#mark deck fanfic

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

Random question abt jd, is skirk her canon design or does she have her cn design? (im totally in love with your cn skirk btw, shes perfect to me <3)

given we're going w guizhong's canon design, i'd say it's the same for skirk? but honestly i think i describe the characters' appearances minimally enough that you could picture her however you like, so

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[uncaaj]

Fanfic: The Triple Tandem Strike! (DuckTales 17)

Originally published in the Team Science Zine. GET THE ZINE HERE!

READ NOW ON AO3!

The sliding glass doors parted, blowing the stale air of wood wax, burnt fluorescent bulbs, and haggis into the faces of Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, Gyro Gearloose, and Fethry Duck. Lil Bulb couldn’t smell this strong mish-mash because they didn’t have nostrils. Yet.

Gyro crinkled his beak and exhaled sharply through his nose. “Somehow,” he said, “this smells exactly like a bowling alley Mr. McDuck purchased from Flintheart Glomgold.”

“I think that’s a more telling sign,” said Fenton, pointing straight ahead. Indeed, across the back wall of the 20 bowling lanes, sometimes blocked by attendants passing dressed in full highland wear, was a mural of rolling green Scottish hills backed by a blazing sunset.

“It’s got charm,” said Fethry as they approached the main counter. “It’s homey.”

Gyro rolled his eyes. “If you like Glomgold’s Scotland, which no one does.”

“I’m sure these people would love to lose the kilts as soon as possible,” Fenton concurred.

“Ain’t that the truth,” said the shaggy-haired attendant, adjusting his kilt. “We blame the high turnover on the itchiness alone. Anyway, what can we do ya for?”

“Hour rental and three pairs of shoes,” Gyro deadpanned.

The attendant smirked in surprise before fishing the shoes from below. “What’s his deal?” he asked.

“He just doesn’t like bowling,” said Fenton.

“My work outing preference was maliciously overruled,” Gyro grumbled.

“Well, I see it as democracy prevailing,” said Fethry.

“A nephew of McDuck would say that,” Gyro sneered.

Fenton stepped in between the two. “O-o-okay, we all deserve this break from work. We are going to relax and have fun, and nothing will go wrong, alright?”

“Sure thing!” said Fethry.

Gyro crossed his arms. “Fine.”

+++

Across the lanes, a white ball with baby blue streaks slammed into the deck and hooked to the left into the gutter. It took the roll of shame all the way to the end and every single pin remained, solid, mocking its thrower.

“Come on!” crowed Mark Beaks, punching the air. “Throwing a ball into some lousy pins should not be this hard!”

Falcon Graves’ eye twitched as the grating squawk of his employer broke his concentration on his target. “It might be for someone who’s never done any exercise.”

Mark stomped over to his bodyguard. “Hey, a billionaire’s thing is exercising without doing dumb real exercise. Mark Beaks will not follow the normies and golf!”

Falcon sighed and closed his assassin mobile game to give his boss his full attention. “You destroyed a mini golf windmill because you went five over par.”

Mark pointed a finger in Falcon’s face. “Shut your mouth! You’re just like my dad!”

“That’s what you said last time,” Falcon mumbled, not paying attention anymore.

Mark huffed, marching to the ball rack, dark clouds storming above his head. “I’ll show those loser boomers. I can do sports. I can be a well-rounded billionaire.” He shoved a kid down by his face and carried the heaviest ball he could find back to his lane.

Or rather, as Fethry observed while holding a ball to his ear, “Fascinating. It’s like a jellyfish dragging a brain coral across the ocean floor.”

Fenton looked up from the tablet and saw the struggling gray macaw heave the great sphere on his ball machine and collapse to his knees, panting. “I’d almost feel bad for Mark if it weren’t for the thieving of my concepts, the numerous assaults on me and my friends’ lives, and what’s worse, the microaggressions.” Fenton shuddered at the memory.

Gyro tugged the laces of his bowling shoes tight and stood up. “He’s a petulant baby. If we don’t pay attention to him, hopefully he’ll give up and leave.”

“You’re right,” said Fenton, shaking his head and giving the touchscreen some final taps to officially start their game. “Your turn first, Fethry!”

Fethry looked back and sauntered over. “The book I read beforehand says to find a ball that speaks to you.” He held out a red ball, scuffed with years of use. “And this one says, ‘I’m a star!’”

“Are you sure it didn’t just sound like the ocean?” Gyro quipped.

“It’s your first time, right?” said Fenton, sitting on the tartan-wrapped bench. “Focus on throwing it straight. Good luck!”

“If it goes anywhere besides the lanes besides, I’ll be surprised,” Gyro whispered. Fenton elbowed him as Fethry stepped up and checked his aim. He chucked his ball with all the grace of a sea lion and it traveled straight and true on its way to bowling over every pin.

“I know that! That’s a strike!” Fethry cheered, hopping from foot to foot. “Boyoboy!”

Gyro cleared his throat and Fenton clapped. “Way to go, Fethry!”

