#mark deck fanfic

[scaryfangirl2001]

Ride Out This Storm (fanfic, 365 WC)

@flufftober

As the storm rages outside, Click and OT sit comfortably on the porch swing, the creaking wooden slats a soothing accompaniment to their conversation. The darkness is almost palpable, punctuated by lightning flashes illuminating the sky. OT's arm around Click's shoulders is warm and comforting, and Click feels ease wash over him as he leans into the younger man's side. As lightning flashes, OT's grip on Click's shoulder tightens slightly, a reflexive gesture Click has grown accustomed.

"Everything's okay, Topiccy Wopiccy," Click says softly, voice gently reassuring, calming OT's nerves.

OT exhales slowly, releasing tension as he relaxes back into the swing. "Sorry about that," he whispers. "I get jumpy during storms."

Click smiles, eyes crinkling. "It's okay, I'm here," he says in a low and soothing tone. "We can ride out this storm together."

They sit, watching sheet lightning dance across the sky, OT fidgeting with his sunglasses, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the frames. Click notices, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, Cliccy?" OT says, voice hesitant. "Are you upset I'm still wearing sunglasses?"

Click chuckles, eyes glinting with amusement. "No, I'm not upset," he voices. "I know you have light sensitivity issues, Topiccy. You don't need to explain."

OT nods, fingers still fidgeting. But as the storm moves away, leaving peaceful stillness, he relaxes, grip on sunglasses easing. In an almost imperceptible movement, he removes them, revealing a myriad of eye colors shimmering and glowing in dim light. Amber, blue, brown, gray, green, hazel, and red — rainbow colors and more seem present in OT's eyes, a dazzling display leaving Click breathless. He stares, transfixed, as OT's eyes sparkle and shine in the darkness.

"Wow," Click breathes, voice barely audible. "I had no idea..."

OT smiles, eyes glinting with amusement. "I guess I've been hiding a secret, Cliccy."

Click's eyes never leave OT's face, gaze drinking in the younger man's eyes' beauty. "I'm glad I got to see," he says, voice full of wonder.

As they sit, the only sound of the creaking porch swing and distant thunder, Click feels a connection to OT he's never felt before. It's as if the storm washed away defenses, leaving them vulnerable and open to each other.

[junkissed]

ocean view

member — junhui x f reader genre — romance, smut, strangers to lovers, soulmate au word count — 8.8k synopsis — an all expenses paid trip to greece for your friend's wedding seems too good to be true, but it gets even better when you meet a handsome stranger on the beach. with the help of a mysterious old lady, her magic deck of tarot cards, and one too many coincidences, you're starting to believe things really do happen for a reason. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, unprotected sex, fingering, marking, an oddly romantic one night stand, mentions of past hookups, reader wears dresses, way too much yearning, happy ending ! notes — my part for the @svthub world tour collab; check out the masterlist here! thanks to @multi-kpop-fanfics for answering all my questions and the biggest thanks ever to @onlymingyus for proofreading & helping me brainstorm throughout !! inspired mostly by the spell mv but also a little bit from nana tour and in the soop bc of the vacation vibes. disclaimer i know nothing about tarot but i did a ton of research so i hope that part makes sense anyway :) this fic was a huge challenge to write so please please reblog if you enjoyed reading, the feedback is super appreciated and it helps me keep writing!! read bonus material here!

they say time flies when you’re having fun.

it felt like just days ago when your best friend had announced she was flying everyone to athens for her destination wedding. between helping prepare for the wedding and getting yourself packed for the trip of a lifetime, a weekend on the beach sounded like exactly what you needed to unwind.

but now that you’re here, you’ve quickly realized that your dreams of lazy spa days, massages, and lounging on chairs in the sand with cocktails aren’t on your friend’s itinerary.

what is on her itinerary, however? clubs. lots of clubs, and bars, and raves.

the night before the wedding, you’d showed up at the place you had all planned to meet at for her bachelorette party, a popular bar right on the beach in the center of everything. you hadn’t been sure what to expect, so you’d worn your swimsuit underneath your sundress just in case. between wedding plans and jet lag, you hadn’t yet had the chance to explore the beaches, and you weren’t about to let your favorite white strappy one-piece go to waste without wearing it the whole trip; especially not when you’re surrounded by gorgeous clear waters you don’t get to see while you’re at home.

you tug at your dress a little awkwardly, a simple off-white piece with buttons all down the front. cute and casual, the perfect thing for an evening on the beach. except an evening on the beach is not what you’re getting.

“next round is on me!”

all the girls let out a cheer, clapping and whooping as they raise their glasses. you’re still not even halfway through your first drink; the night is young, but your friends are more enthusiastic partygoers than you are.

you lean away to check the time on your phone, trying not to feel defeated when you see how early it still is. you’ve been trying to hype yourself up for tonight all weekend, but it doesn’t help that your friends are bigger partiers than you. that isn’t to say that you dislike parties, or that you never go out; but parties like this, huge events with hundreds of people packed into a small space with loud music and flashing lights, aren’t really your ideal way to spend a saturday night. even for such a special, rare occasion like a bachelorette party in another country, you can’t bring yourself to get lost in the scene. you should’ve known how this would go, and yet here you are, standing at a cocktail table by yourself surrounded by drunk women.

you turn back around and suddenly the bar is a sea of unfamiliar faces, everyone around you lost in their own worlds jumping and dancing to the music that booms from the speakers. you stand up on your tiptoes to see above the crowd, trying to push your way through in search of someone you recognize, but it seems like they’ve all vanished.

the pounding of the music is starting to give you a headache, so you down the last of your drink and head away from the bar, pushing past people until the crowd eventually starts to thin and you break out into the open air.

it’s still light outside, but the contrast from the darkened bar makes it feel like stepping into another world. the noise gets quieter the farther away you move, and you find your feet carrying themselves down the beach. you walk backwards, turning to look over your shoulder one more time to see if you can spot your friends, but all you see is a crowd full of strangers.

it’s easier to breathe out here, feeling the freshness of the ocean breeze and the salty air in your lungs as you get further and further from the people and the businesses. you turn around again and almost run straight into a man walking from the opposite direction, and you stumble into his arms before you realize what’s happening. you let out a little squeak in surprise and jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet but his hand instinctively shoots around your waist to help keep you upright.

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, an apology already ready on your lips, but he beats you to it. “sorry,” he says with a shy laugh, slowly letting go of you and offering his hand for balance as you slip your sandal back on that had come off. he steps back and gives you a polite smile, trying to move out of your way. “you look like you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“the opposite, actually. escaping my friend's bachelorette party," you explain. 

"we're in the same boat, then," he chuckles, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "trying to ditch the bachelor party. it’s a popular place for weddings, huh?”

“seems like it.” you hum, turning to look out over the water. the setting sun glints off the surface, a clear and bright sparkling blue, and you lift your hand to keep the glare out of your eyes. “i just didn’t think it’d be so…”

“…hectic?” he asks, and you laugh a little.

"yeah, you could say that.” a warm breeze ruffles through your sundress, and you cross your arms over your chest. “i guess all weddings are like that, though.”

he nods, following your gaze off into the horizon. you go quiet, listening to the music still loud in the distance and the sound of seagulls cawing above your heads. "i was hoping to get a chance to explore more of the beaches while i'm here. i don’t get to see it often."

"wanna go for a walk?” you ask suddenly, uncrossing your arms. maybe it’s the fresh air of a new place, maybe it’s the comfort of finding another person wanting to get away from it all, but some part of you wants to stay here and find out. you’d wanted to see more of the landscape anyway, and now seems like as good a time as any, especially now that you’ve got company.

he looks over at you, judging your expression before his face softens. “that sounds perfect.”

it’s still early enough that the beach is still mostly full of tourists, adults lounging on towels while reading books and kids splashing water at each other and playing in the sand. you walk further down the beach, passing in front of a grey haired old woman sitting cross-legged on a towel, shuffling a deck of cards in her wrinkled hands.

"always lovely to see couples enjoying the islands,” she calls out to you. there’s an almost rhythmic lilt to her voice, and it’s so sudden that it makes both of you pause and turn around, having paid her no mind as you walked past before. she gestures down at the deck and you finally notice that she’s holding a set of tarot cards, a deep matte black that seems to glitter and sparkle even while shadowed. “would you like a reading?”

your cheeks start to warm, and you push down the butterflies that flutter to life when she assumes you’re together. "oh, no, we're not—”

"sure," jun says over you, and you sneak a glance up at him when you think he's not looking. "how much?"

she clucks her teeth and shakes her head, staring directly at you although she’s answering his question. "no, no, no, my dear. just offering a bit of friendly advice. won’t cost you a thing."

jun nods, but she seems like she’s waiting for your answer so you quickly nod, too. “okay. what… do we have to do?”

she places her palms over the deck and closes her eyes, falling silent. you stand in front of her, feeling a little awkward to be hovering over her like this, but she it’s like she doesn’t even notice. you share a look with jun, but after a beat he grabs your hand and grins as if to say, just go along with it.

her eyes suddenly fly open and she seems pleased with whatever she was doing. “i knew i could feel it,” she says cryptically as she begins shuffling the cards. “but let’s just see what fate has to say about it.”

she stops and pulls the top two cards from the deck, placing them face down on the towel as she motions at them with her hand. at her signal, jun bends forward and turns over one of the cards, reading it aloud. “ace of cups.”

“ace of cups,” she repeats. “an invitation. the open, uninhibited flow of emotions, creativity, and love; the awakening of your spirit. this is a new beginning for you, the start of a new season. trust yourself and your feelings, and embrace the opportunity to grow with your emotions.”

jun nods seriously like he’s taking in her words, but you can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips that he’s trying to suppress.

she looks at you expectantly, and you hesitate before realizing she’s waiting for you to flip over the second card. you cheeks heat as you read it, but you try not to let it show. “the… lovers?”

she smiles, and although her face looks kind you have a sense that there’s something she’s not telling. “the lovers,” she says, almost solemnly. “many people think this card is strictly about romance. and in some ways it is, but what it really represents is a choice. two diverging paths, two responsibilities. will you choose with your head, or with your heart?”

she stares at you for another moment, then looks back at jun. you both stay quiet and still, subconsciously hanging on her every word as she pauses, clearly having more to say. “having these two cards come up together… now, that’s fascinating for you two, isn’t it?”

you find yourself nodding silently, although you have no idea why. you feel jun’s hand in yours, warm and soft and grounding, and the smallest shiver runs down your spine.

“the lovers and the ace of cups are the potential for new beginnings and the fulfillment that comes with following your heart,” she says, her eyes locked with yours. “this is a very powerful and meaningful connection, but only if you make the choice that is most heartfelt. you must be willing to be your most authentic self and hold nothing back. keep your eyes open, and you will be rewarded with profound joy and happiness.”

immediately you turn to look at jun to see his reaction. he looks just as confused—but is that a hint of excitement in his eyes?—as you do. the woman’s words are… cryptic, to say the least, but it stirs up a feeling of excitement in the back of your mind that you’re trying to ignore. it probably doesn’t mean what you think it does, right?

"hey, wait, so what does—”

you turn back to look at the woman for another explanation, but there's no one there. the beach is empty except for you and jun and the slowly setting sun, a few boats tied up at the dock. you’ve walked so far down the beach that even the distant music has faded into obscurity and you’re left standing alone together, surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the waves. even the wind has died down, and it feels eerily quiet but in an almost comforting sort of way, to be alone together in a place like this.

"you believe in that kind of stuff?" you ask curiously as jun starts to walk away.

"mm… not really. but she seemed like a lonely old lady. i thought it'd make her day." he looks down at your entwined hands and squeezes lightly, almost teasing as you look up and see the grin on his face. "why, do you?"

you can't help the butterflies that instantly flutter to life in your stomach when you feel his warm hand in yours, but you shrug. "why not?"

jun doesn't reply, just nodding thoughtfully as you continue to walk hand in hand. 

with the way the atmosphere has suddenly changed, it feels like time has stopped as you meander your way along the edge of the water. you chat off and on with jun, but there’s a hefty amount of silence that neither one of you feels obligated to fill. talking to jun feels like talking to an old friend, and maybe it’s the beautiful scenery or maybe it’s the way both of you had found yourselves here looking for company.

after a while you come to a stop just below the rocks where you’d started. your footprints from where you’d run into each other are still visible, little indents in the damp sand, and it reminds you of what you were running away from in the first place. maybe you don’t want to run anymore. 

"well…”  jun says, inhaling slowly. "we should get you back to your friends. i'm sure they're looking for you."

"would it be so bad if i said i didn't want to find them?"

he pauses to gauge your reaction, and you don’t miss the flicker in his eyes as he looks at you. after a moment nods and points up the shallow cliffs, towards a little stone staircase worn down from years of being travelled on. "my hotel is just up there. if… if you wanted to stay a little longer? with me?"

you pull your lip between your teeth, looking up at him and the way the fading sunlight shines through his soft brown waves, and it only takes a second to make your decision. “i’d really like that.” 

it turns out that missing out on your friend’s party for a few more hours is an easy price to pay for more time with jun.

the door of his hotel room barely has time to shut before your hands are on each other. you tug him closer by shirt with an eagerness you rarely allow yourself and he immediately reciprocates, pulling you by the waist until you’re pressed chest to chest.

his hand skims over your collarbone towards your neck, and you shiver at the warmth of his fingers caressing the side of your jaw. he angles your chin upwards and leans in as you meet him halfway and your lips finally touch, a low sound escaping from your throat as his nose brushes your cheek.

he makes a soft noise as he inhales, deepening the kiss until you feel your knees go weak. his hand cups your jaw harder, trying to draw you further into him, unwilling to break apart. he kisses you so softly yet you can still feel the intensity behind every movement of his lips, exploring your mouth with a gentleness that feels more natural than anyone you’ve ever kissed before.

jun curls his arm around you tighter, and you’re sure he can hear how fast your heart is beating as he kisses you again and again until you’re breathless. you slide your hands away from his chest and start to undo the buttons at the front of your dress, but he stops you. you look up and meet his gaze as his hand on your cheek moves to wrap around your waist, carefully walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back onto it.

he lets out a quiet groan as you pull him down with you, landing on top of you and catching himself on his forearms beside your head. his face is inches away from yours, staring into your eyes for a beat before he presses down to capture your lips again.

his kisses feel like magic, and you almost forget exactly what you’re here to do. you’d be content to spend hours with his lips on yours and nothing else, but you’re quickly pulled away from it when he sits back and starts to slide his hands down your body, his nimble fingers skillfully undoing the buttons of your dress one by one.

he pulls the fabric away and lets it fall to the floor before leaning to kiss you again, and a grateful sigh slips from your lips at his touch. your fingers tug at his shirt and he breaks away once more to quickly pull it off over his head, tossing it behind him without a second thought.

your hands slide earnestly across his body, your fingertips trailing down his torso and the deep lines of his abs. his fingers brush over your swimsuit in tandem, tracing the cutouts of the fabric where your skin is visible and making you prickle with goosebumps at his touch.

he seems equally as content to just continue doing this, but eventually his hands make their way upwards and gently slip the straps off your shoulders. he doesn't move any further than that, waiting for you to move instead, his fingers resting at the base of your neck just beneath your chin. 

you follow his actions and shimmy the suit down, letting it bunch up at your hips. only then does he finally break apart from you, moving his mouth down to your exposed breast and letting his tongue glide over your peaked nipple. your skin tastes like salt and sweat, like sunny days and warm breezy nights, and he can't get enough of you.

the first moan you let out is like music to his ears, and immediately he craves more of them. he wraps his mouth around your other nipple while keeping his hands attached to your body like magnets, desperate to be the one to draw more of those pretty noises from your lips.

you lift your hips just a little and he quickly gets the hint, wordlessly pushing his fingers between your skin and the fabric of your swimsuit before tugging it all the way off. he pulls it down your legs and you help him kick it away, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

your hands slide across his shoulders and up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair with another moan that sends a shiver down his spine. you can’t help but roll your hips upwards against his body, squirming for more friction as your nails scratch at his scalp.

his face stays buried in your chest for a long time, moving between your breasts and planting wet kisses all along your skin. your head is spinning at the sight of this gorgeous man working his magic on your body, his hands wandering up and down with a tender purpose. you don't even know his name but you already know you're gonna be thinking about this night for months, probably even years. you're shocked at how good he is at this; there's a melancholy feeling looming in the back of your mind, knowing that this is probably the first and only night you’ll get to spend with him, but you don't have time to focus on that when you have the tingly feeling in your stomach to focus on instead.

despite not saying anything aloud you can tell exactly what he wants from you, and something about how easy this is sends a feeling of relief through you. all of the mistakes of your past hookups feel like a distant memory. there’s none of the empty conversations meant to do nothing more than fill the silence and the awkward, tentative movements that you’ve become accustomed to from strangers who aren’t familiar with your body. 

but something about the way jun touches you does feel familiar, like you’ve been waiting all your life for it, for him. his silence, something that most of your partners in the past had fought so hard to avoid, now only leaves more room for you to enjoy the sounds that often go overlooked: the wet hum as his lips connect with your skin, the distant crash of waves outside the window, the quiet whir of the ceiling fan.

jun leans down and kisses you again, shifting on top of you as his hand wanders down your hips. you pull him closer and let your hand travel a similar path, and you bite your lip in excitement when your fingers skim over the bulge straining against his shorts.

he lets out a strangled noise almost like a whimper at the contact but the sound only encourages you to add more pressure, soaking in his reactions. he whines again, pushing his hips into your hand and exhaling a shaky breath as you continue to palm him, feeling the hard outline of his cock as he struggles to keep his composure.

his knee is against your thigh and he repositions himself to press it higher between your legs, returning the favor and giving you something to grind on. instinctively your legs widen a little to give him easier access, and he rewards you with another hot, messy kiss.

you groan at the feeling, pushing your hips down towards him and rubbing yourself on him. it’s a little rough at first, but you’re already so wet that it doesn’t take long before his knee is coated in your arousal and you slide along him easily. 

after a minute he pulls back just an inch, giving you room to breathe, but one hand is still on your hip and the other curled behind you to support your neck. “good?” he asks breathlessly, and even though it’s clear as day that you’re enjoying this as much as he is, you still nod and give him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a smile of his own. “just let me know,” he says, and the sultry yet sweet tone of his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

at your approval his hand begins to wander again, trailing over the top of your thigh. his finger slowly make their way down and you shiver, your hand stilled against his abdomen as you anticipate his next move.

you take this moment to get a good look at him; you’d been too shy to stare earlier on the beach, unsure how things were going to go. but now that he’s on top of you, shirtless and obviously just as eager as you are, you let your gaze roam unabashedly across his body. your eyes glide over his torso, the hollow slope of his collarbones and his hardened nipples, the deep-set grooves of his abs and the faint lines of his ribs beneath his skin. you want to reach out to touch him and run your hands over every inch of him, but you’re trying to be patient. and although you know your time here is limited, it seems like jun is only just getting started.

his fingers finally make it to your inner thighs, tracing the area around your pussy, but it’s still not close enough for your liking. you wiggle a little to try and encourage him, whining softly and letting out a little plea. his lips quirk up and he nods, his grip on the back of your neck tensing and tangling in your hair. 

his fingers finally brush against your entrance and you gasp, writhing at how gentle his touch is. he dips his middle finger into your heat before pulling it back out, trailing upwards to your clit to circle it for a moment before heading back down and repeating the process. it’s barely enough, yet it leaves you breathless almost instantly.

he’s staring down between your legs with an intense focus, spreading your arousal around before sinking back into you for more. and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pushes his finger in deeper, holding it still for a second even though you’ve already adjusted to it. he waits until you start moving, arching your back and trying to get him to go further, before he adds his ring finger and begins slowly thrusting both fingers in and out together.

you whimper and curse under your breath, trying to roll your hips to match his rhythm. he starts to curl his knuckles and you swear you see stars, despite the fact that he’s barely moving at all.

after a moment when you’ve regained the ability to breathe normally again you start to move your hand back against his bulge, shaky fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. you wrap your hand around him and your eyes widen at the thickness, the heavy weight of him in your hand and how you’re sure he must be aching by now. you feel the way his cock jerks when you squeeze ever so slightly, his fingers inside you freezing for a split second as his brain tries to process before he plunges them in even deeper, curling into you with even more fervor than before.

you hold him tighter and run your thumb over his tip, swollen and leaking with precum. he gets a little noisier with every move you make, unable to contain the pleasure he gets even from this. even the smallest touches from each other have both of you on edge in a way you’ve never felt before, drawn to each other like no one you’ve ever had before.

his clothes in the way are starting to frustrate you, so after another second you release his cock and move your hand up to the waistband of his shorts instead, trying to tug them down but it’s difficult from the position you’re both laying in.

