things, know that most of my friends (myself included) are in the “neurospicy and have less than awesome social skills” group, so awkward isn’t going to bother me any.

The patience comes from having two elementary aged kids. If I can deal with a toddler, I can deal with an adult acting like a toddler. Also, I used to be a receptionist at a pediatrics office – so I actually have a lot of experience customer servicing adults acting like toddlers, to be honest.

As for a willingness to educate, I genuinely believe that hatred in all its forms comes from ignorance. It’s much easier to hate a faceless entity than a real person, and it’s easier to hate a group that you have no experience with than to hate a member of that group that you’re having a conversation with, especially when they’re being reasonable. I’ve been a LOT of people’s first Jew, and I don’t mind being the person to show that Jews are just normal people. Even if the person I’m in conversation with isn’t getting it, my hope is that someone on the sidelines – either their followers or mine, will.

There are two Jewish concepts at play here. The first is “tikkun olam,” or “repairing the world.” The idea is that the world is not perfect, and it is our duty to make it better. I feel like educating people, and hopefully reducing hate is a way of doing that. The other is a quote from the Talmud - “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.” I don’t have to teach everyone, but when presented with the opportunity to teach someone, I have to at least try. The way I see it, doing this is part of how I practice Judaism.

As for the goyim on the left, a lot of them have let me down. But every once in a while I get an ask or a message like this from someone who seems to understand. Or I’ll point out someone’s antisemitism, and they’ll actually listen to the criticism and try to do better. It gives me hope. Since I made that post, I’ve received kind messages from a handful of people privately, plus there’s been some love in the tags on reblogs. Between that and getting all that off my chest in the first place, I honestly feel better now than I did a week ago. Thanks to everyone who helped with that, including you, Anon.

[yuwuta]

PETITION!!!!!! FOR THE ATLA X JJK STUFF!!!! OMG NOW I HAVE A BRAINROT love this idea sm.....

i have SOOOO many ideas you have no idea how near and dead atla is to me… i could rant about this day and night…. reader’s bending or non-bending abilities always change in the au for me, but i feel very strongly about everyone’s bending abilities teehee…. except satoru… i can pickle many aus for satoru bc that’s pookie <3

firebender reader that captures airbender yuuta to take him back to the fire nation as a reward and honestly he should fight back, he could fight back, and he probably shouldn’t blush when you’re rough with him, but you’re really pretty and stubborn and sure the ropes you put around his hands and ankles are really tight but it could have been worse. and you haven’t burned or scarred him, and you even give him some of fish you capture and cook along the way, so maybe you don’t really hate him that much. it’s so much of yuuta nervously rambling as you two travel and you not responding, but that doesn’t stop yuuta, nor does it deter him from thinking that you’re not all bad. clearly you’re strong and determined and you believe capturing him with worth something so he kinda…. let’s it be (also he thinks he’d lose a fight to you) and somewhere along the way he gets the courage to point blank as you why you’re taking him and i’d love to say he talk no jutsus you into not turning him in but also love the idea of someone else attacking you and yuuta turning on the airbending to choke them out which is insane bc you’ve done nothing but capture him but who’s to say that’s not a form of love too xoxo

or we can consider you and megumi growing up in the south pole together, it’s a small town so it’s not a coincidence that you two become friends, even if megumi is a little gruff at first. you two do everything together, even though your water bending abilities start to differ as you get older—you become much more mischievous, while megumi becomes focused on precision and healing. it’s why, despite the tradition being father and son to go out hunting, toji takes you out to sea to go ice fishing and you always run back home to megumi with your capture in hand, damn near tackling him every time and happily proclaiming you caught his favorite; and every time he tells you to calm down and not cause a scene, but you don’t, and toji and his mom chuckle as you tackle him and megumi tries to blush and wrangles you into a seat inside while he helps his mom with dinner. and really, all is well until some snobby prince from another town claims that your family is indebted to his and that you’re betrothed as collateral and everyone finds out very quickly that even though megumi spent all his time focusing on healing, that he’s still toji’s son and can make one hell of a tsunami if it calls for it. (and when the storm, literally, passes, megumi huffs as he digs through his belonging and stuffs a necklace in your hand and all you can do is blink and wonder what’s going on while his mom snickers in the background and winks at you “i think that’s a proposal, dear.”)

orrrrrr even though i firmly believe in airbender satoru superiority, i do make an exception for stealing yue’s plot line and making satoru a waterbender and prince who’s hair is only white because he blessed and saved by the moon spirit when he was very young. ofc, that’s not enough to make him nearly as humble as he should be, and satoru spends all his days ignoring his princely duties and bothering you and a nanami instead, ditching his masters and servants in favor of pouting at you to teach him your skills instead because satoru wholly believes his duty is not to serve as the bridge between his people and the moon, but instead to annoy you and hopefully make you mrs half-moon someday

[soundleer]

I don't know if this count weird or not but what if I want to Ship Sky with my Oc? Like the same age as him or even make them older

I mean like selfshipping and oc X canon are different right? Bc if it wrong I make had to to change that character

before i answer this, i wanna say that im aware ill probably word this poorly so it'll come off in a way it's undesirable to hear but ill try my best to answer in the most collected fashion

apparently there seems to be some confusion regarding this topic and where the line should be drawn but hey ill assure you, yes selfshipping is entirely different from oc × canon. ill also say this too and in my personal opinion, i think its okay to ship sky with your oc who's also a minor!

you may not think this parts necessary but i feel like its needed as good rule of thumb for others: unless you decided to make that same oc age along with you in real-time, i see no issue with shipping an oc with sky especially if they're at the same age range as him!

*TL;DR selfship and oc × canon are completely different, therefore its not weird to ship sky with an oc thats on his age range!*

[cowboy-robooty]

not going to name names bc thats messed up but omfg i was tryna find records of old heta fandom shit to show inu right and i found a hetalia iceberg and I SAW MY 2019 OPP ON THERE. IT WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY LIKE MY EYES BULGED OUT OF MY SKULL BECAUSE IM NOT EVEN JOKING I HATED THIS BITCH SO MUCH WHEN I WAS 14 AND NGL I STILL HATE HER. I DIDNT SAY NOTHING AND KEPT CURTIOUS AND NORMAL OBVIOUSLY BUT ON THE INSIDE I WANTED HER ASS DEAD EVERYDAY AND WELL... you all know im never in the loop with things and had no fucking clue that she was just the antichrist for an entire group of people lol. SHE WAS MY ANTICHRIST THO. I HATED HER AND SHE HATED ME OKAY AND IM LIKE RODF SEEING HOW SHES ON THE FUCKING HETALIA ICEBERG I WAS LIKE OMG.... I THOUGHT ONLY I FUCKING DESPISED HER

[izloveshorses]

Also am I the only one who looked at Dmitry and DIDN'T go 'oh he sleeps around'? Because I seem to be!!!

[justworthlessreblogs]

Same Anon as Yesterday (Food pun anon) and I just wanna say something I personally think is missing from Rio’s arc, that I think is important.

So largely, I’m speaking from my own experience as a twin, where me and the twin were really codependent and I was definitely the more docile of the twins. What really helped me with my own personal inferiority complex was making the choice to step out of her shadow. Even though I wasn’t born talented at the things I chose to focus on, the fact that I had chosen to set out and do it on my own left me feeling proud and fulfilled.

To me, Rio makes this choice by becoming Julio, only to step back into her shadow (aka his comfort zone) after his redemption. His friends are her friends, his hobby is her hobby. In a way it’s like, regression rather than development.

I think Rio really should have found something that he’s passionate about that Ciel isn’t, and made some friends that care about that same passion. I don’t think he needs to stop being passionate about baking, but I think he should’ve tried to find something that makes him feel unique. He needs friends that care for him not because he’s Ciels twin, but because he’s Rio.

I’ve came up with various headcanons over the years to deal with this, from giving him a set of new friends, to him becoming more of a business kinda guy when they grow up. Like Ciel is the creative one who literally doesn’t understand the first thing about running a business and Rio is the manager who makes sure the patisserie they run doesn’t spontaneously explode or smth. If I recall, WV Rio likes sports as a hobby (might’ve hallucinated that, it’s been a minute) and I really wish canon had expanded on that, or his other talents. Because I think that would’ve been a much more satisfying way to end his arc.

food anon you're so right. my hottest take of all is that at the end of the series rio still isn't in a healthy mindset because he's put right back into the same situation that caused him to spiral in the first place except ciel compliments him sometimes and i don't think that's a great ending. when writing waffleverse i always ask myself "who is (pov character)?" and once i moved out of rio's julio era and his corporated mandated post-redemption angst i realized i had no fucking idea because postcoma rio just. Exists. he's ciel's brother and he's kinda grumpy and he feels bad about what he did as julio and that's about all you can say about him. he is unfortunately the hardest character for me to write because of that

[pawstickers]

Amy lives in an apartment all by herself, with no adult supervision even though she is only 12 years old. Someone should call child services for this poor neglected child.

i feel like maybe for mobians/furries/animal people (what. do we call this species now help) this sort of independence is seen as normal, which is why teenagers like espio can work at a detective agency as well

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

8 for the artist asks?

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in?

oh man this is a hard one.

i don't necessarily keep track of that stuff, and my memory is abysmally bad too so i can't even exactly remember any in particular, but i know there's gotta be so so many

it depends too ig heavily on what it is?? there's some old original stories of mine that i scrapped almost in their entirety, though i know some concepts/characters i'd be willing to recycle for use in something else.

w/ fandom stuff ofc, i'm sure we've all seen authors/artists lose interest in something they were posting and stopped updating it, leaving it unfinished. i can't exactly blame them; as much as it might suck for the readers/viewers that were invested, it would suck even more for the original creator to be forced to do something they've lost all passion for.

some things stay forever but you move on from others, and it's not necessarily a tragedy despite the years of mourning endured

weirdly specific artist asks

[inevitable-pretty-chaos]

I hate when interesting accounts don't have ask boxes, like what do you mean, I can't fly to your window, tap it with my beak and leave you a little letter??? :<

~Vi

[simpjaes]

sharing = caring [p.js | s.jy]

Jake thought he could get away with purchasing your panties off of your brother without anyone knowing. Unfortunately, the dorm life, where Jay exists literally three feet away from him at all times makes that impossible. or the one where jake tries to jerk it while his roommate is sleeping and jay just wants him to share a lil bit of what he has hidden under his pillow

minors dni! | requested by anonymous

WORDCOUNT― 1.2k

PAIRING― jake x jay x reader's panties

WARNINGS ― both jake and jay are fucking weirdos. bisexual jay. jake is just horny so he's like "well, ok i guess"

NOTE― tumblr hasn't been letting me post longer drabbles as an ask, so to the anon who sent me this idea, ur brain. mwah.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― masturbation, panty sucking, kind of guys kissing, cum, moaning, purchasing of panties lol

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Where did you get those?”

Jay stares forward at his roommate, narrowing his eyes for a moment in realization. 

“Found them.” Jake shrugs, trying to hide the item crumpled in his fingers, shoving them quickly into his pocket as if it would keep Jay from asking any more questions.

Unfortunately, Jay knows what those are, and knows who they belong to. He saw that fucking instagram post. Jake saw it too, Jay saw his bitch ass like the picture as soon as it was posted. 

It was a photo of you alongside your friends. You hadn’t noticed at the time the image was posted, and god, fuck, Jay wishes you never found out because the whole post was deleted shortly after. It was a panty shot, you sitting there on the front steps of a bar alongside your friends. If you zoomed in on the photo, because let’s be honest, Jay always zoomed in, you could see it. You could see your panties.

An accidental panty shot.

So, Jake would be out of his fucking mind to think Jay doesn’t know what those are. What he wants to know is how the fuck he got his hands on them.

Jake awkwardly stands, almost like a deer in headlights as Jay closes in on him, furrowing his brows and glaring at him.

“Jake.” Jay warns him with a deeper tone, “Where the fuck did you get those?”

Jake, famously bad at telling lies, stiffens up before dropping his shoulders entirely. 

“I paid her little brother for them.”

Jay lends him a look of disgust. Not because he thinks it’s weird, but more so because why the fuck didn’t he think of that first?”

“Bro…” Jay trails off, wanting to reach into Jake’s pocket and grab them himself, but he relents...for now. “How much did you pay for them?”

What Jake thought would be a scolding session, or like, a life long reason to mock and make fun of him turns out to be…oh. Now, hold on.

“Wait–” He takes a step back, raising a brow. “Why do you care?”

“Are they dirty?” Jay continues to question. “What do they smell like?”

