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ficforthought · 3 years

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On being SO DONE with M*sha, a rant a decade in the making!

After giving this some thought I'm going to go ahead and give my opinion on Misha and yesterday’s situation in public for the first time ever. I was going to just post on Twitter but since this has been 12 years in the making I have exceeded the number of tweets I can put in one thread! There’s A LOT in here, so my summary is also long. I'm aware that I will lose followers over this, I'm not looking to offend anyone but it will inevitably happen. I wish anyone leaving all the best as fellow human beings.

TL;DR - having kept quiet for so long I’ve finally reached my limit and it’s all come bubbling out. I’ve never been a fan of Misha, I’ve been ambivalent for the most part, but have never criticised him in any hateful way, that's not who I am, but after all these years of putting up with his bullshit, attention seeking and troublemaking I am DONE. Deleting his tweet containing the word Wincest and replacing it with an APOLOGY just to pander to his Minions and save face is the straw that broke the camel's back. He has consistently pushed his ship on not only fans but on other actors (despite Jensen's discomfort, and him having repeatedly made his feelings known on it), he has stood by while his Minions/Hellers have harassed, victimised, doxxed and sent death threats to people based on their FICTIONAL ships. He has pandered to their gatekeeping, constantly demanded attention in obvious and not so obvious ways, and to the best of my knowledge never criticised their actions even though he's aware of it in a very real way. Some of his Minions have now taken their shit into The Boys fandom and created negativity for Jensen before the guy has even got a foot through the set door, and how is that supporting one half of your ship?

Misha has claimed to be a victim of targeted harassment from Wincest/brother fans (not only shippers) yet his fans have said and done the most despicable things on his watch, all in the name of what he must think is entertainment, or even his idea of a ‘joke’.

Any respect I had for the man based on his humanitarian work has gone because I can only take so much hypocrisy. He and his pandering because of a desperate attempt to be woke and wholly inclusive (which is actually impossible, no matter how good intentions are) are beyond pathetic. Whilst I have never seen why people think he’s so great I have friends IRL and online who genuinely adore the man, yet they have been shocked and upset by his contempt for half of the fandom that made him somewhat famous. It's disgusting and I'm not scrolling by any more. Misha, I hope to never see you on anything J2 related in future because none of us need that kind of negativity, *especially* not J2. Be gone, foul fiend!

OK, so to the too long part. Please be aware that these are my opinions as a fan of the show, of Sam and Dean, and J2, not only as a shipper. I can separate canon and fanon, and can view canon from a gen or shippy PoV. Whether you agree or disagree with my opinion let me be clear that I do not condone constant bashing and hate of a person or character so this isn’t the start of a regular thing for me. It's possible to have an opinion and not show the same vitriol that has been following this man around for years, and that’s what I’m doing. I've not posted this to prompt more negativity, it's simply to get it off my chest and make it clear how I feel. I stand by my philosophy of ship who you want to ship, enjoy it, but don't force it on other people and don't be a dick about it…hmm, that kinda sounds like familiar behaviour, though, does it not?!

I have ABSOLUTELY NO ISSUE with other people liking Misha, Cas or Destiel when it’s for the love of the characters and the ship. What I *do* have an issue with is people who are the true definition of a Heller. I don’t see that as a generic term, don't be ignorant and think I do because I know the difference between actual ship fans and the crazies, both ships have ‘em and I want no part of either of their venom. If you are reading this and class yourself as a Heller then you are part of the problem so run along and as you are all so fond of saying, 'get help' and take your bestie king with you.

I’m stating my opinion in what I feel is the most mature way I can, because unlike many people on SM, I am an adult and can act accordingly, with forethought and without resorting to temper tantrums and bullying of other people to get my point across. I am able to tell the difference between reality and fiction, I don't tar everyone with the same shipper brush and I don't expect everyone to agree with my opinion, but as we know opinions are like arseholes, we all have them and sometimes they stink. Unlike some, for the most part in life (online and offline) I *do* stand by what I say and don’t backtrack or delete things to appease the masses. I have spent a lot of time writing this out to be as clear as possible without being intentionally hateful. Bear with me jumping between actor and character where relevant, at this point they're conjoined. I will say this before I go any further, it doesn’t end well for Misha, I don’t mince my words and if you don’t like seeing facts and opinions laid out, this isn't the post for you.

I’ll say right off the bat what most of you have surmised - I’ve never held Misha (or Cas) in high esteem but I have never *hated* on him. I have shared mild criticism of his actions and opinions on Cas over the years but never, I feel, in any way that has made me feel I have something to apologise for. I have said several times I've been unhappy about Misha crashing con panels, taking attention away from J2 when at those cons *most* people paid their hard earned money to see the STARS of the show they love, first and foremost, and anyone else is a very nice bonus. The odd appearance here and there crashing a panel is fine (and Misha isn’t the first or last person to do it), maybe take up a few minutes then leave, but when someone commandeers an entire panel, that's just not on. It's not only selfish, rude and attention seeking but also disrespectful to other actors, fans and to the organisers who work hard to make sure everything ties in to give us the best con experience we can have. Everyone gets their turn on stage, there's no need to try and hog any more of the limelight, Veruca Salt style. Oh, and if you’re reading this and not getting that reference, (a) you shouldn’t be on my blog because you’re far too young, (b) look it up, and if you still don’t get what I’m saying… well then please refer to point (a). Thank you, kindly!

There was a time in Kripke's era where Cas was - I feel - intentionally used as a pawn by the writers to divert *canon* from the ‘questionable’ relationship between Sam and Dean, i.e. Wincest focus. Prior to that people (other fans) lightened up and just accepted the fact that Wincest had been there since day one in terms of the writing of the show and the fandom. All the cast and crew knew - J2, Kripke and JDM in particular - and made light of it, never judging, never shaming and often encouraging it because they understand it’s a fun part of fandom. Wincest was present enough to be part of the not so subtle subtext, as I said people just accepted it. Kink tomato was alive and well, so was ‘don’t like, don’t read’ and we all just scrolled over things we didn’t like without turning everything into a personal vendetta and excuse for bullying others who didn’t share our views. When the angels came into the plot I think most of us Wincest fans gave the Dean/Cas innuendos the small laugh they deserved and then turned back to the focus of the show which was the brothers, as it had always been intended. Misha, however, milked those moments as much as possible which was amusing at the start but got old *very* quickly, not just for fans (shippers and non shippers alike), but for other actors, in particular Jensen who is on record MULTIPLE times showing his dislike for Destiel. He told people outright that's not how he was playing the relationship between the two characters and CATEGORICALLY said "Destiel doesn't exist" but did it end there? No, it did not because neither fans or Misha let it go, in fact Misha only pushed more, goaded fans into flogging the same dead horse as much as possible. He’s never stopped, not even when there was so much discord in the fandom, a huge wedge was driven into it because of ships, which IMO he heavily contributed to.

Fast forward to over a decade later (a decade, seriously man, let it fucking go!) he didn’t even stop when Destiel did partially go canon. I have never doubted that Cas loved Dean (Sam, too) because in SPN lore angels are made to love, even rebellious ones. I, along with many others, liked that about Cas because who doesn't love a rebel, especially one rebelling for very good reasons, and because of those two wonderful men? Sam and Dean allowed him to see beyond what he'd been brainwashed to believe his entire existence. The fact is that although the nature of that love changed for Cas, it never did for Dean and was CANONICALLY UNREQUITED because Dean was incapable of loving anyone else as much as he loved Sam. All that mattered to Dean, even when he saw other characters as "family" was still Sam…ALWAYS Sam, every step of the way. Again for those who have too much Misha shaped wax in their ears, that’s canon. Whether people choose to see that love platonically or romantically is up to them, soulmates don't always have to be romantic, either way, brotherly love won out above all else on the show. No amount of Misha screaming ‘hey look, Destiel!’ changed that, but it sure didn’t stop him trying, did it?

So now that the obvious has been stated, here's something else we all know - never once in all of the years on the show did Misha drop rallying of the troops to his precious, ego stroking ship. Never once (that I am aware of) has he called out his Minions and Hellers on their continued harassment of everyone involved in the show and other fans despite the fact that they have bullied, victimised and wished bodily harm, rape and death on people who don't see their ship and because didn't get the ending to the story that they wanted. Not once has Misha shown any remorse for the trauma his "fans" have caused, and I’m taking REAL trauma, here, not the kind Twitter stans see as ‘triggering’ - people have been driven to close SM accounts, attempted, and in some cases succeeded in taking their own lives. These Minions have openly mocked Jared’s struggles with depression and anxiety, and Misha - who claims to be friends with J2 and be supportive of them in every way - has stood by and let it all play out, knowing full well some of the goings on, if not the full extent of how toxic these people are. We know he sees things being said online, and I have absolutely no doubt he spends time online searching his name for things that are relevant in some way to him in an effort to insert himself into a current conversation, or even start one so that attention is on him. Gotta stay relevant, somehow, right, Mish?

He has actively encouraged bullying by his actions of enabling the behaviours above, both by the flogging of the aforementioned dead horse, AND by not objecting to unacceptable behaviours. Remember when Minions and Hellers were slating J2, particularly Jared, for not posting on SM about BLM and other topics? Yeah, he didn’t ask them to stop doing that, either, even when he was tagged in things along the lines of ‘If Misha can post why can’t J2?’ etc. There have been some token protests, con vids I've seen have show his 'objections' which IMO have been done in a very tongue in cheek way, meaning that those people who needed to be pulled aside and told to change their ways just carried on, because their evil overlord didn’t explicitly explain it in terms a three year old could understand that bullying and forcing your opinion on others is WRONG. Not all of his cult are young and impressionable, not by a long shot, but many of the more vocal and vitriolic ones are.

As a father himself I wonder what Misha would do if he found out that his kids were behaving in ways his Minions are? I’m aware they’re young, but kids are cruel and bullying doesn’t just happen online. Even at whatever age they are, would he laugh it off the way he appears to have done with all of this fandom toxicity? Not bloody likely! I wonder if he’s as desperate to gain the approval of his family, friends and colleagues as he appears to be for that of his Minions/Hellers? I would certainly hope so, but that question can only be answered by Misha, himself, and I can and will not presume to speak on someone else's behalf on things in their personal life. For the record I would never presume I know what J2's answers would be on anything, however I do feel that after 15 years I have an accurate gauge on what kind of people they are so would be confident that any opinion I had on a matter aligns with their morals and ethics. As much as J2 have shared of themselves with us - willingly and under no pressure to do so, I might add - we don't *know* them, but we know enough to have an informed opinion. I can’t say the same for Misha because based on the behaviour he’s repeatedly displayed, things I've heard about from other fans as well as people I know IRL who have had direct dealings with him through cons or GISH (including some very actively in the early days when it was GISHWHES) he just hasn’t seemed like a person I wanted to follow on SM. I’ve never watched any of his solo panels, though I have watched ones with both or one of the J's, mostly being left irritated because of his behaviour. Watching the J’s put up with that shit is painful, and it’s a testament to how good they are as actors that they managed to hide at least some of their disdain for as long as they did. Microexpressions give them away, particularly Jensen, and they certainly have faces I have spent many years watching closely. Beautiful faces to go with beautiful souls, both of them! <3

I have precisely ZERO interest in Destiel as a ship, very little interest in Cas as a character anymore (though I did like him in the early days,and his relationship with Jack in late seasons) so I have absolutely no reason or desire to follow anything Misha does. That said, I've obviously been peripherally aware of some things he's been involved in because of friends, from things I’ve seen on SM and general fandom stuff. Despite the things I've already mentioned about his behaviour, up until now I have been able to maintain a level of respect for him as a person because of the humanitarian and charity work he's done. He seems like someone who really does want to change the world for the better and I am in full support of that fact, so much so that I have supported TWO campaigns relating to him. I bought one of the Super Good t-shirts for the campaign he did with Michael Sheen (a true angel!), the SPN/Good Omens x-over to help homeless charities, and I chose the design with text only and not artwork of Michael and Misha on, basically because I didn’t want to be wearing something with Misha’s face on it and I make absolutely no apology for that, whatsoever. I also bought Alex's #TheEndHasNoEnd shirt, which some of the profits went to Random Acts who do great work, so again, despite not liking Misha I still willingly contributed for a cause bigger than me, and to support Alex, who I absolutely ADORE. I'm aware that Stands aren't popular with some of the fandom, however since most of the cast of SPN are happily affiliated with them then I don't feel it's my place to either judge, or to discuss topics I know next to nothing about. But I digress, as a decent human being I have shown support tangentially to a man who I don't care for out of respect for the work he does outside the fandom. Telling you this isn’t to paint myself in a good light - I don’t need your approval, I’m a big girl, unlike some I don’t need constant validation! - only to provide background on how I’ve actively *not* hated on Misha.

Now though, any respect I had for him has come to an abrupt end, the events of the past 24 hours has seen to that. Whilst I have been annoyed at his behaviour in regards to shipping, I don't feel it's ever gone this far, or at least not that I've seen first hand. This man has, IMO, contributed to so much toxicity in the fandom by way of things I've mentioned before, he's claimed - without actually saying the words - that Wincest fans weren't interested in him as a character when he came onto the show, and hasn’t felt included because of the fans’ love of the brothers. Um, hate to break it to you, love, but when you come onto an established show that is about two people, and you’re a *guest star* you can’t expect everyone to love you. Some characters we as individuals do fall in love with straight away (Bobby, Charlie, Crowley and Rowena are good examples for me), it takes time to establish a dynamic, so if that’s how he felt then it was incredibly naive of him as an actor to expect instant acceptance from anyone. Also, why wait until after the show finished to bring it up AGAIN … oh wait, yeah, that would be to step back into the limelight in a way intended to garner sympathy from Minions and INTENTIONALLY piss off bro fans and Wincest shippers alike? How fucking self centred, desperate and disrespectful do you have to be to shit all over the finale of a show that for the most part accepted you and kept you in paid work for 12 years? Well, Misha Collins levels of all of those things, obviously.

So, on the topics of self centred, desperate to stay relevant, attention seeking and being oh so needy, the tweet yesterday from Amazon mentioned Castiel. He wasn’t tagged in it, so I refer to my earlier comment about searching online, because how else would he have possibly seen that? It’s possible someone sent it to him, I appreciate that, but if we go off past behaviour it’s not any stretch at all to believe that didn’t happen. So, once again, having seen the tweet he took it upon himself to - oh so predictably - turn it into something relating to Destiel. When I saw it I immediately rolled my eyes and thought ‘here we go again’, but then also had a little smile because I really liked the fact that he explicitly mentioned Wincest, therefore seeming to accept that his poor old dead horse wasn’t the only one in the race. I actually mentally tipped my hat to him then because it appeared that he’s matured enough to acknowledge by name the ship that predates his inclusion on the show. Great, I thought, this is a positive thing in a sea of negativity surrounding the man and his sunken ship, because what followed was Wincest trending in the US (it may also have been other countries as well but I had to sleep!) … largely due to the fact that Hellers were responding to it, calling him out on mentioning the dreaded ‘W’ word. I’ll repeat that because it’s been a rare occurrence up to that point… the Minions were actually disappointed with their overlord for mentioning another ship. We all know what they think of it and I for one, don’t give a flying fuck about their opionion. Ship and let ship, it’s all fun (or meant to be) so we have different tastes, that’s life kiddiwinks, deal with it. I mean, you really don’t have much of an example set for you when your king has proven several times over to be one of the biggest obnoxious brats out there, but just give it a try for your own sakes, yeah? Awesome, good on you, besties!

An unexpected development - to my joy and that of other Wincest shippers - them doing that got the topic trending, only *kept* trending by the fact that were all coming online asking why it was trending. Wincest shippers barely lifted a finger, we just flooded each other’s timelines with lovely content and basked in the Hellers - and Misha - shooting themselves in the foot, which was awesome. But did the vitriol stop? No. Did he get the attention he so clearly craves? Yes. Was it in the way he wanted? Fuck no, so poor, emotionally wounded baby backtracked after seeing that his name was trending alongside Wincest because that’s *so* not what someone narcissistic to do it in the first place, wanted.