“please,” you pant out desperately after having little success, and he obliges, pushing his shorts away as fast as possible before resuming his motions. he’s still almost completely ignoring himself as he continues to focus on you and only you, and his complete devotion gives you another boost of confidence.

now freed, his hard cock slaps against your thigh and you moan happily at finally being able to see all of him. it looks even better than it felt, thick veins bulging out across his length and his tip flushed a deep red. you wrap your hand around him once more, flicking your wrist as you start to jerk up and down.

his fingers curl upwards to massage the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and if you had any functioning thoughts left you would’ve marvelled at the fact that he was able to find it so easily, but you’re too busy arching your back against his pillow to think about that.

he can feel you starting to clench harder around him, making his fingers stutter inside you, so he pushes his other hand down on your hip to stop you from moving so much. he pulls his fingers out and your eyes dart back up to his face for an explanation, unable to stop the whimper that escapes from you at the loss, but the look in his eyes instantly puts you at ease. you can already tell he knows what he’s doing, and somehow he seems to know exactly what you need, so for once you don’t mind sitting back and letting someone else call the shots.

“can i fuck you now?” he murmurs, and it takes you a second to even hear what he said because you’re shocked at how low and rough his tone is since the last time you heard him speak. he wipes his fingers against the inside of your thigh as he waits for your reply, and you shiver at the cool wetness on your skin.

the best you can manage is a stuttered “yes”, and without a word of acknowledgement he pulls you off the bed, guiding you off your back and onto your hands and knees.

you let out a squeak at the sudden change but you let it happen, and a second later you hear his voice beside you, his breath warm against your ear. “still okay?” he asks, and despite the gruffness in his voice you can still hear the soft edge to his words.

“yeah,” you repeat, suddenly losing the ability to say anything else to express your pleasure, but somehow you know he understands. your stomach flutters at the low tone of his voice, steady and calm but so full of warmth and lust.

you feel the heat from his face move away from your skin, and you know he’s sitting up on his knees behind you. his hands slide down your sides, reaching under you to cup your boobs with both hands as he groans at the feeling. you let out a matching whine, pushing your hips back against him to feel his hard length against the soft flesh of your ass.

his hands still holding your breasts, he leans down over you to keep you flush to his body, your back pressed against his chest. he presses a kiss in between your shoulder blades, letting his tongue trace lightly over the ridges of your spine.

you grind backwards against him harder, your body on fire from his kisses as he starts to suck gently at the back of your shoulder. you’re not sure if it’s hard enough to leave marks, but you kind of hope they do, because then you’d be sure this encounter wasn’t a dream. what other explanation is there for the fact that you’ve not only met the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but that you’re currently on your hands and knees in his bed as he runs his lips over every single inch of you, waiting for him to fuck you? it’s too good to be true.

but it is true, and you know it when he pulls away to brush your hair to the side and expose more of your back for him. his fingers are still so gentle against your skin, his touch heavy but soft, and it makes you even more desperate for him.

after a while he lets go of you and leans back, taking his cock in his hand and gently tapping it against your ass. you groan and fall forward, pressing your face into the pillows and arching your hips up into the air. his hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist with a low groan as he leans forward to kiss the side of your neck again.

he finally pushes all the way into you, and it feels so good it takes your breath away for a second. you can feel your walls throbbing around him, struggling to adjust to the feeling of being so full in the best way, a way you haven’t felt this strongly in so long. it’s a feeling like no other, and it makes you wonder why you ever settled for anything else before this.

his hands are all over you like he can’t decide what to do first, but after a while they settle at your hips and give them an encouraging squeeze, waiting patiently for you to set the pace. finally you bring yourself to move, tipping forward to let him slide out of you just a bit before you lean back into him.

he adapts quickly to your rhythm, thrusting in and out and matching your pace, using his grip on your waist for leverage to push himself deep inside with every stroke.

“fuck,” he moans under his breath, finally breaking the silence, and with just that one sound you feel yourself starting to let go.

the words tumble out of your mouth and you ball your fists into his sheets, clinging to the bed to keep you grounded while your head is spinning. “please, please, yes—”

everything finally hits you all at once, like a tidal wave pouring over you as you fall forward and bury your face into the pillow with a broken whimper.

“don’t stop, please,” you whine breathlessly. your words are muffled by the pillow, but you can tell he’s heard them because his grip on your hips tightens even more, slamming into you with just as much force as before and carrying you through your orgasm.

jun has to bite his lip not to sail right over the edge with you, focusing all his energy on holding himself back until he feels your body go limp all at once, the waves finally subsiding and you let out a deep, pleasured exhale. he’s so close he can practically taste it, his skin flushed and damp with sweat and his abs burning with exertion. only once he’s absolutely sure that you’ve finished cumming does he let himself break, pulling out as fast as he can and wrapping his fist around his length with all the energy he has left.

he moans weakly at the loss of your tight, warm walls hugging him so perfectly, but the view as he jerks himself over you all but makes up for it. the sight of your ass pressed flush against his thighs, your lower back arched and on display like a gorgeous blank canvas, and it gives him such a rush until he can’t hold on anymore.

the warm, sticky liquid hits your back and you whimper into the pillow, instinctively lifting your hips even more towards him. his cum spurts out in thick ropes, painting your skin and pooling in the little divot at the base of your spine, running down your ass until it feels like you’re soaked in it.

he finally pulls back and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in, groaning as he sees you sitting still on the bed with your hips in the air. you feel the bed shift with his weight as he gets up, but you don’t pay any attention to it as you focus on trying to steady your breathing instead. something in your gut tells you to stay put, and sure enough, a minute later you hear the sink running and then feel the cool fabric of a damp washcloth brushing over your back.

he lays his hand on your ass and gently gives it a little squeeze to signal that he’s finished, and you finally fall over onto your side. you’re coasting on cloud nine, and everything feels both dulled and hypersensitive at the same time. the whir of the overhead fan is a little more prominent now, and the quiet drone echoes around in your brain.

“do you need water? or do you want a snack, or something?” jun asks, and while his voice still has a touch of shakiness as he’s recovering himself, you can tell his tone is back to the gentle and polite sound you’ve become used to hearing from him.

you shake your head, and he hums softly in acknowledgement as he points to the nightstand on the side of the bed closest to you. “there’s an extra water bottle there, if you need it. i haven’t opened it.”

you nod against the sheets, suddenly too tired to even think about forming words. jun climbs back onto the bed next to you, stretching out his long limbs and leaning against the headboard with a satisfied sigh. 

you surprise yourself when your body automatically reaches out for him, curling into his body and laying your hand across his forearm like a weight keeping him close. but what surprises you even more is when he mirrors the action, scooting closer to you and letting your head rest against his stomach. your first thought is that he makes a very comfortable pillow, and you let your eyes fall shut for a moment as your breathing returns to normal, wanting to savor this moment as you collect yourself and prepare to leave.

you open your eyes what feels like minutes later, but when you reach over to check your phone you realize you’ve been asleep for more than an hour. you inhale slowly and swallow, blinking a few times as the sore feeling in your hips reminds you of where you are.

instinctively, you start to panic a little. your friends are probably looking for you. you disappeared without telling anyone, and now you have to get back to your hotel and make sure you have enough time to sleep properly and get ready for the wedding in the morning. never mind that it was probably the best night you’ve ever spent with another person, and never mind that your friends are probably still out partying and haven’t even noticed you missing yet.

you slide off of the bed as quietly as you can, stumbling a little when your feet hit the floor. you crouch down to pick up your swimsuit off the floor and put it on, hopping on one foot as you slip each leg through the holes. it's darker outside now, but the street lamps and the moonlight shining through the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony of his hotel room are bright enough that it still feels like day. you're so focused on getting dressed and mentally running over your to-do list that you completely forget there's another person in the room until you hear his voice cutting through the silence.

“you don’t have to do that, y’know.”

you freeze and look up, your half-buttoned dress hanging loosely from your shoulders, your cheeks burning at the realization you’ve been caught.

jun swings his legs off the bed, crossing the room in a couple of strides before he’s standing in front of you. he’s wearing nothing except for the boxer shorts he threw on right before you fell asleep, and your cheeks flush even harder at the sight, despite the fact that you’ve already seen much more of him than this.

it takes every ounce of restraint you have to keep your eyes from straying, locked on his face before your gaze falls quickly to the floor where your sandals are left in a heap.

you didn’t mean to sneak off. but what else were you supposed to do? you hadn’t meant to fall asleep and stay as long as you did, either, and now you were stuck with the awkward conversation that always comes afterwards. the inevitable hurried goodbyes and uncomfortable tension as you try to put yourself back together and leave as fast as possible.

jun takes a small step closer to you, and despite all the confidence you know he has, it feels almost… tentative. as if you’re meeting for the first time and he isn’t sure whether or not he’s allowed to touch you yet.

there's a lingering feeling that you can't quite put your finger on yet. it's conflicting, because you know you can't stay but everything in you is screaming not to leave. maybe there's something you can do, anything you can do. is it all worth it? to turn your life around in a complete 180 for someone you barely even know— and yet, the last few hours that you’ve spent with him have been incomparably the best of your life.

after a moment he reaches out and starts to finish buttoning your dress for you, his fingers working them back through the loops with just as much care as he did when he was taking them off earlier.

“sorry,” you manage quietly, though you’re not even really sure what you’re apologizing for. a lot of things: sorry for running away, sorry for having feelings you probably shouldn’t be feeling, sorry for knowing this won’t work out despite the way you really, really wish it could.

but he just shakes his head as he finishes buttoning the last button. “i took it off. i can help you put it back on, too.” you can tell he knows what you had actually meant, but he’s ignoring it either for your sake or his. something about his words feels so easy, like all the problems in your head don’t mean anything anymore. here you are, an anxious and awkward and confused mess, and there he is, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress like it’s something he’s been doing all his life.

he adjusts the strap on your shoulder with a gentle pat, but his hands linger for a few seconds longer than they should, and you lift your eyes to meet his. “can i kiss you again?” he asks quietly, and for some reason his choice of words sticks with you. not one final kiss, not a goodbye kiss, just again. like he’s refusing to admit this will probably be the last time you’ll ever see each other.

and you nod, and his hands slide up to cup your cheeks and pull you back into his lips, just as warm and just as soft and just as familiar as the first time. there’s something so innocent about kissing him, even in the midst of a complicated and confusing mess of emotions that makes you second guess everything. somewhere in the back of your mind you vaguely register that this is the last time you’ll ever kiss him, but as long as his lips are on yours it doesn’t matter. you’ll figure out how to deal with all that later; for now, the only thing you’re concerned about is the way he grips your chin and pulls you even closer.

it feels like hours later when you finally pull away, letting out a slow exhale as you try to blink yourself back to reality, and you know what has to happen now. “can you find your hotel on your own? do you want me to walk back with you?” jun asks, and you can feel the hesitancy in his voice.

“it’s not far,” you sigh quietly, turning away to slip your feet into your sandals that wait by the bed where you’d taken them off earlier. you should’ve said yes. “but… thank you.” your words hold a sincere weight to them, and it’s silent for a few seconds as you cross the room quicker than you want to.

“you could stay,” he says finally, but his hand is already on the doorknob and you both already know the answer. you hate that you have to be the one to tell him no, even though it’s been clear from the start what the outcome would be. you give him a small shake of your head, and he pulls on the knob. 

he stands and stares for a minute, watching you walk down the hallway and praying you’ll turn around. and then you do, glancing back at him over your shoulder, and he almost allows himself to have a little bit of hope that you might come back, even though you both know you can’t. when you find him still standing in the doorway your eyes light up just the slightest bit, and finally you disappear with a tiny little wave.

the door clicks shut again, and the silence that follows is louder than anything he’s heard all day.

“and you didn’t even get this guy’s number?!”

you wince at the tone in jeonghan’s voice, rubbing the back of your shoulder guiltily. “his name, either.”

“even after the magic old lady said all that shit about soulmates?”

“she didn’t say that!” you huff. your tone rises almost defensively, although it probably has no reason to. she didn’t say anything about being soulmates… right? “she said something like, ‘keep your eyes open for stuff around you’. but he said he didn’t even believe in it, anyway.”

a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses walks past, and he snags a couple of them, holding one out to you. “well, it doesn’t sound like you’re keeping your eyes open. it sounds more like your eyes are closed, actually. are you blind?”

you scowl and take the glass from him. “my flight home is tonight, hannie. i’m not gonna see him again.” you take a sip, letting it sit in your mouth for a second before you swallow. “and besides, he said he was here for a wedding, too. he could be from anywhere in the world. it would be impossible to find him.”

“doesn’t hurt to at least try.” you both stop in front of a circular table covered in flowers, with a little placard next to one of the plates with jeonghan’s name on it. “i guess this is my table. you want me to help you look for yours?”

you shake your head, pointing to a table a little ways away. “i saw mine on the way in, it’s over there.”

“whatever,” he hums at you, but you know he’s just teasing. “i still wouldn’t blame you if you ditched and ran off to try and find him.”

“not happening!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away, matching his playful tone. but you can’t help but feel like maybe he’s right.

jun taps his fingers against the table, staring mindlessly at the bubbles floating in his glass of champagne. he’s stuck in his head— no, that’s not right. that’s not the problem. you’re stuck in his head. it’s nearly a full day later and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your breasts in his hands, the scent of the shampoo in your hair. if that wasn’t the most perfect hookup in the history of hookups, then he doesn’t wanna know what is.

he still feels bad for not even paying attention during the ceremony, because he was too busy imagining you and him up there on the altar kissing instead. god, what he wouldn’t give for another kiss like that. but just like you, he knows it never would’ve worked out, and despite the what-ifs that are chewing him up inside and the fact that he definitely, absolutely, totally would’ve tried to make it work however large the distance was, he knows it’s probably for the better. even if it means he’s gonna spend the rest of his life pining after a girl he met on vacation for less than a single day, and he’ll never even know your name.

he takes a swig of his champagne and tries to put on a cheery face. this is a wedding, after all, and he can’t afford to spend all his time pouting when he’s in a beautiful city by the seaside enjoying delicious food and near perfect weather.

and then he sees you.

not really, of course, because it’s probably the champagne going to his head after chugging the majority of his glass like a frat boy at a college party. but then he blinks, and it really is you, wandering around for a second before you sit down at a table on the other side of the venue, wearing a soft blue dress that’s even prettier than the one he saw you in yesterday.

he blinks again, not fully believing that it’s you and not just the combined effect of the alcohol and his daydreams, but you’re still there when he opens his eyes again. and he knows it’s you, because he can see the faint hickies on your back and shoulders that you clearly tried to hide with makeup but couldn’t fully reach.

the chances that he’d see you again—not even that, but the chances that you’d be attending the very same wedding he was—must be one in a billion. maybe even more. yet there you are, picking at your nail and staring wistfully at your empty plate as you wait for the reception to start.

he stares for another minute, just to make sure you’re actually real, before he stands up and makes his way to the terrace at the back of the venue where the groom is standing next to a tower of cupcakes.

“gyu,” he greets him, “hey. are we allowed to switch tables?”

“i… don’t think so?” mingyu hums, a little off guard by the sudden question. “i made sure we put you next to hao, but—”

“if i give you twenty bucks, can you put me at table 8 instead?” jun’s eyes flicker with desperation, and he has to force himself not to look back over at you.

mingyu whines apologetically and hesitates, glancing at his bride a little ways away as she talks to a table full of guests. “she did all this planning, jun, i can’t just change everything now…”

“it’s not changing everything.” jun pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket, already rifling through the bills. “i’ll make it a hundred. mingyu, please, just switch me,” he says.

the whine in jun’s voice makes him pause, and he bites his lip as he considers it. on one hand, he could have his brand new wife a little bit mad at him for a while (who’ll probably forgive him the second she gets in bed with him tonight), plus get to help his friend and get an easy hundred dollars out of it. or, on the other hand… he could not help him, and his wife would never know, and jun would probably hate him for some unknown reason even though he doesn’t think jun has a single bone in his body capable of hating anybody. the decision is easy.

mingyu takes the bills from jun’s hand and stuffs them in his pocket before anyone can notice. “go ahead,” he says, tossing his head in the direction of the table. “i don’t know what it is you want, but don’t let anybody see you.”

“thanks! i owe you!” jun grins and hugs him, letting out a noise almost like a squeal before he turns and dashes away.

you’re barely paying attention to the reception anymore as you sit with your chin in your hands, again mentally running over all the things you need to pack and how on earth you’re going to be able to board your flight tonight and leave everything behind. the beaches, the city… and him. how are you supposed to just get on a plane and get on with your life, knowing that he’s out there somewhere in the world, and you’re never going to see him again. 

you’re trying not to sulk, but you can’t help the way your mood has been sour all morning, already filled with regrets and you haven’t even left yet. maybe you should’ve skipped the wedding altogether and spent another day in his bed, wrapped up between his sheets and lying in his arms. but then the rational part of your brain reminds you that he was also in town for a wedding, so even if he’d wanted to or even been okay with doing that, he probably had other plans anyway.

you’re still trying to figure out what to do about your hopeless situation when you hear a sound close behind you. it startles you into putting a smile on your face, preparing yourself to socialize although you really aren’t in the mood to.

“is this seat taken?” jun asks as he pulls out the chair to your left and sits down.

your brows furrow in confusion, trying to place the familiar voice, until you turn around and your jaw drops when you see who it belongs to.

you stare at him in shock, your eyes darting back and forth between his trying to figure out what to say. “you’re not joshua,” is the best you can come up with as your mouth hangs open and you whip your head around to check the list of names assigned to this table. you recognize them all, yet here he is: the nameless stranger you’ve fallen so helplessly in love with in so short an amount of time.

he smiles at your reaction, and it’s such a genuine smile that you know he’s feeling exactly the way you do right now. “i guess you’re right. i’m not.” he brushes the name card in front of him to the side and sets his own down in its place instead before he holds out his hand to shake. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m jun.”

you pause for a minute, staring at his hand. you can’t believe this is real, you can’t believe he’s real; you’d almost been able to convince yourself that the whole encounter last night was a fever dream, if you hadn’t woken up in the morning with a soreness between your legs that screamed that it definitely was not a dream.

finally you reach out and take his hand, and even in that little touch you can tell it really is him, from the way your heart picks up when you feel the familiar softness of his skin and the gentle squeeze that sends goosebumps down your arm.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[nep-neptune-0]

5 AM

Xiangli Yao x Reader

Summary: You always had a habit of staying overnight at Huaxu Academy, tinkering away at your latest project; Xiangli Yao had a habit of visiting you for new ideas at the crack of dawn.

Content: fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: immediately downloaded the game after seeing an edit of him, got him through the Moon-Chasing Festival event and now I'm writing fanfic for him, sorry if I didn't portray him correctly!! I'm new to the game lmao

A few quick knocks pulled you out of your flow. What was the time? You threw a quick glance at your clock, almost 5 a.m.. That marked the 3rd night you had spent in the workshop, tinkering on your new creation. You slid your safety goggles up to your hairline, trying to blink away the blur that had settled over your vision. You really should start using the ceiling lamp along with your workbench lamp, otherwise you’d risk deteriorating your vision.   