Then, silence as the realization hits them both. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

Jake expected to spend his first night with these panties alone, but it seems like Jay isn’t willing to let him out of his sight with them. Weird, absolute freak behavior, but he gets it. 

He’d probably do the same if he noticed Jay twirling your panties in his hands too. Still, he’s been dying to jerk off since he got the first whiff of them. 

Yes, they’re dirty. 

He didn’t pay $200 for nothing. And your brother drives a hard bargain. Jake seriously almost dipped into his saving because the fucker wanted more for them. Fucking pervert, selling his sister’s panties to make an extra buck.

Whatever. 

The issue now is the fact that Jay just lingers.

“Weren’t you supposed to go to work tonight?” Jake groans, hating the dorm life and despising the lack of jerking off he’s been able to do with a roommate so close. 

“I called in.” Jay deadpans, rolling over on his bed and acting like he’s going to go to sleep. 

Jake leaves it at that, rolling his eyes in a huff and flopping down on his own bed. 

An hour goes by in silence.

Two hours.

Jake’s eyes are bloodshot by this point because he really is sleepy. He’s got class at eight tomorrow morning, after all. Thankfully, he can tell Jay is asleep by now. Which means…

He’s as quiet as he can be when he reaches under his pillow, nearly moaning at the feeling of the panties against his fingertips alone. He’s lucky Jay didn’t see him stuff them under here, because for a second he was almost worried they’d be nowhere to be found once he finally got to do this. 

And so, silently still, he grabs them and gently lays them across his nose, inhaling deeply before sliding his hand down and into his sweatpants. 

He breathes the scent of you in, imagining all sorts of things until he’s working up a sweat trying to hold in his silence. Even if he were being loud, he wouldn’t know it, his ears have been ringing since the first touch of his cock, if he’s being totally honest.

They’re ringing so loudly, and his eyes are shut so tightly that he doesn’t even notice Jay getting out of bed and standing in front of him. He only realizes when the scent of you is suddenly gone and a waft of fresh air fills his lungs instead.

His abs flex as he opens his eyes in a frustrated groan before he’s ripping his hand from his pants and trying to snatch the beloved item back. 

“What the fuck?!” Jake grips, not even hiding how hard he is before lifting himself from his bed, onto his knees to try and grab at Jay’s arm. 

Jay, already lost in the sauce much like Jake was previously, will be damned to hand them over so easily. So, he presses his two fingers into the seat of the panties and sucks them into his mouth.

Jake nearly sees red at that. 

“I paid for those.” He seethes out this time, cock jumping unintentionally at the way Jay’s other hand is blatantly down his own pants, unashamed, right there in front of him. 

“We can’t share?” Jay mumbles from around the panties, leaving the fabric in place while pulling his fingers out, reaching for Jake’s arm to pull him even closer. 

All Jake can do is follow the grip on him in shock, unsure of what to do but fuck, he was so close already. Jay seems weirdly okay with this…why can’t he?

“Have you not tasted her yet?” Jay mumbles again, rolling his eyes back briefly when he flicks his wrist against the head of his cock. 

Jake wouldn’t know what’s going through his mind even if you tortured him to say it. Genuinely, there is no excuse for him to lean forward like this, chasing the scent of your panties right up against his own room mate’s mouth. He tries to save himself from crossing that line by trying to tug them out with a gentle pull, but it doesn’t work. Why doesn’t it work?

Because Jay closes the distance for him. Not kissing him, but lying his lips against Jake’s with the panties acting as a barrier. And then? He presses his tongue out, as if giving the panties back to Jake through a kiss.

Jake moans when he slightly pulls back, hesitating as he moves his hand down his own pants again. Unsure if he’s moaning for the taste of you, the intense arousal in his gut, or, well, being kind of kissed when he like, really really needs it. Jay or not, human contact is human contact when he's this fucking turned on.

Already, Jay is close with the remnant of your pussy on his tongue, but opening his eyes and seeing Jake act just as insane as he does– he can’t help it. There’s something about the taboo nature of it. The way Jake paid for panties from a girl who barely knows either of them. The way he started loudly jerking off as if Jay wasn’t three feet away from him before. The way he flushed while watching Jay try and get some of it too, jerking himself off in the open like that.

The way Jake just..stays here, inches from his face and cums against his sweat pants with a broken moan, drooling all over the panties.

It’s not that his roommate turns him on or anything. Honestly, Jay could give less of a shit about Jake in terms of sexuality but that moan. So broken, so desperate. He couldn’t help himself, reaching and tearing the panties out of Jake’s slack mouth as he releases, just to shove them down his own pants, cumming all into the fabric to not only the taste, scent, and feeling of your panties, but the sound of Jake whimpering at the loss.

[monzabee]

the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.  

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?” 

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”  

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.” 

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–” 

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?” 

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?” 

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”  

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.  

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”  

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.” 

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.” 

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone. 

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.” 

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?” 

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”  

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment. 

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.  

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!” 

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.” 

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”  

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?” 

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–” 

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”  

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–” 

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”  

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”  

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”  

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.” 

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.  

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?” 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”  

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.  

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.  

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.” 

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?” 

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.  

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.  

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!” 

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover. 

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!” 

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”  

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.  

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?” 

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.  

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”  

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.” 

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?” 

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...” 

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?” 

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”  

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”  

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers? 

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?” 

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.  

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?” 

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?” 

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?” 

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.” 

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.  

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”  

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?” 

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.” 

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?” 

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?” 

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.” 

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”  

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?” 

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.  

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach.   But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.  

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.  

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”  

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.  

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.  

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.  

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.  

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”  

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”  

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to chilisade5594@gmail.com, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.” 

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.” 

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.  

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?” 

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”  

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”  

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?” 

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.” 

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.” 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.  

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?” 

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” 

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?” 

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.” 

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”  

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?” 

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.” 

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”  

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.  

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”  

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?” 

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”  

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!” 

“I know you don’t,” he nods.  

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.  

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.  

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!” 

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.  

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.  

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.” 

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.” 

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.” 

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.” 

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up. 

[shesacrified]

tag dump: updating tags & new verses!

[teamred]

obvious

✩‌ merchant!qimir x acolyte!reader | fluff | angst | humor | 2.3k

SUMMARY | during an evening of drinking with qimir, he strangely asks if you've ever thought about dating your master.

WARNINGS | kissing, drinking, implications of a spicy time post-story

RATING | teen+

NOTES | again this is probably outside of canon but all i can say is ilq (i love qimir)

///

In the lower level of Qimir’s newest target of a store invasion, several drunken bottles of alcohol and used shot glasses clutter the front counter. You sit across from him on a high stool, as if you were a customer to his bartending. 

Which wasn’t quite far off, since he was the one who poured and bought everything for you tonight. Qimir had called for a celebration; you had successfully raided a small village nearby, seizing all valuable goods and leaving no witnesses behind. You did it for yourself, but also for your anonymous master–the same one Qimir serves. 

While you are your master’s dedicated pupil, Qimir’s tasked with being your resourceful guide. He follows you across the galaxy, always having anything you need at your disposal and knowing where to go, who to find, and how to concoct everything from anything.

Sure, he may be clumsy and occasionally overly inquisitive, but you’ve grown to like him. 

So much that you're retelling the time when a female Gungan tried to fight you in a cantina on Tatooine.

“And so, it turned out they thought I was the one who stole her ex-boyfriend, but it was the human at the table next to mine!”

Qimir breaks into a smile and nearly spits out the lomin ale in his mouth. After a fit of coughing and swallowing his drink, he shakes his head fondly. He seems truly amused and fully relaxed, though perhaps mostly due to the alcohol.

A few beats pass. It's a comfortable silence at first. 

But then he starts playing with the stem of his bottle, and the air slowly begins to shift. It shifts entirely when he asks the next question–

“Why aren't you like this around him?” 

Him referring to your shared master. 

The mixture of spicebrew, lomin ale, Corellian wine, and whatever else you had has lowered your filter completely. You answer frankly, folding out your fingers to list the reasons. 

“Firstly, he needs to get me drunk. Secondly, he’s not you, Qimir. And third, disregarding everything I just said: how do you know I'm not?”

“Am I wrong?” he presses, his eyes fixed on you as he raises an eyebrow and takes another swig of his drink.

“I mean, if he eventually shows his face to me, maybe I could. But until then…” 

Nonchalantly, you lift a shoulder and down the rest of what’s in your cup. After finishing, you lean back onto the counter, resting your chin in your upturned palm, and wait for him to fill your cup again. 

And so he does, but Qimir becomes uncharacteristically pensive. Eyes focused on serving you, rather than on you. After pouring your drink, his playfulness with the bottle turns into a tight-fisted grip. Maybe drunk Qimir was more somber. Quiet.

“Maybe…” His voice drops to a lower, deeper register than you’re used to, his eyes avoiding yours as his mouth tightens. An index finger rhythmically taps against his bottle, like a dooming countdown. “Maybe he’s not sure if you’re loyal enough to see his face.” 

The sudden slamming of your cup against the counter breaks his demeanor, and he’s back to being his usual, easily-startled self. 

“Well, that frustrates the shit out of me because I respect him!” you cry, almost yelling at him. 

Qimir’s gaze sharpens, giving you his entire attention, and you stare back resolutely. Readying yourself, as if confiding in him might reach your master’s ears, wherever he may be. Hell, he probably was listening with a device somewhere on Qimir, on you, or within the store.  

“I obey him. I've killed for him. I’d do anything for him,” your voice slightly wavers, but you push on. “I am literally devoted to him with every breath in my body.” 

There’s a sting in your eyes, but you refuse to let yourself show weakness, even if it’s just Qimir in front of you. Bringing the cup to your mouth, you let the burn scald your throat, drowning any trace of sadness or frustration. 

You chug for some time. After a while, Qimir lifts a hand, but you abruptly stop drinking and interject with a tired chuckle and small smile; he awkwardly drops his hand. 

The serious moment passes swiftly with a twinkle in your eye. You silently thank the alcohol for that.

“Although, maybe that's half a lie.”

In the corner of your vision, you catch the intrigued quirk in Qimir’s eyebrow, along with a flicker of anger. Barely noticeable, but it’s there, and you wonder why he would be angry.

You waggle a finger. “Keep this between us, but”—you lean in closer and drop your voice to a whisper—“I'm probably more devoted to you than to him.”

You exchange a glance, and the expression on his face shifts from seriousness to amusement, the flicker of anger completely dissipated. He mirrors your earlier stance, resting his chin in his palm. 

“That's only because I help you all the time,” he says, granting you a soft smile that reaches his eyes. 

This is a rare moment from Qimir, so you try your best to commit it to memory. Remembering his warm glow, the crinkles around his eyes, and how close he is to you. So close that the hint of the alcohol in his breath brushes your face, but it’s not as strong as you thought it would be.

“Well, there's that…” you admit, nodding, and you break eye contact as you say–

“But you're also my friend, Qimir.”

You barely breathe the last few words out in a whisper, almost as if you were ashamed to say it. But you aren’t–worry merely runs rampant as you fear rejection or something of a similar shade, despite it being just a platonic confession. 

“I am?” 

His reaction causes you to peer back at him. He draws his head back with a tilt, and you’ve never seen him so puzzled before. There’s a brief pause as he gives it some thought, his eyebrows furrowing in contemplation.

Then, he nods his head and his lips curl into a crooked, almost cocky, grin. 

“Huh. I guess I am.”

You clutch your chest in jest and muster your best puppy-eyed frown. “Ouch, if I knew this relationship was that one-sided, I would’ve asked him for another one of his followers to replace you.” 

The glimmer in his eyes reads as good-natured, but the blatant flexing of his grip against the edge of the counter says otherwise. 

“You wouldn't.”   

You push back, jutting out your chin and getting close to him again with a flash of a smirk. 

“Oh, I absolutely would.”

You stare at each other, holding your ground. 

But then he breaks the little game when he slightly drags his lower lip between his teeth, followed by a fleeting glance towards your mouth.

Your breathing hitches. 

In an instant, the moment shatters when Qimir clears his throat and pulls back.  

“Do you…” Qimir begins hesitantly, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing a random spot on the counter. He inhales deeply, almost as if he’s steeling himself, then continues, “Have you ever thought you and him could be, like, something more?”

“You mean…” You squint, searching for the right words. “...have I ever thought about dating my master?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

You raise an eyebrow and stare blankly at him. 

“You've met him, right? We’re talking about the same guy?”

Before he answers, he sips again from his bottle. You become entranced by Qimir’s Adam’s apple as it bobs with each glug. Maybe these thoughts were being filtered through beer goggles, but if Qimir wanted to know about your current ranked dating choices, he'd probably be at the top of your list. 

