#the mark and rosie verse

[raina-at]

Family

More in the 'Mark and Rosie' 'verse, and since some of you asked to meet Mark, well, here he is.

-----

“And this is Uncle Greg,” Rosie says, pointing at the picture. They’re curled on the sofa in Rosie’s room, going through Rosie’s old photo album. “He was Paps’ best man,” she adds, pointing him out in the group photo of her fathers’ wedding. 

“He’s a fox,” Mark mutters, putting an arm around Rosie when she pokes him playfully in the ribs. “How are you related to him again?”

“Not at all. He’s Paps’ and Dad’s best friend.”

“You dads have a mutual best friend? That… must have been complicated for him in the past,” Mark observes, keeping his tone carefully neutral. He knows a lot of family history from Rosie, and he imagines navigating between these two strong but complicated men can’t always have been easy.

Rosie shrugs. “It’s not so bad. He’s sharing Paps with Aunt Molly, and she takes most of the emotional stuff. Dad’s far more stiff upper lip, so he and Greg mostly go to the pub and watch rugby.”

“Who’s Aunt Molly again?”

Rosie points to her in the group picture. “She had a bit of a pash on Paps, but she got over it, thank god.” She shudders. “Can’t imagine what she was thinking, Paps would have eaten her alive.”

“Some people like that,” Mark says, giving Rosie an insinuating smile.

Rosie blushes adorably and mutters, “Shut up, my dads are downstairs.”

“I told you we should have gone to mine.” 

Rosie rolls her eyes. “If you’re not interested, just say so,” she says, making to rise.

Mark pulls her back and kisses her neck in apology. “Sorry, sweets. Just teasing. Of course I’m interested. Especially since sooner or later I’m going to meet all of these people, and if they’re even a bit like your fathers, most of them will threaten to kill me, so I’d better learn about their weaknesses.”

Rosie laughs. “True enough.” She opens the album again and points at the pictures. “Uncle Mycroft won’t even have to threaten you, he’ll just give you a look, and that’ll be enough to put the fear of god into you. Greg and Molly are probably both going to be fairly direct about it, but they’re actually harmless. Nan and Granddad will probably not threaten you at all, they’re too polite. Fair warning, though, Hudders can get dangerous. Don’t underestimate her under any circumstances. I know she’s eighty-five and looks like Mary Poppins’ gran, but she’ll take you aside at some point and threaten to cut your balls off, and believe me, she’ll be completely serious and capable of doing it.”

Mark swallows, looking from the picture to the girl next to him. She’s radiant today. Hair in a messy ponytail, ancient jumper, ripped jeans, entirely at ease in her skin as always. It’s the most attractive thing about her, that complete self-confidence. She’s brilliant and beautiful, of course, but what makes her irresistible to him is the air of a person who can’t imagine what it’s like not to be loved unconditionally. Looking at the group of people making up Rosie’s family, he understands why now. Must be nice, he thinks. Knowing so many people would get murderously violent on your behalf. 

“What?” Rosie asks, blushing a bit under his scrutiny. “I know my family’s weird, and a lot—”

Mark puts a finger over her lips and smiles. “Ro, every family’s weird. We all have aunts we’re not related to and weird uncles and friends we love as siblings. I was just thinking that I hope one of these days they’ll protect me too.”

Rosie grins and leans in, brushing a soft kiss over his lips. Her eyes are fierce and flinty, and he’s reminded of both her fathers when she says, “Don’t worry, love. That’s my job.”

Mark pulls her in for a long kiss, thinking, If I get murdered for this girl, I’ll die a happy death.

---

I need a name for this 'verse at some point.

Tags under the cut as always, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @salmonsown @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty

[dewdropdinosaur]

Well Ain't You A Looker?

ALASTOR x (F) READER

Summary: You and Alastor are from two completely different worlds, eras even. So what happens when you try and maybe understand his world a bit more?

Warnings: NONE

If you would like a GN version of this, feel free to ask!(REQUESTS ARE OPEN, see pinned post for details)

This is based off a request from the dearest @anon-of-the-void

Y/N and Alastor had always been inseparable. From their time of meeting to an interesting friendship and now as they donned a romantic relationship, almost nothing had kept them apart. Their relationship was a whirlwind of laughter, shared musical interests, and undeniable chemistry. But there was always an unspoken barrier between them – the gap of time separating their worlds: Alastor being from the 1930s and Y/N being from the early 2000s. 

Often one would use terms, mannerisms, or speak of time relevant events that left the other utterly confused and needing clarification. This tension often accompanied dinner, walks around Hell, and even small talk in the Hotel. While both were a great match, it certainly wasn't one made in Heaven. As their relationship approached its six-month mark, Y/N found herself curious about Alastor's origins. She longed to understand the era from which he hailed. Determined to bridge the gap between their worlds, Y/N sought guidance from Rosie the Overlord, a figure well-versed in the ways of the past and a very good…if the only…friend of Alastor. 

And so, after a few weeks of secret planning, Y/N found herself in the bustling underworld, making her way to Rosie's domain. The Overlord welcomed her with open arms, her peppy demeanor softened by genuine curiosity. Rosie, intrigued by Y/N's eagerness, took her under her wing. Secretly relishing the chance to indulge her penchant for mischief, Rosie adorned Y/N in elegant 1930s attire, complete with a brown dress and a cloche hat. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Rosie schooled Y/N in the art of 1930s slang and mannerisms, eager to see her impress her demon beau.

"Ah, so you're the lucky one who's captured Alastor's heart," Rosie remarked with a knowing smirk. "Well, darling, if you want to understand the 1930s, you've come to the right place."

Meanwhile, Alastor, with his keen senses, couldn't help but notice Y/N's newfound enthusiasm for his era over the past few weeks and her sudden absence. He observed her with silent amusement, marveling at her determination to understand his world. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, Alastor's heart swelled with affection for the woman who had stolen it. No one had quite done anything for him like Y/N did, so imagine his surprise when one evening, as the crimson hues of dusk painted the sky, Y/N made her grand entrance. 

Adorned in her vintage ensemble, she exuded an air of timeless elegance, her eyes sparkling with newfound confidence. Alastor, lounging in his parlor, couldn't tear his gaze away from her.

"Darling, what's all this?" Alastor inquired, his voice a melodic blend of curiosity and admiration.

Y/N flashed him a dazzling smile, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. "I wanted to understand your world better, Alastor. So…I sought Rosie's help."

Alastor's grin widened, a glint of pride shining in his crimson eyes. "Well, ain’t you a looker?" he chuckled, extending a hand to his beloved as suddenly his microphone decided to play some tunes as if from an old LP. 

As they waltzed across the room, Alastor couldn't resist whispering sweet words of encouragement to Y/N. "You may be from a different time, my dear, but your beauty transcends all eras."

With each step, their love blossomed, a testament to the timeless nature of their bond. For in the depths of Hell, amidst the chaos and despair, Alastor and Y/N found solace in each other's arms. As they danced to the crackling tune of an old record, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in Alastor's world and he found a sense of belonging in hers. And as they laughed and twirled through the night, she realized that, no matter the time period, their love would always transcend the boundaries of time and space.

[natalievoncatte]

“Your son just kicked me, Miss Luthor-Danvers.”

Kara looked over to the couch, where Lena bad stopped reading her book, which now lay propped on the dome of her stomach. She looked absolutely exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes, marring paler than usual skin.

The pregnancy was taking its toll on Lena, but just as difficult for Lena was the order to remain on pelvic rest, as were the Herculean caloric requirements of gestating a Kryptonian child on Earth. Lena Luthor was the type of woman who grew more fatigued from orders to lay up in bed, and Kara had to practically bat her phone out of her hand to stop her from answering emails at all hours of the night.

Kara swung out from behind the kitchen island, carrying another smoothie with a carefully selected mix of fruits, vegetables, and protein powder.

“Blegh,” Lena said, as she choked down a gulp of the stuff. Does it have to be so sweet?”

Kara didn’t answer. Lena looked haggard by her own usual standards, but to Kara, she was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Yes, she was pale, but there as a rosy glow in her cheeks and though she sighed and complained and groused, rarely had there been such joy in her eyes. One of Kara’s new favorite things was catching Lena unawares, finding her smiling at nothing and cradling protective arms around the new life coming to being within her.

After she gulped down the last of the thick, gloppy shake -which Lena had given the appetizing name of ‘nutrient slurry mark one’, she turned halfway on the couch.

“There he goes again,” said Lena, sighing.

Kara reached out with a trembling hand, resting it gently on the warm curve of Lena’s skin. She went quiet for a moment, forcing back the tears. Thinking about this overwhelmed her. She’d never dreamed she’d really have this, much less with the most beautiful and kind woman she’d ever known. A soft twitch against her palm made her grin from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this. I’d like to get some sleep.”

Kara chewed at her lip for a moment.

“What if I try singing to him?”

Lena raised a sharp eyebrow.

“Alex gave me an article that says that babies can hear us while they’re in the womb.”

Lena’s head fell back against the cushions.

“Do you know any lullabies?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as Kara worked herself up, pulling the words from the lost days of her youth, across an ocean of stars beneath a far distant sun.

