#like can you IMAGINE what tommy would be without his dick | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nickeverdeen · 10 months ago

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Can I ask for an imagine since there's almost none here pls?🙏🏻

So, in this one, gn!reader has beefs with their dad because he is very rude to them and a very mentally unstable man. Usually they spend a lot of time with joel because they like his company a lot and he's so good to them, they kind of wishes he was their dad. One time, they go to joel's house very sad, saying something happened home. Joel is not surprised, he knows the dick of a father this kid has. But now is different, reader says their father threatened them, and now joel knows the shit is getting real here. He asks, just by confirmation, what reader wanted to change the situation. Reader says all they wanted was their dad out of their life so they could have peace in jackson. Joel remembers he has patrol next morning with this man, and now he knows he has to do...something about it. Kiddo isn't asking much, after all.

Home, sweet home | Joel Miller x gn!kid!reader

Warnings: Cussing, neglectation, abuse, mentions of cigarettes, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood

Summary: You’re seeking support from Joel, whom you view as a father figure, after your mentally unstable father threatens you. Joel decides to take action during his patrol with your father to ensure your safety and peace in Jackson

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The tension in the air was palpable as you entered your father's house, the familiar scent of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey assaulting your senses. You knew what awaited you – another confrontation, another argument with the man who was supposed to be your dad.

Your relationship with your father had always been strained, marred by years of bitter arguments and hurtful words. You longed for a father who would offer guidance and support, someone like Joel.

But as you stepped into the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere shifted from tense to volatile. Your father's eyes bore into you with a mixture of anger and resentment, his lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. "Where the hell have you been?" Your father growled, his voice dripping with contempt.

Your heart sank as you braced yourself for yet another confrontation. You had spent the night at Joel’s house, seeking refuge from the toxic environment of your father’s home.

“I was out” you replied tersely, your voice tinged with defiance

Your father's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "You think you can just come and go as you please? You think you can disrespect me like that? Why can’t you be more like Tommy or Maria? They’re a responsible and useful people who unlike you don’t waste the oxygen on this Earth. You’re nothing, but a waste of time and energy!" You felt a surge of frustration and fear coursing through you as you locked eyes with your father. "Then why the fuck did you even have me, you asshole?!" you shot back, your voice rising in anger. Without warning, your father lunged forward, his hand snaking out to grab a nearby glass. Your heart pounded in your chest as you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

"You ungrateful little brat" your father spat, his voice laced with venom. "You think you can talk back to me? You think you can defy me in my own fucking house?" Your pulse quickened as your father's anger escalated, the air thick with tension and fear. You knew you had pushed him too far, that your words had ignited a firestorm of rage. With a sudden, violent motion, your father hurled the glass against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. You flinched instinctively, your heart racing as you stared at the shattered remnants of your father's anger.

"Get the fuck out, you worthless piece of shit!" their father growled, his voice low and menacing. "Get out before I’ll beat the shit out of you, you stupid ass fuck!" Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at your father, your mind reeling with a mixture of fear and disbelief. You knew you had to leave, to escape the toxic environment of your father's house before it consumed you whole.

Without a word, you quickly got up and fled from the house, your heart heavy with sorrow and regret. You knew you could never change your father, could never mend the broken relationship that lay shattered at your feet.

As you made your way to Joel’s house, a heavy weight settled in your chest, dragging you down with each step. The events of the evening replayed in your mind like a broken record, the echoes of your father’s anger still ringing in your ears.

When you finally reached Joel’s doorstep, your heart felt heavy with sorrow and despair. You knew you could always count on Joel for comfort and support, but tonight, your burden felt too heavy to bear alone. Joel opened the door, his expression softening as he took in the sight of your tear-stained face. Without a word, he stepped aside, silently inviting you inside.

You stepped into the warmth of Joel’s house, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and leather enveloping you like a comforting embrace. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as tears threatened to spill over.

Joel sat down beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions raging inside your heart. He didn’t need to ask what had happened – he could see the pain etched in every line of your face.

“Hey kid,” Joel said gently, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “You wanna talk about it?” You shook your head, unable to find the words to articulate the turmoil churning inside you. All you could think about was the look of hatred in your father’s eyes, the sharp sting of his words cutting you to the core.

Joel didn’t press for answers, sensing that you needed time to process your emotions. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity and support before wrapping you in a blanket and getting you a hot cocoa.

For hours, you both sat in silence, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire burning in the hearth. You found solace in Joel’s presence, his steady presence a comforting reminder that you were not alone in your pain so you decided to bring him into what happened, telling him about the glass accident, hurtful words and the threatening from your father. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air as Joel listened, his jaw clenched with simmering anger. He had known that your father was trouble, the whole town did, but the gravity of the situation hit him like a punch to the gut

“So, what do you want to do about it?” Joel asked, his voice low and measured. He had to tread carefully – he didn’t want to scare you off with talk of your father, but he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing either, you hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands folded in your lap. “I just… I want him out of my life,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to feel safe, Joel.” The raw vulnerability in your voice tugged at Joel’s heartstrings, igniting a fierce protectiveness deep within him. He wanted nothing more than to make things right for you, to rid your life of the toxic influence of your father once and for all.

As the night wore on, your exhaustion finally caught up with you, your eyes growing heavy with sleep. With a gentle nudge, Joel led you to the guest room, tucking you in with a warm blanket and a soft pillow. “Get some rest, kid,” Joel murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby, but his mind was already running wild as he remembered that tommorow morning he has a patrol with this shit called your ‘father’ and Joel knows damn well that he’ll do anything to protect his family, even if you’re not blood related, he doesn’t give a fuck he’ll protect you and make sure you won’t have to go through this hell again. You are his family since the first day of when Ellie brought you here when you were younger and he saw how your father behaves towards you, he already felt protective of you back then and now with that old man threatening you? Hell nah, the least he’ll do is have a conversation with him.

You drifted off to sleep, your dreams haunted by memories of your father’s anger and your own sense of helplessness. But in the warmth and safety of Joel’s house, you found sanctuary from the storm raging outside. “I’ll make sure he never hurts you again.” Joel whispered knowing you’re asleep as he gave you a small fatherly kiss on the cheek.

The next morning, Joel’s footsteps echoed through the quiet streets of Jackson as he made his way to the rendezvous point for his patrol with your father. His mind raced with thoughts of what he was about to do, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders.

As he approached the designated meeting spot, your father came into view, his presence casting a dark shadow over the sunny morning. Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, a surge of anger coursing through his veins as he remembered the fear in your eyes. “Morning” your father greeted him with a sneer, his tone dripping with contempt. “Ready to patrol, old man?” Joel forced a tight smile, his stomach churning with revulsion at the sight of the man standing before him. “Yeah, let’s get this over with,” he replied through gritted teeth.

For hours, they walked the perimeter of Jackson in silence, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Your father made small talk, but Joel barely registered his words, his mind consumed with other thoughts.

Finally, as they reached the outskirts of town, Joel’s patience reached its breaking point. He turned to face your father, his expression steely with determination. “We need to talk,” Joel said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. Your father raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from amusement to suspicion. “What’s this about, old man?” he asked, his tone tinged with arrogance. Joel took a step forward, his gaze boring into your father with unwavering intensity. “You need to leave,” he said firmly. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

Your father scoffed, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “And who’s gonna make me, huh? Are you trying to scare me away ‘cause that bitch of mine told you to? They’re mine property, old man. I get to do whatever I want with them” he taunted, taking a step closer to Joel. “Whatever I want” he repeated.

Without hesitation, Joel lunged forward, his fist connecting with your father’s jaw with a satisfying thud. The force of the blow sent your father stumbling backwards, his eyes widening in shock. Joel despite being older is advanced at fighting, his movements fluid and controlled as he unleashed a flurry of punches, each one landing with deadly accuracy. Your father fought back, but Joel was relentless, his rage fueling his every move.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your father lay crumpled on the ground, blood oozing from a split lip and more blood covering his face. Joel stood over him, his chest heaving with exertion as he glared down at the man who had terrorized you for far too long. “You’re done here,” Joel growled, his voice low and menacing. “You hear me? If I ever see you near Y/N again, I won’t hold back. Not again” With that, Joel kicked him in the stomach and walked away, leaving your father lying battered and broken on the ground. As he made his way back to Jackson, Joel felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him – he had done what needed to be done to protect the ones he cared about.

As dawn broke on a new day, you awoke to the sound of birdsong filtering through the window. You rose from bed, your heart heavy with the weight of the previous night’s events unaware that Joel made sure this won’t ever happen again.

But as you made your way to the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of Joel’s quiet humming greeted you like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of Joel’s presence filling you with a sense of hope and renewal.

“Morning, kid,” Joel greeted you with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection. “You sleep okay?” You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, thanks to you,” you replied softly, your voice filled with gratitude as you saw a letter that Tommy and Maria signed that gives Joel the right to legally take you under his wing if you’d want to.

Joel poured you a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the air with warmth and comfort. As you sat down at the kitchen table, you felt a sense of peace settling over you like a blanket. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your makeshift family, you knew that you would find the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And with Joel by your side, you knew you would never have to face them alone.

#request #imagine #tlou #tlou2 #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou game #the last of us 1 #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us x y/n #joel miller #joel miller tlou

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sandwichesandbitches · 2 months ago

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Saw @userautumn 's posts about buck and eddie getting together but cheating on each other with tommy and lost my mind a little-

(spoilery content warning in pink text at top of the fic under the readmore-if wanted)

Eddie and Tommy are on a phone call, that continues to a video call when Buck and Eddie are about to have sex. Buck is not aware of this

Eddie doesn’t wait for a greeting, as soon as the call connects-“You had sex with Buck”

He’s not expecting his voice to come out quite that delighted. And by the beat of silence coming from the other end of the phone, neither was Tommy.

“I did”

Fuck. Eddie’s hard. It’s crazy, the thought should drove him to jealousy, anger (at Buck or Tommy, at himself he’s not sure.) He should hate that Buck slept with someone else, he should hate that it wasn’t him. But he doesn’t. He’s hard and he wants to know everything.

“What was he like?”

Tommy’s stunned “What” comes out in a gasp.

“Was he desperate? Needy? Our first time, he was so pliant and quiet, like he was holding back you know?” Eddie sounds almost frantic to his own ears. He feels frantic. “But since then, he’s been more himself. Or I think he has. More demanding. But I know the way I am with him is different to how I was with you”

With Tommy, Eddie was the pliant one. Going where he was put, taking what he was given. Tommy could have done anything and he would have accepted it. Gratefully.

Tommy gulps so loud that it comes through clearly over the line. But he doesn’t hang up, he starts talking

“Yeah, he’s demanding with me too. And he was definitely needy. Had to hold him against the wall and jerk him off just to get him calm enough to get to bed” Eddie grips his dick through his pants, so grateful that Tommy is willing to follow this with him.

“Yeah, he loves when I hold him down. Doesn’t stop him though. What else?” Eddie’s breathless.

But so is Tommy

“You just gotta be firmer with him. Don’t be afraid to spank him when he needs it.”

Eddie’s so turned on he’s going to lose his mind.

He’s never bothered when Buck doesn’t stay where he puts him, enjoys his restless wriggling and squirming. And he’s not going to spank Buck, it’s not his thing.

But Tommy spanking Buck? (spanking Eddie) God he hopes he needed one so he can see the marks of it. He doesn’t quite push the question out before Tommy continues

“Saw your marks on him, drove me crazy thinking about what you were doing when you put them there. Wanted to know what ones he put on you” Eddie makes his way through the house to his bedroom as Tommy talks. Buck has shut the door to the bathroom, but he can hear the shower running.

“I think I left a few where you didn’t, couldn’t stop myself. Have you never eaten him out? You find the best places to leave them when you do”

He keeps one eye on the closed door as he quickly sheds his jeans and starts unbuttoning his shirt “Haven’t done that yet, I’ll make sure I do though, i want to see. Make sure they don’t fade.”

He hears Tommy let out a muffled curse and a low hiss. He’s probably got his hand on his cock Eddie thinks dizzily. He closes his eyes to imagine it. Probably going slow, easing up and down, maybe just cupping it in one large palm.

Depending on how many times Buck wanted it, he might be too oversensitive to do much.

Eddie has to sit down. His cock is leaking in his underwear and he’s suddenly genuinely worried he might come without touching himself, just from hearing Tommy, from the thrill of Buck just one door away. He squeezes himself tightly through the material.

He has plans that he is not going to let his cock ruin.

“How many times?” Eddie doesn’t bother to clarify any further. He knows Tommy is going to give him what he needs.

“Once against the wall, then I got him in bed, ate him out, fingered him a little. He didn’t come from that, almost though, said he wanted me in him when he came again.” Tommy lets out a quiet gasping sound and Eddie knows that he’s jerking himself now, if he strains he can just about hear the sound of it. “he rode me, we both came, then I put him on his back, ate my come out of him and fed it to him.” It’s Eddies turn to get his hand on himself and let out a hissing breath. Compared to the heat of his cock, his hand feels freezing cold

“He humped my leg when I was kissing him, and he came again”

Eddie can imagine it clearly.

(He can see himself in the same position- pinned in the middle of sparing. On his back. Tommy’s bulk over him. The fleeting touch of a hard cock against his, the way he spread his legs, laid himself out. Bringing his hips up to rut against whatever part of Tommy he could reach, until Tommy pulled away, left him dizzy with need. And then flipped him onto his front, pulled his shorts down and took).

Eddie forces his mind back to Buck.

The first time, where Buck went where Eddie put him staring at Eddie in disbelief that it was even happening, content to limit himself to one (admittedly intense) orgasm before settling down to sleep. Back plastered to Eddies front, despite his cock perking back up as Eddie had cleaned him up, dark eyes following his naked form as he moved around the room getting ready for bed.

To every time after, where he’s been a wriggling needy fountain of come and orgasms. Not worried if Eddie needs time to recover (or a few times count himself out for the night) content to rub against an offered body part gasping and clinging, or happily putting on a show if he thinks Eddie just needs some incentive to get back in the game.

