#Ink rings pt 1

[mattslolita]

she - c. & m. sturniolo ( 001. )

in which . . . the new girl down the street catches the attention of two brothers who grow infatuated with her.

( ghostface!chris x black!fem!reader x ghostface!matt )

warnings ; black!bimbo!fem!reader , ghostface!chris , ghostface!matt , obsessive!chris & matt , blood , gore , knives , mentions of death , eventual smut , threesome

"o𝒏𝒆, 𝒕𝒘𝒐, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕."

pt. 1, 2, 3, 4 💌

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆

it all went downhill in the small town of somerville when you moved in — down the street, the third house on the right side of the street. you'd been carrying boxes up towards the front door, your pretty pink bow holding back your dark hair in a high ponytail. you beamed, dimples accentuating as your brown skin glimmered in the sunlight that casted down on you.

you were unaware of the lingering eyes of two brothers, their gazes locked on you for what felt like forever. it wasn't until your eyes had unintentionally found theirs, your lips curling up into a soft smile as you lifted one hand in the air, the wind blowing past your mini skirt as you waved your freshly manicured nails at the two.

matt sturniolo stood dumbfounded for a few moments, but chris sturniolo was quick to wave back ever so slightly, a grin spreading across his freckled face as he licked his lips. matt eventually snapped out of his trance, waving back to you. you were a little confused on why they had stared at you for so long, your big, brown eyes widening curiously as you stared at them for a bit longer. you bat your long eyelashes before humming, continuing to move the boxes into your new room.

and that's how it started.

that day, matt and chris just knew they had to have you — and they would do anything to have you, at all costs. they brainstormed, planned, and came up with the perfect solution. they followed every path you took throughout the town, found out every little detail about you and what things you liked and disliked. it was quite easy to do really, you were so unsuspecting, didn't have a single clue about their intentions. you always pranced around with a bubbly smile, batting your eyelashes and saying your 'pleases' and 'thank yous'. they found it adorable, really — you were so clueless. matt and chris had done everything in their power to perfect their plan, making sure nobody got in the way of it.

one night, you were laying back in your back, a book your sight of interest as your wide eyes roved over the pages with inked paragraphs. you were so nose deep in the book, you had hardly looked up from it.

( if you did, you would've noticed chris sturniolo peering into your room, from the side of your window, in the bushes — even doing something as simple as reading a book, you looked oh so beautiful in your element. )

you were so wrapped up in the book's events, that the ringing of your landline had almost gone unnoticed by you — it rang eerily, causing you to gasp slightly as you slammed the book down, looking around your room in a startled manner.

your eyes swiftly traveled to the landline on your bedside desk, the phone still ringing — you let out a sigh of relief, hand on your chest as you picked the phone up from its stand.

at first, nothing but silence was on the other line — you could've sworn you heard breathing, almost like the person was waiting for you to speak. "hello?"

"hello."

it caught you off guard — the voice was deep, almost unnatural but something about the unnerving voice had an attraction to it. whoever it was was completely unfamiliar to you, yet you found yourself fully intrigued by the prospect of it.

"um, who's this?" your voice squeaks, nails tapping against your bare thighs in anticipation.

"i'm whoever you want me to be," the voice purrs back huskily, causing you to bite your lip as your eyes widen intently, "what's your name?"

you knew it was wrong, telling a complete stranger your name — you had no idea who this person was! yet against your better judgement, curiosity gets the best of you as you lean forward, lips curling into a small smile. "i'm y/n."

"y/n," he repeats, a small chuckle sounding from the other line, "pretty name for i bet an even prettier girl."

this makes you giggle slightly — it's music to chris's ears, he could listen to the sweet sounds for the rest of his days. and soon, he would.

"so stranger," you giggle unsuspectingly, toying with the phone's cord around your fingers, "why is it that you're calling a random stranger like me this late at night?"

"i've got a question for you, pretty girl," he says into the receiver, posing your interest as you hum, "what's your favorite scary movie?"

───

you hadn't told anyone about the phone call you got that night — you especially didn't want to startle your parents on your first day of senior year, because you felt ashamed.

see, you enjoyed the conversation with the stranger, much more thank you should have. you liked scary movies, a lot. it was wrong of you to be talking to someone you don't know, and it was even all the more embarrassing to find yourself waiting for yet another phone call from this mysterious man.

you were as clueless as the day they had seen you when you moved in — your eyes darted around the unfamiliar campus, nose scrunched in concentration as you tried to figure out were you needed to go and where your classes were.

you hadn't been paying any attention when you collided with a hard chest — a small gasp leaves your lips, apologies ready to spill from you as you timidly scooted back from them.

"i'm so sorry! i'm new here, and-"

"s'okay, darling," a voice tells you, his hand going to your waist as he steadies you upright, "y'got no idea where you're goin', do ya?"

you look up and meet four pair of blue eyes staring down at you, grins plastered on their faces as you examine their features — the one who had been speaking to you had middle parted hair, tousled across his forehead messily. he wore a plain white tee, a silver horse chain dangling from his neck as a few rings littered his hand. you were nothing short of mesmerized by him, and you felt your cheeks grow hot under his gaze.

the other brother looked exactly identical, save for the freckles that were scattered across his face — his sharp cheekbones were prominent as he licked his lips and grinned down at you, causing you to smile shyly. a beanie covered the unruly mop of brown curls on his head and a silver chain was on his wrist. both brothers were so handsome, and you had only just stopped staring once the brother with the beanie cleared his throat.

an embarrassed giggle leaves your lips as you hold the paper to your chest. "s-sorry again, that's my bad. i'm-"

"y/n," the ring-clad brother finishes quickly, causing your eyebrows to furrow as his brother nudges him slightly, "yeah, heard a lil' about you when you got to the office this morning. i'm matt."

"an' i'm chris," his younger brother states, nodding towards you, "let me see that, yeah?"

"sure," you squeak, holding the paper out to him for him to take.

matt watches as you readjust the pink skirt you're wearing, his eyes then roving over your breasts that sit firmly with the white, cropped shirt you're wearing along with it. like that day, a pink bow accessorizes your dark hair that's pulled back into a bun, showing your pretty dark skin against the daylight. gosh, matt could stare and stare at you for hours.

"alright kid, looks like y'got business math, spanish, an' english with me an' matt," chris announces with a grin, handing your paper back to you.

"you wan' spend the day with us, angel?" matt asks you with a grin, causing your cheeks to warm up.

the nickname catches you off guard, but you wanted to hear it fall from his lips over and over again. "mhm," you nod up at him, eyes wide as you beam.

"good girl," chris purrs, casually throwing his arm over your shoulder as he begins leading the way. matt walks with you on the other side, eyes occasionally darting to you.

it should've raised eyebrows and you should've questioned how quick matt and chris wanted to keep you under their wing — the way from that day forward, they monitored everything you did and everywhere you went.

you were oblivious to the obvious obsession they had blossoming for you.

( kiwi's corner 🥝💌 )

new series, yeahhhh😫😫. had this hoe BREWINGGG okay like i have everything planned out, i just need to write it ! this is based on a dream i had ab matt & chris and i couldn't get it out of my head & it was making me a horny mess. 🤭 anyways angels, i hope you all enjoy this! i love you forever muah, thank you so much for 3k. 💌

taglist🥝 : @muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @luverboychris @cottoncandyswisherz @chanelles-world

@sturnprime @middlepartmatt @chrissturniolossidehoe @sturniqloo @chaossturns

@fairyrcts @mbbsgf @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d @oliviasturniolo21

@wh4re4chratt @cyberdre4ms @angvlarabella @pvssychicken @lovesturni0l0s

@delilahsturniolo @venusxsturnio @chrissystur @sweetangelgirl7 @wovenribbons

@chrispotatos @chrissystur @jetaimevous @55sturn @yn-ws

[staticbleeding]

⛧°。 ⋆Waiting on the Stars ⋆°⛧

+:｡.｡　teen Stanford Pines x gn reader　｡.｡:+

Part 3 is here y'all!! I'm tempted to keep a majority of the story in Ford's POV. Let me know what y'all think! warnings : strong language, suggestive language, the usual teen shit pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

1972 What happens when Ford's chance to ask you out is right in front of him? Will he grab it and run? Or will his time run out?

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Ford's POV

"Hello?"

What do I say? God their voice is so pretty. Do I hang up? No that's creepy.

Thoughts race through my head. Fear and anger crashes over my body like waves. Finally the reality hits, I need to say something.

"H-Hi (Y/N)?" I stutter out finally.

"Ford? Hey! How'd you get my number?" Their voice rings in my ears as a blush raises throughout my face.

"Stan. He saw you left your notebook in class today and let me call to tell you..I promise I didn't look through it at all! Just your..number." I feel myself mentally cringing at how creepy all of this could sound.

"Oh shit. I didn't even notice! Thank you!" They laugh and thank me, I feel my heart begin to beat faster. Not out of fear or anxiety, but of something else.

"Oh it's nothing! Just..buddies looking out for each other...not assuming we are buds or anything! Just a phrase..yeah phrase." I say and look up seeing Stan shaking his head and laughing. A silent glare is directed at him.

"Of course we are! Looking out for each other. Speaking of which, um would you like to meet up sometime this weekend so I can get it back? Not like a date or anything." I hear their voice quiet down at the last part. My heart tightens up and my stomach drops.

"SO like a date?! Oh he would LOVE to honey! I'll make sure he dresses all fancy for ya. Flowers and all! I like you already! He will pick you up tomorrow at 7 alright?" My mother's voice rings out through the line. I turn around towards the living room and see her sitting in her usual chair with the phone in her hands. She looks up at me and blows a kiss before getting up and walking away like she didn't just say the words I have been so scared to say out loud so nonchalantly. Oh God please let the floor open up and just swallow me whole.

"A date!? Oh! Um if Ford wants it to be a date..then yeah." I hear (Y/N) say into the phone.

"Excuse her! I am so sorry! I..is a date alright? Don't feel pressured to say yes at all! It is completely understandable if not." I cover my face with my free hand and quietly say into the speaker.

"I would love a date with you Ford..." I hear them speaking but after those 8 words leave their mouth I can't focus on anything else but my heart beating faster than it ever has. This can't be real. I am going on a date with them. An actual date. With the prettiest person to ever step foot into this town!? Oh stars what if I mess this up? I feel myself start to lose my mind to worries and anxiety. Tuning out everything except my own voice.

"Do I need to tell you the address again Fordsy?" I hear their laughter I have come to love so much, slowly bring me back into reality.

"Shoot! Um sorry yeah. Wait let me get a ink pen," I run around the kitchen finding something to write it down, "Okay continue please."

Writing down every number and word they say, brings this entire thing to reality. I am going on my first date ever. Do they know this is my first date? What do they even like? Where do I acquire flowers for a date?!

"So..tomorrow at 7?" A smile coats their voice so sweetly I can't help but smile back as if they can see it.

"Yes. Tomorrow at 7. I will..see you there!" With that we say our goodbyes and hang up. Finally a steady breath finds my lungs and fills them up.

"See!? Wasn't that hard Sixer. Just needed a push." Looking up I see my brother and my ma giving each other a high five. Rolling my eyes, I watch as ma goes to look for a suit that will fit me. Stan looks at me and tells me I can use his cologne that "all the ladies love it on me, surely it can help you". I can't help but smile a little. Silently thanking them for the help. I slowly walk to my room and find myself laying in the bed I have spent countless night dreaming. Dreaming of how I can ask them out, maybe the stars heard me? If I ever visit the stars, I will have to thank them. A big smile finds its way to my face. Maybe everything will be okay.

The next few hours are spent with Ford's eyes wide open. Imagining everything that could happen. Many thoughts circle the Young man's head. 'The possibility of this date going completely perfect is slim to none' , 'What do we do?' , 'I have to impress them. make them want to do this date thing again'. Ford slowly drifts off to sleep imagining the chances of this working out. Stan creeps into the room and smiles at the twin asleep cuddling against a pillow. A smile on the older Pines brother, bigger than Stan has ever seen on the usual stoic and serious face.

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Ahh! Chapter 3! Sorry for the shorter chapter! Didn't want to put the date and the phone call all in one. Gotta stretch it out wink wink. I hope you all are as excited as I am for the date.

[jwirecs]

RECOMMENDED BTS FICS OF JULY 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my bts recs of july! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Alcohol Free || @blue-jisungs💕✅

↳ in which your best friend yoongi gets to know your secrets while you sip on various drinks. with each one, he’s more shocked… and amused.

Nothing’s Changed || @hoseokhasmyheartxx​​​​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ You and Yoongi have been best friends since college. The rest of your friend group wants to go on a couples’ trip, leaving you and Yoongi to share a room. But to your surprise, your room only has one bed… will the two of you be able to get through the week without letting the other know how you feel?

The Love Plaza || @mayolive-writes🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ Needing to take a break from the long trip to college, you and Jungkook are forced to stay at the only lodging available within 70 miles, a love motel. And much to Jungkook’s dismay, there’s only one bed.

Til You Make It || @jinkookspencil💕💔✅💯

↳ jungkook is startled when you call him in need of a favor... to play his dream role - your boyfriend - for a day...

Bet On It || @minisugakoobies🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

Lovin' You Right || @kookslastbutton🔞💕💔✅

↳ Your new badass neighbor won't leave you alone. You know the type, the guy your mama wouldn't want you bringing home. He'd break your heart as quick as he'd take it.

5+1 || @joon4eva​​​​​​💕✅

↳ five times you wanted to tell Namjoon you loved him + the one time you finally did.

Baby Fever || @95rkives💕✅💯

↳ what was supposedly a peaceful morning stroll in the park, an unexpected encounter triggers namjoon’s intense desire for a baby, turning him into an adorable, baby fever-filled mess.

Cherry Flavored || @jjksblackgf🔞✅

↳ You bet with your boyfriend that he can't handle more than five minutes of your tongue, but Jungkook never turns away from a challenge. You'll make sure to keep him in his place.

Moving In || @dreamescapeswriting💕✅

↳ (this was an anon req to the writer, short summary: yoongi leaves his stuff at oc's apartment, slowly moving in. shts too cute man)

Panties Over Pastries || @genkima💕✅

↳ you and your lovely boyfriend, Jungkook, decided to have a baking date planned for today ! I wonder how it turns out..

Spicy 'N Sweet || @thvhoe​​​​​​🔞💕💔🔄💯💯💯

↳ Jeon Jungkook is the perfect guy… to piss off your parents. He’s buff, inked up and the definition of their worst nightmare but hey, when love comes knocking on your door there’s not much you can do. It’s not like you planned on falling for him… it just kind of happened, and honestly, you're not even mad about it. Not at all.