Now here’s where I could easily have just moved on with an unusually fond chuckle, giving him an ironic pat on the back and a ‘thanks, Misha’ for being the one to instigate hours of fun, but once again his despicable behaviour made that impossible. It’s been more than obvious for many years that he cares more about what his fans think than anything else to do with the show and the fandom in a larger sense, but to delete the tweet and APOLOGISE for daring to be so insensitive to the snowflakes’ delicate sensibilities for mentioning Wincest in the first place was absolutely disgusting. Stating , “I used a term that I had never really given any thought to other than, "that's a thing?! Yuck." is not only complete and utter bullshit, it’s pandering of the highest order.

We all know he has referred to Wincest on multiple occasions, so to say he hadn’t thought about is a flat out lie, which IMO is an insult to everyone, not just Wincest shippers. Does the man have no self respect at all, why would you contradict yourself in the face of such overwhelming evidence? Instead of either ignoring all the people calling him out, or addressing it with another tweet saying ‘yeah, that happened’ or something similar he chose, I repeat, CHOSE the route of claiming he didn’t realise he was being offensive to people who felt ‘triggered’ by him using the word Wincest. He basically shat all over an entire ship and large sector of the fandom in an attempt to appease his own fan base which consists of a lot of children (or those that act like children) who have no idea what RL is like.

Once again, he’s reinforced the idea that if you shout loud enough at someone just because you don’t like something they said, they will back down and apologise for something even when there’s nothing to apologise for. If he wants to be such a role model then he could easily have pointed out that a fictional ship doesn’t condone RL incest, any ACTUAL trauma people have suffered because of RL situations, and made an effort to make sure people understand that. He COULD have used it as an opportunity to do some good in the fandom by encouraging people to build bridges, to accept that people are entitled to their beliefs and that sometimes we see things differently but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t treat others with BASIC HUMAN DECENCY because of it. Instead he YET AGAIN chose to show that he cares more about what Minions think of him, keeping them onside to constantly stroke his unbelievably fragile ego in everything he does.

It is my understanding that Misha is big on (or claims to be big on) putting positive energy out into the world, treating people with respect, helping others and accepting people for who they are, not who you want them to be… all this after YEARS of consistently practising what he preaches only when it suits him. He sends out a message that it’s perfectly OK to bully, to spread hate, to draw attention to yourself at the cost of others, to throw colleagues and friends under the bus and at the same time use them to further your own agenda and get hits for your YouTube channel. Is this really the legacy he wants to leave? Is this an environment he wants his own kids to grow up in as well as future generations? Is this what he thinks is a valuable contribution as a human being? JFC, the arrogance, hypocrisy and the need for constant validation this man exhibits is nothing short of cringeworthy… actually it’s beyond that. It’s deplorable behaviour, it’s not new, and he will continue to act like this for as long as he’s being enabled and this harmful cycle needs to end.

I have friends IRL and online who are (now, possibly, were) big Misha fans, who have supported him from either the beginning of his run on the show, or since they started watching, and this is how he repays this behaviour? He’s willfully alienating decent people (including multishippers) all to make himself look good by being seen to do everything he can not to offend people. Spoiler alert, you DID offend people, you continue to do so time and again and we’ve had enough. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to be such a perpetual people pleaser, but let me say it’s not doing you any favours in any way, shape or form.

Misha, you are *not* a role model, you’re *not* someone to look up to when you can't live up to the ideals you preach. You’re spitting in the face of people who have supported you even after some questionable things in the past, who gave you the benefit of the doubt because we’re all human and we all make mistakes. The key to growing as a person is not to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over, understanding *why* what you said and/or did was a mistake and making a concerted effort to make changes. I don’t ever see you doing that, you will continue down this path of only caring about Minions under the guise of caring for people in general. You are transparent, you are sad and despite the fact I’ve never particularly liked you, I didn’t speak up because I didn’t want to get involved in the drama. Well now I have spoken up and I’m saying you’re a disgrace, you have no respect for other people and nobody is fooled anymore. If it hadn’t been this tweet it would have been something else, but I for one am glad it happened so soon after the show ended so we can finally be rid of the limpet-like behaviour. It’s over, let it go for the sake of what dignity you might have left, for the sake of your family and friends and for the sake of anyone who isn’t capable of seeing through your ‘it’s a joke’ mentality.

You have been weighed, you have been measured and you have been found wanting. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Misha.

For anyone who made it to the end of my ramble, thank you. This has been a cathartic exercise and I’m drawing a line under it now, I don’t think I could possibly make my thoughts any clearer. I urge you not to get caught up in any petty squabbles with his Minions, let’s celebrate J2 and other cast and crew members who have shown us all respect and who I am proud to call part of the SPN family. There’s always one member of the family who needs to be frozen out for the good of everyone else.

#ficforthought speaks #sorry not sorry #i spent way too long on this #purging the poison

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weareallstoriesintheend · 3 years

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Freedom - (Reader x Zemo)

Zemo and a guard at The Raft have struck up an unlikely friendship

Prompts: Taken from @prompts-in-a-barrel

Word Count: 1,641

Warnings: None; takes place after The Falcon And The Winter Soldier (Season 1) so some small spoilers!

Part 1 of the Escape Series

You had arrived at work early today; an odd feeling nestled at the back of your mind was denying you sleep so you’d decided to clock in early. You were given your morning duties as you began the meticulous process of strapping yourself into the various components of your guard’s uniform; thankfully it was a slow morning– inmate checks only. Since The Raft currently only held three prisoners you presumed, with a small smile to yourself, that breakfast was on the cards nice and early today.

The Raft had several floors where prisoners could be kept and right now, for safety, each prisoner was kept in a cell on a separate floor. It was nice and quiet this early in the morning with only you and a few cleaners milling around the floors so you could take your time walking between each level.

It was early so Trish Walker and Willis Stryker were still fast asleep in their cells. Trish was curled up in her tight, protective ball as usual and Willis was sat up, head leaning against the metal wall behind him eyes tightly closed. A scan of the cell rooms, a glancing health check on each prisoner, check the locks and integrity of the cell glass and that’s another tick on the list.

You stopped, leaning against the cold metal wall of the stairwell checking your watch, an hour till breakfast. You were making your way through each prisoner reasonably leisurely for a number of reasons; one of those reasons had to do with who was housed on Level 3.

Working on an underwater containment facility didn’t really have too many perks, it often felt like you were a prisoner here yourself but it paid well so who were you to complain. Although, when you stopped to think about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen daylight. Every day was pretty much the same, which was until a new prisoner was brought to the facility by the Dora Milaje of Wakanda.

Baron Helmut Zemo had certainly livened things up around here, at least for you. He was kinder and calmer than anyone had expected him to be, given the stories that followed in his wake, and unlike the other two prisoners he held no contempt towards those in charge of his care. The guards on the other hand tended veer towards hate at his pretentious turns of phrase and his intelligence, you guessed this was because they didn’t like feeling less than someone being kept as a prisoner. But for you it provided some much needed entertainment. You would never admit it but listening to his deep gravelly tone tell you stories of Sovokia often brightened your day, sometimes you would even stay on shift well past the end of your working day to hear him speak of his family. Unable to stop him as his eyes clouded over with grief, there was so much more to this rich, cocky Baron than what met the eye. He’d often made you bets or promises of what he could provide for you if you were to help him leave this place; these offers always met with a scoff and roll of the eyes from you trying to hide how nervous it made you. He would sweeten his offers with soft nicknames and tell you how he would even marry you to give you the life, in his words, that you deserved.

You reached level 3, punching in the code to the heavy reinforced door; you walked in to see exactly what you had expected. Zemo was sitting up in bed, lights on, reading one of the few books he’d been allowed upon his arrival. The room was pretty much in darkness except for the dull lights on the ceiling and bright light of his cell illuminating him in front of you. He sat, leaning casually, in a blue inmate’s uniform. “Morning Zemo, how you are today?” you said cheerily as you approached the cell. You gave the room a quick scan and saw nothing amiss; you pulled out your report notebook from your pocket.

“What do you want?” he replied, voice so low it was almost a whisper. He seemed tired today; you guessed his mind was plagued again today so he hadn’t slept. The dark bags under his eyes gave that away.

“Just checking in. Are you okay? You haven’t tried to breach containment since last Tuesday.”

He chuckled in a low tone and carefully placed his book, open with the pages down, on the grey blanket beside him.

“Well… I have no reason to leave nor can I at present, therefore…” he shrugged to end his sentence. He curled his feet up under himself and shuffled to face you.

“You look tired milaya” he commented, studying your face with his classic tilted head. His eyes were squinted but were travelling over your face so intensely it made you squirm on your feet.

“Keep your pet names to yourself” you grumbled, writing your check-up report in your notebook.

“Ah of course, I always do forget you can speak Russian” he smiles as you roll your eyes. “So many skills you have Krasotka, wasted here I should think” You roll your eyes again, raising them from the page of your notebook to look at him, but you can’t help the small laugh you let out at the satisfied smirk on his face. Unfortunately it was at that moment your superior officer decided to arrive on the floor, catching you in the act of being just a little too friendly with a prisoner… again. He pulled you aside with a gesture of his head, you trundled after him knowing exactly what was coming.

For the next few minutes he gave you another lecture on proper protocol when talking to inmates. During his rant, with his back turned to Zemo, he couldn’t see the mocking faces being pulled at his words. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. The officer took your three inmate reports from you and sulked back off into the stairwell.

“Well he is pleasant as ever this morning” Zemo quipped as the door to the stairwell closed loudly. “You are going to get me in serious trouble one day Zemo” you tsk’d, tucking your notebook back into the pocket on your uniform.

“They don’t appreciate you. Not a single one of them.”

“You talk big for someone stuck in cell you know that right?”

“I’m just saying it as I see it. But you already know that, don’t you? That they’re only using you. That they’ll never accept you or your talents.”

“Me and my talents are leaving now.” You turned on your heel, making for the door.

“I see you. I accept you. I’ve offered you a place beside me before. The offer still stands. You would be valued. Cherished.”

You turned back around abruptly, unable to listen to him talk anymore “Don’t bullshit me. I’m not some fragile idiot you can manipulate to your side. You want to use me just the same as they do.”

“You’re wrong.” He said simply.

You eyed him cautiously “I know how this goes Zemo. I break you out of here and you run off leaving me to end up in my own cell. No thank you”

He smiled, chuckling quietly to himself as he rose off the bed and onto his feet; placing one hand on the glass he beckoned you over. You shook your head and didn’t move, but something in the way he was with you made you…intrigued. You didn’t want to play into his game but you’d seen him with other guards and, mostly, his words for you seemed sincere. He beckoned again and you stepped a little closer, still maintaining a distance despite him having no way of getting to you through the thick glass and bars on his cell.

“This is not what you think. You know what I can give you and you know I am right” he whispered, running his eyes over your body. You squirmed again, his gaze igniting something within you that was more confusing that uncomfortable.

“Oh really? Because I think I’m right, I’m not getting champagne on a private jet out of this. I’m getting a nice cushy cell, much like this one, for the rest of my life for breaking a terrorist out of prison!”

Zemo smiled and shook his head “Is that all you want? Champagne and a private jet? I can give you that and more, you know this. Have you ever joined the… what is you Americans call it? The mile high club” he laughed darkly at the swift, nervous shift of your expression.

“We’re done here” you retorted matter of factly, trying to ignore the heat creeping up the back of your neck. You spun on your heel once more, your quiet steps the only thing filling the void within the room.

As you reached out for the handle of the door his voice made you flinch, so loud in the potent silence, “Just think it over Krasivaya. The life I can give you would be so much more than what you give yourself day to day within the walls of this prison. I would say we both yearn for a little… freedom”

“Enough!” you shouted, voice echoing around the room.

He raised his hands in defeat and you watched as he flicked the radio on, a quiet crackle before a news channel began playing filling the painful stillness that had come over the room once more. He sat back down on the low bed and picked up his book, gently licked the top of his middle finger and used it to turn the page; he didn’t look up as he spoke “Just some food for thought”

#mcu #marvel #marvel fic #mcu fic #falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #baron zemo #zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #falcon and the winter solider spoilers #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x you #baron zemo x you

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celestial-fucking-weeb · 4 years

Text

Anonymity be Damned

Hi, everyone! This is my first ever fic, and it’s a part of the Citrus Server collab! I’m so excited about it, and I know it’s super self indulgent, but I worked really hard on it and I hope you like it. Please give me feedback and tell me what you like and what I can improve on; also, please be nice to me, I’m a baby.

MASTER LIST IS HERE Go check out everyone’s hard work!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, brief angst, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x chubby!female reader

Taglist: @reinawritesbnha

Prompt: "Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits started to flow.

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist.

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…"

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Of course, not thinking twice about accepting came back to bite you as soon as the realization set in that you would, in fact, have to go. Suddenly hyper-aware of your need to buy a dress, and knowing how little you enjoy shopping, you call your best girls for the job. A quick text to the groupchat had Mina and Yaomomo screaming with excitement that you were actually asking to go shopping. Jirou and Ochako sharing your apprehension, and Hagakure and Froppy bowing out due to their schedules, but wishing you luck with sweet emojis.

Yaomomo chose the dress shop, under the enthusiastic offer that she’d pay to ensure everyone would receive something from her favorite designers. You knew this was a place only Yaomomo could frequent- beautiful gowns lined every wall, display mannequins donning the most gorgeous dresses, made of the best fabrics with jewels perfectly beaded in, none of which had price tags so as to not “ruin the material” as she had told all of you. Whisking you all into dressing rooms bigger than your entire apartment, the staff practically fawned over each of you, offering assistance, refreshments, recommendations, and- oh fuck- measurements. Nerves shot through your entire body and made you nauseous, ready to make a stupid excuse to leave before your insecurities were announced to your girlfriends. You’ve always been...bigger.

The word tasted bitter on your tongue. The consultant made barely a sound as she pulled out her tape, but you heard it. That little “hm” noise, indicating judgement, knowing that most of their stock isn’t going to fit you properly, what with your plump thighs, soft tummy, squishy arms, the rolls that seemed to stay no matter how many workouts you do..

“We don’t carry plus size gowns, but I’m sure I can find something for you.”

All is confirmed when she says those stupid fucking words with that Joker-esqe smile and that hint of disgust in her tone. ‘I shouldn’t be here, I never should’ve accepted that invitation, why did I even think this was a good idea, the whole thing is for beautiful skinny girls like your friends, this is all a mistake,’ you think to yourself, insecurities and anxiety flooding your brain. Mina’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Excuse me, I don’t believe we asked for your personal opinion on her body. In fact, I believe we only asked for you to do your job, but if you can’t complete such a daunting task, I’m sure there are 20 other people who’d love to take your place.” she grinned, in a tone too perky for her threatening choice of words.

“Also, as I happen to frequent this shop, I know your entire inventory. As such, I know that you do, in fact, carry gowns for each of our sizes. If you can find one to fit my chest, I know you have a variety of gowns to fit my beautiful friend, y/n. I suggest you begin pulling them, as I’m sure you’ve gotten the measurements you need. Now.” This time it’s Yaomomo, handling the situation with dignitary-level finality, before gracefully walking to you with a comforting smile. Ochako wipes a tear you weren’t aware had fallen, attempting to comfort you with false empathy, saying how you two are “practically the same size”, but you know you’re not. It’s comforting nonetheless, having the support of your friend group. Jirou cracks self deprecating jokes to lighten the mood, complaining, “If I have to wear a frilly gown to this bullshit, so do you, y/n. You’re not getting out of this that easy,” and you absolutely know she means it.