A soft pop sounds as his lips detach from it. The word kissable flashes through your mind. 

“I mean, I know he's not really the talkative type but–”

“But what if he's butt-ass ugly?” you blurt out in a screech, pressing your hands into your cheeks in your drunken state.

“He is not butt-ass ugly,” Qimir cuts in, more defensively than you expect. 

You drop your hands and chortle loudly, so much that it echoes throughout the store. In disbelief, you grin ear to ear. 

“I thought you said you haven't seen him before!” you say, holding out an arm. 

“I—I didn't. Haven't! I haven’t,” he stammers, raising a hand and shaking his head. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “But why must you assume he's ugly?”

You groan, shaking closed fists and tapping them to your forehead. “Why else wouldn’t he take off that stupid mask?” 

You glance up, seeing Qimir’s nostrils flare as he opens his mouth, but you quickly cut him off. 

“And why would I like him that way anyway? All he does is just bark orders and share wise, yet oddly cryptic, phrases.” 

“Hey, so do I,” Qimir retorts, flicking the tip of your nose with his finger. The force he uses makes your nose sting a bit, but you’re sure he didn’t mean to flick you that roughly. In response, you ruffle your nose petulantly. 

You could definitely get used to being like this with Qimir more often. 

“Yeah, but you’re not as cryptic,” you point out, “and he’d be lucky if he was half as handsome as you, Qimir.”

You lightly touch his arm, expecting him to bask in your compliment, but he catches you off guard with a chuckle instead. 

“Why are you laughing at my compliment?” you ask, somewhat hurt.

“I'm just enjoying your company, my”—he hesitates for a second, as if catching himself from saying something else, before meeting your gaze—“my friend.” 

The way he says friend hangs in the air, carrying an unspoken weight. He shakes his head, as if brushing off a thought, and laughs awkwardly. “I’ve gotta get used to that.”

Surprisingly, he continues to dwell on the subject of you and your master. “I mean, if you really think about it, the guy's probably lonely. Probably also likes you a lot more than he lets on and–”

“Okay, stop.” You hold both hands out. “Why are you trying to set me up with him?” You gasp, “Oh, my god–is he your brother?” 

“Wow, time flies by so fast!” Qimir exclaims dramatically, quickly getting up from his stool and practically tripping on his own feet. “It’s getting late, and I’m gonna head to bed. Good night!” 

In the blink of an eye, he’s already darting upstairs to his temporary bedroom. 

“Qimir, answer me!” you call out. “Is he a distant cousin? You must’ve seen him before if he’s related to you.” 

“Good night, my friend!” he hollers back.

“Qimir, get back here!”

“Sweet dreams! And drink some water before you go to bed!” 

Even in moments like these, Qimir still manages to have the final say, his words always laced with the utmost care for you.

///

A few hours go by, the moonlight shining strongly in the night sky. In the comfort of your makeshift bed nestled in one of the corners of the store, you toss and turn aimlessly. Your mind replays everything with Qimir from the last few hours.

And then realization hits you like a sack of duracrete bricks.

You bolt upright up from the bed and switch between muffling a scream in your pillow and smacking it against your face. 

How could you have been so blind to how obvious it all was?

Throwing aside your covers, you carefully and quietly tiptoe upstairs. 

At the top of the stairs, with the help of a few burning candles nearby, you peek at the sight of Qimir snoring softly on his side, arms flopped in different directions; it warms your heart.

You approach and take a seat on the empty side of his bed, summoning courage to gently trace the contours of his face, following the sharp lines of his jaw. He stirs awake moments later, turning to face you directly. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Qimir mumbles groggily. He rubs his eyes. “Everything all right?” 

“Qimir, can you pass a message onto my master?” you ask urgently. 

“Right now?” he groans in annoyance, sitting up. “Can't it wait until morning?” 

“No, I'm sure you can pass it on now. It’s a pretty simple message.” 

You lean in. It’s a quick kiss as your hand rests on his arm. It has to be quick, or else you might change your mind. 

Plush lips press against yours. It’s still and tense for a beat, and then he replies with a slight kiss back. He’s the one who breaks away first, but he leans his forehead against yours.

“Uh, I… You want me to kiss him?” he asks in confusion. 

You slide your hands to the nape of his neck.

“If you mean kissing yourself, then yes, Master.” 

Like flipping a switch, Qimir’s demeanor transforms into something entirely else. His presence intensifies, exuding confidence and strength you’re unused to. His eyes darken, locking onto yours with a gaze that can penetrate your soul. 

His rich, deep voice returns from before, now tinged with authority.

“Took you long enough, my acolyte.”  

This Qimir—your master—moves swiftly with urgency. His grip on your body is firm, almost possessive. His kisses are passionate, his tongue exploring your mouth with fervor. 

“Told you I'm not ‘butt-ass ugly,’” he mumbles, almost growling, between kisses. You giggle, but your giggle quickly turns into a moan as he presses his body firmly into yours.  

“And my mask isn’t stupid. I'll have you know it saved me so many–”

You silence your master with another kiss, focusing on the present and pushing aside debates that could be saved for later.

For now, all you want is to remain in the comfort of his bed, letting the night truly begin, marking the beginning of what your master and you have unknowingly long awaited for. 

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ my muse (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : max verstappen x fem reader

summary : the chaotic private account of an artistic soul 💫

tw : fluff, a little chaos, suggestive

a/n : So this was requested anonymously, so if you are seeing this, Hope you like it 💫

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by max1, lordperceval, albono, lilihye, alexamiuex, and 37 others

maxwife the italian view 💫 one for the day ☀️ one for the night 🌝

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albono you stare at him, he stares at the podium ✊🏻

max1 stop being sour about driving a cart

lordperceval your just lucky you have a good car

max1 “ i have the longest contract ferrari has ever offered” lordperceval dw max, lewis is joining the misery gang 😮‍💨 hamsandwich fuck you mate

maxwife the only way you are staying at Mercedes is if you bang Toto 😮‍💨

hamsandwich he already is fukinh me 🤺

maxwife Toto follows me -

hamsandwich WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LET 40 YEAR OLD FOLLOW YOU! norizz and you are what- 18 ?

max1 YOU ARE MY WIFE Y/N, STOP FOLLOWING DILFS, TOTO 🤺🤺🤺

maxwife I was joking - fransisca.gnomes it's alright y/n, they all have a thing for Toto

totomercedes everyone, I am married and do not harbour any feelings for the same gender with all due respect

hamsandwich TOTO WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE !? max1 I will sign to Mercedes just for a shirtless pic 🚗 totomercedes check dms.

maxwife can. everyone. stop. simping. over. toto.

chillisainz lando, that ass be looking smashable 😮‍💨

norizz aww, my room is on 7th floor 🤭 georgey open the door, I am ringing the bell 💪🏻 maxwife if you want your balls to not be cut into pringles , leave my girlies and then suck your homies 🫷🏻 carmenvroom ily y/n 💌 maxwife I got your back @ carmenvroom and a knife and your balls @ georgey

lordperceval max,kiss me the way you kiss the trophy

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max1 charles, in another lifetime 😞

maxwife yall are supposed to be driving cars on the grid

lordperceval yet we drive each other crazy @ max1 max1 🤭💌

maxwife yall are banned, that's it, OUT 🤺

liked by max1, albono, hamwich, fransisca.gnomes and 28 others

maxwife the muse and the art 💫

view comments

max1 she gifted me the painting y’all

max1 I won in life 😙😌

alexmiuex love, we need to visit the museums together 🫶🏻

maxwife let’s ditch the men species carmenvroom count me in ✊🏻 fransisca.gnomes me too 🫶🏻😗

pierreneedsgas for gods sake, keep you wife away from mine

norriz did I miss something -

fransisca.gnomes when did I become your wife ?

lordperceval oh lord, GASLY KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT 🤐

maxwife OMG, KIKA mcdkcmdkcjdicjdicjdcijdcidjcidj

pierreneedsgas ITS OUT NOW, I SHOULD JUST TELL IT

hamsandwich my phone is out ☺️

albono his hands are shaking while typing 🌝

pierreneedsgas STOP ALEX ALBON

fransiscka.gnomes amour ❤️ ?

pierreneedsgas well, I wanted to do this in person, but ig my mouth spoiled it

pierreneedsgas Happy April’s Fool day 😊

maxwife that’s it, YALL ARE OUT INCLUDING MY HUSBAND

fransisca.gnomes girls, number 44

hamsandwich what?

carmenvroom ignore the real number 44

lordperceval Pierre, Alexandra just left the house

albono so did lily … max1 so did this account user

maxwife I have a name

max1 you are the love of my life, the reason I look forward to every day, the muse and the thrill to win each and every race max1 if you were not there, I would have not survived the lowest of my life max1 I want you to know that whatever I may say, I hold you above anyone else, and if needed, I would die for you without anything asked maxwife I am crying now 🥹 I love you so much my wdc ❤️ Pierre, take tips pierreneedsgas yes ma’am 🫡

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Tech’s benevolent-dictator-for-life to authoritarian pipeline

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/10/bdfl/#high-on-your-own-supply

Silicon Valley's "authoritarian turn" is hard to miss: tech bosses have come out for autocrats like Trump, Orban, Milei, Bolsonaro, et al, and want to turn San Francisco into a militia-patrolled apartheid state operated for the benefit of tech bros:

https://newrepublic.com/article/180487/balaji-srinivasan-network-state-plutocrat

Smart people have written well about what this means, and have gotten me thinking, too:

https://www.programmablemutter.com/p/why-did-silicon-valley-turn-right

Regular readers will know that I make a kind of hobby of collecting definitions of right-wing thought:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#tolerable-racism

One of these – a hoary old cliche – is that "a conservative is a liberal who's been mugged." I don't give this one much credence, but it takes on an interesting sheen when combined with this anonymous gem: "Conservatives say they long for the simpler times of their childhood, but what they miss is that the reason they lived simpler lives back then wasn't that the times were simpler; rather, it's because they were children."

If you're a tech founder who once lived in a world where your workers were also your pals and didn't shout at you about labor relations, perhaps that's not because workers got "woke," but rather, because when you were all scrapping at a startup, you were all on an equal footing and there weren't any labor relations to speak of. And if you're a once-right-on tech founder who used to abstractly favor "social justice" but now find yourself beset by people demanding that you confront your privilege, perhaps what's changed isn't those people, but rather the amount of privilege you have.

In other words, "a reactionary tech boss is a liberal tech boss who hired a bunch of pals only to have them turn around and start a union." And also: "Tech founders say things were simpler when they were running startups, but what they miss is that the reason no one asked their startup to seriously engage with the social harms it caused is the because the startup was largely irrelevant to society, while the large company it turned into is destroying millions of peoples' lives today."

The oft-repeated reactionary excuse that "I didn't leave the progressive movement, they left me," can be both technically true and also profoundly wrong: if progressives in your circle never bothered you about your commercial affairs, perhaps that's because those affairs didn't matter when you were grinding out code in your hacker house, but they matter a lot now that you have millions of users and thousands of employees.

I've been in tech circles since before the dawn of the dotcoms; I was part of a movement of people who would come over to your house with a stack of floppies and install TCP/IP and PPP networking software on your computer and show you how to connect to a BBS or ISP, because we wanted everyone to have as much fun as we were having.

Some of us channeled that excitement into starting companies that let people get online, create digital presences of their own, and connect with other people. Some of us were more .ORG than .COM and gave our lives over to activism and nonprofits, missing out on the stock options and big paydays. But even though we ended up in different places, we mostly started in the same place, as spittle-flecked, excited kids talking a mile a minute about how cool this internet thing would be and helping you, a normie, jump into it.

Many of my peers from the .ORG and .COM worlds went on to set up institutions – both companies and nonprofits – that have since grown to be critical pieces of internet infrastructure: classified ad platforms, online encyclopedias, CMSes and personal publishing services, critical free/open source projects, standards bodies, server-to-server utilities, and more.

These all started out as benevolent autocracies: personal projects started by people who pitched in to help their virtual neighbors with the new, digital problems we were all facing. These good people, with good impulses, did good: their projects filled an important need, and grew, and grew, and became structurally important to the digital world. What started off as "Our pal's project that we all pitch in on," became, "Our pal's important mission that we help with, but that also has paid staff and important stakeholders, which they oversee as 'benevolent dictator for life.'"

Which was fine. The people who kicked off these projects had nurtured them all the way from a napkin doodle to infrastructure. They understood them better than anyone else, had sacrificed much for them, and it made sense for them to be installed as stewards.