The incentives have always worked so far.

He’s jerked out of his memories (of Buck and of Tommy) by the breathless sound of Tommy’s voice as he continues “then he practically choked himself on my cock”

Eddie burns with envy. He hasn’t gotten that chance yet. He mentally tires to replace the sense memory of Buck’s cock in his mouth with Tommy’s. Buck’s a little longer, Tommy’s a little thicker. He would stretch his mouth wider, he’d feel the sting of it. Tommy would be more purposeful. Buck can be content to be held down, to let Eddie work him over however he wants.

Tommy. Tommy would not be. Tommy would just take. He knows it. The same way he took him when-

The shower shuts off.

Eddie takes a centering breath before speaking quickly and quietly into the phone, hoping that Tommy will go along with this. “Buck’s about to get out of the shower” he hears Tommy’s heaving breaths, but he doesn’t even try to interrupt so Eddie barrels on. “mute your phone and I’ll put you on speaker”

Tommy’s voice is rough, like it’s almost being pulled out of him against his will

“or you could put me on a video call”

There’s almost complete silence after Tommy says that. Like he’s holding his breath. Eddie certainly is. There’s a faint ringing in his ears, he thinks his hands are shaking. His cock is practically leaping in his underwear at the thought.

He’s torn. What he suggested is wrong, a violation of Buck. A video call would be worse, surely.

Much hotter.

Eddie knows Buck. He knows if they sat down and talked about this, about filming themselves, being watched, he would leap at the chance. He used to have sex in the engine, in the middle of the day. He’d be into this.

Eddie gulps.

He’d say yes even if he wasn’t if he thought it was something Eddie needed to stay interested.

A clatter and a muttered curse from the bathroom pulls Eddie back to himself, and he acts without thinking, without allowing himself to think. He pulls his phone from his ear and switches to video call, pressing the speaker icon at the same time. He groans weakly when its immediately accepted and Tommy has the camera pointed down his body, showing his hand holding his cock against his abs, thumb rubbing slow circles against the glistening head.

Eddie quickly removes his underwear, hissing as the fabric rubs against his cock.

He’s going to have to calm down if he wants this to work.

He switches the camera round, away from the view of the ceiling and a sliver of his bright red sweaty forehead, to his own cock. He wraps his hand around the base and squeezes tightly to bring himself from the edge and he hears a small empathetic ‘fuck’ from the phones speakers as Tommy runs his hand up the length of his cock, fist engulfing the head, before stroking back down, gripping the base, needing to calm down as much as Eddie does.

He whips his head towards the bathroom as he hears Buck moving around. He can almost see him, intimately in tune with his bathroom rituals. He’ll have finished drying himself off, putting his clothes in the laundry basket, wiping the shower and the mirror down. Eddie might get more time then he usually would. Buck will almost certainly be looking over himself. Pressing on marks, thinking about how he got them.

Eddie’s ended up with Buck backing him against the sink to rut against him after particularity enthusiastic rounds that have left marks visible in the immediate aftermath. And based on the red of beard burn on Buck’s neck, there will be plenty for him to examine. He is almost definitely leaving the bathroom hard, no matter how much guilt he holds right now, and Eddie is not planning on letting him linger in it.

He quickly props his phone on the top of the dresser opposite the bed, screen facing the wall, and he moves some things around until it stands when he lets go. He shifts to the side of the dresser, if he’s done it right, the bed should be in full view.

“Can you see?” he whispers so quietly, he’s almost sure Tommy won’t hear him but the answering yes comes, just as quiet “ok, mute yourself” he doesn’t hear anything back, he just has to trust this will work.

He all but throws himself to sit at the end of the bed. Leaning back on one hand but angling his body to wards the bathroom door, still in full view of the camera. He brings his other hand up to rub at the tip of his cock, putting himself on display as Buck exits the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, held shut just by his fist and. Yeah. Just as Eddie suspected, his cock is very clearly hard.

Buck’s squeezing his curls with another towel, frowning down at the floor in thought. Unknowingly putting himself on perfect display for his boyfriend. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy for Tommy that he’s standing outside of the cameras view.

He hasn’t seen Eddie yet. This is the last chance to stop what’s happening. He could do any number of things, push Buck back into the bathroom, against the wall or door, somewhere out of sight. Tommy would end the call, never talk about it again.

(Eddie could tell Buck he knows, could confess his own sins. They could cut Tommy out of their lives, he wouldn’t fight them).

His heart clenches.

Buck twists his body to throw the towel he was using on his hair back into the bathroom and then moves further into the bedroom, looking up. Eddie smiles when Buck stutters to a stop upon seeing him, giving him a very obvious appreciative up and down. Eddie gives him one right back taking a deep breath-

“You should drop the towel”

Buck drops the towel

#my fic #buddietommy #911 #cheating fic

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allzelemonz · 2 years ago

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Rat meets Rat II: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, O’Driscoll reader, sexual manipulation, finger sucking, anal fingering, anal sex, overstimulation Summary: It’s time to pay up for that deal you made with Micah to get a place in the Van der Linde gang. Part 1, Part 2

Micah keeps his end of the deal. He takes you back and convinces Dutch you could be useful. You’re under supervision, still without your guns, but you’re alive. Turns out that Dutch finds Tommy’s location very useful and he sends a couple of his boys out to see him. The women of the camp dictate your jobs for the day and you end up doing laundry and helping their cook until Micah pulls you away after the sun sets.

He leads you into the trees surrounding camp, silent as he winds through them. Your mouth is dry, both from a lack of water and nerves. Micah is a good looking man but you have no idea what he’s like or what exactly he’ll ask of you. He’s held up his end of the deal, you have to hold up yours. Going this deep into the woods, so far away from his allies, makes it tempting to try and take his guns. Maybe you could run out West, away from all of this gang nonsense.

“Come ‘ere, O’Driscoll.”

Micah’s words make your mind return to the present and meet his eyes. He stands by a large tree, hands resting on his gun belt. The moonlight shines at him, showing his face in a glowing contrast to the surrounding shadows. He has a scar on his chin that you never noticed before. Like a beckoning force guides you, you follow his order. He grabs at the collar of your shirt and backs you into the large tree.

“Open.” He mutters, his thumb pressing at your lips.

You comply and he shifts his hand to press a few fingers into your mouth. He watches intently as you cover them in spit, his other hand slowly unfastening your pants. The look in his eyes makes your chest tighten, it’s intense and cutting. He pushes your pants down, letting them fall to your ankles as he takes back his hand. No time is wasted as he pushes one finger inside of you and you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from making noise. Micah quickly follows with the other slicked fingers and stretches you out. Your knees go a little weak, you can’t help it when you stumble and lean on him. He lets you, spreading his fingers in a way that forces a sound out before you can stop it.

“Like that, do ya, O’Driscoll?” Micah mutters, close to your ear.

Your response is cut before it forms as he starts a sudden fast pace, fucking you with his fingers and making it hard to stand. Your hand grabs his arm for stability as his low chuckle fills your ear. His nails aren’t trimmed, causing a slight pain as he moves so quickly inside of you, but the movement feels too good to care about that.

“Ain’t ya glad ya ratted, cowboy?” He mutters, his free hand grabbing your waist to help you stay standing.

You hum in response, the most enthusiastic yes you can muster with the way his fingers are making you feel. A million things went through your mind when you agreed to this, but you never thought it would feel this good. Something so basic, you can’t help but imagine what’s to come. He’s taking his time, letting you enjoy something instead of just pushing you against the tree or down to your knees.

His hand moves around your dick, spreading the precum and pumping you at the same pace his fingers fuck you. You’re coming entirely undone at the hands of a Van der Linde. He hasn’t even put much of an effort in and you’re so close. You don’t have the words to warn him as you drop your head against his shoulder and release over his hand. His fingers don’t stop, returning to stretching you as his other hand squeezes you for every drop you’ll give. You can barely stand when you’re done and Micah pushes your back flat against the tree. His fingers withdraw from your sensitive muscles as he lifts your legs around his waist. You don’t remember him unfastening his pants, but the feeling of him teasing at your hole is unmistakable.

“Ya know my name, cowboy?” He asks, a hand wiping sweat from your forehead.

You nod softly, still a little dizzy.

“Use it.”

He pushes into you and the oversensitive muscle shoots pain and pleasure all over you. Your hands grip at his jacket as you’re pressed solidly into the tree, your legs clinging to him for dear life. He settles, fully encased around your sensitive flesh.

“Micah…” You breathe, forcing your mouth to form the syllables despite your distinct lack of breath.

“Good boy.” He whispers, almost gently, as he pulls your head to rest against his shoulder.

His hands move to your waist for more control as he starts his thrusts. Slow at first as he basks in how tightly your hands grip at his jacket and the quick breaths he feels against his neck. You’ve gotten hard again, the rough feeling from your sensitivity making it come on much faster than you expected. When Micah picks up his pace your dick rubs against his shirt in a delightful way. His rough thrusts make you bite your lip to hold in the pathetic noise you feel building. His fingers are nothing compared to his dick, especially with the urgency he has in fucking you. Fast, full thrusts against your overly stimulated walls make you hardly notice when he starts pumping your dick again.

“Micah…” You moan as your fingers scratch at the leather of his jacket. “Fuck, Micah!”

You release over his hand again as he continues to fuck you, a low chuckle filling your ears.

“Fuck, O’Driscoll.” He grunts as he thrusts again, hitting a sensitive spot and making you gasp. “Fuck, yer better than I thought.”

You can barely feel him anymore, a numbness coming over your sensitive muscles, but it’s clear when he releases. His fingers grip tight at your hips and his head leans against yours as his thrusts slow. His breathing is heavy, more than yours, so he presses you against the tree and sits for a minute as you both catch your breath. It hurts when he finally pulls out and you hide yourself wincing until he steps back to put himself away. Your knees are weak and you have to rely on the tree for support. Everything hurts and feels so painfully good at the same time. Then your legs nearly give out and Micah has to catch you, surprising you that he bothers. He leans you back against the tree and picks up your pants for you, fastening them again.

“Yer a mess, O’Driscoll.” He mutters, his hands lingering on your waistband. “Damn pretty mess.”

His eyes look over your disheveled state. The drying release that paints both of your shirts, the sweat covering your skin. There’s a twinkle in his cold eyes as his thumb strokes the skin under your shirt.

A smile comes over your face. “Better than you thought, huh?”

“Watch yer mouth, O’Driscoll.” He snaps, eyes cutting back to cold as he glares at you.

You bow your head a bit, looking up at him with as much of sweet eyes as you can muster. His hand grabs your jaw, tilting your head back up. You keep the sweet look on your face, wanting to stay on this good side of him rather than the side that threatens you with gelding. His thumb drags slowly over your bottom lip, his eyes watching closely as it moves under his touch. Then he pulls his hands away and steps back, leaving you a little colder than you’d like.

“Fuck off, O’Driscoll.” He nods towards camp. “Keep this ta yerself.”

You move slowly, testing if your shaking legs can handle your weight. You stumble when you walk, but you manage it with the occasional tree as support. Micah really isn’t so bad an option.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #micah bell #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #micah bell x reader #micah bell x male reader #x reader #x male reader

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ultimateplaylistmaker · 7 months ago

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I just want to say, it's a bit disheartening to see how you are interpreting Techno's character but I respect it.

Can I just ask you hold off on it for a week? It's his death anniversary on the 5th and it hurts to see a version of him being talked about that way

/nm

Technoblade was playing a character on the dream smp, and that all I've done is say that kokichi would not like THE CHARACTER for canonical things he has done, kokichi who hates violence, would not like the man going "violence is the only universal language" I didn't even say on the most recent post whether he was right or wrong about this, just that he would, while I have made it known I think dsmp techno's character is a villainous character before, that was over a month ago

I love techno too! i loved his content, I nearly cried when tommy and technodad posted that video of old techno content! I own the techno tribute hoodie! Techno the person seemed to be absolutely amazing kind person, and the world is less for his loss. However, as Techno was an english major who liked stories of pyrrhic heroes, I do not think he would be insulted or offended by people coming to their own conclusions on his character. Even if that conclusion "wow, what a dick" because that says nothing on him as a person, and is in fact a part of the process of creation and sharing stories.

I understand his death is still something that impacts a lot of people, and im sorry if it hurts you, but the truth of the matter is that character techno and person techno arent the same thing, and people are allowed to critique or analyze character techno without it being seen as a slight against person techno.

If any of the stories about Techno's future plans are to be believed, (love you cyberknife), I think he'd think it's funny to imagine an anime character going "what a weirdo" at his dsmp character. He'd just be like "YOOOO FREE PUBLICITY WITH THE ANIME WEIRDO CROWD SUBSCRIBE TO TECHNOBLADEEEEE."

#this isnt even my mcyt blog why am I back in the 'dsmp techno is kind of a bad person' trenches what is this 2020 #anon chaos

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starry-eyed-extraterrestrial · 10 months ago

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I was asking what omegaverse classification every member of mötley crüe fell under and then @anaalnathrakhs said that no matter what classification they are, they're always interesting and I'm inclined to agree, so here's a comprehensive list of what I think is interesting about the guys falling under each dynamic.

Alpha Vince - This just makes sense, Vince is cocky and sure of himself with an overly masculine energy. He covers up insecurities with fake hubris and gets aggressive whenever provoked in any way, I mean he literally challenged Axl Rose to a full on fist fight on live television, tell me that isn't alpha behaviour. Also being an alpha gives Vince an excuse to be overly sexual with no consequences, because the media (at least in omegaverse 80s)is always like “oh he's an alpha he can't help it, they're innately sexual beings, if you don't let alpha's be alphas your depriving them of their nature” basically the media just enables him to fuck more as an alpha, without qeustion.