Another sequence of knocks made you scramble up from the saddle stool, reminding you why you stopped your project in the first place. You were at the other side of the room at lightning speed. Your workshop was small, only enough to fit one relatively big table in the middle with a smaller one rammed up at the corner, decked out with tools and machines from your personal collection. The academy was generous enough to lend you various equipment, one of them being a large robotic arm with different functions that was attached to the bigger table, but you didn’t dare to use it unless it was for “serious work” as you liked to call it. 

The door wailed when you pulled it open. You really should oil it like how Xiangli Yao had suggested–

“Hello.”

Oh. 

Speak of the devil. It was always around this time he clocked into work. It was also around this time he visited your workshop, never failing to bring you breakfast, knowing you were more often than not neglecting your needs in pursuit of finishing your latest project. 

Xiangli Yao had crashed into your life just as violently as your prototype had when it hit an unsuspected Spearback. You didn’t think anyone would catch you in the midst of your experiments, since you made sure to do it in the dead of night far, far away from the city. But he had, and he was kind enough to escort you back to the academy, buying you breakfast before that. He had asked you about your creations, and without really thinking you started talking about your passion for battle focused tools and gushed over previous projects like they were your children. Afterwards, you had thought it was the first and last time you would have any kind of interaction with the Principal Investigator, but before you knew it, he was outside your workshop, asking you if you were down to discuss ideas for the next modification on his prosthetic arm. 

If you had thought a bit further, you probably would have questioned why he went to you specifically, a rookie, when there were an abundance of talented engineers and mechanics alike who could bring his ideas to life much more efficiently and with better quality. But you were too wrapped up in the excitement of creating something new you had ushered him inside, grabbing the only available chair that wasn’t on its last legs for him to sit on while you grabbed your notebook, eyes gleaming. 

The added mod had been a success after shedding blood, sweat, and tears day and night. You got to witness it with your own eyes when he asked you to head out with him at the first sign of light. The sunlight had painted him golden, and suddenly you weren’t as focused on his prosthetic as much. His movements had you entranced, not even daring to breathe in case it would disturb the vision in front of you. And that damn smile he directed towards you after defeating the enemy fully stole your breath away. Xiangli Yao was an unfair man.

As thanks, he had gifted you a saddle stool made of leather for your posture (though you still hunched over the desk like a shrimp) and for the fact your previous chair was merely a wooden one that would disintegrate at any given moment. You thought that would be it, but of course he defied your expectations and showed up a few weeks later, breakfast in hand with another idea. From then on he seemed to be keen on consulting you about potential modifications, ranging from battle focused ones to the more silly ones, like his ice maker that you had the honor to partake in creating. And before you knew it, he started spending some rare days in your workshop instead of his office, typing away and doing what scholars do while you were working on all different kinds of projects.

You had to admit you had developed a soft spot for the Principal Investigator during the times you spent together. You could never pinpoint when his visits started feeling like a part of your routine, or when you started looking forward to those moments. And somewhere along the way, you stayed behind just to catch him before you headed home, something you’d never admit to anyone or anything.

“I saw your light was on, so I thought to swing by before going to my office. I bought some Huanglong omelets–” he handed you a paper bag “–I also have an idea for a modification we could add to my prosthetic.”

That spurred you to pull out papers and different colors of pens, spreading them out on the bigger table before turning the ceiling lamp on. He had already started sketching before you even got an omelet in your mouth. 

You seated yourself on your chair and rolled to the other side of the table, eyes tracking every swipe of his hand to see the idea bloom on paper. His newest idea was battle oriented. Specifically some kind of tool that could give him the opportunity to snare and damage multiple opponents at once. You weren’t sure what went on in his head for such brilliant ideas to form, but you thanked the dragons out there for letting you witness it so intimately.

As he was sketching, he described his thought process, pausing sometimes to glance up at you for feedback, but you were busy stuffing your cheeks with omelet, barely able to sound out coherent sentences. 

Before long you had finished your breakfast, energized and ready to give some ideas yourself. You bounced ideas between each other. 

“For this,” Xiangli Yao circled one of his scribbles, “we can add a tool akin to a black hole that will detonate on the enemy I defeated, gathering the rest of them in one place while I’m charging up for an attack. I have an idea on what material we can use…”

You were absolutely starstruck.

“Xiangli Yao, the man you are.” You climbed on the table, crawling a short distance to get closer to him before rising to your knees and cupping his face in your hands, slightly shaking his head back and forth. “I’m sure you’ve heard this more than enough– but you are a genius.” 

A faint hue of pink dusted over his cheeks, and it was only then you realized how close you were to him. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Sorry I got carried away–”

Your panic was interrupted by the chill of his metal hand settling over yours. He looked up at you with such puppy eyes that were swirling with an indescribable emotion you wondered how you never noticed. 

Before you knew it, his other hand settled on the back of your head, and you were pulled down. 

His lips were soft. 

The sheer gentleness he treated you with sent electricity crackling in your veins. Your eyes fell shut and you could hear your heart beating in your ears. Your free hand slid down to the back of his neck, fingertips lightly brushing against the hair before it found a place on his shoulder, and you didn’t miss the way he quivered under your touch. 

Xiangli Yao parted with a sigh, eyes fluttering open to unabashedly stare at your face. He intertwined your hands, cool metal palm against the back of your warm hand, and raised it to his lips. Then he pecked your cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, before finally giving you another delicate kiss on your lips. 

“Can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner,” he murmured when he pulled away. You exhaled a laugh.

“I can’t believe it either– oh shit!” You quickly clambered off the table with his help. “I hope I didn’t ruin any of the sketches…”  

“Even if you did, we can just remake them,”  he declared nonchalantly. “Honestly, I would gladly let you ruin my research papers if I get to take you out on a date.”

“You don’t mean that!” you gasped. “You can do that without ruining your work.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t planning on it, don't worry. I’m gonna head to my office now. Just give me a call if you have any other ideas.”

“Will do, will do.”

“I’ll come pick you up at 6 pm today.” He gave you a quick kiss before making his way to the door. “See you then.”  

You were left a blushing mess in your workshop, now a new project and a date in your hands. 

Xiangli Yao was truly an unfair man.

[evanchantingpeters]

T(h)rust in me, I’m not over you... (Fanfic - Alex from Adult World)

Pairings ─ Alex (from Adult World) x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff

Summary ─ Y/N and Alex (aka Evan Peters in Adult World) are exes who haven’t quite let go. A friend’s birthday party turns into a comedy of errors when a black-out drunk Y/N accidentally enters Alex’s postcode as her own for a cab ride home. As Alex finds her at his doorstep and takes her in his place, old feelings resurface and steamy times go down in his bathroom.

Warnings ─ Swearing, smut, unprotected sex p in v, drinking, oral (m receiving), rough sex, nipple teasing, hangover sex, doggy, pretty smutty guys you’re being warned :)

Word count ─ 3.7K

18+ > If you’re a minor, DO NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

The birthday cake of your friend, Beatrice, stands proudly in the centre of her living room, decked out in colourful frosting and flickering candles.

You and the rest of the guests belt out the overdone ‘Happy Birthday’ song in what you think is perfect harmony. But here comes Jerry, Beatrice’s younger brother, who starts hollering the lyrics off-key, stealing the show. 

Snorting, the birthday girl nudges her brother away, leaning over the cake to blow out the candles. Just as she’s mouthing her wish, Jerry, wearing a wicked grin, swoops in and dips his sister’s face right into the cake. 

The room erupts in uproarious laughter as Beatrice’s expression goes from shocked to amused. She taps her cake-covered eyes to remove some chocolate. Then, she turns to Jerry with a look that’s half playful, half ‘I’m plotting revenge.’ 

“You’re in for it now, Jerry!” she barks. And just like that, an all-out frosting war breaks out, turning the room into a sugar-fuelled battlefield. Cake crumbs are flying in every direction, but you manage to dodge most of it with only a few cake-bulleted stains along the hem of your black dress.

You retreat to a corner of the room, sipping your Prosecco like you’re watching sitcom chaos unfold from afar. Suddenly, you notice a stranger in a fancy tux sauntering over, a sly grin playing on his plump lips. 

“Well, looks like you’ve stayed mostly unscathed… or shall I say un-caked?” he chirps, his voice deep and throaty as he nods toward the cake war raging on. 

You just shrug, tossing him a faint, uninterested smile, “Good reflexes, I guess,” you quip, giving him a quick once-over before turning back to the cake madness. You feel his dark green eyes scanning you as if you’re going through airport security. 

He chuckles, and leans in. “If you need someone to scrub the marks off your dress, I’m your guy,” he whoops, playfully thumping his chest. He extends his hand with an inviting smile. “Tony.” 

“Y/N,” you reply bluntly, your energy matching that of a deflated balloon. 

Unfazed by your meh vibes, Tony decides to turn up the heat on the handshake, taking you aback as he begins to stroke your wrist. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous,” he purrs, his eyes never leaving yours.

In a bold move, he lightly kisses the back of your hand, his stubble scratching your skin. 

You instinctively pull away, trying to force a polite smile, but a nervous twitch is all you manage. Your intrusive thoughts kick in, lecturing you (as usual), ‘Give the guy a chance, Y/N. Seriously, after Alex, all you think about is eye-gouging dudes with a spoon? Get a grip and move on!’

“Enjoying the party, Y/N?” he asks, snapping you out of your mental mess.  

“It’s not too bad. I’m here for Beatrice,” you retort, fetching a glass of wine from the buffet. Your eyes drift to the birthday girl, now caked from head to toe and giggling hysterically. You can’t help but crack a smile.

“Sorry, gotta go. Trice’s calling me,” you blurt out and lunge toward your friend, catching a muffled, “No, she didn’t” from behind as you’re practically escaping.

As the night barrels on, your party spirit is like the Energizer Bunny on steroids. You’re all in, downing shots and cocktails like they’re on a liquid clearance sale.

Yet, the question looms in the air: Are you drinking for the sheer fun of it or just drowning sorrows in that cocktail shaker? Alex heartache mode on. 

Before you know it, you’re totally sloshed, messily sprawled on a plush couch, using Tanya’s (another friend of yours) knees as your personal pillow. “Iiiiii reeeeally like your boooody, bodyyy, yeah. I reaaaaally wanna get naughtyyyyy I think you’re such a hottieeeee,” you croak out each word of the pop track with a slur, laughing uncontrollably. Your eyes are shut, lost in your boozy world.  

As you ramble on, Tony, who’s been lurking around, seizes the moment and leaps out from behind the couch. He casually nudges Tanya’s arm, yelling, “You heard that, Tansy?” with theatrical flair. “She thinks I’m a hottie!” His grin spreads wider than a rubber band as he arrogantly points at himself, acting like he’s the main character of your drunken karaoke.

Tanya clicks her tongue in mild annoyance and cuts in with a hiss, “Tony! Behave, man!” She softly kisses the top of your head in a futile attempt to soothe your booze-induced storm. 

“I offered to clean up her dress…” Tony goes on, hovering over the couch. “But, not gonna lie, I’d rather have it crunched up on my bedroom floor as she moans my name,” he murmurs, emphatically banging his fist on the couch before doubling up with laughter. 

“Oh, hush it, Tony,” Tanya roars and waves him away, turning back to you and your delirium, which has hit the roof. “I need to get you home, girl, and none of us is fit to drive…”

Tony, not one to give up easily, chimes in once more. “I volunteer! I’d give her a lift all day, all night.”

“No, we’re all catching a cab,” she declares with a tone that brooks no argument. She lightly pokes your shoulder. “Y/N, my love?” 

Your tipsy babbling starts to fade into a murmur that seems to be lulling you to sleep. “Y/N,” Tanya repeats. “What’s your postcode, sweetie?” 

Your alcohol-soaked brain struggles to register this simple question. “P-postcode? P-o-s-t-d, no. P-p,” you stutter.

“Yes, darling. Confirm your postcode for me, would you? I don’t have it saved,” Tanya says calmly, holding her phone in front of your face. 

With a grunt, you manage to sit up, but the world continues to dance spinning salsa around you. With an unsteady hand, you reach for the device, and your fingers fumble as you try to type out the letters and digits. 

Deep in your drunken haze, you unconsciously punch in a code that matches anything else but your address.

“To the hottieeeeee,” you shout, throwing your fist in the air before dropping yourself back onto your friend’s knees. 

“Ma,am, we’re here,” the taxi driver announces to Tanya that’s sat next to him, his hoarse voice slicing through the quiet of the car. 

Tanya swivels around to face the backseats, where you’re laid down, totally passed out. “Y/N,” she calls softly, giving your leg a gentle rub, but you don’t stir. 

She hops off the car and speed-walks to your side. With great care, she helps you out by wrapping her hands around you. Your arm is looped around her shoulder for stability. “Biyatchhhh, I saiddd whooo I saeee… who da biyaatch? Am da biyatchh,” you hoot, swaying and leaning heavily on your friend as you pinch her cheek with a goofy smile. 

“Y/N, just a sec,” Tanya huffs out as she shoves herself back in to retrieve your purse and coat from the car floor. 

You both stumble your way through the labyrinthine apartment complex. “You got your house key?” she asks, catching her breath. 

It takes a hot minute for the information to hit as you stare at your friend like a deer in headlights. With an unexpected burst of energy, you break free from Tanya’s hold, almost tripping a few steps away. “My Tanoushka, I'm sho happy you haar!” You cry out and lurch back toward her, showering her with enthusiastic smooches on her cheeks.

Then, in a theatrical whirl, you pop open the purse and jangle your keys in her face. “Jiggly, jiggly. Okiee, goooo, go, go!” you cheer in a wobbly dance, urging Tanya to get back into the car.

With an anxious look on her face, Tanya stands by the open car door. “Alright, phone me once you’re indoors,” she insists, her worried eyes laser-focused on you.

You shoo her away absentmindedly as you stagger toward the complex’s main door. You wrestle with the key, wriggling and twisting it into the lock, but miserably fail to get in the building. “Bad key,” you playfully scold, wagging a finger at the stubborn piece of metal before giving it a light slap. 

Soon after, your fingers impulsively begin to clumsily hit the buttons on the intercom, creating a cacophony of buzzing sounds that echo through the entryway. “O-o-o-pen uuup,” your slurred shouting rings through the intercom. “Shtupidd thaang,” you whine, practically bashing the device.

Out of the chorus of tenant voices that crackle through the speaker almost simultaneously, Alex’s familiar voice stands out.

“Y/N? Y/N is that you?” Hearing the shaky and uncertain voice, Alex doesn’t waste a second. He dashes down the stairwell and swings the entrance door wide open, facing a dishevelled Mia, rocking around about to collapse. 

“Y/N,” he gasps and sprints to you. “What happened? Why are you here?” His brows furrow in confusion as he observes your smudged makeup and dress that’s askew.

You look up at him with a lopsided smile, your eyes all bloodshot and half-lidded. “Alex, my hottieee. I mishhhsed you so muschh!” you exclaim, your sentences meandering as you lounge at him for a sloppy hug.

“Shit, you’re hammered,” he mutters, worry spurs him into action. With superhero speed, he scoops you up, your butt facing upwards, hands hanging loosely off his back. 

Your giggles echo as Alex carries you onto his shoulder with ease, making his way to the lift that leads to his place. In a soft, reassuring whisper, he says, “Don’t worry, baby,” and plants a kiss on your thigh that’s now resting on his chest. “I’ll take care of you,” he adds, giving you a playful spank on the ass. 

Once inside, Alex makes a pitstop in the kitchen for a water bottle while you dangle off his shoulder like a ragdoll, humming nonsense. He heads to the bedroom and gently lays you on the bed, making sure your landing is as comfy as a cloud. 

Kneeling beside you, he begins to delicately take off your high heels, rubbing your legs along the way. “Who needs a napkin when your dress can double as a tissue, right?” he chuckles softly, tracing the dry cake marks on your outfit, unaware of the sugary fight earlier. “You’ve officially introduced ‘cake couture’ to the fashion world,” he teases, trying to bundle you in a blanket like a burrito.

You slowly lift your head from the pillow, your neck muscles tightening with the effort as you stare at him with bleary yet intent eyes. “I want shyour cakey,” you mewl, wriggling under the blanket on a mission to liberate your hands.

You tug on his hoodie, pulling him closer until he loses his balance and topples onto you. Your bodies press together, and your voice comes out in a pleading whine. “Alex?” 

“Yes?” he rasps out, his dark brown eyes flicking down to your lips and then up into your eyes. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble and perk up, slowly grazing your lips against his, eyes shut. 

The strong scent of alcohol wafts from you, but, in that moment, Alex seems beyond minding. His heart races too erratically to care, and his breaths are too jagged and wild to bother. The room seems to shrink for both of you, and he swallows hard.

“No, Y/N,” he snaps, his voice firm and resolute as he jumps up. “I’d never let this happen... not right now... not with you being like this.” He snatches the water bottle from the bedside table, unscrewing it with a sense of urgency.

Slightly dazed, you touch your lips. “Tickles, tickles, ticklish,” you squeak, breaking into soft giggles. In a sudden and wobbly move, you shift position, popping up on your knees on the bed. “Huggies,” you whoop facing him, arms wide open for an embrace.

But, just as quickly, your mood takes a detour, and now you’re wincing, yanking at the fabric of your outfit in frustration, “This dresshh is prison, tightiee,” you grunt, hiking your dress up only to reveal your red panties.

His eyes can’t help but stare down there as he rubs the back of his neck almost compulsively, his breath hitching in his throat. At the sight of you half-naked, the dilemma of whether to give in or resist intensifies, swirling in his mind on end.

“Hold up, I don’t want you catching a cold or something. I’ve got a top you can slip into,” he says, puffing out his words while pacing toward his wardrobe to avoid looking at her.

“Heeey,” you yell with an unexpectedly stern tone that catches him off guard. But, just as swiftly, your face softens into a sweet, almost kiddish smile that instantly cools things off.

You wave Alex over, beckoning him to approach. “Come, come, comeyyy,” you coo. 

You perch next to him again, still rocking that mischievous smile. “It’s a secret, tiny winnie one,” you whisper-shout, pinching your index finger and thumb near your face, closing one eye for added drama. “Just between you and me,” you poke as you emphasise ‘me.’ 

Alex nods as his grin stretches from ear to ear. “Okay…” he chuckles, officially joining your light-hearted moment.

“Shhhhh,” you dramatically hush, squishing your index finger against your lips like you’re sharing classified intel. “Secret-t-t-t.”

Alex snorts. His rolls his lips into his mouth as he lowers his head to hold back a laugh. “My bad, my bad. Go on,” he whispers with exaggerated enthusiasm. He’s clearly having a blast with your goofy antics.

“Don’t tell Alex… Neva eva!” 

“I won’t, I won’t,” he assures you, theatrically raising his finger for a pinky promise. 

You take an unusually long moment to process his gesture and what it represents. A sober person would never… Eventually, you sloth-slowly glance back at him, nonchalantly deciding to give up on the symbolism behind the lifted pinky finger. “He’s the kindestsht… and p-p-prettiest boy I’ve eeeeever met,” you exclaim. Your fingers—guided by intoxicated conviction—clumsily roam over his face, stretching his nostril and trailing down to his bottom lip. 

Your drunken self radiates an innocent sincerity that makes Alex’s heart throb like a hammer. Flattered and charmed by your confession, he gazes at you bashfully.

His warm smile broadens as he keeps on staring and admiring you.

“He’s shhhuper,” you squeal, forming a heart shape with your fingers, peeking at him through it. “Do youse… hic… I should gimme… no… not me… him, give HIM head to say thank yew for treatin' spoooooon good?”

Alex can’t help but crack up, though his cheeks turn rosy—a testament to his shy nature. He cups his chin and narrows his eyes mischievously, like he’s in deep thought. “Hmm, if we’re talking about Alex, your ex...I think you should give him head, BUT,” he exclaims, throwing a finger into the air. 