With your spirit slightly renewed and the consultants carrying in a multitude of dresses, you all end up having a blast laughing about how the pink ballgown does not fit Jirou’s aesthetic and the skintight green satin number Ochako tried on would quite literally have Deku passed out on the floor. You giggled with Yaomomo about how certain dresses looked risqué and nearly pornographic on your respective figures. Mina whined about how each dress didn’t have enough glitter, her complaints falling on deaf ears. Over the course of two and a half hours, each of the girls had secured a dress. Mina, in a teal mermaid-style dress with enough sparkle woven into the tulle to blind. Jirou, in a simple deep purple velvet gown that gracefully fell off her shoulders. Ochako, deciding, after much peer pressure, to opt for the green satin to make Deku drool. Yaomomo, in a red gown with beautiful beading, and a deep V neckline. You, on the other hand, were struggling to find something that doesn’t have you hyperfixating on one aspect of your body or another, limiting your breathing and movement so as to not further sink into the mean thoughts swirling around inside your head. The girls have gone into full support staff-mode, bringing you dresses of every cut known to man, offering more champagne to dull the anxieties, Yaomomo even offering to make you a custom dress with her quirk. Jirou sheepishly comes into the room, head down, hoping no one brings attention to the fact that she just sifted through dresses for a good 15 minutes and didn’t hate it, before nudging your soft side. You turn to her, defeated, and ready to give up, when you realize what she’s holding. She’s picked a dress for you, even though she hates shopping anywhere that isn’t blaring music through the speakers and dimly lit. You smile sweetly at her shy offering, reaching out to take it before she pulls back.

“No, I have an idea… I know it’s easy to look at your insecurities before the dress is all the way on, and I think you should let us help you into it with your eyes closed… Then, when you turn around to the mirror, you can see all the beautiful parts, like we do!” She looks down at the floor as she mutters the words, as though she’s embarrassed to be so soft and sweet.

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, JIROU! OH MY GOD, Y/N, YOU HAVE TO LET US DRESS YOU, IT’LL BE JUST LIKE CINDERELLA WITH THE BIRDS AND THE MICE, COME ONNN…” Mina bounces up and down, grabbing your hands and pleading, knowing you never say no when she gives you such excited eyes.

“Uh… fine… Yeah, I guess it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like I have anything to lose.” You shyly whisper, looking away.

If it were anyone else, you’d never want them to see you getting dressed, soft tummy and extra squish uncovered, leaving you vulnerable to their judgement. But these are your best friends, you’d known them for years. They’d held your hair on your 21st birthday, and cuddled into bed with you when you were crying over unrequited love. They’ve had your back, they’d never make fun of you, and Jirou chose this dress all special for you, you couldn’t say no. With that, you turned around and closed your eyes, arms out and waiting for them to help you into whatever Jirou had deemed right for you.

“Okay, y/n, almost done, just have to zip this last part up and… DONE!” Mina and Yaomomo stepped back from their positions holding the sides and pulling the zipper, respectively. Finally admiring the you in the dress, there was a moment of absolute silence. You started shifting uncomfortably, wondering just how horrible you looked if they didn’t even have words to describe it. Ochako was the first to break the quiet and a teary-sounding “You’re so beautiful, y/n.”, followed by Mina’s signature squeals of excitement. Yaomomo clasped her hands together and began ranting about “how gorgeous you looked” and “how perfect the dress was” and “how she didn’t even know they had this one yet”. Jirou, sensing your anxious shifting, finally told you to open your eyes and turn around with a hand on your shoulder, the satisfied smirk on her face audible in her now assured voice.

“Oh… wow…” was all you could manage to say, eyes wide as you saw yourself in the full length mirror. This was, in all honesty, the first time you felt beautiful in years. The dress did nothing to hide your body- no- it somehow managed to accentuate every single curve in the most beautiful way possible. The gown was black, made from silk and taffeta, with some built in structure, and oh so soft. Simultaneously comfortable, secure, and elegant, the strapless gown mimicked a one shoulder, right side jutting up in an asymmetrical style and the left dipping just low enough to show your cleavage before cascading down your curves, hugging each roll of your body gently, showing off your figure and flowing down to the floor with a slit up your thigh, only visible when you walked and showing the ample flesh of your hip and thigh. God, it was perfect. You felt strong and classy and sexy and beautiful. Turning to Jirou, you pull her into your chest and hug her, thanking her a thousand times for finding it.

“Whoa, hey, okay… I’m glad you like it, you look absolutely beautiful. But- um- hey, can you let go? I’m suffocating in titties here.” Jirou laughed, genuinely struggling to breathe in your embrace.

“Oh shit, sorry, Jirou! I’m just so happy, I love it so much! I kinda forgot you can’t breathe when I do that…” You chuckle nervously, releasing her from your embrace.

“Yay! Okay, now that everyone has a dress, let’s go purchase them and get some food. I’m starving!” Yaomomo pitches the idea, and everyone agrees, excited to hurry out of the shop for a meal.

_____________________________________________________________

The day had finally come, and your nerves felt fried. The other girls all had dates; Momo and Jirou deciding to go together, Ochako with Deku, even Mina was going with Kaminari. But here you were, riding in the car service alone, makeup absolutely flawless, complete with falsies and red lipstick that was the perfect shade to stand out against your skin. Such a shame no one was going to be benefiting from your efforts tonight, although the thought that your longtime crush, Sero Hanta, would be in attendance was enough to urge you to adjust your carefully placed mask, ensuring your anonymity and polishing your confidence. Sero had been in your friend group since high school, and was the first person you truly warmed up to upon your acceptance into the group. You quickly became the “shy little sister” to the loud ones in the group: Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina. Jirou and Sero were more your speed; quieter, more laid back and chill, with great senses of humor that not everyone was privy to. With Jirou as your designated best friend, Sero was proclaimed the unrequited love interest. You friendzoned yourself almost immediately, assuming Sero wouldn’t go for a girl like you, not when he was tall, dark, handsome, and muscular. A budding pro hero wouldn’t want you, not with your shy insecurities and soft body…

Little did you know, Sero had been pining after you since the beginning, flirting with you subtly in hopes that you’d express your interest. Eyes wandering down your curves during movie nights, taking in your too-small shorts and how your oversized shirt would raise just enough to see your little tummy pouch, wishing his face was buried between your plump thighs, praying he would be able to leave hickeys on every delicious roll, pleading he could see those cute chubby cheeks covered with tears while your plush lips wrapped around his cock… No- he couldn’t think of you like that. After all, you never returned his flirting, and there’s no way you’d like him when you could crush on manlier guys like Kirishima and Bakugou. ‘He was just a “dollar store Spiderman”, as Bakugou liked to call him, just a guy… Nothing special…’ he thought to himself as he adjusted his own mask in the bathroom mirror at the gala. His friends had all confirmed that you were coming, and that you were coming alone (said by Kaminari while wiggling his eyebrows). Every other person in the group had a date, including Bakugou and Kirishima, who had to practically drag the former to the event in the first place. He was the only one “stagging it”, aside from you, who would no doubt attract attention and end up going home with some flashy hero higher ranked than he was. He sighed, adjusting his tux jacket and cufflinks, and exited into the main ballroom to get a drink.

You walked into the venue, checked in, and stood frozen outside the ballroom entrance. You adjusted your mask, steeled your nerves, and squared your shoulders, reminding yourself how absolutely gorgeous you looked and donning your best “bad bitch” aura. You strut into the place like you own it, suddenly very aware of how many people there are, scanning for familiar faces as you sway your luscious hips to maintain your balance in your heels.

“Holy fuck... “ Sero utters, jaw slack and eyes locked on you. You’re so perfect, breasts bouncing with every step, thighs and tummy jiggling, soft smile gracing your face. He’s staring, and Kaminari has to elbow him to wipe the drool from the side of his mouth before you get there. You’re equally as enchanted, seeing Sero in his black fitted tuxedo, crushed velvet lapels, tapered pants making his quads look positively biteable, crisp white shirt tailored over his pecs, black bowtie (slightly crooked, very fitting of his personality) and mask obscuring his face, leaving him as nothing more than a handsome stranger. A yellow pocket square catches your attention, reminding you of your favorite hero in his costume. You smirk to yourself, knowing you chose yellow gold heels specifically because they reminded you of him.

“See something you like, Sero-buddy? You’re staring so hard, you’d think she was God.” Kaminari punches Sero in the ribs, trying to break the spell. “Maybe you should talk to her, finally get over your crush on y/n by getting under someone else.” he winks, completely unaware that he’s talking about you in both respects.

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I think I’ll give it a minute, maybe grab another drink and enjoy the party for a while. I’m not trying to start hitting on some random chick just yet, though hot she may be.” Sero laughs, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s nervous. He diverts his eyes down to his drink, downs the rest of the liquid, then focuses back on you. You wait at the bar for your drink of choice, aware of that beautiful stranger still staring and leaning against the counter just enough to push your ass out. You hear him nearly choke on his drink, and move around the party satisfied with yourself.

A few drinks later, you find yourself on the dance floor, watching from the edge and lightly swaying to the music. A masked man with shaggy black hair, who you can only assume to be pro hero Grand, given his mask barely covered a fourth of his face probably only worn to fit the theme, approached you for a dance, hand extended and bowing at the waist.

“A lady as beautiful as yourself shouldn’t be a wallflower. Care to dance?” he asks, voice low and alluring, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes.

“I might…” you smile shyly, taking his hand and letting him lead you.

Once out on the dance floor, he pulls you into his chest with a hand on your lower back. It’s nice to be wanted, to dance so close to a man who finds you beautiful, especially one as chiseled as Grand. ‘Wait- is he…? Are you fucking kidding?’ Your fight or flight response kicks in as soon as you feel his hand drift lower and lower onto your ass. You pull away, ready to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but before you can get a word out, he puts a hand over your jaw, fingers tightly snapping your mouth closed. Unable to speak and too shocked to move, you feel helpless as he whispers in your ear.

“God, I love fat girls. Your self esteem is so low, I can do whatever I want and you’ll fall for it. So stupid, so fun.” His laugh is so dark, and you start to panic before a large, strong hand reaches between the two of you and wraps around Grand’s throat, yanking him back and off of you.

“Listen, this is a classy place, so I’ll give you a choice. Either you apologize to this absolutely gorgeous woman and get the fuck out of here, or I beat you to a bloody pulp right here and ruin both your suit and your face.” The handsome stranger who had originally caught your eye growls, voice so low and intimidating you didn’t doubt for a second he meant every word. ‘His voice sounds so familiar, but I can’t quite place it. He’s so angry, and he’s speaking so low, I can’t figure out where I’ve heard that before.’ Thankful for his saving assistance, and trying to calm yourself from hyperventilating, you watch Grand’s retreating form before turning to the man who is quite literally your Prince Charming of the evening.

Voice still low and angry, “Listen, I need you to distract me. Calm me down so I don’t turn around and kill that guy.” he seethes. “You are stunning, absolutely gorgeous. He was so wrong. He’s an asshole, absolutely vile, and he never should’ve even had the nerve to approach you, much less touch you. God fucking damn it, I should-”

You cut him off by pulling him close, placing your hands on his chest and letting them roam up to fix his still crooked bowtie.

“Thank you…” you whisper, tearing up as you put your head on his chest. His cologne is so calming, his scent enveloping you as his arms instinctively wrap around you and his hand finds the back of your head, holding you to his chest.

The two of you slow dance in silence, his head resting on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo and hairspray comforting him and taking him to a dream where he was dancing with the y/n he knew, feeling your soft body pressed against him, imagining how you’d look in the dress on the girl he was actually dancing with. ‘Oh fuck, y/n would look so fucking perfect in this. Her curves- fuck, this dress is soft- I would absolutely love to run my hands along her body in this dress, press her up against me like this, fuck her thighs- wait… SHIT-FUCK-NO’ Snapped out of his thoughts by the increasing tightness of his tux pants, he prays to god the sexy girl pressed against him doesn’t notice.

You notice something nudging against your thigh, breaking you out of your daydreams about the mystery man being Sero Hanta, opening your eyes before you realize exactly what you’re feeling. ‘Oh… OH. Holy fuck, did I make him hard just dancing? He- uh- feels… big… Maybe if I just-’ you subtly shift your hips, thigh brushing up against him and slotting between his legs just enough. A deep groan rises from his chest, and he leans down to your ear.

“Babygirl, if you keep doing what I think you’re doing, I’m going to have to return the favor~” His voice sounds so familiar, but the lust clouding the low rumble has it taking on an entirely new timbre. You lean in, feeling emboldened by his words, swiping your tongue along the shell of his ear with a simple “Oh really?~ And what if that’s the goal?”

With that, he crooks his finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. What starts as a sweet and simple kiss quickly evolves into a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. His fingers gently resting on your neck, just above your collarbone, and tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You sigh into him, granting him access and letting his tongue explore your mouth, relishing in his deep rumbles and pressing impossibly closer, hoping he’d get the message and take you somewhere more private. Luckily, it seems he seems to read your body language and leads you to a side hallway by pressing his hand on the small of your back, possessively guiding you. Pushing you up against the wall, he leans back in to resume kissing you, with an arm steadying himself above your head. In a simply embarrassing display of clumsiness, your hand reaching for his cheek goes slightly off course, accidentally knocking off his mask and causing you to fumble to the floor to retrieve it. Upon looking up, you see Sero standing with a flushed face and his hand reaching up to the back of his neck, the endearing nervous tic you’d learned from him over the years. Oh God, if your heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it sure as fuck was now… The man you had yearned after for years not only swooping in to save you from some low-life creep, but also having you in a kabedon against the wall of the fanciest place you’ve ever been in. He laughs, nervous now without his anonymity, and reaches down to help you up.

“I- uh- sorry, I might’ve gotten carried away. I hope you’re okay, I know I’m probably not the hero you wanted. I really do think you’re beautiful, you actually remind me of someone I know and- wow- I’m rambling…” He goes on like this, panicking that he’s somehow ruined your fantasy and disappointed you by existing. He only shuts up when you stand back upright and kiss him softly.

“You’re exactly the hero I want… The hero I’ve always wanted.” You blush, staring up at him with the most loving doe eyes you can manage.

‘Wait… Her voice… Is that- ?’ Sero came to quite possibly the best and utterly terrifying realization; that the girl he’d been lusting after all night and the girl he’d been wanting for years could be the same girl. He hesitantly brought a hand to your face, lightly grazing your mask as though asking for permission. You nod, never breaking your gaze on his concentrated expression, and parted your lips. He gingerly lifts the mask from your features, damning your anonymity, and each of you hold your breath in anticipation. The way he looks at you is like something out of a movie, or one of those shōjo manga you love to obsess over: pure relief, adoration, lust, love. Oh, you want him to look at you like that forever.

“Y/n, I-... You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you. I have been wanting to kiss you for years, and to finally do it, and with you looking… Wow- you are so fucking stunning, I have never seen anything as beautiful in my life. Fuck, I just- I wish I could tell you how perfect you are, express in words how flawless I’ve always thought you were- still do… “ Sero breathed all of this as though he had to get every word out before you disappeared. He held your face in both hands, lightly squishing your cheeks and stroking his thumb over your lips, taking in your hopelessly enthralled expression. “You know what? Fuck this. No- I mean- not ‘fuck this’, I just… I want to do this right. I want you, I need you. I want to express how important you are, I need to show you that you’re everything to me. I want to worship you, kiss every inch of your body and make you feel so incredibly complete and full and whole and appreciated. Do you understand?”

“Hanta… I- Yes. Yes. Please take me home, I need you. I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You lean into his touch, wanting to be ever closer to his warmth.

You yelp as he suddenly picks you up, bridal style, as though you don’t even provide a struggle.

“HANTA, you can’t be carrying me, I weigh more than you, no no no, I’m too heavy, you can’t-”

“Y/n. I’m a pro hero, are you seriously telling me I can’t carry you? I can carry 3 people at once while hanging from a strip of tape in midair. I’ll hold you up forever if you’d let me.” He squeezes you in his hold, emphasizing his point.