Omega Vince - This also makes sense somehow. Male omegas are rare and Vince loves being the centre of attention and by being an omega he would definitely stand out, which he loves. However Vince being a man whore would be more frowned upon in this context as “he's an omega, he should be saving himself for his alpha one day!” However I can't decide if this sentiment would make Vince more secretive about his slutiness or far more vocal about it (I'm leaning towards the latter). However I don't think that Omega Vince would feel as confident in his own skin as Alpha or beta Vince would, as being called a used up slut by the media kinda goes to his head and makes him far less innerly confident, but on the outside he's more confident than ever. Don't think Vince would use any supprecents or scent blockers of any kind, all omega natural for him.

Beta Vince - Now this is the most interesting Vince dynamic to write I think. Because in a world where alpha's are important and omegas are held on top of a pedestal, betas are just kinda…there and this would drive Vince absolutely insane. Like totally bonkers. Just imagine him going twice as hard as any of his alpha/omega singer friends, desperately trying to stand out, wanting all the praise and reverence his differently classified friends would get and successfully at that. Vince's ego would be huge and small, he would be calm and insane, graceful yet feral. Beta Vince my beloved juxtaposition friend. (I am deranged, I never see anyone write beta Vince and it is clearly the most interesting of all options) Like he would try to pick more fights then alpha Vince just to prove that he is still worthwhile, even though his classification is not worthwhile.

Alpha Tommy - Tommy does strictly think with his dick, so this checks out. Similar to alpha Vince I think Tommy would use the gize of being an alpha to be an absolute tool. The one dangerous thing about alpha Tommy though is that he falls in love so quickly and he would totally claim the first girlfriend he ever had and then regret it and then just be stuck bonded to a random girl he dated once like…forever 💀

Omega Tommy - Gets claimed by the first alpha who he falls for and regrets it. Omega Tommy would never take any heat supplements and sees his heat as a mini fuck vacation. If Tommy can avoid getting claimed by every person he falls into bed with and manages to not get knocked up, I think he'd really enjoy being an omega. He doesn't have any of the innate omegan shame that I think all the other guys would have as omegas.

Beta Tommy - This would just be Tommy normally, but with the added bonus of not being educated on dynamics really because he's a beta and therefore didn't think it was important for him to pay attention in health class, so like if one of the guys where to go into heat at an inconvenient time he'd just be like ??? “Can't you like…hold it in??”

Alpha Nikki - With him being the band leader low key him being an alpha makes sense to me in the sense that Nikki is in control of a lot of Mötley's output as a band music and press wise. He's a control freak and being an alpha would go well for him since he'd have an excuse to be bossy all the time, with the added effect of people actually listening to him. Nikki would love being an alpha I'm sure, that being said, I don't think this is the best fit for him personally. Uses being an alpha as an excuse to be feral.

Omega Nikki - this is the guy that has the most omega shame of all the guys I think. Like he'd take an insane amount of supprecents and scent blockers and stuff. He wouldn't trust anyone to help him through his heats, and I think for the longest time he wouldn't tell the band, not until he really needed to at least. Nikki hates being out of control and looked down upon. Being an omega would be really hard on his already bad self image in the 80s.

Beta Nikki - Just normal Nikki, he would not understand other classifications needs but he respects them and tries to accommodate them as much as he can without sacrificing his own comfort.

Alpha Mick - Mick is naturally an alpha I think. A very calming dominating presence in a way that doesn't overwhelm a lot of people like the other guys as alpha's would. He's just a very safe feeling. Mick is good Alpha material in my mind. I do think he'd have trouble asserting himself if there are multiple alpha's in a room though, Mick hates confrontation and so he tries to stay out of it as much as possible.

Omega Mick - Now this is an interesting thought, Mick as an omega is (like beta Vince) one of those juxtapositions that would just be fascinating because usually omegas are soft around the edges, submissive and traditionally more and feminine and here comes omega Mick, dominant, rough and crass. A lot of alpha's who are interested in him think he's playing hard to get but he is just genuinely not interested. He wouldn't be omega Nikki levels of insane about blockers but I think he'd wear a cologne that covered his scent up. I also think growing up as an omega would have made Mick even more overly passive, which I didn't think was possible.Anyway, live, laugh and love this idea.

Beta Mick - Makes the most sense in my opinion. Mick is pretty much the best person in the band to give this classification to. He himself is a true neutral in every situation and he can bring the balance like this (not that he can't in other dynamics, it just is a betas professional to keep the peace between the other two dynamics). Beta Mick makes alot of sense and is very accurate to who he is as a person. Also he'd hate to get heats and ruts, so really this pick would be for the best.

Okay, I'm tired now going to bed, but drop your thoughts on me in the comments or just write Starry your a cunt in my inbox with your own opinions on this matter along with it , I'd love to see that :)

#starry rambles #my fic #omegaverse au #feeling particularly unhinged rn #it's the lack of sleep #anyway sleeby time zzzz

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colossal774 · 9 days ago

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In GTA IV they punish those that dared to steal the multigazillion dollar game with a drunk cam where you can see the game and technically move but it’s all backwards and drowsy and fucked up I would love to sit with the creators imagine creating something you know will be profitable and adding this in for shits and giggles so Raj in Mumbai or Minh from Hanoi who probably can’t even understand English waste time downloading their shitty overplanned and underdeveloped game just to find out it’s drunk cammed I played that game too well for years growing up you just download a fix and hope it keeps working but it always failed somehow and Nico isn’t moving properly again and you say goodbye to all that progress and restart the save and get another fix the one that will surely work this time and the more you progress the more you stop feeling your gun about deleting the game then bam you’re in that car again in front of a garage and your fat fuck cousin is saying Hey Nico dialogue screen is moving weird game mechanics fucked yet again anyways we strayed again so that was my game same game all the time same version sometimes and barely functional to keep you invested while punishing you for wanting to play it I hated it the big city with giant neon lines didn’t impress me the array of female models you can undress with a symbol mode or just replace all the dudes with naked tits something vaguely resembling bushes didn’t either I was in it for the story that’s what always got me and the characters the cousin that you will predict either of you betray the other or the death of one of you and the other mourning him like Mafia 2 stuff that was the era and I didn’t mind it I even accepted it and wished he would be the one that betrayed me it makes the story better again Mafia 2 you’re totally the asshole when the credit scene comes it leaves you empty and guilty so I kept playing I enjoyed the dates a kid my age finding out that there are dating mechanics in a game that isn’t online or pay to win was heaven because then seeing those vague bushes and distressingly anatomically accurate tits on the not anatomically accurate models felt weird it felt manufactured unearned I wanted Nico to actually earn love and by extension wet his dick but in a worth it setting not just ones I had added from a weird porno/mods/patches site that didn’t have one clean file so I did the dating I courted them when I could because Nico wasn’t a rich guy and had main missions to stick to and I even did it with the odd drunk camera active once or twice I didn’t get to see what happened when they eventually did the deed but it was better than seeing the modded models while he realistically didnt I loved the silly commercials Nicos had running on the TV more than the fully actualized in game cinema GTA 5 had because it was real it didn’t feel manufactured I think I’m the only person alive that has this game as their favorite GTA one it’s not the best story or characters or anything but when I had it it was mine the radio in GTA 5 with the funny edgy jokes written by old comics to make teens drool didn’t interest me I wanted what’s mine and what’s mine was an underdeveloped overly ambitious game that punished me for not buying it I hated that drunk cam and no fix ever worked long enough for me not to hate the game but even though I hated every single thing about it because of the cam and how my old laptop couldn’t run it properly without fuming and shutting down I finished it at least three times with the drunk cam not totally fixed and with my PC magically deleting save files whenever the drunk cam didn’t and I bought 5 when it came out because I liked the series never liked the dudes behind it but always liked the ones in it from GTA 3 to 5 and all whats between paid for one and accepted that Tommy if my saves weren’t deleted will lose the ability to do basic tasks and Nico will drunk cam my progress to hell and Claude’s whole world will shake until I find another fix I love video games and hate taking meds it fucks with the save files blurry vision and all

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brummiereader · 5 months ago

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@zablife that evil...😤! Urgh, I hate him even more now. Someone hide my knife collection!

I didn't think it possible I could hate him more than I already did. But after reading this thrilling little story, I managed to find extra space in my dark heart 😂.

It started off so beautiful. A young bride waiting to get married to "Henry" (the imposter 😒), and then we suddenly realised she didn't marry the love of her life but had been searching for him for three years!

Squeezing your hands for emphasis, she confided, "I'm glad he'll be here to look after you when I'm gone." Why do grandparents always say things like this 😭?? Mine were the worst, they'd even joke about things we'd inherit ( my grandads false teeth for example 😅) . Anyway, I loved the sweet moment between grannie and her granddaughter. But it only makes the following scenes when we find out she passed away only a month later more heartbreaking. She's truly alone 😩.

"You know, in all the fuss, I haven't seen my own son!" Git. Only the bride gets to stand the groom up! Can we not have anything just for us anymore??

God, my heart breaks for her and the reality she's about to face. Even though there's a certain naivety that comes with growing up in the countryside compared to the city, you can't help but feel sorry for her situation as she desperately searches for a man that hid his true self from her for so long. It's such a dick move to leave someone like that without an explanation, let alone doing it on their wedding day!

"Thank you," the wild eyed woman remarked, accepting your generosity. "Times are hard with my husband away. Yours locked up as well?" she ventured, casting a look at your ring. Esme! I always love when she appears in your stories. I still imagine you as her, even though you've changed your pfp since she was on there last ❤️.

"He had only one motive in sequestering you inside an interrogation room and the instant the door slammed behind you, your heart sank with the bitter realization of his true intentions" Arghhh! Noooo! That dirty pig 😡. Could things get any worse for her?? I'm gonna say yes, because you're our dark angsty queen 🤭.

"Well you don't have to worry anymore. I'm fine," he assured you, placing the cigarette between pursed lips. You have no idea how much his response enraged me. I knew he was gonna be a cunt, but he was so flippant and cruel. I fee like he took Tommy's personality and increased it ten fold. Not even Tommy would pull this kinda shit. This asshole does not posses a heart 😡.

"I suppose it is," he decided before turning his heel into the gravel decisively, leaving you alone in the freezing shade of the empty yard. I want to wring this little shits neck! I say good riddance Y/N. If this is what was hiding behind that country boy act he was putting on then she's better of without him. And to top off his cuntyness he went and said this...

"Do you know all the times I thought about planting dynamite beneath those pretty white bricks to blow you to hell?" he seethed" 😳! "You"...he said "you"! What is this little boys issue?? I don't think you could have depicted the evilness that lives in this man better than you did in this story. It was perfection 👌.

Where does this leave poor Y/N though 😩? She has given so much of herself to and for him. I hope she gets her revenge on the dickhead, and seeks out Tommy. Nothing would piss Michael off more than that 😌😈. My evil plan is at work in my over imaginative brain 😂.

Absolutely loved this story, Lee ❤️! Dark!Michael is something else 😬.

Broken Promises

Henry Johnson/Michael Gray x fiancee reader

Summary: When your fiancé leaves you at the altar, you go in search of answers in a frightening, new city. As you close in on him, you find that you aren't prepared for the man he has become.

Author's Note: Requested by a lovely anon.

Warnings: broken engagement, implied SA, mention of execution, Michael being an ass, heavy angst

1921, Kent

As your grandmother's shaky hands finished pinning your veil in place, she beamed with pride. "Even more beautiful than your mother was when she wore it," she mused, wiping a tear from her eye. "I only wish she was here to see you, love."

"I have you," you reminded her, reaching forward to wrap your arms around the only family member you had left in the world.

Prying you away from her delicate frame, she gazed upon you with affection that creased every well worn line of her soft skin. Eyes glistening with tears, you noted a tinge of sadness as she admitted, "But now you have Henry." Squeezing your hands for emphasis, she confided, "I'm glad he'll be here to look after you when I'm gone."

You wanted to tell her that wouldn't be for a long time, but a sharp knock interrupted your thoughts. "Is the bride ready?" a cheerful voice chirped from the other side.

Opening the heavy oak door, you were greeted warmly by your future mother-in-law, cheeks as rosy as the apples in her orchard as she bustled into the room to add her compliments. "Aren't you a beauty!" she exclaimed.

"You're too kind," you demurred as she proceeded to tell you how pleased she was for her son.

"Have you seen Henry this morning? Is he well?" you asked excitedly, wondering how your love had fared the night before.

Since your meeting two years ago, at the tender age of sixteen, neither of you had gone a day without meeting at the wishing well at the center of your village. Sitting upon the shining white bricks, you shared the small details of your day. It might have seemed mundane to others, but it gave you a sense of comfort to know there was nothing you didn't share with one another.

Rosemary shook her head with a good natured chuckle as she admitted, "You know, in all the fuss, I haven't seen my own son!"

Her lighthearted reply made you giggle because she was accustomed to such lapses, forgetting the bread in the oven or leaving her spectacles tucked in a book.

Then in classic fashion, she overshared a bit as she patted your hand, "You know you needn't worry about the stag party. He promised his father he'd only drink mild."

"I'm not worried, Mrs. Johnson," you replied, stifling a laugh.

"Rosemary, dear," she corrected you. "And I'm certain if he isn't here, he'll be along shortly."

You nodded in agreement, smiling to yourself in the full length mirror as you brushed the lace away from your face to study your reflection carefully.

---------------------

1924, Birmingham

The curtains in your bedsit flapped lightly in the wind, waking you with a start. A cough erupted from your lungs, unaccustomed to the smoke filled air of the city. What could have brought your fiancee to this God forsaken place?, you wondered as you rushed to close the window.

You made yourself a cup of tea and sat quietly watching the passersby, hoping by some miracle Henry would stroll by, though you knew from the papers he was locked away in a prison cell. Or at least, that's what you'd come to believe after staring at the smudged ink for too long, convinced he was now a man called Micheal Gray. Though it turned your stomach to think he was accused of murdering a priest, it was the only lead you'd found in three years time.