You gasp, playfully covering your mouth like you’ve heard the most shocking news. Your eyes bulge with feigned surprise. “Beyond all,” he argues, “I think you should totally get back together. He thinks you broke up for something very silly, and he’s dying to be with you.”

You abruptly jerk away from him, gagging as if you’re about to throw up. You feel the blood draining from your face as a wave of distress washes over you.

Alex’s eyes widen with concern as he instinctively rises from the bed, “Off we go to the bathroom,” he insists, rushing to follow you.  

Your nausea takes a sudden turn, and you can’t hold back any longer. Barely making it to the toilet in time, you let it all out. Your body heaves with each retch, and you feel miserable.

Alex, the unsung hero, drops to his knees and chucks the water bottle on the floor. He gently pulls your hair back, creating a makeshift puke-proof barrier. All the while, he rubs your back to make the whole ordeal less horrible.

Then, he’s quick on his feet, grabbing some toilet paper for the post-barf clean-up. As you dab your lips, he hands you the bottle to rinse. “I’m disgustiiing, don’t look,” you grumble, shooing him away as you spit water in the toilet before flushing.

“You’re still a wonder to my eyes,” he whispers, running a hand through your loose hair. “And the timing—you puke just as I suggest we get back together, Y/N” he mocks, adding a sprinkle of humour to the less-than-glamorous moment.

You groan and let your head flop onto the toilet seat. “Ahhh, my moussth feels weird… bruushh,” you mumble, rubbing your lips. 

Alex lifts you up, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Not brushing yet, baby. We’re swishing with some hydrogen peroxide and water to protect the enamel,” he instructs you, preparing the said concoction in a small measuring cup next to you. “Here you go, wash off.”

“Shhh, you’re a niiieeerd,” you whine after spitting the liquid, feeling it sting your tongue. Giggling, you yank at Alex’s hoodie and playfully sway him back and forth, your minty breath fanning his face.

Then, you suddenly stop and fix him right in the eye. “Aleeex?” you whimper, lips pouting.

“Yes, Y/N,” he asks calmly, sweeping a few strands of hair off your face as a half smirk curls up his lips. He enjoys the banter that weaves through your drunken fog.

“Fuck me,” you plead, fiddling with the buckle of his belt. 

Alex’s pulse quickened for a second, held in an irregular rhythm. All the while, your fingertips caress his lower stomach, trying to slip through his trousers and onto his boxers. 

You let go when he clears his throat loudly, a deliberate attempt to regain composure. Breathing heavily, he manages a tight-lipped as he strokes your head, tenderly placing it on his shoulder.

“Ohhh, I knoooow,” your exclaim and sit up, your index finger playfully pressing against your mouth. “I willshh brush me an’ you fuck me.” 

Forty minutes later, you’re done with her hardcore toothbrushing session, complete with a few rounds of gargling mouthwash. Alex hands you a towel with a warm smile. You’re still wobbly but muster a grateful grin.

“Thaaank, yew rock,” you slur, clumsily patting your face dry. 

Alex chuckles, “Better?”

You hum, nodding, but your bleary eyes suddenly light up mischievously. Out of impulse, you slide into the tub, turning the water knob. You start splashing around, water welling up everywhere as you laugh uncontrollably. Alex, caught in the aquatic crossfire, shields himself with his hands.

“What’s the goal? Turning this into a water park?” he jokes, still trying to dodge the watery onslaught. But you’re having none of it. You grip his arm and drag him into the splash party.

Soon, you’re both a wet, tangled mess, laughing like loons, lost in the bliss of the moment. As water skims through the contours of your bodies, there’s a switch in the atmosphere. Amidst the fun chaos, your eyes meet inches away from each other, and the laughter mellows into a shared silence.

Before you realise it, your lips crash in a spontaneous kiss. You spread your legs, letting him wade through and tower over you. Soft moans escape him, and the vibrations against your mouth send delightful shivers down your backbone. You know that’s not just a collision of flesh; it transcends into a harmonious blend of passion and connection.

“I want you, Alex,” you sigh with newfound clarity, miraculously not stumbling over your words in an intoxicating joy for the first time tonight. You push the back of his head to deepen the kiss, your tongues now twisting and twirling in a sensual waltz.

He hungrily gropes handfuls of your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses across the crook of your neck.

“Y/N.. no... stop it,” he protests when your hand ventures down his trousers, rubbing along his growing bulge. Your quivering breaths mingle as he breaks the kiss. Skillfully, he turns off the water as he steps out of the tub. “It’s the alcohol talking now, not you.” 

You frown, clutching on the edges of the tub for balance. “The alcohol has shut up; I speak now,” you groan as you stand on your feet. Your drenched dress clings to your body, outlining your figure. Feeling the weight of the soaked fabric, you decide to free yourself from it. 

You strip down to your panties, and your soft, pink nipples rise like rosebuds in bloom, betraying a quiet anticipation. Alex sucks in a sharp breath as he watches your every move all mesmerised, eyes widening, lips parted.

“Ever seen someone redefine the art of walking a tightrope?” you chirp, water dripping down your half-naked body. Sinking to your knees, you get on all fours and slowly begin to crawl to him.

You sway your hips in a sensuous, almost hypnotic rhythm, eyes fixed on Alex. All the while, you trace a perfectly straight line to him, proving your recovered sobriety. 

Arriving at his pelvic level, you gracefully sit back on your heels with a coy smile, maintaining eye contact. “See?” you whisper, tilting your head as your eyes travel down at his erection. You don’t dare to touch; you just marvel at his full length (realistically speaking).

Staring down at you with a knowing, crooked smirk, he runs his fingers through your damp hair, tenderly petting your head. 

“Someone’s suffering here. Let’s free this big boy, shall we?” you purr, brushing your fingers along his hard rock crotch, feeling it twitch upon touch. 

He quickly nods in despair as if he’s unable to utter a single syllable. You slowly roll down his trousers and boxers. He gasps as you finally take hold of his large shaft.

You push his tip in your mouth, flattening your tongue, and swipe down the underside ridge of his stiff dick, humming in delight. He groans louder than you expected as you slowly work his cock in and out, grazing your fingers over the ridges of his abs under his t-shirt.

You pull him back out of your mouth just to slide all the way back down. He’s practically growling at this point, clasping onto the corners of the sink—his vein-y arms make your sex twice as moist.

You regain your slow, teasing pace just to gauge his reaction. Letting out a whine like he can’t take it anymore, he grips your hair tighter, pushing you all the way down his dick. His head is now building on pressure as it strikes the back of your throat, bringing tears to your eyes. His hair grip loosens as his breaths start escaping him in choked, punchy gasps. 

You’re sucking him whole, from his taint down to his balls, dripping your saliva all over him the harder you draw him into your mouth. Your swollen pussy is tingling for him as you feel him hardening in your mouth, forcing loud moans out of you.

Knowing that your next move will finish him, you slow down again and grab him by the waist, gazing up at him. That’s when you begin to take him in faster and rougher, feeling his hips thrust harder each time. 

And… proven! With the change in speed, he lets out a series of choppy moans only to shoot his hot cum in your mouth right after. He stares down at you breathless, mouth agape, as you gulp down his sweet taste with rapid, eager swallows, savouring his taste with a giggle. 

“My girl,” he rasps out as he picks you up from the floor effortlessly yet almost in a trance, his dick still throbbing in your hands. He peels his t-shirt off, turning you around so you both face the large bathroom mirror.

Positioned behind you, he holds you close and smacks your ass hard, making you squeal with surprise. The squeal soon turns into a moan as the pain fades into pleasure. 

You smile slyly as you observe his muscular hands travelling from your hips all the way up to your waistline and tits. You gasp softly when you feel his erection on your back as his mouth nibbles the flushed skin of your neck, leaving soft love bites in his wake.

“I want you to cum inside me, Alex” you blurt out and take hold of his shaft from behind, slowly sliding the head though your tight moist slit in short thrusts. 

“Oh, yeah,” he grunts, biting his bottom lip as he feels your wet lips wrap around him. He instantly fills his hands with your hard nipples, squeezing and rubbing them as he looks at your reflection. “Anything for you, Y/N,” he mutters against your ear in a low, husky voice before knocking himself deep inside you, balls deep, making you scream. His hands roughly grip your thighs to keep you steady and close to him.

Small sobs leave you as you instinctively grab the ends of the sink, bending over to cope with taking him deeper. “Just there,” you yelp, panting, as he starts pounding harder, your hair twisted around his hand. With each thrust, his sack slaps against your clit, making you lose your shit.

Every time your pussy gets to the base of his cock, you pump into him with an intense tempo and move your hips around, making his cock swirl inside your body.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you cry out with shallow, jagged puffs, rising and resting your head on his shoulder.

He pinches your nipples between his knuckles with one hand while with the other, he starts massaging your clit with circular motions. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper in pure ecstasy as a hot flush courses through you, your cunt aching and begging to release.

“You take in me so well, baby. Give it to me,” he groans, his voice a throaty sensual rasp that makes you shudder.

“Yeees,” you scream, writhing and grinding against him until you feel warm liquid dripping down your legs. 

He keeps riding your orgasm out with you, fucking the liquids in back until he hits his own high. And then it happens—his cum gushing inside you, stuffing you up.

Out of breath, Alex pulls himself out of you, watching his cum leak out. He lazily grins at you, his curls sticking to his head, and you tuck them all back with trembling hands, giggling. 

“This pussy and her owner over here will be the death of me,” he chuckles, gasping for air as he pulls you in for a sloppy, heated kiss.

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

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[stra-tek]

The TV shows and movies: Everyone has seen them, they're the canon, everyone knows about it, it's all good. Even the stuff that contradicts the other stuff. Even the episodes and movies everyone hates.

The novels and comics: 2% of the viewing audience have read them. They probably happened between episodes, but they're never ever referred to on TV (except that ONE time on Voyager). Vetted thoroughly (well, since Killing Time at least) and approved by people involved in the show prior to publishing.

The fanfic: These adventures are so numerous and secret, not even the people involved in the show knows about them (erm... with the exceptions of Spirk and Garashir, which have been referenced in Lower Decks and the Lower Decks mobile game. And Ni'Var being named for a poem in an ancient fanfic. And T'Khut. And possibly Una but maybe that's coincidence because after all Una = One). Literally anything can and does happen. Did they happen? Who knows? Who cares? They sometimes get to have sex. Gay sex.

The fan films: Non-canon adventures where the uniforms don't fit so well, sometimes featuring some of the actual Trek actors so not very secret at all. Probably happened in alternate universes with inferior Starfleet tailoring.

The fan manuals: Often more detailed and thoroughly researched than the official ones. Deck by deck plans of starships, instructions on what buttons do what on the bridge and extremely exhaustive backstories for starships only mentioned in passing in official technical books. The people in charge know they exist and shut loads down in the 90's for trying to make money off the Star Trek name. Did they all happen? So long as you don't try to actually compare walking routes on the shows to the floorplans of the Enterprise.

The fan art: At a con Mark Leonard (Sarek) once saw a naughty 'zine illo of naked, chained up Spock. Denise Crosby has been sent Data/Tasha naughty art. People involved in the shows sometimes see it, and are often bewildered by it. Oh, and IDW kept accidently tracing fan art of starships in their comic books because I think they just use Google image search. Did they happen? Yes. Especially the naughty ones.

The A.I. art: endless shitposts of your favourite characters doing anything your caffeine addled, sleep-deprived brain can come up with. Spock taking down the Christmas tree? Kirk cleaning the gutter? Picard having a replicator/soup catastrophe? Riker defeating John Cena at Wrestlemania? Janeway making ends meet by posing for naughty magazines in her Academy days? The people involved in the shows probably actively wish it didn't exist (at least until they find a way to monetise it). Did they happen? Well it's kinda like that time Barclay made out with a holographic copy of Troi...

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

First of all congrats once again on the milesone bby!!! for the sleepover can I as a micro drabble for jack and pirate AU ?? honestly at first I was going to ask for frankie but jack just felt like a better fit fbfgb love u <333

Sil my love! I had the time of my life sailing the seas with Pirate!Jack. Inevitably, this Captain Jack is partly inspired by the OG Captain Jack Sparrow and POTC. I loved POTC fanfic back in the day, so thank you so much for sending this prompt!

Jack Daniels x pirate AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 889 words | warnings: non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, childhood sweethearts, mention of arranged marriage, historical romance

The last time you saw him was seven years ago, when you hurled words dipped in hurt and  teenage venom at him as he held you, his beat-up leather bag at his feet by the water.

‘I need to go and earn my fortune, or your father will never let you marry me. Can’t you understand that?’ he pleaded with you.

‘We can run away!’ you insisted, your cheeks streaked with ugly tears.

He shook his head, kissing you on your forehead. ‘I want you to have a life you deserve, and I can’t give it to you if I don’t do this.’ 

Taking off the only thing he has of value - his mother’s gold ring set on a chain - he slipped it over your head and kissed you one last time.

‘I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, darlin’.’

You stand on that very same dock now. You’ve grown up. You’re taller, sadder, and you wear your melancholy like a shroud. You’re set to sail across the seas to England, a country you’ve never set foot on; and to marry your betrothed, a man you’ve never met.

You’re numb, resigned to your fate. Jack is dead. Or he’s found someone else, married and happy in a distant, exotic land. It doesn’t make a difference either way.

His mother’s ring, the only thing you have left of him, hangs between your breasts, digging into your skin under your corset, the same place it’s been all these years.

Your chambermaid asks gently, ‘Are you ready, my lady?’

You nod.

And you walk the plank.

The sound of cannon fire jolts you violently out of your sleep, and you bolt up from your uncomfortable little cot. It sounds like hell unleashed up on deck above, the sound of boots and violence right on top of your head.

Your chambermaid bursts into your room with one of your coats in her hands.

‘What’s happening?’ you ask frantically.

‘Pirates!’ she screams.

She throws the coat over your shoulders, and you hastily pull on a pair of boots. Once you’re decent, a lieutenant appears to escort you both to safety.

It’s bedlam above. The bitter tinge of gunpowder stings your eyes and nose, the smell of blood turns your stomach, and then the screams and the clang of swords - the lieutenant presses a hand to the back of your head so you’re looking at your feet as you sprint across deck, or you surely would have fainted.

Your entourage makes it to the back of the ship, where one of the rowing boats is ready to be lowered into the water - when you hear a gun being cocked at the back of your head.

‘Not so fast, darlin’.’

Darlin’.

You’d know that voice anywhere.

Your chambermaid shrieks in fright when the lieutenant falls onto the floor from a blunt crack of the butt of a pistol against his head.

Slowly, you turn around.

His eyes are the same. The same brown, but now, there are lines around them and creases at the corners. He’s obviously seen a lot of sun, freckles and marks pepper his face, and curls peek from underneath the wide-brimmed hat he wears. Behind him, you see the looming figure of a ship flying the unmistakable black flag of a skull with two swords underneath it.

Jack grins at you. ‘Hello, darlin’.’

You walk straight up to him and slap him across the face, with everything you got. From the corner of your eye, you see the other bedraggled pirates gasp at your bold action as his head whips to one side at the force.

But he only grins wider and pulls you into him by your wrists. He smells of the sea, musky, with the distinct whiff of ocean salt.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ you spit at him, your traitorous eyes brimming with tears.

He clucks teasingly. ‘What a tongue you’ve got on you now, darlin’.’

You shove at him with your whole body, but he barely budges. ‘Fuck you, Jack. I waited for you, and you never came back for me.’

He cocks his head to one side. ‘I did come back for you, darlin’, I was at our hometown but three days ago - only to be told that you were on your merry way to marry some landed gentry across the sea. And that simply won’t do - I’m a pirate darlin’, and I don’t share what’s mine.’

You scoff. ‘I’m not yours, Jack. You lost me when you left me seven years ago.’

‘It’s Captain Jack to you, thank you very much,’ he retorts playfully, unfazed by your ire. You gasp when he unceremoniously rips open the lapels of your coat, and one rough fingertip trails down your bare neck, curling around the delicate gold chain that you never take off.

His eyes soften at the sight of his mother’s ring. ‘You lie so well, you’ll make an excellent pirate yourself, darlin’.’

Grabbing him by the scruff of his collar, you kiss him hard, his big hands gripping your waist, crushing you into his embrace. Brushing his nose against yours, he pulls back. 

‘I should’ve asked you all those years ago,’ he says, regret colouring his words. ‘Will you marry me?’

You palm his cheek, grinning through tears. ‘Yes, my captain, a thousand times yes.’

[deityoftherain]

cuddle hideaway - Zombiewood LimL-Setting Fanfic

This can be read as platonic, queerplatonic, or romantic, I just don't know their duo name so I'm marking it with "zombiewood" :D

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Other

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 1,275

Summary: Tired of playing single mother of two to Bdubs and Scar, Cleo trekked across the map to visit their soulmate, Martyn, on the Coral Isles.

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Knock, knock, knock!

The quick pattern sounded against the door to the Coral Isles, announcing Cleo’s presence before they ever even used their voice. “Martyn?” Martyn raised a brow at the call, curious as to what Cleo (or, perhaps, The Clockers in general) needed. Considering the “walls” weren’t actually walls at all– pushing through bamboo and sugar cane was annoying, but not impossible– the door was useless in keeping people out. Most just went around it, but here Cleo was, waiting patiently.

Who knows how long that patience would last?

“Yeah? What’s up?” Martyn inquired, exiting the chest room to go around the building and approach the zombie hybrid. “If you’re looking for Scott, he’s not here.”

“I’m actually here for you,” Cleo corrected as Martyn opened the door and took her appearance in.

Her curly, fiery red hair was partly held back with a pink headband, though some of her bangs still spilled over onto her forehead. The band was situated around her head like his own black one was, a spark of something igniting within him. He doubted that she donned the headband because of him and, logically, he knew it was because of the whole eighties exercise disco zombie look she was going for, but he was okay with lying to himself that it signified remnants of their soulbound connection carrying over from Double Life.

Once he moved on from that speck of hope, he noticed that Cleo looked more exhausted than usual, even for a death game. Their shoulders were hunched forward slightly (which was unlike them, for they usually held their head high, even when they objectively shouldn’t) and their bloodshot eyes were creased with lack of sleep. 

Martyn had experienced exhaustion just as much as the next Player, but that didn’t tend to hit him or any of the other Players he’d talked to until after the winner was declared. The world the games were hosted on usually gave them buffs that upped their strength, resistance to damage, and energy. Knowing that begged the question, why?

Before he could ask, Cleo continued with a weak, “Can I come in?”

Martyn raised an eyebrow at them, considering their question for a moment. They didn’t appear to have malicious plans– and he was weaker to his soulmate’s desires than he was willing to admit– so he stepped back and held the door open for them to walk through. “I won’t stop you.”

Cleo only nodded, officially entering the Coral Isles with permission from one of its cohabitates. That was more than what the rest of the server could claim, for they just barged in most of the time. Careful to avoid the pufferfish that Scott had placed around, Martyn led her up to the deck of their base. Scott had decorated it for company (even if the company was just each other), so it was the most comfortable place above water to take someone. 

“So whatcha here for?” Martyn turned on his heel to face her before flopping down on the cushions in one fluid motion. “I mean, I’m always down to have a bit of a chinwag, especially with you, but y’know: death game, separate factions, limited time, Limited Life.”

“No reason in particular,” Cleo dismissed with a wave of their hand before sitting down near him. Their lips curled into a lighthearted smirk and their eyes gleamed mischievously as they leaned to poke Martyn’s side. “Why? Am I not allowed to see my soulmate and my kids’ godfather?”

Martyn batted her hand away with a chuckle. “I mean, a’course you’re allowed, you always are, but you don’t typically come all the way over here unless you need something. I’m usually the one coming to you.” Cleo’s playful expression morphed back to one of exhaustion as they sighed and rubbed at their face. “I just needed a break from Bdubs and Scar, some peace and quiet, a little tranquility. I love them to the stars and back, as I do with all my friends, don’t get me wrong, but playing the role of ‘mother’ is so, so draining.”