The Boxer's Girlfriend || @i-am-baechu🔞💕💔✅

↳ Jeon Jungkook is known throughout Korea as the top boxer. He’s swift in his attacks and calculated with everything. He’s dangerous in the ring but he was also dangerous to his girlfriend, Y/N L/N. 

Cat Got Your Tongue? || @jessikahathaway🔞💕💔✅

↳ You were exhausted from schoolwork and just needed a chance to unwind. Jungkook, campus fuckboy, offers his services to help alleviate the stress from studying but is he going to cause more stress than he relieves?

Cherry || @peachypinkygloss🔞💕✅

↳ Jungkook has a crush on you and he does everything to conquer your heart (like eating your pussy whenever and wherever he feels like it).

Bunny Buns || @kittyscupcakeandbunny🔞💕💔🔄

↳ Jungkook needed to hide. He was on the run. And what better place for a bunny hybrid to hide then a Bunny coffee shop? How could he resist? You smelled sweet and looked nice. All it took was one smile of yours and a bunny bread and he was on all fours for you.

Moon || @hobeemin🔞💕✅ Pt 2.

↳ (theres no summary, and i suck at summarizing, but im a sucker for hybrid fics so that says sometime.)

Break My Mind's Eye || @flowerwrites06🔞💕✅

↳ Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal. 

Diamond Trail || @flowerwrites06🔞💕✅

↳ The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Distraction || @melancholy-of-nadia🔞✅

↳ After a series of circumstances leads you to be the assistant/right-hand woman of Bangkok's local thief/gang leader Min Suga, you're diligent in fulfilling your role in helping him take down Detective (& Underground Mafia Boss) Agust D. What you didn't expect in this role, was to catch your own boss reading p*rngraphic material during his free time and finding out there are consequences to distracting him.

Wishes || @i-am-baechu🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ After a long day of classes, Min Yoongi decides to take a break at the music hall that has become his second home. He walks in with his cigarette lit and his blank expression quickly changes when he sees a girl playing his piano. The moment their eyes meet, their lives become complicated and Yoongi blames himself for her future pain. Was the love we had honest? (i dont have a gang!au banner so its going in with the mafia!au. also yall already know im a huge sucker fore mafia/gang au's along with hybrids. its currently on going, but i know that i will be on a roller coaster while reading this series)

Devoted To Trouble || @jeonsweetpea🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world? (i dont have a spider-man!au banner, but spider!kook????? when yoongi said that this man will annoy him even at the age of 100, lord where is the lie. but also, we love a persistent & annoyingly cute man.)

For Glory || @mono-moonchilds🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ A fight to the death. No rules, no refs, and nowhere to run.

Monachopsis || @personasintro🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ after receiving unpleasant news that doesn’t allow you to grow your family, your husband comes up with an idea that unfortunately involves his brother whom he despises (wasnt too sure what au this fic would fall under but i say it goes under the parent au cause min yoongi gon be a father whether he likes it or not.)

Seven || @joonberriess🔞✅

↳ “You know night after night, I’ll be fuckin’ you right,” or: “Girl hold on my baby daddy calling again.”

Unconditionally || @rmsrkive💔🔄💯

↳ for the past three, almost four years, it has only been you and your twins after having been abandoned by your ex-boyfriend. you expected it to remain that way for the rest of your lives until one day you accidentally run into one of his bandmates at the park 

Way Back Home || @solemnreads🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ "please tell me this isn't what i think it is" he asks you with tears in his eyes. you look down at the sight of your son with an oxygen mask on his face while your daughter is sleeping on the couch near the wall. you look into his eyes, broken and sad. you've dreamt of this day for years, wondering how he would react. but here you are, hoping he could've meet the twins under different circumstances. "yes...they're your children."

Wrong Time || @spideyjimin🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company. At that exact moment, he realizes that the two of you fell in love at the wrong time but is now the right time?  

Added Color || @bangtansmaus​💕💔✅💯

↳ Yumi was perfectly fine with not finding her soulmate yet. she never really cared about the idea of soulmates. she’s fine with just running her bakery and living with her brother Jimin and their two best friends Jungkook and Taehyung.

Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[glassrowboat]

Silken Shadows (Pt.1). Pantalone.

Summary: You had many customers, many clients. Regulars even. They dragged you along to dinners, to drinks at bars as they chatted about something you couldn't care less about, and to parties of all sorts. All something that came with the job. What you weren't expecting, however, as you stood on the corner of a side walk cursing the chill in the air as you waited for the latest job to come pick you up was a Fatui Harbinger. Well, you were told it would be a big money job.

Word count: 4300+

Authors note: I'm not sure how long this is going to be, but probably less than fifteen chapters? But someone had to give this old man some love, so I took it upon myself.

Also, the reader is a hired date for anyone who needs specifications.

Link to series

Shards of glass sat around him like glistening stars as a pale light streamed in through the large windows of Pantalone's office. Nonexistent constellations were to be found in what was scattered around him in his own personal galaxy. Bits and pieces are as large as one's finger and others as tiny as diamond inlaid in a ring. The only difference being: it wasn't gold encasing a jewel that shined under every twist of the wrist as it reflected a candle's flame, but a wooden floor. One he had taken great pride in picking out once upon after first receiving this office.

Time had scratched its lacquered surface.

How typical.

Another thing he can't control. Just like the natural instinct to grit his teeth so tight, Pantalone can hear them grinding against each other in protest, crying out for some form of mercy.

It made his jaw ache. Yet his lips still twisted into a smile.

They had to.

Even if Pantalone couldn't help but want to physically recoil at his own image, his reflection in the glass at his feet. An aged label with yellowed spots attached to what was left of the bottle, an 817 vintage from Fontaine, the only thing blocking where his narrowed eyes would be in this warped copy.

All the while, one thought kept replaying in his head, repeating like a broken record slotted on a gramophone: that damnable woman.

--

Signora canceled on him.

Right before a banquet that was supposed to be quite the occasion at that.

It would have given him just the perfect chance to introduce the frosty diplomat, his fellow Harbinger, to a colleague of his. A man just as like minded as Pantalone when it comes to the exchange on mora. A fellow businessman, to put it in simple terms. Someone who also speaks in the turnover of gold from one hand to another.

A man who could prove beneficial to Pantalone had the right opportunity to familiarize himself but man but all the ‘Fair Lady’ had to say, in as arrogant sounding voice as she could muster, for that Pantalone was sure, was that she's being shipped away to Inazuma soon. For the gnosis in accordance with the last meeting's conclusion, of course.

That, however, didn't change the fact that she wasn't leaving right away.

There was time she could use, to leverage if she so wished, but now he was left with a tree that wished to bear no fruit. There would be no sweet taste of a win today, of another deal secured at this rate. What a wasted opportunity.

Not to mention, he was still expected to show up with someone on his arm in accordance with the invite marked with a check right on the box for a plus one.

All that right after La Signora didn't even bother to sit down, to go through the proper greetings and laybe even have tea with him to share this bit of information. Rather, she stormed in as Pantalone was drafting out a contract, unfortunately startling him in the process as the door slammed against the wall behind it. It was enough to have the ink scrawled out under his hand smudge as his hand curled around a black fountain pen at the idea that her uncaring actions would leave a dent in the drywall.

Surprise. It was never an emotion he cared for, but it was all he was being given today. Or at least that's how it seemed.

The floral scent of the ink he specially ordered to refill this pen the last time it emptied out from pages upon pages of tireless work that had led to an ache in his hand was the only thing to sooth Pantalone's otherwise swirling mind as he figured out where to go from here.

That here has led him to Columbina.

Her saccharine smile when he slipped into the music room was familiar, something he was as used to as a well-worn book as she held up a singular finger. Asking for one moment more.

The song on her lips quelled only when she was ready.

Besides, it would be unbefitting to ask her to stop with the nonsense already as her voice rose to the heights of the pure white room. One never cuts off the star of a stage, on or off of it. Columbina had a way of bringing the notes to life, of making any eye believe you could see the sheet music she had long since memorized to the point someone might just believe they could see those ever perfect lines of five weaving around columns all up until Columbina took her final bow.

Pink and black hair covering her face still as his hands clapped together, the metal bands wrapped around his fingers, causing a small ring each time they collided. “Wonderful as always, Damselette.”

“I am always exultant to have a proper audience.”

Her head rose from its low hang with a grace only she could have. Every action she took was akin to a bird flapping its wings to soar among the clouds. Fitting for a dove.

“As much as I would like to sit down and show you proper respect and courtesy, Columbina, I am afraid I am too short of time for such a luxury.”

The event is, after all, tonight at 8 o'clock sharp, and while Pantalone has always heard it's fashionable to arrive late, it was never a practice he appreciated others participating in. He wouldn't deign to be the outlier to such a basic rule when there was no need for such.

He didn't need to arrive late to get anyone's eyes to fall on him in rapt attention. The citizens of Snezhnaya knew what his time was worth. As for those who did participate in such boorish behaviors? Simply put, they were not worth the precious minutes that could be delegated elsewhere.

“First and foremost, are you otherwise preoccupied this evening?” Pantalone asked.

Columbina turned her back to him with ease, fingers fiddling with the sheet music before her as she scribbled something down he could not see. Not that it mattered. If it wasn't the very notes she was just singing, it would be an indent on the piece written in a language far older than he.

“Now, what would you want of me that requires I not be ‘preoccupied'?”

“That Marquess in the West, you and I both know the one, has come to the main city for a short reprieve and is holding an event.” As Pantalone spoke, he stepped further into the room, taking care not to scuff the white floors with his own black shoes. “One that does not require a show of a song, but I'm sure they would not deny it if you offered.”

A gentle series of clicks continued until he was standing beside her.

“So, you want me to act as your substitute plus one since the one you originally planned to invite canceled on you at the last minute. Is that it, Regrator?”

Her tone had Pantalone wanting to click his tongue, but he resisted the urge.

“A regretful circumstance I shall have to amend in the future. If you agree to my proposition, that is.”

“The Fair Lady truly pulled that lavish rug under you. Something I do not see often.”

Pantalone kept from looking down at her, instead keeping his eyes instead fixed on the musician's stand, his gloved finger ran over. It would be lace covered eyes and ribbons galore as usual. Nothing he hasn't seen before at every harbinger meeting or the times they cross paths through the ornate halls of the palace, most of which have him catching the sight of her scuttling into this very room.

The faintest layer of dust now coated his finger that had Pantalone itching to grab the handkerchief tucked away in his pocket to wipe it off.

The Damselette always did tend to scare the maids off.

“As stated before, I am currently lacking time. Your answer would be most appreciated.”

“Oh, right, that.” Columbina mused. “Steak dinners, champagne, maybe even chatter amongst people who are delightful company. Just like my plans for tonight with Arlecchino.”

Of course she didn't lead with that.

That means two possible options off his already lackluster list of those to invite along.

The last words Pantalone was given before he walked out with a bow of his head to the higher ranking harbinger was “I hope you find someone to fill the empty seat beside you tonight.” Only for the song to continue on like nothing happened, like nothing interrupted, like he didn't even come in at all.

He made sure to leave the door cracked open on his way out.

Sandrone was all the same, giving him a no. The only difference was she spit the words out like venom the moment his fist knocked on her workshop's door and she flung it open with a flourish, covered in oil and the finest grinds of aluminum that flew in the air. It had him cleaning his glasses off as he walked away.

Lenses punched between the fine fabric of his handkerchief as he went over what to do from here.

If it wouldn't reflect poorly on his image, Pantalone would just show up alone. Wave it off and say his date was busy. Yet here he is, arm twisted. Social expectations are truly the bind that holds us all as he couldn't simply message the Marquess on the fly with something along the lines of ‘I couldn't dain to bring a date after my plus one canceled on me.’ Signed the Ninth.

If it wouldn't come across as poor care for attention, bringing his most trusted secretary along would be a viable option. That is if that very employee wasn't a married man who was only just rambling about plans to take his partner out for dinner earlier this very day. It was their five year anniversary being married, as he recalled. He had even given the man a gift in congratulations.

The other two under his care were off dealing with some less than stellar business Pantalone couldn't afford to take them away from. At least not at this given moment in time.

Dottore would at least prove to be an entertaining option. One segment or another would likely get stuck along his side, maybe even the one with the pink bow tie, and it looks like he's ready to bite the finger off anyone who approaches.

No, best not.

Little options left. If any.

At this rate, his arm would get stiff as it's tugged and twisted into position.

Well, there's always the place a certain man, a debtor, mentioned last time. His whining was just the perfect pitch that made it hard to ignore as Pantalone's guards tore apart his shack of a house apart in an attempt at finding the funds he was due. Only a measly fifty mora that would prove no use in taking. One can not pay if they can not work as starvation tears them apart from the inside out. (or at least that's what Pantalone will say when the man stops showing up to work out of the blue). The excuse? He went to one of those houses in the area.

Exchange time for a woman's company. Nothing he hasn't heard before. Nothing he isn't familiar with. The Northland Bank served customers of all walks of life.

The name, however, was one that rang a bell in Pantalone's head. One that sold a woman's time over her body.

This is what he has been backed into? Truly?

Still, he called the guard that was stationed by the doors he just walked though, fingers snapping to get this individual's attention as Pantalone told them to find a messenger. The need to tell them to be quick about it would be nothing short of an unnecessary addition. They knew that well enough by now.

--

Steps filled the hall just as the creaking of loose floorboards did. They had long since needed to be replaced but actually getting around to hiring someone to do that had been waved off time and time again that everyone had since learned to simply live with being woken up in the middle of the night by someone trying to get a cup of water.

Loud and clear with each echo.

Making the hand that wrapped around your arm and pulled you up off the stool, just another thing you expected as a shrill voice cried out to get your attention. Scratched and broken from what was no doubt the cigarettes The Madame might as well switch out for her meals filling your ears while she jabbered about whatever had her coming to you this time.

That being: a job.

It was no wonder then why a wet rag was being shoved into your face, trying to wash- or better yet- scrub off the powder on your face. Messy blobs of green and pink having been painted on your eyelids the same way a crayon would a child's coloring book, only becoming more of a mess to handle at this treatment as your nose scrunched up as the fabric rubbed against you.

“Wash this shit off your face and give it a real try, kid. Don't know why you keep letting the bucket girl apply makeup on you.” That old hag barked out. In as good of a mood as any as she pulled her hand back to finally give your skin some reprieve. “And try to keep yourself lookin’ real good. This client has some big bucks to spend, and I don't need you messing it up like last time.”

“You always know just what to say.” You retorted as you snatched the rag away from her to wipe the eyeshadow off your face properly. Gently.