She more spoke than sang at first, until her voice grew into something soft and light, like a rare flower opening its petals to greet the sun. By the time she really began to sing, Lena was smiling, listening intently.

Kara dug deep in her memory for the words to the traditional Kryptonian lullaby, a promise from a young mother to her child lost in the wilderness, an invocation to come home safe to loving arms before the reunited in the final verses.

When Kara finished she looked up and saw that Lena was fast asleep, her hand now resting atop Kara’s as it rested on Lena’s belly. Tenderly, Kara drew her hand back and, with practiced ease, raised Lena in her arms and carried her back to the bedroom, another Kryptonian verse flowing softly from old memories, and the eventually they slept, until sunrise.

[am-i-interrupting]

Commission Rules

You can send me a message on here. I need a description of what you want from the story, any specific phrases or moments you desire, and a characters/ships you would like to see in it.

I have the right to refuse any commission request for any reason. You can ask me why if I do and I will provide an explanation but please, be respectful or be blocked.

Prices & Payments

If these prices are too much for you, you can send me however much you want on kofi and a request and I will put it in a priority list in my requests. This method includes the characters I don’t usually write for which are marked below with italics. That does not mean it will be done immediately but it will be put above other requests.

For canon stories: 1 cents per word. $1 per 100 words. $10 per 1,000 words

For /reader stories: 2 cents per word. $2 per 100 words. $20 per 1,000 words

The reasoning for the price difference is simple. With canon characters, there are already pre-set characterizations and physicalities to work with that are simply not there for /reader stories so I have to learn an entirely new personality/physicality to write them.

If you are requesting a /reader story and would like for it to be specific to you instead of general, provide pronouns, general description of personality & physicality, and if you want a (nick)name.

What I Will Write

For canon stories only, I will write platonic relationships between most any characters.

For canon stories only, I will write stories for the following ships:

Adam/Lute | Alastor/Angel Dust | Alastor/Angel Dust/Husk | Alastor/Husk | Alastor/Vox | Angel Dust/Husk | Charlie/Vaggie | Cherri Bomb/Sir Pentious | Lute/Vaggie | Valentino/Vox

For /reader stories, I will write platonic or familial relationships between most any characters.

For /reader stories, I will write romantic or sexual stories for the follow characters & feel free to send me poly commission requests involving a combination of any of these characters:

Adam | Alastor | Carmilla Carmine | Charlie Morningstar | Cherri Bomb | Husk | Lucifer Morningstar | Lute | Rosie | Sir Pentious | Valentino | Velvette | Vox

For both canon & /reader stories, I will write angst, dead dove do not eat, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff, human/meet in life, hurt/comfort, kink, mutual pining, NSFW, omega-verse, one-sided attraction, soulmate aus, and much more that I’m not naming because the list of what I will write is fucking long as shit.

For both canon & /reader stories, I will not write crossovers, heavy blindfolds, male pregnancy, & modern aus.

If you have any questions or there was something I missed, send me an ask.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

VALENTINE'S DAY FICS (Updated Feb 2024)

Well, I never got an ask for an updated list and I WAS going to reblog my own V-Day Fic list from a few years ago, but it's pitifully small compared to all the other lists I have come across. Instead, I decided to update it with all the fics I have on my MFL list as well, so I hope you guys enjoy this brand new list for Fic Rec Wednesday! Please add your own V-Day fics if you have them! Enjoy!!

See also these Other Peoples' Lists:

Valentine’s Day (Alexx)

Clean Valentine’s List (Alexx)

Mystrade Valentine’s (Various)

Cupidford’s Valentine’s Fics

Valentine’s Day + Update 2022 (SwissMiss)

Be my Valentine - Johnlock Collection (AO3 Collection List)

Atrium by kali_asleep (T, 3,460 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and One, Valentine’s Day, Fluff & Schmoop, First Kiss) – Five times Sherlock gave John his heart, and the one time Sherlock got a heart in return (literally).

Lingerie by Sexxica (E, 4,135 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Lingerie / Women’s Underwear, Mildly Public Masturbation, Picture Texting / Sexting, Bottomlock, Body Worship, Anal Sex / Fingering, Rimming, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Est. Rel.) – It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner. Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes. There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn't Know He's Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine's Day Ever by unicornpoe (T, 9,832 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He's also pretty sure that John doesn't know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine's Day.

MARKED FOR LATER

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.

Worth Its Weight by philalethia (E, 2,986 w., 1 Ch. || Sugar Daddy AU || PWP, Daddy Sherlock, Daddy Kink, Service Domination, Gift Giving, Unsafe Sex, Sex Toys) – “Remember,” John said, “when we talked about you not buying me extravagant things?” Basically: a little bit of Valentine's Day daddy kink. Part 2 of All the Rest 'Verse

The Importance of February 14th by cypress_tree (T, 3,156 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Valentine’s Day) – Sherlock was born on Valentine's Day. John doesn't know this and invites him out on a date. Sherlock assumes it's a birthday celebration and believes so right up until the moment John kisses him.

Dinner and a Murder by vintagelilacs (T, 4,210 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Valentine’s Day, Online Dating, Mutual Pining, Confessions, Getting Together, POV John, Oblivious John) – Reluctant to spend Valentine’s Day alone, John joins a dating app only to realize he’s already living with the closest thing to a soulmate he’s ever going to get.

The Best Idea by SatanDrankMyCoffee (T, 7,252 w.,  5 Ch. || Valentine's Day, Bubble Bath, Hair Washing, People-Watching, Anxiety, Domestic Fluff/Bliss, Texting) – Gift giving is something Sherlock is usually quite good at but when the parameters change, he becomes unsure of himself. Which gift idea is the best idea? Part 3 of A Year in Occasions

Daddy's Darling by distantstarlight (E, 7,747 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Daddy Kink, Valentine’s Day, Smut, First Time) – Disguises are part of the package when you work as detectives, there was nothing new about that but one day Sherlock goes undercover with his best friend and they discover more than the answer to the crime.

Valentine’s Night Out by CarmillaCarmine (E, 10,120 w., 5 Ch. || ASiB Canon Divergence, Valentine’s Day, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Breath Play, Butt Plugs, Deep Throating, Humour, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Anal Sex) – John and Sherlock have been invited to join their friends at a pub for Valentine's Day. Sherlock has plans to spice the evening up a bit. Part 4 of the The Johnlock Holidays and Celebrations Series

The Heart of the Matter by prettysailorsoldier (T, 13,427 w., 1 Ch. || Teenager AU || Secret Admirer, Secret Crush, Texting, Valentine’s Day, Fluff) – It's the annual Valentine's Week fundraiser, carnations, conversation hearts, and singing telegrams (oh my!) making their way around the school corridors, and Sherlock Holmes has quite happily never received any of them. So, when he gets a box of conversation hearts containing a message from a secret admirer, his first instinct is that it's an elaborate practical joke, but, as he and his mystery suitor begin texting, he starts to wonder if there might be something to this Valentine's Day lark after all. There is, however, the entirely unrelated problem of one John Watson to contend with before he can be sure. Part 3 of 221B Mine

Not this year by Imjohnlocked87 (E, 16,293 w., 4 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting ||  Friends to Lovers, Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Smut, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food Sex, Wall Sex, Angst with Happy Ending) – One month after leaving the rehabilitation centre, when Donovan asks Sherlock if he will be alone on Valentine's Day this year too, he replies he will be spending it with someone special.The only problem is that this someone doesn't exist.Because who would want to have Valentine's date with Sherlock Holmes? 

Quo Fata Vocant by prettysailorsoldier (E, 18,115 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock / Teenlock ||  Librarians, Bisexual John, Flirting, First Time, Tattoos, Valentine’s Day, Secret Admirer, Matchmaker) – Sherlock is enamored with one of the employees at the university library, wiling away hours of his days just to catch a glimpse of the dynamic John Watson: captain of the rugby team, event manager for the LGBT society, and third-year medical student. Of course, being only a first-year, it's unlikely John will ever notice him. At least, until fate (and a little well-intentioned meddling) intervenes.

[mariagreenwoodart]

Probably should make a pinned post while I'm at it.

Hi! My name is Maria! I'm 17 years old and I do digital (and sometimes traditional) art! My main platform is YouTube, so if you like my art on here, please consider subbing to my YouTube channel!

My yt channel: https://youtube.com/@MariaGreenwoodArt?si=Nfi78I3dTd0639Im

My special interests:

Fortnite

Genshin impact

Five nights at Freddy's

The owl house

Marvel Cinematic Universe (though I'm kinda losing interest)

Spider-verse

My Little Pony: friendship is magic (DON'T JUDGE OKAY)

Star Wars

Hamilton

Six the musical

Wonka

Barbie

Disney

Welcome home (I have a separate blog for that- @maria-greenwood-neighbour!)

The amazing digital circus (again, separate blog- @maria-greenwood-digital-circus)

Taylor Swift

Amulet book series

Cuphead

Literally anything historical, but especially the victorian era

My hero academia

Hazbin hotel (but only a little bit)

Stardew valley

Pokemon (especially scarlet and violet)

Super Mario

DC comics

Scratchin' Melodii

Poppy playtime (blame my brother)

Epic: the musical

Ramshackle

ENA

I'll be adding more. Mark my words.