“I can imagine.” Martyn frowned as he glanced in the direction of the Clockers’ base, furrowing his brow for only a moment before turning his attention back to Cleo. “Eyy, well, mate, you’re always free to crash here. I’m sure Scott won’t mind; you two have always been close. Widows’ alliance, chosen soulmates, gatekeep and gaslight, y’know.”

Cleo cracked a smile at that, an airy laugh escaping from their lips. “Thank you, Martyn. You’re the best.”

“I know.” Martyn smirked, allowing overexaggerated confidence to accent his words before he patted the spot next to him. “Now get over here. Your soulmate is insisting on cuddle time. It’s mandatory, no use in protesting.”

“Is that so?” Cleo covered a mildly breathy snort with her hand, accompanied with an affectionate eyeroll and head tilt.

“It is,” Martyn confirmed. “Now hurry up! I’m not getting any younger over here.” “I do see a few silver-y hairs among the blonde,” Cleo responded like it was an agreement, sporting a cheeky grin as she stood up to move herself beside him. “Too bad you aren’t part-zombie because I don’t have to worry about covering up signs of my age like you clearly have to start doing, old man.”

Martyn pinched her arm in retaliation, making Cleo yelp in protest. He barked sharply at her yelp, feeling a sense of triumph and knowing that it didn’t actually hurt. They’ve felt much, much worse playing these games, and the server would numb that sensation significantly to help with the whole killing each other thing. “That’s what you get!”

“You’re the worst,” Cleo huffed, leaning her body into Martyn, using him like a pillow.

Martyn wrapped his arm around his sleepy soulmate, more than content with this fate. Still, he couldn’t resist shooting back, “I thought I was the best?”

“I would like to retract my earlier statement,” Cleo murmured into his chest, red hair standing out against his neon green shirt. 

“Denied, now go to sleep,” Martyn instructed, resting one hand on their back and the other against the back of their head. He gently scratched his fingers against her scalp and she sighed peacefully in response, taking his command of sleeping to heart. 

It didn’t take long before soft snores rumbled in her chest. Martyn peered fondly down at her before pressing a caring yet chaste kiss against her untamable curls. One would think they smelled foul because of their zombie hybridity, but they didn’t. They smelled more, like, vaguely earthy? Martyn struggled to place it, but if he had to, he would describe their scent as turned dirt and foliage with a faint hint of smoke.

Tiredness tugged at his eyelids and he wondered if perhaps he should sleep as well. Void knows they both probably need it, especially with how bloodlust-y everyone has been (seemingly more so than usual for how few reds there were) because of the ticking timer. Besides, there were much worse ways to spend an afternoon than being trapped under his soulmate’s resting body.

Arms wrapped around Cleo, Martyn leaned his head back against the headrest. He let his eyelids flutter close before squeezing them shut as a yawn forced his mouth open. He smacked his lips together after the yawn finished, a shiver shooting down his limbs. Martyn hugged Cleo closer to him, using her body for any hint of warmth (there wasn’t much due to her slowed heartbeat and blood circulation) and protection from the wind it would provide. He was out like a submerged torch only a moment later.

[landwriter]

1589 got me feeling&rambling and I'm so sorry beforehand that I can't keep it short and simple, as would probably befit the thing. Feel free to ignore if not interesting to you, still you are the one that comes to mind when thinking about Hob being morally grey.

That scene is always so painful to watch, mostly because Hob is behaving like such a sorry fool. He has really decked himself out to impress his stranger and misses the mark so dramatically.

(Whereas Dream seemingly has not held back either - I mean it's easily his hottest look, you can't tell me he didn't mean to make a lasting impression. So much disappointment on both sides.)

Cringe Hob as part of the dark Hob spectrum, his self-importance/selfishness showing - of course it's not pure fun to watch, but I'm always so fascinated by that flicker of pain (foreshadowing shame) that comes right to the surface in all his put on show, just before he orders the lamb. The contrast makes for a very intense moment, imo. And I am wondering, has he really left all of this behind by 1889? Or is he simply more smooth by that time (that's what I'm getting from the show) ? In fanfics his flaws are mostly depicted as minor or serving a good end in modern times, he is always such a goodie by then (and I love him, of course). But can we imagine just a trace of more questionable/offputting Hob in the mix (if only on impulse) - to be clear, I have no idea how that would work. Or should we just be grateful that that lies behind him (it certainly makes for a much more likeable character and a nicer love story)?

(me force feeding myself more of the horrible stuff I just wanted to avoid looking at)

It's a beautiful contrast: opulence and insecurity. Success and asking still for validation. I have Thoughts on each meeting (please send me asks about them) - ostensibly the very first fannish thing I did for this show, and also in my adult life, was rewatch the meetings and pause constantly and take - oh holy Christ over 4,000 words of notes.

I propose Hob is not acting like a sorry fool. Sure, some bits are clearly played for comedy. Hob is selfish, self-important, and given to hedonism. He is concerned primarily with his own comfort and the personal pleasures of life. But I blame 1589 pretty solidly on Dream. In 1489, after being asked what his experience is like, he answers Dream with an inarticulate statement spoken by a true person who just Digs The Experience of Experiencing: it's 'fucking brilliant' and 'all changing'. Dream asks how, Hob literally looks around the room like a student who forgot an essay was due, and names chimneys and playing cards. Handkerchiefs. Simple things - still sensual things - but simple ones. Certainly no sociopolitical discourse here. What will you people think of next, says Dream, deeply sarcastic and visibly disinterested. And Dream also asks him: but what is Hob doing with his time? This, too, he is under-prepared to answer. Soldiering, banditry, bit of printing press work. Hardly enough to impress this supernatural lord, and Hob can tell.

When he is granted, explicitly, another 100 years by Dream, it is not only a relief, but I think a part of Hob squares its jaw in that moment and says: I'll show him - I'll show him what I can do in a century, I'll earn his pleased regard. Not necessarily because he's even, you know, madly in love at this point, but because he's in it for the living, does not intrinsically have great ambitions, but does have someone who has a) seemingly granted him this greatest gift and b) is unimpressed with what he's doing with it. And he's lost everyone he knew. Dream is now his oldest acquaintance, and wouldn't it be nice if he liked Hob?

He knows only the language of what impresses other men, and this is what he achieves. But to Dream, both Hob's socially-valued successes and his deeply personal ones are terrifically uninteresting. They are not New Dreams To Spur The Minds Of Men. There is no new story in a man seeking fortune and having a wife and a child he loves. He is ancient as the first dreaming thing, and he is Bored. He is, in fact, soured on this meeting from the outset, when he says "Hello, Hob," which on my watch struck me, apparently, as extremely bizarre and of having a real air of Hob being In Trouble. (The only other times Dream says his name are at the first, looming and omniscient, and in 1789, - 'I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling'. He does not say it at their modern meeting.)

I mean - how would you impress someone? Someone who was interested in your deeds? Putting on a nice little dinner and catching them up on your life, talking about your family, seems a decent enough shout. It's not like you can ask him about his life, he won't offer information when asked and only sometimes will correct you if you venture your own guesses. (see also: 1889 foreshadowing) Hob is feeling proud and triumphant, feeling like he's come far. He is obviously a bit obnoxious about it, but I do think Dream shows off his flaws far more in 1589 than Hob does.

Hob's greatest sin, here, is trying to be liked. His greatest regret is almost certainly not the spread he put on, but the moment he was really, truly, earnest - not underscored even by a subsequent joke - the moment he declaims that this is what he had imagined Heaven to be like (safe enough to walk the streets; good food; good wine) - Life is so rich, he says - and Dream looks away to listen to Will Shaxberd, and we watch real time as Hob's expression collapses. He had leaned forward nearly out of his chair in enthusiasm, and now he shrinks back, reminded again of the dangers of earnestness: being alone in it. Being ignored. Better to make a joke of things, which is why he tells so many around Dream, especially after being more open - it's clearly a matter of habit. (It is also, incidentally, absolutely unappealing to Dream, who really and truly looks at him for the first time in 1689, when he is stripped of the social niceties of men and reigns nothing in.) He eats. He frets. He has had another century, and he has failed to impress the stranger.

The worst moment, I think, is that Dream does not renew their compact. He does not ask Hob if he still wishes to live, and Hob does not get the opportunity to say "Oh, yes." He was given this gift for one reason: the stranger was curious about his experiences. Does the stranger seem still curious about him now? I wonder, honestly, if Hob thought he would see another meeting.

Has he really left that all behind by 1889? No - you hear it in his own words, 'People are almost always better than you think they are.' - the earnesty, and then the joke - 'Not me, though, still the same as ever.' Except it's not really a joke, is it? Hob is saying to Dream, I know you don't think much of me, well, I don't pretend to think much of myself. He still wants Dream's validation, of course, he's just trying to earn it differently. (It goes poorly.) He's smoother, but also more frustrated, more fed up, more hungry for knowledge of his stranger; and I think that's such an interesting point in time for him. I think he leaves little behind, and what he does leave behind, he dreams of. He's changed so much and so little, and I think you could really go in whatever direction you want depicting that and be convincing.

I can't speak to the fanon on Hob's flaws because I don't read nearly as much as I wish I could. While I don't personally think 1589 Hob was actually that questionable or offputting - at least no more than most people would be in that situation - I would love to see a modern fic where has the same flaws he's always had, where they come up maybe different than they would have several centuries ago, but they absolutely exist, it does have plot consequences. Bonus points if he is not being offputting for the purposes of rescuing Dream from the fishbowl - if his flaws exist independent of his relationship with Dream altogether. Bonus bonus points if Hob is the one whose character development needs to be developed and Dream is in a better place than he is. If anyone has fic recs feel free to drop them in the comments!

P.S. 1589 Dream, wow, yes, for sure. 10/10 would babble and get walked out on

[yourangel137]

“Beautiful.” A Kazuha X Fem!reader Fanfic

Again one of my proudest possessions, so I want to post it here too for safe keeping <3

Pairings: Kazuha x Fem!reader

Warnings: reader is insecure. Did not proof read

Genres: fluff

Type: drabble

Word count: 835 words

Summary: Reader is insecure about herself, but Kazuha likes her for who she is. + Confession

Everyone would fall for him if they know what kind of person he is. Gentle and kind by nature, poetic with his words and patient with his gestures, he’s the type to treat his loved one like loyalty and you knew that too. It’s just the fact that,, you aren’t confident enough about yourself to fully accept your feelings for him. To you, he deserves better, he deserves someone prettier and someone whose willing to give more than you think you’re able to give. Yet, every time you try to avoid the kind wanderer, he always seems to find his way back to you. Why was that? Why does he care to stay when he deserves better?

Unknowingly to you Kazuha always has his eyes on you and has always seen you as the most beautiful girl he laid his eyes upon. To him, your body is beautiful, your face is gorgeous and your personality is breathtaking. Even if you try to hide your insecurities from him, he knows you’re insecure. He can feel your attitude change around him, your body posture curling and trying to hide your body in some way. It hurts him seeing you so insecure, but he hopes one day you’ll see yourself the same way he sees you.

Your hand trails over the railing from The Crux, feeling the small marks on the wood. You told yourself you wouldn’t go with Beidou and Kazuha on the boat to Inazuma, but in the end you gave in and joined anyways. Maybe because you could never say no to Kazuha his puppy eyes whenever you reject his ideas at first. ‘Dangit.. Why must he be so cute..’ You think to yourself. A breeze touches your exposed neck, goosebumps forming in your delicate skin. Today the breeze seems to be colder than usual and you didn’t fully prepare for colder weather. Before you can think of a possible solution to the sudden cold temperature, a voice calls out to you. “Are you cold, Y/N? It’s colder than usual today.”

The sudden voice you hear from behind you makes you jump a little before turning around to face him. “Ah.. Kazu.. Yeah I guess it’s kind of chilly today. I’ll be okay though~” You answer him, cheeks flaring up a little from embarrassment he caught you thinking to yourself. “Let’s get you inside instead. I know it’s going to rain soon and I also do not want you to catch a cold.” He holds out a hand for you to take, a gentle yet sweet gesture he uses on you so you’d come with him.

It’s hard to reject such an offer so you gently put your hand on top of his and let him lead you away from the deck and to a warmer place instead. Once you two got inside, you watch him let go of your hand and instead grab a blanket and put it around your body. “You should be more prepared next time, the breeze can get cold really fast. Always bring an extra pair of warm clothes with you, dove.”

The sudden nickname makes your heart skip a beat, cheeks flaring up this time from the sudden rush of love you’re feeling for the man before you. “I’m sorry.” You say, but instead of more scolding, you see Kazuha his eyes soften for you. “Why do you think so little of yourself, darling?”

“W-wha-?”

“I know you’re insecure about yourself. I just personally don’t understand why. To me, you’re like a work of art. Your words flow like music out of your mouth, your personality is as warm and bright as the sun, your beauty is as beautiful as the prettiest and brightest of flowers and your whole existence brightens my life more than the sun is even able to do.”

You’re at loss of words, quickly noticing how Kazuha his cheeks turned pink from his sudden confession. ‘Wait.. is this a confession?’ You ask yourself, yet you couldn’t seem to place those words on your tongue and speak them out loud.

“My words might be a lot to take in right now. So I want you to take your time and let this flow in your mind for a bit longer before you answer me back.”

You quickly shake your head and you part your lips to finally speak your mind too. “I like you.” Yet the way those words left your parted lips, ended up louder than you hoped they would. His cheeks flare up more, turning into a more reddish glow, yet his smile is brighter than his blush.

“That was supposed to be my line, dove.” He let’s out the cutest chuckle before speaking once again. “I hope one day I can make you realize how beautiful you truly are. But... Let’s take things slow and steady my sunshine.” Silently you agree with him, nodding along with his words, words you never thought he’d tell you.

He really is too good to be true.

Thank you for reading <3

Much love,

Angel

Made on: 26-03-2023

[toh-tagteam-au]

Tag Team AU Synopsis – Pre-Canon Events

Synopsis Masterpost Link

Next [Covention]

Alright! Let's get started. This is the beginning of a Very Boring Blow-By-Blow Explanation of the whole Tag Team AU.

Luz falls into the water of the Old Gravesfield cemetery at age 7. Her dad had just died a few days prior – noteworthy because she has not read the first Azura book yet. The water is infused with Titan’s blood, and she is shunted to the demon realm. 

Luz finds herself in the woods near the Emperor’s castle during a storm, and she quickly finds out this place is out to get her. She learns to run first and ask questions later, at least until a 9 year-old Hunter discovers her on a mission. The basilisks broke out during the storm, so the coven has all hands on deck hunting them down. 

Luz and Hunter quickly become friends, once Luz realizes he’s not going to eat her skin. Hunter sneaks her food during the next few days until actual coven scouts find her hiding out. They bring her back to the castle, thinking she’s a basilisk in disguise, and she is brought before Emperor Belos. Hunter sees her brought in, and quickly comes to her defense saying that she’s harmless. 

Belos, confronted with a human for the first time in centuries, immediately locks onto how quickly Hunter comes to her aid. Seeing an opportunity to maybe have a successful grimwalker clone of Caleb this time around, he takes Luz in and gives Hunter full responsibility for her, just as Caleb did for Philip. He lies and says he will look for a way to get Luz back home, but until then she has to keep the fact that she is human a secret – who knows what witches will do to her if they find out what she is.

Hunter does not take this well, and his and Luz’s relationship sours quickly as they’re forced to stay together.

It isn’t until Belos tells Luz around the one-year mark that it may be impossible for Luz to get back home, that Hunter and Luz start actually getting along – Hunter realizes how terrible he has been to her, and Luz starts putting down roots. It’s also around this time that Eberwolf meets Luz and gifts her Backup, the gildersnake. (He probably would have been named stringbean if I had written this part post season 3.)

Meanwhile, Vee successfully escapes the Emperor’s Coven on the day Luz arrives and eventually makes her way to Eda the Owl Lady, who takes her in. Eda worries about Vee being in danger in the Boiling Isles, especially with Eda’s not-very-low profile, and she doesn’t get a solution until one of her ventures into the human realm, where she is suddenly held at bat-point by Camila. 

Camila is heartbroken, having lost her husband and her daughter in the span of a week, and she still believes that Luz is still out there. Especially when she sees a strange woman appear in town doing strange things, and disappearing into a houseless door. After tracking her down to the old abandoned shack, she jumps Eda and demands/pleads for help finding her daughter in the witch’s world. Eda agrees to look for Luz, and asks for help with her Vee situation in return. They make a deal: Camila takes Vee in, and Eda comes by every week or so with updates on if she has found Luz + Vee’s magic food.

Back to the siblings: Luz has been raised as a scout alongside Hunter. She rediscovers Azura at age 10 (Hunter age 12), and organizes a small book club with other coven scouts. Through many shenanigans, it turns into a blown out shipping war that splits the coven apart for 3 months. It only ends when Belos publicly chastises Luz, restricts her creative work, and bans Azura from the castle.

(Link to the Azura Incident fanfic can be found here.)

Hunter, realizing the power and creativity that Luz has from this incident, confronts her. He’s been trying to think of a way to use wild magic to heal Belos, and he wants her help. She accepts immediately, because if there’s a way to save a father figure in her life she’s going to try her hardest. She eventually learns her first glyph with Hunter: Light. 

Over the course of the next few years, Luz and Hunter find the rest of the elemental glyphs, they are officially made into the Golden Guards, and they start experimenting with glyph combos. There’s the Iced-Over Conformatorium Incident, where they create the Super Glyph (the one Eda made in Escaping Expulsion) and have to deconstruct it under pressure while it takes over the Conformatorium, and the Smoke-Bomb Incident, where they try to combine different magic items with the smoke combo glyph to see if Belos could inhale their magic essence that way. They don’t get caught either time, but Lilith strongly suspects it’s them.

Hunter also gets his magic staff when he becomes a Golden Guard, although Luz is told she isn’t old enough to wield one yet. This holds up until she turns 14 – the same age Hunter was when he got his staff – and she is still told that she can’t have one. 

This is where the comic starts. You guys know this to a degree already. Luz and Hunter make a deal with Eda to learn wild magic. Hunter takes Luz’s place in canon, etc etc. Everything up until the end of Teenage Abomination was written in comic form which is WAY COOLER THAN THIS. IF YOU DONT KNOW WHATS GOING ON READ THE COMIC RIGHT NOW. HERE'S THE FIRST PART.

Next [Covention]

Synopsis Masterpost Link

[theflashdriver]

Birthday-versary (A Sonic 06 Anniversary Fanfic)

Despite outside appearances, Sonic didn't really consider himself the partying sort. Sure, whenever a party happened he'd show up for a while, but the blue blur would never linger long. He'd grab some grub, share some laughs, and then speed off before things could get stale. Sometimes that meant hanging around for five minutes, sometimes he'd last up to an hour, but rarely if ever would the hedgehog linger till the end of such an event. Perhaps that was why no one ever invited him to help set up a party. Well, he'd hadn't been until today.

Sonic the hedgehog was stood looking out at the sea, his foot tapping against a varnished wooden deck and stomach only slightly churning. His fear of water was usually quelled by the security of a vehicle, frequent flights in the Tornado had more than proven that to him, but there was something different in the air today. It wasn't that the boat he stood upon was constructed by Marine the Raccoon, he'd rode her vessels before too. They hadn't even left port yet; the anchor was buried in the depths and the ship was bound to the dock. The waves weren't even splashing high! No, this present discomfort was something else.

Well, he had already spent his social quota and partying at sea meant no escpae, Maybe things were that-

"Need some help Sonic?" A familiar voice asked, arriving to lean against the taffrail beside him, "Looks like you're working way too hard."

"Hey Ames, how's it going?" He worked up a smirk, turning to her, "Is that all the baking done?"

"Just iced the last layer of the cake, but the host insisted on preparing a couple of things by her lonesome and sent me off on an investigation," She relayed, a smug look claiming her muzzle, "We couldn't help noticing the tables haven't been set."