His cocky attitude was majorly driven by how good you felt, soft tummy and jiggling tits against his torso, the perfect squish of your thighs in his powerful arms, chubby hands and cheeks tucked into his chest and the crook of his neck. He swore he could die happy right there. In the elevator, he took a moment to take in your entire figure, but upon reaching your feet, something turned him absolutely feral. Your shoes. You were wearing his colors. Every single piece of clothing matched his hero costume. ‘Holy shit… You knew. You wanted him before this even happened. You were his.’ The possessive growl that tore from his chest startled you as he adjusted you in his hold. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, hands unapologetically on the ample crux of your thighs and ass, lips on yours in a desperate kiss that was all tongue and teeth, grinding his hard cock against you. You whimpered against his lips, shocked by his sudden change of demeanor.

“Fuck, you’re wearing my colors, aren’t you? You want me to claim you? You want to be mine? I’ll give you anything you want, babygirl. I just need you to ask for it.~” He growled against your neck, nose tracing the column of your throat.

“Hanta, please, yes- ah~. I want to be yours. I only want to be yours. I need you. Please, please, please.” Normally, you’d be way too shy to beg this much, embarrassed about how desperate you sound, but fuck he’s making you so needy. The gasp that escapes you when Sero licks a stripe up your neck turns into a moan when he starts sucking a hickey over your pulsepoint. He feels so good, the heat between your thighs steadily building with every nip of his teeth and roll of his hips. You thread your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and pull gently, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. He works his way up to your jaw, leaving pretty little marks in his wake, and returns to your lips like a safe haven. He strokes your tongue with his own, committing your taste to memory. He never wants to forget this moment, especially not when you lightly suck his tongue and pull him in further with those perfect fucking thighs. You’re so soft, being wrapped in your plushness with his fingers digging into the pliable flesh of your ass is too much. Sero’s sinful thoughts are interrupted by your fucked-out voice, so small and innocent, as though you’re afraid of his answer.

“Um… Can I- can I touch you? I mean- I- can I mark you, too?” You sound so unsure, not used to someone wanting to show you off. You’re so breathless, and he’d be lying if the pleading in your voice didn’t make his dick twitch in his pants.

“Awwww~ is my babygirl shy now? You want to mark me, too? Go ahead, mi amor, sí se puede. I’m all yours, just like you’re mine.” Sero cranes his head to the side, baring his neck to you, waiting for you to bless him with those full lips, waiting for you to make a show of him finally having the most perfect girl he’s ever known.

If he could’ve taken a picture of your face in that moment, he’d look at it every day. Squishy cheeks blushing, eyes wide with surprise and excitement, gaze clouded with lust. You were so pretty, he couldn’t wait to ruin you. Sero moaned as you sucked a small dark mark onto his skin and happily carried you from the elevator to his room. You tighten your arms around him when he reaches for his key card, involuntarily pushing your chest together and pressing up into him.

“Oh, mi corazón, if you keep pressing into me like that, voy a tener que lamer cada parte de ti y puede que no te deje ir…” His threats sound more like promises when he’s carrying you through the threshold and placing you down gently, though his hands never leave your body. Tracing your sides, memorizing your curves, squeezing any part he can get his hands on. His right hand inches down your torso, resting on the pouch of your tummy and making you flinch. Sero notices and worries he’s hurt you, or that you don’t want him to touch you. The hurt in his eyes is obvious when he takes in your tense muscles and eyes squeezed shut, realizing it’s your own insecurities holding you back. He wishes you could see how beautiful you are, see yourself through his eyes. He was going to make you feel so fucking loved, he just had to show you what he couldn’t express in words. You stripped him of his jacket as he unknotted his tie. With nervous hands, you unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it past his broad shoulders, fingers trailing down his sculpted chest and lean abs, admiring the enticing adonis belt and pretty trail of coarse black hair disappearing into his pants. Sero, with his ego now boosted by the lustful look in your eyes as you took him in, returned your gaze to his face with an intensity that made you shiver. He kept eye contact while sweeping your hair to one side, and slowly unzipping your gown. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans down to place open mouthed kisses along your shoulders as he pushes your dress down your body, kissing down your arms as it falls, and places a sweet kiss to your hands. Pushing you onto the bed with a soft thud and climbing over top of you, he moves the hands that raise to cover yourself , grasping your wrists in one hand and cupping your cheek with the other, as he softly reassures you.

“Princesa, please don’t hide from me. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I want to worship every inch of you. I’m going to make you cry out my name, and show you just how perfect you are while you cum on my tongue. You will not say a single bad thing about mi amor, you understand?” he says lowly, so loving yet commanding.

“Yes, Hanta… I- I’ll be good for you, I promise.” you whine, praying your submission would please him.

The sound of his given name in that pleading tone has him painfully hard, but he’s too focused on hearing his name from your sweet lips again to care. You pull him down into a passionate kiss and roll your hips against his clothed cock when he laves down your neck and leaves love bites across your chest. He sucks your nipple into his warm mouth and rolls the other between his forefinger and thumb, earning a high pitched keen from you. He switches to give the same attention to the other side, tongue swirling around the peaked bud and relishing the way your chest heaves just from his mouth on your tits. ‘So needy… Fuck, how did I ever wait this long to see y/n like this and hear her sounds?’ Sero thinks to himself, so ready to watch your eyes roll back in your skull the minute you feel his cock fill you. The thought of you bouncing on his dick, watching you jiggle with his thrusts, letting him grip the fat on your hips and help you fuck yourself on him, feeling your lovely thighs straddle him, has him impatiently rutting into the mattress. He needs to taste you, leave marks all over your delicious tummy and thighs, and feel you coming undone beneath him. His large hands slide down your sides, rubbing back up under your breasts, gripping the extra flesh over your ribcage, the soft love handles on your sides, caressing the perfect pouch of your belly and settling on your hips. His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing and licking every place you had deemed undesirable like they were the sexiest pieces of you, leaving dark hickeys on the front of your hips to remind you that all of these parts were now his to love.

“Lo siento, babygirl, pero no puedo esperar más, necesito mi lengua en ese bonita coño jodidamente ahora. Estas necesitan estar en el suelo ahora.” If his panting growl of Spanish didn’t already have your pussy gushing, his strong fingers ripping your panties and hoes off your body had you dripping onto the bed. Your shocked squeak turning into a moan when he parted your legs and nipped at the soft skin of your inner thigh, Sero is beyond delighted by feeling your beautiful thighs squishing against his face. If he could choose his end, it would undoubtedly be suffocating between this plush heaven. He snaked his arms under your parted thighs to hold your hips, squeezing and marveling at the feeling of your warm body protruding between his spread fingers, trying to fit as much of you in his grasp as he could and never getting enough. You’re just about to plead for him to touch you where you need him most when you lock eyes and hear the teasing lilt in his voice when he groans “Itadakimasu~” and flattens his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your slit.

“So wet for me, princesa, is this all for me? You’re so thoughtful to give me a meal so sweet.”

“Hantaaa, please. I want you, please don’t tease me, please touch me. I need- ah~”

Your begging is interrupted by his tongue diving into your sex, lapping at your slick like a man starved. The moans coming from the man between your thighs were sinful; in this moment, Sero Hanta was no longer the friend you’d watched superhero movies with and silently crushed on for years- he was a man, a lover, all you’d ever wanted. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking the sensitive pearl into his mouth, he pulled one hand from your hip and slowly slipped two long fingers into your sopping heat. The callused pads from years of hero training now rubbing perfectly against your walls have you crying out for him and grasping his hair, begging him to go faster. He suddenly props himself up, bringing his palm up to grind against your clit and slowing his thrusts, wanting to hear you beg for him and watch your desperate facial expression.

“What is it you want, babygirl? C’mon, you’re going to have to use that pretty little mouth of yours. Tell me what you want, baby, use your words. I wanna hear you beg for me.” That normally dopey smile was replaced with a lewd smirk, hungry and covered in your juices.

“H-Hanta, please please please. I need you, need your mouth. Please I wanna cum, please let me cum, I want you to fuck me! Please please pleaseeeee~” Hips bucking forward, sweat lightly covering your skin, hair splayed out, body covered in his marks, begging for him… Shit, he’d give you anything you asked for. Oh, he’ll give you what you need- don’t you worry.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. I’ll make this pretty pussy cum. Hold onto me and just relax, princess.”

His lips returned to your clit, flicking his tongue and sucking lightly, and increased his pace. He curled his fingers just right, finding the spongy underside of your clit and he chuckles darkly to himself when your back arches, head falling back onto the pillows.

“There it is~, there we go, babygirl. Cum for me, just like this. I’ve got you, let go, cum on my fingers.”

It doesn’t take long after his mouth goes back to nursing on your clit and his fingers continuously hitting your g-spot for the coil in your belly to finally snap. You climax hard, eyes screwed shut and screaming out his name as his tongue works you through your high. Once you’ve come down, you open your eyes and see Sero sucking his fingers clean of your release and unbuckling his belt with the other hand. You sit up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and unbuttoning his pants. He grows impatient with your pace, shoving his pants and tight boxers down at once. ‘Fuck, his dick is pretty’ you think to yourself, marveling at the masterpiece before you. He’s long, maybe 8.5-9 inches, thick enough to stretch your walls so deliciously but not too thick to fit in your mouth, prominent vein running along the underside and leading from the neat crop of black hair to the leaking tip, begging for your tongue. You start to rise to your knees before being pushed back into the duvet, looking up at him in confusion.

“No, no, mi amor. As much as I want to see your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock, that’s gonna have to wait. I want to be inside you, I need to fuck you until all you can think about is me and how fucking beautiful I think you are.” His eyes are so sincere. He looks down at you with the most loving stare you’ve ever felt, so calm and safe in his presence. You’re lulled into submission, every doubtful argument you had died on your tongue, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He leans over you, bracing himself on an elbow with his hand on your jaw to keep your eyes fixated on him. The other hand wraps around the base of his cock and teases the head along your slit, pressing on your clit just enough to have you squirming, trying to impale yourself.

“So needy for me, so wet. You’re so perfect, babygirl, I wouldn’t want to go too fast now. I want to savor every inch, feel you stretch around me while I watch those e/c eyes roll back in pleasure.” He holds back from thrusting into you when you whine in response, breathing heavy and struggling to get him inside. “Damn, baby, if you’re that desperate, why don’t you tell me exactly what you want? Beg for my cock, mi amor.”

“PLEASE, I need you inside me, please! I need your cock. Please fuck me, Papi~” You gasp out in succession, trying out the name you had once heard Kaminari teasing him about. It was a desperate attempt to get him to move, one your fucked-out brain decided was your best shot at getting him feral. And holy shit were you right. Sero fills you in an instant, hard length thrust to the hilt in your tight hole, causing you to cry out, eyes rolling back just as he promised.

“FUCK!” He’s losing restraint, driven mad by the filthy name coming from your angelic lips. The squeezing and fluttering of your walls is the only thing grounding him to Earth as he smirks down at you, baring his teeth while his other hand comes to wrap around your throat and apply light pressure to the sides. “Oh you know what you’re doing, don’t you? You have no idea how many times I imagined you calling me like that with these soft thighs wrapped around me; trust me, it’s nothing close to how sexy the real thing is. If you want to play dirty, princesa, don’t blame me when you can’t walk tomorrow.”

He backed up his statement with a few deep strokes that had your mouth falling open and eyes unfocusing, still unable to look away from the man about to wreck you. In a weak attempt to ground yourself, you reach up and place your hands on his back to feel the flexing of his muscles as he gave you slow, deep thrusts. Running your hands along his shoulders had your pussy clenching, and the groan pulled from his chest accompanying a harsh increase in his pace had your nails clawing at the corded muscles, causing him to put more force into fucking you into the mattress. A cycle of reactions, spurring the other on to continue and escalate.

“You feel so good, babygirl. S-So tight, you feel like you’re fucking made for me. I love you so much. I love everything about you. God, I fucking love your body- I love your curves, I love your legs wrapped around me, I love your sexy fucking thighs, I love your cute tummy- love how you feel pressed against me, I love running my fingers up your arms and kissing back down, I love gripping your hips when I hold you, I love watching you jiggle when you walk and bounce when I fuck you like this. You’re so fucking beautiful, so perfect for me.” Sero babbles out praises like he’ll die if he doesn’t get them out. You’re a blushing mess, knowing these words are completely true, tumbling out of his mouth unconsciously as he thinks them. “I love that expression, angel. Still so shy at my praises, even though I can feel you trying to milk my cock at every word. Such a good girl for me. Why don’t you tell me who makes this pretty pussy feel so good, huh? Say it, angel.”

“Hantaaa~ you feel so good. Please don’t stop!! I’m so close, please. I wanna cum, I wanna cum on your cock, please Papiiii~. You make me feel so good. I love you, I love you, I’m all yours. Please, I’m yours-ah~, I wanna be yours. I need you, I love you so much. Only you could make me feel like this-fuck- it’s only you. Please make me cum, Papi~” Your moans and pleas are getting louder and louder, chasing your impending climax. Every emotion flowing out of you, combined with the wonderful overstimulation, had tears rolling down your pudgy cheeks. You hadn’t yet realized you were crying when Sero leaned down to kiss and lick away the salty streams.

“Okay, princesa, I’ll give you what you need. How can I say no when you're being so good for me? Such a beautiful mess, all for me. So perfect. My good girl~” His right hand smoothes down your torso and settles between your thighs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come on, babygirl. Papi’s got you, I’ll take good care of you. Cum for Papi. Cum on my cock.”

Your final orgasm has your back arched off the bed, eyes crossed, tongue lolling out, screaming out a string of “Hanta”, “Papi”, and “I love you”. Sero keeps his pace steady, fucking you through your climax and trying to prolong it as long as he can. The feeling of your doughy pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice, the gloriously wrecked ahegao face, and the sound of your cries as you creamed on his dick had him right on the edge of his own high. He started to pull out, not wanting to cross any boundaries, when he felt your legs pull him in even further. He looks back to your face; hazy, loving eyes drawing him in with that innocent look.

“Please cum inside me Papi, I want it! I’m yours, I want you. I want you to fill me up.” The permission to claim his longtime love and the aftershocks of your orgasm having you still pulsing around him finally push him over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting in a feeble attempt to muffle his moans of your name as his hips stuttered, thick ropes of cum warming your insides and painting your walls white. You feel so full and so content. Staying inside you, Sero rolls the two of you over to lay on his back, still holding your sweaty bodies together as he kisses your forehead and strokes your hair, telling you how good you did, how happy he was, how proud he was of you.

No one has ever made you feel so good, so wanted. Normally, your post-sex thoughts are plagued with insecurities, but instead all yoou can think about is Sero and how perfect this was. How beautiful he made you feel… and how you didn’t want it to end.

“H-Hey… Um… Sero?” you timidly get his attention.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need you to start calling me Hanta if we’re gonna be together. It’s a little weird to call your boyfriend by their family name, isn’t it?… Unless you wanna call me Papi, of course~” He says, his normal goofy grin and teasing tone returned.

“Wait… You- you really want to be with me? You don’t want me to keep it a secret? I will if you tell me to… I don’t want to embarrass you, I know I’m not exactly the ‘trophy wife’ the other heroes go for… I just really like you- um- actually, I’ve been in love with you for years now, and I just got really excited that you wanted me and-” Your nervous muttering is cut off with his lips softly pressed against yours, his hand moving to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Mi amor, I’ve been in love with you for just as long. You are my trophy, the greatest part of me. Every single thing I said is true, and I’ve thought those things for our entire friendship. If you think for a second that I won’t be walking around shirtless, showing off all of these marks to Kirishima and Kaminari, you don’t know me at all.” He winks at you and brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “Princesa, babygirl, mi corazón… Nunca te dejaré, yo nunca te dejaré salir, yo prometo. I am yours, and you are mine.”

“I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you, too, y/n.”

You fall asleep on his chest to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat and steady breathing. Upon waking up, you assume you had just dreamed the entire affair, chalking it up to your vivid imagination and drinks at the ball. That is, until you realize you’re trapped in a tangle of limbs with Hanta, leg hiked over his body and arms encompassing each other. You try to shift slightly to see his sleeping face, but he stirs and rolls over on top of you with a groan. The jolt of his muscles jerking awake told you he also thought he had dreamed the entire thing, believing that the prospect of your mutual pining actually coming to fruition was too good to be true.