Do not interact if:

Racist

Sexist

Homophobic

Zoophile

Furry hater

Pedo

NSFW blog

You judge people based on religion

Proshipper/comshipper

It's fine if you don't like something that I do, but please don't hate.

By the way I AM A MINOR.

Tags:

Walmart my puffy friends- a greeting I say in all of my yt videos

:3- :3

Malarkey :3- CHAOSSSS

Art- duh

Not my art- when I post fanart of my characters/persona that I get on yt/insta (doesn't happen a lot)

My wife- basically anything with Antonia (fortnite).

Father/my girlfriend- anything with arlecchino (genshin impact). (she's not my father that's just what her title is)

Ramblings of a Swiftie- basically when I start rambling about the most random stuff about taylor Swift

My favourite moots

@avokadothorne

@pan-anarcho

@scally-wiggles716

@simplylatte

@sketchquill

@miahearts

My birthday is April 15th for anyone who wants to give me a gift of some sort!

Oh and I'm british

My f/os:

My main f/o(s):

Antonia (fortnite)

Ship name: maritonia

Emoji combo: 💜💰/💰💜 (purple heart is me, money bag is Antonia)

Relationship status: Married

Beidou (Genshin Impact)

Ship name: Beidana

Emoji combo: 🏴‍☠️🎵/🎵🏴‍☠️ (pirate flag is beidou, music note is Ariana)

Relationship status: dating

Romantic:

Nisha (fortnite) (ship name: amelisha)

Montague (fortnite)

Valeria (fortnite)

Aphrodite (fortnite) (ship name: aphronelope)

Midas (fortnite)

Marigold (fortnite)

Jules (fortnite)

Doctor Slone (fortnite) (ship name: echoslone)

Ga ming (genshin impact)

Neuvillette (genshin impact) (ship name: chevalette)

Venti (genshin impact) (ship name: aeriven)

Lisa (genshin impact) (ship name: marilisa)

Raiden Shogun/Ei (genshin impact) (ship name: blossomblade/sakurei)

Arlecchino (Genshin Impact) (ship name: arlerosa)

Wally Darling (Welcome Home) (ship name: walleve)

Nemona (pokemon scarlet and violet)

Vinnie (Ramshackle) (ship name: vinnivy)

Family:

Alastor (hazbin hotel)

Rosie (hazbin hotel)

Lilith Clawthorne (the owl house)

Ford Pines (gravity falls)

Friendship:

Ballister Boldheart (nimona)

Angel Dust (hazbin hotel)

Barbie

Glamrock Freddy (FNaF security breach)

Roxanne Wolf (FNaF security breach)

Vanessa (FNaF security breach)

I am fine with sharing f/os!

[hutaoscoffinn]

FRIENDS TO FUCKERS

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, lesbian sex, afab! Reader (reader has a vagina), oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, friends to lovers implied, implied several rounds, implied overstimulation

Character: Fu Hua

Word Count: 1,170

Requests: CLOSED

Fu Hua has been one of your closest friends ever since your early high school years. She is always someone you can turn to for all types of matters. Well… almost all types.

Unfortunately, while Fu Hua is well versed in all types of academics like chemistry, mathematics, biology, language, and even non academic conflicts you might find yourself struggling with, she is horrible at handling situations that involve feelings. Especially her own.

All of your friends have said your attraction to Fu Hua was obvious. So obvious that all of you wondered how the hell your mutual friend could be so oblivious. It genuinely led you to believe that Fu Hua had no romantic interest in you. Every attempted confession you gave her, telling her how much you like her while your cheeks warmed and blood rushed to your head, she always responded with a simple, “Oh, I like you too— you are one of my closest friends after all.”

The friend zone had become something you were well acquainted with. I mean, she has been friend zoning you all this time right? No matter what Elysia and the others may have said, claiming that Fu Hua did not know that you meant romantic feelings and insisting that she does indeed like you back, their words fell on deaf ears.

Until now, that is.

“To think I missed out on this for years,” Fu Hua groans, her hands gripping your thighs as she holds them wide open, her tongue diving in between your folds as she greedily slurps up your juices. Your eyes roll back, back arching as Fu Hua sucks your clit into her mouth.

Her tongue is heavenly and the moans that leave her throat as she lavishes your slick pussy with attention are a siren’s song. Her grip on your thighs is bruising, leaving pretty red marks and bruises where she grips you tight. Those along with the hickeys she sucked along the journey to your begging pussy that are turning a pretty shade of lavender are flowering into a masterpiece of her design. Her nails left imprints on your shoulders from where she tugged you close and kissed your lips until they were rosy and swollen. Your chest is covered in bite marks and more of the red and purple flowers she gifted you trail from your neck down.

Fu Hua has made you a beautiful mess of her design. But, that is not to say that your lovely Hua is not a mess herself.

Her hair that is usually so neatly done is a mess as her bangs stick to her forehead and cheeks, the tips kissed by your juices as she messily devours all you have to offer her. Her cheeks and chin are slicked by you and her own lips are puffy and a pretty shade of scarlet from kissing down your body and sucking greedily at her prize. Her back is littered with red marks from your nails clawing down her porcelain skin as she kissed you senseless in multiple places.

“Fuck baby, you taste so fucking good,” Fu Hua pants out the words, catching her breath for a split second before dragging her tongue up your throbbing cunt. Her nails dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs as she drags you closer to her mouth. Your thighs are pushed over her shoulders as she presses her face closer to your puffy pussy. She sucks your swollen clit into her mouth and suckles on the mound of flesh as her tongue teases the tip of it. The sensation has your thighs quivering, whiny moans escaping your throat as you drown in the addictive pleasure that Fu Hua is so kind to gift you.

You can feel her smirk against you as your own song reaches her ears. She releases your clit and peers up at you with an amused look in her eyes.

“C’mon baby, really sing for me,” she chuckles and winks at you before swirling her tongue around your clit.

“Oh god Hua,” you moan out her name, fingers tangling into her mess of steel hair as she noisily laps and sucks at your pussy. The vibrations against your sensitive folds as she chuckles against you cause your body to twitch.

Fu Hua can tell that you are close, so close to making a pretty mess just for her.

Two of her slender fingers slide into you and angle up to press against the exact spot that she knows will make you break for her. Your eyes roll back, moans getting louder and longer as Fu Hua practically makes out with your swollen clit as her fingers pump into your pussy rhythmically. Every push and prod of her tongue paired with her fingers is intense. Heat grows in your abdomen until it is almost unbearable. Your thighs shake and quiver to the point that Fu Hua has to adjust her hold on you in order to keep you from squirming out of her grip. She sucks harder, nipping at your clit as her fingers push faster and faster into you.

When you snap, you can hardly tell that you are cumming.

Your body tenses, a high pitched whine leaving your lips as the pleasure boils over. Everything feels mind numbing and too intense all at the same time. Your eyes roll back before squeezing shut, starbursts clouding your vision for what feels like only a few seconds.

When you have clarity from your blissful haze, you can feel Fu Hua’s lips and tongue on your thighs. Blindly, you reach for her and you can feel her weight shift on the bed before her lips press against yours.

You can taste yourself on her tongue. Tangy and acidic with a hint of sweetness that has you wanting more, wanting to taste her instead. After a few seconds, her lips pull away from your own and she kisses down your neck and under your jaw as you pant softly. Her kisses leave you breathless.

The skin on her sides is soft and you try to pull her closer.

“Hua.”

“Yes baby?” Her voice is smooth as she lifts her body away from you, her hands moving back down as she spreads your thighs apart. You had not even realized they closed.

“I…” you can feel heat crawl up the back of your neck to the tips of your ears as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I wanna taste you too,” you finally mumble after a heavy pause.

“Hmmm,” she hums in consideration and she feels her thighs squeeze together at the thought. But, she will be saving that desire for another day. She is not through with you quite yet. “Another time angel, I’m not done with you just yet.”

Her fingers press back into your throbbing pussy, and your eyes roll back as Fu Hua begins the second round, the start of several more that she is going to put your poor little pussy through.

Reblogs are always appreciated <3

[jakes3resin]

OKAY THE ABO STALAG FIC - talk to me about the roles and behaviour of the subgenders in your ABO verse. Are there packs? So I get from your tags that Buckys pheromons can influence people's moods - so when he's happy, they're calm. Does that play into why Bucky is all loud and sunshine incarnate in England - because his omega is telling him that its his responsibility to keep the boys as calm as possible?

Okay, so packs in my A/B/O verse are sorta of tiered. There's the 100th who are one large pack (this includes ground crew, the brass, and other miscellaneous officials) with the Head Alpha being whoever is the highest ranked person in charge, and its more official than personal. Then there are what I call plane packs, boys who work the same plane (often this draws in a favored member of the ground crew (like Ken) and some people who can jump into a seat/role - navigators seems to jump planes more frequently so that roles fits them and Bucky would also fit this for Brady's plane pack seeing as he flew with them you know?). These are really, really important during missions.