"Oh, really?" Sonic feigned ignorance, leaning back against the ship's wooden railing.

"Yes," Amy hummed, "It seems someone went to the effort of getting the tables tables and chairs from the palace, tossed a table cloth over each, and then just dumped all the cutlery and placemats on top before calling it a day. They didn't even get the glasses from below deck."

"I wonder who did that," The blue hedgehog had to look away.

"I have my suspicions," He felt Amy push in closer.

"I guess we'll never know..." He half sang, a hand in his quills.

Sonic felt a hand on his chest, both pinning him in place and pulling his gaze back to her. The pink hedgehog still had an apron on, worn over her red dress, that instructed him to kiss the cook in writing that was overly speckled with hearts. She'd pulled her quills back into a ponytail for the work, but just one quill had slipped astray of her scrunchie. An icing smudge marked her left cheek, on that same side. She was leaning in much too close, now walking her fingers up to his shoulder; a game had begun.

"I could see myself to finishing that work, taking on that important task abandoned by a certain somebody..." Her fingers stopped just before the left side of his collarbone, "But I'd want them to do something for me in exchange."

"Oh? "In that moment, Sonic saw his opportunity, "And just what would you want that hypothetical person to do?"

Before she could answer, Sonic reached to cup the pink girl's cheek. With a brush of his thumb the icing mark was removed, their eyes locked and he caught the sparkle in her emerald eyes. He ever so deftly reached with his index and middle fingers to push back that stray quill, looping it into taut green ribbon at the back of her head.

"Marry me?" She breathlessly asked.

Seizing her moment of surprise, the blue blur slipped out from the pink hedgehog's grasp to spin around and position her against the boat's edge with his hand now shifted to her shoulder, "That's a real steep price for forgetting some placemats, I don't think I can make that deal Amy."

"Oh, so now you're admitting to shirking your duties," She rolled her eyes.

"Well yeah," He smirked wider, "I'm winning."

"Of course you are," She smothered a laugh, her gaze dropping, "You're entirely at ease."

"What's that supposed to mean? I totally am," He leaned in further, managing to relock their eye contact.

"You've totally not been hiding over here, dodging the work you promised would be no sweat, because you're overthinking spending some time at sea," That truth was followed by another, "That and, well, the energy on deck is admittedly a little tense. Doesn't seem like your scene, at least at the moment."

Ah, perhaps that was the real reason he'd retreated to the bow of the ship. The vibes on the ship had been positively electric at first, but tension had travelled like chain lightning from one person to another. Today's host was the original source of that shift, no number of passing jokes had seemed able to quell the anxiety plainly bubbling within her. That much was to be expected from most party hosts, but the guardian of the Sol Emeralds seemed rather new to this particular duty. An overthinking Blaze on a very wooden boat was an undeniably dangerous combination.

"You're not wrong," He confessed, though put on his strongest smirk yet, "But, I mean, between us, I am winning right now."

"I don't know about that either. I'm exactly where I want to be," Now her eyes were sparkling again, "And you're exactly where I'd want you."

The wind fully dropped from his sails as his hand left her shoulder. When it came to Amy, even winning meant he'd lose, just a little. Sonic swivelled around to lean beside her again.

"Alright Ames, let's cut to the chase," Maybe he had won now, she looked annoyed that he'd left that position, "What's happened and what do you actually want me to do?"

"I might have tried to calm Blaze down, only to end up making things worse," She admitted through gritted teeth, "She really wants Silver's surprise party to go well..."

Ah yes, the reason they were all here, Silver's birthday. Invitations from Blaze had arrived atop the Master Emerald a little more than a week ago, along with requests for specific aid from some individuals. Knuckles and Tails had seen to delivering Blaze's writs and everyone from Vector to Big had agreed to attend and offer their aid in setting up a surprise party of the psychic. A boat based shindig with music, fireworks, and food.

"I've got to be honest, he doesn't seem the type to care all that much for parties in general. I'm kind of shocked she even thought to do this, neither of them are the partying sort," Sonic recalled aloud, "Ninety percent of the time they're all duty and justice and hard working. It's only the ten percent of the time that we see them around each other that I'd say they're anything close to social."

"That was my thought too, I tried to get her to sit down for a while and relax, leave this to us," Her gritted teeth turned into a full blown grimace, "That went..."

"Poorly?" Sonic suggested.

"Poorly," She confirmed, "When I made that suggestion, she insisted that she bake some things by herself..."

Realisation struck the speedster, "Didn't she specifically write that she wanted your help baking? Because she can't-

"Yes," Amy cut him off, "So, actually, we should probably hurry and sort this out before things can get any worse."

"Alright, what's the plan," Sonic asked, finally starting to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

"Well first I'm going to drag you back onto the deck to finish setting the tables, I'm going to help you with that," Miss Rose first insisted, "When you see an opportunity, I want you to slip over and talk to Blaze. Try to get her to calm down and take a proper break from giving orders?"

"Woah, Ames," Sonic raised his hands, "What makes you think I can talk her out of this? I peeled off for a reason."

"You've helped her before Sonic, you're better suited to this than you think," Amy sweetly nudged him.

"Helping her work with others to save the world is one thing, I just went with the flow and trusted my instincts on that," The blur professed, "Helping her get less anxious about party planning? Wouldn't you be better at that? I've never planned-

"I might have also, sort of, been teasing her about Silver while we were working together," Amy cut him off to sheepishly admit, "I really don't think I can be the one to do this now..."

"What do you mean teased her about Silver?" The speedster tilted his head.

"Sonic," Her tone was chiding, "Are you really that oblivious? Why do you think she's going all out like this?"

The blue blur blinked, racking his brain for an answer, "Because-

"What do you mean he's on his way to the palace? If he makes it, he'll realise I'm not there!"A shout, plainly not befitting of a princess, caught the pair of hedgehogs' ears, "We need more time!"

"Alright, I'll give it a shot, regardless of the reason," Sonic cringed, pushing to make his way back to the deck, "Just don't blame me if things end up even worse."

The deck was already in a partying state, even if the vibe didn't match it. It was as if Blaze was commanding a deck of sailors battling pirates at sea, rather than a group of friends setting up decorations. Tails was toward hull of the ship, currently entangled by a mess of wires while attempting to program a fireworks display. Knuckles was carrying goods from shore, ranging from more boxes of fireworks to fruit and lighting for the coming evening. Espio, aided by Charmy, was scaling the outer edge of the boat to hang banners and other party fixtures. Vector was handling communications, relaying secret messages from Marine. As a result, the crocodile was receiving most of the cat's current ire.

Blaze was positioned near the centre of the deck, behind a pop-up oven that Marine had purportedly made specifically for the event. The cat's hands were bristling with embers as she loomed over the device. Her sharp eyes gouged Sonic, so he quickly busied himself- doing as he'd promised. This was going to be tough.

"Apparently fishing her scuttled ship from the ocean was a lot easier than she thought," Vector barked back, "It's already back on the west dock, good as new."

"Tell her to drag her feet and kick up a fuss, to slow him in town as much as possible," Blaze responded immediately, not giving the reptile a moment to breathe.

"She says she'll do her best, but she doesn't seem confident," The crocodile awkwardly responded, "Look, Blaze, maybe-

"We need to speed things up!" The cat cut him off, "Tails, are the fireworks ready?"

"Almost!" He called from the back, "They'll be ready well before sunset."

"Get them finished as quickly as possible, I need you to help Big set up the music," The smaller cat insisted.

Big himself was wandering around with a massive set of speakers in his gloved mitts, thoroughly lost but also plainly unaware of the tension on the ship. Sonic managed to clear his way across the deck, setting glasses and placemats and more as he went. He could have been going faster, of course he could have, but the hedgehog had no idea what he was going to say. Regardless, he'd began to slip into position.

"Cream," The cat called out, "How is the paper-craft going, are you almost done?"

The blue blur tossed down a few placemats, roughly in the right places, still moving down the deck.

"I've ran out of ideas Miss Blaze," The rabbit almost sobbed, "I can't think of any more decorations, I've cut out so many Chao faces..."

"Just do your best, don't worry about making replicates at this point. Timing is what matters most," Though her words were kinder, panic still undercut the cat's words.

Sonic flattened a bunched section of tablecloth, still making his way around, trying his hardest to be subtle.

"Knuckles, how much is still piled at the dock?" The cat asked, her attention turned.

"Just the presents, everything else is set," He answered, setting a massive box down, "Can I take a breather?

Sonic found himself at the head of a table, he started to pull cutlery from a box and mindlessly spread it out. Only a few more steps and he'd be right in front of the purple feline.

"After the presents are on board, he'll know what's about to happen if he sees them," Blaze instructed, giving the echidna no quarter.

The cat continued to check in and give orders, going from person to person. Though she was never overly harsh with anyone, Sonic could see a pressure mounting beneath the surface. If he didn't step in, catastrophe would eventually come. Was party planning supposed to be so intense? No wonder he'd dodged it for all these years.

"Hey, Blaze," Sonic slid in front of her, positioning himself to spare anyone else her interrogation.

"What's going wrong now?" The cat grumbled, lit daggers in her eyes.

"Whoa, nothing is, I promise," Sonic took a half step back, hands up, "Just saying sorry for vanishing, had to get my party face on," His right hand slipped back to scratch at his quills, "Maybe you should take the time to do the same? You've been going all out since-

"That's because I need to keep on top of things, to ensure this is perfect," The feline bent down to the rickety oven, "The table needs set, these cupcakes will be-

The cat opened the oven door. Smoke immediately obscured the princess' entire form, flaring up to darken the sky. There was a single beat of silence, the deck seemed to freeze despite the sudden skyrocketing of temperature. From within the dark void a hint of red quickly expanded, soon the grey of smoke was thoroughly mixed with sparks of flame.

Sonic thought fast, dashing back to a table Amy had been setting. A pitcher of water was snatched up in one moment and just as quickly thrown. A splash resounded over the silenced deck; the flickering flames within the smokestack were snuffed and but moments later the grey clouds themselves fully vanished.

The revealed feline was thankfully dry, her conjured flames looked to absorbed the majority of the water, but she looked as regretful as a soaked kitten. Wide amber eyes looked out over the deck, lingering on those who were helping her. Sonic couldn't help but cringe, the cat was surely meeting bewildered and concerned stares that she'd loathe to feel bearing down on her. He had to act, go with the flow.

"Come on Blaze, let's go for a walk and get some air," He tried to shoot the feline a grin, though quickly turned to the pink hedgehog by his side, "Ames, you can pick up the baking in the meantime, right?"

"On it," Amy was keeping up her bubbly tone, "Everything will be ready for Silver arriving, I promise!"

By the time he'd turned back to Blaze, the cat was already stepping down the gangplank and off of the ship. He followed behind, giving her just a bit of space so as to both let her breathe and give himself a moment to figure out what to do next. In situations like this, going with the flow could only get him so far...

The sturdier grounding of the dock was a welcome change from that of the ship. A good five metres separating them, the pair paced past a gathered pile of gifts wrapped in various coloured papers. When the gang had first arrived the dock had been fully stocked with things to move and set up, now it was almost empty. Just those gifts-

"I know I'm being foolish, but I must look completely mindless," Sonic heard the cat grumble before turning to look back, "I'm sorry I didn't accept your suggestion immediately, leaving immediately would have been for the better..."

"Hey, it's no big deal," Sonic shrugged, "No one got hurt, don't think you left a scratch on the deck."

Realisation seemed to strike the cat, "I didn't check, I need to go back there. Getting the wood replaced will take-

"Whoa, whoa, Blaze," Sonic put his hands out, halting the cat as she turned. "Remember why you left the boat, take a moment, have a breather."

The cat did hesitate, he could tell she was anxious to return to the ship but beyond that the cat's thoughts were completely lost on him. Sonic usually prided himself on being good at reading the room, but when it came to the likes of Blaze or even Shadow only the most extreme of feelings were plain to him. For the feline, that usually meant noticing long built frustration mere moments before it was primed to detonate.

"This whole party thing really has you wound up," Sonic pointed out the obvious, stalling, "Gotta be honest, it seems pretty minor compared to your usual work. There's something else going on, right?"

"No, there's nothing else going on. It's just this party," Blaze refuted before biting her lip, "Although, I don't think I've explained the full context of it," Her fists balled, "This is Silver's first birthday."

"What? How's that possible?" Sonic blinked, "Has there been some sort of time travel mistake? Has he been turned into-

"No, it's simpler than that," Blaze shook her head, "Not simpler. More foolish. Naive."

"I mean, simple things can still cause stress," Sonic quickly responded, still befuddled, "If you wanna explain, I'm all ears."

"I probably should, just to... so that I don't seem quite so pointlessly terse," The cat unclenched her fist, taking a deep breath, "Silver doesn't know his true birthdate, he never has. Growing up in a long destroyed world, what mattered to him were seasons rather than specific days or months. The cold of winter and warm of Summer were far more important to him than any given day. Regardless, there was no one to maintain any sort of calender."

"Right, that makes sense," Sonic thought aloud, putting two and two together, "So there must be some reason we're doing this today of all days? Like, if the date wasn't an issue we could just push it back and avoid all this stress."

"He picked a birthdate for himself, he picked it in a suitably foolish and naive way," The guardian responded, "After my own birthday, I thought to ask him about his only to find out the truth. When I suggested picking a day he..." Sonic swore he could feel her temperature from these metres away, "He picked the day we'd met again, the day we'd reunited."

"Oh wow, that's pretty intense," The blue blur blinked.

"It wasn't for him, he just suggested it off the cuff, so stupidly casually," Blaze recalled, looking to the ocean, "His exact logic was that good things are meant to happen to people on their birthday. Since that was, in his words, the best thing that ever happened to him... he decided that day must have been his birthday."

"I mean... there's a sort of logic there," Sonic concluded, not really following the psychic's train of thought but going along with it, "But the stress you're feeling makes a lot more sense now, of course you're worried about today going well..." Sonic scratched his ear, "It's like it's you guys anniversary or something."

"Don't be so blunt!" Burning eyes returned to Sonic for but a moment before tumbling to the dock, "But.. yes, and with today being his first... it's a lot and it has been weighing on me, even prior to today," Her fists clenched as she took a step toward the boat, "I need to get back to work."

"No," Sonic raised his hands to halt her, again just going with the flow, "Don't sweat it, I'll handle the set up from here."

"You can't be serious," Exhaustion was plain in the princess' voice.

"Hey, when am I anything but serious?" His joke didn't land so he tried another angle, "But, I mean, look at it this way, why did he pick today? You said it yourself."

"Because it's the day we reunited?" Blaze bluntly replied.

"Because reuniting with you was the best moment of his life, the best day," Sonic reinforced, "I think he'd rather be with you today than spend so much time apart. Think about it, he'd get onto the boat only to be swarmed by other people when you're finally together again. He'll barely get to spend any time with you," The hedgehog hypothesised, "Does that sound right?"

That took the cat a moment to process, "It does, but I-

"And if you're really so worried about the party, think about it this way," She was surely frustrated at being cut off, but he had to make sure she understood, "You were worried about him arriving early; now you can make certain he doesn't. Just leave it to us, we'll let you know when everything's ready."

"I..." Words seemed to fail her for a moment, "No, you're right," And then for a moment longer, "Silver isn't even expecting some party, he just thinks I'm busy with work today. I can arrive and he won't suspect a thing," Relief began to buzz through Sonic's head, "That and... you're right, he'd probably rather spend today with me than being led around by Marine."

"Go to him and spend some time, get here when you get here. Don't rush or keep him away," Sonic advised, "Just kick back for a while, you've earned it."

The cat looked as if she was going to fight him again, but that expression faded into contemplation, "Alright, I'll just, um," She did walk past him, toward the ship, but stopped at the pile of presents to collect a long box wrapped in blue paper, "Right, yes, he's on his way to the palace. I can beat him there if I hurry."

The guardian began to race across the dock, no longer hesitantly pacing as she had before. As if it was a cape tossed from her shoulders, the apron that had covered her front was thrown from her form to land on the flat wooden floor. It was only as she reached the land that Sonic thought to say some final words.

"Blaze!" He called to the cat, cupping his mouth.

The feline stopped in her tracks and turned back.

"Don't forget to have fun, that's the whole point!" He shot her a thumbs up, "And we both know that's what he'd want, more than anything else!"

The cat didn't return his gesture, instead giving just one last nod before hurrying off with that gift under her arm. Sonic wiped the sweat from his brown, a wave of relief washed through his form as he crossed his hands behind his head and turned back to the ship. He made it around three paces before realising someone was staring down at him from the top of the gangplank.

"You know you've just promised to take her place, right?" A familiar voice called from the ship, "Now all of this is your responsibility," Now close enough, he could see Amy's taunting smirk, "No more slacking off."

Sonic's struggled to keep up his smirk, beginning to rise the gangplank, "Well, no good deed goes unpunished."

He had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew he'd done a little bit of good. That had to count for something, right?

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Helloooo!! I was wondering if you had any fanfic recommendations where John and Sherlock have to pretend they’re a couple for a case, and have to share a hotel room or something…?

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, I have JUST enough of my personal recs to do a list, and because I am behind on older lists I'm prepping, we're posting it! Going to add the MFLs I also tag-searched to this list as well, so we have a nice full list to post today!

As always, if anyone has a fic they want to add, please do!

Enjoy!

FAKE RELATIONSHIP / COUPLE FOR A CASE Pt. 7

See also:

For a Case Trope

Fake Relationship / For a Case Part 2

For a Case Pt 3

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 4

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 5

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 6

Married For a Case / Fake Husbands

Johnlock on Holidays for a Case

Ambiguous Relationships

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all. 

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

You Might Just as Well Be Blind by ArwaMachine (E, 56,625 w., 12 Ch. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Bed Sharing, Platonic Cuddling, Jealous Sherlock, Oblivious John, BAMF Hudders, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Case Fic, Flirting, Pining John, POV John, Toplock, Possessive Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Infidelity) – When a serial killer starts targeting couples, Sherlock and John must do what they have to do in order to get to the bottom of things. Unfortunately, John already has a girlfriend. Surely pretending to be in a relationship with Sherlock won't pose any problems with his relationship, will it?

MARKED FOR LATER / TO READ

What Every Step Is For by Anyawen (G, 2,921 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Bedsharing, Injury, Illness, Cold, Lack of Beds, Fake Relationship, Fluff) – Five times bedsharing occurred due to circumstance, and one time it happened by invitation.

A Contest of Wills by JanecShannon (T, 3,155 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Turner’s Married Ones, Cuddling and Snuggling, Sexual Humour) – Mrs. Turner's married ones decided to renew thier vows. The problem? John shares a wall with their bedroom and they are being very... enthusiastic... about the reawakening of thier passion. Sherlock decides to give them a taste of thier own medicine.

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.”

Just to Make Sure by addicted2hugh (E, 12,343 w., 1 Ch. || TBB Canon Divergence, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Pining Idiots, First Kiss/Time, POV John, Secrets, Fluff and Smut) – What if John hadn't given up dreaming so easily after Sherlock announced himself married to his work? What if he had admitted to himself that he's into him? And what if, when Sebastian Wilkes bullied Sherlock in front of him, he had stood up for his friend instead of letting him down? Part 1 of Just to Make Sure

Life's Uneven Kilter by theslovenlyfool (T, 14,877 w., 4 Ch. || Canon Divergence S3, BAMF John, Secretly Married, Camp Gay Sherlock, Dancing, John is a Good Actor, Fake Relationship, Mycroft Plays a Role) – "According to Sherlock, the game began on September 21, 2005 at precisely 10:37:04 am. John complained that, with that logic, the game had actually begun on January 7, 2000, at around 1:30 am. But for Sherlock, games are only fun when others are willing to play. What is a game without an adversary, after all? And what is a proper dash across London without a partner? Now, Sherlock thought as he assessed the doctor with the unforgivable cane, the game is on."