Fethry beamed and walked back as Gyro took his ball to the lane. He eased into a wide stance and heaved it down the center with both hands. It rolled at a snail’s pace and curved to the left, clipping one pin.

Gyro sniffed. “Sports are not scientific,” he said, returning to his seat.

Fenton stepped up and threw his ball with enthusiasm. It looked good and true and resulted in a 7-10 split. Fenton placed his hands on his hips. Strike up above him, one pin just below… “And here I am, stuck in the middle with you,” he said.

Crunching and crashing bellowed immediately followed by a deafening roar. Fenton whipped his head around to see a giant Mark Beaks rip his shirt off and send plastic chairs flying with one swipe of his bulging, muscular arm. Bystanders howled in fear and ran for any cover still standing. Before he could even comprehend what was going on, a falcon in a suit bolted toward them and shouted, “Get down!”

He was tackled along with Gyro and Fethry before he could think, hitting the deck hard as a bowling ball clattered down next to them and rolled away. 

“I apologize for this,” said Falcon, “he did this the last time as well. And then sued the mini golf after his rampage. And lost.”

Gyro picked up his hat. “I’m sure if we keep our heads down and don’t let him see us, we can get out safely. Then McDuck can write this off or something.”

“But then where will Duckburg bowl?” Fethry asked.

“They’ll play a board game, like normal people!” Gyro hissed.

“No, Fethry’s right!” said Fenton, wriggling out of Falcon’s hold.

“You didn’t bring the suit, though!” said Gyro. “Stop him, whoever you are!”

Falcon let Fenton go and shrugged at Gyro. “Mark doesn’t pay me enough for that.”

Fenton emerged from behind the bench and pointed at the behemoth Beaks. “HEY, YOU!”

Mark dropped the balls in his arms and turned to Fenton, his beak curling into a devious grin. “Well, hey there, Gizmoloser!” he mocked, his timbre unaffected by his body’s growth. “Long time no beat!”

I’ll take “Gizmoloser” any day over “amigo,” Fenton thought before declaring, “You’d better stop this temper tantrum of yours, or you’ll be sorry!”

“Pffft! Big words against a big manly man like Megabeaks!” He snatched up the heaviest ball and threw it like a baseball at the pins. It was the perfect intimidating move. The pins collapsed in a great crash, and suddenly, Megabeaks’ puny brain had a brain blast. “You know what? I’m pretty good at this now.”

He looked back at Fenton, whose eyes were wide at the display of utter and absolute skill. “You wanna take this on? Let’s do it! First to a turkey gets to brag about this on social media, and I won’t take it down.”

“Alright then,” said Fenton, not sure what exactly he was getting into.

“Falcon!” Megabeaks called out. “Where’d you go?!”

Falcon popped up, holding Fethry and Gyro in each hand by their scruffs.

Fethry looked to Falcon and then to Megabeaks. “Do either of you perchance read Mass in Minutes by Arnold Schwarzenebird?”

“Know what?” said Megabeaks, “I’ll even let your nerd friends be on your team. I can beat anyone like this, no British bodyguards needed!”

Falcon dropped them, visibly offended. “Right. I’ll be over here then,” he said tersely as he walked toward the front counter.

“You know he’s gonna call the police, right?” asked Gyro.

“As if, losers!” Megabeaks scoffed. “I pay his dry cleaning bills! BWAHAHAHAHA!”

Fenton was embarrassed for him as he gathered his friends in a huddle. “I was scared the first time, but he's truly pathetic.”

“Is Falcon really gonna call the police?” Fethry asked.

“I promised him a 20% raise. We could use a bodyguard,” said Gyro. “McDuck authorized me to.”

Fenton shrugged. “Money talks.”

Gyro nodded. “So we just have to stall long enough for the police to nab him.”

“But we can beat him!” said Fethry.

“Absolutely not!” Gyro snapped. “Do not get a big head because you bowled a strike on your first throw!”

“But I know a special throw from my book! The triple tandem strike! Lookit…”

Megabeaks tapped his fingers against his arm as the science nerds seemed to be taking forever in their little huddle. “Are you telling your dumb life stories to each other? FACE ME!”

“Break!” said Fethry, and the trio lined up, ready for battle.

Megabeaks grabbed a ball and grinned devilishly. “You go first.”

“Okay, everyone,” said Fethry, “just like we planned. Ready?”

“This defies all logic but I’m ready,” Gyro said, placing his green ball on the foul line.

Fenton set his down next to Gyro’s. “Let’s go, Fethry!” The two stepped to the side, placing their trust in their most eccentric colleague.

Fethry steeled his gaze at the two balls and raised his own. “Limber…loose…feet apart.”

“GET ON WITH IT!” Megabeaks bellowed.

Fethry wasn’t fazed. “10:00…2:00, quarter to three, tour jeté, twist, pas de deux, I'm a little teapot!”

Megabeaks was stunned at the display of pure buffoonery that was Fethry waving his ball around in some freak dance, but now it was at the apex.