Even going so far as to lean down to get a proper view from the vanity and its cloudy mirror to make sure there wasn't a speck of makeup left.

“This ain't your usual crowd, kid, but you're going to high tail it out of here in your best dress and meet this guy two blocks from here so some carriage can pick you up.”

“Ahh, one of those guys. I'm on it. And do me a favor and don't bully the ‘bucket girl' while I'm out.”

It wasn't a surprise when the Madame threw a quick “no promises” over her shoulder as she left the room, leaving you to get ready. Brush already in hand as the door slammed shut. Most likely her doing, but you chose to think of it as a simple draft of wind as the bristles brushed through a soft pad of pink.

The same pink of the gloves you currently dawned. Fingers twitching with each passing minute to keep blood pumping through the digits you were breathing on, trying your best to keep yourself as warm as possible while standing at the usual spot for clients that needed to pick a girl up a few blocks away from the Marmeladova house.

Sure, they had their reasons, but it always came across as the clients having no sense of decorum for a freezing lady. A frozen tundra of a nation, yet they still expected you to stand on the street like a hooker trying to call in her five hundred for the night.

How charming.

Not.

It was when you were pacing back and forth, kicking up bits of powdered snow with every step, did the rolling of the carriages passing by on the street lead to one stopping right before you. Wheels turned stock still as the lines behind painted a clear path right to you. It's not an accidental pullover by some temperamental horses then. Though if you only looked, such a thought wouldn't have even crossed your mind in the first place.

A carriage with golden accents, horses with shining leather straps, a coachman in clothing that looked actually weather appropriate, and a Fatui symbol stamped right before you. Like the sign to a haunted house as the other girls drag you inside, claiming it will be fun, only for you to walk out annoyed and grouchy at the lackluster experience.

Something told you this wouldn't end that way.

A footman, or at least you assumed that's what he was when he was wearing the Fatuus emblem and one of those masks you see the soldiers wearing so openly while walking around without a single care in the world besides holding their heads high pulled the ornate door before you open.

A hand held out to help you up along the steps that had a nice coat of snow dusting them only knocked away by the heel of your boot while ducking inside the red velvet walls. Instantly, you could tell it was warmer in here from the moment you sat down. The thing probably insulated for what reason would you put yourself through the agony of the cold when you can simply buy your way out of it?

At least, that felt like a fair comparison as your eyes met those of a man you've only ever seen in the newspapers. Most of which were fished out of the trash from nicer neighborhoods to use as kindling, but that face was unmistakable.

“Lord Harbinger.” You found yourself saying as you greeted the figure before you. Your own words sounded like they were coming from another's mouth as they were drowned out by the curses flying across your mind. Faster than any bird in the sky or whizzing bullet as he greeted you back.

The shock of it all had you a reeling mess, but not enough so to miss the ice tune of Pantalone's voice as he said “A pleasure to meet you, miss.”

In the very least, this would give you a decent idea of where you stood in this dynamic.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Your hand was held out between you both on instinct, hanging there for a moment under the small lantern that lit the carriage with the curtains closed shut. Like a barrier to the outside world.

The shake was strong, sturdy, and his leather gloves did little to help you figure out anything about this man the public didn't already know.

An example being how he'd surely have a writer's bump. A man whose bread and butter is contracts surely knows how to hold a quill. How curious. Not as much, however, as the Lord Harbinger wiping his hand off on his jacket the moment yours left his. A folder occupying the other he was holding out to you.

“Read this over and try your best to memorize the names inside.”

With little to no choice otherwise, you took it from him. The folder failed to bend back under your touch as you opened it, not even when your gloved fingers rubbed the material between them as the names were run over again and again in your mind. Good quality, as he expected, as you took in the long list.

Far too long actually.

“I expect you to remember as much as you can, but I'll be there to assist you all the while.”

Your eyes flicked up to look at him, meeting his gaze over the folder. “Assist me all the while?”

“I am to be attending an event tonight. Do I need to piece out more for you, or can you truly not ascertain things for yourself?”

Something about his smile rubbed you wrong. You were once taught that if someone was truly smiling, out of joy, or some bull along the lines of being a happy person naturally, their eyes would have wrinkles creasing at the sides. His lacked that. Though it was hard to tell exactly if that was the case when they were closed.

But could a smile so freely given from a Harbinger be…? It's best not to finish that thought. He's still your client.

“Don't doubt me just yet. I haven't even had the chance to prove myself.” You said, matching his smile in turn.

“Then please, don't disappoint. First, however,” you could barely catch his eyelashes moving when the wheels started to turn again at the simple rap of his knuckles against the carriage roof.

Whatever that meant would prove little to mull over as you leaned back into the cushions.

--

You later learned that was him giving you a look, or as close to one as Pantalone could manage behind those thick spectacles of his you were tempted to break as he walked into a dress store, picked something off the rack, and stated it would be what you were going to wear tonight. No input from you, no double checking to see if it fits. Not to mention, the fabric had been irritating you from the moment it adorned your skin.

How you wanted to claim it rested upon your body like silk, but it was more like that one scratchy blanket you always get stuck with as everyone else steals the nice ones.

At the very least, it was pretty. Had a decent range of movement, too, as the Lord Harbinger dragged you along by the arm he interlocked with his as you were met with new face after face.

Some of the names you could recall reading only an hour prior, others not so much.

Giant grins.

Pretty women with ornate hair styles.

Champagne glasses.

The moment you picked one up, Pantalone plucked it from your hands and hissed as low as possible for only you to hear “I am not paying you to drink.”

This was nothing unusual, the event, that is. Pantalone is a whole other story, but you have been to many parties of all sorts during your time. This was just another rich boy party with underhanded remarks and fancy cheeses.

One that dragged on far too long for anyone's liking.

At some point during the night, you just barely caught the richest boy himself telling someone who asked about you that you were just a friend. One that he met through your father, a fellow businessman he had worked with shortly before the man unfortunately passed. How you're only back in town visiting. That he couldn't pass up the opportunity to bring you along.

And it kept like that until the point you were tempted to peel the bandages off the back of your heels after they had been slipping on you the past hour. Peeling from your skin like a piece of string on a fine shirt just begging to be pulled. The thought of them still plagued your mind as Pantalone bowed to the same man you were first introduced to that night again, an individual who took no shame in the jewels hanging from his tailcoat and the golden ring with some odd emblem on his pinky. Wishes of a splendid night on both their tongues as the two of you departed.

It was only when you were both back in that carriage, you suddenly have a lot more appreciation for as it gave you a chance to rest your aching feet, did any words pass between you two again.

Pantalone, a man who was short and concise with you, but had plenty to say to those folks in the hall as they stuffed their faces with meat as they all sat around tables covered in cloth the same thickness as the blankets you use every night. Who made it clear before you even stepped past the threshold of the mansion (though it looked more like a cheap attempt at copying the opera house's architectural style) that you would speak only when spoken to. Interrupting the few remarks you did say when it was just the two of you during those sliver of moments someone wasn't coming up to sing his praises.

It's not like you weren't used to being treated like arm candy. Maybe that's why you truly couldn't care less as he sat in the seat across from you without daring to break the silence, to say anything, until you did.

“I was right about you. You are a rather smarmy individual.”

His hand that had been messing with the fabric of the curtain blocking you both away from any prying eyes trying to peek inside the windows came to a stop with a soft sigh from his lips. Pantalone's hands still pulling it taught, the same way you did on a wrinkled shirt to see what it would look like perfectly pressed and ironed when he spoke.

“How does an escort like you even know that word?”

“How does a Harbinger like you end up with no options for a date besides one you have to hire?”

The second the question left you Pantalone's head tilted towards you in such a slow, deliberate manner you knew you should have kept your mouth shut. Unfortunately, knowing when to do that isn't a trait that comes as easily to you as it does others.

“What's your name again?”

You told him, shared it without second thought before you could take a moment to step back and recall he had been the one introducing you to everyone all night. He had known your name but asked anyway.

Well, you'll have to remember that trick for later use.

“It is an honor to properly be introduced to you, Lord Harbinger.”

With a smile, you held your hand out to him, repeating the same action as before. Two can play at this game, you thought as you waited for him to comply, to play along, and take it. And like a fool, even if it was just in good humor, he did.

If he was going to wipe his hand off again this time, you'll give him a damn good reason.

Your grip turned tight, unyielding, to ensure Pantalone couldn't simply pull away. Making sure, just as he might with each mora coin, he pinches between those fingers, that there's no possible chance to let it slip away as your lips pressed to one one of his silver rings.

It was cold against your skin, but no more biting than the words you were expecting as you silently dared him to say something.

Between the rocking of the carriage and the low light of the lantern between you two you couldn't help but notice that was the first time you've seen his eyes all night.

[imclimbingthestairsoforthanc]

Okay! Thank you! 😭

I’d really like to know how finrod acts when hes in love with reader or has a massive crush on reader, like Headcanons for that situation or maybe like a fic where he gets all happy and giddy when reader is in the room, how he always tries to stick by readers side and always tries to spend more time with them, always praising them, slowly confessing his love in different ways.. (not nsfw!)

Thats all!

Thank you! (Again)!😭💖💖

*I rly hope this made sense cuz English isn’t my first language*

makes perfect sense and I love this request. its my first time writing Finrod and honestly Im so in love right now. this is just part one but there will be a part two coming :) i hope you like it

By The Sea - Finrod x Reader (Pt. 1)

Finrod finds more than he expected when taking a long holiday to his mothers home in Alqualondë.

A/N: for certain ..... purposes ..... making finrod do they same thing I do when im nervous, i went ahead and gave him his fathers rings

Finrod wanted to be sure that his name was at the top of the list to petition for the new project you proposed to be approved. He wasn’t quite sure exactly what the project was; all he knew was that it had something to do with ship construction and the royal family, and if his name in black ink was enough to keep you around, then write away he would.

It did not, in fact, keep you around. Finrod wasn’t sure why he thought it would. You were, after all, an architect, and visits to the royal court in the great hall were likely few and far between. After about a week and a half since the proposal–when he first was enamored with you, Finrod decided that he needed to do something.

“I have never heard a bigger lie,” said Artanis coolly.

Finrod shrugged. “It’s the truth,” he said, “They never gave directions to the worksite.”

Artanis sighed. “Why do you need to know anyways?”

“I have been tasked with checking up on the progress for the foundations of the project.”

Artanis cut her eyes. She didn’t believe him, but directed him to the worksite nonetheless.

Finrod went north for hours upon hours, it seemed; it was not even one hour. He could hear the wind cut through the fabric of the tents and the waves crash onto the rocky shores. The closer he got, the harder it was for him to think of something to say to you. He could call out your name, but then decided that would be too casual. Besides, you might think it strange that he held on so dearly to your name after a meeting so brief one couldn’t even call it a real meeting. He could introduce himself, but what would he say after that? 

“Hello,” came a rich voice, and Finrod realized that deep in his thoughts he stumbled right upon you.

His clothes felt hot and his ring felt tight around his finger. He wondered if his hair had turned to frizz, as it tended to do with all the sea salt in the air. It was all he could do not to stutter.

“Hello,” he replied, “I am Finrod of the house of Finarfin.”

A moment passed.

“I know who you are,” you said. He wondered if you meant to be so harsh until you spoke again, voice softened, “What can I help you with?”

Finrod swallowed. “I have been tasked with checking on the progress on the foundations of the project,” he said. The lie barely slipped through his teeth.

“Really?” you said with a polite smile and twitching eyebrows that betrayed your confusion to the golden-haired prince, “They sent someone out two days ago.”

“Ahh,” Finrod said quietly, “Well there must have been some confusion.” 

“I see.”

The silence was tangible. You swallowed. You remembered who he was–Findaráto Ingoldo, firstborn of the crown prince of the Falmari–how could you forget? You’d been dreaming of him since you’d seen him last Tuesday, but now that he was here, all those clever, witty things you said to him as you dreamed of meeting properly seemed to have left you.

Finrod watched your eyes dance to the scene behind him–when they were not glued to the opening of his shirt collar–and wondered what you were thinking about. It was probably the project at hand; but could it be him, as little as you were acquainted? Finrod had taken everything, however little it may be, you gave him when he saw you first last Tuesday and ran with it. You had not left his thoughts. 

It occurred to him after a moment of awkward staring that maybe the conversation was over–the silence had gone on awkwardly long. He tried to think of something–anything–to say. Nothing came.

“Well, then,” he said, “I’d better get going. I’ll leave you to it; again I apologize for the confusion. I hope I have not disturbed your work.”

He didn’t want to leave.

“Not at all,” you said, too quickly for your liking, “You can stay as long as you like.”

You didn’t want him to leave. 

He gave you a nod, and you cutsied before he turned to go. You turned back to your workbench, half disappointed that he left so soon and half excited that he came. You let out a shaky breath.

“In that case,” came the voice that you hopelessly couldn’t get enough of, “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed, would you? I would very much like to see the ‘hands-on’ aspect of this process.” 

You turned and tried to hide the excitement in your eyes. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Finrod blushed. You drank in the sight. If the pink that spread across his cheeks was the last thing you ever saw, you’d be content.

***

“He is perfect in every way,” you said to Earwen, who, to your surprise, decided to take the weaving of the sails upon herself. You hadn’t expected the daughter of the king to engage so closely with the project, but, you supposed, if it was her talent and passion, so why not? 

“I cannot get enough of him. I hope he never stops visiting me.”

Earwen smiled, “Will he visit for the celebration?”

“Of course, Your Highness” you said confidently, “He is the son of the crown prince! He wouldn’t miss it.”

Finrod was royalty, yes, but deep down you knew he’d come even if he wasn’t. Months of sitting in silence with two pairs of feet dangling in the salty water and choosing cold bread over a hearty dinner fit for a prince told you that even if you were dismissed from the project and cast to the jagged cliffs and treacherous temperament of the sea to the north, Finrod would come for you.

The door creaked open to reveal none other than Finrod himself.

“Fi–my prince,” you said politely, forgoing first-name use in mind of the royalty next to you.

Finrod didn’t seem to care. “There you are!” He said, “I have been looking for you. The eggs on the rocks by the lower dock have hatched!”

“Have they?”

“Yes,” he said, “And they have the loveliest silver down. Will you be free after six?”

Your hands stopped their movement, “I think so, but I–”

Finrod took your hand, as he always did when departing, and planted a hasty kiss on it, “Great. I will meet you then. You must see them!”

He ran out before you could answer. You giggled at his excitability and looked over to Earwen.

“Is that him?”

You smiled sheepishly and looked away.

“Yes,” you said. If you saw the smirk that played at her lips you would have seen that she knew more than she let on. “Absolutely perfect.”