But what they did next, how they used their powers as "BFDLs," made a huge difference. Because we are all imperfect, we are all capable of rationalizing our way into bad choices, we are all riven with insecurities that can push us to do things we later regret. When our actions are checked – by our peers' social approval or approbation; by the need to keep our volunteers happy; by the possibility of a mass exodus of our users or a fork of our code – these imperfections are balanced by consequences.

Dictators aren't necessarily any more prone to these lapses in judgment than anyone else. Benevolent dictators actually exist, people who only retain power because they genuinely want to use that power for good. Those people aren't more likely to fly off the handle or talk themselves into bad places than you or me – but to be a dictator (benevolent or otherwise) is to exist without the consequences that prevent you from giving in to those impulses. Worse: if you are the dictator – again, benevolent or otherwise – of a big, structurally important company or nonprofit that millions of people rely on, the consequences of these lapses are extremely consequential.

This is how BDFL arrangements turn sour: by removing themselves from formal constraint, the people whose screwups matter the most end up with the fewest guardrails to prevent themselves from screwing up.

No wonder people who set out to do good, to help others find safe and satisfying digital homes online, find themselves feeling furious and beset. Given those feelings, can we really be surprised when "benevolent" dictators discover that they have sympathy for real-world autocrats whose core ethos is, "I know what needs to be done and I could do it, if only the rest of you would stop nagging me about petty bullshit that you just made up 10 minutes ago but now insist is the most important thing in the world?"

That all said, it's interesting to look at the process by which some BDFLs transitioned to community-run projects with checks and balances. I often think about how Wikipedia's BDFL, the self-avowed libertarian Jimmy Wales, decided (correctly, and to his everlasting credit), that the project he raised from a weird idea into a world-historic phenomenon should not be ruled over by one guy, not even him.

(Jimmy is one of those libertarians who believes that we don't need governments to make us be kind and take care of one another because he is kind and takes care of other people – see also John Gilmore and Penn Jillette:)

https://www.cracked.com/article_40871_penn-jillette-wants-to-talk-it-all-out.html

Jimmy's handover to the Wikimedia Foundation gives me hope for our other BDFLs. He's proof that you can find yourself in the hotseat without being so overwhelmed with personal grievance that you find yourself in sympathy with actual fascists, but rather, have the maturity and self-awareness to know that the reason people are demanding so much of you is that you have – deliberately and with great effort – created a situation in which you owe the world a superhuman degree of care and attention, and the only way to resolve that situation equitably and secure your own posterity is to share that power around, not demand that you be allowed to wield it without reproach.

[m-ilkiee]

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 3: The Lesser of Two Devils

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, smut (character x character), dubcon, noncon, DARK IMPULSE MIKEY, depressive thoughts, victim blaming, sucidial ideation, religious guilt & discussion (very brief), gaslighting, power imbalance, manipulation, abuse (domestic, verbal, sexual, finanical), love bombing, violence (physical, mental, sexual), slut shaming, peer pressure, dry humping, attempted rape, nonconsensual filming.

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

wc: 13.3k

[masterlist] [chapter 2] [chapter 4] [taglist]

a/n: the reason why this chapter didn't come out earlier was because I was sick and busy with school. Anyways comments, reblogs and anonymous asks are welcomed.

“DON’T you want to know what me and (name) talked about?”

Mikey doesn’t look away from the burger he’s eating, but he hears Izana loud and clear. The cool morning breeze hits his skin, his golden hair flying in the wind as the two men sit on the ledge of Toman’s balcony, legs dangling from the porch. On a normal day, Mikey wouldn’t be awake by this time, opting to catch some extra hours of sleep until he is forced to go to class. But with the possibility of you saying something to Emma about the incident at the car and Izana going ahead to fix it, he was too restless to go to bed.

He forgot that you could still tell someone, even with your promise. You had no reason to honor it, especially with how he treated you badly, So to get the voice message from Izana with you saying you will keep quiet, was surprising.

“You already told me she’d shut up about the whole thing.” Mikey murmurs, gulping down the last part of the food. “I don’t care about her beyond that.”

A chuckle escapes Izana’s lips as the tanned man takes out a cigarette pack from his pocket. He picks one out with his teeth, then stretches the pack to Mikey. Mikey shakes his head no, at least not now that he just ate a really nice burger and Izana merely shrugs, pushing it back into his pocket, before taking out his lighter. They sit in silence as the lighter flickers on, and Izana brings it to his lips, before shutting it off.

Mikey stares ahead of the weather as Izana smokes, the sun barely peeking out of the dense clouds surrounding it, meaning it was probably going to be a rainy day. He remembers his teenage years, whenever it was rainy and Shin had to go to work, leaving Izana in charge, the three of them would have rainy days, doing things like building large pillow forts, playing video games or a makeshift band with Izana on the guitar, Emma with her drumset she barely ever used and him on the vocals. He and Izana always got along, they were having too much fun to even think about fighting, and it made Emma happy too.

Eventually, as they grew older, rainy days were spent apart, with Izana either busy with work or smoking in his room and him busy with his own gang, in his own world.

And Emma; they left her all alone. Not like they had a choice, they just couldn’t bring themselves to drag her into the lifestyle they were knee deep in or endanger her by bringing her out with them. In hindsight, they were just trying to protect her, but in a way, Mikey knows she resents them for isolating her.

You were her act of defiance against their strict rules. She could hide it with her words that she was fine with her upbringing, but her actions speak even louder for herself. Mikey just wished she defied him in a better way than being friends with someone outside the Sano approved group.

Silence continues between the two of them as they do their own thing, watching the sun attempt to peek out of the dense clouds. Sometimes, Mikey feels like the sun, constantly competing with the cloud of darkness hovering above his head, waiting for his carefully crafted mask to slip just a little bit, so that it can consume him and leave him with nothing.

It already happened once with you in that car and he knows that it cannot happen again.

What happened was a mishap. Something he knows he shouldn’t do again, yet he doesn’t understand what exactly he did wrong.

It confused him to no end. Was it that you felt guilty because your religion said premarital sex is wrong? Or maybe he was too aggressive with you, pinning you down until you couldn’t move? It wasn’t like he had a choice because you kept on fighting him every step of the way.

He looks at his brother peacefully smoking, thinking about the earlier proposal he had offered. Come to think of it, what could you have told Izana that could have made him ask Mikey if he wanted to know?

“So, why did you actually do it?”

Izana’s hoarse voice startled the younger man, nearly making him jump out of his skin. Once he got his bearings, he responded with another question, confusion laced in his tone. “Do what?”

“The car incident. Like, really of all the girls, why her?”

Oh that. “She kept rubbing her thighs together any time I said something, and I thought she wanted relief.” He shrugged, but didn't look Izana in the eye. “She was asking for it-”

“You’re lying.”

Mikey goes silent. Izana must have finally figured out that he wasn’t being completely honest, he was way too observant when it came to others, especially his siblings. “I couldn’t stop myself,” he sighed out, finally facing the reality of the situation. “It was like everything she said or did seemed to offend me.”

“Is that so?”

“Well,” Mikey paused for a moment, thinking about that day. He was angry, but there was always something gnawing at the back of his mind whenever he saw you. The voices in his head made it difficult to think rationally and encouraged more impulsive actions, and that was truly the origin of the actions that happened in the end. “I also really just wanted to know how sleeping with her would feel.”

“Fool.”

“Excuse me?”

The white haired man doesn’t answer his question immediately, tossing the finished cigarette to the ground first, before pushing himself upright. “You heard me clearly. You’re a big fucking moron.” His voice is low and strained, fury lurking beneath.

Izana’s words struck a nerve, causing Mikey to stand up, dark eyes glaring right back at his brother. He thought Izana was on the same side as him in hating you, so why was he suddenly insulting him? “If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re blaming me and taking her side.”

“I AM blaming you.” He spits out, venomously towards Mikey now, eyes burning with anger. “Because of you thinking with your dick, you risked our relationship with our sister”

“So was I supposed to tell my dark impulses to go on vacation that day? It wasn’t entirely MY fault-”

“You drove her to the most secluded space in school. Do I look stupid enough to buy that excuse?”

Oh this was rich coming from Izana. “Are you insinuating I planned to rape her?” Mikey asked incredulously, not believing his ears. “I met her on the road and she asked for privacy. I didn’t intend to do anything, I’m not you.”

“You don’t get a moral high ground right now.” Izana spits back at Mikey, making the blond clench his jaw.  “You’re just as bad as me and you know it.”

“She can go to class and move the fuck on from whatever happened. If it were you in that fucking car, she’d be in a hospital-”

“And yet I went to clean up the mess you made without taking out my dick, you ungrateful little asshole.” Izana hissed back.

“Don’t call me little-”

“You know what I hate about you, Mikey? You’re so self-centered and self-absorbed that you don’t think about how your actions affect everyone else. You just want things to go your way and you can’t take no for an answer.” Izana laughs coldly. Mikey’s jaw clenched tightly, but stays silent as Izana continues to tease him. “Then again she’s the idiot who fell in love with you, so she better get used to that nasty habit of yours.”

‘What?’

Mikey feels like an ice bucket of water had been thrown on him. His mouth slowly hangs open, trying to process what he just heard right now.

“Don’t fuck with me-”

There’s no way that can be real. It had to be a lie or some kind of sick joke that Izana came up with, but he’s not laughing or smirking. Instead, he lights another cigarette, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. “Look” he said, blowing out a loud plume of smoke. “It was you who said we have to befriend that bitch. I’m guessing it’s because you want to get your dick wet and I don’t care. But if we’re going to pull it off and trap her, you’re going to do all the heavy lifting.”

“I’m not interested-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit Manjiro.” Mikey suddenly flinched at Izana’s harsh tone, the use of his government name sobering him up. “I know that you want to sleep with her. But you’re not going to just go in guns blazing. You’re going to convince Emma you like her by doing some grand gesture so that (name) feels like she can’t say no to you.”

Mikey stays silent, mulling over his brother’s suggestion. Izana can see right through him, even to his deepest desires and he knows it’s true. He’s attracted to your body and wants you.

“Okay fine.” He finally gives in. “But I don’t believe she loves me. She probably said that because you scared her.”

“Then you won’t be opposed to making a bet, right?”

Mikey smiles widely. He just wants to knock down Izana by a few pegs to prove him wrong.

“Fine.”

   “NGH, K-ken -more please-”

There is nothing more divine to Emma than what Draken was doing to her right now.

It was supposed to be a normal morning after a wild night. She had told Ken after round five, going to round six that she had a test tomorrow, one she absolutely could not miss and he had promised her no shenanigans.

Unfortunately, Ken is not one to keep those kind of promises.

She’s not sure why he decided to be touchy today; maybe it was the two weeks of no contact until you pushed her into accepting Draken’s proposal for a date night. Whatever it was, Draken was extra clingy this morning and he managed to convince her to let him eat her out for good luck.

Not like she’s complaining, for a change, she’d like to be the one on the receiving end.

Her legs were spread out wide on either side of Ken, his head buried in between her thighs, lips latched onto her clit, sending pleasurable tingles throughout her entire body. Yellow eyes cast down to Draken, her hand gripping his long blond hair, forcing him to stay put.

She let out soft moans at the gentleness of his tongue, the way his large fingers rubbed the sides of her waist to keep her grounded, occasionally rolling his tongue to her hole, before trailing back up to her clit. The girl felt her back lift from the bed, arching in a perfect circle, her heels digging into the bed. Ken hums into her pussy, sending vibrations onto her clit and a wave of electricity down her spine.

“Ken, fuck more-” she gasped, feeling his long tongue swipe up her clit, his mouth engulfed around her pussy. “- right there, k-keep g-going ah”

Emma felt like she was in cloud nine, so high with bliss underneath Draken’s touch. Whenever she was with him, all her problems disappeared for a moment and everything felt so, so good. She didn’t have to think about university or lecturers sucking up to her because of her affiliations. She didn’t have to think about Mikey and Izana bothering her.

She didn’t have to think about you.

You with your soft gaze, laughing gently at whatever joke she might have told you -it wasn’t that funny and yet Emma found herself smiling along with you. Your smile, so beautiful when genuine it reflects in your eyes. Your warm skin that she looks for any excuse to touch, to feel you. The way you looked at her shocked when she showed you the knowledge she retained from Taekwondo, underneath her sweaty body, your chest rising and falling.

‘Shit. I’m not supposed to be thinking about this now when Draken’s here. Not again’ She panicked, trying to focus on Draken’s ministrations again.

But her thoughts kept drifting back to you. Emma’s strong hands securing your thighs, pushing you down to her face until you're on top, her tongue working on your clit and hole while Draken eats her out as well. 