“Now the windup…and let 'er fly!” The ball left Fethry’s hand and whizzed toward the balls. It connected perfectly, sending each one to the lanes on either side. They hit their marks, felling each set of pins like they were made of marshmallows, while Fethry’s ball arched over the middle lane, reaching earth again in a sea of tumbling pins. Not one withstood the onslaught.

Fenton and Gyro cheered and high-fived. Fethry wiped his hand on his blazer and crossed his arms. “Perfect.”

Megabeaks stood like a gobsmacked statue before picking his jaw up off the floor. “PRACTICER!” he fumed, “You rehearsed that knowing I’d be here!”

“Mark Beaks,” said Gyro, shaking his head. "I knew you were stupid, but even you’ve impressed me.”

“It’s the triple tandem strike,” said Fethry, “invented by 15-time champion bowler George Geef, and it’s regulation- Oops!”

Fethry was hastily hoisted into the air by his front and came face-to-face with a steaming Megabeaks.

“I’LL REGULATION YOUR FACE, YOU LOW-DOWN, LUCKY, CRINGE, BOOMER, NO-RIZZ-“

POP!

Fethry yelped as Mark’s arm began to curdle like bad oatmeal, then a chorus of popcorn-like bangs chorused around them and Fethry saw the ground getting closer. As the popping died down and the smoke cleared, Fethry felt his feet touch the floor and beheld a normal, scrawny, weakling Mark Beaks, wearing tatters for clothes. Fethry took that moment to wipe excess spittle from his bill.

Mark looked like he might cry. “I-it lasted longer last time.”

Sirens grew in volume and suddenly, the doors burst open. “POLICE! Come out with your hands up!”

Thus Mark Beaks was carted off to jail for the second time that year. When Scrooge arrived a few moments later, he assured the team that he would wring every last dollar out of the Waddle CEO possible, and use it to remodel the bowling alley into something Duckburg could be proud of.

+++

Back at the lab, the three scientists were gathered around the coffee station, sipping their mugs in contentment. Gyro broke the silence with, “I must say, if that’s what bowling can be, I may actually take it up.”

“And I can be your teacher!” said Fethry. “The book I read will have you a pro in no time!”

“Whatever you say,” said Gyro.

“Good job, Fethry,” said Fenton. 

The three raised their glasses to a fun outing and to the beauty of hitting billionaires where it hurt: damages and legal fees.

[beyourownanchor6]

Our beloved hellsite runs on ducttape and chewed gum for real like a macgyver thing

I used to watch Smallville with my mom and I have sincr rewatched it a couple times. It's s bad it's camp.

Oh i used to love the cw superhero shows. I fell out around the time they did the heroes vs. Nazi dopplegangers crossover special, because seeing mt favorite heroes all decked in ss outfits was triggering to me as a Jew.

Yeah i totally get that.

Shooting star is the glee school shooting episode. It's the worst example of them butchering a serious issue but there were many (suicide, post partum depression, eating disorders...). Yeah exactly. It is an interesting documentary though. I found it curious how they barely dedicated any time to mark salling. Like usually a documentary like that would milk the scandal as much as it could, but they barely touched on it.

Lol exactly!! And thank you. Yeah me too i'm wearing them right now! They make me look like a bearded Velma. I like that.

Oh i look forward to rambling about the bike riders! Ooh my favorite marvel characters or ships... i like Spider-Man, the Scarlet Witch, Agatha, Bucky, Quicksilver, both Captain Americas, Captain Marvel, Ms. Marvel, Thor... as for ships, I ship Buck and Steve, mostly, but I also like the thought of most of the guys making out with each other. What about you? And lol i still listen to hannah montana often.

Oh SAME! I'm trying to get back into books without sacrificing much of my fanfic time. It's tricky. And you're right, fanfics are basically endless. Besides, there's the added bonus of "we already care about these characters".

P.s.: are these asks annoying you? Are they too long? Would you rather I dm you?

it really does though, and yet we keep coming back lol.

i think my parents said it got "weird" after a while, and i've definitely stopped other shows for that lol, but maybe one day i'll try it out again.

oof, yea that's understandable. i think arrow was the only one i watched all the way through and i regretted that lmao. they all lost me after a few seasons, but superman and lois has been good all around which was a nice change.

ohhh i completely forgot they did an episode on that! the school shooting ep that always sticks out in my mind is from one tree hill. yea i thought that was weird too. i think since that was so shocking and such a sensitive topic they wanted to steer clear of it? but yea you'd think for the scandal they would've been all over that.

i've thought about writing some fic for the bikeriders, but we shall see! oooh that's a great list! i love thor, bucky, venom, scarlet witch, black widow, hawkeye, echo, both captain americas, and...so many honestly 😄 i think my big marvel ships are sambucky and symbrock, but i did start reading some deadpool and wolverine after seeing the new movie lol

ugh yes!! i told myself i need to catch up on the fics i have open and then make a point to read some actual books. my goal is 20 for the year so i still have 10 to go lol.

not annoying me at all! and i am ok with whatever! i put read more incase it's annoying anyone else lol. but i am good with whatever works for you 😊