Open your eyes by softlock (NR, 16,032 w., 14 Ch. || Post-TRF / Pre-TSo3, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Bed Sharing, Homophobic Language, Anatomy, Medical Procedures, POV John, Slow Burn, Past Rape/Non-Con, Past Torture, Scars, First Kiss, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock enter a fake relationship for a case. Will these idiots realize they don't need to act anymore?

Of Dinner and Desires by IneffableHusbands95 & KittieHill (E, 16,663 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Established Mystrade, Powerful Mycroft, Bisexual John, Gay Sherlock, Sexual Tension, Drama, Jealous Sherlock, Confused John, Sad Wanking, Masturbation, Banter, Big Brother Mycroft, Possessive Sherlock, Anal Sex, Virgin Sherlock, PWP, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Marriage Proposal) – Mycroft bared his teeth and glared before softening. “Surprisingly, I do have better things to do than watch you drink yourself into a self-pitying stupor.” He looked like he might get up and walk out, but he inhaled, fixed his collar and then ordered a gin and tonic from the bar staff who looked at the strange man but scurried off to fix his drink immediately. “We need to discuss your attraction to my brother.”

House of Light by AlgySwinburne (E, 17,149 w., 3 Ch. || Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Holmes Family, POV Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Past Viclock, Implied / Referenced Homophobia, No Rosie) – For god’s sake,” Sherlock blusters, “John and I are--” “Happy. So very happy,” John cuts in loudly. He gives Sherlock a resounding slap on the back, jerking Sherlock forward. “In fact, we couldn’t be happier, did I already say that? The two of us. Sherlock and I, that is. Because we’re together--in a relationship--as you so astutely noticed before we could break the news. So. Yes. Thank you, Mrs Holmes.”

Couples Retreat by Madam_Fandom (E, 18,717 w., 10 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Undercover Couple, Case Fic, Angst, Kidnapping, Fake Marriage, Cross Dressing) – Couples are turning up missing at a very high class couples retreat; and the only way to get to the bottom of it is for John and Sherlock to go under cover as a couple. 

The One Where Sherlock Doesn’t Ruin John’s Holiday by nutmeag83 (T, 18,898 w., 11 Ch. || Pre-TRF / S2 Timeline, Friends to Lovers, Cruise Ships, Vacation / Holidays, Fake Relationship, For Science, Bed Sharing, Cuddling/Snuggling, Mutual Pining, John POV, Minor Case Fic, Cooking, Dancing, Drunk Shenanigans) – John wins a cruise vacation for two and brings Sherlock along. But when it turns out to be a couples cruise, they have to pretend to be a couple themselves (for science). How many pretend kisses will it take before they can’t deny their feelings any longer?

Mistletoe and Misdemeanours by Robottko (T, 20,738 w., 12 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || Christmas, Fake Relationship, Coffee Shops, Victor Trevor, First Kiss, Holmes Family, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Drama, Kidnapping) – When Victor Trevor backs out of the Holmes family Christmas at the last minute, Sherlock panics because he has no way to impress his parents. Thankfully there is a handsome army doctor with nowhere to go in his coffee shop, though it would be more helpful if he were a bit more willing.

I Feel Like I Don't Even Know Him! by MutedSilence (NR, 26,108 w., 25 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Fake Relationship, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Couple’s Counselling, Paternal Greg, Protective Mycroft, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, For a Case) – John is leaving therapy Sherlock needs to get into the office of a couples counsellor. A frantic Sherlock bumps into John as he's making his way out. John - with nothing better to do - agrees to pretend to be a stranger's boyfriend for the afternoon. Beats going home.

Mountebank by Odamaki (M, 26,514 w., 2 Ch. || Fake Relationship/Dating/Marriage, For A Case, Jealous John, Suits, House Party, Crack, Trapped, UST, Dancing, Idiots in Love, Confessions, Friends to Lovers) – “I am calm,” John snaps, leaning on the door to glare out at the dark streets around them. Sherlock’s not said where they’re going; all he knows is they came off the ring road to the west of London and have vanished somewhere into the depths of Berkshire. All he knows is that he’s been trussed up in a suit that wasn’t hired from anywhere and if brought new would edge up into the triple figure margins. “Be calmer,” Sherlock advises, with a trace of irony. “We’re going to a party.” Part 29 of the The Sherlexicon

Ten Years by toyhto (M, 28,610 w., 5 Ch. || Post S4/TFP, Fake Relationship, UST, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Parentlock) – A friend tells Rosie Watson that her parents aren't together for real, because they don't kiss. But we do, John says.

L'amour Toujours by stopthat (M, 31,408 w., 26 Ch. || Post-TRF, Fake Relationship for a Case, Sherlock POV, Angst and Feels, Pining, Codependency, John is a Mess, Hurt/Comfort, No Mary, Declarations of Love, Church/Religion, Homophobia/Hate Crimes, Internalized Homophobia, Summer Camp, Awkward Conversations, Misunderstanding, Hand Holding, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Therapy/Talking) – There's a wolf amongst the sheep at Wisteria Lutheran Church. Sherlock and John must go undercover—as two men in love—to find out who has been mercilessly executing the church's queer community. As with everything else involving John Watson, it's not nearly as straightforward as Sherlock had hoped it would be. [TRANSLATION: Français]

The Case of the Dancing Cameras by Kr_Nl (E, 54,091+ w., 10/11 Ch. || WiP || Post S4, Dancing Men Adaptation, Case Fic, Angst, Slow Burn, Massage, UST/URT, Homoerotic Literature, Angst, Slow Burn, Fake Relationship, Scars, Humping, Masturbation, Flirting, Almost Kiss, Pining Sherlock) – The case in which John gets to be a massage therapist for a case and Sherlock gets to be massaged against his will (not really). Taking liberties with The Adventure of the Dancing Men of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or the case in which John discovers Sherlock turns himself on with homoerotic literature.

The Burning of Carnation Petals by HOverSeas (T, 61,066 w., 19 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Fake Relationship, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Sherlock / Victor, Unaddressed Trauma, Weddings, Funerals, Flowers, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – John is a crematorium technician and he has a lot of relationship issues. Sherlock is a florist and mostly has one relationship issue. They are friends, but will have to pose as boyfriends as a way of avoiding the problem they are trying to solve.

The Assistant by delightful_fear (M, 65,247 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Fake Relationship, London, New York, Slow Burn, Los Angeles) – Back from Afghanistan, John is not doing well. He takes the job of the live-in assistant to a famous author, Sherlock Holmes, while he writes his latest book. He can handle six months with a moody author while he figures out what the next chapter of his life will be, can't he?

Roommates are for little people by alexxphoenix42 (E, 69,042 w., 14 Ch. || Teen/Unilock || Forced to Share a Bed, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Relationship, Sherlock is a Prick, Drinking, Inadvertent Drug Use, Family Wedding, Footballer John / Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Frottage, Slow Burn, Mild Dub Con, Cuddling While Sleeping, Slight Homophobia, Posh Boy, Dirty Dancing, Endearments, Nosy FAmily, Bathing Together, Mild Angst, UST/RST, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff) – John was looking forward to seeing his friends back at uni, but a new year brings new complications, not the least of which is a dorm room with only one bed, and a stroppy roommate with an utterly spectacular arse. God, John doesn't need the headache.

[whatislovevavy]

I. Piña Coladas and NATOPS

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x afab!pilot!reader

Summary: Mustang and Hangman have had sexual tension since the night they met at the Hard Deck at the start of a high-risk assignment. Each interaction further solidifies your callsign in the best ways. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: 

First part: Sexual tension, smitten and sexually frustrated Hangman, swearing, initially shy reader

Future parts: Sexual tension, swearing, smitten and sexually frustrated Hangman, swearing, and mildly insecure and shy reader, smut; p in v, oral (fem + male) receiving, dirty talk, dom!Jake, hint of sub!Jake

Author’s note: This is the first real fanfiction piece I’ve published. Frankly, I’m not even surprised it's essentially build up for Hangman porn, I’m such a whore for that man it’s not even funny. Also, I’m a proud horse girl so there are some horse things dribbled into the plot. There will be multiple parts because it got hella long as just one fic, so let me know if any of y’all would be interested in reading more parts of this. I did my best to make Mustang’s physical attributes as ambiguous as possible when it came to descriptions to make it more inclusive to the reader. I want to get better at this so please feel free to leave constructive criticism or something you thought was strong or weak with the piece. Please be kind with criticisms. I'm sensitive. I’d like to thank @call-sign-jinx and @sebsxphia for betaing (?) each part of this fic, they’re both really sweet and write some good shit on their blogs, so be sure to check them out. 

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook​ 

These characters, except for Mustang, are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

Happy reading :)

____

Play a few rounds of pool and darts with his teammates. Throw back a few beers. Find a beautiful woman to warm his bed before his assignment started. That was his ideal night and usually what he wanted, he got.

That was his only plan tonight and he intended to savor every minute checking off each box. He already had the first two accomplished.

A sweet smile and bright eyes paired with a honey-like voice pulled you from his periphery to the center of his attention. Your dress flared around your waist like falling blossom petals and left just enough to the imagination. It was cute and flirty; it sparked something deep in him as he let his eyes unashamedly wander the fabric marked by pink, purple and blue hues. You screamed new, he would definitely have remembered you if you had stepped foot in the navy bar before; you’d be an awfully pretty notch in his bedpost, he thought to himself.

 Your quiet and reserved presence made you blend in within the cacophonous Friday night of the Hard Deck. Well, except for him. It was comical watching you try to place your order, struggling to speak up above everyone else at the bar top. Evidently, more of a wallflower, settling near the pool tables and jukebox, nursing a Piña Colada. He caught you observing his pool game with earnestness. Your unique choice of drink, considering that most ordered beers, whiskey neats, and rum and cokes, drew him in. You made eye contact with him at his place at the pool table as he was lining up his winning shot, sending a smirk with a wink as he sank it in with a resounding clank. Every pore in his body seeped charisma and confidence, your eyes darted away, studying your drink as a blush dusted your cheeks. 

"Better luck next time, Harvard", Jake said smirking with an extended hand, keeping his eyes on where you were leaning against the wall, now close enough to see the hydrangea flowers gracing your dress that reminded him of his mother’s garden back home in Texas. A begrudged Harvard placed a 20 in his palm, cursing to himself. He was about to request a rematch, but Jake was already swaggering his way to your spot near the jukebox.

Harvard, Halo, Payback, Fanboy, and Coyote watched on with amusement; Jake had a reputation and it was always a source of entertainment for his fellow aviators when he crashed and burned. Bets were thrown around as he made his way to you. 

You looked up from your drink and met his gorgeous ever-green forest eyes, panty-dropper smile, and frame that towered over your own. The typically unflattering, standard beige uniform only added to his sex appeal. The material clung to his thick thighs, broad shoulders, and toned biceps deliciously. You resisted your thighs clenching together at the sight of him. A small part of you wanted to caress the balloon of his ego, before popping it with a needle, but a bigger part wanted to succumb to him. 

You knew that he was only looking for someone to warm his bed and that this wasn't his first time trying. You didn’t know how to handle this. Sure, you had been hit on in bars and bases before, but this felt different. He was exponentially sexier. Feeling your nerves skyrocket, you would be lucky if you could get a sentence out. Besides, you weren't a hook-up kinda person and he was obviously a cum-and-go kind of man, a being omnipotent in the ways of the man-whore.

"Well, what is a gorgeous woman like yourself doing all alone?" A smooth southern drawl caressing your ears, demanding your attention to his. 

You looked at him with a shy gleam in your eye and a blush dusting your cheeks, admiring his eyes, perfect hair, and sharp jawline. "Just enjoying a drink at a new place... and your pool game", you spoke softly, giving him a shy smile, feeling the material of your dress with your free hand and a blush blooming on your cheeks. Sensing more eyes weighing on you, you quickly diverted your attention to his spying teammates. All quickly focused their attention away from the two as you met Jake's eyes once again.

"Well, I’m glad I had the privilege to entertain you,” he winked, “you got quite the drink there,” playfully gesturing to the contents in your glass.

"I guess I kind of stick out like a sore thumb huh?", ending with a nervous chuckle, feeling the heat rise to your face, focusing your attention on the pale yellow, nerve-numbing elixir for what felt like the 20th time this evening.

God, why'd you have to get like this? 

It only happened when interacting with people and thankfully not when you were handling a multi-million-dollar F-18 Super Hornet at 8,000 feet or handling a wild mustang in a round pen back on your family's homestead. It was just something you couldn't shake and had always struggled with. 

Despite this, you were an outgoing and competitive person, but it only showed in certain cases.

His mischievous smirk widened; you were cute. He'd give you that. You’d be perfect moaning his name under him.

"Do you have a name? Something I can call you by, Darlin'?"

You took a sip, "Mustang".

He admired your alcohol-glazed lips and thought about how your lips would taste, complemented by the sweet flavors of coconut and pineapple with the infusion of spiced rum. 

"Mustang", he tried out a suggestive smile adorning his face. His seductive, smooth voice tinged with his southern drawl made your heart flutter a little. “Well, that's a name you don't hear very often. Your mom work with wild horses or somethin’?``His voice tinged with humor, leaning his elbow on the jukebox as he punched in a few numbers.

The early beats of a rock song resonating in the packed bar. 

“It's not- It’s my call sign. I grew up on a mustang rescue, working with them and it stuck at the Naval Academy and Top Gun." 

Top Gun? He looked a bit taken aback. You didn't really fit the type given how shy you appeared. What are the chances you were on the mission with him? He kept that to himself for the time being.

“You seem surprised to hear that”, you asked with a touch of humor, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, preparing to deal with the ever-present sexism of your job.

“No offense, just not used to seeing accomplished pilots being shy and sporting beautiful sundresses. Don’t get me wrong it’s an appreciated surprise.”

A self-assured smirk graced his carefree features paired with appreciative eyes roaming your exposed collarbones and a tasteful glimpse of your cleavage. 

You let out a small laugh, facing your cup and turning back up to gaze into his spring grass green eyes. It was addicting having this effect, appearing one thing but being an entirely different animal underneath. “Well, what can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

"Well, I certainly don't mind that", Jake said with his sly smile as he inched closer to your side of the jukebox. If Jake Seresin had to have a weakness, it was sundresses and women who surprised him. 

You felt yourself heat up, taking a drink to calm your nerves, trying to salvage your dignity.

"What about you, have a name? Callsign? Something I can call you by, Darlin'?" You asked, comically mimicking his drawl, testing the waters, feeling the rum easing your nerves. He was broken from his thoughts and felt a smile grow on his face.

"You're funny, sweetheart. Name's Hangman but you can call me Jake for later activities… If that’s what you prefer". His tone is low and sultry, leaning his body onto his strategically placed hand by your head with the same gorgeous smile and playful eyes.

 Your eyes diverted from his and skimmed his nametag and badges at eye level; Lieutenant Seresin.  

If he hadn't piqued your interest and set your nerves alight, the bare innuendo would have made you balk and slap his perfect face. But he’d probably enjoy that. 

Jake waited with slightly raised eyebrows and awaiting eyes for your response, enjoying your flustered state. He could smell the soft lavender shampoo from where he stood. You could smell his cologne; a distinct soothing aroma of cedar wood, ginger, cloves, and bergamot. You resisted letting his scent and close proximity make you feel warm inside.

"That's fairly bold of you to assume that there will be later activities”. A hushed voice paired with a playful gleam flashed in your eyes.

"Well, what can I say? I got my favorite song playing and I'm a hopeful man, especially with that beautiful number on", as he skimmed you up and down appreciatively, eyes landing on your soft breasts, kissable lips, and your clothed hips he wanted to squeeze as he grazed your cheek with his smooth fingertip to push some hair behind your ear. Your eyebrows rose in interest. 

“Wanna know why it's my favorite song?” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, tone rich with sensuality, smirking as he felt your breath hitch. 

“I’ll give you a hint, it's called Slow Ride.”

Your stomach flipped, feeling your face heat up under his dark jade gaze. 

He had you right where he wanted you. 

You released a shaky breath, lifting your gaze to the fine features of his face, “That sounds awfully tempting….”

“Hangman”, he added confidently, the same want swimming under the crystal lattices of his emerald eyes.

He could practically feel the bed sheets around you both, hair splayed around you like a halo as he left marks on your perfect skin. 

“Hangman,” you smiled coyly, morphing into a humorous smirk, “but I’ve been in the Navy long enough to know what you’re about and I’m not interested in being your conquest tonight... plus I think my friend just arrived,” feeling a swell of pride seeing the hope of a shared bed dissipating from his eyes as well as his smug smirk, internally wincing at your humbling choice of words.

“But on a side note,” you reached the back of his neck to toy with his short hair, soft like you imagined. His stomach fluttered at the feeling of your soft fingers grazing his skin. 

“Why would you let yourself get such a stupid callsign? hmm?” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him with a closed-lip smile quirking around the edges. 

He felt like he just got in a car wreck with how much whiplash he just experienced, his mind struggling to keep up.

You quirked your eyebrow, awaiting his response that never came.

“Nothing to say? Hmm? I’ll see you around, Hangover”, patting his cheek lightly, smirking, and shooting him a wink as you brushed against him to get to your feet. He was shocked. He couldn’t bring himself to correct you and it didn’t help that he felt his pants grow a bit tighter. Jake heard his teammates’ snickers, and the passing of cash to the respective collector, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t be mad either; it was like watching a fierce butterfly burst from its cocoon of coy glances and small smiles. He couldn’t get enough and hoped he would see you again as he watched your hips sway as you made your way into the arms of your friend: Phoenix. 

—

Hangman was pleased to see you sitting in the front of the mission debrief space with an empty, inviting leather seat on your left, scrolling through your phone on top of the light blue NATOPS copy on your lap.

A soft sigh as he set himself down pulled you from your phone to meet the Nomex-clad pilot’s coltish gaze. 

You were frankly a bit surprised; you assumed the killer blow to his ego the night before would have made him never want to speak a word to you again. But like you, he was full of surprises it seemed.

“You need something Hangover?” teasing him, raising your eyebrows inquisitively.

“No, Darlin, just enjoying your company,” he smirked, “and it's Hangman.”

You placed your phone on the table and turned to fully face him. He looked just as good as he did last night, much to your annoyance. You were secretly looking forward to seeing him in an outfit that didn’t flatter him entirely, just so you could have an excuse to not like him. 

“Look, I may have been Darlin’ to you last night, but here, now that we know we’re both more than qualified pilots for this mission, I’m Mustang to you, and if you think flirting with me is somehow going to make me overlook your Texas-sized ego and obvious disregard for anyone but yourself, your horribly mistaken.” Your voice stern and eyes sharp, vividly remembering his narcissistic spiel the night before. 

 He felt his core stir. 

His eyebrows furrowed, a hint of a smile developing on his pink lips, his toothpick settling into the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes. His smile growing. 

“Your callsign suits you,” he said gazing at you with a foreign look in his eyes, continuing to move the slender piece of wood around his lips, flipping it over with his tongue.

It took every ounce of resolve in your body to avoid gazing down at his soft muscle, twirling the wood expertly. 

You scowled, eyebrows furrowed, expecting some form of disrespect to your challenge. But alas, his behavior made you question his mental fitness as a naval aviator.

Interrupted from your thoughts by being called to attention, rising to your feet with the man next to you, admiring his over-compensated straight posture and broad shoulders from the corner of your eye; the best and worst three weeks of your life were beginning. 

[chalicepumasway]

Hello God, Cub/Scar/Grian Fanfic. Watchers/Chaos series

Hello God

                Cub/Scar/Grian Watchers/Chaos fanfic written by ChalicePumaSway

Edited 8/23/2024. Corrected Cleo's pronouns.

                Cub retreated from Grian’s companionship after the Permit Master Event. He needed to get the death and chaos energy he had collected into the vessel before too much loss had occurred. He stepped through the sculk at his base, a spot no one would suspect led to his inbetween world.