After plane packs are personal packs, usually your besties, bunkmates, and mate(s), and there's a lot of meandering personal pack lines with overlaps and such. When that happens, there's usually a sort of collective group decision to be under one Alpha for any conflicts and worries, which in my universe is Buck then Rosie when Buck goes down. Jack Kidd is also considered like a secondary Head Alpha because he's Air Exec, but he's so busy trying to keep everyone alive that he can't be primary Head Alpha. He deserves a break.

Bucky, by nature of being the highest ranked Omega and the former Air Exec with a penchant for making friends, ends up in a lot of people's personal packs as well as someone who checks everyone's moods and temperature. By virtue of being in so many packs, he's given a de facto position of authority where after the group Alpha, his decisions are most respected. Other people who end up being in a lot of packs are: Ken, Rosie, and Croz.

Part of the reason Bucky gets sent over first is because the Air Force knows they need to set up a welcoming atmosphere, and Omegas do that. It's why Bucky tries so hard to be bright when the boys touch down in England, and it hurts him being unable to really warn them about what the missions are really like.

Bucky takes it upon himself to see to it that every Omega is okay on base to ensure a good atmosphere, which further cements his place as overall Pack Omega. He does view it as his responsibility, but he's also happy to do it, at least in the beginning. He's good at it because he's a people person, and the boys, Omega or not, all feel better after he stops by. Once the war starts to really take a toll on Bucky's mental health, these visits slow down as Bucky can't force his usual level of cheer. This has a snowball effect because the boys start to buckle some without that extra support and the upset Omega pheromones which in turn makes Bucky feel worse and so on and so forth.

Omegas sort of act as energizers (that's the best word I can think of right now) where their pheromones have the ability to make you feel what they're feeling, usually these are positive emotions because Omegas are like happy pills for packs. Their scents are usually brighter, with positive, happy connotations that help them keep everyone happy. Betas keep things level. Their scents are closer to neutral, and they're the best at clearing out the scents of unhappy Omegas or raging Alphas. Alphas have sharper scents, and they tend to have slightly more dominating scents due to their instincts wanting to protect and mark their pack. This results in packs needing a balance of all three dynamics to stay healthy. A pack with only Alphas will get stuck in a feedback loop that can turn violent. The same goes for the other dynamics.

In Stalag Luft III, that's where pack lines have to be reworked. Your pack is your original regiment plus whoever you are bunking with. Of course, there are some exceptions where packs become close enough they become one even if they aren't from the same regiment (see the Tuskegee Airmen and the 100th because the boys all become good friends. This is sped along by Benny and Buck both bringing them into the fold due to their friendships within the Tuskegee Airmen.)

Bucky gets a bit of the odd man out treatment as once again he's the highest ranked Omega there, and the Germans use that. Often to Bucky's own detriment as he is in no shape to focus on keeping the Omegas safe. (Inspired by Bucky and Buck being at the meeting with the German head of camp and the Colonel (I'm not sure what his name is) after the British prisoners escape) This means that if the Germans have an announcement for just the Omegas, Bucky gets called in to deal with it. (This is a spoiler for my fic btw!)

This fic has such a deep background in my head that genuinely I'm not sure how to convey it, so this ask was really fun to answer! Thank you!

[fbfh]

ok ok that last loud simp eddie piece you did literally killed me and resurrected me at the same time i love a good angsty fic gahhh

Apology video coming soon. Until then fluffy dad!Eddie mom/parent!reader content

He insists the entire time you're pregnant that it's a girl. You tell him it's a 50/50 chance, that no one knows.

"I do." He says it definitively, the way he used to tell you back in high school that you're going to end up together someday, end up exactly where you are now. Even after being together for so long, you still wake up to him touching your face, gazing at you like he wants to kiss you, the way he always has. Now in between smothering your face with the most loving adoring kisses, more than you knew a person was capable of, he kisses your belly, caressing each new stretch mark as it appears and talking to your baby.

"hi princess," he smiles. his confidence is unwavering. you start to think you might be having a girl too. three trimesters later your baby, a healthy little girl you name Rose, is welcomed into the world. watching Eddie hold her, it hits you that he was right again. he's an amazing dad, easily the best you've ever seen. uncle Gareth and uncle Jeff - among your other close friends and family - come to visit often, and there's usually someone over to help with the baby and the housework and spend a little quality time with. once his paternity leave is up and he starts going to the studio again to write corroded coffin's next album with the guys, and he's just overflowing with ideas. He's never been more inspired, felt more right than he did holding your baby. much later when their next tour rolls around, he surprises the crowd with an unreleased song, only played in the nursery in your home together; the lullaby he wrote your daughter. he sings more tenderly, more heartfelt than you've ever seen him, and Rose becomes a fan favorite encore at their shows. during one of those shows, you wait for him in the wings, your daughter now walking and hugging your leg. at the end of the song she slips away, running on stage and crying out for her dad. he greets her with a smile, scooping her up and hugging her close.

"hi dad!" she babbles.

"hi Rosie," he coos. she smiles up at him just like you do, her rainbow brite sweater shining under the stage lights.

"do you want to say hi?" he asks, holding up a mic. she leans in and babbles out a hi, waving to the crowd. he finishes the last verse of the song with the angel he wrote it for in his arms. you wave at him from the wings, and his chest sqeezes, realizing his dreams really have come true. none of them have ever seen a crowd full of metal heads cry and fawn as much as they did that night.

[spoondrifts]

a quick charity tsv character study, because oh how she intrigues me <3 full fic under the cut, reblogs appreciated :)

Every name in this world has two meanings, one buried. Charity keeps her name’s first meaning on the tip of her tongue, wrapping herself in it like a fine cloth: kindness and tolerance in judgment. It is the first thing people think when she introduces herself, her first impression. In Marcel’s Crossing, when they venture into town on those rare occasions that they need something the forest cannot provide, the clerks and cashiers and vendors would smile warmly at the rosy-cheeked young thing who proudly named herself Charity, cooing sweetly, saying, “A pretty name for a pretty little girl”, and her parents would also smile, knowing.

Charity grows and learns the forest like her own skin, lives within it much the same. By the time she’s ten years old, she can navigate Penda’s Slake alone and mapless, sensing her way by the shudder of the birch trees and the crackling of the brush beneath small, pattering feet. The snare-dogs slither white and sinuous in the corner of her eyes, jaws splitting, snapping, protecting her.

The god of the Slake cradles her, its budding, blooming hunter.

* * *

The chapel in the woods is rotted and abandoned, but it hums with holiness. Her parents take her there every day and teach her to scrawl the hallway’s prayer marks, never entering, never risking their own hallowing, but instructing from safety, from a distance.

Her mother tells the same story, every time they go. “My grandfather found our god here, at Penda’s Slake,” she says in low, lyrical tones. The name of the forest always rang sweetest in her mouth. “A god of leading and chasing. Of hunting, and being hunted. A god that was both predator and prey.” She shifts Charity in her arms, encouraging her to look up at the collapsed chapel. “My grandfather learned those prayer marks from hunting here.”

“What did he hunt?” Charity asks.

“Rabbit, elk, deer, anything that fled. And when he split them open, their blood soaked the soil and grew beautiful flowers, and inside these flowers he read the words of our god’s hymns.”

Then Charity follows her father’s steady hands as he practices the marks in the grass, drawing with thick whorls of elk’s blood dipped from a glass jar. The snare-dogs loll about in the clearing around the three of them, rolling in the rustling grass and panting in the evening summer heat. Loyal beasts, when they were sated.

“Here,” her father says, guiding her small fingers into the cooled blood. “Go on.”

Charity traces the prayer marks dutifully. Her parents’ pride warbles between them like a livewire, hot and comforting. Globs of shining red cling to her fingertips and slick down her hand, dripping onto her pale wrist. She thinks about putting her tongue to it and lapping it up.

* * *

The sacrifices usually struggle; not because they don’t understand what’s happening to them, but because they do.

Charity is fifteen. This is her first sacrifice alone, her first gift to her god that is truly hers. The man whimpers and trembles under his sackcloth, moaning senselessly in agony; his wrists are bound with barbed wire, seeping blood, his ankles chained together with wrought iron.

He staggers, nearly tripping, but she yanks him back upright. She’s strong and fit from hours of racing through the trees alongside the snare-dogs, dodging their drooling fangs when they got too zealous and began nipping at her ankles, from hours of clambering up swaying birches, hugging the trees with her whole body, listening to the shrill cicada-song in the eaves of the world.

“Please, please,” the sacrifice cries, voice muffled and quashed by the sackcloth. His fear sweetens the air like a fragrant perfume, makes her shiver with anticipation.

She shushes him. Penda’s Slake is still and silent. Waiting. Hungry. She opens herself up to the nearing chase, its thrilling heat settling like gnawing teeth around her throat, and begins to sing her favorite hymn: “We will bring you terror, and you will bring us meat. You will make me savage, we will make you fleet...”

The sacrifice cries out and starts to struggle in earnest now, but it doesn’t matter—they’ve arrived at the chapel.

The hunt begins.

* * *

Charity is eighteen and her parents are weakening, growing ill and lame. Her mother struggles up and down the front porch stairs on ailing legs; her father’s hands spasm uncontrollably when he winds his traps. There comes a day when they sit her down in their living room, hands clasped, and tell her what must be done.