“Good morning, angel. I’m so glad you’re real… And that you’re all mine.” Sero softly sighs, voice rough from sleep, nuzzling his face into your chest and squeezing your soft midsection to hold you closer.

“Good morning, love. I’m so so happy, but there’s one thing…” You say, trying to hold back your giggles.

“What is it, baby? Is something wrong? What did I do?” Sero starts thinking of every possible scenario as you soothe his thoughts with a cheeky smile.

“I- um… I think I need you to carry me to the shower, you weren’t lying when you said I wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.” Both of you erupt in a fit of laughter. He scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the shower, so content in finally having his girl.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: WHEW okay… I’m actually really proud of this, and I hope you guys like it. The Latin Sero headcanon hits me so hard and I just absolutely simp for this sweet tape boy. Huge thank you to @reinawritesbnha for inspiring me to write this matchup, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten for encouraging me and giving me the courage to post, and my dear, sweet Sage for reading it to make sure I don’t embarrass myself and inspiring me to write in the first place. <3

#sero x reader #sero hanta #hanta sero #sero hanta smut #bnha #mha #mha sero

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fandomscombine · 3 years

Text

No, Not Like This [Part 2]

George Weasley x Reader

BG: Rewatched the New Girl S2x15. You know the one with the ICONIC Nick and Jess 1st Kiss? Now make it the reader and Geroge!

a/n: This second part follows more on their realization of what tf just happened. As did in S2x16. (so they don’t have scenes together, just their brains going into overdrive thinking they screwed up. don’t worry I’ll bring them back in pt3 hehe but first here’s some chaotic fun!)

This part’s voices of reason are.... Cho and Fred!

WC:1330

Read PART 1

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

George made his way back up to his dorm in a surprising cool calm manner. It was not until late the next morning did what he did sunk in.

What George had thought was a very nice, vivid dream- one he wish he would have the courage to act upon in real life, had actually happened, he panicked. ‘OH MY GOD! OH MY-YOU KISSED HER! YOU IDIOT!’

Fred, who had just arrived in their shared dorm, toast in hand, laughed at his very dishevelled twin queries. ‘Kissed who?’

‘Y/N. I kissed Y/N’

‘ohhh…’ George’s forwardness made Fred drop his toast. ‘FINALLY!’ He exclaimed, scooting George over.

‘wait What?’

Fred places his palms under his chin. ‘Now tell me how this all went down. Y/n made the first move, didn’t she? Please tell me she did or else I owe Ginny 5 galleons.’

While George had a rather peaceful slumber, you on the other hand, did not.

Twisting and turning, mind still stuck on the same sentence. Ranging between the perplexity of ‘George Weasley kissed me?’ to the absolute euphoria of ‘GEROGE WEASLEY KISSED ME!’ .

You touch you lips, gently as if by the feeling of his lips on yours would be washed away if not treated with care.

‘I meant something like that. I didn’t wanna kiss you because of a game. I want to kiss you because you mean something to me’

His parting words echoed in your head.

You Mean Something to Me.

That means he likes you too right? He has to… the boy literally said it…well in the bare minimum implied it. Who in their right mind would deliver a world-shattering kiss to someone they do not fancy?

Though there is one slight detail that could offset this whole theory……

He walked away.

The boy kissed, professed his feelings then exited.

And people say that women are enigmas.

You sighed, you definitely need a fresh pair of eyes here.

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashes 6:39am.

‘Great…’ You muttered, the stupid kiss has kept you awake, overthinking for almost 4 hours.

Rolling over, you layered on a hoodie to your pyjamas. ‘Well, she would just have to deal with me this early.’

You silently make your way out, trying your best to not wake any of your roommates.

In your desperation, the fact that the Ravenclaw’s common room location albeit not a secret, it had completely flown pass your head that they had no password but rather a riddle.

‘Please, can I get an easier riddle’ you pleased to the eagle knocker.

‘Which came first, the phoenix, or the flame?’

You huffed, ofcourse it won’t go easy on you.

‘How would I know?!’ you scowled. The door not granting you entrance just further adds to tour irritable state. How many more things had to be confusing? First George and now this!

‘I wasn’t there! You didn’t even give me a time frame, you stupid door! Ouch!’ Recoiling back in pain, you were sent aback whether be it from kicking the door or it getting back at you for mocking it, you weren’t sure.

‘Give me the full picture. Like is the Phoenix dying? Then the phonics came first than came the flame. If not then it would be vice versa, only a pile of ashes is seen from which a phoenix would be born… or reborn.’

Gosh, were you thankful that it’s too early in the morning for someone to see you rant to a door.

‘You know what? Whatever!’ You sighed in defeat; you would just have to hide from George during breakfast.

However, as you turn to leave, the most extraordinary thing happened.

‘OH My---’ You gawked at the now opened door. ‘It WORKED?!?’

‘It was a valid argument to the constrains presented.’ The eagle knocker remarked, ‘Now it you please, enter quickly, you are letting a cold draft in.’

‘Th-Thank you.’

You’ve been into the Ravenclaw Common Room before and the rows of floor to ceiling bookshelves never fail to intimidate you.

Your eyes land upon the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and the surrounding intricate tapestries, the soft glow of the sunrise transforming the circular room into a gallery fit for a palace.

‘Y/n?’ A voice called from the dark staircase.

‘AHH!’ You placed a hand to your chest. ‘CHO! What the heck?!? Don’t scare me like that!’

‘What are you doing here? How did you get in?’

‘OH uh… I ranted.’ You told her honestly.

‘You ranted.’ She said in disbelief.

‘Yes. But more on that later, I have more pressing matters.’ You stated, shaking the poor girl. ‘I NEED ADVICE CHO. CODE RED.’

‘CLEARLY.’ Cho sassed, dragging along to the sofa but you stood your ground. ‘y/n?’ Her tone now softer upon seeing your distressed face.

‘George kissed me.’

‘Whaaaaaaaaa?!’

You are utterly grateful for Ravenclaws minding their own business, a handful of early risers had gone out for breakfast passing you by. Ravenclaws no doubt has multitude of questions on what a Gryffindor is doing in their common room but had decided to not go down that rabbit hole and are more intrigued in guessing what breakfast specials there’d this last meal before Christmas break.

Though the more straightforward answer could be seen on Cho’s face.

It is too early to be dealing with this, but a friend is a friend. Though that doesn’t mean it stops Cho from internally swearing that her eyes are going to be permanently crossed from keeping up with your pacing about.

‘George kissed me and I didn’t even kissed me back-’ Pacing left, you recounted the previous night. As if sensing Cho call your bullshit, you caved. ‘okay fine! I kissed him back!’

Plopping face down onto the sofa, voice muffled by the pillow. ‘Is that what you want me to say?’ you demanded.

’I literally haven’t said a word for like over an hour’ uttered Cho matter of factly.

‘Sorry…’ You gaze up at her, pouting your lips as to make her forgive you faster before resuming to your grunts of ‘stupid George Weasley.’

Observing that your rant was over, Cho needed actual details in order to best help you. To help you out of this sticky situation or better yet some….realization, introspection…..That would be up to how honest you are with yourself. ’How was it though, was it…?’

You flop unto your back, mindless playing with your fingers as you recall, ‘It was like I was hit with a bunch of Cheering Charms.’

‘Really?’ Cocking her head, she continued. ’George was that good? How did he do it then?’

‘He just,’ Okay how were you to describe that magical moment? Wracking your brain but no words could do it justice. ‘He just like, grabbed me.’

‘uh huh’

Cho was unconvinced, so you decided to act it out.

Still lying down, you reach to the ceiling, clenching into fists. ‘and he took me, I mean it was strength, confidence.’

’mm hmm’

You brought your arms close to you, letting your eyes shut as you did so. ‘It was firm, but tender.’

’oh damn.’ Cho gasped.

‘oh yeah’ You hate how hot your face has become in a matter of seconds. ‘I saw through space and time for a minute, but that’s not the point.’

‘oh man what are you gonna do?’ Prompted Cho. This was it, the homerun, she thought.

‘I don’t know.’ You truthfully say. There are so many uncertainties, you genuinely don’t know. Wrapping yourself into a ball, you slip of the seat.

Leaning forward, Cho does the last trick on her list. The question that has been implied but left officially unanswered. ‘I mean do you…like George?’

You fake vomit. Your automatic defence system taking over. ‘bah yuck George? Ahhhh’ You tried to play it cool, chuckling. ‘Nooo!’

You’ve never told a soul! You and George are the best of friends-that’s the story.

Yet Cho’s unnerving brow challenges that narrative.

Halting, you swallowed.

‘Yes.’

Part 3, at the burrow will be coming up. So yeah.

It was supposed to be in this but I got carried away and got more inspiration from S2x16 where Nick and Jess had moments of albeit very panicked self-realization on the meaning of the kiss.

Taglist for this fic ‘No, Not like this’:

Thanks also for the support in part 1 and interest in reading more of the fic!🥰

@l0ttadreamz @vintagecherrypie106 @remmyswritings @jenniweaslee @iluvharrypotter172 @miaafrances @strawberriesonsummer @stressisakiller

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley imagine #Fred and George Weasley #cho chang #weasley x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #fandomscombine writes

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

Model Wife-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @nofckingfighting)

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I HAVE ALSO CREATED A PROMPT LIST HERE IF YOU WANT TO TAKE SOMETHING FROM THAT)

Masterlist

Requested by @justsimplyme93: ‘Hey! How are you? I read the last tommy shelby one you did and i love it. Could you do another arranged marriage with tommy where he still go’s to lizzie and the reader asks to speak with him.’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Cheating, sex, swearing, arguing slight violence

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sipping on my tea, I looked around at our guests in the house, all members of the ‘Grace Shelby Institute’. We had to keep up appearances, and although both Tommy and I hated socialising with people who used to turn their noses up at people like us, they were the ones providing the money. Normally, we would keep most events out of the house, but Tommy had pissed me off, and seeing as he was too busy to help organise it, I made all the arrangements; being petty was sometimes the only way I could get back at him.

“Mrs Shelby, what a lovely home you have! And the decor for today is just lovely.” an older, highly posh woman gushed to me.

I smiled.“Thank you. I am quite proud of myself.”

“I have not had the chance to speak with your husband yet. It seems he keeps vanishing into thin air.”

“Yes, he does have a habit of doing that.”

Knowing that there was no point in trying to track down Tommy, I suffered through an awfully dull conversation with the lady, having to disguise my boredom with polite smiles as more women joined us. They were all much older, I had seen a few young women here, all married to very rich men who were twice their own age; I suppose I couldn’t judge, it wasn’t like Tommy and I were actually in love.

“You know Mrs Shelby, I have always wondered how you met a man like Thomas Shelby.” one of the women said.

She was bold to say something like that, especially to me. I refrained from sighing as I started to recite the story Tommy and I made up.

“Well, it seems very cliche, I must say. We met when he was meeting with my father, obviously wanting to unite our businesses. I ended up being in the right place at the right time, we easily fell into a conversation with each other which was unfortunately interrupted by my father. Thomas was very confident to take me out to dinner, right in front of my father may I add! Surprisingly he was a charmer, and I guess we just fell in love along the way.”

The ladies all cooed, some covering their heart with their hand as if it were the most romantic thing they had ever heard. It was all bullshit. We had to make it as vague as possible, make sure that they had nothing more to gossip about. Both Tommy and I had been married before, they were our real loves; and both had been murdered by a rival, but who received more sympathy after they died? And who was called vicious, degrading names when she re-married to a wealthier, more powerful man? People of ‘society’ were disgusting.

“Finn,” I called out as I approached him, luckily escaping the women,“have you seen your brother?”

“Which one?” he smirked.

I smiled back, ruffling up his hair to annoy him.“The one I’m married to.”

He quickly smoothed it back down.“Not sure. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Alright, just keep an eye out for him, yeah?”

Although it wasn’t uncommon for Tommy to disappear (especially to avoid these groups of snobs), he had been gone for a while. He may have been frustrated by my choice of venue, but he would still inform me if he had to leave for business. This made me all the more suspicious.

Leaving the main room, I hastily walked down the halls, leaving the noise behind me. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, wishing that I didn't have an idea of where he could be...and who with. Brushing past staff carrying food and beverages, I made my way upstairs, checking our bedroom first. He was the lowest of low if he was up here; luckily, they hadn’t used this room. Checking through our bedrooms, it was only two doors down from our own when I heard heavy breathing. Taking a deep breath, I gripped onto the handle, bursting in and confirming my suspicions.

“If you’re almost finished, we have guests waiting for you downstairs.” I stated, averting my gaze away from the scene before me.

Lizzie had been bent over the bed, with her dress pulled up over her hips (how classy), and my husband right behind her. She bolted upright, shimmying her dress back down and pulling her underwear up; even after being caught in the act, she looked smug, head held high as she walked past me. Looking back at Tommy, he had an annoyed expression as he did up his trousers. I didn’t want to speak to him, but he called me back before I had a chance to leave.

“We need to speak about this.” he said.

“We do. But not now, not whilst I am hosting this event for the organisation you created for your dead wife.” I snapped, slamming the door shut behind me.

Luckily I had put a time limit on the event, and this time there was a genuine smile on my face as they all left. That was before I remembered what I had witnessed earlier. It was going to go down much messier than I first anticipated, especially since the tension between us had been building up after I caught them in the act. My footsteps were heavy on the way to Tommy’s office, not even bothering the knock before entering. In his usual spot at his desk, whiskey already poured, there was no reaction from him when he saw the fury in my eyes.

“Glad you’re settled for the evening.” I spat, hands on my hips as I stood opposite him.

“This is about earlier?” he coughed.

“What else would we talk about?”

“I’m guessing it has upset you.”

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

He didn’t reply, instead lighting a cigarette.

“Tommy, I understand that there is that bullshit saying ‘all men have urges that need to be fulfilled’, but it doesn’t mean you can disrespect me in my own home.”

“Your home?”

“Yes, my home. I’m here a lot more than you are anyway. And of all the times to be fucking her, you chose the annual Grace Shelby Institute meet up?”

“Don’t say her name.” he mumbled.

I scoffed.“It’s the only way I can get your attention nowadays.”

Tommy raised from his chair, still smoking.“Attention? Since when have you ever wanted my attention?”

“We both knew that this marriage wasn’t based off of love, nor were we ever going to fall in love along the way. However, I have been nothing but a model wife to you. I keep up appearances on your behalf, I make up excuses for your disappearances, I also ensure that your reputation isn’t tarnished by people speaking about you behind your back! And if that doesn’t deserve some fucking respect then I don’t know what does! Also, don’t you think I miss the touch of a man? How many times have I come across men that have shamelessly flirted with me whilst you’re not around, and how easy would it have been to sneak away for just a moment to gain some satisfaction?!”

I could feel my face burning up as I ranted, hating that I wasn’t gaining any sort of reaction from him. Was he this blank with Grace? Was he this blank with Lizzie?

“So you’re asking me to stop seeing Lizzie?”

“I’m not asking you that, because even if I did, you would keep doing it anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I just want respect. I don’t deserve to be humiliated like this.”

“No one knows.”

“Your family does! And even if they didn’t, that means I don’t deserve respect?”

He sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette.“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You said it nevertheless.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Really Tommy? I want some common fucking decency.”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

I groaned, leaving before I said something I truly regretted. He was acting as if he didn’t give a shit (which he probably didn’t), which only angered me more. Who would want to be stuck in such a place? Letting out an angry scream, I picked up an expensive vase, raising it high above my head before throwing it on the floor with all my might. The pieces glided out across the hardwood floor, some spraying onto my shoes. A few servants rushed in, obviously alarmed by the noise. Instead of apologising, I marched past them, heading up the long stairs and to the bedroom; I would have preferred to grab the leftover bottles of champagne as a nightcap, but exhaustion from my anger would have to do.