But in the fortnight since your arrival, you hadn't learned anything new, despite your efforts. The only other trace of Henry since your wedding had been an unreliable account by a lad who claimed he saw he a strange man with a scar speaking with Henry weeks before your wedding, rumors of a new life in Birmingham sprinkled into the conversation.

As you gazed down at the ring languishing on your finger, you wondered if he ever thought of you late at night, yearning for those moments of connection by the well. Did he even care that he'd left you all alone at the altar or worse yet, at the graveside of your beloved grandmother a month later? The heart break had nearly been too difficult to bear.

Now all you had to guide you was a whisper, a faded conversation in which Henry had been lured by the promises of a dark, foreboding stranger. This was probably why you'd forgiven his lapse of judgement, the concern for his wellbeing outweighing the anger you held in your heart. However, the second ring you wore, your grandmother's gold band, burned your skin as it reminded you of your worth which was far more than that assigned to you by your absent lover.

The combination of curiosity and indignation propelled you forward, day by day, searching the city for those who could provide answers. Usually the day ended with aching feet and a rumbling stomach, but today your efforts would be rewarded by a chance encounter with a dark haired woman, children clinging to her skirts.

You were buying a loaf of bread in the market when one of their small hands began to reach for you, their mother scolding them with a harsh slap.

"It's alright," you assured her. "Far too much for me on my own. I'm glad to share."

"Thank you," the wild eyed woman remarked, accepting your generosity. "Times are hard with my husband away. Yours locked up as well?" she ventured, casting a look at your ring.

Unsure how to reply, you lowered your eyes to the cobblestones beneath your feet as she prattled on about her John and how he'd been falsely accused thanks to her evil brother-in-law. "Not just him, mind you, everyone else in the family," she bemoaned as she fed the bread to her children. "Arthur, Polly, Michael..." she rambled absently as she tore the crust apart in even pieces.

"Did...did you say Michael? As in Michael Gray?" you stuttered hopefully.

"You know him?" she asked, head jerking up at the mention of his surname.

"Yes," you admitted, on an uneven breath. "Do you know where I can find him?"

-----------------

It was thru her suggestion that you met with the inspector bringing charges in the case. Chester Campbell was a disagreeable man, but the only one willing to discuss matters with you privately. For that you thanked him profusely, though in an hour's time you would not have done the same.

He had only one motive in sequestering you inside an interrogation room and the instant the door slammed behind you, your heart sank with the bitter realization of his true intentions. If you wanted Michael free, or if you wanted your own freedom for that matter, he suggested you comply with every devilish command he gave.

By the time he was finished, you were shaking in violent convulsions. As he draped a coat around you to conceal the tattered remains of your dress, you slipped away into the bustling street with an official document clutched tightly to your chest. It was your only solace in those dark hours that followed, waiting for the promised release of the man you only hoped would never learn of your sacrifice.

----------------------

You entered a new state of watchful waiting those next few days as you kept regular meetings with Esme. She kept you abreast of the news regarding the trial, mostly family matters that wouldn't be known to reporters. And though she urged you to see Michael before it was too late, you found yourself averse to the idea until one fateful day.

Finding Esme slumped over in a fit of grief, you ran to her. "What's happened?" you begged.

"Ain't you seen the papers?" she wailed.

You only shook your head in ignorance, a hand stroking along her back as she pitched forward in garbled cries. "They're....they're being executed."

The blood froze in your veins as you processed her words, wondering if this was truly the end of it all.

"You're sure?" you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. As she nodded against your shoulder you had only one question left. "When?"

"At dawn."

---------------------

The next morning you waited by the prison gate, hands pounding against the splintering wood until your fists were raw and aching. But no one paid any attention to the woman raving beneath their window. And who could blame them when you pleaded for the life of a killer?

By the time the clock tower struck twelve, you knew in your heart that the deed was done. Henry? Micheal? Whoever the man you once loved had been in life was no more. You sank to your knees and sobbed in a way you hadn't allowed yourself since your wedding day. Three long years of pain and sacrifice for this, you thought.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, you finally found the strength to pick yourself up and amble toward the road. However, a harsh creak of metal stopped you in your tracks. Turning to face the path you'd just walked, you could hardly believe your eyes as you caught sight of Henry standing bruised and battered, but alive nonetheless.

Your breath caught in your throat as your hand reached out toward him involuntarily, years of longing superseding your rational mind. "H-henry?" you called to him.

The man before you furrowed his brow for a moment as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He looked as though he were lost in a daze as he took his time lighting it, the glowing match in his hand quivering slightly. You could tell that the years had aged him, but not beyond total recognition. Somewhere beneath the hardened exterior was the boy you knew long ago in the countryside and you longed for him to hold you in his arms once more.

However, your daydream was cut short when he replied gruffly, "What do you want?"

You stepped toward him cautiously, head tilted as you took in his disheveled appearance. His waist coat was dirty and torn, pants far too short for his height and yet he still looked as handsome as you remembered. Then you wondered if perhaps he was having trouble recalling you as well due to the recent trauma.

"It's me...Y/n," you offered gently. "I came to find what became of you," you answered earnestly. "I...I was worried."

He raised his head to the sky, considering the passing clouds for a moment before blowing a lungful of smoke upward to join them. "Well you don't have to worry anymore. I'm fine," he assured you, placing the cigarette between pursed lips.

You shook your head at his cool detachment, eyes searching his for the hint of the caring young man you once knew. "You were sentenced to hang today and that's all you have to say, Henry?"

"That's not my name," he corrected you sternly. "I go by Michael now."

"Yes, I know," you mumbled in confusion.

"Look, if you came about our engagement..." he began, a threatening scowl crossing his face as he plucked the cigarette from his lips in a telling reveal he knew exactly who you were.

"No, I see that's long forgotten," you admitted with a heavy heart. "But I want you to know I still care for you deeply," you ventured on baited breath.

He hummed to himself gently as he nodded in agreement, "I know.." Then stilling all movement he replied without a hint of emotion, "The guards told me what you did."

Your body clenched in fear at the prospect of him learning your shameful secret, but you stood fast waiting to hear what else he might say. As his mouth curled into a small smile, you allowed yourself a morsel of hope, until he spat cruelly, "They thought it was funny."

You shifted uncomfortably before him, chest aching with shattered pride as he huffed out a humorless laugh at your expense.

"I suppose it is," he decided before turning his heel into the gravel decisively, leaving you alone in the freezing shade of the empty yard.

"Wait!" you shouted, racing toward him to capture his arm between desperate fingertips. "You can't mean that. I know you cared for me once too. What happened?" you begged, tears streaming down your face.

As he flicked his cigarette butt into the street, he eyed you in a side long glance. "You think you know me, but you never understood," he said with a shake of his head.

"That's not true," you insisted, twisting his arm to make him look at you. "You loved our life...you loved...me," you stuttered out between hiccuped sobs, all the pent up emotion rising to the surface. "Don't you remember all those wonderful afternoons we spent at the wishing well?"

The clench of his jaw and the ironlike grip against your hand frightened you, but it was nothing in comparison to the spiteful look in his eye when he finally faced you.

"Do you know all the times I thought about planting dynamite beneath those pretty white bricks to blow you to hell?" he seethed.

You jerked your hand away in terror just as he released you, falling to the ground with a painful thud. "Henry?" you mumbled as you looked up at him in shock.

"I already told you, that's not who I am anymore," he hissed before stalking away and as you watched him disappear into the smoke and fog, you finally had to concede that he was right. The boy who promised to cherish you forever was gone. He'd been replaced by some monster now wandering the dark and desolate streets of his new home, a place where you did not belong.

---------------

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#michael gray #michael gray x you #michael gray x reader #michael gray x reader insert #michael gray fanfic #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction

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hawkins-losers · 2 years ago

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Hiya 😊 would you mind doing ‘’Can I sleep here tonight?’’ billy hargrove (sfw)

where billy feels crappy and lonely after spending most of the night at a party of endless girls fawning over him and endless idiots like Tommy talking his ear off and finds himself wishing he had someone that actually cares about him and the first person that comes to mind is y/n so he shows up at hers and asks if he can stay cuz he likes her company

Don’t get him wrong, Billy loved partying but smoking, drinking and finding a hot girl to hookup with in his car every weekend was getting a little redundant – especially in Hawkins. After some time, your hookup options get smaller and smaller too. Billy had even lowered his standards, but it got toa point where if he lowered his standards any lower he’d have to fuck with his eyes closed and he wasn’t even sure he could keep himself hard enough to go through it.

‘’Have you seen Tiffany’s tits tonight? They’re spilling from her dress.’’ Tommy brought his beer to his lips, smiling around his red cup as he let his imagination run wild. ‘’If I’d bump into her, I bet one would get out.’’

Tommy had been talking all night – the guy was worse than a chatty Katy. Carol had disappeared with her girl friends somewhere in the crowd, making Billy’s nightmare live on. She was annoying, but when she was around, Tommy was giving her attention and talking less.

Although they hung out at parties, Billy wasn’t sure if he would consider him a friend. The guy acted like everyone was kissing his feet, acting like he was the next king of Hawkins High. As if. Billy wasn’t much of a fan of Carol either. She was always checking his ass, wishing she could have a grab.

While Billy loved the attention, he wasn’t a piece of fucking meat.

Some girls came over and flirted, some of them even tried to get a second chance in his pants, but Billy flatly rejected them. What was wrong with him?

The alcohol was getting to his brain – that’s what was happening. He started feeling like shit and was no longer in the mood to drink – which was rare.

In moments like this, having a girl to call ‘his’ didn't sound half bad – if he skipped the ‘letting someone into his life’ part because that was fucking terrifying. He'd like to have someone who actually cared about him and to go to when he felt lonely, not just someone who he’ll add to his list of hookups.

Billy reached into his jacket for his pack of cigarettes, but he found a crumpled blue raspberry lollipop wrapper instead. The corner of his lips curled, remembering how you went on a drive a few days ago and you had gotten a lollipop at the gas station. Billy had rolled his eyes at your childish purchase. It made your tongue blue and – later on – made his dick taste like blue raspberry.

You answered the door in your bunny slippers and a sleep shirt – and a confused frown on your face –, not expecting anyone tonight.

‘’Hargrove?’’ A chill brisk of autumn air hit you, forcing you to cross your arms over your chest to warm up. It wasn’t the first time Billy came to your house, but unlike the previous times, you weren’t expecting him. ‘’I thought you were at a party.’’

Billy shrugged, his eyes casually rising to meet yours. ‘’It was a snooze.’’

You scoffed. ‘’Is that another way to say you couldn’t find a girl to hookup with without bruising your ego?’’

‘’No. Is that all you think I do on a Friday night? Fucking girls.’’

You raised an eyebrow, getting flashes of how you had met.

‘’Alright, alright,’’ Billy admitted with a grin. ‘’What are you doing on a Friday night?’’

‘’Watching Dynasty reruns on TV and eating pizza. You’re gonna be disappointed, though. I’m afraid there’s not enough naked girls to satisfy your Friday night.’’

‘’I didn’t come here for naked girls. Although…’’ He glanced down at your bare legs, biting his bottom lip.

You rolled your eyes at his perverted mind. ‘’Horndog.’’

Billy laughed, owning it. ‘’All seriousness. Can I sleep here tonight? I…I don’t feel like going home.’’

‘’Okay, but I’m warning you, we’re watching Dynasty.’’

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3 @cursedandromedablack @Slashersimpfor @savagejane1 @wh0reforbucknasty @eddiemunson-slut @slvdsjjk @hehehehannahthings @dreamdancers-world @eddiemunsonbby @notbeforelong @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog @tatespillows @alwayslexii @lilygreennn @milkiane @imahomeslice @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @horrorstreet @rmeddar123 @pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys @luvmybbies @chloepricesgrafitimarker @inluvweddiemunson @i-like-trains @kittenfrostt @simp-for-slasher @m-rae23 @kenzi-woycehoski

Billy Hargrove taglist: @irlganyuy @mystic-moonpie @italk2god @hope1869 @boomhauer @originalsoulcollector @zosia3666 @bubsonnobx @bonked-beyond-belief2 @evanstanwhore @chrisxevans-seb @jennilynn63 @sugar-simz @Minksblog @braelyn003 @forcemeanakin @sweetheart-im-the-boss @hoeformunsonandhargrove @buckyswhxre @bbylyneth @bobafettsleftglove

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove blurb #i didn't reread myself so I'm sorry if it sucks

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kedreeva · 2 years ago

Note

Steve gets to have the talk with Jonathan that he wanted to have at the end of S1

I know who sent this one, and I know why she went on anon, and I SEE YOU, SUNSHINE.

collected on AO3

-----

It doesn’t take long for Steve to feel out of place in the too-bright waiting room. He’s exhausted and achy and still reeling from spinning his entire life hard 180 degrees only to find himself in utter freefall. He’d already had his own injuries looked at and been told to have someone keep an eye on him for his concussion, but there was no one at home, so he’d collapsed into the nearest unoccupied chair.

But now the lights are too bright and the kids had all shot up to see their friend when he woke up, and the adults had either gone with them or disappeared for business, and Steve finds himself once again alone. The silence - or near-silence anyway - is nice, but every time the dying light down the hall flickers, his heart kicks his ribs and he’s right back in Jonathan’s living room. He’s watching the girl he loves point a gun at his face while his misconception of the world as a safe place falls apart behind her.

He heaves himself to his feet, and heads for the door.

The chill November air greets him sharply, and he welcomes the way it braces him. He doesn’t go far – not supposed to be alone – just leans against the cold bricks of the front entrance to take a few deep breaths. He closes his eyes, head tipping back against the stone.

The door opens to his right, and he hates the way his hands twitch for a weapon, so he sticks them in his pockets as Jonathan joins him. He doesn’t know what to say, how to break the ice; he’d broken too much already in the past 24 hours. How can the knowledge of what he’d said live right there beside the knowledge that he’d lay down his life for this boy without a single thought? Sorry isn’t big enough to bridge the gap he'd made between them.