And because she has a responsibility, she does it.

The snare-dogs, when they finally catch her mother and her father, rend their transfigured bodies with razor teeth, spilling the meat of them into the grass and howling with twinned mourning and rapture, jaws gaping and glistening crimson. Charity is crying when she gets down on her hands and knees, wild, chasing, euphoric, and her face unfurls like a brilliant red flower as she sinks her new spooling jaws into her mother’s elk-boned throat.

* * *

Charity’s god has a thirst that must be quenched.

The people of Marcel’s Crossing are too jaded, too suspicious to follow her into the woods any longer; she sets her sights on the larger towns to the north, where the people know nothing of true woodland and even less of true divinity.

She packs her bags like a naive young woman might, with moleskin journals and soft, colorful dresses and big round glasses that make her look cross-eyed and gently bewildered at all times. She leaves her hunting rifle, her sleek steel knives, her book of hymns. She practices a smile in the mirror that is stupid instead of feral.

She wanders for three days in the town of Vanderwelt. She spends three irritating days asking stupid passersby for directions, taking meaningless tours of dull museums, and chewing on tasteless croissants on street corners before a man named Gareth buys her a coffee one morning and she knows she’s struck gold.

Gareth is perfect. He falls for her hair-twirling, forgetful mask like a gormless rodent stepping right into the maw of a greater beast. She looks up his name’s first meaning when he isn’t around and has to laugh. Chivalrous. Modest. Gentle. He would certainly like to see himself that way. The librarian has to ask her to be quiet or leave.

When he asks her to move in with him, she acquiesces with fluttering lashes and a carefully-curated grateful stammer. She polishes the art of “forgetting” her glasses in his flat so that he feels competent when he guides her from place to place, pointing out treacherous curbs or rising steps that she cannot see. They have dates in the shittiest little diners, eating food that’s always rubbery and bland because he likes to share, to feel like he’s providing for her, and he prefers his steaks well done. Charity bears this indignity with twisty little smiles that Gareth can interpret any way he wants.

He’s terrible in bed.

She hums the melodies of her hymns as she combs her fingers through his hair. He tilts his head, raising a curious eyebrow.

“That’s a pretty tune. What’s that from?”

Charity pets the side of his soft face and imagines what he might look like with birch-white flesh. “Oh, I don’t know. I must have heard it on the radio.”

* * *

She mentions Penda’s Slake only in passing, enough to seed intrigue without forcing the issue. And, predictably, Gareth pretends as though it’s his idea to visit her childhood home, his idea to take a hiking trip through her sacred woods, his idea to map a loop to the freshwater springs that stem from the White Gull River.

Charity pretends to be charmed to hide her slavering hunger.

* * *

That woman—that desecrating, defiling, disrespectful bitch—perches on the roof of Charity’s chapel like a greasy crow, orange flames welling up beneath and behind her as the blaze swallows up sacred ground like so much kindling. Charity’s heart fractures in her chest and she feels the raw sting of loss like the gore of a stag’s antlers, the snare-dogs howling all around her in abject grief, wretched, distraught—she turns and plunges back into the darkness of the treeline, vanishing from the desecrator’s sight.

She won’t let this violation be a painless one. She can feel herself changing, growing wild with fury, eyes sharpening in the gloom, buckling to her hands and knees, teeth itching. Her god wails inside her skull and she wails back in the thin, shrieking tones of the elks of birch and bone.

When the blasphemer tries to scramble for the car, that metal monstrosity in the midst of her lovely woods, Charity lunges and closes her splayed jaws around the bitch’s ankle. She screams and Charity is dizzy with the taste of her blood, fangs clamped like vices in yielding flesh, ready to jerk her head and drag the squalling prey into the dirt, ready to rend the soft flesh of its stomach into the open air with her hands and bare its steaming, soupy insides to the watchful trees, ready to chase and claw and kill and KILL—

The heel of a boot slams into Charity’s vulnerable throat with a lash of sharp pain and throws her backwards into the grass. She chokes, splutters, jaws closing and working helplessly around the taste of mud and silt, and in her moment of disorientation the car roars and accelerates into the dark, past the flaming chapel, vanishing back out onto the road.

Charity writhes in the grass, gasping for breath. The snare-dogs whine in a chorus of splitting wood, a thousand felled trees; the sonorous groan of the chapel collapsing into ashes rings in her ears in a terrible cacophony.

“My god, my god,” she moans to the open air. Beseeching. Apologizing. The agony of her god’s displeasure lances through her like a physical wound. Terror sings in her bones. “Please. Please.”

The snare-dogs have begun to snarl menacingly all around her. They have been denied something tonight, and they will have their fill.

Charity shuts her eyes. Feels the roles shifting. There’s them that lead and there’s them that chase. She has failed to chase. The Slake begs for a recasting in its time-honored performance.

Panting, sobbing breathlessly, she climbs to her feet. The snare-dogs rumble with primal excitement.

There’s them that lead, and there’s them that chase.

Charity races into the trees.

She leads.

[rosemaryandarsenic]

Some more Gareth HC’s

Tw/ mention of knives, paper cuts, blood, there’s spicy content in here (NSFW, minors DNI), car accident, stretch marks, bruising, broken bones, struggles with sexuality, AIDS, Catholicism.

- like can we discuss this man’s thighs. Because….yummy. I don’t know how I’d be able to concentrate if he was wearing shorts at any point in this show. I have this picture in my mind of Gareth being forced to wear those 70s/80s aggressively short shorts out once and like, it causing a car accident because all anyone can see is the hams on this man lmao. I just know his lap is so comfy and perfect.

- ALSO, the tummy. His little pudge drove me over the edge because it’s SO FREAKING CUTE. Like imagine how warm and comfortable this man is to cuddle with. Bonus points - he probably has stretch marks that are so pretty. He’s insecure about it but they’re just like the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, little opal lightning strikes up his torso <3 I know people tend to crap on stretch marks but I honestly think they’re so gorgeous - they’re so personal and they’re such a meaningful sign of growth and change and I just love ‘‘em so much.

- His hair. Just take a moment with me to picture in your mind how it would feel to run your hands through it. It probably smells like shampoo most days but after shows he smells like smoke and mint and sweat and his curls get all wet and cling to his face. Watching how it swings in rhythm when he’s playing the drums, waiting for him to flip it when he’s really feeling the music. Putting it into little pigtails and one of those fuzzy headbands so you can have a spa night with masks and all.

- Gareth strikes me as the kind of individual that’s always bruised or cut somewhere because he just attacks life at full speed. Screw knives, he rips open packages with his bare hands and suddenly has cardboard cuts. He falls while moving something and has a scraped knee. Gets bloody noses every summer and without fail gets a sinus cold every year on Jan 2nd. Once he broke his thumb and called you crying afterwards, he made you swear to never tell anyone.

- I need his ears to be pierced. I .NEED. HIS. EARS. TO. BE. PIERCED.

- Welcome to my Ted talk: Gareth’s necklace and Gwydions chains. Tell me what medieval sorcery is in that silver little chain just bouncing on his chest. I’m jealous of silver. I want that chain to smack me in the face while we’re in missionary. Anyways.

- HIS HANDS. Like you know when dudes have those slender but also muscular hands? Like the ones that have super nimble fingers and really good hand strength? Yeah. Also his nails look shockingly clean and I like to imagine him with one of those little nail scrubbers when he washes his hands. Adorable.

- DIMPLES.

- Films I think modern Gareth would love: treasure planet, coraline , the Batman movies (Christian bale and Robert Pattinson ones), the 1996 Romeo’ and Juliet, Paul blart: mall cop, goosebumps, American ultra, moonrise kingdom, the hunger games, what we do in the shadows, smallville, sharknado, big hero six, love Rosie, midnight in Paris, paddington, fleabag, marvel movies, into the spider verse, metal lords, peaky blinders lol.

- As much as I love sub Gareth, I feel like he’s a hardcore Dom or at the minimum a strong switch. Something about him radiates “I like telling people what to do” but in a soft way? Like irl he’s pretty chill, sets decent boundaries, likes to adventure and let loose. In bed though - 👀 he’s just a huge service top who loves putting you in your place. 99% of the time he’s just teasing you or pushing you till you can’t go anymore because it makes him feel so good to watch you melt.

- That being said he’s def a cuddles guy. Likes being babied when he’s sick, likes holding your hand all the time. Always has to be touching you somewhere or sneaking little kisses. It gets worse if you ever get pregnant because he’s a family guy so he won’t let you do anything alone “just in case”.

- I can see him being a teacher of some kind, maybe a music teacher? Like he’s gotta be excellent with kids, especially the stubborn ones. I can also see him being a History nut, so maybe a history teacher. Really smart he’s just not a huge school person and has some rough mental health days so he does okay but not top of the class.

- I just feel like he starts painting his nails in college sometimes just for the hell of it. Doesn’t stop, so he walks into work one day and his students are like, hey what’s on your nails? He’s just like, my wife is great at painting nails and she got new polish - and he just shows his hand and his nails are all glittery and green <3

- When he’s a dad he absolutely gets tattoos with the specific intent of letting his kids color them in. You’re just chilling and you see the two of them at the dining room table. Your little kiddo goes, “look! I fixed daddy’s tattoo!” And it’s just marker scribbles everywhere but Gareth shows everyone anyway.