Tommy still slept beside me that week, he still ate breakfast with me, sometimes dinner if he wasn't busy. He also tried to have normal, short conversations with me, though even when we glanced at each other, the tension was thick between us. It pissed me off that he was acting normal, and I knew that's why he was doing it...making me even more mad.

"I have a potential business partner coming here today." He informed me over breakfast.

"Why are they coming here?" I asked.

"I couldn't have a meeting elsewhere."

"I thought you said you don't like bringing business home...though come to think of it, you don't really do that either."

"Glad that's settled then."

I assumed that Tommy would want me out of the way when this 'partner' arrived. A good place to go was out to the stables, tend to the horses to take up time. However, I wasn't in the mood for riding or mucking out, instead opting to watch them be trained for racing. Leaning against a fence, I wasn't surprised that my mind was elsewhere, wondering why Tommy was still being so nice to me. We very rarely argued, mostly because neither of us wanted to face the problems at hand, especially when there were more pressing matters to deal with. But after yelling at him like I had, I expected some sort of silent treatment, or even for him to avoid me completely.

"Mrs Shelby?" a butler said from behind me. He continued as I turned around."Mr Shelby's meeting was to commence at twelve, but he is not here at present. However, his business partner has arrived. And..."

"And?"

"And Mr Shelby has asked that you keep him company whilst he is gone. He has assured me he shall be no longer than half an hour."

It was highly unusual for me to meet any of Tommy's associates. This meant that the man couldn't be any sort of threat, he wouldn't expose me like this. Following the butler back inside, I followed him to the parlour, preparing to act as a good host and a good wife.

"I'm sorry that my husband has kept you waiting, he's never been great with time keeping." I said as I walked in, the man having his back towards me.

As he turned around, my eyes widened, as did his.

"Christopher?!" I exclaimed.

"(Y/N)?!" He smiled, rushing towards me.

"Is that really you? What are you doing engaging in business with the Shelby's?"

"My firm is expanding, for some reason Thomas Shelby stepped forward and offered to become partners. I haven't heard about you for years!"

"Neither I about you. Ever since you moved away, we lost contact."

"And now you're the new Mrs Shelby. Bit risky isn't it?"

I laughed."Come sit down, u want to hear everything you have been doing since we last saw each other."

Christopher was a very old friend of mine. We had known each other since we were eighteen, becoming friends after our families were connected through business. We had been young people wanting to rebel, wanting to have fun; we were never in a relationship together, though we would sleep with each other, spend long nights out drinking with our friends. As a lot of my friends went off to get married to higher business men, he was still there, until I selfishly left him behind to marry my husband, the man I truly loved. I had loved Christopher, not so much as someone I wanted to spend my life with, though neither just a friend; it sounded more complicated that it was.

"You know, I always felt slightly bad for marrying and leaving you like that." I admitted.

"Only slightly?" he nudged me.

"It's not my fault I fell in love! We both said that we would never marry each other, it wasn't right."

"No, you are correct. Though, that didn't stop us doing things that couples do."

I giggled."And we did that a lot."

"I'm sure Mr Shelby keeps you busy."

"He would...if he was ever here. Though even if he was..."

"(Y/N)?"

"I've said too much already."

"Have the two of you ever...or haven't rather-"

"No we haven't. And I am telling you this in full secrecy, it must never leave your lips." I pointed a finger at him, becoming serious.

"I promise. I would never do anything to expose you like that."

"Thank you Christopher." I laid my hand on his thigh, thinking nothing of it until he placed his over mine.

Slipping away my hand, I looked away from him, feeling how intense our eye contact was becoming. It was stupid that my heart was beating faster, I was becoming hot under the collar over the tiniest amount of contact.

"I'm assuming your wife knows who you are making a deal with?" I said to start the conversation again.

"There is no Mrs in my life at the moment. I'm afraid work came first and well...there has never been much time."

"Oh Christopher, that's no excuse! Let me guess, you've lost your charm?"

"It's been working on you, hasn't it?"

He got me again. Glancing around, I saw no servants, though I wouldn't be surprised if they were eavesdropping. However, it was Tommy and I that employed them, if they wanted to lose their job, that would he the way to do it. Standing up, I gestured for Christopher to follow.

"We're going on a walk." I announced.

"What about your husband?"

"He will be ages before he gets here. And I'm allowed to show my old friend around the place."

We headed out of the front door, and without saying anything, I guided him down the path that led away from the house.

"(Y/N), I thought you were showing me around your home?" Christopher pointed out.

"I am. We're just starting at the beginning."

"What is that...hut?"

It was a small stone shed, one that would have been used to either keep guns or tools used to maintain the land, keep it tidy. Tommy had another one built closer, initially wanting to knock it down but soon forgetting about it. Now it was empty, the only things remaining being a desk and a chair. It was in front of the trees, slightly hidden by them. You would have to have a sharp eye to spot it, whether you were walking or driving by. Using my shoulder to budge it open, I stepped inside, closing the door after Christopher walked in.

"(Y/N), I'm not stupid, I know why we've come here." He said, staying close by me.

I hesitated to speak, knowing that I hadn't thought this through properly."Christopher... I wouldn't be doing this if-"

"Your husband is Thomas Shelby, this is dangerous for both of us."

"It isn't. He's allowed to go off and do what he wants, because he's Thomas fucking Shelby, and he's a man. Even if he found out about any of this, he wouldn't hurt someone if I asked him not to. He's good to me in that manner."

His hands came up to either side of my face."I'm worried about you, I've never seen you so..."

"Desperate?" I clung onto his jacket, pulling him closer.

"I couldn't believe it was you when you walked in. You're still as beautiful as you were when we were eighteen."

Although he was being a sweetheart and I hadn't received such compliments in a long time, I was inpatient. We both knew where this was headed, and it wasn't going to be as romantic or adventurous as it used to be.

Hungrily kissing me, his arms wrapped around my torso, reaching down to my arse as I pulled off his coat. Pulling away for a moment, he pushed me towards the desk, helping me scramble on top of it. My legs instantly spread as I ruffled up the bottom of my dress, using one hand to grab the back of his neck and kiss him again. I felt his hand slide up my thigh, gasping as he pulled my underwear aside. The sensation filling my body had been badly missed, and I felt myself writhing against his fingers. Leaning back against the wall, I moaned loudly, heavily breathing as I grinded my hips. He slowed down his movements, knowing how much it was frustrating me.

"Christopher..." I struggled to say."Fuck, please...don't stop."

He leaned in to my neck, sloppily missing it as he spoke in between."I loved teasing you like this."

I groaned as he removed his fingers, instantly reaching down to unbuckle his trousers. Before I could take a turn to torture him back, he pulled me off the desk, quickly turning me around and bending me over it. I yelped out in surprise, smiling at the thrill of it all. He tapped my legs apart, moving my skirts out of the way. I felt his skin on mine before he thrusted into me, making me cry out in pleasure. It didn't even matter if anyone could hear us, I hadn't fucked for God knows how long.

He was slow at first, building up the feeling that was in the pit of my stomach. I moaned out his name, reaching back to grab any piece of hm. He had a tight grip on my hips, especially as he started to quicken his pace. The noises escaping his mouth were somehow exciting me, I needed to feel and hear all of this. The pinching of skin from his hold didn't bother me, both of us shouting out each others names along with profanities before he came, but he kept going until I did too. With both of us finished and out of breath, Christopher gently collapsed over me.

"Fuck." I sighed as he pulled out.

Shakily straightening up, I made sure I was dressed correctly, kissing him gently one last time. My body couldn't believe what it had just gone through, and it already wanted more. Before we could say or do anything else, we heard the distant sound of a car, and it could only be headed this way.

"Shit." Christopher stressed, hastily getting dressed.

"It's OK! It'll be OK, Christopher!" I tried to calm him down.

"He's back already!"

"We'll head back and act like nothing happened. I was just walking around with you."

Making sure we both looked normal, we nervously made our way back to the house. My legs were still shaking as he speedily walked, but I said nothing, seeing the stress and fear plastered on his face.

"Ah, Mr Alexander, I see you have met my wife." Tommy was stood in the foyer, unnaturally smiling.

"We actually know each other. We grew up together." I explained, standing beside him.

Then it clicked.

"If you don't mind, I just need a quick word with my wife."

Christopher nodded, politely smiling at both of us before following the butler to Tommy's office. He turned to face me, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

"You invited him on purpose." I said.

"You might want to go lie down for a bit." He didn't say it maliciously, but I was still wary.

"Tommy, please don't hurt him. I initiated it, please don't-"

"I'm not going to do anything to him. He's done what I thought he would do."

"I'm confused. Why would you want him to sleep with me?"

"You said so yourself, why should it just be me doing what I want? You're Mrs fucking Shelby, you've got the power." He started to walk away, leaving me to still think about what he had done.

Still shaky but reeling from the events that unfolded, I ended up smiling."That scheming mother fucker."

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby one shot #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders one shot #bbc peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders bbc

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kth1 · 3 years

Note

why do you like taegi the most?

i’ve had this ask sitting in my inbox for a hot minute because i wanted to be able to respond when i had the time to lay out a novel. maybe... i don’t know how long this will be but here we go bubs. thank you for asking in advance!

for starters... kim taehyung.

my ultimate. the man that choses me no matter what i did. i admire him, aspire to be more like him, and adore him to all extremes. from his younger years and to present years, this guy really sticks out with personality for me. (yes he’s attractive but like, it’s really the personality that makes me coo). i could actually feel a vibe/energy toward taehyung in which in some sort of mystical au where i could meet him, i feel like i’d connect with him very well (you can disagree, idc). this is just my perception. yes, he’s a lump of an enigma and that’s exactly what i like about him. you never fully know what you’re getting with tae besides the fact that you know you don’t know what you’re going to get! the element of him being spontaneous and can reach all ends of the spectrum from animation really appeals to me. deep down, i feel like he is a very sensitive soul, things bother him quiet often but he masks. and with that mask he makes a great conversationalist because i believe he knows how to be appropriate with pushing back biased thoughts to be able to hear out others - however i feel like he runs into people who don’t understand or are willing to hear him out in return. sure he has trouble expressing things from time to time, but i think it’s because of the emotions and thoughts that course through him are nondefinitive. you have to know and learn tae to get and understand tae. (not disregarding any of the others when i speak this, btw) he is honestly, truly amazing in my eyes and that’s probably one of the main reasons why i feel toward him the most. he can be soft, cuddly, and kind. he as an earth sign supports the stereotypes of down to earth, wise, and also ambitious. also, tae can pull out some ruthless, playful, tactics out of left field because that’s just how he is - and we love all sides of him (or what he wants to show us). his constant creativeness is enjoyable, how many times does tae want to go against the standard? nearly all the time! and he pulls it off! because i feel like tae doesn’t fully care to be the same, he wants to be himself. and that’s so utterly sexy of him you have no idea. (again, you can disagree with me) but sometimes i personally feel like i can be very similar to tae in many ways, with thoughts, feelings, and creative drives. i feel we both attempt to put on our fronts, try to remain humble and respectful. understand we are just humans and we are the same. and also can be quick to call out the suspicious acts so bluntly because our bullshit meter is always running. not to mention, both he and i enjoying being dramatically extra for no apparent reason sometimes. this is how i conclude the fermented idea in my mind that maybe, just maybe, i would make a great friend with tae if i ever had a chance.

mr. min yoongi.

this many radiates comfort and i feel like he’s super trustworthy. yoongi is the type of person i feel like i could spill all my beans in front of, not matter how heated, sad, or excited i may be, and he’d openly accept it all. his level of patience is something i strive to have. the way he’s so witty and sharp tongued, smart, and ready to stir the pot from time to time to challenge against you is something i find remarkable and again - enjoyable. in the nicest of ways, yoongi can easily tell you how it is... and if you push the wrong buttons he can probably easily tell you how it be with more tone and harsher words. however, yoongi is straight-forward majority of the time, something i am like as well. he is a pisces with virgo moon so i feel real bad with the inner battles his brain probably constantly undergoes, all those hidden thoughts he doesn’t want to reveal to most. i feel that yoongi has such a massive intuition, a general 6th sense about him. in many occasions, i also see myself with similar personality as yoongi. those ‘tsundere’ vibes, introverted, keeps to ourselves, and randomly once we’re comfortable we ‘act out’ and surprise everyone, but they think it’s funny/cute, etc. yoongi (here i go with my delulu au’s where maggie is y/n) would be the type of person i look up to and always want to talk to - to tell him about what’s bothering me. even if i feel like im boring or annoying, i feel like i’d be able to open up to him fast because i just have that confidence and belief to him. in most cases, he acts in a calmly manner. whereas, once i loose my cool i come out very heated an aggressive because i cannot hold back as much as he can - another thing i wish i was more like. the natural, effortless and relaxed aspect of yoongi, is also very very attractive (all yoongi bias’ are going to agree to this one) but there is no lie when i speak this. he doesn’t showboat, he doesn’t parade around saying he’s the best and have a large ass ego. he is just yoongi who is doin’ himself. we like this shit. you do you booboo!

taegi as a whole:

yes, completely super in love with the friendship of taegi. yes, mainly because these two take all my food from my table and bid me goodnight. however, i love all the friendships between members!!! but because im a taegi fanatic because of the likeness i have to bother individuals, i will comment on their bond bc i love it. golly, where do i start? hm, for beginners... let’s just remember how taegi would typically have the most conflicting ideas, resulting in the most funny scenarios whenever they sometimes were paired up in games or something. (like holding hands because they disagree??? cute) how yoongi - to this day - tends to have a hard time changing tae’s mind / saying no to tae because tae is a wee bit stubborn and want to do / try things out. when tae always wants to be yoongi’s hype man, enjoy yoongi’s rap, verses, highest key is trying to take over all of yoongi’s parts in each rapping song because skrrt skrrt! together, taegi is very touching to me. tae admires and looks up to yoongi in so many ways, and yoongi shows such a concern in undertones towards tae is endearing. like, you can’t tell me this friendship ain’t cute. i would politely throat chop you and call you a fool. yes i’m hella biased, i know this, however i don’t care what you say against me because it is what i like to see and crave a bond like these two beans! taegi; two fun-filled people who are honest, deep, and most importantly... they are true. (not saying anyone is ‘fake’, please shake that thought from your head!!!) im saying like, true in the sense of real people. an archaic expression of being true to oneself, yourself, others, etc. they are true to most of everything (in my mind). both of these two are very commendable and you can learn a lot through them!

this concludes my maggie rants for now. please come by another time after i recharge! i know i haven’t touched every single thing about each category, i know i have more to say but just don’t know how to say it or can’t bring all the thoughts to the table for now. thank you to the anon who prompted this question. and also thanks to whoever ends up reading this response! again, i love all the members in their own special ways! i don’t intend to disregard others but this ask caters to my personal loves. <3

#ask #Anonymous #taegi

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thevioletjones · 3 years

Note

31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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axe-armed-gnome-jon · 3 years

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day two: relationship

I noticed kind of now being a day late with the prompts for @tmanostalgiaweek but I’m having fun so...yes?

-You know what? We should spend the breaks together more often- Tim passed an hand between his purplish, the brand new dye that had aroused the compliments of Sasha and Martin, and then lay your hands on the break room table.

There was tea in front of them, and Martin seemed to have just come out of a hot night of sex, drugs and lo-fi remixes from how exhausted he was.

His light eyes were stirred with a confusion similar to that of a puppy dog during a storm, while the cheek was held up only by his fist closed.

-Tim. I have a problem-.

It’s about time he spilled the beans.

-Take it out, Mimmo. I’m all ears-

-I hate when you call me Mimmo-

-I didn’t know that-

-Now you do-

Tim froze for a moment, seeing the other looking away with shame.

-How sour, what’s the problem?- he tried to be as apprehensive as possible, activating the “big brother” switch.

Martin seemed reluctant, almost like there was a cap in his throat ready to burst at any moment.

He was blushing, how cute.

-Ihaveacrush- muttered, lowering the eyes again.

Tim looked at him for a single instant, one step from spitting the tea.

-I didn’t understand- lied.