[feyhunter78]

Rings of Power Masterlist

Key: 🔥= NSFW 💕= My favs

Elrond Peredhel:

Snapdragons -> Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13

Reader Inserts:

Spilled Ink and Married Bliss🔥

A Herald and His Knight (Elrond x NB reader)🔥

The Princess and the Herald🔥💕

Another Use for his Writing Desk🔥

SFW Alphabet

NSFW Alphabet🔥

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Flattery and Breakfast

Durin and Disa: Matchmakers Extraordinaire, Pt 2🔥

The Object of All His Desires💕

Ice Skating Gone Wrong

The Day's End

Wedding Braids

Jealous Elrond Headcanon

Jealous Reader HC

Valentine's Day HC

Two Ripples in a Pond💕

Sleeping among the Scrolls

Accident Prone Princess💕

Dad!Elrond Headcanon

Elrond and Sick Reader HC

Long Day W/H Elrond HC -> Moodboard made by the lovely @emmyspov

Rough!Elrond Smut HC🔥

Elrond & Physically Affectionate Reader HC

Writer's Block!Elrond x Reader HC

Curious Minds

Take my Hand💕

Sit Down🔥 Pt 2🔥

Elrond Wedding HCs

Protective Prince

Purity in the Hurricane (Francesca by Hozier inspired)

Courage and Comfort Sparring Sessions

Fratboy!Elrond: HCs, Poolside, Birthday

Elrond Snippets:#1

Gil-galad:

Reader Inserts:

The Queen's Father

The High-King's Love

Isildur:

Decadent Moments🔥 No Betrothed? Good.🔥

[shezzabee]

Ineffable Slices of Life pt. 1

“Ah, there you are.” Aziraphale barged into the room with seemingly no consideration for the passed out demon inside. The bastard.

Said demon groaned — it might have been a plea for help or to be left alone.

“Here I am. You found me,” Crowley said, voice sleep-rough as he flipped on his back. “Gold star, angel.”

Aziraphale closed the door with a soft click, the sound seeming to echo in the quiet room.

Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley watched him as he stood there for a moment, his hand still on the doorknob, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. Ask me, Crowley urged silently. Ask me what I’m doing in your bed. Again.

Just when Crowley was about to tell him to sit down, Aziraphale moved towards the bed.

Crowley stilled, but he merely walked past it, and sat down on the armchair near the window.

Far enough away to be socially acceptable, the Aziraphale in his head said, but close enough for pleasant discourse.

Crowley rubbed the meat of his palm over his eyes. He must make quite the picture, splayed out on Aziraphale’s bed, limbs sprawled, his normally perfect red locks devilishly disheveled.

On a normal day, he’d show more decency around Aziraphale. He’d pull down his rucked up shirt, blink the sleep out of his eyes, take care not to leave ring stains on Aziraphale’s centuries old mahogany side-table.

None of the days lately have been normal.

“Drinking alone, I see.” Aziraphale glanced pointedly at the two empty wine bottles.

“Mn, yeah, you were busy. With Jim.” Crowley blinked, bleary-eyed, at his wristwatch. 11:40 am. Plenty of time to continue getting sloshed the rest of the day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“That was hours ago,” Aziraphale said, frowning slightly.

“You bought him a gift.” Lot of good an exceedingly sulky nap did him, it seemed.

“Well, I thought he’d enjoy it,” Aziraphale said, all puffed up and proud.

“…What was it?” Crowley asked, because clearly he was an idiot who relished in torment.

“Ah, a beautifully bound journal. With a soft leather cover and the most exquisite, high-quality pages. I've included a rather lovely fountain pen as well, with ink that subtly shimmers with intent.”

“You wot,” Crowley turned to look at him, his lips twitched. “you miracled it?”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t a proper miracle. Merely a… helpful suggestion.”

“A suggestion for an amnesiac archangel to write down his deepest and darkest thoughts?”

“That would be playing it rather fast and loose with the term ‘amnesiac’, don’t you think, dear?”

“Does he even know how to write?”

“Well, of course —”

“Not it.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Not it, what?”

“I’m not doing it. I’m not teaching bloody archangel Gabriel who may or may not be faking, how to write. You’re it.”

“No one is it, he knows how to write. I think.”

Crowley blinked at the ceiling, his silence laden with doubt.

“He knows how to read.” Aziraphale pointed out a bit tetchily. “It’s perfectly safe to assume writing is still a skill-set he possesses.”

“’S kinda hard to imagine Gabriel possessing any skills other than being a downright bast —”

“Crowley.” The tone was so chiding, it almost made Crowley want to cough up an apology. Almost.

“Are you really that troubled over it?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nah.” Crowley blinked again (he was doing an awful lot of blinking), the faint brush-strokes on the ceiling were starting to form long-forgotten shapes. Were those symbols? “If he does write something, we could read it.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“Don’t act like that wouldn’t be playing out precisely how you’d hoped.”

“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you mean,” Aziraphale countered primly.

“You might as well have sat him down and ordered him to write everything he remembers, at gunpoint.”

“I would never —!” Hand over his heart, Aziraphale managed to give him a look that was both scandalous and impish.

“Yeah, no, ‘course, a miracled fountain pen that gently coaxes its handler to write whatever comes to mind is a much more ethical approach.”

“It encourages creativity and introspection without any undue influence. Perfect for someone rediscovering themselves.”

Crowley snorted. “Leave it to you to passive-aggressively send his Holy Highness to therapy.”

“Well, sometimes we all need a bit of gentle encouragement, don’t we?”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed, then he pushed himself up on his elbows, giving Aziraphale a look of mock horror. “Therapy, angel? Are you suggesting we go all touchy-feely and introspective? What’s next, group hugs and trust falls?” He shuddered theatrically. “Honestly, you read too many books.”

“You mean to tell me your reaction to all of this has been completely reasonable?”

“Has yours? You’re harboring a fugitive archangel in your bookshop!”

“We’ve been over this. You agreed it was the right thing to do.”

Crowley flopped onto his back, fingers interlaced over his chest. Perhaps if he couldn't see Aziraphale, the fear and anger gnawing at him might stop.

“Unless you didn’t agree,” Aziraphale frowned, lips pursed in displeasure. “But then — why did you come back?”

“You know why,” Crowley suddenly felt a profound weariness, right down to his bones. “Naivety was never your colour, angel.”

The silence that followed felt stifling. Crowley lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Those were definitely ethereal symbols up there, giving him a proper headache.

He wondered how he was supposed to wriggle out of this mess now. There was no chance he was dancing again. One indignity per century was more than enough to endure.

Finally, Aziraphale said quietly, almost shyly, “Do you want to see your present?”

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 2)

Masterpost, Part 1

Platonic Whitebeard Pirates & Reader-Insert (with glasses)

Warnings: Platonic Yandere behavior and yes, the kidnapping is still actively occurring. If yandere content disturbs or otherwise unsettles you, I deeply suggest you do not read this series and block the tag "oh sweet child of mine" as well as "one piece yandere". Though mostly framed in a humorous way, it is still very toxic and problematic behavior that you should, in no way, entertain in real life from anyone.

Stay safe and enjoy.

Word Count: 1,540 (would be longer, but I didn't want to have this transitionary chapter be squished in with meeting Whitebeard and settling in)

When you became a marine, you had considered what you would do if you ran afoul of pirates. Assuming they didn’t kill you outright, that is.

In none of these imagined scenarios did you picture yourself awkwardly curled up in a med bay on one of the ‘junior’ Moby Dicks. As it turns out, Fire Fist and The Phoenix were running a small supply run simultaneously to another junior vessel since none of the surrounding islands could accommodate the Moby Dick herself—the Yonko ship being so absolutely massive for her crew and captain. A young man with a blue mask over his eyes ‘Masked Deuce’ was wiping your face and inspecting your nose for any damage that hadn’t been healed with a critical eye. Fire Fist was somewhere else—likely getting food for himself if his gluttonous behavior was any indication—while The Phoenix appeared to be starting your medical file.

That… was probably not good. The slim possibility that you were going to just be ransomed seemed to dissolve with every scratch of ink he added.

“Well, aside from some possible malnutrition and exhaustion, you seem in good shape. Not what I’d expect of a marine in these parts, though I guess they didn’t care too much about your physical condition.” Deuce placed a firm hand on your shoulder and smiled. “If you’re interested, we can get you into good shape in no time! Or maybe you’re interested in pursuing something else? Oyaji has plenty of resources we can use.” You couldn’t help but grimace and tug on your hat.

“I uh… I’m a marine?” You said, wincing at the questioning tone. “I didn’t enlist for the uniform, you know… I… I’m supposed to try and arrest pirates. Not… join them.” You explained awkwardly. Deuce just laughed while The Phoenix snorted softly.

“Everyone adjusts differently. You’ll love it here eventually.” Deuce winked before handing you a set of clothes to change into. The shirt was emblazoned with Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger.

You were rather at a loss for words. You… well, you couldn’t exactly fight them. You knew that. But you felt rather like the world had tilted dramatically the other way on it’s axis while you weren’t looking. The only way this could get more bizarre is if Fleet Admiral Sengoku called you and congratulated you for the successful adoption and your new, very criminal, pirate-Yonko family.

“Bring-ring. Bring-ring. Bring-ring.”

Oh god, you weren’t ready!? Please no?!

Horrified, you scrambled to pull the snail from your pocket, The Phoenix sliding up and leaning on the bed as you answered.

“Ensign—”

“Where the hell are you?! Ensign Williams was found, thoroughly beaten mind you, on the ground! You were assigned to be his partner!” You almost wept with relief that you were just getting torn a new one.

“A-Ah—W-Well, I-I attempted to flee with Ensign Williams when The Phoenix was spotted with Fire Fist but was… very unsuccessful.” You admitted lamely as one of the men responsible for your plight gave a placid smile, his eyes fixed on you with a horrifying intensity. Though you had no idea what for. If he was pissed you answered, he was more than welcome to take the call himself at this point.

“And why not, Ensign?! Your orders were quite clear!”

“Because I was captured instead?” The snail sputtered.

“Then escape and return to base!” The operator screamed. You were nearly in tears, your day successfully having gone from bad to absolutely the fucking worst.

“How?!” You whispered in horror, practically seeing the dry response in The Phoenix’s eyes.

Run and I will scoop you up with my talons and fly you all the way to Oyaji myself.

The receiver was plucked from your hands and you were torn between thanking your captor or trying to get it back. In the end, you did neither.

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Feel free to mail us their last paycheck because they won’t be returning. Consider this their resignation.” The snail blanched.

“On who’s authority, you filthy pirate!”

The Phoenix grinned, all teeth and eyes narrow, sapphire slits.

“Their new big brother.”

It would almost be inspiring how confident he sounded if he didn’t say it like he was declaring that your kidney would taste delightfully delicious.

Any response was cut off by him lifting up the transceiver shell and crushing it with his bare hands.

His smile turned much more friendly as he set the traumatized snail down, but the edges still seemed… feral. He ruffled your hair, knocking off your marine cap in the process.

“Get changed and wash up properly before dinner. It’ll be a few more hours before we meet up with Oyaji. Ace will make sure it’s burned.” Overwhelmed and horrified, you couldn’t help the slight whimper.

“…but I like my uniform.”

The Phoenix paused, giving you a slightly pitying smile as he gave you a side hug, blue fire flickering over the both of you. Any other circumstances, it would feel warm and reassuring.

“I know it’s a lot, kid. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” He paused looking down at you. “The hat’s gotta go, but, I tell you what, how about you keep this, yoi?” He tugged the blue neckerchief loose and placed it on top of your ‘new’ clothes.

Against your better judgment, you were a little touched at the suggestion.

What is your life now? You’ve been kidnapped, forcibly made to join a Yonko crew, and now you feel touched because one of the commanders is letting you keep a token of your job?!

Whatever.

You’d just get issued a new uniform later.

If you ever get away from this crazy ass band of pirates.

“I do like the color…” You added lamely, unwilling to push the argument considering how laughably easy it would be for him to force the issue. And then you’d have nothing left of your own.

“I like the color blue, too, yoi.” You looked at him with a frown. Glancing at his shirt.

“Not purple?” The Phoenix blinked, surprised at your dry response before chuckling.

“Alright, sassy pants. Get marching.” He smirked, shooing you to the bathroom to get changed. Flush and embarrassed, you escaped before he could say anything else.

Now… did your new pants even have pockets big enough for your animal treats?

--*--

Surprisingly, the new clothes fit well. Roomy enough that you didn’t get weirded out that they had your exact size but small enough that it wasn’t going to fall off of you anytime soon.

Your marine blue neckerchief was tied around your right wrist. The only part of your uniform you got to keep besides your shoes.

Any blood was gone from your hands or face but Fire Fist still felt the need to inspect them, playfully pinching your nose to see if it hurt still. Upon seeing that you were in perfectly fine shape, and freshly clean, he beamed.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Oyaji, he’s going to be happy to have a new kid running around. It’ll be a while before you get assigned to a division, but don’t worry, they’re all pretty great! Well, not as great as mine, but still!” Fire Fist laughed boisterously as The Phoenix rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Fire Fist’s head.

“They gotta get used to the crew first, Ace. Don’t jump the gun so quickly or you’ll hurt their feelings.”

Ah yes. Their biggest concern in this whole debacle.

Your feelings.

Cause fuck the law, that’s why. And everything else for good measure.

But also your feelings, because if that was actually a concern they would have left you with your asshat partner and a bloody nose.

… your previous circumstances does not, in fact, justify kidnapping and forced recruitment.

You are a marine damnit! Maybe not a strong one, or even a great one (yet), but there has to be a line somewhere!

“Ahah~! Right, sorry! Here, we’re having soup! It’s not as good as Thatch’s food, but we’re getting back too late for dinner so it’ll have to do. He’ll want a little more warning to pull out all the stops anyway.” Fire Fist laughed, handing you a bowl of hot soup. It smelled good, but despite your hunger, you were still a little thrown.

“…Does he often want to impress captives?” You whispered, more to yourself than anything. Fire Fist paused and actually flushed, laughing to himself.

“Sort of, yeah. He kept trying to feed me while I tried to kill Oyaji for over a hundred days, you know!” You blanched, horrified.

You had forgotten that little tidbit, although most of Fire Fist’s recruitment into the Yonko crew was a mystery, you had overheard that bit.

Suddenly, your prospects of getting out of this scot-free seemed… unlikely.

If being a marine isn’t a deterrent, and neither is many murder attempts, then what the hell could get you out of this? Fire Fist kept laughing as you caught The Phoenix’s eye.

