three-sentence fanfiction
shelightsupwell requested:
told there’d be tea: sherlock + john (for stef)
“That’s clearly just a jammy dodger!” Sherlock complained with a huff, settling his shoulders as a peevish old man would.
“And you just have to take the fun out of everything, don’t you?” John retorted with a sigh. “Sherlock, sometimes you just need to keep your mouth shut and go along for the ride-you might find you enjoy it."
truffle_shuffle requested:
best man: river + rory (for truffle_shuffle)
She liked him, she decided. Unassuming, with that perpetually hangdog expression, expressive eyes, and rather incredible nose-but here was a faithful hound dog who wouldn’t hesitate to bark or bite if need be. In a strange and silly sort of way, River envied Amy; at least she had a husband who was reliable and incessantly loyal, and who didn’t leave her locked up in a Stormcage Facility (okay, yes, alright, that was her own fault, and she always did tell him that she wanted a career outside the marriage and a life of her own...).
riseoverrun requested:
happy birthday (to the ground): peter parker/gwen stacey (for anne)
“Oh, shit, Gwen, I’m sorry!” he said quickly, as her eye settled on the broken remains of what had been (quite possibly) the world’s most glazed, iced, and sprinkle-bedazzled cake ever baked. It looked more like some avant garde artist’s installation piece now, the blue and pink and green splashed dramatically across the white tile of the kitchen floor.
“Oh, Peter,” she said fondly with a half-restrained laugh, reaching out to wipe a smear of frosting from his cheek.
professor_spork requested:
orbiting the sun: eugene/rapunzel (for leah)
There will always be something of that magical golden flower in her-in her laugh, in her step, in her eyes. A hasty haircut (he still feels ridiculously bad for not being more forgiving with that trim) hasn’t robbed her completely of its power and beauty.
And, as he discovers much to his delight, she glows slightly in the dark, her skin shining pale and honey-hued beneath the white sheets of their bed.
marketchippie requested:
checkmate: elektra/renard (for crezia)
The first thing he teaches her is to always use your queen to your (and her) best advantage. “She can move anywhere, in any direction,” he says. She proves him right later, tangled in bedsheets, breathing in his spent breath, her name a prayer on his bruised lips.
at his fingertips: imhotep/anck-sun-amun (for crezia)
It was her touch, a single caress unintentionally bestowed in an unguarded moment, that broke his holiest vows and truly sealed his fate. He would wake from a sound slumber, body aching to press skin to hers, and knew there was only one recourse. He would court his soul’s complete damnation just to lay his hands (and mouth, and…) upon her again.
told there’d be tea: sherlock + john (for stef)
“That’s clearly just a jammy dodger!” Sherlock complained with a huff, settling his shoulders as a peevish old man would.
“And you just have to take the fun out of everything, don’t you?” John retorted with a sigh. “Sherlock, sometimes you just need to keep your mouth shut and go along for the ride-you might find you enjoy it."
truffle_shuffle requested:
best man: river + rory (for truffle_shuffle)
She liked him, she decided. Unassuming, with that perpetually hangdog expression, expressive eyes, and rather incredible nose-but here was a faithful hound dog who wouldn’t hesitate to bark or bite if need be. In a strange and silly sort of way, River envied Amy; at least she had a husband who was reliable and incessantly loyal, and who didn’t leave her locked up in a Stormcage Facility (okay, yes, alright, that was her own fault, and she always did tell him that she wanted a career outside the marriage and a life of her own...).
riseoverrun requested:
happy birthday (to the ground): peter parker/gwen stacey (for anne)
“Oh, shit, Gwen, I’m sorry!” he said quickly, as her eye settled on the broken remains of what had been (quite possibly) the world’s most glazed, iced, and sprinkle-bedazzled cake ever baked. It looked more like some avant garde artist’s installation piece now, the blue and pink and green splashed dramatically across the white tile of the kitchen floor.
“Oh, Peter,” she said fondly with a half-restrained laugh, reaching out to wipe a smear of frosting from his cheek.
professor_spork requested:
orbiting the sun: eugene/rapunzel (for leah)
There will always be something of that magical golden flower in her-in her laugh, in her step, in her eyes. A hasty haircut (he still feels ridiculously bad for not being more forgiving with that trim) hasn’t robbed her completely of its power and beauty.
And, as he discovers much to his delight, she glows slightly in the dark, her skin shining pale and honey-hued beneath the white sheets of their bed.
marketchippie requested:
checkmate: elektra/renard (for crezia)
The first thing he teaches her is to always use your queen to your (and her) best advantage. “She can move anywhere, in any direction,” he says. She proves him right later, tangled in bedsheets, breathing in his spent breath, her name a prayer on his bruised lips.
at his fingertips: imhotep/anck-sun-amun (for crezia)
It was her touch, a single caress unintentionally bestowed in an unguarded moment, that broke his holiest vows and truly sealed his fate. He would wake from a sound slumber, body aching to press skin to hers, and knew there was only one recourse. He would court his soul’s complete damnation just to lay his hands (and mouth, and…) upon her again.