Ah, crushes.

The good old crushes.

He was a great expert on the topic.

Unfortunately for him.

-I have a crush. It’s awkward- said the other louder, nervously scratching the back of his head.

-Well, it depends on the object. It’s not embarrassing to have a crush per se, it’s embarrassing to have a crush on... -

-Jon. I have a crush on Jon- before he could finish the sentence, Martin had preceded him, the tone similar to that of a sinner who confesses with the priest.

And Tim’s world collapsed.

-Are you stupid?- after a few seconds of deep meditation (read as: after having mentally discarded all the life choices that had led him to that situation and after having bitterly repented of all) he sighed out that short but coincided statement, Putting his hands on the table so he could get a closer look at his partner.

-Hey, it’s not my fault! It’s not my fault if he’s pretty, and smart, and brilliant, with his white strands and his hazel eyes and his small hands and his perfect aquiline nose and-

-He treats you like shit, Martin- Tim threw himself on the back of the chair, putting an hand on his face in an act of sheer exasperation. -He really treats you like a foot rag. It’s a miracle he hasn’t fired you yet, and you get a crush on him? Have you become a moron?-

Martin started to mindlessly tapping his finger on the cup’s edge.

-In fact, I wanted to ask you how to do this. I’ve never had a crush and now I’m...? Confused is the right word- he smiled mechanically, finally drinking sips of tea now cold. -I don’t know what to do. Every time I think about him, I feel my heart melting like a candle in the room of two lovers, and every time he looks at me I blush like-

-Slow down, Catullus- Tim had let himself go in a nervous chuckle, hearing Martin’s mouth fill with poetry. -If you want some advice, here it is: don’t think about it. Try to live this life as peacefully as possible, and try not to get into trouble with Jon. It’s normal, I can’t help you much. Try to...try to get into his favours. Do something for him- he looked at the tea -Try to bring him tea from now on-.

Martin remained silent, meditating himself for a few moments (to be read as: thinking intensely of the whole universe world), then smiling as if he had finally found the ultimate meaning of life.. -Thanks Tim, you’re a genius! - Taking the cup and trotting towards the sink, Martin gave him a pat.

-Let’s not overreact-.

Soon after, Tim was washing his hands in the bathroom.. He had spent three hours researching a single task, because he was a perfectionist and the devil is always in the details, and going to the bathroom was a kind of salvation.

In every sense of the word.

The water slipped on his hands, his reflection smiled sly in the mirror, when Jon materialized at his side with his usual severe expression.

Tim had never been a jumpscare lover.

-Good morning, boss- found himself muttering, wetting all the sleeves of the sweatshirt. -How are you? -.

-This is not the time to say bullshit Tim, I have a problem- said the other with the voice of those who did not want to be there, fixing his reading glasses on the nose. Another one.

Tim swallowed saliva..

-Speak, I listen to you- threw out in a sigh, closing the faucet and leaning against the sink.

-Martin- Jon wasn’t exactly used to talking about his problems, so he didn’t know how to behave. -Martin was in short sleeves today. Did you see his shoulders? He has nice shoulders. I think he swam, because he has swimmer’s shoulders. Sure, I used to swim too but as you can see my shoulders are really-

-You’re rambling, Jon- Tim had to go and finish the job, he wasn’t there to hear the rants of the oldest young man he had ever known. -Be coincident. What is the problem?-

Big brother instinct: on.

Jon sighed deeply, opening the tap with a movement of the elbow.

-Martin is cute. He brought me the tea- he managed to make a tiny smile. -He was kind-.

Tim’s arms were one step away from falling.

He wanted to beat them both.

-So what? - He had to repress his instinct to start screaming, continuing to lean on the sink nonchalantly.

-”So what”. I think Martin is cute! It’s not a good thing!- snapped nervously.

-How dramatic-

-I have every right to be dramatic!-

-But why? -

-Because I don’t know what to do! -

-Don’t think about it- exasperated, he recycled his old advice. -Just try not to think about it. It’s simple-.

Jon stayed a moment to think, he had never been good at not thinking, but deduced that maybe he could try.

-Thanks, Tim-murmured, wiping his hands with a piece of paper. -I owe you my life-

-Let’s not overreact-.

He sat down again at the desk and after attending not one but two idiots with love problems, he was able to take a deep breath.

Okay, now he could finally get back to work.

He got comfortable in his chair, opened the computer again, ready to continue his job.

At least until he heard Sasha’s voice call him.

-Hey, Tim. I have a problem- Sasha was at the printer’s side, arms crossed and hair tied in a high ponytail.

-You too a love problem? Uh? You too have a love problem and you need your Tim to fix it? Huh? Huh?- He clapped his hands on the desk, feeling the cheeks and the brain boiling. -I’m tired, too many problems to solve. Too much damage to repair and too many morons to mate. If you have a love problem, the solution of old Tim is "don’t think about it". Just don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it- he burst into an embarrassing rash, taking his head in his hands.

Sasha wasn’t getting it. He observed him as if he had just turned into a cockroach, holding his arms to his chest and taking on the expression of a sleepy student trying to understand the algebra lesson.

-Tim. The printer stopped working-.

#tmanostalgiaweek #inspired by a true story #the magnus archives #tim stoker #martin blackwood #sasha james #jonathan sims #tma fic #tma

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louiserandom · 4 years

Text

Of Punishments and Rewards

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: M

Summary: The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. During one such clash, however, Madara suffers an accidental concussion and proceeds to not-so-accidentally flirt with, grope, and expose his secret affair with none other than the white-haired Senju he's supposed to hate.

Now this has the whole village intrigued.

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi info is in the header!

The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. So when today the Uchiha Clan Head, foul mood and all, stomps towards an unsuspecting Tobirama (who really isn’t bothering anybody and seems to be busy enough picking out oranges) and starts shrieking at the top of his lungs about some manner of ‘experimental bullshit' crawling out of Tobirama's 'death trap of a lab,' most of the passersby find themselves stifling a yawn.

Another day, another bout of fires and flooding from the two village founders whose hate for each other hasn’t diminished in the slightest in the two years of Konoha’s existence.

Grown stronger, if anything.

“BECAUSE I AM NOT,” Madara bellows at the end of his first public rant of the day (though surely not the last), “GOING TO STAND FOR YOUR BRAZEN INCOMPETENCE ANYMORE, SENJU!”

Of course, Madara accusing Tobirama of incompetence is also nothing new, although it is common knowledge that it’s the latter who often has to get the Hokage and his best friend out of ridiculously foolish debacles.

(Konoha still remembers how the two godlike shinobi somehow stumbled into quite the deep hole intended for garbage disposal and in their drunken stupor ended up forgetting that they could have simply jumped outーwhat with their immense chakra reserves no less. Tobirama, naturally, had been exceptionally cross that day.)

“Incompetence?” Tobirama only scoffs in answer. “Whatever problem you have with how I handle my duties, Uchiha, pales in comparison to the damage your complete lack of logic deals to society.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Madara snaps, fists clenching and chakra becoming visible alreadyーa faintly shimmering fire-cloak upon his form. That really never bodes well for the market’s survival. “And study the logic behind proper fucking sleep so your complete lack of sense and self-restraint doesn’t lead to more dangerous fucking jutsu that spiral out of fucking control!”

This does perk up a few ears; after all, what novelty of Tobirama Senju’s could appear more dangerous than his summoning of an undead army that past Obon Festival?

“I am conducting a perfectly safe study,” Tobirama says, though Madara doesn’t seem like he believes him at all. “And not of a jutsu but a living being. Though it’s unsurprising your handful of brain matter failed to distinguish the two.”

“A living being with nine godsdamned tails made out of enough chakra to wipe out the whole of Fire Country?!”

This perks up a few more ears but seeds no panic; it’s thanks to Tobirama, after all, that most of Konoha has seen much, much worse.

“It's a perfectly docile and friendly chakra fox,” Tobirama insists, crossing his arms. “Now for the love of all things holy and unholy, stop your shrieking.” He glances at the mostly disinterested crowd. “You’re embarrassing me. And yourself, though I doubt there’s any room to sink lower than you have.”

“I will fucking destroy you, you worthless piece of shit!” The crackles of a budding Katon flicker around Madara’s fists. “Now go and take care of your fucking experiment-living-chakraーwhatever bullshit, or I will fight you and there will be no remains left for your brother to cry over.”

Tobirama glares, straightening to his full height which has him towering above Madara’s bristling frame. “How so much fight can fit in so little a man,” he sneers, “I will never understand.”

Three things happen in quick succession.

Naturally, Madara attacks. A massive raging wall of fire sizzles straight at Tobirama, who matches Madara’s wild toothy grin with a smirk as he jumps out of the way with the usual easeーonly for Madara to charge at him, fist coated with white-hot flames, and unsurprisingly, Tobirama dodges yet again.

What does come as a surprise is Madara’s slight... miscalculation, it seems, as his eyes linger a bit too long in the general direction of Tobirama’s thighs for some reason, and he’s just slow enough to miss the giant crate of oranges that falls from a panicking store owner’s shelf.

“Madara-sama!” the salesman cries as the legendary Uchiha collides with the box headfirst and drops limply to the ground. “F-forgive me,” the poor man stutters, appearing quite a bit more worried about Tobirama than Madara’s squirming form.

After all, neither of the two are happy when their fights are interrupted before they can destroy at least one building, and as expected, the Senju in question frowns and visibly deflates.

“Madara?” Tobirama asks, tentative, banishing the spikes of ice he’s conjured with his jutsu.

“Mmm,” Madara articulates from the ground, face scrunched in pain as he squints at the sky as if it’s personally offended him. “Mm-wha?..”

In a yet unseen show of kindness, Tobirama walks up to him and kneels to check on Madara’s condition. Quite a few stares shift in their direction. Shouldn’t Tobirama be inclined to leave the Uchiha to suffer?

Apparently not.

“Madara? Can you hear me?” Receiving no answer, Tobirama coaxes him to sit up as he checks over his head. Though unwounded, it does appear he’s seriously concussed as he starts slurring nonsense and pointing at a part of the crowd mumbling something about ‘fute birdsies.’ “Listen, IーAnija will be really upset if you’re seriously hurt, so can you tell meー”

Madara slaps a gloved hand roughly over Tobirama’s mouth. Another uncharacteristic move that provokes many a frown. The pair usually avoid skin to skin contact religiously, even when fighting.

“Your lips,” Madara slurs, eyes unfocused as he stares dazedly at his supposed enemy, “could putーbe put to... much better use than talking.”

“W-what?” Tobirama stammers, shoving the hand away and scrambling to his feet.

“I said your lips,” Madara tries to clarify, before Tobirama cuts him off, “Shut the fuck up, you moron!” he grits through his teeth, extending a hand to the Uchiha as he flops back down to lie on the ground.

“And get up," Tobirama orders, "now. I’m taking you to Anija. Concussions are tricky to heal and I might not be able to avoid leaving lasting effects.”

Madara smirks, and for some reason that prompts a look of horror to settle on Tobirama’s face. For good reason, as the onlookers discover.

“It’s always up for you, Tobirama,” Madara’s slurring is mixed with a bit of a stupid-sounding drawl as he positively ogles Tobirama, eyes once again lingering a tad lower than appropriate. “The question is if you wanna play.”

“Madara!” Tobirama hisses, casting death glares at the crowds now circled around them as one unified and now definitely intrigued mob. “Stop this foolishness right this instantー”

“Stop isn’t our safe-word, Tobiー”

“ーand take my fucking hand!”

“I’d rather have it wrapped around myー”

“MADARA!” Tobirama is trembling with fury at this point, chakra radiating killing intent enough for shinobi and civilian alike to feel it wash over them. The people gathered only scuffle closer, disappointed that the rest of Madara’s sentence gets drowned out by Tobirama’s shout and their own collective gasp. Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not. Here.”

“I kno-ow,” Madara whines, finally grasping for Tobirama’s hand only to use it to yank him down once he gets ahold of it. “This hand indefーit definitely needs to be reaching a lot lower.”

“Madara, gods fucking dammit,” Tobirama growls as he wrests himself from Madara hold, “people are staring.”

To be fair, the self-proclaimed honorable and pure-hearted citizens of Konoha make an effort to pretend they aren’t gapingーwhich really isn’t an easy task though, because the display is turning out to be more exciting than any of the village-wide festivities to date.

“Oh?” Madara seems to be trying to raise one eyebrow but ends up skewing his face into an awkward frown at best. “If yesterday’s anything to go by, you don’t mind a little voytriloquism yourself, koibito.”

Another round of gasps follows as Tobirama blanches, mouth slightly agape and lips trembling. Someone helpfully shouts, “Do you mean voyeurism, Uchiha-sama?”

“Yes-yes!” Madara pipes up, still squirming helplessly on the ground. “Voyagerism. That.”

“Uchiha,” Tobirama glowers, a sheen of blue energy wrapping around his limbs as his ire escalates, “I am literally begging you toー”

“Didn’t get enough earlier, eh?” Madara leers, finally managing to wriggle into a half-sitting position, sending a few oranges rolling on the ground. Intrigued and unperturbed by Tobirama’s spluttering (and what a strange sight it is, to see the usually composed Senju at such a loss for words), Madara picks up two of the fruits and proceeds to shock the bystanders to the core once more, “You know, they say fresh squeezed oranges are good for you in the morning, but I think your fresh squeezed diー”

“MADARA, NO!” Tobirama roars, this time quite evidently to drown out Madara’s words.

“Madara, yes,” the Uchiha moans, “that’s all I remember you saying to me this morning.” A few desperate “Kai” resound in the area as Madara Uchiha incarnate starts licking the oranges in his hands. He keeps eye contact with Tobirama all the while as he sucks on them, shameless and wanton, swirling his tongue over the fruits with such wanton enthusiasm one might think him a common harlot. “Remind you of anything, To-bi-ra-ma?”

Needless to say, the world plunges into chaos. Choruses of cheers and wolf whistles, sounds of both affront and confusion erupt from the bystanders as quite a few women rush to cover their husbands’ eyes lest they require the same astonishing level of skill from them.

Tobirama, meanwhile, seems to have finally regained his ability to act, if not speak, and proceeds to grab Madara by his collar and drag him into a wobbly stance, slapping a hand bathed in faint green glow against the Uchiha’s forehead.

"Get permanent brain damage for all I care.” Tobirama gives Madara a pretty hard shake. “Now will you stop fucking talking?”

"You don’t tell me what to do, Senju,” Madara grumbles, looking a bit steadier on his feet now even as his voice still sounds a bit shaky. “And how did I get here?”

Tobirama ignores him, directing one last glower at the excited crowd as he commands, “Don’t you dare speak a word of this to the Hokage,” before disappearing into thin air with Madaraーhis secret lover, something Konoha still can’t wrap its collective head aroundーin tow.

Granted, the younger Senju must have sensed his brother’s approach because the next second none other than Hashirama steps into the market with the usual wide grin on his face, flowers sprouting on each patch of ground he steps on. The crowd stills and grows silent but for a few moments as Tobirama’s order rings clear in their minds, and yet,

“What happened here?” Hashirama asks in childlike confusion.

In just a handful of moments, it proves too much of a temptation for Konoha prolific rumor mill to resist.

“Madara was doing what in front of my Otouto?!”

#madatobi #tobimada #madara uchiha #tobirama senju #humor #fanfic #lou writes #idiots in love #naruto

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Note

To your rant: AMEN.

(Wrote a part of this to Ace while back but they apparently didn't receive it but I think it needs to be said so)

Honestly at the moment it starts to feel like people request wrong on purpose because they're bored or something and want to irritate people or test if they could get their request across even though it’s breaking their rules... because suddenly everyone seem to get a lot of requests which are breaking the rules. Like whenever I have my spamming events, I get 101 requests which are smut, romantic requests for 13 year old characters whose actors are also 13 and also celebrity requests are common and like those three rules are broken over and over and over again and now everyone else seem to get requests which break their SAME FUCKING RULES all the time. Also the fact that some are like “when your requests are open again, could you write a fic like this?” LIKE NO, REQUESTS ARE CLOSED FOR A REASON, BECAUSE THE WRITER HAS SO MANY REQUESTS THAT THEY NEED TIME TO GO THROUGH THEM BEFORE OPENING THEM AGAIN, AND IT SHOULD BE COMMON SENSE :DDDDD It isn’t like you’re writing only when requests are open.