It was too late, the mere thought sent a wave of electricity to her clit, combined with Draken’s touch.

Her two favorite people, sandwiched between them. You’re more innocent, unskilled and Emma is willing to let both her and Draken pamper you, his large hands cupping your breast as he fucks into her while you grind on her face. Or you on the bed, Emma watching Draken fuck you stupid while she touches herself to the sight.

‘F-fuck it.’ She relishes in his touch and her imaginations, now switching to just you and her, your bodies pressed together as she rubs her clit on yours, gently kissing you. ‘I want her so bad shit. I-i want her so bad-’'

Emma cried out as she orgasmed hard, white filling her vision. Draken’s tongue worked her through the feeling, letting her grind on his face as she rode it out until she couldn’t, falling flat on her back on the pillows.

She tried to catch her breath the moment it was over, mulling over the feeling of post euphoric bliss. Draken crawled from between her legs and laid on top of her, lowering his lips to hers in an open mouthed kiss. She hummed, relishing her taste on his tongue, secretly wishing yours was on it too.

The man pulled away, resting his forehead on hers, just staying in silence with her as he usually did after a session. A pang of post nut guilt hit her for thinking about you like that. It felt so wrong and disrespectful, especially knowing how well you trusted her and how she cherishes you so much.

You’re her friend, she’s not supposed to imagine you in such vulnerable positions, not when you probably wouldn’t be comfortable with such thoughts and not when she is in bed with someone else.

Not when you might not have feelings beyond friendship.

She didn't realize her face was scrunched up in a frown until Draken rested his large palm to her face and pressed his finger between her brows, rubbing circles in the space. “Stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. “At least that’s what you told me.”

She rolled her eyes in response, swatting his hand away as she shoved her guilt at the furthest corner of her mind. “It’s a stupid myth I told you so that you stop scaring my other friends that don’t know you. And there’s nothing wrong with wrinkles.”

He smiled mischievously, the kind that Emma was used to when he was about to push her buttons like always. “So what’s with all the beauty products?”

“Get off my case Ken.” she hissed at him, but there was no malicious intent behind her tone.

“Besides you and Mikey steal my very expensive products any time either of you come here. Buy your own shit.”

“You steal the fries off my plate, too.”

“The fries are 5 dollars, Ken, you’ll live.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, still laying on their bed to catch their breaths as Emma’s thoughts began to drift back to you. It has been some months since she started to see you in that way. She didn’t know how she developed these feelings nor could she pinpoint the day they started. It doesn’t surprise her though, you were just her type; soft-spoken, genuinely kind and so innocent, the kind of person she’d want to shield from the world forever. And in terms of looks, god you were gorgeous in her eyes, like a painting that the artist took his time to create.

It wasn’t like she didn’t try to bury her feelings for you. She figured you liked Mikey when she saw the stars in your eyes any time you looked at him and tried her best to set you both up, only for her plan to slap you in the face when Mikey treated you like dog shit. She switched gears to Izana but that even went so much worse that she had to step in.

Emma doesn’t understand why they hated you. You had done nothing but respected them, no matter how much they both hurt you. How could anyone hate you really? You were just so fragile, so quiet and you avoided trouble, so why do her brother’s keep insisting you’re no good for her?

“What’s on your mind?”

Draken’s quiet voice brought her back to reality, and she let out a quiet sigh, rolling her body to face him. “Just thinking about (name).” she mumbled, her eyes meeting his. “And how I royally fucked up by trying too hard to introduce her to Mikey and Izana.”

He hums in response, his brows furrowed together. “Mmh.” He shifts his body a bit to reach out his hand, stroking her face. “Mikey’s so cruel to the poor girl. If I were her, I’d hate his guts by now. Izana too.”

“I don’t think she’s capable of hating anyone.” Emma sighs softly for the umpteenth time, leaning into his touch. You’re not the type of person who can hate someone for treating you badly, no matter what. You’re so insistent on forgiveness, even though you’re in so much mental anguish that it baffles Emma. “The other day after my fight with Izana, she insisted I should talk to my brothers and forgive them, that she understands where they’re coming from. I think…” Emma pauses. “... it’s because she likes Mikey a lot, y'know. That’s why she’s so insistent on forgiving him.”

Draken’s expression darkens at the statement, his hand stopping mid-stroke. The once calm atmosphere basking in the warm afterglow of their lovemaking had turned ice cold, tension hanging in the air and it sort of scared Emma.

“Babe?”

Whatever it was that had crossed Draken’s mind quickly changed on hearing her frightened voice. He quickly shifted back to his warm gaze, stroking her hair again. “I’m sorry. I was just…” he trails off, a sigh escaping his lips as he recomposes himself. “There’s something I actually want to tell you-”

Draken’s words cut off as her alarm went off. Emma groaned outwardly, realizing that it was already time for her to start getting dressed for her important test. Reluctant, the blonde rolled off the bed nude and walked towards the bathroom.

“So sorry Ken.” She murmured, opening the door to the bathroom. “But I’ve got to go to class soon. Plus, I’m picking up (name) since she doesn’t have a ride there and I don’t want her to spend the little money she has on a bus fare. You can tell me later right?”

Emma doesn’t see the despair on Draken’s face. “Yeah. I’ll call you after class.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

  A LONG time ago, you dreamed of freedom.

You wanted to do something with your life other than the carefully crafted plans your parents had for you. You were told women belonged in the kitchen, that they should always be hairless, stand behind their husbands, and seen but not heard. That life felt like prison; cold and unloving, with nothing else to do. Your father wouldn’t even let your mother have female friends, because it would encourage gossiping and his wife should never be involved with gossip.

Despite your mother being on the more introverted side, you could still see the terrible loneliness in her eyes. She was like a bird in a cage, forced to sing for people when they have guests, serving them with a smile, but not too bright, otherwise your father would have an issue with her.

You didn’t want to become like your mother, so you ran right into another cage that you can’t see yourself getting out of.

You stare at yourself in the toilet mirror as the faucet runs, your heart dropping at how terrible and haggard you look right now. Not only did you have to deal with Izana’s subtle threat hanging over your head, but the test you had written the day after was also terrible, as if you’d forgotten everything you had studied for. You still have no luck in finding a job and those nightmares of Mikey continue to plague you.

Within a span of a few weeks, your life had been thrown into chaos. You miss the days where you were worried about getting the approval of Mikey and Izana, where you didn’t know the uglier sides of them and how far they would be willing to go to keep you quiet. 

“I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I should have stayed back and dealt with it.” Your voice is low, strained from all the crying you’ve done since you excused yourself from your hangout with Emma.

Emma.

You can’t even tell your best friend all your heartaches. Even ignoring what Izana said, just seeing her chat about her date with Draken, a smile plastered all over her face, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. You’re no longer confident that she would stand up for you, seeing how Izana was so convincing that you believed everything he said about the entire situation being your fault.

‘I need to face reality. I’m just someone she met a few months ago and those are her brothers she’s lived with for years. Why would she believe me over them?’

You were told that God doesn’t give you burdens He knows you cannot bear, but this one might be too heavy for you to carry.

Reaching for the faucet, you hastily splashed water on your face, trying to calm yourself down. Worse things have happened to you, worse things will happen to you and this is just one of them. You can bear the pain, the shame of letting that happen to you, so long as you never let it repeat itself again.

“I’ll stay away from them.” You say out loud, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It’s a promise; you know it’s the only way to get them off your back. If you make sure Emma spends less time with you and more with them, they’ll leave you alone. “I won’t be a bother or attend any of their parties or force myself into their friend groups. I’ll just be Emma's friend and that’s it.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you stare in the mirror again. Easier said than done.

You touch up your face a little, putting on your lip balm and redoing your hair. You force a smile onto your face, adjusting your blue dress and walk out of the bathroom with false confidence that could kill a sensible man. You held your head up high as you made your way back to the canteen; life gets harder on a daily basis, but at least you have a chance at making things easier for yourself.

‘Avoid the brothers, find a job, study harder.’ You repeat to yourself as you make your way back to the canteen where Emma was waiting for you. You still long for freedom to live a life you chose for yourself and you won’t let anyone ruin that for you. It’s merely a stumbling block that you’ll get over. In ten years time, you’ll forget about your terrible childhood, you’ll forget what Mikey did to you and how Izana made you feel like everything was all your fault.

Someday, you’ll live your dreams that seem so far away.

‘I’ll live in a house that I love, I’ll have a job and maybe a pet. I’ll have more friends and I’ll be ha-’

Your thoughts die the second they come in your line of sight.

Mikey sits on one side of Emma, making a pouty face while she laughs at him. Izana sits on the other side with his cheek resting on his hand, a humorous smirk plastered on his face. To everyone else, it looks like a family having a fun time, bonding and laughing together, but to you, it's a mocking gesture, reminding you of your place in Emma’s life and how much worth you have. That they can do what they like and not feel the slightest bit of guilt while you spend days crying and washing out the dirt off your body until your skin feels raw.

Mikey is the first person to notice you, dark eyes looking into yours and for a brief moment he stares blankly at your frozen figure standing a few feet away, before switching to a more sincere look.

“Oh uh, (name),” the way your name rolls off his tongue makes you anxious. It’s so calm and reserved, like you’re old friends that haven’t seen each other in ages. Like he wasn’t the same man that forced himself on you in his car. “We've been waiting for you. You spent a lot of time in the bathroom, are you still sick?”

If you weren’t feeling sick before, you do now. He sounds genuinely worried and if you were as clueless as Emma, you would have believed he was. The others turn their attention towards you and you feel even more nauseous when Izana gives you a worried frown, yet his eyes are full of mirth.

He finds this entire situation entertaining.

Everything inside you wants to scream at them, tell them to just stop whatever they are trying to do, but all you do is stand and stare at them blankly.

“You’re shaking. Come on, sit down, before you fall.” Emma teases, thinking that you’re shaking because you were nervous and not angry. “Geez guys, look at what being mean to her has done. She’s scared of you guys! You better hope she accepts your apology.”

An apology. They were here to give you a fake apology. After everything they had done to you, they had the audacity to come here to offer you an apology they didn’t even mean, just to get in Emma’s good graces again, and she bought every single bit of it.

“We’re really sorry for being mean to you.” Izana chimes in a remorseful tone, but he doesn’t mean it, not even the slightest bit. “I shouldn’t have called you a whore or made fun of you like that.”

They could have done this earlier. Right after the party. You wouldn’t have minded the fake apology as long as Emma was happy and you all could be cordial with each other. But they chose to ruin your life first, before going ahead to apologize, as if it would mean anything to you. As if it would undo the damage they have caused.

“I was a jerk.” Mikey says in a very apologetic tone that could have anyone else fooled. “All these months, I assumed you were coming between us and I let jealousy push me to do things I never meant to. Let’s put the past behind us and be friends.”

‘Be friends?’

Frustration bubbles up at the bottom of your chest, your heart pounding loudly against your chest as you look at the two men who made your life a living hell. All this time, you were planning on ignoring them and moving on with your life like nothing happened but they just won’t do the same, despite them hating you. Was this just to torment you until you left Emma permanently?

Why are they doing this to you?

Right now, you want to tell them no, you don’t want to ever be friends with them, you can forgive them but you want nothing to do with them. But everyone else in the cafeteria is staring, expectantly waiting for your answer. You know if you say anything now, your life will be ruined. No one in this cafeteria will be on your side, either out of fear of the Sano family connection or loyalty to them.

Yet again, you’ve lost.

Pushing down your anger and frustration to the bottom of your heart, you decide it is best to accept their apology publicly and keep your sentiments to yourself, a forced smile on your lips. “I-it’s alright. I know everything you’ve done is all for Emma.” It’s technically not a lie, but it isn’t true either. You take your seat right across the rest of the Sanos quietly, feeling everyone’s watchful gaze on you, picking up your drink in shaky hands. “I forgive you both. Let’s put the past behind us.”

Your heart drops further to your stomach when you realize what you had just said. You feel even worse when you realize you meant every word: that you forgive them, because you’re tired of being angry. You’re tired of holding them in your heart and making plans to avoid them. If you were going to keep secrets from Emma, then you’ll have to actually put it behind you or it would eat you alive.

Anyone else who knew your situation would have called you a moron for doing so, but when you look at Emma, who is smiling at her brothers, you know you did what you think is the right thing and you did it for the right reason.

Love.

Right.

YOU feel overwhelmed.

With your dwindling savings and the looming fear of failure concerning your tests hanging over your head, it feels like the world is throwing one curveball after another at you. Applying to jobs had been even more disappointing. Apparently, no one wanted to take in a college student who was fired from her last job, not especially after that scathing recommendation letter from your former employer that said very concerning things about you.