He seemed darkly amused and very much aware of your predicament.

He clapped your shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about it so much. You’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, you don’t think he was talking about escaping.

[arthurrei07]

actverse / take on killer!sans / pt. 1

tws: implied d0mest1c a6use, bl00d, v10lence, curse words.

ship: nightkiller.

~

“…Boss is calling you.”

Killer took a moment to scoff out of his nose, almost like a snort but in exhaling manners. He spared a glance at Horror, his eyes narrowing as that crooked grin did not leave his stitched lips—scooting back from the table as his chair squeaked against the wooden flooring.

“This,” Killer’s fingers gently pressed on the side of the dish, “belongs in the trash.”

Horror’s eyebrows softly knitted, his eyes turning away from Killer and to Murder. Killer’s teeth bared — his lips not shifting from the smile, the black bloodstains being visible to any eye, “Of course. Alright, big guy.”

He raised his clenched hand up in the air, the clean fork shining under the dim light. Killer left the fork onto the table, the metal clattering around until it finally stopped.

Killer took one single look at both of their faces, the expressions—oh, the expressions. Almost gave him enough enjoyment to leave their sorryasses alone to rot. But he wasn’t done.

His neck took two cracks to turn to the staircase, eyes wide bulging as the streaks of negativity filled in his pitch black eyes, streaming down in some straight lines on his cheeks, “Enjoy your rat meat meal. Absolutely delicious, right?”

He heard some hitching on Horror’s breathing, and Murder uncomfortably moved in his place. Killer snorted, his feet stepping up to the stairs.

The wood creaked as he pushed his body up and up, feet one by one changing places on the stairs. His ear twitched as the cold air drifted through somewhere and onto his face, clearing his wet hair away from his mouth and eyes.

He helped himself up to the top stair, orbs looking around to see which room’s door was wide fucking open, making him freeze to his guts—and it was Nightmare’s.

“Killer.” That bastard was standing there, staring at him.

“What am I being accused of this time? Hm?” Killer snickered, his voice coming out rather hoarse and strangled. Blood ran up to his mouth, stopping his giggles in the middle. He nearly frowned, his taste buds tingling with the sharp taste of iron—then expectorated into his mouth and spat it harshly on the floor as black splat onto the ground. He huffed, eyes back onto Nightmare’s face.

“Let me guess,” Killer said, that stupid smile occupying his own face, “I failed the mission. Oh but Musty reported me to you, because I not only failed the mission, but I failed against that little Fae twink of your damned brother.”

Killer suddenly gasped out, his bandaged hand raising up to his mouth, showing that he had remembered something — a shock apparent on his face. Then his arm fell completely limp on his side, head slightly tilting to the left as his eyes refilled with the negativity, “I almost forgot, can you believe that? I also broke Murder’s arm, and insulted Horror’s cooking. Oh! But you already know those, huh?”

Nightmare’s shitless face—Killer wanted to break every single bone on his pretty little face, and to break them dirtily. Oh, how would he have enjoyed seeing him scream in agony, down on the floor — dying and in pain. But thank the Gods above, the trio of the brothers always returned. Not even a single damage to their body; not a busted lip, not a crooked nose, no nothing. Thank Error and Ink, right?

“Pathetic. Desperately pathetic, I am.” Killer mumbled.

“What are you exactly upset about, Killer?” Nightmare asked, his stupid teal pupil looking directly into Killer’s eyes.

“Funny question, Nightmare,” Killer spat out his name as if poison, his lips almost trembling as they forced the stitches, “Maybe the fucking contract you got my soul with. Does it ring any bells? Hm? No?”

Killer’s head perked back up, the water droplets dripping on his bare shoulders. “If I had not made that deal with you, I would have been the most powerful Fae to ever exist. The most dangerous. The most deadly.” Killer dreamily sighed, an obvious sarcasm toned in his exhale, “Maybe then I would be able to get rid of the blue asswipe.”

“You would have died if you had not made the deal. Remember,” Nightmare’s voice was calm, and Killer had to physically hold himself back from not attacking his goddamn ass, “you destroyed your own territory. You basically saved yourself from your end by making the contract.”

“I should have died, then. It’s better than being your favorite toy to play with.” Killer left his weight on the other leg, a soft shift of position causing him to get easily irritated.

“What do you want me to do, Killer?” Nightmare offered, voice hinted with aggression, “Help you create your family again? Get rid of Chara for once and ever? Make you live like princes, high and above — without any fears or disorders? Tell me, what do you want?”

“You tell me. What do I want?” Killer bit back, his lips still on their ugly grin and—he just hated it, Gods, he wanted to get rid of his complete face, “What do I want, Nightmare? What do I look like I want? Your dick? Your money? No. I want to get rid of you. I want you to die in a ditch, slowly and painfully.”

“And why do you exactly want it? Because I hit you? Or because I remind you of Papyrus every time I look dissatisfied, disappointed and frustrated?”

Killer’s eyes studied Nightmare’s face, every bone structure, his lips and nose, his… eyes. The different shapes of pupils, the different colors. He was absolutely beautiful. And Killer wanted that. He wanted to be pretty. He wanted to be charming. He wanted to be powerful. And maybe then, he would be content with his damned existence and cursed body.

“You are already flawless.” Killer got taken aback, but well, Nightmare could read minds after all, “You are attractive, drop dead gorgeous, even. A simple busted lip and a crooked nose won’t change anything about your face.” Killer slightly flinched, his grin fading away from his lips as Nightmare took a step closer — his hands gathered behind him, “You are incredibly talented and powerful. I saw you grow the roses near the Tree of Feelings with just your bare hands, and believe me when I say this, I have not seen anything like those white flowers in my thousand years of being. You have an amazing talent at using your knives, and any weapon at all — you almost seem too angelic when you use them. Especially against Murder.”

Killer’s eyebrows furrowed, his black orbs following Nightmare’s every move as he stepped closer and closer to his person, “You are just telling me what I want to hear.”

Nightmare paused in front of Killer, his head slightly piping down to make an eye contact with him. Killer’s dialed pupils followed Nightmare’s muscles softly budge into something kind, a gentle smile forming on his black lipsticky lips.

Killer hated his smile more than he hated his own.

“Is it so?” Nightmare cooed, his arms dangling on his side for a moment before he reached for Killer’s face, his bruised cheeks fitting right into Nightmare’s palms as he cupped them tenderly, thumbs rubbing onto his cheekbones, “Do you really think that I am just flattering you?”

Killer’s teeth gritted, and he yanked himself back from Nightmare, “Don’t fucking tease me, you bastard. I will obliterate you.”

“As you wish.” Nightmare’s arms sagged on his sides for a second, then he tucked them into his pockets.

They stared at each other, eyes not leaving one another.

…Killer was the one who cut the eye contact. He sighed from his nose, arms crossing on his chest as he leaned against Nightmare’s torso — getting wrapped with his arms.

Killer blinked twice, the wet layer in his eye clearing. The negativity streaks on his cheeks slowly cut — and a single circular pupil shone out of the darkness.

“Glad to have you back.” Killer felt Nightmare’s voice tingle on his chest, reaching Killer’s ears as his soft breathing filled his mind.

“…Yeah. Glad to be back.”

~

Killer Sans belongs to @rahafwabas

Nightmare Sans belongs to @jokublog

Murder/Dust Sans belongs to @ask-dusttale

Horror Sans belongs to @sour-apple-studios

Actverse belongs to me

[hauntedparadisebandana]

141 x drummer!femreader

Summary: fanboy soap drags the group to a downtown bar to see his favorite band member play live.

Pt 1/2

Warnings: swearing, implied scent kink??, Mentions of drinking, Y/H means your height

[The pov's switch in this story]

*7:00 pm, downtown bar*

The bell rings as the group enters, doors shutting behind them, they stand there, taking in their surroundings. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, the lights above are dim, giving the atmosphere a chill vibe. The group takes a seat in a booth near the stage.

"Why are we here again?" Grumbles ghost, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. He was forced to come on the groups adventure downtown.

"We're here to see the band play. They're one of my favorites." Explains soap, being the ring leader of the trip, excitement coursing through his viens.

"Couldn't you just listen to their music back at base?" "But it wouldn't be the same, plus now I get to see 'em live." Ghost huffs at his response, leaning back into the seat. He always ended up on soaps trips, whether he wanted to or not.

"What's the band called? I may have heard of them before." Says gaz leaning in.

"The Deck, a total of five people, each named after a card. They mostly play rock/metal, and a few of 'em can sing. My favorite member is the drummer."

"Hm, never took you for the metal head type, soap." Quips price, coming to set down their drinks, then popping a seat by gaz.

"Well, ye learn something new every day, gaz what time is it?" "It's 7:20, are they playing soon?" "Yep, they play at 7:30 once every week at different bars in town, at the end the drummer gives away her pair of drum sticks she used to play that night, if im lucky she'll give them to me."

This gets a reaction out of everyone, ghost chuckles lightly while price and gaz lets out hearty laughs. At this soap's face flushes red, getting embarrassed, "What's so funny?"

"So the drummers a girl huh, sounds like you're a bit of a fan boy." "Am not!" "Are too! You even know what time they play each week! And that the drummer gives away her sticks, whats next, their favorite colors, foods?"

Soaps flushes more, face red as a tomato as he leans back and turns away, "You know what, gaz, I officially hate you." "So you do know all that! Admit it, you are a fan boy!" "You are such a dick! I only know because they said it in an interview!"

Price laughs at soap and Gaz's bantering, getting a little chuckle out of ghost as well.

"Don't worry soap, it's cute how much of a fan boy you are for the drummer," gaz leans in and starts to pinch soap's cheeks, cooing and babying him; earning him a swift punch to the arm.

"That's enough out of you two, they're coming."

"What? No joke?!" Soap whips his head around to look at the stage. No one's on. When he turns around, gaz is laughing into his hand, and price hides his smirk in his glass of whiskey.

"Captain! I thought we were cool, now yer teasing me too?"

"Sorry soap, couldn't resist, but they're coming on for real this time" as he points to the stage the members bring out equipment, setting up quickly as possible, when they finish and take their places. The singer up front, the guitarist to the right, drummer on the far right. On the other side is the bass and second guitarist to the far left. The group could see the appeal, she was hard to miss.

"Soap, if you don't stop staring so hard, your eyes might fall out of your head." gaz laughs again, placing a hand on soaps shoulder.

"Just look at 'er tattoos! They're awesome. "

You could see ghost perk up at 'tattoos' she has officially piqued his interest, but he didn't want to show it, so he just stared at her intricate ink. Her most visible tattoos are on her arms, one arm is a full sleeve, the other arm has scattered tattoos. There is one peeking above her neck line of her shirt, it goes down between her breasts. Ghost nodded slowly, taking in her appearance. She was special, different, the whole band was, and the group liked that. Slightly extroverted, and bold, ready to fuck shit up.

"Aint she a sight for sore eyes" price mumbles, taking a longer sip, the thoughts coming faster than he can drink. "Ghost I can tell you're thinking, You looking at her too?" Says price quietly, taking another sip of whiskey, it turns out ghost can't hide his emotions from everyone,

"She's different..." "That she is," Price chuckles,

"I told you guys, she's cool,"

Suddenly the main lights turn off, and the stage lights come on, illuminating the band. after the singer gives introductions they begin to play. It seems as if the group controlled the bar entirely, the music was bassy, compelling, loud; and the people seemed to like it, as most sung along screaming. The drums and guitar had a solo part, and soap almost melted, gaz just laughed at him. Soon, the song was over, the last echo of sound was heard and the bar erupted into yells, claping and whistling.

By the end of the songs, the group was tipsy, with soap and gaz almost on the edge of being drunk. The group sits there in awe for a moment. The experience was new. "I'll say, that wasn't half bad, I like their style." Price crosses his arms.

"Yeah, you picked good soap," Ghost nods to soap. "I knew you would come around ghost! They're good, right? The way they play is amazing!" "Uh oh, he's fanboying again." "I'll kick your arse."

*y/n pov*

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, taking a swig of water. Me and my band mates smile and wave taking in the praise, the excitement. "Now it's time for the fun part, y/n, pick the lucky winner for tonight's sticks."

I smirk and quickly look around, I spot a booth close to the stage. A total of four men sat there, all looking at me. They're all cuties at that. The one sporting a mohawk had a twinkle in his eyes; a true metal lover at heart, I assume. I nod to the leader, hopping off the stage quickly making my way to the booth. The guards follow close behind, ensuring my safety. As I got closer, his eyes go wide. I take the guy with a Mohawk hands, giving him my drum sticks, my glossy lips form a grin as he stares at me, like a child meeting santa for the first time.

"You're tonight's lucky one." I smile at him sweetly, nodding to the rest of his table mates. Up close, everyone is rather handsome, their eyes drilling into my face, focus y/n. I make my way back to the stage, putting up my equipment, getting ready to leave.

*pov, 141*

Soap sits there, jaw slack and eyes wide. Gaz busts out laughing for the third time this night, and price smirks. "I-I got 'er sticks, I really got 'er sticks!" He exclaimed

"You sure did soap,"

"I don't know if anyone noticed, but damn she smells good," adds gaz. "Her smell is strong, sweet." "It's intoxicating." Ghost mumbles, rubbing his temple, the bourbon was finally getting to him. Her smell is like a sweet musk, hard to rub off, hard to get rid of. He remembers the way her bracelets and bangles jingled, sweet music to his ears. Fuck. He could feel something straining.

"'er voice is sweet too.... and her smile, shes really cool." "Oooook fanboy soap has gotten delirious." "Am not!" "Are too! Stop denying it!" "Whatever!" Their words slur a bit. Maybe they were a bit drunk after all.

Price sighs, rubbing his head at the twos antics. "I'm grabbing another drink, care to join?"

"Yeah, I'll go, but just to move around. I've been sitting so long it feels like my ass is glued to the seat." Gaz complains, holding his head in his hands.

"Let's go." The entire group gets up to get drinks, soap gasps as he spots y/n. She took her shirt of some time ago, now only in a sports bra, showing off her rad back tattoo. She stands with her hands in her pocket. The second guitarist is also standing, leaning against the booth talking to her, laughing.

"You should've seen the way he was looking at you! It was like looking at a kid seeing gifts under the tree."

"I seen his expression, I thought he was gonna get emotional and start crying right there as I gave him the sticks!"

the guitarist smirks glancing past y/n, "speak of the devil, it's the kid on Christmas and his group."

"Oh hush spade, leave the man alone."