FYI, WRITERS ARE NOT GONNA ROLL A FUCKING GOLDEN GLITTER CARPET FOR YOU WHICH IS ENTITLING YOU TO REQUEST WHATEVER YOU WANT WHENEVER YOU WANT.

So people please, if you can read all those long stories or binge 50 smaller pieces from a writer at one sitting, you can take time to check out their rules at least if you're gonna request………………… and the same goes for all writers. We. Are. Not. Machines.

And if it won’t go to your thick heads, you can think about what you did and whose fault it is when writers are gone after losing motivation for writing all these fics for you and getting only shit on their faces in return. We don’t even get paid by money, we are paid by feedback, reblogs, you interacting with our writing and btw that's a cheap price for writing your requests. If you continue acting like we’re machines and thinking you can treat us however you want, writers will start dropping out. My motivation to write is finally returning and I'm slowly starting to get back to the rhythm but tbh I’m scared to come back properly because of all these people being rude and breaking rules all the time. Tumblr is becoming a super toxic place and I hate it and I start losing hope that the boat can be turned around, and also started to lose motivation again the next day after I came back even though nothing happened, I just started fearing rudely formatted requests coming at me again, or guilt tripping or people being asses in general. But prove me wrong if you have balls to do that. Turn that boat around. We can all do it together.

We're in a sealed room slowly filling with water, and we have to work together so we can pull the lever to open that one door. But it won't work even if 100 mice (writers + those few who support writers) are pushing one sleeping elephant (readers-only) forward to pull the lever so they wouldn't drown in that room. That elephant has to wake up and help the mice, only that way they can get forward.

Also the fact that people finally got triggered about the fact that I don't feel comfortable to write for HP/Fantastic Beasts for now for obvious reasons :DDDDDDDD I got another last night after I blocked the first one. I can't believe I have such toxic, childish and petty people following me, and same kinds of people are following everyone in this community. People who take us as granted.

I hope things will get better and people learn some manners eventually. Every creator deserves it.

Thank you, Jenni! I know you’ve had to deal with some seriously stupid trolls and people that shouldn’t be allowed on the internet.

Sometimes it does feel like a few trolls are requesting incorrectly on purpose, I was especially frustrated when I saw Lacey answering some requests that had me going like ‘seriously, people?’ And the fact that people disregard the same rules over and over again (especially on your case) just tells me that they care more about their request being written than your comfort, and that sucks. Those people think they’re entitled to our content forgetting we do this for free!

This part you wrote especially resonated with me, it’s so true:

I especially try real hard and reread my rules almost every day to make sure they’re short and concise, that I put bold and colors on the absolute most important stuff and people still don’t read correctly or just don’t care.

Like, today I got an ask saying ‘what’s a prompt’. Just that. No question mark, no hi, no nothing. First of all, you can read my rules and my posts to know what they are, I linked examples and you can literally search the tag. It feels like a troll tbh...

You’re absolutely right that Tumblr is becoming an awful place for content creators and it’s up to people to start being more respectful and supportive if they want to avoid Tumblr becoming empty. Content creators make this website, not just us writers but also artists and gif makers and we all deserve some love!

And don’t get me started on the HP/FBAWTFT/JKR bullshit, I really have to restrain myself not to reply ‘shut the fuck up anon’ on every single one of your asks. I myself am thinking about not writing for those fandoms anymore because JKR ruined the series for me and I don’t enjoy writing for it as much as I did, so I will probably remove them from my fandoms list. For now I’m on hiatus for those fandoms, so fight me, anons!

*sigh* I hate that whenever we try to establish boundaries people either disregard them or guilt us for them, it really shows that those awful people only care about their requests and nothing else. There’s people behind the blogs, with real lives and problems and emotions! I do hope that things get better myself, if not I might actually quit one day since I keep thinking about it, and I know and I’m not the only one.

#non anon ask #mutuals #<3 #long post #swanimagines #ask

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shijiujun · 4 years

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Anon Asks: Thanks! I was thinking of another hurt/comfort, but if you could turn it into fluff then I’m all for it! When LY asked QCS “which would you choose: pride or money” and they both chose pride... I wondered what would make LY choose QCS over pride, or have QCS choose LY. Granted I’m only on episode 15 but I’m totally fine with spoilers! Or if that’s a little much... maybe a little moment where LY can flaunt his own family credentials to save QCS (and BYN)?

HI ANON <3

So I did a quick thing and wrote your first prompt - I think you’ll probably see an example of your prompt in the show when Chusheng kneels in front of one of the gang bosses and slices his chest open all to protect Lu Yao because to him pride is a given thing, but Lu Yao, Youning and the Green Dragon Gang’s survival/safety are worth more to him than his pride for sure. Still, I did a sort of established relationship AU take on your prompt.

Second prompt here!

my heart keeps searching

Since getting together with Lu Yao, Chusheng has sworn off three things — Hiding his injuries from Lu Yao, going to the nightclub and brothel and finally, drinking.

“If I ever do any of those things again,” Chusheng declares to Lu Yao, “I’ll write an apology and reflection essay and read it out loud at the entrance to my office to the rest of the guys at the station.”

Read it in full below

Since getting together with Lu Yao, Chusheng has sworn off three things — Hiding his injuries from Lu Yao, going to the nightclub and brothel and finally, drinking without Lu Yao’s supervision.

This comes a week after they first have their first kiss and decide to be with each other, despite the possible opposition from Bai lao-ye and Lu Yao’s family. Even if their friends and the people they know turn on them for being in such an unconventional and ridiculous relationship, even if Chusheng may lose his job at the station, they are sure nothing is going to tear them apart. Not if they can help it.

Chusheng sits on an empty bed in the emergency room of the hospital, wincing as he firmly holds a cold compress over the left side of his torso. He’s here alone today, having snuck off early in the morning to get this treated before Lu Yao wakes up. His little boyfriend is afraid of blood and violence, and there is no need for him to bear witness to this.

After all, Chusheng is used to toughing it out. This is what Qiao Si-ye does — he is an example to his brothers, the brothers who rely on him, and how embarrassing would it be if he cannot shake off a simple injury like this?

Being one of the Eight Martial Arts Master in Shanghai is something he doesn’t mention much anymore. Now he is Inspector Qiao, and still Qiao Si-ye to most of the public. The titles don’t matter much to him, but the hard work he put in to earn them does. It’s proof that he hasn’t spent the last two decades in vain, that he has, above all odds, survived and lived well, even if the life he has chosen might seem unsavoury to some.

A good son to Bai lao-ye, a good brother and leader to his brothers, and a fair, just and competent inspector to the rest of the public. The last he knows he has because of Lu Yao’s brilliance. These are identities that are central to his very self.

Too many things have changed since he met Lu Yao in that alley that chilly morning, Lu Yao in his blue satin pyjamas and waving his hands around like an idiot. An adorable idiot. His idiot.

Chusheng supposes that makes him an idiot too for wanting to be with Lu Yao this much and honestly? He would do the same if he had a chance to go back and relive the past few months.

He would want Lu Yao always. In this life, in the next and in the one after, he wants to be with Lu Yao, no matter what.

And so when the door to the ward slams open, revealing a panting and livid Lu Yao, Chusheng knows he’s in trouble.

“… San Tu, what are you doing here?” he asks with a smile, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s so early, you should have slept in-“

“You left me in bed before even the sun was up,” snaps Lu Yao, stomping forward and looking Chusheng over. “I knew it! I knew you were hiding something from me yesterday when you returned home. What is it?”

He pries Chusheng’s hand, carrying the cold compress, away from his body and stares.

“San Tu, it’s alright. It’s just two bruised ribs, I swear. I didn’t want to wake you so I came here alone-“

“Bullshit! You were trying to hide this from me,” Lu Yao says, his eyes suddenly watering.

Chusheng blinks and his entire body stiffens at the sight of fresh tears in his boyfriend’s eyes. This is an unwelcomed surprise. Of course he knows what a crybaby and timid thing his Lu Yao is, but this is the first time he’s seen his tears come forth so easily, especially after they became certain of their feelings for each other.

His heart aches, and Chusheng panics.

“San Tu- Yao Yao, I’m sorry, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to-“

“You always do this!” Lu Yao sniffs, looking away to hide from Chusheng. “With Zhiqing-ge it was like this, with Hu laoda you were you like this too, you keep getting hurt and I’m always the last to know about it. Am I not your boyfriend? Does it mean so little to you?”

“Yao Yao, that’s not it. I swear,” Chusheng exhales heavily, reaching out for Lu Yao’s hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry, I really am. I… I promise, I won’t hide an injury from you again. I swear on my parents’ graves, Lu Yao-“

Lu Yao finally turns back to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown at the declaration. He knows what Chusheng’s parents mean to him. Biting at his lips, Lu Yao feels all the hurt and upset wash away slowly.

Crouching down, Lu Yao mumbles, “I’m your boyfriend. I like you so much, Lao Qiao. You know that right? So if you get hurt, I’m going to hurt too. And if you hide it from me, I’ll hurt even worse.”

Uncaring of the curious eyes staring at them from all corners of the room, Chusheng raises a hand and slowly cups Lu Yao’s jaw in his palm. His thumb gently caresses at Lu Yao’s cheekbone, marvelling at how beautiful he is, at how a brilliant, bright and wonderful person like Lu Yao likes him.

This is his most precious treasure, the one worth the most amongst the collection of all the expensive things he owns.

“Mnn,” he agrees, his lips curving. “I won’t do it again.”

Satisfied at that, Lu Yao lets the matter go. Instead, he checks with the nurse over Chusheng’s injuries, and glares when the nurse corrects him on his cracked, not bruised ribs. After listening to some brief instructions on what to do for Chusheng, Lu Yao swiftly bundles Chusheng up in his shirt and jacket, then ushers the man out of the hospital and into Chusheng’s car parked at the curb.

As they’re about to reach home, Lu Yao turns to Chusheng and asks, “What if you lie to me again?”

“San Tu. I’ve already sworn to you that-“

“Not only that!” Lu Yao realizes, putting a hand up. He begins to count, “Hiding your injuries from me, sneaking off to Chang San Tang and Bai Le Men when I’m not looking and hanging out with the pretty girls there… drinking! And not only those too, I mean I’m okay if you smoke occasionally and if you gamble and see your other friends-“

“If I ever hide my injuries from you again, go to those places and drink again,” Chusheng declares with determination, “I’ll write an apology and reflection essay and read it out loud at the entrance to my office to the guys at the station.”

That cuts Lu Yao’s rant off, and he stares with wide eyes at Chusheng, not quite believing that it is this easy.

“Really?”

Arriving home to Chusheng’s apartment just in time, Chusheng pulls up in front of the building and turns the car engine off before turning to look at Lu Yao. Without another word, he draws the taller man in across the seats, reaching for Lu Yao’s lips and kisses him softly.

“Since my baobei asked me so nicely,” Chusheng promises again, leaning back slightly and peering up at Lu Yao. “I’ve already given you everything, what’s a few more?”

Lu Yao’s answering grin and the way his eyes soften at what he said makes it all worth it.

===

Six weeks later

“Do I really have to do this?” asks Chusheng, looking up from his pile of papers, pen in hand. “Yao Yao-“

Lu Yao puts up one hand, silencing him. “You were the one who set the punishment, Lao Qiao. How many more words do you have to go?”

The detective is lounging on the couch, Chusheng in his line of vision standing outside of his office. He looks plenty awkward there and he’s already written nine pages, which means he’s got one more to go. No matter how many times Chusheng turns around to look at Lu Yao, his boyfriend resolutely does not return his gaze as he focuses on flipping page after page of his book languidly.

Sighing softly, Chusheng continues to write.

Lu Yao is right. He did set the punishment after all, and it was his fault for hitting all three of Lu Yao’s pet peeves. To be fair, he was at Chang San Tang getting a lead on their current case, and he was going to tell Lu Yao when he returned home that night. The woman he was speaking to, a new addition to the brothel, insisted on him drinking before she would tell him what he needed to know. After that, like a full stroke of bad luck, who knew that a fight would break out in the brothel between three men and two women that escalated in a blink of an eye, and how could Chusheng not step in to help?

That’s how he ended up in the hospital in the middle of the night with a cut on his arm and Lu Yao storming in again barely ten minutes later, before Chusheng even had the chance to give him a call.

When he’s done with the last page, he looks at Lu Yao again, clearing his throat.

“Yao Yao, I’m done, can I go in and read it to you-“

“Nope, you said you’d read it on the steps of your office to your brothers and everyone else!”

Chusheng sighs, biting at his lips as he considers this. How embarrassing would this be, to say that he was wrong and do it in front of the boys at the station? The main doors to the station are wide open as well, so anyone walking past can simply step in and watch.

Not only that, but his relationship with Lu Yao has not been made public yet, not intentionally as Chusheng doesn’t hide how much he loves to touch and look at Lu Yao even at the station, but they haven’t made an official announcement.

He’s Qiao Si-ye, one of the Eight Martial Arts Masters in Shanghai, and how will he look anyone in the eye again after this?

He remembered asking Lu Yao if he would choose pride over money, and they’d both chosen pride then, because having pride was more important than anything else in the world for men like them. Lu Yao and Chusheng would rather face poverty and struggle with money, and they have, albeit in different degrees, all to protect their pride.

However, between pride, face, honour… what was all of that in front of Lu Yao?

If Chusheng had to make a choice between embarrassing himself, losing face and making Lu Yao happy, he would choose Lu Yao, everytime.

Opening his mouth, Chusheng begins reading his apology essay, starting off with how sorry he is for breaking his promises to Lu Yao.

Everyone, including Ah Dou and Salim, stop where they are with wide, horrified eyes as they look up at their almighty inspector apologizing. In public. Using such humble, mushy words.

This is not only an apology essay.

It’s a love letter all in one.

Ah Dou walks away stiffly, unblinking as he tries to process this.

As Chusheng moves on to the third page, to the part where he is halfway through eulogizing the merits of having Lu Yao as his loving, caring boyfriend and how sorry he is to have wronged him, he feels a sharp tug on his hand and stumbles, all the way back inside his office. The doors shut loudly behind him and the ensuing silence is deafening in everyone’s ears.

“I never signed up for this,” Salim mumbles forlornly after a moment, walking away with a stack of documents that he was intending to bring up to the inspector’s office for signing.

His comment breaks the trance that has collectively settled over everyone in the vicinity within earshot of Inspector Qiao’s speech.

“Was that Si-ge?! Was that actually him?!”

“What the fuck was he saying?”

“My god, he is so whipped for Detective Lu, I told you there was something going on between them both! Lin Qing, you owe me a silver coin!”

===

Behind closed doors, Lu Yao has Chusheng pressed hard against the walls, kissing him with fervour, much to the Chusheng’s pleasant surprise.

“All your men heard you,” Lu Yao says breathily, pulling away. “Everyone on the streets could probably hear you.”

Chusheng laughs, ducking his head downwards for another kiss, “Didn’t you want me to read it loudly? I’m not done yet. I did write ten pages full after all. Aren’t you interested to hear what I wrote?”

If Lu Yao wasn’t sure before, he’s definitely certain now.

He loves this man. He loves him to bits, every breath he takes is full of one Qiao Chusheng and Lu Yao doesn’t regret it one bit.

In a rare instance of courage and boldness, Lu Yao reaches out to the side and locks the door, before dragging Chusheng with him in the direction of the couch.

“You can whisper the rest of it in my ear,” he grins.

#mriad #my roommate is a detective #民国奇探 #chuyao #qiao chusheng #lu yao #fic prompt #hope this is okay!#probably a little different than you were expecting it #but you'll see what i mean in the later eps #XD

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