You know it won’t be long until you have nothing left and time is running out for you. At this rate if you don’t get any job, you might have to ask someone for a loan or financial aid. But you don’t want it to get to that.

‘I still have some time before then. I can get a new job, no matter what it is.’

With no classes for the rest of the day, you decide to keep searching for jobs with a renewed vigor. pulling yourself up and googling jobs with vacancies, writing applications and reviewing them before sending it to multiple places. You’re sure if you send a hundred applications, one will definitely call you back. You kept sending application after application until you lost count of how much you’ve put out. Your back aches from being hunched over to type on your phone, your eyes are blurry from staring at the screen for so long and your mouth feels dry but you don’t stop sending mails.

Immersed in your application, you don’t realize that someone is practically pounding on the door of your room until the door flies open, Emma barging in, guns blazing with a terrified look on her face. You exit out of your email app and close your tabs quickly just as she comes in, screaming your name with a shaky voice.

“(Name)? (Name)!”

You rush towards her, panicking that something terrible might have happened to her. Grabbing her by her shoulders, you hold her in place, trying to calm her down. “I’m here, I’m here. Are you okay? Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

For a few seconds, it’s as if Emma can’t register that it’s you holding her, struggling in your grasp until she looks at your face. Her eyes lit up in recognition, a sigh of relief escaping her lips only for her relieved face to turn furious, like she’s angry at you.

Scratch that, she IS angry at you.

“For god’s sake (name) don’t scare me like that!” You look at your best friend, clearly puzzled by her answer to your question as you release her shoulders. As if reading your mind, Emma adds; “I’ve been knocking on your door for the past ten minutes and when you didn’t answer, I called you again for five minutes but it said your line was busy! So I panicked. I thought something had happened to you.”

‘Whoops’

 You put your phone on do not disturb because you didn’t want any distractions while you were applying for jobs. You also never told anyone that you had lost your old job and you were looking for a new one, especially not Emma. Knowing her, if she knew you were fired, she’d try to assist you with money despite your protests. You don’t want to use her kindness for your own benefit, especially in this friendship. Even if you agreed to borrow money from her, she would never let you pay it back.

You’re the kind of person to pull your own weight, not to cast the burden onto someone else. You don’t want her to feel obligated to help you.

“I’m really sorry for scaring you. I put my phone on dnd because I was busy-”

“You never, EVER put your phone on DnD, even when you’re doing your homework.”

Now she sounds suspicious, the last thing you want. Knowing yourself, you find it hard to lie and Emma can be persuasive in figuring out secrets, like how she had convinced you to tell her you had a crush on her brother when you first met her.

You really don’t want her to find out this secret.

It’s as if for the first time someone hears your prayers for once because Emma drops this issue instantly. “You know what? That doesn’t matter.” She brushed your hands off her shoulders, letting them fall to your side as she walked away. “If your phone was on dnd, it means you didn’t get my message. No wonder you’re not dressed up.”

‘Message?’

For the third time today, your face scrunches up in confusion as Emma walks up to your wardrobe and starts digging through it. “What message?” You ask, tentatively. You hope it doesn’t have anything to do with either of her brothers - two people you’ve been avoiding for a while now. Just because you’ve given them grace doesn’t mean you want to be associated with them. It’s hard to not feel some form of resentment for what they did to you.

Without looking up from her task, she says cheerily, “Mikey and Izana said they want to take us out shopping today!”

Your heart drops at the statement. Just as you feared. Maybe things will never go your way and you just have to accept life as it is.

“Are you sure about that?” The last thing you wanted was to arrive at a place, only to find out your presence is unwanted, again.

“It’s not going to be like the last party, I swear.” It’s as if Emma can read your thoughts, because she dismisses the idea immediately. “Mikey practically begged me to drag you out- Oh this looks cute, come here (name).”

Despite being unnerved, you make your way towards Emma in strides until you’re besides her. You stand there, perplexed that of all the people, Manjiro Sano, who you’re sure despises you, asked for you to come with them. ‘Or maybe it wasn’t like that.’ You try to rationalize the whole situation. ‘Emma might have asked if I could come and he told her to go ahead. Maybe Izana wasn’t in the mood to protest it either, since he seems okay with my presence. Or he wants to test me to see if I’d say a peep.’

“I can hardly believe Manjiro would want me there.” You decide to voice out your doubts as Emma puts a couple of outfits on your body to see what matched. “Or that Izana wouldn’t protest my presence there. Just because they apologized doesn’t mean they automatically like m-”

“This dress looks so pretty on you. You’re totally wearing this.” Emma cuts you off, putting a white fitted dress with slight ruffles at the end, as if she wasn’t even listening to you. You’re about to voice your concerns again when she adds. “(name), my brothers never ever apologize to anybody. Mikey’s selfish and immature when it comes to taking accountability, even when he’s caught red handed and Izana is too prideful to ever admit he’s wrong. But they did that for you. Do you know how much of a big deal that is?”

“You had to give them the silent treatment for them to do it-”

“They still wouldn’t have apologized, they would have threatened to hurt you or put you in danger, as long as it meant you were gone and they didn’t have to say sorry. Sometimes, my brother’s pride is much more important than I am to them.” You feel a chill run down your spine when you register that Emma’s silence could have meant your disappearance. Suddenly, the gun in Izana’s hands last time wasn’t just a threat, it was a promise and it made sense now when he called you a fool for trusting him. “But they laid down that pride, for you. You. Don’t you understand?”

“I don’t-”

“I think my brothers are in love with you.”

“HUH!”

‘Excuse me?’

Your mouth fell open in shock, trying to process what you just heard. Their apology, the fake acting, everything worked well; too well in fact that Emma was suddenly jumping into the wildest conclusions, conclusions that not even in your wildest imaginations you could jump to. Maybe if you were still naïve, you would have been elated at the idea of the two brothers liking you in any capacity. If Mikey hadn’t sexually assaulted you and if Izana hadn’t pointed a loaded gun at your head, you would have believed that lie hook, line and sinker.

But you know the truth. Neither of the brothers are capable of loving you.

You don’t say anything to counter Emma or change her mind. Maybe it’s best she thinks they’re in love with you and live in her headspace that her plan of endearing you to her brothers worked. It’ll keep her less suspicious. “Well, don’t be shocked babe, it’s not just them, even the rest of the executives have a crush on you. You’re a work of art painted by god himself and you have the personality of a fucking saint, who wouldn’t love you?” She giggled, pushing the dress into your chest. “Now go shower and put this on. I’ll do your hair and makeup when you come out. I’ll tell the boys we’re going to be late.”

‘Yeah. Who wouldn’t love me?’

You force a smile as you disappear into the bathroom.

    IZANA knows you’re beautiful.

It’s not something that could be denied. Anyone could insult you about not having money or being a prude, but no one could ever call you ugly and mean it. You’ve got that sort of grace that many girls don’t have, not just the looks, but the purity of your soul and a heart of gold. Your innocence is like a white cloth, with no blemishes, no stains, because of your hard upbringing and strong morals.

To him, you would be fun to ruin.

He’s not the only one that can’t take his eyes off you. Mikey’s more obvious with his staring, watching your every move as you walked towards them alongside Emma. Dressed in a white short dress with ruffles at the bottom and a blue lace trim, your makeup is rather cutesy, doll-like even, making you look much more innocent than you usually do. Your demeanour today is not so different, donning your usual shy appearance, eyes cast down to your feet as opposed to Emma’s bright, preppy aura, her chin up and eyes alight.

Like night and day. You two couldn’t be any more different.

Mikey’s the first to react, ever the affectionate brother, pulling Emma into a tight hug the second she stepped in his vicinity.

“Emmaaaa”

Aware of his displeasure about them being two hours late, she hugged him back with equal intensity, rubbing his back to soothe him until he calmed down. Izana notices you looking at their interaction with a longing gaze in your eyes, and at first, he wonders if you want to hug Mikey too. It wouldn’t have surprised him, given how desperate you are for any form of affection, but then he remembers you too once had a family and you had elder brothers.

‘I wonder if she misses them.’

He’s cut off by his thoughts when Emma launches herself at him. He catches her in time, hugging her tight and patting her hair, Mikey also joining in the hug too, dorayaki always switches on his more affectionate side. You can only stand there awkwardly with your hands by your side, looking away from the three siblings as if you’re intruding in a private moment. Izana decides to be merciful enough to stop taunting you with their love.

“I think we’re making your friend jealous.” His purple eyes meet yours as he makes the statement. Your eyes widened as the three siblings separated, stammering out shaky excuses, clearly embarrassed that you were caught staring. “N-no, I don’t mean to- I-i mean I-i’m not… you can keep hugging I don’t mind… I’ll just…”

There it is again. That shyness as you looked down at your feet, trying to hide your flustered gaze away from them. Izana thinks that perhaps his favourite trait of yours is the ability to get so worked up easily, it makes it so fun to tease you.

“Aww, (name), do you want a hug too?” Emma eggs on, making you even more flustered. Oh so you also swing that way, interesting. “You must be feeling left out-”

“Emma!”

Your outburst only makes the three siblings laugh at you for a full minute before dropping the whole thing altogether. Besides, they were in public, any further teasing would have turned into something more charged.

He wonders what would happen if you were alone with either of them.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Emma says, walking back to you and grabbing your arm, pulling you alongside her. “Come on, we came out too late and all the stores are gonna close within four hours. Let’s go!”

Izana follows behind Mikey, until he catches up with him. He realizes his brother is silent, which was odd since he was so chatty and affectionate just minutes before. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when he follows Mikey’s gaze to your backside, lust practically oozing from how he was undressing you with his eyes.

Izana gets it. Your dress makes your body look good and your ass looks amazing in it; if he had any less control, he would have pounced on you in the middle of the mall.

But for someone who said he doesn’t want you at first, Mikey looks like he wants to drag you into a corner and fuck you like a slut right now. Sometimes, he wonders why Mikey chooses to lie and deny himself of things he wants instead of asking his dear big brother for help.

The white haired male leans closer to Mikey, his voice low enough for only the both of them to hear. “Don’t forget our bet.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

    YOU’RE not buying anything.

It’s a blow to Mikey’s pride that you’re just standing there, not touching anything.

He thought you’d jump at the opportunity to take his money and run wild with it, so that he’ll call Izana’s bluff about you loving him. For someone as poor as you, free money is like a dream come true. He knows your type of woman; pretty, nothing up in your head apart from books and the desire to want something more. He’s dated girls below and at his financial ladder, and most of the times, the poor girls love to drain him dry of his cash- not like that would ever happen, what’s a few million dollars gonna do to his wealth

It makes him feel less guilty when he eventually takes his own payment in kind, letting out his dark impulses when he has desires to be fulfilled. He drains them of all the love and adoration they can give to him until there’s nothing left for him to lord over.

Mikey watches you from the corner of his eye, the way you take note of each outfit before just nodding and moving to the next one. It annoys him. ‘Do you think you’re too good for an expensive designer brand (name)?’

Eventually, he gets up from his chair, excusing himself from one of Emma’s fitting sessions to meet up with you. He doesn’t miss the way your hand shakes nervously as you hide it behind your back, giving him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Oh hey Mik- Manjiro. Do you need anything?”

“Don’t you like anything in this store?”

“W-what? Of course I do, the clothes here are pretty-”

“But you aren’t buying anything.”

It’s your turn to be confused, looking at Manjiro like he had two heads. What could possibly be going on in that head of yours that made his statement so surprising? “If you don’t like anything in this store, I could take you to another place while Emma and Izana stay here. We can meet up with them later.”

You look at him for a few seconds, blinking once, then twice before smiling at him, a bit more honest this time and to his dismay he feels something hot burning in his chest and spreading to his face. “Oh, that’s nice of you,” your words come out in a drawl, eyes half-lidded as you thumb one of the clothes. “But the truth is, everything in this mall is much too overpriced, so I can’t really afford anything, but it’s how life is. I’ve worked in a store like this before, I can tell you that I buy similar clothes in the thrift store for less and save money for my next year tuition while looking good. Quality isn’t too different either and I’m happy.”

For the first time, Mikey really takes a good look at your face, because he’s sure you’re not the same person; talking about responsibility and budgeting instead of scuffing at your feet like you usually do.

He understands why Izana called him a self-centered fool that never noticed anything that didn’t involve himself. The world has given you so much pain and suffering and yet, you work around it to just survive and move on, not once blaming him for anything.

He hopes for your sake, Izana isn’t right for saying he’s in love with you.

“Manjiro?”

There’s a softness to your gaze when you look at him, as opposed to other girls who stare at him like he holds heaven and the earth in his hands.