We get closer to hear y/n hush the guitarist, we sit at the bar near where they stand, away from her and the guy, too drunk and weary to make decisions. Plus, the band's guards were close by, best not to piss them off. The guitarist continues to look over at us

"You know you guys can stand by us right, join us, we don't bite....well, I do but y/n doesn't." He pulls y/n in by the shoulder, to which she punches him.

"Don't listen to this jackass, come, it's safe to sit over here." She waves us over, inviting us to join her, those same bracelets and bracelets making the same sweet noise.

*y/n pov*

Theres a bit of an akward silence for a moment, I tap my hands on my thighs. Its then broken as the guy to my right speaks up, his voice rough and deep, smooth around the edges. It sends a shudder through my body, the smell of cigar smoke and cologne fills my senses.

"These are my men, ghost, gaz, and soap, I'm price." Each one nods and greets me as price says their name. Spade always being a dick has to speak up,

"So the kid on Christmas is soap, hm," he takes a sip of his drink, I pinch him after he says this.

"ignore him, so, what brings you guys downtown tonight..." I say, taking spades cup and taking a sip of whatever he's drinking.

"Well, our buddy soap here wanted to come see you guys live." Gaz grabs soap by the shoulders, shaking him.

"See us live hm? You a big fan?" I grin, looking soap right in his eyes, questioning him.

"Well-" "He's a huge fan, he knows the times you play, where you play, he even watches the group interview-" "Yes, I'm a fan," he says, cheeks red. Hand slapped over gazs mouth to hush him.

I put down my glass, "Oh, well we love very dedicated fans, don't we spade." "Mhm, love em'"

I lean back, looking at the two. The big one to my left, ghost, speaks up.

"Your tattoos..."

"Hm, what about them?" I look up at him, fuck he's tall, about 5 inches taller than me, as I'm Y/H. He looks about 5'10-6'2, well built, pure muscle, and oh that accent... he could easily crush me-

"Where do you get them done..." those eyes

"I do most myself, others I get a friend to do. I run a tattoo shop in my spare time."

"You have talent, y/n" price speaks up, smiling at me.

"Oh you flatter me," I joke, placing a hand on my chest. "No really, you play in a band, run a tattoo shop along with doing your own tattoos? That's pure talent that deserves recognition."

"Why thank you price," I laugh, running a hand through my hair, getting it out my face.

He nods down at me, I look at him. I see something shift in his expression, it was dark, hungry, I don't question it one bit; getting that all to familiar feeling in the bottom of my stomach. I squeeze my thighs. His eyes are a deep shade of blue, all of theirs are blue, except for gaz, his are a pretty shade of rich brown

"You smell really good..." gaz perks up,

"Ah, that's my perfume, strawberry poundcake, got it as a gift."

"..." Gaz soon has the same aura price had, hungry, wanting. I catch onto this quickly. Feeling my stomach jump I avert my eyes, looking for a distraction. Maybe he's just drunk...

"Hey y/n we need to head out, ace is tired of waiting and hes starting to bitch about it." Thank fucking god

"Ace is tired of everything" I sigh turning back to the group. "I gotta run boys, but me and the group will be down here tomorrow around 7:00 for an off day, if you wanna join."

"Sure lass, we'll join ya" soap nods eagerly, getting the others to agree even in their drunken states.

"Ok that's great! See you soon." I turn on my heels to run after spade who had started leaving without me. Face flushed and the feeling still in the pit of my stomach. Still feeling their eyes drilling into my back, I slide out the bar doors.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey i hope you had a nice day, do you have some parentlock fanfic recommendations? im currently running out of fanfictions regarding this trope and need some new stuff🙏🏼🙏🏼

Hey Nonny!

Ah, not much, I haven't been doing much new reading lately so all the lists I do have are about 6 months old the latest... Hmm. Let's make a new list and go through my MFL list, because I once again don't have a different list of stuff I've read ready, so let's give y'all a nice long list today :) These are all the fics that have been tagged with "Parentlock" based on the author descriptions.

Feel free to add more, friends!

EDIT: THIS HAD TO BE SPLIT UP, SO YAY I HAVE LISTS FOR THREE WEEKS!!! :D I had a lot more Parentlock MFLs than I thought, so I hope you enjoy Parentlock for the next three weeks, hahahha!

------

PARENTLOCK Pt. 4A (MFL, 0-25K w.)

See also:

Parentlock

Parentlock Pt. 2

Parentlock Pt. 3

Adoption

Single-Parent Sherlock

Sherlock Soft With Children

Dragons and Giants by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (G, 432 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Parentlock with Rosie) – Uncle Mycroft tells Rosie a story about how brave her Daddy and her Papa really are.  Part 4 of the Bedtime Stories with Sherlock and John series ||  Part 17 of the Children's Classics with a Johnlock Twist series || Part 6 of the Ring Around the Rosie - Parentlock Fluff series

FOR YOU, MY LOVE....... by sherlock_is_actually_a_girls_name (G, 540 w., 1 Ch. || One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Rosie Watson, Parentlock) – Rosie has decided that her papa needs some makeup........

Bad Influence by Mottlemoth (T, 923 w., 1 Ch. || Mystrade || Humour, Secret Relationship, Background Johnlock, Parentlock with Rosie, Rosie Swears, Uncle Mycroft) – Three-year-old Rosie Watson learns a fun new word; Sherlock is in no doubt who taught her it.

Dear Sherlock: The First 30 Times I Loved You The Most by wendymarlowe (M, 1,063 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It, Parentlock, Schmoop / Fluff) – Written because I have some serious feels about the end of S4.

The Ghostly Beekeeper by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (G, 1,129 w., 1 Ch. || Dog, Parentlock) – Rosie Watson-Holmes shares the story of her father’s great tragedy. Part 9 of the Spooky Johnlock Stories series || Part 2 of the A Sackful of Saki series || Part 11 of the Ring Around the Rosie - Parentlock Fluff series

He Gets That From Me by CrayolaDinosaurs (G, 1,163 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Implied Mystrade, Depressing as Fuck, OC Child) – Sherlock discusses the traits that Hamish gained from John and himself.

Rosie and the Rainbows by MissDavis (M, 1,194 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Girl Guides/Scouts, Papa Sherlock, Fluff, M for Language) – Sherlock isn't exactly opposed to Rosie joining the Girl Guides, but he doesn't really see the appeal, either. It ends up being much worse than he imagined.

Z is for Animals by chainedtothemirror & ChrisCalledMeSweetie (G, 1,228 w., 2 Ch. || Case Fic. Riddles, Fluff, Established Relationship, Parentlock, Illustrated) – A case leads Sherlock and John to spend a day at the London Zoo - with surprising results.  Part 8 of the Sherlock Challenge Prompt Fills series || Part 7 of the Ring Around the Rosie - Parentlock Fluff series

Are you gay, Sherlock? (the question that changed everything) by Wholockian_Nerd (G, 1,370 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, POV First Person John, Parentlock with Rosie) – Rosie asks a question one day and Sherlock’s answer changes everything about his and John’s relationship.

Still here by solrosan (G, 1,387 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TFP, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John come home to Rosie after the events of The Final Problem.

Ink by Strange_johnlock (T, 1,460 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Parentlock with Rosie, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Tattoos, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff) – Every tattoo Sherlock gets has to do with John.

Without Complexities or Pride by Raina_at (G, 1,671 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Parentlock, Stream of Consciousness, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Domestic Fluff) – Love is what happens when you look and look and finally see.

Family by bluebellofbakerstreet (G, 1,919 w., 1 Ch. || Art Fic / Text in Images, Parentlock, Mycroft POV, Fluff, Background Mystrade) – Mycroft Holmes keeps an eye on Rosie Watson. Strictly for the sake of security. Excerpts from a confidential file.

parenting 101 by ImJustPassingThrough (G, 1,922 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4,  Parentlock with Rosie, Crying Sherlock, Caring John) – Rosie accidentally broke a glass vase by playing ball in the apartment, despite her Dad telling her not to. However, when her Papa told her off for it, she may have yelled something she shouldn't have...

Sherlock chooses himself by thewallflower07 (G, 2,035 w., 1 Ch. || Post TLD / No TFP, No Parentlock, Dialogue Heavy, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock and Feelings, John is Not Good, Angst) – Sherlock is a physical and emotional mess after John beats him bloody during the Culverton Smith case. He visits his therapist, who tells him to be selfish for the first time in his life. When John appears with his daughter and asks him to move back, Sherlock has to make a very difficult decision.

enbyfriend by blueberrynoahboi (NR, 2,045 w., 2 Ch. || Post S4, Teen Romance, Gender Dysphoria, Teen Rosie, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Parentlock) – Rosie brings home someone special, and John has to grapple with some new ideas. Sherlock's there for support. But as always, it's all fine.

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Beauty and the Beast, Love Confessions, Disney Songs, Oblivious John, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Pining Sherlock) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of the Made of Music series

Are You Gay? by orphan_account (G, 2,299, 2 Ch. || Parentlock with Rosie, Older Rosie, Fluff) – Some boys at school called Rosie "Gay." She doesn't exactly know what that means, but maybe her dad does?

Keep Calm and Celebrate Sherlock's Birthday by BookGirlWithLove (G, 2,431 w., 11 Ch. || Post-S4, Sherlock’s Birthday, Parentlock / Rosie, Collection of 221B Ficlets First Kiss) – Rosie's excited to throw Sherlock a surprise birthday party. John knows it won't be that simple.

Three of us by Salambo06 (E, 2,801 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock, Domesticity, First Kiss) – He leans in as soon as he’s close enough, kissing Rosie’s forehead softly, murmuring a quiet “Morning love” as Sherlock goes into more detailed facts about Rosie’s sleeping habits. John isn’t sure what happens next, but without thinking twice about it and actually feeling like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do right now, he leans in towards Sherlock and kisses his temple with a smile.

The Best Things in Life by Calais_Reno (T, 2,969 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Fluff and Humour, Accidental Kissing, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love) – Will they talk about this? Hell, no. Part 27 of Just Johnlock

Hope is sweet by Lock_John_Silver (T, 2,977 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Valentine’s Day, Developing Relationship, Pet Names, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Classical Music, Idiots in Love, Endearments, POV Sherlock) - Sherlock wants to be more than John’s best friend. Has wanted it for ages, truth be told. So, when Molly comes up with an idea, that to some extent involves three year old Rosie, Sherlock doesn’t hesitate.

Lines in the Sand by JRow (G, 3,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff) –  He examines the plain white box, which clearly holds a new mug. John must have purchased it and he’s written a note on the top. First time for everything. – J. Sherlock smiles and feels excitement as he opens the box. As expected, it’s a mug. It appears to be a boring, white mug. Sherlock pulls it out of the box and his breath hitches as he sees the image decorating the side. It’s not boring at all.

Move in by Strange_johnlock (G, 3,073 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love, Parentlock, First Kiss, Light Angst, Fluff) – Sherlock wants John and Rosie to move out. At least that's what John thinks.

Enfolded in Love by Schattengestalt (T, 3,258 w., 1 Ch. || Trans!Sherlock, FTM Sherlock, Body Dysphoria, Domestic Fluff, Couch Cuddles, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Parentlock, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Kissing) – When their daughter comes to them with a question, Sherlock fears that the answer to it will change her perception of him forever.

Words Won’t Come by unicornpoe (G, 3,323 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff, Angst, Softness, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Parentlock with Rosie) – John wants to take Sherlock’s wrist into his hand, to tether him close. Pull him in with a palm at the small of Sherlock’s back, press his forehead into the curve of Sherlock’s neck. Catch that heat, and hold it forever. Kiss him. He doesn’t. Instead, he settles for tea and awkward conversation. Fifteen minutes, tops, and John barely breathes the whole time.

The Wee Small Hours of the Morning by Quesarasara (NR, 3,330 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmates AU || Parentlock, Family Fluff, Surrogacy, Established Relationship) – How Sherlock, John and Jack became a family. Part 2 of the The Colors 'Verse series

"Daddy, who do you like?" by OnlyForward (G, 3,441 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock / 6 Year-Old Rosie Fic) – Rosie is in the phase where she constantly asks questions. This leads to questions like "Who do you like" and develops, eventually, to "Why don’t you kiss Sherlock?"

About Bloody Time by ANGSWIN (T, 3,925 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Parentlock with Rosie, Family, Friendship, Love, Babysitting, First Kiss, Matchmaker Mycroft) – During a family emergency, Mycroft (un)intentionally plays matchmaker.

Father by NomdePlume (G, 4,525 w., 1 Ch. || Post-T6T Fix It, Parentlock, Soul Searching, Papa Sherlock, Pining, Panicked Sherlock, Fluff,  Godfather Sherlock, Pre-Slash) – Sherlock never realized how good he would be at this parenting thing. Or how much he would love it.

Don't Read the Last Page by Raina_at (T, 4,527 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock, Domestic Fluff, Life with a Toddler, Friends to Lovers, Love Confession, First Kiss) – What does it mean to be brave? Or: Sherlock and John spend New Year's Day with a grumpy toddler and have a long overdue conversation.

A Study in Sleep by Ranowa (T, 5,691 w., 1 Ch. || Post TFP, Parentlock, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Worth Issues) – John just wants to go to sleep, and instead is woken up by a crying toddler. He learns that Sherlock is at his most honest only when he thinks that no one is watching.

Love Like Ours by Berty (T, 6,563 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Past John/Mary, First Kiss, Declarations, Developing Relationship, Conversations, POV John) – In a moment of madness, John tells Sherlock that he loves him. He had not anticipated where the ensuing conversation would take them.

Incidents with Dogs, Curious and Otherwise by DiscordantWords (T, 6,850 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Dogs, First Kiss, John Comes Home, Parentlock) – Rosie, it seems, is quite taken with dogs. So is Sherlock. John cannot help but notice.

Swift, Fierce & Obscene by J_Baillier (M, 7,183 w., 4 Ch. || Post-S4, Angst, Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Big Brother Mycroft, Drugs, Parentlock, Reichenbach Feels, Flashbacks) – Every morning, he lets out a rattled breath of relief because John doesn't know yet; he can still pretend everything hasn't changed.Sometimes it's the smallest things, rather than criminal master plans or elaborate family secrets, which ultimately destroy what a man has fought to preserve.

Dinner Conversations, a 5+1 by BakerTumblings (G, 7,559 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Blended Families, Parentlock, Dinner Conversations, Established Relationship, Family Adventures, Five and Ones) – Five times that John had something to say at or about dinnertime, and one time where John was requested to listen. Part 8 of Eyes Wide Open

The Beating of a Heart by Ficlet_Sprinkler (NR, 7,700 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Heavy Angst, Love Confessions, Parentlock) – John is deadly sick, laying in the hospital, with Sherlock by his side. Things are not looking well for John, so Sherlock decides to finally tell him the truth. The truth he had been holding back for years, as it hurt too much for him to admit. Before it's too late...