                He passed door after door of worlds he had conquered. The smell of rotting dragon flesh and smoldering beds tickled his nose. He finally cross into his chaos domain.

                His vex wings popped into existence as he floated down the meticulously created vessel for storing the chaos energy he had been instructed to collect by Upper Management. He stood there watching the images of Cleo’s drowning and False being shot by a pillager with his name, the other deaths passing deeper in to the vessel getting lost in the energy before he could watch them in their entirety.

                He floated up on his vex wings and touched the markers where Total Chaos had added an abundance to this. He passed the marks where the Sculking of the Empires world had been far more successful than even he had imagined. The energy had continued to flow long after he stopped having access to that world.

                He paused at the platform on the top of the vessel. He looked over his Chaos Domain, bits of worlds he had spent years in dwelled here along side this machine. A world full of wool and banners had given a small room of chests and walls covered in strange symbols. He added a copy of Joel’s strange banner to that setting with a wave of his his hand. A red stone machine sliced down the center with half missing with notations on signs like a diagram of human anatomy. On the platform itself strings pulsing with energy flowed into the statues of those most important in this machine.

                First was closest to his heart, Scar, his brother in one world, lover in another. No matter the relation there was a deeply profound connection that seemed to extend out into a world he had only glimpsed. This connection was always there, by choice or compulsion it was all the same.

                The second was Grian, the fallen Watcher, and war author. This connection was almost as important as Scar and in some ways more so. In the battle between chaos, True Chaos, and the Watchers with their sick games, only Grian and him truly knew what it meant to be on the battle front.

                The third was Martyn, a favorite of the Watchers. He had come to Cub when the Blazeling, Tango, had drawn more of the Watchers food together in Decked Out the Sequel. Those who had truly loved the Blazeling’s game, Etho, Pearl, Scar had been some of the best food the Watchers had known. Tango’s own suffering at the hands of the Watchers was on full display in the Frozen Citadel. Martyn had seen the chaos in Cub and his ability to best the Blazeling’s mad world and had chosen him as a mentor. Cub needed more to his connection with Martyn but he trusted in time.

                The fourth was Skizz, the soul from which the boogeyman had spawned. His own POE along side Scar. Another bit of food the Watchers loved so terribly much. The connection there was stronger than Martyn’s but he was only a pawn of the Watchers and was no favorite. Cub still felt he had chosen well, for Skizz’s soul held chaos better than anyone besides Scar and Grian. Even Martyn had appreciated it.

                He stepped outside the circle of his four chosen souls to those just off the platform. Those he was nurturing but hadn’t quite manifested enough connection in one manner or another to be adding to the platform. They would serve their own purpose in the future and each had been chosen as carefully as the center four.

                Cleo, undead and vex were close in many respects. Their burning of the dark oak grove and their vengeance on BigB were beautiful moments he would have loved to collect. Their connection to the Watchers was merely a pawn and his strongest connection to them was as an adversary. Such moments as their museum battle caused such lovely distress as people’s builds lost entire pieces and bits of history were battled over and sought. As friend it was few and far between when they worked together. Perhaps one day that would change.

                Pearl, another pawn of the Watchers, her skills were growing legendary, was there nothing she couldn’t master? If she could best him at pvp and soon redstone then he would have to consider her a rival in all worlds. Perhaps she could even stop him. Her victory in the Watchers game was as devastating and bloody as he himself could hope to have.

                Mumbo, a pawn of the Watchers and a fondness of Grian’s. His skills in many ways were changing. What to expect from him next was perhaps an explosion in competitive behavior. Perhaps not, it had never been his strong suit. Cub had tested his blood thirst with the new mace, it was a puzzle as much as an item of death.  He would see where Mumbo’s recent chaos in the shopping district with the billboard, and his shop protests would lead. He had stood against Doc, so perhaps….perhaps.

                Speaking of Doc, his connection to the Watchers was non existent, but his Chaos and passion for Destruction was legendary. He saw in Cub the same things, accusing him of the silliness with the ore snatcher. Doc did not know all the worlds open to Cub and the grand scale of his works. Cosmic machines were his passion and the smallness of the ore snatching seemed so limited but had intersected with his Labyrinth which he respected and hated all at once. His Labyrinth had produced a small amount when Jevin got caught in it. Not enough for the effort he had invested in it but he would need it in the future.

                For Now was the time. Upper Management had placed him with Skizz, Grian, and Scar in the Permit Office for the final push. A black shirt, gold name tag, red tie, and khakis  had been enough to insert him where he could do the best chaos. Vex magic in X’s shop and the hurried energy of a deadline had done its job. The Permit Master had finished it. Now was the time and place. They had said he would know where to go with this when the time came and he did.

                He stepped back into he circle of the platform and grabbed the strings connected to the four. He wrapped two strings over each hand. He slid the cover over with his foot and dropped into the center of the vessel, which held years of accumulated chaos energy. It surged through him and his form changed. His skin went gray, his grin spread wide, wider than his face into his skull, eyes glowing white. A golden cap slid down with stripes between his eyes and a scratchy beard covered withered pale skin. The infection of sculk flowed from underneath the cap down his face and neck over his arms and down his legs. His white eyes glowed blue and the infection pulsed. In rapid succession he began to change quicker through all the competitive forms, silly, cute, and clever. The rapid pulse of change slowed and stopped with a crown on his head, shades over his eyes, and golden beads over a navy t-shirt. The crown slid off into the chaos around him and the beads shattered into colored dots that shot back at his face and torso. His lab coat and multicolored splatter shifted back into the black shirt and tie and khakis he started with. Only his green eyes sparked with blue and white light.

                He screamed and pulled hardest on the strongest string as the world began to shift and change. Purple eyes peered at him from outside the vessel, a friendly pair at first, but more and more of the purple eyes, many murderous and hungry eyes. The Vex and Sculk in him flared a blinding darkness and those eyes closed and only the friendly eyes remained.

                He dropped into a desert with a sandcastle atop a mountain. He looked around and saw no one. Two familiar voices came closer. He saw a ravine between them and him. With a quick flash he hid it from sight.

                “Sorry buddy, we need you to die here so I can move forward.” He spoke the words softly, a tiny chuckle dropped out of him at the word sorry.

                A scream followed by Grian calling out to Scar yielded the proper amount of flow for him to move forward.

                He floated behind Etho standing on a pillar, fishing rod in hand. The two voices below them bantered back and forth in an excited state.

                Cub leaned forward to Ethos and whispered “Now…..Kill Scar.”

                The fishing line surged forward as Etho’s cry of the Boogyman’s triumph filled the air.

                The energy pushed Cub forward once again.

                He stood over Scar as he peered into a massive collection of zombies. He grinned a second and tosses a wind charge at his friend. Into the pit of zombies he went.

                Scar and Grian’s cries echoed as the energy lurched him unstably forward.

                He stood behind Martyn as Impulse and Scott began to shed their gear. Martyn shuddered and turned. He looked up at Cub with eyes wide. Cub grinned his Vex smile.

                “Ooops too far ahead.”  With a puff of smoke he was gone. He moved back to Grian relieving Scar of his last moments, plunging a sword into him. The death shot him ahead the final time.

                He floated down on the Watcher’s statue or as it was called here, the Secret Keeper. Books piled on the ground around a frantic Scar. Cub’s own form was corrupted by the travel through the worlds. He was a patch work. The left side of his face was covered in sculk with blue eyes, the right side was grey with white eyes, his mouth covered in a beard, his black shirt and khakis were covered in dye splatters but his gold name tag was pristine.

                Scar had yet to notice him. He flexed his blue corruption over grey hands and produced a golden apple. He chomped down on it and used it to regain some of his strength.

                Scar turned at the sound and the sunflowers on his cape seemed to perk up. “Hello God.”

                “Hello my boy.”

                “I wish you were real Cub. I am really lonely.” Scar looked back down at the books around him, picking another one up and a shudder went through his shoulders after mouthing the words again.

                Cub stepped off the statue and slowly floated down on a horizontal angle. He continued to eat the golden apple and watched Scar pick another book up and do the same mad motion of reading it.

                “I did come all the way to see you, you could at least pretend I exist. “ His Vex side grinned so wide it went around the back of his head and touched the sculk side on the back.

                Scar looked up and blinked at him once, then twice. “I could, couldn’t I? Best conversation I’ve had in ages. Would you like to see my sunflower fields?”

                “Of course buddy. We can wander around the whole server and you can tell me about murdering your mother and father.” Cub was still slowly floating down as Scar stood up and brushed his flowers into a less disheveled state.

                A voice called from above Cub. “No no no you can’t play into Scar’s illusions and madness it will only grow.”

                Cub turned while floating down and put his hand behind his head as if comfortably laying on an invisible bed. Above  him with purple wings and eyes Grian rested on the statue he just jumped off of. “I blame you for this I hope you know. Instead of killing him you took on Gem and the Scotts and completely drained yourself of power while whittling their hearts down to next to nothing. Forcing Scott Major to give his life to Gem.”

                “ugh, don’t blame me, blame Pearl for helping him win. I would have killed him earlier if I had ANY idea he would not only survive but not kill himself after the first book generated.” Grian swung his legs back and forth, purple symbols dancing around him and the one on the Secret Keeper glowed purple then red.

                “I do blame her as well. Her power grows. So quick in fact she will be a threat to us both before we can really prepare for her. Imagine a war fought on two sides instead of just between True Chaos and the Watchers.“ Cub landed softly on the ground, resting there without moving or shifting position as if he had planned this all along, the buttons between him and Scar. “Scar dying on purpose has always been his weakness. He dies on accident all the time and has never properly learned how to die intentionally.”

                “Hey! Is that true? Do I not know how to suicide?” Scar had come to lean on the win button which popped out another book.

                “Brother, lover, friend, you would be dead already if you knew how. Instead of sitting here in your own madness waiting for me to come reclaim this part of your vex soul.” Cub popped up onto his feet in a smooth movement and took Scar’s face in both hands, grey and covered in blue sculk.

                “You can’t kill him, Cub. The Watchers have him here and have been feeding on his misery for ages now it seems.” Grian said all this as a matter of fact but his face turned into a sad sorrowful pout.

                The rage and wrath in him began to bubble, the other parts of him slid off onto the ground, a beard’s worth of hair, a golden name tag, and colorful splatter ringed the ground around him and some of it got onto Scar’s sunflowers. In its place a monster made completely of Vex and Sculk rose. The vex wings bubbled with sculk, antennae grew from Cub’s head and his mouth turned into a horror mask of a scream, his eyes disappeared into a vex grin that replaced them. He roared and Grian recoiled for a second. Cub flew to face off with Watcher Grian, his wrath formed a sword in one hand and an ax in the other.

                Grian stared at the monstrous form before him.  His Watcher part flared strongly and his wings grew large with eyes all over them, his body became speckled in eyes as well. Cub could not see and therefore the Watcher powers  were ignored as insignificant. He heard all the blinking of the eyes and reached out with his darkness powers and blinded all the eyes.

                “Your KIND trapped a Vex ALONE here for ages! We die easily it is NOTHING TO US. To be separated from other Vex Souls or other SOULS to bleed and torment, and to feed on that misery!?! NOW THAT is a DECLARATION OF WAR! I am here to RESPOND IN KIND. I am READY FOR WAR, WAR AUTHOR. You WRITE WARS as if they are STORIES TO BE READ.  Here I am to PROCLAIM YOUR BLINDNESS has led to your DOOM.” The words poured from both mouths, the loud screeching from the Vex Mouth and the deep rumbles from the Warden face.

[demonic-snake]

Zolu

Fanfic

When the end

Grab his hand, squeeze his wrist so hard that the bones crack - if they could - and look straight into his eyes, swallowing saliva and trembling all over from fatigue and the wounds caused. “This is dangerous,” I want to drink too much, it’s difficult to speak. “I won’t let you in alone.” “Zoro,” he turns around, smiling unusually, barely noticeable, but confidently. - Everything will be fine. - Luffy... - Or don't you trust me? - I trust! It comes out of his mouth before he has time to think. This trust was strong enough, long enough to have become a part of Zoro himself, like a soulmate tattoo that was carved on his wrist, now burning as if it had been set on fire.

But you better not go there alone. I have a bad feeling. Luffy grins, causing a storm of emotions, not the most pleasant ones. I wanted to nail him to the ground and leave him lying there until it was all over, and then grab him and go to the ship. Together. But so far only the painful groans of the other nakama could be heard, and I just wanted to cover my ears, myself and him, because it was the captain who was most painful to hear. He grabs the hat from his head, first presses it to his chest, and then puts it on Zoro’s head, stretching his lips in a smile, too unusual, too alien, and turns around.

I’ll go there and definitely come back,” Zoro clutches the hilt of the katana in his hands and gets angry. “Listen carefully, Zoro. That's an order. “Zoro doesn’t like these words.” They sound like the captain is saying goodbye. Luffy says goodbye. - Take everyone and go to the ship. And he runs away without even getting a word in. And the tattoo burns, pricks, warming up the blood, causing you to convulsively grab your hand and hiss through your teeth. Sit on your knees, rip off your sleeve and get angry, angry, angry! Angry at shitty soulmates and shitty rules. The red, neat inscription “Take everyone and leave for the ship” is carved precisely on the veins on the wrist, as if calling for cutting right there. My hand hurts unbearably, more than my heart, which was squeezing from the realization that the captain... No, Luffy is leaving forever. - Come back, bastard! – The blood boils, as if heated by the heat of a tattoo. – Don’t you dare leave and leave the team! Stupid! Come back, mother! The voice breaks, trembles, fades away. My heart ached more and more, and only one thought was beating in my head: “If only it were a coincidence!” There are coincidences, but this is hardly a coincidence. Zoro would not go to another crew, would not bow his head to another captain, and would not listen to anyone's orders other than Luffy's. My legs refused to move, refused to stand. The body, like lead, froze, stopped trembling. And only a quiet voice, almost a whisper, made it clear that Zoro was not a statue. That he's still alive. - Captain... Luffy, don't go, damn you! Don’t... - The voice trembled. - Throw them away... Your mother... - Why the hell are you sitting here, idiot?! They pull the collar sharply, forcefully, leaving marks on the neck. Sanji irritably throws his cigarette on the ground and drags behind him a heavy carcass that refuses to leave this place. “Didn’t you hear the captain’s order, you idiot?!” Are you waiting for them to kill you here?! – Throws him forcefully onto the deck, risking breaking something. “Quiet your fucking pride and let the captain do what he’s going to do!”

I wanted to bark something like “you don’t know a damn thing,” but my throat hurt from shouting into the void for so long. His mouth was dry, the wounds on his body burned mercilessly, and Chopper immediately ran to treat them. But the tattoo hurt more. My whole wrist ached with pain, I wanted to carve words into the skin with a katana, along with the veins, and watch the blood drip onto the deck. Convulsively clench your fist and close your eyes to fall into sleep, without any dreams, to wake up first early in the morning, when the sun was barely visible on the horizon, and rush off the ship to the quiet island. There was no fire, no screams, or anything else. Just like the captain. Squeeze your wrist, feeling the still burning tattoo on the skin of your palm, break into a run with your legs barely moving from the wounds, trying to shout out at least something. My throat hurt. The body was burning. It was getting dark before my eyes. Stand on your wounded knees next to the lifeless body, no longer squeezing a hand, but someone else’s hat, pressing it to your chest, and look at the words on the captain’s wrist. “Don’t you dare leave and leave the team!” So that's the moment he stopped hearing Zoro... Laugh. Quietly, barely noticeable, to hide the unbearable pain. Hang the hat on your face, hiding your tears, feeling like a lost child. A child who lost his mother somewhere on a crowded street, not knowing what to do next and where to go. He lost his captain. Your soulmate. A man whom he managed to love with all possible types of love: as a friend, brother, son and boyfriend. I lost the one I was going to follow my whole life. So, what is next?

[chaotic-bisexual-dumbass]

Chapter 1

Marvel fanfic

Eventual (platonic) relationship: Bucky Barnes x daughter!reader

The boat is floating across the dark sea, the night shining above. Waves slowly rock it back and forth as it slowly travels atop of the water. The crew was mostly asleep or halfway there. Few men walked across the cargo-boat, not completely sure what they were guarding the shipment from, but patrol was necessary.

The captain was alone in the control pod, rocking his head to the rhythm of the music playing from his walkman. The device was quite outdated, but it held a special place in his remotely cold heart and it played music, so what more could he need?

Probably a doctor, since his throat was sliced open smoothly, his dark red blood cascading to the ground along with the man, who quickly became a corpse. The music was still playing when the earphones were gently taken out of his ears to go into those of the silhouette standing where he once was.

It nodded along with the beat of the song, Thriller by Micheal Jackson. The person closed their eyes and breathed slowly, basking in the pleasant sound, completely unbothered by the body laying at their feet. They wiped the blood off the blade before opening their eyes once more and making their way out of the cabin, closing the door behind them.

The moon and few lights around the boat revealed them, or her, her body wrapped in fabric and gear.

She went from one man to another, stabbing, slicing and beating them until breathing became a foreign concept. A poor excuse of a smile played on her lips when the final chorus came on, basking into the music, something practically unknown to her up until this very moment.

Her moment was cut short when a punch came her way. She dodged it and spun around to face the new participant to this bloody masquerade. A tall man, easily above 6’5 feet, launched a second attack, a kick swiping the floor towards where she stood.

She stepped back to dodge it. The girl tightened her grip on her knife, attempting to strike him in the neck. He caught her arm and twisted it, making her drop the knife.

She kneed him in the crotch area then in the stomach. He threw a punch at her nose, once, then twice. She fell back, her nose bleeding greedily. She cursed mentally, glaring at him.

He charged at her, throwing her through a door. He straddled her and attempted to punch her in the face. She caught his fist and kicked him from her position on the ground. She hit the back of the neck, making him stumble which allowed her to raise a hand up and grab his neck, clawing at it.

She switched positions, throwing him on the ground and grabbing a knife seated at her belt, stabbing him in the eye and thus, in the brain.

A deep exhale escaped her nose, standing back up and making her way out of the room to the deck. A few agents were now aboard, a red marking on their arm sleeve making them recognizable. She turned around to walk in direction of the staircase but was stopped in her tracks by an apparent human being.

The mercenary seriously doubted she was human though and suspected she was actually a robot. No way anyone on heart was this strict, even the Director was more laid back. She reluctantly looked up to meet the intense gaze staring at her, looking for something to accuse her of.

“Что это?” (What is this?), the buff woman asked demandingly, ripping out the earphones from the soldat’s ears. The walkman followed behind, slipping away from its spot on the girl’s belt.

She shrugged, truly not knowing what it was. She stared ahead of her, refusing to look at the older woman. She was tall, taller than most men. Her skin was tanned, dark brown hair tied back in a plain bun.

The woman’s arched nose scrunched in frustration. “почему ты считаешь, что имеешь право на такие вещи, как

этот?” (why do you think you have a right to things like

this?), her voice raised an octave, one or two agents glancing our way, but quickly averting their eyes when they saw who was involved.

The young soldier looked up at her a second time this evening, her posture still upright and unmoving, though she was fighting the urge to attack her and rip out her larynx. “Я не знаю. Я взял его, чтобы узнать, что слышал человек, которого я убил в последний раз.” (I don't know. I took it to find out what the man I killed last heard.), she answered bluntly, her voice small and quiet, not feeling the need to raise her voice. And not having the right either, but that’s beyond the point.

Their staring contest lasted for a few more seconds before it was interrupted by the woman’s earpiece. “Guerra, come in.”

The woman stood up straight, putting her stature on display. “What?”

“You and Stalker on Chopper 9, now. Director’s order.”, the person in the earpiece said. Guerra sighed, frowning. Meanwhile, the girl was still glaring at her, her stare unmoving.

“Copy.”, she answered simply, turning back to the asset. She raised an eyebrow upon discovering that said asset was still staring but she didn't question it.

A light appeared above, two ropes falling from the sky.

Was it God? No, just a helicopter.