It’s the same way his mother used to look at him.

He quickly pushed that thought aside, nearly appalled he compared you to his mother. If he didn’t know better, he’d think you love him unconditionally. But that’s not possible. No one loves a stranger unconditionally, there has to be something you want from him.

But that’s fine, you’ll help each other plenty.

“(Name), you don’t know why I told Emma to bring you here?”

“You wanted me here?”

“I promised you I was going to take you out shopping that day in the car.”

You wince visibly when he mentions it, and it annoys him, you’re acting like he did something horrible like rape you. Honestly, if you’re going to keep acting like this, maybe he should just do it, then you’ll have a reason to be terrified of him. “I’m trying my best to forget that day ever happened and put it behind me. You already apologized to me and I forgave you. You don’t have to do anything to make up for it-”

‘All this niceness is making me sick to my stomach. I need to shut her up fast.’

Before you could finish speaking, Mikey called one of the saleswomen around, telling them to come quickly.

“What are you-”

“Help her pick whatever she wants. I’ll pay for it.”

“Yes sir. Follow me.”

You look mortified, about to open your mouth to protest, only to be dragged away by the saleswoman before you could voice your grievances.

From the corner of the room, Mikey can feel Izana watching you both, an amused smirk etched onto his lips and Emma practically swooning over how romantic it was that Mikey wants to spend it on you.

‘Emma buys it. Perhaps I should listen to Izana more often.’

  YOU hate being the center of attention. If you knew that this kind of thing was going to happen, you would have doubled down on not coming with Emma.

“Let me buy your food (name)-”

“No little brother, you’ve spent enough, I can take care of it-”

“I’m not complaining about spending money now am I?”

“Focus on getting your kiddie meals, let a man take care of the bills.”

You hate this so much. You’ve heard of the Sano brothers competing against each other for the pettiest of reasons, but you never expected to be one of them. Now, you can’t even eat in peace after spending hours on your feet trying on clothes.

You’ve heard whispers of people calling you a gold digger. The store clerks, other patrons, anyone who happened to see you buy all those things have said horrible things about you. Making assumptions that you must be sleeping with the Sano brothers - their newest attraction and predicting your downfall soon enough because you must have seduced them.

Here in this food court, everyone is giving you a dirty look for not only holding the line, but because of their preconceived notion; you’re not worth the hold up.

And it’s giving Emma even worse ideas, really fueling the theory that they’re “in love” with you. But you know the truth. It’s like when your brothers would fight amongst each other to get a pretty girl, only to use and dump her because she’s just a prize.

Mikey and Izana don’t like you, they’re trying to outdo each other.

“Manjiro, Izana”

Their bickering stops the moment they hear you calling them. They slowly turn their attention towards you, their gazes burning holes into you for interrupting their conversation. You’re careful with your next words, it’s easier to tolerate them treating you like a pinup doll than them hating you and you don’t want to make them angry either, knowing fully well they’ll hurt you the second Emma isn’t looking at them. “I’m so sorry for causing all this commotion and keeping you two from eating. How about you both get something to eat first? I haven’t made up my mind yet, maybe we can get something to go when you’re done.”

You hold your breath, praying to God that they take this as you being an idiot for putting them first and just do as you asked. Luckily for you, your relief was immediate as they suddenly relaxed, mumbling “yeah, you’re right.” And “I’m actually hungry” before doing as you said. A sigh of relief crosses your lips as they finally get their separate orders and make their way back to the private booth they ordered, guards standing outside waiting for you three to be back.

Emma’s eyes lit up in amusement as you came in and sat next to her, a smug smirk tugging on her lips, as if telling you ‘they’re so head over heels in love with you.’ “Seems like you didn’t get any food, (name)” her tone is teasing. You know she has good intentions, but that’s the last thing you want to hear after the embarrassing ordeal you just went through right now. “Couldn’t decide between spicy or sweet? You can just pick both.”

You know exactly what she’s insinuating, but honestly, you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. You feel like what they’re doing is backing you into a corner, it’s going to be harder to believe that both of them hurt you, especially with everything that they’ve done. It’s not like you can say no because they’ll get angry and hurt you again for insulting their pride. And if you do keep their gifts, they’re not above using it to make you do things you don’t want to.

‘Just look on the bright side.’ You try to think positively. ‘They might not go to the extreme since Emma is watching them closely-’

“THIS DOESN’T HAVE A FLAG ON IT. I’M NOT EATING IT.”

Of course. Things can never go so smoothly whenever you find yourself in the company of the Sano brothers.

“Mikey not this again. Ken is not here to put a flag for you and I’m not doing that for you either.” Emma sighs in annoyance. “You’re twenty-four, not fourteen, eat your damn food.”

“I’m not eating this shit.”

You thought it was a rumor that Mikey has an obsession with flags and wouldn’t eat without it, but this being a fact was … shocking. You watch as the man pouts, like he’s not the feared president of Toman’s fraternity but a spoiled kid; it’s somehow cute, the way he looks distraught over his food. ‘Reminds me of my younger cousin who wouldn’t eat unless someone fed him. Specifically me. Moments like this make Mikey seem so human.’

“Come onnn” Emma groans. “Mikey eat! You said you won’t do this again-”

“No”

Emma’s at her wit ends at this point and turns to Izana, but quickly dismisses the idea of asking him for help, probably because it would cause another fight, turning to you instead. “(Name), please convince him to eat something” Emma pleaded. “Trust me, you don’t want to be around a starving Mikey, he can be very snippy.”

You want to reject the idea, but with Emma’s pleading gaze and your inability to say no, you decide to try. You’ve had experiences with little kids who dig into their heels, refusing to do anything, and compromise is always the answer. You think that would work on Mikey too. “Manjiro, we don’t have a flag here or anything, what can we do to help you eat?”

He’s silent, still pouting as he thinks of your proposition for a few minutes until his eyes light up, a devious smirk slowly crawling onto his lips as he stares at you.

“Sit on my lap and feed me.”

Emma nearly chokes on her food, coughing loudly as she drinks water in an attempt to catch her breath. Izana only chuckles at Mikey’s bizarre but not surprising request, continuing to enjoy his now premium entertainment. You think it’s a joke, asking him to be more serious until Mikey repeats his request with a serious expression on his face. “Sit on my lap and feed me or I won’t eat this shit. I’ll even throw it away.”

‘This cannot be happening’

“Manjiro we’re in publi-” You’re cut off by Emma kicking you hard under the table, her eyes sharp enough to cut through glass. Stifling a cry of pain, you turn to her, your voice in a low whisper. “This is too much. What if someone see us-”

“And so what? This is your chance to cozy up with Mikey. He’s willingly let you touch him which means he definitely likes you. You have to stop being shy about your own affection.” She hissed back. You want to tell her that this has nothing to do with being shy with your affection, but has everything to do with Mikey’s previous actions whenever you got too close to him. “And there’s nothing dirty or wrong about feeding him and sitting on his lap. It’s just an innocent thing.”

“B-but-”

“(Name) just please. It’s a private booth, no one’s gonna look inside. Mikey has problems with eating, just this once, please please-”

Emma’s begging eventually gets to your soft heart and you cave in, pushing yourself up from your end of the booth and crossing over to his side. Mikey’s smile only gets bigger as you lower yourself onto his knees so that he doesn’t get the wrong idea, ignoring the way your legs were shaking from how nervous you were. You reach for the spoon to start, only for two strong hands to yank you forward until your ass sat comfortably on his thighs, earning a gasp from you.

“There, that’s better.” He murmured. “You’re much more comfortable like this.”

You’re not, but you know he doesn’t care. It’s his and Izana’s goal to cross as many of your boundaries as they can, just to see how much they’ll get away with.

‘Just do what you’re told. It’ll be over before you know it.’

Swallowing the utter embarrassment and nervousness you felt right now, you picked up a spoonful of food and angled it to his lips, a smile on yours to hide your true emotions.

“Open wide.”

Surprisingly, Mikey’s receptive to your feeding, reducing the embarrassment by at least fifty percent. You take the job as seriously as you can, easing him into opening his mouth and encouraging him to chew and swallow like you would your cousin and he does as he’s told without much of a fuss, his eyes glazed over in bliss, despite Izana constantly looking like he wants to laugh and Emma staring at the two of you like a couple out of a romance story, her eyes almost in hearts.

With more eager bites Mikey takes, you get more comfortable on his lap -apart from the hard thing poking your behind, most likely his keys-, your hand hovering under his spoon to avoid his food from spilling on his clothes. Emma may have a point, there was nothing wrong with feeding him, as long as he eventually ate something and perhaps he was just too lazy to do it on his own.

Unlike the other encounters, it doesn’t feel dirty or wrong, Mikey doesn’t creep a hand underneath your dress or touch your thighs, despite the booth being private enough and the table large enough to cover him if he attempts to do so. Izana doesn’t make lewd jokes about it either, apart from muttering ‘pervert’ and ‘spoiled brat’ to Mikey’s hearing -which makes him pout briefly- and Emma thinks it’s innocent enough to take videos of you two being cute together, sending it to their other friends.

It was weird, but seeing him wait on you patiently instead of yelling at you was nice. It’s been a while since you took care of anyone and he looked so innocent with his puffed up cheeks and bright eyes, waiting on you to feed him.

This was definitely the sweetheart, cheeky Mikey everyone talked about whenever he was brought up in a conversation of attractive men. The one you fantasized about when imagining how nice he’d be to you as opposed to his cold demeanour.

But still, you know it’s not permanent. It doesn’t make him any less cruel, just more human. You know it’s an act, but it still makes you sad regardless.

You wished he was kind to you all the time.

Emma’s phone pings with a new message in the middle of videoing you both, brows furrowing as she reads the text carefully. You all notice the sudden change of mood, from her usual chirpy self to a troubled expression.

“I totally forgot, I promised Yuzuha to help with her and Mitsuya’s project.” she hurriedly began picking up her things. “I’ve gotta go. You guys better drop (name) at her place safely.”

‘No! Don’t leave without me’

You’re about to open your mouth and tell her you want to leave with her, but you feel Mikey’s hand on your waist gripping you tightly, the warning loud and clear: keep your mouth shut. 

“Sure Em. We’ll get her home safely. Promise” Izana speaks for you, his eyes glimmering with mischief. Reassured, she pecks both her brothers’ on the cheeks before giving you a not so subtle wink, encouraging you to ‘have fun’ with her brothers.

You wish she was not so trusting of her big brothers.

  YOU have a bad habit of denying the ending of a book, until you reach there and realize there’s nothing you could do to save the protagonist.

You remember crying after reading “Lolita” for the first time. Emma had warned you beforehand that justice is never served at the end of the story and yet while reading it, you half-expected - no hoped for- someone to jump in and save the little girl. When you read Macbeth, you hoped he’d return to his senses before killing the king that was his good friend. When reading Hamlet, you hoped he would tell Ophelia he was sorry for killing her father, that he’d tell her he loved her before she died. You hoped Juliet would wake up before Romeo drank the poison, stopping him from killing himself, despite reading all these stories over and over again.

But just like your life, these stories were tragedies and the characters were doomed by the narrative.

You knew Emma had unintentionally sealed your fate when she left you in the care of her brothers to meet up with Yuzuha and you tried rationalizing every action that led you up to this point while in the car with the brothers heading off to your dorm. Could you have avoided hanging out with Emma today? Maybe not. She would have noticed you shying away from her brothers and become suspicious. Rejecting any offer given to you by the Sanos could mean insulting them.

Mikey is someone who hates hearing ‘no’.

‘There’s no point in thinking about the what ifs’ you tell yourself solemnly. ‘Every choice I could have made would have brought me back to them, regardless.’

The car revs to a stop at your dorm, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Thank you very much for everything.” You don’t look up from your lap, too scared to face them now that you’re alone. “I’m grateful for all the things you bought me.”

“You probably need help in carrying all of that, don’t you?” Mikey doesn’t acknowledge your thanks, but you don’t really expect him to. “I’ll help. Izana, you can wait, right?”

“I’m giving you an hour.”

You want to reject his help, but Izana’s the one driving and you’re at the backseat with your properties. You saw him when he put on the child lock earlier on, so you know you couldn’t just open the door and make a run for it.

You wait patiently for Mikey to come out of the passenger’s seat, opening the door and taking out the larger clothes and shoes, leaving you with only the little things like smaller clothes and the few jewelry you bought.

Correction, Mikey bought for you.