Miscommunication by SrebrnaFH (G, 7,849 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Father’s Day, Parentlock, Surprises) – Sherlock picks Rosie up from daycare and is faced with a Problem To Resolve. Little Watson is distressed.

I meant to say always by OnceSherlock (T, 8,808 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Parentlock, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Unresolved Romantic Tension, POV John, Protective Parents) – Rosie made sure that Sherlock was listening before whispering into John’s ear. “I wished for you and Papa to be married.”

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss (E, 10,116 w., 2 Ch. || Post-S4, POV Outsider, Parentlock, Fluff, Five and One) – Five times people imagined what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to.

We could. by agirlsname (M 10,918 w., 1 Ch. || Twitterlock AU || Post-TRF, Relationship Crisis, Emotional Sex, Angst and Fluff, POV John, Parentlock, Hurt/Comfort, Texting) – We can do better than two weeks. An interpretation of events occurring on the 16th of May 2017; a most dramatic night on Twitter. Part 1 of Contacts

Wanting Everything by jadztone (T, 10,931 w. 1 Ch., || Post-S4, Miscommunications, Pining John, Pregnancy, UST / RST, First Kiss, Parentlock, Mollcroft) – John and Rosie are living in Baker Street again, after the events of TFP. John is trying to work up the courage to tell Sherlock how he feels. When he finds out Molly is pregnant, he fears that he is too late.

Casualty by Silvergirl (E, 12,051 w., 4 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canon Compliant Until T6T, Mary’s Dead, Trauma/Comfort, John’s a Good Friend, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Sherlock Learns Teamwork, Parentlock) – Sherlock renders assistance at a hit-and-run and is left deeply shocked. When the accident turns into a case, John moves back in to 221b to help—and finds that Sherlock has way oversold his image as an emotionless thinking machine.

Darkest Days, Finest Hours by blueink3 (M, 12,448 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Parentlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, Hurt John, Peril, Soft Sherlock, BAMF John) – They both knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time. And now the time has come.Rosamund Catherine Watson is missing. And Sherlock Holmes is about to set the world on fire.

The Infinite Curse Of A Lonely Heart by Potrix (M, 13,416 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 Canon Divergence, URT/UST, Pining, Infidelity, Unhealthy Relationships, Drug Use/Abuse, Angry Sex, Hurting Sherlock, Oblivious John, Not-Nice Mary, Parentlock, Eventual Happy Ending, Protective Mycroft, Paternal Lestrade) – Sherlock agrees to be the best man. John is his friend and that's what you do for your friend. Sherlock prepares and delivers the best man speech for his friend. John is his best friend and that's what you do for your best friend. Sherlock watches his best friend get married and smiles on. John is the person he loves and that's what you do for the person you love.Sherlock kills the man threatening the person he loves. John is his world and that's what you do for you friend, your best friend, the person you love, the love of your life, your world.

A Fortuitous Oversight by scribblesinthebyline (E, 14,513 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse AU || Parentlock, Omega Sherlock, Alpha John, Past Mpreg, Anal Sex, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes was perfectly content being a single parent until a scent on the wind caught his attention.

A One-Track Life by JennLynn77 (E, 13,526 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4/TFP, Parentlock, Est. Rel., Medical Procedures, Anal, Cuddling/Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Surgery, Physical Therapy, Retirement, Sherlock Whump, Caring John, Bottomlock, Endearments, Drug Addiction, Triggers) – A medical situation threatens to derail the plans Sherlock had for his life with John and Rosie.

Full Circle by cumberqueer (E, 13,797 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock, Domestic Fluff, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes has noticed that his best friend and crime-solving partner John Watson is doing well - too well for what they've been through, if you ask him. Sherlock is worried John is seeing someone that is making him very happy, and intends to find out who. But first: data. Featuring a spreadsheet of John Watson's Smiles, a parentlock makeover for 221b, and John being charming af.

Sehnsucht by unicornpoe (T, 14,770 w., 9 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, Mutual Pining, Parentlock with Rosie, Romance, Slow Burn, Touch Starvation, Hurt / Comfort, Hurt John, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Sehnsucht: longing, pining, yearning, craving, intensely missing. An individual’s search for happiness while coping with the reality of unattainable wishes. John is here now, yes, yes he is. He and Rosie are back home in 221B with Sherlock, safe where they belong... but why is there still a hole deep inside Sherlock, wide and gaping and consuming? Does John feel it too? And what will it take to fill it?

Quite an Eyeful by BakerTumblings (M, 14,869 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Established Relationship, Military Backstory, Brief Previous John/OFC, Domestic Life) – Life on Baker Street for Sherlock, John, & Rosie was very good. They had resolved many of the issues that had plagued them, settled in as parents, and thrived on a more predictable yet very enjoyable routine.Until something very unexpected from John's past surfaced to challenge them.They will, of course, work together and find a way to manage. Together. Part 1 of Eyes Wide Open

Winning the Goat by ArwaMachine (E, 17,204 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Established Relationship, Kissing, Anal, Fluff, Bottomlock, Slice of Life, Mild Hurt/Comfort) – The life that Sherlock and John have together is rather unusual. Sometimes they lounge about the flat with their daughter. Sometimes they flee for their lives from a band of organ-harvesting criminals. Sometimes they shag. Sometimes Sherlock insists upon arguing with John about the Monty Hall problem for weeks on end. Somehow, they love each other. Somehow, it all works.

Stay for Me by Itsallfine (M, 17,310 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss/Time, Bed Sharing, Mental Health Issues, Not-Nice Mary, Divorce, Angst with Happy Ending, Parentlock) – 221B was packed into boxes and bins, and that was when John knew, really knew—Sherlock had planned to be gone forever.

One Good Scare by blueink3 (M, 17,386 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Holmes Family, Parentlock, Misunderstandings, Family, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Halloween, Happy Ending) – Mummy invites Sherlock, John, and Rosie to the country for her birthday, which just so happens to coincide with the annual Harvest Festival, an event Sherlock loathes. With John seemingly making the wrong move at every turn and with ghosts hiding in each of their closets, what will it take for their (Halloween) masks to finally come off?

The Nearer Your Destination by Silvergirl (E, 18,949  w., 6 Ch. || Post-TLD, Established Relationship, Wedding, Venice Honeymoon, Parentlock, Jealousy) – After a December wedding, Sherlock takes John to Venice for a February honeymoon. It's absolutely perfect, up until the moment he hears John growl, "What the hell is Zanardi doing here?" Part 4 of the Drawn to Stars series

I'll Show You the Difference by Ginger_Cat (E, 19,677 w., 10 Ch. || Post-HLV, Infidelity, Hand/Blow Jobs, Hair-Pulling, First Kiss, Caught-In-The-Act, Almost Parentlock, Minor Character Death, Angst, Bittersweet Ending) – John attempts to prove that Sherlock's love for him is platonic. He fails, miserably.

WHISPER TO ME by chrysanthemumsies (T, 20,598 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff, Parentlock, Mutual Pining, Music, Sherlock Plays Guitar, Love Confessions, Light Angst, Romance, First Kiss) - Following the events of S4, Sherlock and John try and fit back into their old life as carefully as they can, all while their feelings threaten to bubble to the surface. Or: Sherlock picks up playing the guitar. John falls more and more in love with every passing day.

A Twist of Fate by cloud_wolfbane (M, 21,103 w., 12 Ch. || Omegaverse || Mpreg, Drug Use, Parentlock) – In a cocaine bender Sherlock forgets to take his heat suppressants and spends his heat with a soldier readying for deployment. While he remembers the man's kindness he does not remember his name. In a move even Sherlock isn't sure he can deduce, he decides to keep the child. What will he do 10 years later when he meets Dr. John Watson at Barts? Part 1 of the Twist of Fate series

Home Is by glenien (E, 21,786 w., 2 Ch. || S4 Fix-It / Post S4, Eventual Happy Ending, Parentlock, Emotional Baggage, First Kiss, Domesticity, Fluff) – While 221B is still under construction, Sherlock stays with Rosie and John.

Into the Multiverse by AnAnYaH (M, 21,958 w., 18 Ch. || Avengers / Sherlock / Dr. Strange Crossover || Multiverses, Everstrange, Parentlock / Teenage Rosie, Sad Sherlock, Angry Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Sherlock/John Fight, Magic, Strange John, First Kiss, Whipping, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Threats of Rape / Non-Con, Mental Anguish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending) – Nothing lasts forever. I am beginning to think it's the same for you and me. In a world where we don't co-exist how long will it take to finally break us ? Or are we already broken in need of a fix ?A multi-chapter fic where Sherlock and John had to leave their lives to save the world from universal threats and pursue as Doctor Strange and Everett Ross.Will they ever reunite? Part 1 of the Everstrange series

The Alchemy of Sea Glass by reveling_in_mayhem (E, 22,010 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S3 Canon Divergence, Parentlock (Rosie), Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Vacationing) – Salt and air and sand surrounded their little party of three. Crashing waves, gull cries, and the exhilarated exclamations of an excited three-year-old served as the soundtrack to a day filled with blue skies and bright sunshine.

Where I Cannot Find You by withoutawish (M, 22,211 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Drama, Cancer, Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Turmoil, Established Relationship, Character Death) – When Hamish is diagnosed with cancer, his parents have two entirely separate ways of coping.

Becoming Us (A reunion in three parts) by addicted2hugh (E, 23,207 w., 3 Ch. || S4 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, First Time, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Light Parentlock, Bottom Sherlock, Self-Harm, Drug Addiction, Sherlock is a Mess) – After watching Mary's last message, Sherlock and John try to be the "Baker Street Boys" again. Rebuilding the destroyed flat is the easy part. Will they manage to rebuild their friendship as well? And what did Mary mean when she said: "And if I'm gone, I know what you could become."?

Lockdown by johnwatso and Salambo06 (E, 23,376 w., 20 Ch. || Quarantine, COVID-19, Lockdown, Fluff, Parentlock, Reunion, Dancing, Soft Idiots, Sex Toys) – The world is in lockdown due to Covid-19. This is how Sherlock and John spend their time.

Danger Nights by khorazir (T, 23,591 w., 3 Ch. || Post-TLD, Friends to Lovers, Mentioned Parentlock, Pining, First Kiss/Time, Winter, Folklore, Wales, Spooky Elements, Bed Sharing, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Spooky Elements) – According to folklore, the nights between Christmas and Twelfth Night are the most dangerous of the year. During them, the Wild Hunt rides, and ghosts and demons come out to haunt unsuspecting and misbehaving folk. An investigation of a series of strange occurrences leads John and Sherlock to Hay-on-Wye on the Welsh Marches, to face ghosts weird and ancient as well as close and personal – and perhaps to start the new year on a more hopeful note than the previous one.

[sleepyheadincoulds]

Running Away Isn't Easy - Emmanuel M. Ruiz, Knight of the Moon Vignette (Pt. 1)

MWEHEHEHE

This is a revised version from my old vignette both The Real Thing and I'm So Tired

Authors Notes: Book 7 spoilers, platonic :3

Everything felt tense, the atmosphere felt suffocating, and panic and fear aroused. Malleus was either not in his right mind, or he was crazy, either one of those was it. Emmanuel and Grim were practically shaking, they never once witnessed Malleus acting this way. But Emmanuel’s heart dropped to the floor, when she saw pitch black ink, black as a raven’s feather. Her mind felt dizzy, her ears were ringing and all she could hear was muffled yelling and arguing. Grim’s paws were clutching onto the blazer of Emmanuel’s uniform, while Emmanuel was holding a frightened cat close.

Her mind snapped back when she heard these words from Malleus’s mouth, “O spinning wheel of fate, spin the threads of calamity. I, the Lord of Malevolence, offer this blessing.” Emmanuel’s stomach was twisting up like a spring coil, Grim’s claws were digging into the fabric of her blazer. Everything in Emmanuel’s mind was chaotic, full of fear and anxiety, until those final words coming out of Malleus’s tongue, “Fae of Maleficence.” Lilia’s eyes widened as he screamed, “MALLEUS!” Time had stopped, everything was falling apart so quickly.

The atmosphere was thick, thorns that looked sharp as needles were growing into the Diasomnia dormitory. Emmanuel and Grim were holding onto each other like lifelines. One by one everyone fell asleep, their friends, acquaintances, classmates, teachers, and staff. Emmanuel saw some familiar ink on the floor where Malleus stood, but he looked so different than before. She realized one thing, something that she trusted Malleus not to do, to overblot.

Her eyes looked up into his, not daring to face away. Eyes like hers that are like pearls that could shame the most precious pearls, boring into his green, emerald eyes. But she could never look at him the same way as before. Someone who was like a guardian to her, like family, and like a guide. Like a shepherd to his sheep.

Her body was shaky, in her mind the only words she could hear was: “Not again, not again, not again.” Sinister laughing could be heard from Malleus, as if he were mocking the young girl’s fear. “Don’t worry. There’s no need to be afraid.” Malleus spoke, now towering over Emmanuel’s trembling self. She spoke up, her voice shaky and timid, “Why?” Why, that was the only thing that could come out of her mouth. He didn’t respond to her question, “Give in to slumber…”

Emmanuel suddenly felt tired, her body began to weaken and her mind shutting down all thoughts. “That’s it, and a thousand years will pass in the blink of an eye.” Malleus spoke to her; his words were like a trance. Grim tried to stay awake, but the trance feeling of falling asleep was stronger. Thorns were growing everywhere, and Emmanuel was in a trance until she closed her eyes and fell forward. Malleus caught her and he held her tightly.

There lies a girl, who was only fourteen years old, under the greatest curse of a thousand years of heavy slumber. There stood the crowned prince of Briar Valley, Malleus Draconia, whose bloodline follows the Thorn Fairy. But at this darkest hour, he puts a curse, or he calls it “his blessing” of a thousand years of sleep upon all of Night Raven College. The girl, Emmanuel Ruiz, was just a merely human child, with no magical talents whatsoever, and just a student under the Ramshackle dorm. But what makes her so important to the crowned prince of Briar Valley? A powerful fae that was feared by many.

Emmanuel was the first person who wasn’t actually afraid of Malleus. When they first met, Malleus found it silly how a youngster like her decided to call him, “Señor Dragón” (Mr. Dragon). Even over time Malleus thought her finding out his real name would scare her, but it didn’t! Not when it was revealed at VDC.

They both had a father and daughter bond, and it was something so dear and precious to Malleus. Emmanuel was never afraid of him, and she was always so sweet and kind to him.