- This is ridiculously specific but I think Gareths first kiss was actually with a boy. It was a dare in elementary school and he didn’t know how to process it. He started questioning real young and his family is a lot of things but not homophobic so he just tries to figure it out. As times change and people get more open, Gareth gets more comfortable with talking about it because he was bullied for so long. I’m general he seems like the kind of person who just doesn’t feel like labels are needed, he just likes who he likes and it happens to be everyone lol. Would absolutely go to pride with you if you asked, and constantly goes out of his way to make sure people know he’s a safe place if they ever need it.

- This is super depressing but I think about how with the time period, the gang probably will lose someone to AIDS. It’s super personal. I can see robin volunteering at the hospital to sit and talk with people, and Steve too. Will and Joyce donate quilts and Jonathan takes free portraits for couples so they have pictures together. Gareth volunteers no doubt, and will probably lose several close friends because the way the metal community and queer community are tied together. Freddie Mercury’s death def hits him really hard. I can’t emphasize enough that this is so serious, and as someone in the queer community I can only imagine how it would feel being queer in the 80s. Much love and peace to our fallen family, we remember you <3

- On a happier note, I feel like Gareth is someone who loves drag shows lmao. He would absolutely punch a Terf in the face and I stand by that.

- I think Gareth likes Nu Metal okay, I know that’s probably controversial but let me have it lmao

- He also loves thrash metal

- Modern Gareth is a parks and rec person over the office

- He loves those rainbow tootsie roll things

- Man’s fucking LOVES pirates. Like LOVES them.

- I’d bet so much money that his family is Irish catholic but he’s not practicing

- College Gareth owns a buttwiser shirt. I can picture it so clearly and I both hate it and love it.

[hongjoongscafe]

Are you still taking requests? Because I'd love to see an omegaverse one with jung hoseok as an alpha and wanting to mate and breed a wandering omega y/n

It's all about trying for pups once they've found each other destined soulmates.

No pressure at all! Just thought I'd send in a suggestion since hobi doesn't get enough love.

I hope you like it💓

Bitch hours

Pups

Pairing: hoseokxreader

Warning: omega verse au, creampie, breeding kink, doggy style.

...

Maybe going in the woods was not the worst idea. 

When Hoseok sniffed around, a sweet-smelling omega was all he could sniff. He heard the soft paddles coming towards where he was. His guts were excited. So was his dick. 

It was the time of the year when other alphas find their soulmates and mate with them. He wanted to do that this year. To say the least, he was desperate for his soulmate and pups. 

 His eyes fell on the bush that was shuffling. He squinted to see the vanilla-scented omega behind it. Then the bush was lifted and there he saw the prettiest pair of eyes ever. The round eyes were staring at him. You had pretty skin and soft hair. Her tail was swaying slowly behind her. 

He could feel how nervous you were, your heart was beating out of your body. It felt like the world around them stopped all of a sudden. They stepped forward as if their feet moved in sync and stood in front of each other. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

The omega's cheeks turned rosy. A small smile made its way over your lips and you bit it to hide it. “I-I felt an alpha near here. C-couldn’t help but come to see,” you whispered. Your ears twitched cutely over your head.

“Did you find your alpha?” your sweet scent was too arousing. His pants felt tighter. 

You chuckled. Your thighs rubbed against each other. Oh, he smelled it– he smelled the addicting scent of your pussy. “Yeah…”

“You are driving me so fucking crazy,” he growled. His eyes pierced through your soft ones.

“Alpha,” you hummed as his scent got stronger. In a blink of an eye. He picked you up and ran faster to his house. In the depth of the jungle, you saw a cute little house with a tiny little porch. The beautiful scenarios were coming into your mind already. 

The door was almost torn open. You were thrown on the best and in a beat, they both were naked. Hoseok's breath was heavy he couldn't wait to fuck his pups into you. “How the fuck could you be so fucking hot?!” he growled again, baring his canines to show the dominance that he loved dearly. 

“Alpha!” you cried. Your pussy was throbbing and begging for attention. You parted your legs, leaving any shame and shyness aside. 

He watched your fingers hovering over your leaking cunt and touching it, getting them nice and wet. It was too much to hold back. 

Hoseok hovered over you and sank his face into your neck, leaving behind wet kisses on your soft skin. His teeth marked your neck, showing others that you were now his and no one else's to mess with. 

Your mouth opened in a moan, “alpha! More.”

He growled, cock twitching between his legs. “Yes, baby. I'm your alpha. The only one who can fuck a pup in you.”

He pulled your legs even farther away and nestled closer to your soaking core. His cock brushed your core, making you whine louder and thrust your hips to feel him more. The heat in your stomach was growing bigger and bigger and wanted to get fucked.

“Please,” you begged.

“Please what, princess?” he teased.

“Please, alpha, fuck me! Fuck your little pups in me,” you held his cock and jerked him. 

He hissed, “baby gets what baby wants.”

“Ahh,” your eyes rolled back when he pushed the tip of her cock in. He was so big that you felt so full already. Your slick made it easier for him to thrust in. “So big.”

“Yeah? Can you take it all in?” he smirked seeing your scrunched-up face. His long and fat cock looked too big to fit in. 

“I can,” you hissed when he forced it in. “So big! Alpha so big,” you clenched around him making it hard for him to push in. 

“Good girl,” he grunted and snapped his hips in to fill you up fully. “Fuck, you are so tight,” he moaned.

He let you get used to his cock and waited. But he would be damned if he said he didn't want to tear your pussy apart then and there. Your tight, velvety, and hot walls were too tempting to not ruin. 

“More,” you whispered. He didn't waste time and pulled out just enough until his cock head was only left inside.

He pushed back in. His cock brushed your spot just perfectly. His girth stretched your pussy, and the burn was mouth-watering. 

Your eyes rolled back, and your toes curled. His thrusts were strong and fast. It made your whole body jolt and bed bang against the wall. “You will look so fucking pretty with my pup in your belly, no? All round and perfect.”

“Want your pups in my belly,” you moaned. The image of being pregnant with his pups was too appealing. “Wanna be full of them. Wanna be your mate.”

“Yes, baby. That's exactly what you are going to get,” he held you from your hips and flipped you onto your knees without pulling out. “Gonna fuck a pup in you.”

“Please!” This angle made his cock hit deeper. His balls were hitting your clit, stimulating it. He held your tail and pulled it up. “Oh, fuck,” you lost your balance and fell, your ass high up– getting fucked by a beast. 

Your pussy clenched around his dick harder. It was making it hard for him to thrust. He snaked his hand around and rubbed your clit faster. You felt like you were in heaven. 

Your slick, mixed with his pre cum, was dripping down your thighs. The bed sheets were soaked too. 

“I'm gonna cum!” you cried. 

“Cum for me, baby. Cum over my cock,” he slapped your clit. “Make a mess over me,” he grunted.”

Your legs were losing their balance, thighs were trembling. Your last straw was pulled when he pinched your clit and plunged harder. 

“Fuckkkk,” your back arched and you came over his cock. He felt your pussy wetting his cock even more. Whenever he pulled out, he could see the creamy mess you made over him. 

Hoseok pulled your ass cheeks to see your pussy swallowing him properly. He moaned at the mess you had made. You could feel his dick twitching inside you. “Are you ready to take my load? To get filled with my babies?”

“Mmm,” your head was blurred by the thought of a family with him. He pushed your back more into the mattress, and your tail was wrapped around his arm. 

His tail swayed harder, his fingers dug into your skin, and his thrusts got stopper. “Cum for me, alpha,” you dumbly smiled. You were eager to feel his cum filling you up to the brim. 

His high hit him immediately after hearing your sweet, and desperate voice. He came inside of you without a warning. 

His cock was spilling his hot seeds, making your cunt feel nice, warm, and full. “You take it so well, baby,” he moaned. 

He fell onto you. Hugging you closer to his chest. Your back felt warmer against his. His heartbeat was calming your nerves. 

“No wonder why you were smelling so sweet and addicting.”

.....

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph! I was wondering if you have some Johnlock song fics? It doesn't matter what kind of song heheh

thanks and remember to take care of yourself, Hug! 💖

Hey Nonny!

Ahhh, I get asked this a few times! I never have anything really significant though, LOL, at least not in the "classic song fic" sense from MY early fandom days ("song fics" used to be fics written with the lyrics to the song inspiring each section of a fic, now I think it just means "fics inspired by whole songs"). Here are the ones I know of, from my knowledge and from the above linked tag :)

EDIT: I did a tag search on my offline lists, because I should stop being so lazy, so here you are, now I have a list! :D Thank you!!

As usual, feel free to add your own, friends!