“How’s your brother?” he says, because he has to say something or he’ll crawl out of his skin and they’ve had enough of that tonight.

“Alive. Happy to see his friends,” Jonathan says, not looking over as he leans back against the wall now that he’s had an invitation. He puffs out a laugh. “Maybe not as happy as the kids were to see him.”

Steve manages a thin smile around the shards of his heart. He cannot imagine having friends that care that much, the sort that would go to the ends of the earth for him, that would burn it to the ground to save him. Tommy’s loyalty ended at a single rejection.

Jonathan may have rightfully kicked Steve’s ass, but he’d also taken his hand. He can still feel the gut-pull shiver of Jonathan demanding jump and his own instant and unthinking obedience. He can still see the flicker of lights through the window. He can still hear his one, crystal thought: he can’t leave them.

Not Nancy. Them.

“They’re good kids,” he says quietly. “Your brother too.” His breath twists up in his lungs as his face pinches up. “Look, I uh- I shouldn’t have said what I said about him. Or you.”

Jonathan remains quiet, not looking at Steve for so long that Steve nearly opens his mouth to continue the apology he’d gone there to make, but Jonathan beats him to the punch again. “It was pretty shitty of you. Honest, but shitty.”

“It wasn’t,” Steve says, and then quickly amends- “Honest, I mean. That’s why- I don’t know, dude. Maybe you knocked some sense into me. I was being a huge dick to you because I couldn’t handle my own problems.”

“King Steve has problems?” Jonathan asks, though it sounds more like a barb than a question.

Steve pulls a hand from his pocket to run it through his hair. “I guess,” he says with a little shake of his head. “I don’t know what it is about Nancy. It’s like… she’s the first person that’s ever looked at me like she just… expects me to be a better person than I am. And the crazy thing is, when she looked at me like that, I wanted to be, I just… I didn’t know how. I either had to climb up to her level or drag her down to mine and when I saw I saw the two of you, I was just… I dunno. Furious.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jonathan says. It’s not the truth, Steve knows; or at least, it’s not the whole truth.

“It was, but that’s not- that wasn’t it. I thought it was, but it wasn’t,” Steve admits. It feels weird to say it aloud. “I thought I was mad that she… would come down to my level, I guess? After I let myself think… it doesn’t matter. And I was mad at you for… I dunno. Being the reason.”

“Nothing happened, Steve,” Jonathan says, a little hotly.

“That’s not true,” Steve says. “I mean, yeah, okay, you two didn’t screw or whatever, but… something happened. She went to you for help. Not me. Or, y’know, it’s- it’s worse than that. She did come to me, and I was too much of an asshole to help her. I was too worried about my dad’s opinion. He’s not even- It’s stupid. I should have helped her sooner. I was furious at myself for not listening to her. I should have.”

Jonathan doesn’t argue that, and Steve tries again to pull the knife of the realization from his gut, but it doesn’t move. She’d needed help, and he’d walked away, and he’d gotten exactly what he’d deserved for it. He’d gotten off easy, looking back.

“Well, you can’t go back,” Jonathan says, almost as if he’d read Steve’s mind. “None of us can, after this. There's only forward.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He’s going to try to get back to normal, or make a new normal at least. He’s going to make sure they think this is over, and then he’s going to do his level fucking best to forget any of this ever happened.

Almost any of it, anyway. Maybe not the part where he's trying, now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, trips over the words in his rush to make good on his decision. “I meant- I meant to say that, before. It’s why I… came over to your place. I wanted to apologize. Even before the monsters.”

He’d wanted to apologize once the monster had gone, but Nancy had rushed them into the cars and told him to meet them at the school gymnasium, and then they’d been so frantically trying to find where the kids had disappeared to that nothing had even been explained until they finally sat down at the hospital. Steve still isn’t sure he totally understands, but he’s not sure if there’s explanation missing or if it’s the concussion talking.

“I already… told Tommy and Carol off, that bridge burned pretty goddamn quick. I cleaned off the theater sign. I was coming to apologize to you, and then I was going to see Nancy, and apologize to her, too,” he adds, remembering the speech he’d thought about the entire drive out to Jonathan’s house. “I want to do better. I messed up and I don’t know if I can make up for it, but I want to do better.”

“Okay,” Jonathan says. Simple as that.

“Okay?” Steve echoes dumbly.

Jonathan shrugs and pushes away from the wall. “Yeah. You want to do better- okay. But, I’m freezing my ass off out here. Come back inside.”

Jump.

Steve pushes away from the wall, too, and follows him inside.

#stranger things #steve harrington #jonathan byers #stonathan #stranger things fic #my writing #askbox prompts #*glee*#https://archiveofourown.org/works/42173625/chapters/107960376

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peanuts-envy · 3 years ago

Text

I’m looking up all the times your reputation can go up with Kim so you can imagine my mental state (clinical homosexual frenzy) here are some of my faves

Goofing off in front of the body:

Kim Kitsuragi - "Daba-doop-doop-dead," he says without a hint of melody. Not one muscle in his face moves.

If you tell him you want to wrestle a bear (the book you find in Evrart's office mentions it)

If you drop a sweet verse on Tommy

If you say you want to have a funeral for your car

If you go on a date with Lillienne and bring him along (??? ?? ???) She says she won’t date Harry until he’s one year sober but I think it’s because he brought another man to their date maybe???

CALLING KIM COOL IN FROM OF JEAN OMG

KEEPING BOTH HIS PENS HAHAHA:

You - "Kim, do you have a pen?"

Kim Kitsuragi - The lieutenant looks at his blue notebook. *Two* fat, shiny pens hang from the binder, like large calibre bullets on an ammo belt.

Suggestion - It's downright *incriminating*. He has little choice but to give you one, although he really does not want to.

Kim Kitsuragi - He is not really saying anything. Just standing there -- looking at them.

You - "Fine, I'll just use this crappy pencil..."

Kim Kitsuragi - Absolutely motionless at first, then animated slowly, imperceptibly even, the lieutenant begins to browse his notes again. Leaving you to the case files.

Empathy - The threat has passed. He is thankful it has passed, and that he's gotten to keep both pens.

Asking Klassje about The Return:

You - "Miss. What are you waiting for?"

Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer) - "You mean here--in Martinaise?" She takes a drag, slow and long...

You - Nod.

Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer) - "I'm waiting for the miracle to happen. It'll take one to get me out of the mess I'm in."

Kim Kitsuragi - "And what would that miracle be?"

Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer) - "The Return, of course." She smiles.

If you are mechanically inclined (lots n lots of these No Surprise)

Kim Kitsuragi - "Hang on, you're telling me you remember all these little mechanical details, but you have trouble remembering your name?"

You - "I might not know much, but I *do* know I like motor carriages -- must be a subconscious thing."

Kim Kitsuragi - "Strange... but plausible, I guess." He gives you a quick side-glance and turns to go. "I guess you're a bit of a... torque dork too."

Empathy - He seems to like the idea.

If you critically analyze Dick Mullen at the reading group:

You - "... but in the end Mullen is a reflection of a politico-legal institution that's irreconcilably divided between protecting 'the people' and defending the material interests of capital."

Kim Kitsuragi - The lieutenant doesn't speak, but you believe you detect a slight widening of his eyes, as though he never expected such a cogent thought to emerge from your mouth.

Not even sure how to categorize this one except it calls into question the Pissing Competition motives a little bit because......what would you call this??

You - "Hold on, Kim. I did not know this was a competition."

Kim Kitsuragi - "It isn't. Police work is a *cooperative* sport."

Physical Instrument - There is no challenge without competition. There must be an opponent.

Hand/Eye Coordination - This is clearly a sport for him. Something like archery -- or darts?

You - "It's still about getting hits, right? And not missing?"

Kim Kitsuragi - "That's too *pinball* for me. I just like to get autopsies right on the first try." He makes another note. "Where were we?"

Drama - He's lying.

#long post #'I guess you're a bit of a torque dork too' takes me OUT #disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #the nodding contest felt too long to add but it's stellar #it ends with an EDC that's like 'you'd die for each other' which always makes me feel Normal #JUST TWO BROS

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brummiereader · 2 years ago

Text

Well well well look who finally caught up 😁! Sorry it wasn't sooner, things got a bit busy here. But now I have some time to finally sit down and read this chapter...eeek! I'm so excited ❤️! Got my drink ready, although I'm worried I might end up launching it at something rather than drinking it with the way your angsty chapters go 😂.

Well shit, one paragraph in and It's already going down hill...What news has Ada come with to turn this lovely couples life upside down...again 🙄😅.

Heaven knows Arthur like she made him, she knows him far too well. TWO DAYS, she has more patience than me, I would have threatened whatever had him acting like that after two seconds 😂.

Bloody hell Arthur this is not the time to start getting horny, Heaven is a few seconds from forcing your worries out you.

"and to be honest, you had feared the first temptation far greater than the second until you realized that Arthur’s new favorite drug was you" this🙌, I have been saying this from the start Heaven is a drug to Arthur, he craves her, desires her, needs her support to simply function. I honestly think at this point he can't live without her... notre pauvre petit loulou 😩.

Something has gotten Arthur really worried...I hate seeing him like this, but at the same time your write these moment were Arthur is worried so incredibly well I can't help but indulge in your descriptions of his torment 😂.

Someone still likes those head massages 😉.

Oh Arthur, Art is one of the most Romantic ways to express your feelings ❤️. How adorable is that...he has a little book full of drawings of his beautiful wife, this is too damn fluffy...send me some angst before I melt 🥴. Yes! Thank you shark! You gave him his garage to fix his cars, my heart broke for him in the series when he said he wanted to do that and Linda just brushed it off 😠.

"shift these panties woman "...oh bloody hell here we go...😂😂 This had me laughing so hard! He lets his worries slip out and the same time as getting furiously horny 😅. But in all honesty, I can totally see how Arthur would get his emotions mixed up like this. He is such a emotionally complex character, and you write it perfectly, your description of him getting all worked up and lustful is the only way I could imagine Arthur being with Heaven.

😯😯, wait she's not stopping! I see what you're doing there Heaven 😏. It's funny because I have a similar scene in the next chapter of my series like this, great minds think alike, we know these Shelby men too well. I really really love this part ❤️!! It's written perfectly like seriously, PERFECT 🔥 The power she has over him in this moment is so compelling. He is at her mercy, hanging on by her every move as he spills his secrets. Very intense scene (sips drink 🥵)!

Now our poor Heaven is left alone. This must be absolute torment for her, these two are connected at the hip, and two weeks away from eachother for a couple like them must feel like an eternity. I really loved how you wrote her slow despair and longing for him, it just really installs in the reader how much these two love eachother.

Uh oh Heavens senses are on alert, she knows something's not right 😬. Well merde...here we go...

WHAT THE ...wait I thought it was going to be a letter from the italians 😯! Who is this letter from?? Is it section D?? My mind is going wild, when I first read "To Arthur Shelby's whore" I rolled my eyes thinking it was asshole Tommy being a dick taunting her 🤦‍♀️😅. I'm not surprised her first instinct is to go straight to Birmingham to find Arthur, god help anyone that gets in her way. You have me on the edge of my seat Shark...I'm desperate to know what happens next! You know I'm starting to think their enemies are not taking Heaven seriously, she's a bloody WITCH...do they not realise how dangerous that could be for them if they cross paths with her, I know I wouldn't want to get on her wrong side 😬. Incredible chapter Hun ❤️! I'm so excited for the next part! I love sitting down, getting comfy and reading this series. I get so immersed into the world you have created, and it's all because of your amazing writing ❤️❤️!

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: All it took was one phone call and one visit from Ada to destroy the paradise Arthur had spent one full year building. No matter what he does, his past crimes always seem to catch up with him. Now that you are in danger, he decides to come back to Birmingham and handle the Changretta problem without you.

Words: 5,3K

TW: Angst, canonical description of violence, smut, foreplay, masturbation, self-harm, from the end of this chapter the story will take a darker turn. You've been warned.

Notes:

✞ Based off EP1 S4 of Peaky Blinders but contains many changes and variations for the sake of this series' plot.

✞ Each act features two chapters with smut in it, and they all serve the story's purpose. No more.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT CHAPTER

When Ada’s piercing eyes finally caught sight of the house’s roof through the trees’ thick foliage, she sighed relieved. While the landscape was breathtaking, the walk from her car to the front door had been tedious despite the short distance. In fact, the only way to access the house was to walk a sloped dirt road leading the visitors up to the hill’s summit — which was an almost impossible task to do when wearing classy high heels as was Ada’s case. Arthur did not lie when he said they were living far from the city. The young Shelby sister quickly wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and knocked at the door. She was welcomed by the sight of Arthur, whose magnificent steel blue eyes lit up when he saw his sister, delighted to see her. But far from a courtesy visit, the words that left her mouth broke their siblings' reunion. Like red-hot blades, they slashed Arthur’s hopes of straying away from his gangster life.

All the quietness and peace he had built throughout the year, rendering his anger outbursts less frequent, shattered like a glass smashed on concrete under the power of one sole visit from Ada and her bitter statement: the family was in danger.

No.

You were in danger.

And it was all his fault.

Something had changed in Arthur when he came back from his little talk with Ada. He had barely stepped into the house that you noticed how all the muscles of his body were tensed and how his facial features had turned into a colder expression.

“Arthur.” It has been the third time you’d called him, but each previous attempt had been left without any reply or reaction. Slumped on the sofa, the oldest Shelby brother was staring at an invisible spot on the wall facing him, his eyes blank and his fingers nervously taping on the left armrest. At first, you thought he just needed a bit of time with himself to swallow the visible bad news he had received from his sister, but two days had passed and now his behavior was starting to worry you.

“Arthur Shelby Jr.” You called with stricter tone this time.