Malleus thought everything was perfect, until the breaking news of finding out Emmanuel had possibly found a way back home. His heart was torn and he felt as if his whole world was falling apart bit by bit. But he also knew that she was human, and her lifespan was short. Humans have to live their own lives. He didn’t want to let her go yet. It almost felt pathetic for a Fae Prince to grow such attachment towards a human child that he declared to call his own.

The day that he overblotted, that was something that broke Emmanuel. Malleus was the last person Emmanuel trusted to not overblot, but yet here he is, cursing everyone to sleep. Including her. Everything has a price, but not all prices are easy to pay. Sometimes the cost can be the biggest consequence. Now Emmanuel lies asleep, in a bed of the most comforting pillows and blankets, and the sweetest and naturing flowers. She is safe, or that’s what Malleus believes in. Just a thousand years of deep slumber, and she would be safe. Safe from the cruel and broken world, no more tears, no more pain, just an absolute haven.

[1donoow]

STRANGER THINGS FANFICS REC PT.2

[Fanfics i've read]

edited

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♡ - smut

Mostly fluff

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robin buckley

dustin henderson

alexei smirnoff

steve harrington

billy hargrove

eddie munson

@fangirl-imagines - imagine being hopper's daughter and eleven's big sister

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@kaylawritesfics -Stranger Things Boys With A Tall S/O

@gaiath - being seen as another parental figure in hawkins

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robin buckley

@luveline - morning cuddles with robin

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@pappydaddy - taken with the goth girl

dustin henderson

@lady-ashfade - holy shit

@myuninterestinglifestory - dating dustin henderson hc

- cookie container

@yurtletheturtlehenderson - unbelievable

@thestringsonmyguitarneck - a joke for a dance

@mike-wheeler-st - safe (006!reader)

@just-my-fandom - nerd (harrington!reader)

- she's home (sister!reader)

- steve's little sister

@wukindly - being dustin's older sister would include

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alexei smirnoff

@bowieandqueen11 - costume shopping with alexei

- summer love

- i love you?

@twistnet - being a hawkins lab test subject + dating alexei would include

@mxrlin-writes - christmas

- (not) lost in translation

@underratedcharactersimagines - Alexei being jealous of others around you would include

- alexei body worshiping you would include

- alexei being touch starved would include

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steve harrington

@eufezco - confidence

@foreverindreamlandd - babysitters club

@s1ater - perfect match

@finalgirleddiemunson - loving you is easy

@eddiemunching - she's dreaming

@richiekirschs - giving steve a haircut

- handmaking steve a gift

- ___ (short + feisty fem!reader)

@kaylawritesfics - sick day

- Dating Steve Harrington and Being Max’s Step Sister

@hawkins-losers - mommy sorry, mommy? ♡

@luveline - shy reader wanting a hug from steve

@thxliaaa - it changes everything

@nevillesimp - study break ♡

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billy hargrove

@billyhargrove-s - night's like these

@constellationsreid - ___

@kaylawritesfics - Being a Wheeler and Dating Billy Hargrove

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eddie munson

@eminems-skittles - eddie's love language

@multi-writer - ___ (athlete!reader)

@kmhya - kiss it better

@littlemissfiore - king of freaks and class president

@loveronlineee - doodles and dates

- the metalhead and the material girl

- unlikely couple

- different

- i.o.u

- the little things pt.3

- pushing it pt.1

- jammin'

@alcottsangel - the lovecats

@eddiesbug - ___

@ceo-of-sloppy-men - eddie with an s/o that is lowkey a pyromaniac

@kaylawritesfics - paper rings

@glitt3r-litt3r - princess

@cosmicloki - love on the rocks(harrington!reader)

@anangelwhodidntfall - inked goddess

@dracomalfoyfanficsplz - eddie and thighs

@justfandomwritings - fearless, guiltless

[dokidokidraft]

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (pt 2 cont.)

(I think I need an actual title for this story. Ideas anyone?)

back to the Stain attack guys! This only second or third season so he doesn’t have his AP shot attack, so his explosions can’t be as targeted. Reader has a water manipulation quirk! This is mostly a fight scene (I suck at writing those) with a bit of fluff but not much 🥲

Warnings: swearing, mild mentions of death (it’s bakugo you should be used to it)

Intro | Part 1

OKAY HERE WE GO:

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud ‘bang!’ as a random civilian was shot across the sky. He would be worried, but he knew there was other rescue heroes. He was more worried about the scene in front of him, which was a towering Nomu standing in between him and you.

“Shit!” Katsuki called, raising a hand up. He had gathered a decent amount of sweat from his trip around the city. “Move outta the way Blue!” He shouted, using the nickname you knew all too well. It was something stupid that happened in your first class with him. You had been marking his work with a blue pen until the ink deciding to go full-on Bakugo at you and exploded, covering your clothes. The memory made you grimace as you rush behind a pile of rubble. But you were too slow, and the Nomu appeared right next to you. Every bone in your body ached as you kept trying to get away. Your movement was quite limited, one of the downsides of overusing your quirk. Many water-related quirk users experience droopy limbs and/or headaches after over usage. Fortunately for you, the headache usually takes a few hours to start up, but you could feel yourself slowing down as you dodged the Nomu’s attacks. Katsuki couldn’t find an opening. The Nomu was always a few steps behind you, and his explosions wouldn’t do much against the huge monster. Fuck, that hyper-regeneration was really annoying on a villain. The gears in his head were spinning. If he could make a big enough explosion, the Nomu would at least be stunned so he could get you to a safe spot, but because of how close the monster was, the explosion would also reach you. Shit, if he burned you again (even by accident), he’d never forgive himself. Your safety was his top priority for some shitty reason. He could see how your body moved irregularly, which worried him. Fuck it, he could ignore his hateful thoughts for half a second because you were about to die for god’s sake. Suddenly, you were thrown backward into an already broken wall, now limp next to it but still awake. What the fuck? How long was he in thought for? Katsuki had froze. Move, goddamn it! He snaps out of it and realizes that from the throw, you were far enough away from the Nomu now. The boy raises his arm once again, using his other one to help support the huge gauntlet. He could feel his gloved hand heat up as he shit a massive explosion at the incoming Nomu, one that shook the ground for a split second. He shouted something you couldn’t quite hear over the ringing in your ears. Were you okay? You better fucking be, he thought, looking back. Seeing that you were in no worse condition, he ran over and picked you up bridal-style. Your eyes fluttered open, e/c orbs staring into his red ones. He now had ash covering his face, and a light sheen of sweat along his forehead. You flipped you around so you were leaning on his side, his armed wrapped around your waist.

You thought he was going to bring you over to the rescue area, but instead he handed you off to another hero. The ringing in your ears was louder than anything else, so you didn’t quite hear what Katsuki had told the hero. In a flash you were lifted into the hero’s arms. Processing everything was difficult in your state, but you managed to make out Katsuki rushing back into the fight with the Nomu, this time with backup from a few low-lying heroes. Your classmate wasn’t exactly happy about that, but he was too focused in the battle to make a snarky comment. That hero holding you apparently had a flying quirk, because before you could yell out to Katsuki, you were lifted into the air, the cool wind doing little to soothe the cuts along your skin.

“Your boyfriend will be okay,” the hero whispered to you. Just those few words almost woke you up completely. “N-no….not m-my boyfriend….” You slurred, mind clouded with pain despite your now heightened sense of realization. “Why’d y-you think that?” “That’s just what he told me,” the hero responded. Those few words made your heart jump. What exactly did Katsuki say? Before you could question the man more, he placed you on a small mat. That’s when you realized you guys had landed and were now in a safe house. You really were out of it if you hadn’t even noticed the landing. Your eyes closed, the exhaustion catching up with you. Finally letting sleep take over, your last thought was ‘Bakugo-kun better be okay….’ A few hours later, the faint sound of footsteps woke you up. Then, a large shadow loomed over you, with glistening crimson eyes.

“You awake, Blue?” The familiar voice called. Nodding and rubbing your eyes, you gazed up to meet the gaze of the disheveled Katsuki. “Nighteye is probably worried.” That’s right, you thought, Nighteye was visiting a friend in Hosu city, bringing the students that had internships with him (you and Mirio) along. Apparently it was for a hero meeting, but surely the meeting was canceled by now. The memories flooded back to you. The damage done to the city was in a small, contained area when you left. What did it look like now? “Oi, extra! You fucking deaf?” Katsuki was alarmingly close now as he looked at you with a scowl.

“Huh? Uh, no. Is Mirio okay? Where even is Sir Nighteye?” You questioned. The boy rolled his eyes and explained that they were just in a different safe house. Once you were reassured by nearby doctors, you calmed down enough to rethink the event of the attack, which brought another memory to mind, one definitely worth talking to him about. “So, you’re my boyfriend now huh?”

Katsuki was a bit out of character but I tried T~T I know Sir Nighteye wasn’t introduced in the show at this point, but it’s essential for the story line ;-;

@kimyoudraft I love you sm so here it is.

Hope you all enjoyed!

[stampy-offical]

Hells little darling au pt 1 random fact.

The first overlord alyx met that was alastor and his friends was Vellette

It ended with a conversation that none of the older generation understood

Stampy had only been truly mad once. His true demon form was rather big and changed with cracks and creaking steam noise. He left a trail of Boiling wax acidic ink and various chemicals across a street. It ended with blood.

Rosie was the reason stampy became a cannibal. He ate her meat pie found out what it was and considered cannibalism if a good enough friend cooks it. He got more comfortable with it when he got friendly with the gang.

Stampys factories make glass and paper products. The one in his office makes trinkets along with metal machine components. His warehouses store anything for a price. The fight rings however are invite only. There's 3 rules.

No outside weapons. Everyone involved will be sent to the ring with you to fight the one the fighters call 'Bull' Bull is the top fighter.

No attacking the staff. They will shoot. They have angel guns.

No informing the Vees or Zesteail about the locations. Zesteail keeps trying to make an acid pit or getting lava around the stage. The vees always make it a production and if he has to deal with ONE MORE VOXTECH ATTEMPT AT BUYING HIM OUT HE WILL PERSONALLY FEED YOU TO ALASTOR

Vox and Carmella had both tried to buy his company. Differences are Carmella settled for a partnership. Vox tried to cheat him and can't take a no.

Stampy has a friendship with the Carmines due to his businesses. Before you ask. No Zesteail dosent see him as an ally. He's just a supplier who gives him good products. (He always orders ceramic or glass goods. Stampy knows its not for his home.)

Stampy is the only one who saw Bull fight and survive. Everyone else died or never knew he existed.

Stampy has picked up wood carving and stone mansion. He's doing a rather good job of multiple products.

Like every overlord he had been summoned at least once to the living world. Unlike the others it was his full body. He never told anyone. The most the overlords think humans can summon are alastors shadow. Stampy meanwhile is filing paperwork about how to show that not all the overlords like blood or hearts as sacrifice.

Stampy's hometown was wiped off the map by a fire and a epidemic. He was blamed for both due to a coincidence of him being a violent youth and people disliking him. (The fire was a chain reaction of a lightning bolt hitting the town church. The epidemics was a nearby river full of bugs.)

Charlie used him as a success story as she accidentally found out through Husk (he's at the hotel cause Angel told him it'd be good for business. Stampys here for Alyx and the younger sinners [I'm an old violent son of a bitch. You kids are here cause of some flying dick who thinks giving kids cancer and food shortage is a good way to have people like him then got his son nailed to a board like a c*** father. Basically. I deserve to be here.]) Because he was an orphaned pickpocket with no last name and only called stampy cause he had a habit to rob post offices.

[writer-with-a-lighter]

urban gods pt 1

It was a coincidence that my bar opened the same day the gods got banished to Earth. It took less than a month for them to find my place, and some seem to like it. They come back every now and then, all flashing eyes and silver rings. They scare me, but they also bring in business, so I can’t complain. 

Apollo comes here, often. When the sun is low and the smell of cigarettes blurs the room, he stumbles in, glowing like the sun— and usually just as high. He sits at the bar counter and orders two gin and tonics, then drinks them both, eyes heavy-lidded. Wasted as he might be, he’s charming, winking at the few waitresses and flashing that smile at me when I ask him if he wants another drink. “Aw, honey,” he always croons, “there’s something sweeter I want a taste of.” And then I usually tell him to go on and get out of my bar if he’s gonna be using that kind of language. When the sun’s rising again, he stumbles out the door, leaving pieces of solid gold at the counter. I always take them, and I’ve gotten a nice pair of shoes that way, but lately I’ve grown wary of those gold pieces. They glimmer strangely in the sunlight and they’re always cold to the touch. But Apollo is a god and his lust for shining things destroyed him, so I guess I can’t be surprised. 

Sometimes it’s Athena who walks in, gray-eyed and serious. She wears men’s slacks and a button-down shirt, and when she raises her fingers to ask for a drink, tattoos line her wrists. She likes wine, and I take care to remember she doesn’t like it sweetened. When she speaks, her voice wraps icy fingers around my spine. Searching, I think. She wants more knowledge. Always more. She knows all there is to know, but her fatal flaw is that it’s never enough. I’ve seen her wandering the streets, eyes filled with an empty fury as she searches the cracks in the sidewalk for more. She reads at the bar, old books in ancient Greek that I can’t decipher no matter how long I stare. When the sun is finally burning off the fog that hangs over the city, she leaves me with silver dollars and a headache that doesn’t seem to leave until the sun goes down. Her aegis is no longer a shield but a golden pin, fastened onto her coat. I once asked her who the snake-haired woman on the pin was, but she shook her head. “No one you know.” Athena is not entirely kind, but she is quiet, and I like quiet customers. 

Unless it’s Hades. He’s too quiet, bottomless eyes watching even when he’s not looking at you. His nose is crooked, no doubt broken by one of his ruthless brothers, but he wears it like armor, jutting his face out sullenly at anyone who looks at him wrong. He knocks back shot after shot and paints his nails, the smell curling around the room like thick ink. I asked him not to do that inside, once, and he looked at me. I fell right through his eyes, toppling over into deep water where scaled creatures waited. My heart slowed, a warning from the god of the dead, and it beats irregularly ever since. He walks with purpose, clad in an old, embroidered leather jacket and black jeans. The embroidered words on his jacket are the names of every mortal who defied him, before his banishment. I let him have his drinks for free— better safe than sorry. He paid me once, though, a handful of beads, dark like the pupils of some monster. Harpy eyes, he told me, and to this day I’m not sure whether I believe him. They sit on my dresser in a glass jar, and sometimes I wake in the night to see them staring at me. Hades sits for hours, often alone, listening to the jukebox play the same song. He’s partial to opera. Who would’ve known?