And thank you for your kind words :)

-----

SONG FICS

See Also:

Moulin Rouge AU (Mine)

Song Fics (Alexx's List)

BOOKMARKS

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, 5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – 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 Made of Music

Engaged by lifeonmars (NR, 3,146 w., 1 Ch. || Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Holmes Family, Song Fic) – Sherlock did not believe in marriage, but he wanted to be married. He found this something of a surprise. Part 2 of Damage

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Sunday Evening 6 p.m. by Silvergirl (E, 30,712 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF / TEH Divergence, Grief / Mourning / Stages of Grief, Mutual Pining, Dreams, Reunion, Love Confessions, First Kiss / Time, Alternating First Person POV, Smart John, BAMF Boys, Emotional Love Making, Song Fic, Referenced Suicide, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Sleepy Sherlock, Blow Job, Villain Mary) – Six months after Sherlock jumped, he learns that John is dedicating songs to him on a requests-only radio programme. Is John just working through grief? Or is he—communicating? Fixes the hell out of S3 by pre-empting it altogether. Remember, as TAB told us, John is Pretty Damn Smart.

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) –Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

MARKED FOR LATER

To John - love SH , how me met by Tha_shipper_Burning_void (NR, 315 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Angst, Song Fic) – John nor Sherlock knew of each other – Sherlock rich and John poor – but John believe someone was out there for him.

Satisfied by VTsuion (G, 1,067 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Canon || Watson’s Wedding, Toasting, Song Fic, Past Relationship, POV Sherlock) – Watson is getting married, but he will never be satisfied. Holmes will never be satisfied.

All Along There Was Some Invisible String (Tying You To Me) by Biana_Amberly_Vacker (G, 1,145 w., 1 Ch.. || Fantasy AU || Bullying, Holmes Family, Autistic Mycroft, Family Dynamics, Angst, Song Fic) – Mycroft is alone. He decides to make himself a brother. Out of wood.

Clarity by tea_and_violins (M, 1,606 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Angst, Reunion, Song Fic, Slash) – A one shot/song fic inspired by Clarity by Zedd ft. Foxes. Have a listen before or during :)

(They Tell You) Wake Up, Go Put On Your Makeup, This Is Just A Phase You’re Gonna Outgrow by Biana_Amberly_Vacker (T, 1,738 w., 1 Ch. || Trans Sherlock, Song Fic, Transphobia, Self-Harm, Hurt No Comfort) – Sherlock was always a boy. Even in his traitorous body. This is a story, throughout a childhood, of a boy who everyone thought was a girl.

Take me to Baker Street by MorganeUK (G, 2,087 w., 1 Ch. || Adult Ballet AU || Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Doctor John, Song Fic, Pre-Slash) – I always loved Sergei Polunin interpretation of Take me to the church so I decided to write a version where Sherlock is a ballet dancer in serious need of a doctor…

The Very Thought of You by reveling_in_mayhem (T, 2,386 w., 1 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Song Fic, Kitchen Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff) – John and Sherlock have danced before. For a case and for a wedding. But they've never danced like this. So why is John reaching out his hand for Sherlock's now?

Body Language by CeruleanDarkangelis (T, 2,706 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Dancing, Song Fic, POV First Person John, Voyeurism, Dirty Dancing, Clubbing) – There is a language to dancing; a call-and-response from one body to another. Even with the poncy kind of dancing I knew he was versed in, the kind that requires classes and counting and rules, there is communication between bodies. Watching him now, I’m more than pleased to discover that he understands my dialect as well. Part 1 of the Without Words series

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Music, Singing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Humour) – After the music halls of Sherlock's mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he'd rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

Blame it on My Youth by standbygo (M, 4,151 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement, First Kiss, Declarations of Love, Song Fic) – “Courage doesn’t mean you’re not afraid. It’s knowing that you’re afraid, and doing what you need to do anyway.” Sherlock and John are retired, but receive an unexpected client. Part 10 of the November 2014 Song Challenge series

Lights On by SosoHolmesWatson (T, 4,396 w., 1 Ch || Post-S4, First Kiss, Pining Idiots, Angst with Happy Ending, Song Fic, Love Confessions, Dev. Rel., Emotional Repression, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock and John are living together again but things between them are far from okay. John is out of his depth until a song brings the needed epiphany. Part 2 of the Made of Music

Rumbos Secretos by Ceibos (T, 5,991 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock || Argentinian Spanish, First Kiss, POV John, Internalized Homophobia, Song Fic, Military, Autism Spectrum) – AU en el que Sherlock y John son dos jovenes alumnos de la UBA en los 90´s o Sherlock ayuda a John a estudiar para su parcial de anatomía y pasan cosas.

Dirty by standbygo (E, 5,093 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, PWP, Dirty Dancing, Romance, Smut and Fluff) – “Yeah, I actually learned how to dance like that, like in the film. I was quite the hit at parties while the craze lasted. Some of Harry’s friends called me Johnny Castle, after the character. Or Swayze.” “Swayze? What kind of word is that?” John did not reply, but gazed at Sherlock, his lips pressed together but still smiling. After a moment, he stood and held out his hand to Sherlock. “Dance with me,” John said.

Take Me To Church by Daziechane (M, 6,370 w., 1 Ch. || Ballet, Song Fic, First Kiss / Time) – John’s days blurred. It didn’t even bother him anymore, that he wasn’t onstage. At least, that’s what he told himself every time he clocked in for another shift. Sherlock’s days blurred. It didn’t even bother him anymore, that he wasn’t onstage. At least, that’s what he told himself every time he stepped into 221B.

Burn by EmilyisSOgay (T, 7,481 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Jazz Singer John, Alternate First Meeting, First Kiss, Everyone is Gay, Love at First Sight, Falling in Love, Flirty John, Song Fic, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sherlock POV, Sherlock in Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fluff) – John is a seductive jazz singer at small London club. And Sherlock gets a special birthday performance that sets his Mind Palace ablaze.

You Are The Reason by ICanDoThisAllDayy (G, 9,432 w. || Post-TSo3, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Letters, Bisexual John, Song Fic, Heavy Angst) – When Sherlock leaves the envelope for John and Mary at their wedding, he forgets to take out another piece of paper from it - the paper on which he poured his heart out while preparing the Best Man's Speech at 221B Baker Street. He intended to burn the piece right after he finished writing, but he was too exhausted from the emotions and accidentally slipped it amongst his composition for the Waltz. As things work out, somebody reads his letter. That somebody is John Watson. Part 2 of Songs-inspired fic(let)s

A Very Sherlock Musical by flawedamythyst (T, 11,980 w., 1 Ch. || Musical AU || No S3 Compliant {more tags to be added after reading}) – So, you know how musicals are set in a world where people just burst into song every five minutes, and everyone around them automatically knows to join in with the tune and choreography? This fic is set in that world. John finds it extremely frustrating that Sherlock won't sing their theme song with him.

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

A Case of Identity – The Musical by shamelessmash (E, 83,147 w., 15 Ch. || 1950′s Hollywood AU || Musical, Case Fic, Undercover as an Actor, Dancing, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Writer/Director John, Slow Burn / Romance) – A mysterious death on set causes chaos in Stamford productions latest movie. With the premiere date left unchanged, they must find a new lead actor and reshoot an entire movie in two months. Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a lead actor in a Musical: a juggling act to solve a murder while singing, dancing and charming his way through 1950s Hollywood. The last thing he expected was to fall in love with the screenwriter along the way. Or as I like to call it: the case where Sherlock finally gets to dance. Based off this prompt.

To the Sticking Place by blueink3 (E, 121,973 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Musical Theatre AU || Showmance, Friends to Lovers, Bickering, UST / RST, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock, BAMF John, New York City / Broadway) – Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another? Part 1 of the Screw Your Courage series

[ohyondermemphis]

The Great War!

Oooh and maybe ‘promise me’ pretty please?

The Great War is eventually going to be part of that don't threaten me with a good time verse. Here's my favorite part so far.

Here. This morning, tomorrow morning, yesterday morning. It all starts the same.

A training session, more than likely held with Hestia, which never usually lasts longer than an hour but feels timeless and no time spent at all in equal reflections. Sometimes she lets Neville heal him immediately after, more often times, like this morning, he is to sit in his shame until dark comes over their temporary camp and he finds a salve or a potion on his threadbare pillow at night.

Before this morning, tomorrow morning, yesterday morning his nights are much the same. 

The routine of his days is oftentimes not thought of until his head hits the pillow. There is a brief thought to his lot in life, to his destiny, to his designation, to prophecies and the pebble that first cracked the glass, and how each day the shard of destruction spreads bit by bit, just one more inch than before. He is tired, this night before, like all the others, he is tired and there is a radiating ache in his joints even though he’s not graced the earth’s presence a quarter of a century.

If he puts on a salve, or is lucky enough for a potion, he likes to watch the effects it has on his body. To see the skin knit back together, to see the burn crackle away to something that looks more like human and less like spit roast, he likes to track the change, watch magic work its way in and over his body, still as desperately enamored with her wonder as he was at eleven.

He will often touch the smooth raised skin on the right side of his forehead, the lines that crackle like lightning under the earth, kissed to his brow. The sharp split between his eyebrow, the last jagged line of his creation ending underneath his eye, the iris forever marked by a curse that cut him down at just one year. It’s a heady feeling to have faced death and not remember it in any kind of minute detail, just a scream, a cry, a hiss. The feel of heat blistering his skin, the jarring sense of loss, never known. A hole he was not born with but has always felt tethered to just the same.