You go ahead of him, being the one who knows your room and the two of you walk in silence. Tension lies thick between the two of you as you make your way up the stairs, past the other rooms until you reach the end of the hallway. Like a predator, he watches you carefully as you turn the locks with trembling hands, opening it completely and entering inside. He doesn’t wait for an invitation, letting himself inside the room and kicking the door shut behind him.

Your eyes try to look anywhere but him as you open your wardrobe and arrange your new things. From the corner of your eye, you watch him drop your shopping bags beside your feet and move towards your bedside table. As you bend to pick up the rest of the clothes to neatly fold into squares while you figure out what to do with it, you spot him thumbing your Rosary beads between his fingers, as if he’s deep in thought.

“Seen this with Hakkai before.” He murmurs just enough for you to hear. You almost forgot he and Hakkai know each other, and with your bitter history with the Shibas, you assume that they probably have something to do with Mikey’s notion about you. “What do you use it for?”

“Prayers” You answer. “For protection, too.”

He laughs in response; it’s dark, tinged with mockery as opposed to his earlier laughter with his family, making your rate speed up until you can hear it thrumming in your ears. You know why he’s laughing and if you didn’t find yourself in this kind of predicament with him, you would have found it funny too.

“A lot of good it has done in protecting you.”

You don’t say anything in response, opting to stay quiet so that you don’t argue or agree with him. He has a point, a lot good it has done in protecting you when you wore it that day in Mikey’s car. Or when Izana broke into your room to harrass you. Or when you press it close to your chest in the night, hoping to keep your nightmares away. At this point, you’re sure your sins are too great for God to care about you anymore or hear your prayers.

After all, He couldn’t bear to look at his own son when the sins he was dying for was much too piled up on him, how much more you?

Mikey doesn’t say anything more, dropping the beads back before focusing his attention elsewhere. You continue with your tasks silently, slowly folding your new clothes in squares attempting to make space for them and wasting his time, hoping one hour would come by quickly so that he would leave.

‘I just need one hour to pass-’

“Are you in love with me (name)?”

You freeze.

The answer should be simple, shouldn’t it? After all he’s done to you, every humiliating ordeal he put you through the entire time you’ve known him, you should loathe his very presence. Resentment always lurks beneath your skin whenever you see him with another girl, knowing fully well he could get whoever he wants, he can sleep with them whenever he pleases and yet he chose to not only hurt you, but go on with his own life while yours falls apart.

Yet, you can’t say it.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear his footsteps inch closer, his eyes burning holes on your back. You shudder when you feel his hand on your bicep, roughly turning you around to face him. Dark eyes scan your features, before meeting your own, staring into them as the silence stretches on.

“Oh” he said, still maintaining his grip on you. Your silence is a resounding answer to his question and now all you feel is shame. For being romantically attracted to him. For being so weak that you couldn’t hate him or push him off you. You want to crawl up in yourself and hide away from him, so that he can’t see how pathetic and vulnerable you are anymore.

“You look ashamed (name). Is it because you want to resent me, but you can’t? Or because you know I don’t love you?” His free hand cups your face, cleaning the tear drop that had rolled down your cheeks, a gesture so gentle and yet, at the same time so cruel when you couple it with the fact that his fingers are digging into your arm painfully. “It’s okay. You don’t need to cry.”

“M-manjiro, please go hom-”

You hate yourself. You hate how you’re melting into his touch like you’re ice in his warm hands. You should be pushing him away and telling him to go to hell, to stop touching you. Instead, you let him drag you away from the wardrobe towards your bed, the inevitable. Heart thudding against your chest, body trembling with tears streaming down your face, you brace yourself to be shoved on the bed roughly and taken advantage off by force, your pleas of mercy and forgiveness ignored.

Only for him to let go of you.

You stand there, confused as he sits on the bed comfortably, his legs slightly spread. His face looked so calm and impassive, like this was his room, his space and you were the one out of place. “Come sit here, (name)” He points at his legs. You don’t move, frozen on your spot as the realization dawns on you about Mikey’s plan.

He wants you to be a willing participant.

You take a step back, ready to run away from here as fast as possible, but Mikey only tuts in disappointment. “Would you rather I chase you down and rape you instead?” The way he says it so casually, like he didn’t just threaten you sends chills down your spine. “You know fully well you can’t outrun me.”

You swallow hard, weighing your choices as you stare at him. Running away right now would give you a chance to get away from him, but he could still catch up to you if he wants to. Even if you escape him, Izana is downstairs and would willingly hunt you for sport. You thought of hiding in one of your dormmate’s room, but no girl here likes you enough to incur Toman’s wrath.

‘I’m finished.’

Your feet move on their own towards Mikey and his hands maneuver your body until you’re straddling him, your legs on either side of his waist, knees digging into the mattress, your crotch hovering over his. You wait for him to attack you with his touches or kisses, for him to take what he wants and leave you a broken woman, but he doesn’t move an inch, only opting to speak, his breath tickling your face.

“Show me how much you love me.”

“What?” You whisper, confused. What does he mean by that? “I don’t understand-”

“You said you love me, so show me.” He repeats again. “Pleasure me.”

Pleasure him? You don’t know how to do anything. Apart from kissing someone, which you only learned when you stayed with the Shiba’s, you were so sheltered that you don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Even when you asked your mother about how to please your husband, she only told you that your job is to lie down and let the man do as he pleases. Emma had made a significant effort in trying to show you a demonstration, but ultimately you chickened out because you couldn’t risk watching something as filthy as pornography.

‘He’s going to get angry at me.’ You start to panic. ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Oh God, he’ll hurt me for sure. He’ll force himself on me again-’

“I-i don’t know what to do… I’ve never done this before- I’m sorry, I’m sorry- please don’t hurt me.”

You don’t realize that you’re shaking once again, until you feel his hands slipping onto your waist, gripping it tight to steady you. “Stop shaking. This is why I don’t like virgins.” Mikey snapped. If you didn’t feel embarrassed before, you feel utterly humiliated. Not only were you forced into a situation you didn’t want to be in, you couldn’t even do anything to get yourself out of it.

You gasp quietly as he pushes your hips down to his crotch, pressing your clothed cunt against his hard cock. Your head falls onto his shoulder as his hands grab your ass from under your dress, rocking you against him, your dress lifting up higher and higher until it’s past your thighs.

His hands are hot against the fat of your ass, his warm breathy groans tickling down your neck as he pleasures himself with your body. The friction feels good, much to your horror, so good that you nearly forget what kind of predicament you found yourself in, feeling the ridge of his dick touch your clit repeatedly, jolts of pleasure running down your body, a damp patch growing on your panties. At the back of your mind, you know you don’t want this, but the way he controls your hips to his rhythm, the soft grunts he lets out of his lips and the way his breath tickles your skin, has you lowering your inhibitions bit by bit, holding onto his shoulders to attempt to anchor yourself down.

‘I-i’m not… I shouldn’t feel good doing this-’

A whine nearly escapes your lips as he abruptly stops his grinding, the small pleasure you felt suddenly ripped away from you. You quickly sit straight up, about to ask him what was going on, only for him to say. “You know what to do now, so do it.”

Oh. He was teaching you how to get him off. Of course, you must have forgotten that this was all supposed to be for his pleasure, not yours.

He lets go of your bottom, resting his elbows on the bed, dark eyes watching you, waiting for you to go ahead. You balance yourself, warping your hands around his neck and pressing your hips downwards, trying to mimic his previous movements. Your hip movements are awkward, slow, out of rhythm, and you start to panic. With his dark eyes trained on you, nervousness starts to creep in, your body trembling once again, making your movements even more unpleasant.

You peek at Mikey from your lashes, your heart dropping down to your stomach as you see the increasing frustration and annoyance written all over his face. It makes you try harder, try to arch your back, try to grind harder onto him but it doesn’t earn a sound from him.

‘I’m trying. I’m trying. God knows I’m trying but I can’t do it right I can’t-’

Mikey’s patience with your ‘incompetence’ runs thin, and before you know what was happening, your back hits the hard mattress, his body hovering above you. Panic rises in your chest when you see his darkened gaze, fury, lust and disgust all mixed into his eyes as he pinned you down with one hand. “Can’t do one thing right. You claim to love me but you can’t even make me happy. I did all that for you and yet you can’t do what I want-”

You struggle against his grasp when he grabs the front of your white dress- your favourite dress and suddenly rips it off your body and into shreds, the rope burns leaving marks on your body, your panties following suit. You let out a guttural scream, fear creeping in your veins when you realize just how far gone Mikey was.

“STOP IT! STOP IT MIKEY! MIKEY PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO ME- I’M SORRY, I’LL LOVE YOU HARDER, JUST DON’T DO THIS TO ME-”

He ignores your screams, discarding the scraps of clothes and using his free hand to undo his belt, his expression blank, uncaring. You kick against his feet, screaming at him to stop but it falls on deaf ears as he drags out his penis, lowering his hips closer to yours. You started to weep, as he gathered what’s left of your slick.

“If you do this to me, I’ll never forgive you.” You weep, tears rolling down your cheeks. He doesn’t react, gathering spit in his mouth and spitting on your uncovered woman hood, before rubbing his cock on it again. “I’ll hate you for the rest of my life, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” He doesn’t say anything, his cockhead pushing through your hole bit by bit until you hiss out.

“I’ll kill myself.”

He paused his movements, his eyes growing wide as you utter those words, but you’re too exhausted to care. “I’ll kill myself if you take the only thing I have left. I know you don’t care because you already have blood on your hands, what’s my life compared to others? but I will kill myself-”

“You can’t be serious-”

You curse him out, the all bitterness and frustration of life laced in your voice. “You made everyone hate me. I lost my job, failed my test and because I was haunted by what you did to me in that car to the point I couldn’t sleep. When you apologized, I forgave you. I forgave you because loving you was all that I had left and I hoped that you’ll change. I don’t have money, I don’t have a family, I don’t have friends, I have NOTHING else to live for. If you take the one thing I have left, I will kill myself!"

It’s as if something in Mikey’s brain clicked. He pulls out his tip from you before he could go any further, tucking his manhood back into his trousers. Through tear streaked eyes, you could see an unfamiliar look in his visage, something you thought he would never feel for anyone but himself.

Guilt.

He lets you go, climbing off your body and standing upright, his hand tousling his long blond hair, immense guilt written on his face. You turn around, away from him and curl into a ball to hide your body from him, nursing your bruised wrists while sobbing quietly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything as you cry, not even to defend himself. Eventually, you hear him shuffle around, before dropping something on your table and turning to leave.

You don’t look at him as he turns the knob, opening your room door to leave.

“I’m sorry.”

“Leave me alone, please.”

He doesn’t say anything else, closing the door behind him silently. With him gone, you peek over your shoulder to see what he put on the table.

The huge stack of cash only makes you curl into a tighter ball and weep harder.

Bonus:

  THE look on Mikey’s face was nothing short of priceless.

It’s a mixture of anger, hurt and guilt - so much guilt that could kill a normal man. Izana could only watch humorously as Mikey sat down in the passenger seat of his car, violently tossing his phone onto his lap.

“You won. Here’s your stupid pictures.”

He only smiles at his little brother’s anger, finding it hilarious that his brother would be upset at being wrong about you being in love with him. “Wow Mikey, you really work fast. How the hell did she not know the spy cameras were there huh?” Izana snickered, picking the phone up to look at the pictures taken. His grin only stretches further as he sees you in intimate positions, even one with you fully naked, your perfect tits out on display and tears running down your cheeks. “Come on, how was your first time with a virgin? You don’t look too happy. Did she cry a whole lot-”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

His smile falls lopsided. There was something strange about Mikey, like he had done something he couldn’t take back. Which was shocking, this was the same man that had paid Makoto - your PA, to put spy cameras in your room, what changed? “Why though? Don’t tell me she made you go soft or something-”

“She was going to fucking kill herself if I went through with it.”

“And you stopped?” Izana scoffed at Mikey. Really? That’s why he didn’t go ahead with taking what he wants? “She was gonna silence herself permanently, no one would have known.”

Mikey’s jaw clenched, but he only grunted, his eyes looking down at his lap. “Just drive me back to my dorm room.”

Izana rolled his eyes at Mikey. “This is the last time I help you with a girl, all that effort for nothing.” He snaps, revving up the engine to leave. “Since when did you get so soft, Mikey? Don’t tell me you fell in love with her while you were on top of her?”

Mikey stays quiet this time, his silence holding the answers.

‘Well fuck. That was unexpected.’

Special thanks to: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @theblueslytherin @rabbit @kakusimp @Rin-10 @sousydive @torasplanet @playgirlfawn @gumiegumie @kurokawaia @anastasiatheloveofyourlife @bontenxo @satorubby @black-swan-blog27 @asirensrage