All of sudden, your voice cleared the black fog of his mind and brought him back to reality. Arthur blinked several times as if he could shoo his messy thoughts away by batting his eyelashes, and finally raised his piercing blue eyes toward your graceful frame, that was standing in front of him with its arms crossed. At the serious expression on your doll face, he nervously moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, his gaze not shifting from you one sole second. God, how gorgeous you were in your silk nightgown, as white as your hair and adorned with complex laces. That was the first thought that had crossed his mind when his gaze fell on you. In truth, he would have probably pinned you to the wall and made your legs shake until you could not walk straight anymore if he hadn’t been plagued by the dreadful news Ada brought upon your harmonious life “Eh, I know…” He started, slightly raising his almost empty whiskey glass towards you, “I shouldn’t be drinking.” He admitted, before lowering his eyes to look at his own reflection in the alcohol. With one small movement from the wrist, he made the amber liquid softly spin in the glass. Arthur was still traumatized by Linda’s constant snarky remarks and humiliations each time he was indulging in whisky, that was why he had felt the need to justify himself now that you saw him drink alone.

“You don’t need my permission to drink, Cheri.” You replied with a soft voice, as soft as a feather’s caress on his poor aching soul. You were definitely not like his former wife: he could do whatever he wanted as long as it wasn’t taking drugs or cheating. That had always been the tacit deal between both of you when things got serious — and to be honest, you had feared the first temptation far greater than the second until you realized that Arthur’s new favorite drug was you.

Your crystal irises had been observing the slightest trait of his face with slightly furrowed brows for one solid minute when you finally let out a little sigh and slid one long ivory strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m just worried. You haven’t eaten anything nor slept for two days straight.” Worst, he had been hugging you tight, burying his face in your breasts and trembling like a leaf because of panic attacks for the last two nights.

“Worried? Eh, no need to be worried, love. Cm’here.” He replied with a little smile, moving one of his long leg to invite you to have a sit on him.

Arthur did try his best not to make you feel anxious but the truth was he was literally unable to hide something from his beloved wife even if he had wished to shield you from it. He had been mulling the news over for days and nights, and it was starting to eat him alive.

You walked to him without further ado, your hips graciously swinging to the rhythm of your steps, and finally sat on his lap. Once you straddled him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently rested your forehead against his as you usually did. Arthur let out a sigh of relief as your bodies found each other again, his hands grabbing your hips in an almost bruising grip. He was often a bit blunt, but how much you loved his possessive and suffocating way of touching was indescribable, “Ye didn’t know how much I needed it, eh.” Arthur’s husky voice mumbled, referring to his obsessive and desperate need to constantly have physical contact with you, “How much I needed your touch.” His steel-blue irises dived into yours, losing themselves in the vastness of the frozen ocean that constituted your eyes. He could have stayed like this for eternity, hypnotized by your beauty and lulled by the oh-so-tender way you had slipped your fingers in his hair to gently scratch the shaven back of his head.

“There. I finally see a smile!” You faintly teased him, “Not that I dislike that adorable grumpy face of yours.”

Nothing much had changed since your wedding day, except for your family name and the regular discussions about trying for a baby, all nestled in each other’s arms in your bed with Kaiser sleeping near, in front of the fireplace. In truth, it has been a miracle you were not already pregnant considering Arthur’s stamina and unquenchable desire. The thing was you never left the honeymoon stage despite living together. Against all odds, Arthur Shelby was a sweet and caring husband. He never missed an opportunity to bring you gifts, whether expensive clothes, jewels, or just little flowers he picked on his way back home because it was pretty and made you think about you. Moreover, he had this ability to always manage to find awe in your daily routine, the last example of it being him spending hours observing you and discreetly drawing your frame in his sketchbook because he had spotted you swimming naked in the nearby lake, and was star-stricken by such a divine vision. He had felt like an incredibly lucky Greek artist catching sight of the most stunning nymph the Gods had ever created. Little you knew, his sketchbook was filled with portraits and doodles of you he was too ashamed of to show you. Not that he wanted to keep them for himself, but Arthur always ended up frustrated not being able to properly translate your mesmerizing and ethereal beauty on paper.

Besides your idyllic and peaceful domestic life far from gangster’s troubles, Arthur had also opened a small garage and fixed cars for a living, even if his past activities with the Peaky Blinders gave him enough money to live comfortably without working. But Arthur was surprisingly handy when his patience did not fail him, and he genuinely loved to fix cars — what had been his surprise when you reacted with joy and kissed him tenderly the day he suggested the idea, for Linda never allowed him to do so.

Regarding your own occupation, you had simply followed your mother’s path and worked as both a herbalist and healer — the second occupation being known among people only through word of mouth. That was what your life looked like prior to Ada’s unexpected visit two days ago. Yet, when she left, Arthur’s eyes had turned into a darker shade, the same one he had when he was in Birmingham dirtying his hands on Tommy’s orders.

“Arthur, love. You really need to tell me what’s the matter with your sister…” You gently asked, your fingers still massaging his scalp and your juicy lips sprinkling honey pecks on the corner of his mouth from which the whisky bitterness could be tasted. But despite all your tenderness, your husband remained closed to the idea of sharing his concerns with you.

“It’s… A bit difficult to explain,” He mumbled, shutting his eyes tight, “I don’t want ye to panic or something. I can handle it and…”

“Please.” You cut him off, tightening your arms around him to pull him in a deeper hug. All his body finally relaxed a little bit when your fragile and frozen being collapsed with his, your breasts flattened against his chest and your hips firmly embracing his, “When we’ve met you told me that, from now, it was us against the rest of the world. Even if it was raining and the wind was blowing. You don’t have to face it all alone Arthur, no matter how awful or frightening it is. Let me fight it with you.” You pleaded, your lips grazing his with utter desire and genuine love.

“But I don’t want ye to be in danger.” Arthur finally admitted, reopening his gorgeous eyes to look at you. How much he hated not to share information with you, but Tommy told him it would be better if you ignored everything. Yet, the sensation of your mouth brushing his without kissing it soon stirred a bit of frustration in him. It had been enough to make him flip. With a grunt, he caught your lower lip between his teeth and gently sunk them into your soft flesh, to which you replied with a small surprised moan. Now that he got all your attention, he proceeded to kiss you almost furiously, his worries, dawning anger and blazing desire mixing together. His movements became blunter all of sudden, “I’ll fookin’ kill myself if something bad would happen to ye, eh,” He growled a bit louder against your mouth, his husky voice highlighted by an aggressive tone you hadn’t heard in one full year, “But I’ll destroy ‘em first, eh. These fookin’ wops won’t lay their fingers on ye. They won’t.” He repeated, his venomous anger wakening up slowly and coursing through his rusted veins. A little surprised whimper escaped from your mouth as Arthur’s tongue forced its way between your lips a bit too eagerly.

“Arthur —“

“Fookin’ bastards, how dare they eh?!” The gravel in his voice boomed louder, underlined with a palpable rage now. As he pestered, his mind spinning in a whirlpool of negativity, Arthur grabbed your wrist and led your hand between his legs, pressing it on his half-hardened shaft, for all his brutal emotions more than often led to sex when you were around. It was his, as well as your, way to release tension, “How dare they threaten me eh?” The tall gangster started to breathe loudly through his nose as his rage was increasing. All he needed was the smallest sparkle for him to explode. While he kept your wrist in one hand, his other one ran up your thighs in a rough caress to lift your nightgown eagerly, “Shift these panties, woman.” He said a bit more aggressively than intended, maddened by the overwhelming urge to feel your wet slit all around him. Growling, Arthur’s mouth worked its way down your neck to leave small red marks on your divine ivory skin.

“Arthur, no.” You breathed as you bite down a moan, doing your best to sound strict. As good as it felt, you did not want to give in now: getting distracted by rough sex was out of question, what you wanted was the truth first.

Arthur, no. As soon as your words left your tantalizing lips, they echoed in his head and were enough to snatch him from his violent thoughts. The tall gangster blinked and raised his slightly confused gaze to you, shocked by your vivid refusal. After all, you would usually let him ruin you whenever he needed it so why would you refuse? “You’re hurting me.” You reiterated with a sweeter tone now that you got his attention.

“Oh shit!” He released your wrist in response, guilt beating him down when he realized your skin was redden because of his grip, “I’m sorry…Oh, Angel, I’m bloody sorry…”

Still, you kept your hand there to his greatest surprise. The only difference was that your free fingers went for his cheek to bless him with soothing caresses to reassure him. As always, the cold sensation of your flesh against his managed to tame the wildfire that was burning in his soul, “Calm down...” Your voice was merely a whisper now, similar to the enchanting murmur of a siren singing in the far away distance, “Is this what you want?” You backed up a little bit on his lap to create a little gap between your hips so that you could get a better grip on his bulge. The palm of your hand started to languidly rub it.

“Heaven?” He gasped, the anger in his cold blue eyes suddenly turning into an astonished and beseeching look. But for Arthur Shelby no meant no, hence the fact he did not dare to touch you back, “Oh bloody hell, please…” He gritted through his teeth. As strong as he was, he felt his body weakened and his throat tightened with an unsufferable arousal.

“Now you tell me,” Leaving your sentence hanging, you grabbed him a bit stronger and he whimpered at your unexpected roughness. A long exhale escaped from his nostrils as he focused on both the electrifying sensation that shook his core and the enchanting sight of your lips he dreamt to fuck. Yet, Arthur gathered all his strength and willpower to remain calm, afraid you wouldn’t let him sink into your welcoming warmth if he misbehaved, “What happened with Ada?” You inquired, tilting your head on the side, “What did John tell you when he called you?”

“Eh… Nothing— Ah..” Arthur’s lips parted under the coiling pleasure when you tightened your grip on his shaft, “I— Can’t tell ye, love.”

“No, no. You’re going to tell me. Do you know why? Because you’re a good boy for your wife.” You cooed. Your almost chilling aquamarine irises were anchored in his, burning with an unflickering gleam of power and confidence. Sometimes Arthur wondered how such a delicate and fragile-looking angel like you could hide the seductive and fearful which you truly were. A witch to the others, a goddess to him — And how he liked both of those facets of you, feeding his dominant behavior but also fulfilling his more submissive tendencies when he needed to but was too ashamed to admit it. To be true, you both knew how to balance the power you hold over the other one, and tonight, you were clearly the one in charge, “Are you a good boy, Arthur Shelby?” You teased, one brow raised.

He clenched his fists around the sofa’s blanket in a desperate attempt to find a way to control himself for he almost cum at your praise, “I am…” Arthur slowly rolled his hips, “I’m a good boy for me wife…“ He replied, sucking in a sharp breath, with his quivering hoarse voice, “Please…” He growled in discomfort because his trousers had become far too tight. Nevertheless, you remained unmoved by his supplications and stopped moving your hand, waiting for an answer, “Alright! Alright… Im gonna tell ye!”

“I hope so.” You replied, kneading his bulge again.

“Ada and John told me we’ve all received a Black Hand.” He started, looking at you with impatience. Satisfied, you unbuckled his belt and let your hand work its way into his underwear to grab his hardened cock by its thick base and free it from his trouser. Arthur let out a loud groan, a drop of sweat beading on his forehead. Not only at the sensations but at the sight of your small fingers around his erection.

“What’s a Black Hand?” You kept asking all the while enjoying the sight of your husband’s enamored, begging, and fascinated gaze. He was looking at you, obliterating everything else, for only the words that came from your holy lips mattered.

“Oh fook, Angel… Touch me harder.” He begged in a trembling, almost broken voice. If there was one thing Arthur could not stand that was being teased. Thus it did not take much for you to have him wrapped around your finger. He suddenly bit his lower lip, eyes glistening with ruling passion, for the way the moonlight reflected through the window behind you created a heavenly halo around your head, “Touch me!” Another husky whine. The gangster rolled his hips eagerly, nails digging into the sofa’s fabric.

“Focus, Mon amour. The Black Hand. What is it?” You repeated, pressing a little kiss on his starving and slightly parted mouth while your hand started to jerk him off in slow up-and-down movements. At first, Arthur thought it would soothe the painful hardness of his cock but your far too languid movements only worsened it.

“Ah! The Black Hand yes. It’s a death threat from the Sicilian mafia. They send one to everyone they wanna — oh fook! — wanna kill…” He said through gritted teeth at the feeling of your thumb rubbing the glistening tip of his cock in circular motions, smearing precum on his skin. Arthur rolled his eyes, holding back a desperate cry as your hand pumped him in a way that brought him closer to heaven — or closer to hell, it was getting hard to tell.

“Why would they send you one?” You frowned, stroking a little bit faster.

“Oh bloody motherfucking hell!” He yelled, the gravel in his voice making the house shake as he threw his head back. Yet, he did not shut his eyes tight for looking at you while you masturbated him only strengthened his pleasure. He felt as if he was burning from within, “Cause I killed Changretta’s dad! I’ve put a fookin’ bullet through his skull. And now Tommy wants us to have an emergency reunion!” He spat very quickly, unable to stand it anymore. With a bit of luck, you’d allow him to spill himself now that he told you everything. Arthur let out an ashamed and submissive whimper, turned into a begging mess, “Let me cum! I’ll fookin’ beg on my knees if that’s what ye want! On my bloody knees, I will! but please… Please, Angel… I can’t take it anymore, oh God.”

“Tommy wants you back. Of course.” You winced, as if the bitterness of your own venom had exploded on your tastebuds, still caressing your man absentmindedly.

“Heaven…” He lamented, hiding his face in the crook of his arm, abandoning himself to the pleasure. Arthur moved his hips, trying to thrust his length in your fist in the hope of releasing himself but it wasn’t enough. The way you stroke him kept him at the edge of climax without allowing him to reach it and it was driving him crazy. Your focus shifted back to your husband, whose legs had started to shake like leaves in the wind.