His fingers shake, just a little, never noticeable to anyone but him, as he trails that familiar scar. Healed to a point, closed for the time being, this wound of his. A visible reminder that he had been marked, had been intimately touched by a dark thing, a monstrous thing, a thing terrible but great.

This night before, like all the others, he finally closes his eyes. It soothes the migraine that lies like a faithful dog at the hearth in his head, a familiar companion, like the friends in his cupboard that had always appeared after the door had been sealed shut, brought upon by hunger and ache and some kind of quiet misery. He slips into the darkness, like the moon cuts into the choppy waters of the wine dark sea at night, a flash of light that jerks him back, always the same the first moment peace settles its easy weight on him.

It never lasts for long, this weightlessness, this lull of an easy shoreline, the cottage with a popping fire, the closed door. Always a door, always oak, a strong wood, an alphan wood that is made mighty, tall and without age, no withered cracks in the frame, solid enough that the wind never howls loud enough to be heard from inside.

The door. This night before, and the night before that and the night before that. The door. The scratching that follows, and the warmth from the fire sizzles and pops, all of it slowing, sticky molasses of time crawling to a stop in his dreamscape. The door.

The scratching.

Let me in, little ‘mega. Little ‘mega, let me in, let me in.

The rosy watercolor of his dream drips down, the cottage that isn’t and the drips of water that run down the ceiling, the bookshelves, the hiss of a fire doused in the steady stream of water so dark it could be black, gray lines of ash that kill the color in segments. This night before, his dream self, with his own hands, freckled and calloused, are clenched tight in panic. The dark water laps at his ankles, freezing cold, turning choppy like his house is the sea, and the sea is a storm.

No noise, no rush of water, no drip drip drip of a rainstorm willed to wash him away.

Just the scratching from the shadow outside.

Let me in, let me in.

Now, Promise Me is ... something, I'm trying to be a little tighter with pace and a little more in line with dialogue because I struggle so fruitlessly with it. I think I've already posted this but it's basically all I got - we are going somewhere with Harry in white wielding a knife at some point, trust me.

“He’s but a boy.” Tom arches a brow, arms folded and already bored with the older men’s theatrics. The clash of swords outside, that beautiful melody of steel against steel, reaches longingly into his ears. How long has it been since he pressed blade to blade with Barty, with Bella? How long since he had felt more human than monster? 

The answers aren’t in Dumbledore’s bright blues. Nor are they in the basin, with its blood and gore, where two wide emeralds fade into the bones that rattle in its depths. 

“A boy.” He turns to Gellert, his mentor, one hand holding his cheek and long legs crossed. His smile is all sharp teeth. He knows Tom will say yes, his pet seer isn’t needed for that, at least. 

“Yes, a boy, Tom. Invaluable. Held by bonds that are forged without his consent. Held by the Gryphdaans.” Tom’s red eyes flicker to Albus, who seems to have eyes only for what images that he can still glean from the boy in the basin. His people. 

Tom’s suspicion rises like a snake ready to strike. 

Dumbledore finally raises his head, a thousand sorrows unseen as he looks at Tom, through him, hands twitching in the air, and Tom looks to Gellert, all smugness dropped. 

“My people hold this boy, this prophecy child, this uniter, they hold him in righteousness, and will not see beyond their own eyes. He will be their downfall.” Albus sinks into the chair next to Gellert, lost in his vision. 

“Bring him to us, Thomas.” Gellert caresses Albus’ unbound hair, like rubies in the sun, like blood dripping on the white tunic that covers him, their eyes only on each other. 

Tom is already turning to leave. 

For better or for worse, on just whose downfall, will be determined.

Thank you so much for the ask!

[a-strange-inkling]

First off, I love Old Haunts and am both sad that it is ending soon and excited for the next installment(s) in the verse! I was curious about something (if you are able to answer), have you thought about any of the future families of the characters outside of the Munsons and the Harringtons? I know that Max and Lucas are expecting during Old Haunts; are there any Jancy/Mileven/Duzie/Rockie babies in the future? And will poor Gwen ever get her daughter or is she the mom of a Boy Brood?

Thank you so much!! 🥹🥹🥹

Yes, I think so! I think all of them will have a little nugget or little nuggets of their own at some point. Still just ideas now, not solid canon lol but I totally see it.

Jonathan and Nancy may take more time as they’re presently abroad and working for a major magazine, but I see them having a little boy someday and then maybe a little girl a few years down the line because Jonathan would like their son to have a sibling. They do wait till later in life, Nancy wants a family eventually but wants to make her mark on the world first. And Jonathan also needs some time to grow on his own and not be a parent. He’s been parenting Will since his dad walked out.

Mike and El will have a little girl in a few years after Mike’s second book is published and they will just adore her to pieces. El is quite taken with Livvy and spending time with her over the years makes her realize that she’s ready to have one of her own someday. They name their daughter Theresa Joyce after El’s mothers. They call her Tessie 😭 Livvy adores her and holds her for hours.

Dustin and Suzie have three kids during their later twenties. Peregrine Edward (Perry) Rosalind Christina (Rosie) and Arthur Stephen (Artie). They are all geniuses and they all know it.

Robin and Vickie will adopt a sibling group, two little boys, two and six years old. I’m still thinking of names for them, but they love spending time in their moms’ coffee shop, they build little forts out of the table and chairs and read books from the kid’s shelf. 🥹

And Steve still wants a six pack, so it’s safe to say that a little girl might be in Gwen’s near future! 💖

[floofgryph]

Sixth OC for the Liam & Co Universe

Name: Achashwerosh

Species: Human

Birthday: December 14th

Age: Between 26 and 34 (he doesn’t bother to specify)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Lóegaire’s henchman, thief, bindery worker for The Cockcrow Gazette

Abilities: N/A

Personality: Achashwerosh isn’t afraid to backstab people in order to satisfy his needs or the commands of his boss. As a sly individual, he’ll often use lies to manipulate others and to ensure that his daily tasks are professionally dealt with. However, he does occasionally struggle to keep Lóegaire’s criminal empire and his duties a secret due to his mostly honest and talkative nature. He has a fondness for talking, which can get him in trouble or end up annoying those he’s conserving with. He tries his best to impress both men and women alike, but often fails because of his recklessness and inexperience. Achashwerosh sometimes forgets to make a mental note of any potential consequences that might arise from his actions. He’s often kind and friendly when interacting with people who treat him respectfully or those who have a genuine heart of gold. He has a dark sense of humour and can be quite greedy when it comes to money, food, and weapons. There are instances where he’s willing to share with friends, family, and those he takes pity on when he sees necessary. He often makes goofy movements and faces when facing more serious situations in order to lighten the mood and keep his spirits up. Achashwerosh is fairly observant, but he can be easily distracted by those who sexually grab his attention or unfamiliar items. He often moves about constantly, shows extreme restlessness, and struggles to fully concentrate on certain situations and people. He’s not the most intelligent amongst The Cockcrow Gazette, but he’s quite street-smart and is well-versed in literature.

Likes: Singing, the sounds of the banjolele, books that contain numerous fairy tales and myths, watching meteor showers, and treasure hunting.

Dislikes: Awkward silence, wasting perfectly good food and weapons, apocalyptic literature, ghost towns, and being told to shut up.

Physical and outfit appearance: His approximate height is 5’ 9” (175.26 cm) and he has a lanky, ectomorphic body type with partially broad shoulders. He has very clean, wavy hair that’s a caramel brown with sideburns and chin stubble, and he has rosy beige skin. He also has the upper right corner of his lip chipped and a missing right canine and left central incisor. His eyes are a sunburst green-hazel, and he has pinkish stretch marks on his upper arms and belly.

He wears a pickled bluewood business suit jacket with a blue-eyed orange tiger that has purplish draconic wings and is emerging from a pink rose bush on the back. Underneath the suit is a pixie green button-down shirt with a velvety seance necktie that has diagonal fountain blue, confetti yellow, carissma pink, and de york. He wears olivine-to-fruit salad knickerbockers with vertical bronze stripes and a pair of glossy rust red boat shoes. For jewellery, he wears a black pearl multi-strand necklace, a pair of gold hoop earrings, and a red beryl solitaire ring on his left middle finger.

Equipment: A pack of cigars, a double barrel sawed-off shotgun, a pair of orange-tinted sunglasses, a pocket-sized maneki-neko keychain, and an azure banjolele.

Family:

An unnamed maternal grandmother

Biography: He was born into a struggling middle-class family from Crystal Bay on December 14th, but would later be raised by his maternal grandmother after his parents died in a house fire. Achashwerosh was kind of difficult to handle due to his recklessness and hyperactivity, but he respected his grandmother and tried his best to be a better person. By 19, his grandmother passed away from a respiratory disease. Unsure of what to do with his life, he became a thief in order to sustain himself. He eventually met Lóegaire when he turned 24 after he tried to pickpocket him and was convinced to join his cause due to his extraordinary thieving skills. He was also promised work and a stable income, and he was appointed as bindery worker for The Cockcrow Gazette. Achashwerosh and two other people would become his most trusted henchmen due to their dutiful dedication and sense of professionalism.

@ask-liam-and-co