You snapped back to the present moment,“ Oh Arthur,” You purred when you realized that your poor man had reached his limits but still tried to behave himself by not throwing you on the sofa and making you pay for teasing him. Bringing your face closer to his, you laid a myriad of kisses from his scarred throat up to the corner of his mouth, his mustache pleasantly scratching the skin of your face as you did, “Cum for me like the good boy you are.” You whispered in his ear, your siren-like voice intoxicating even more and causing him to whine no matter how hard he tried to bite it down… Goosebumps adorned your body at the arousing sight of Arthur, usually tough and rough, almost crying from pleasure and frustration. A little feverish sight escaped from your mouth, your walls clenching onto nothing. It was enough: he had been good and deserved some kind of relief. Hence, you finally stroked him how he wanted to be stroked, “I’m proud of you Arthur. So proud… Cum for me, my strong and lovely husband.” Your praises definitely got everything of him. Arthur’s fingers clenched so hard on the blanket that he almost tore it. He arched his back and the gravel in his voice chanted your name on repeat like he never did for any women, whores, or good girls, like a preacher imploring the mercy of his divinity. One minute later his cock throbbed in your palm before he finally released the tension in hot spurts of milky ropes in both your hand and your thighs. With a little satisfied smirk, you brought your fingers to your mouth and licked his release while looking at your shaking man.

“Christ…” He let out a long sigh, his body collapsing back on the sofa. The arm with which he hid his face fell limp after he tucked himself back in his trousers. Left as a panting mess, Arthur was trying to catch his breath while his half-closed eyes were still staring at you with a blissed-out gleam in their magnificent blue irises. But that extraordinary post-sex peace had to come to an end: the worst part of the discussion was awaiting. Arthur moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, stars still dangling in his vision, and, without the slightest warning, pulled you in a strong hug. His arms wrapped around you, pressing your ribs so hard you almost suffocated: He was afraid. Fucking afraid to lose you, “You need to stay here. Safe and sound.”

“Sorry?” You suddenly exclaimed, lowering your gaze toward him to ensure you understood correctly what he just said, “That’s absolutely out of question, Arthur. I’m coming with you back to Birmingham. We’ll go through this shit together and we’ll be back in our forest as soon as possible.” You said, your fingers gently fondling his neck.

“No, love.” His hoarse voice, rendered raspier by the orgasm he had, retorted with a bit more authoritative tone as he regained his composure.“Ye ain’t coming with me. It’s too dangerous. Trust me, I’d love too but I would forgive myself if Changretta would hurt you.”

“Are you kidding me? I can’t let you go alone and risk your life,” Panic had already started to kick in at that idea, twisting your guts and accelerating your heartbeat. Who will take care of him if you weren’t by his side? As the one who had pulled the trigger, you were more than aware that Arthur was probably the first name underlined in red on that Changretta’s list, “You know I can be useful. Arthur please.”

“I’ll be back very quick, love.” Arthur tried to reassure you, but parting from him was far too painful for you to agree with him, "I'll be back soon and we'll have a little one together right? The perfect couple…" The corner of his mouth stretched in a tender and soothing smile right before he crashed his lips against yours. You kissed him back but it did not made you feel better. Quite the contrary. Shaken by his decision, you sighed and moved away from him. Despite his attempt to hold you back, you still managed to break his embrace and walked towards the window, wrapping your arms around your own tiny frame to hug you.

Arthur bit his knuckles, frustrated by the whole situation, and utterly in pain for you had just rejected him. After a short while, he got up from the sofa and joined you near the window, his hands still weak, “Listen. You gotta trust me. I don’t want to be away from you either — God knows I’m already scared of withering without your heavenly presence and your arms around me neck. But I can’t risk losing ye. I would fookin’ die, I swear would. I want you to stay safe here, guarded by Kaiser and by the forest, rather than with me at the mercy of these Italians. If you come with me they’ll assault you… Because of me. Because yer me wife.” Arthur explained in a slow and distinct voice, his feathery fingers rearranging one of your white strands of hair. Tears blurred your vision at his words — since your wedding there hadn’t been one day you’d been away from each other more than a few hours, hence the overwhelming misery you felt that such a plan. , “Look at me,” He asked, gently grabbing your arm to make you spin. His hands, big and calloused, cupped your face, “Heaven,” he dived into your fleeing eyes, from which crystal tears were rolling down your pearly white cheeks, “Everything’s gonna be fine, ey.”

You slowly nodded, defeated. “Tout ira bien.” You repeated in French, looking at him with the most heartbreaking pout he had ever seen. In truth, you were trying to convince yourself more than actually believing it. Your little fists clenched discreetly —and they clenched so hard that your knuckles turned white.

No, it was not going to be fine.

Definitely not.

Snuggling in one of Arthur’s shirts, you buried your nose in the collar to smell the musky and reassuring perfume of your husband. A frustrated growl escaped from your juicy lips. You were sitting on the wooden floor in front of the fire, hugging your knees against your chest as you watched the flames die in the hearth. Only two weeks had passed since Arthur’s departure for Birmingham and you were already at the edge of the abyss, ready to fall into a pit of madness. Locked up here between the walls of your own house, you feel estranged from your home, trapped in a doorless maze. Just like a wonderful Siberian tigress in a zoo, you were spending your day pacing back and forth in the living room under Kaiser’s saddened and worried eyes, before collapsing on the floor or the nearby sofa. Devoured by anxiety and another frightful gut feeling no one was there to listen to, you usually ended up rolling in a ball with the guard dog’s big wet snout poking you in a desperate attempt to cheer you up. How could you carry on with your life when your soulmate was far away from you, hunted down by a whole mafia whose every member wanted to see him dead? No matter the protective spells you had cast upon Arthur, you could not help but give in to panic. After all, he was the only one you had. And you were quite unfortunate considering how every people you had truly loved always tended to end up dead and cold, six feet under.

Giving one last kiss on Kaiser’s head, you got up from the floor and went to the small silvery cigarette case that was on the coffee table. You slipped a cigarette between your plump lips and lit it up, immediately taking a long puff in the hope of calming your nerves. As the nicotine burnt your throat and lungs, you felt your nervousness alleviating a tiny bit. I should not be here, you thought, I should be by his side. These were the words that were playing on repeat in your head. In your rambling, your mind focused on Thomas Shelby, whose past mischiefs made you believe he was the only one responsible for your role —or rather for your non-role— in this new war against the Italians. Even if Arthur did not tell you anything about it, you knew he had managed to fill your man’s mind with the idea that you’d be safer here only because he did not want you back in Birmingham. That son of a bitch — he was well aware that he had to get rid of you if he wanted Arthur to behave like his dog. You let out a furious cloud of smoke from your nostrils.

As it as been the case before Thomas had sent you all in jail, your sharp witch instincts were ringing emergency alarms in your very soul. Your chest tightened at the sudden boiling rage that coursed through your veins. How ridiculous that was? You were stuck here, completely useless, as Arthur, John, Polly, and Ada were all facing unnamable dangers. Pressing your lips tight around the cigarette, you pinched your nose to calm your nerves. That was at the moment you had almost managed to calm down a little bit that one of the living room windows crashed in hundreds of little sharp shards of glass. The cacophony of it made Kaiser jump before he immediately reacted by rushing near the gaping window and aggressively barking at the outside darkness: the beast hundred pounds Cane Corso was ready to tear throats to protect you. With a pounding heart and eyes wide open, you looked at in the distance: All you could see was a car’s headlights located at the bottom of the hill, but they quickly disappeared when the driver left the place with haste.

“Putain!” You whispered, cigarette still hanging in your mouth and one hand pressed against your chaotic heart. What the hell had happened? Still shaking from the shock, you looked at all around you and noticed the huge brick that had been thrown at the window. However, what stirred your panic was not the tool of the mischief itself but rather the letter that was tied to it with barbed wires. You did not wait any longer and grabbed it, untying the letter without minding the small cuts the wire left on your skin. As you opened it, your crimson blood drenched the fabric of the paper in dozen of stains.

To Arthur Shelby’s whore,

If you think you are safe hidden here in the wild you are utterly wrong. We haven’t forgotten about you, and despite the fact you are outside of our economic interests, you evil witch have to pay for Father Hughes and Simon Conrad’s death.

We have understood from your past crimes that you are a great advocate of retributive justice so here comes the other side of the coin. Hereby, we wish to inform you that we will come for you one day. You can hide. You can run. But you won’t escape us.

In the meantime, check twice under your bed, in your closet and behind you, because we are the shadow that follows you. Also be sure that if the Mafia does not succeed in killing Arthur Shelby, we will.

Every witch can burn,

Your heart missed a beat so big you felt dizzy. The letter slipped from your wounded fingers and fell on the floor. You took the cigarette out of your mouth and, instinctively stubbed it out on the back of your wrist without the slightest wince for it was the only thing you had found to calm yourself down. The crackling sound of burning flesh echoed in the room as the red-hot ashes marked your delicate and immaculate porcelain skin with a black and red circle. The pain, vivid and stingy, did not seem to bother you though, judging by the way your face remained absolutely neutral: the truth was the burning of your wrath outmatched the one on your flesh. No matter Thomas’ orders and Arthur’s worries, you had made up your mind: you were going back to Birmingham, and you were going to make the whole city shatter and shake at your fingertips if that was what you needed to do to retrieve your peaceful life.

If all of Birmingham was afraid of Arthur Shelby more than anything, it was only because they had never seen the fury of his wife.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader

#Watch out Birmingham Heavens about #Arthur needs his Angel in disguise #Incredible series #Shark❤️#A must read!#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #arthur shelby #Heaven shelby #arthur shelby x oc

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macchiatosdumptruck · 2 years ago

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Annoyed that my terrible brain can’t just leave porn scenarios as porn and I keep thinking too much about the housekeeping logistics omega!Daniel would have to do raising a family with the cobras. Good thing all these boys are rich because the space needed alone! Also, the idea of people finding it either weirdly sweet or completely scandalous over the Cobras all sharing parenting duties and not seeming too concerned about sticking to “their” kid (the implication of them not knowing/caring to know…). I lost many hours down in researching polyandry in various cultures, help me just enjoy the idea of Daniel spending the better part of a decade pregnant than not in peace.

That's me though!! Like, I think my turn around on prompts is usually pretty quick, but I'll start free writing a few paragraphs of smut and then be like "okay but WHY is this happening? " And then I need to come up with an entire backstory.

I've decided to accept the fact that it's just my process.

Ugh. Like, I imagine it's kind of how polyamory is considered now. People are aware of it but most are still judgmental. I also assume that traditional alpha roles would call for more hands off parenting.

So not only would so many alphas sharing one omega be a scandal because people can't get wrap their heads around so many alphas co existing without massive dick measuring contests, but also because they take care of another alpha's pups?

Is that not emasculating?

The abo equivalent of red pill reddit bros would lose their shit.

Daniel probably gets slut shamed a lot.

I imagine alpha/alpha relationships are considered taboo because it "goes against nature."

The boys get so tired of having to explain that it's not a big deal to share an omega, because they were already basically a bonded pack. They're a family.

The fact that Daniel also probably works when he's not on maternity leave makes people go 👀👀👀

Because why can't his MANY alpha's take care of him. The answer is that of course they can, but Daniel would get bored being the stay at home type. He loves his kids. He wants to sbe there for them, but he's not about to pick up after fully grown alphas all day.

So, yeah, conceivably, we're in a universe where Johnny never lost or refused his step dad's money. The other cobras are all mostly well off as well.

(I envision Dutch as working class.)

Sidenote: can you imagine how spoiled those kids would be? Having so many grandparents?

They must make quite a scene when they go out as a group. The strong scent of an entire pack of alphas mingling with the sweet scent of a VERY well bred omega.

Bobby is pushing a stroller with their 2 year old in it. Daniel has a baby on his hip while also being visibly pregnant. Tommy is tiredly holding a child leash for their eldest who is in that "I must cause mischief and mayhem" phase between toddler and child.

I imagine Johnny probably sired the first child because there was a short time when they were pretending to bean average alpha/omega pair.

The rest of them, they're not sure who the father's are because they share Daniel's heat.

A few years down the line they get paternity tests just out of curiosity and maybe that's when someone realizes they haven't had their proper turn.

And Daniel would look so young! Imagine 90's Ralph, in his 30's not looking old enough to even have that many children and it turns out that they did start young, but he just has that baby face.

Omg. Daniel with the reputation of being a milf. The kids would hate that.

But anyways, some smutty headcanons under the cut.

Imagine what a cum slut Daniel would become. Other omegas look at him and wonder how he even does it, share five alphas. He's so used to having a load in him that his body starts to go through withdrawals if he doesn't get one.

There are times when Daniel spends his lunch break calling on one of his alpha's to give him his fix.

The secret is hard work and determination. 😉luckily for every one involved Daniel has a high sex drive because there's not a day that goes by where he doesn't have someone in/on him. The only time he doesn't is when he's resting up between births.

(maybe alphas only knot during ruts)

Let's make up some fake abo science.

Let's say alphas and omegas can go into ruts/heats up to four times a year, and that there can be pseudo-heats and ruts outside of their natural scheduling if they are paired with a particularly compatible partner.

Five alphas times four ruts a year equals 20 ruts per year, of which Daniel will be in heat for at least four of them.

😳

Let's say that a rut lasts three to five days. That at minimum makes him more or less bed bound for 60 days a year.

He's constantly producing milk as a result of continually being pregnant/breastfeeding for the better part of a decade. So I assume at least a few of the Cobras have a thing for his swollen tits.

Imagine one of the Cobras going into rut and triggering someone else to go into rut. Which triggers Daniel to go into heat.

Daniel is getting filled in every hole (mouth, pussy, ass,) and the other two alphas are getting each other off and then rubbing it into Daniel's skin.

Of course that doesn't happen every time. Sometimes it's nice and gentle one on one. Sometimes it's just two at a time.

The cobras are perfectly capable of keeping each other occupied.

I can only imagine what it would be like if all five alphas had a rut at the same time. Daniel wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a solid week and a half.

One of their favorite ways to fuck Daniel double penetrating him, having Daniel sit on one of their laps with his back to their chest and another in between his spread legs that are being held open. Sitting on a dick, whining and grinding into it while one of his alphas is fucking his cunt.

This is a favorite because the two alphas can kiss this way, and can scent Daniel at the same time.

I wonder how many of them would work, one of they might be a stay at home alpha.

#lawrusso #dutchiel #all the other ship names #daniel x cobras #daniel and the seven evil exes #children look away #a nonny mouse #and i say yet again does any of this make sense brain fog lol

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

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I'm sorry for adding on to your pile of requests but I just wanted some family fluff with sbi where all of the siblings are having fun on a road trip or vacation

I don't know if that's specific enough for you if you want a little more detail maybe they're just being really dumb and making stupid videos with each other because that's something my sister and I do a lot

(A/N): I hope you don’t mind that I added Kristin and Tubbo (BASED ON THE CHARACTERS, NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE). Real life AU btw (no covid tho)

Okokok so this is deadass something Philza and Kristin is both dreading and looking forward to

1. They love spending time with their family especially now since yall are getting older and don’t spend as much time together anymore/getting ready to fly the coop

2. Have you met the SBI fam? Chaos incarnated.

After packing, yall set out on your trip to the hotel yall rented for a week or so (about an eight hour drive away from the house)

You and your twin Tommy 100% smuggle Tubbo underneath all of the luggage and a blanket

You’ll just ask them for forgiveness when you’re about halfway through

It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission

Wilbur and Technoblade catching you hiding the stowaway and blackmailing you both into doing their chores for a few week

Seating: Phil and Kristin in the front, Tech and Wil in the middle, You and Tommy in the back, and Tubbo in the trunk (it’s a mom van)

Before getting too far into the trip, a gas station is raided for snacks and drinks

Philza raising a brow at the amount of food you and Tommy get

Philza’s eyes were torn off from the refrigerator in front of him by his wife lightly nudging him. Looking at her in question, she raised her eyebrows and pointed at their youngest kids. It looked like they were just looking at the Monster drinks, so why- oh god the last thing he needed was two already hyper teenagers hopped up on Monster trapped in a car for eight hours. Before he could go over there to stop them, Kristin grabbed his arm.

“They’re up to something. Listen to what they’re saying.”

He strained his ears to hear what you both are whispering to each other. “...e like this flavor?”

Tommy shrugged, “I dunno. I’ll text him.”

As Tommy texted someone, Phil looked back at his wife. She wore a similar wary expression as they both stared at each other. He nodded in confirmation, “definitely. How do you reckon we confront them?”

He watched as his wife thought for a moment before she sighed and looked at him with a hint of excitement in her eyes, “let’s wait to see. It might be a pleasant surprise.”

“What? Are you mad?” He eyed his youngest gremlins once more. It seemed that they finally decided on a flavor and are now moving on to the snack portion. He looked back at his wife and felt his heart skip a beat at the small grin on her face. “...fine. Let’s just see what they’re doing after they do it.” Oh, the things he does for love.

He kept a very close eye on you two after that

You both are on your phones for longer than usual

Texting Tubbo so that he wasn’t lonely

Tubbo has fun with hiding too, never being bored at all

The only thing that he (and you and Tommy) struggled with was holding in his laughter

You jumped as you felt someone gently slap your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Tubbo’s hand peeking over the backs of the seats. You glanced at your parents in the front seats, they were deep in conversation. Good. You saw Tommy stifle a laugh and pull out his phone to record.

Tubbo made grabby hands at something but you didn’t know what he wanted, so you decided to mess with him a bit. Smirking, you put your earbuds in his hand. It snaked back underneath the blanket before he threw it back at you and did more intense grabby hands. You put your metal water bottle in his hand. He did the same thing before he threw it back at you. It collided with your forehead with a loud bong sounding throughout the car. Tommy started to laugh loudly and ended the video. You followed suit in the laughter as Tubbo’s hand froze midair and quickly slinked back into his lair.

All noise in the car came to a halt as they all looked behind them (well, Phil glanced through the rearview mirror suspiciously) to see you and Tommy laughing your asses off with you holding your forehead. Through blurred vision, you could see Kristin looking at you with worry and Techno and Wilbur looking confused and mildly annoyed.

“(Y/n) honey are you alright? What happened?” You opened your mouth to respond, but only wheezes came out making you laugh harder. You could hear Tubbo silently cackling to himself in the back, the blanket shaking slightly. Without being able to speak, you only nodded your head and gave her a thumbs up.

Tommy sent the video into the siblings' group chat and you could see over Wilbur’s shoulder as he watched it before starting to cackle and save the video to his phone. Even Techno got a good chuckle out and saved it to his phone making Phil and Kristin even more suspicious. Well, Kristin was just excited for what you two (four? Was Techno and Wilbur in on it as well?) had planned. Phil could just imagine the chaotic things you had planned. And he did not like what came to his mind.

When the rest stop came eventually (about three hours into the trip), you all left the car to stretch your legs and take care of business

Taking separate ways to walk in pairs (same person they sat next to in the car)

You and Tommy wait until Phil and Kristin leave before getting Tubbo out of the trunk

You three vibe walking along the winding sidewalks for a bit before you come back to the car and get Tubbo back into the trunk

You, however, forgot to use the bathroom so you leave Tommy and Tubbo in the car

“Fuck, I forgot to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Be quick, I’m not fuckin telling em if we forget you.”

“Pfft, they won’t forget me. Stop joking around.”

With that, you left the car and made a beeline to the bathroom. After that, you went back to the car. Well, where the car was supposed to be. There was no sight of a van anywhere in the parking lot. That asshole, he just let them drive off? He and Tubbo’s probably giggling to themselves in the backseat like school girls. You were only gone for like eight minutes.

Sighing, you walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, pulling up Techno’s contact and calling him.

He picked up after a few rings. The second you heard the dial tone stop, you spoke to him, “check the backseat.”

“What? You’re taking a nap, why’re you calling me I’m literally right in front of you.”

“Just fuckin check, Tech.”

In the background, you could hear Tommy snickering to himself. You heard some rustling before Techno started laughing, “Dad, we left (y/n) at the rest stop.”

“YEAH YA FUCKIN DID!”

You could hear loud laughter from your brothers and muffled cursing from Phil. You heard Kristin tell Techno to hand her the phone.

“We’re so sorry, we’re turning around right now. We’ll be there in about five minutes. Stay in one place and don’t talk to strangers.”

“I dunno Mom, that trucker looks really friendly. Might do some hitch hiking with him.”

You ended up befriending an old lady when she sat next to you on the bench with her husband. She even gave you some butterscotch and those strawberry hard candies that all older people somehow have but you can never find in stores. Her husband was telling you stories about his younger days when you saw the familiar van pull into the parking lot. Waving goodbye, you thanked them and hopped back into the car.

After profuse apologizing from your family and scolding Tommy for tricking them, you were on the road again. You glared at Tommy with a small smile on your face, “you fuckin prick. Did you seriously make it look like I was sleeping under a blanket?”

“Yeah, I told you that I wouldn’t tell them if we forgot you.”

“You fuckin dick,” you grabbed a few butterscotches and strawberry candies and handed some to Tubbo after ensuring your parents weren’t looking. He took them gratefully and quickly. You heard him whisper a ‘thank you’ and opened them with plastic crinkling.

“Wha- are those butterscotches? Gimme some.” He was about to snatch them out of your hands before you moved away from him. “No, you left me at the rest stop. You don’t get any. Do you guys want some? I’ve got butterscotches and strawberry candies.”

After you handed them out to your family, Phil looked at you confused in the rearview mirror, “(y/n), where’d you get these?”

“Oh, I just made some friends with an old couple while I was waiting.”

“You what? What if they kidnapped you?”

“Naw they couldn’t’ve. Ethel has hip problems and Charles was in a wheelchair. They were chill anyway.”

“...Just- just don’t do that again.” “Well don’t forget me again at a rest stop three hours away from home and you got yourself a deal.”

After a while the family was chill again and everything was back to normal

It was getting closer and closer to when Tubbo would make his reveal

You three agreed that Tubbo would just wait for the perfect time

That time came about three hours later when Phil and Kristin was asking everybody where they should stop for food

“So kids, we have three options: McDonalds, Wendy’s, and Arby’s. What do you want?”

“Wendy’s is obviously the superior choice.” Tommy proclaimed and you nodded in agreement. You leaned back and whispered to Tubbo, “now would be a great time.” You pulled out your phone to discreetly record the front seat.

“No it isn’t. Arby’s is you heathens.” Wilbur chimed in, glancing at his twin for back up. Techno shrugged, “I’m fine with anything as long as it’s edible.”

“I’m more of a fan of Wendy’s myself!” Tubbo’s muffled voice chimed in from his makeshift hut in the trunk. You snickered as Kristin whipped her head around to look at the back seat and Phil’s eyes snapping up to look at you through the rearview mirror.

“...Tubbo?”

“Hi Mrs. Tommy and (y/n)’s mum!” You flipped the camera around just in time to catch Tubbo poking his head out of the blanket and grin sheepishly at them. You panned over to Tommy’s ruby red face as he was holding in his laughter before flipping it back to the front.

“You absolute gremlins, this is what you’ve been hiding?” Phil scolded you and Tommy, his knuckles whitening from gripping the steering wheel. You could see his shoulders bouncing slightly with a slight strain in his voice from holding in chuckles.

“Honey, have you been in the trunk this entire time?”

“Yeah, but it’s quite comfy back here! Tommy and (y/n) gave me pillows and some snacks. Got some stretching done at the rest stop.”

“You’ve been back there for six hours?” Phil’s incredulous voice asked.

“Yep! Don’t worry, I had a lot of room. Anyways, my vote goes to Wendy’s.”

The car was quiet before Kristin started to laugh, “Wendy’s it is. See Phil, I told you it was gonna be a pleasant surprise!”

Tubbo sat between you and Tommy in the backseat for the rest of the trip

Techno and Wilbur saying that they knew Tubbo was back there but left out the blackmail part

There was no way they’d risk losing their little siblings doing their chores for them for a few weeks

At the hotel, the rooming was the same as the seating in the car

You, Tommy, and Tubbo having the time of your lives alone in your hotel room

Jumping on the beds, checking for hidden cameras and double sided mirrors (well, that doesn’t sound fun, but you had fun doing it), truth or dare, racing each other down the halls at night time, the works

B L A N K E T F O R T S (but always cleaning up the hotel room in the mornings bc yall are respectful to the staff)

Getting plenty of videos of you guys ding dong ditching Techno and Wilbur’s room

Them getting tired of it so they tell Dadza and Momza and they tell you to stop : (

Walking around aimlessly around the hotel hallways with Wilbur and Techno

Going up and down elevators aimlessly

Pulling an all nighter with Tommy and Tubbo on the last day

Philosophical late night talks when yall hardly know what you’re saying anymore (and becoming closer than ever before)

“Tommy, Tubbo?” You three were currently sitting on the balcony chairs looking out at the empty parking lot and the occasional cars driving by. It was about three in the morning and you guys were determined to stay up all night. “If you think about it, a hotdog is puréed meat in an intestine casing. When we eat the hotdogs, we turn it back into puréed meat. It eventually goes through your intestines which makes you the hotdog for a solid couple of hours.”

“...What the fuck, (y/n).”

“No no, they’ve got a point. Don’t you understand, Tommy? We are hotdogs.”

“...I’m starting to think you guys need sleep. Speakin nonsense.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you two reckon we’re alone in the universe?”

“What do you mean, Tubbo?” You glanced at the male next to you and raised an eyebrow. He was looking up at the stars with furrowed brows.

“Like, do you guys think there’s life out there. Looking down at us right now wondering the same thing.”

You hummed and looked up at the stars. They were twinkling down at you with the occasional shooting star blazing by. Red lights from far off satellites being the only visible sign of humans in the dark expanse of space. “I think so. I mean, nobody knows how big the universe is. You never really know.”

“Honestly I don’t know what’s scarier, being the only lifeforms and being completely alone or having things out there that we don’t know about.”

You sling an arm over your twin’s shoulders, “that doesn’t matter. As long as we have each other, we’ll never be alone. We’ll face whatever the universe has in store for us together.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know, I just hate it when people only see me as the loud annoying one. It really gets to me sometimes and I don’t know what I should do about it. Fuck, even Wil and Tech see me like that.”

“Toms, fuck them. They don’t know you like we do. You’re caring, ambitious, and brave.”

“Yeah, don’t listen to what they say. We’ll prove them wrong when we form our own nation one day.”

Tommy’s sullen expression slowly melted into a smile, “yeah, I’d like that. You’d be the president.”

Tubbo grinned back at Tommy, “and you’ll be my trusty vice president and (y/n)’ll be our Secretary of State. We’ll rule together.”

“Our nation would be a place for people to escape tyranny and injustice. Somewhere where men could live free, you two would be amazing leaders.”

“What do we call it though is the question,” Tubbo hummed in thought.

“How about ‘Manberg’?”

You looked at your twin with half lidded, exhausted eyes, “I like it, but it needs more… pizazz. How about L’manberg?”

You watched as he smiled widely at the stars, “it’s perfect.”

Watching the sunrise together on the balcony wrapped in blankets

Sleeping on the rest of the way back home

Best sleep of your life

When you wake up (about an hour or so away from home), you see that there’s blankets over you three and you had your head on Tubbo’s shoulder, Tubbo had his leaned up against the seat behind him, and Tommy’s cheek was squished against the window

You stretch out your limbs a bit trying not to disturb the two beside you

Checking your phone to see pictures of you three sleeping sent into the family group chat with Kristin replying with a bunch of heart emojis

You send the videos and pictures you took along the way of you, Tommy, and Tubbo doing stupid things in the hotel room and in the car

If you looked in the middle row, you could see Wilbur watching the scenery pass by out the window with his earbuds in

Techno is reading one of his books (you have no idea how he doesn’t get car sick)

Phil and Kristin are talking lowly to each other holding hands on the center counsel

Soft radio music is playing in the background

Life is good

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur @nottheotheruser

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #momza x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #requests #hellion's requests #1k special #hellion's 1k special #tw: swearing

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stagemanagerssaygo · 5 years ago

Text

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

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