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Chapter Text

       Crowley and aziraphale were having a silly little walk around the lake, as one does. Suddenly, Aziraphale was pushed into the lake! Crowley turned to smite whoever did such a terrible act, but the person ran! He did not have time for this (they could be killed for their actions later) and turned to help aziraphale. however, Crowley could not sense Aziraphale's presence. where could he have gone?

Crowley knew only one person who could solve such a mystery, the infamous Sherlock Holmes!!!

Crowley burst into the detective's apartment. Using miracles to open each door. Sherlock was sitting in his chair. With his violin in hand. 
  "Can I help you?" he asked as he plucked the strings. 
  "My..my friend was pushed into a lake and he suddenly disappeared," Crowley explained, "And you're a detective aren't you?"
  "Yes. Of course I am," 
  Crowley stared at him. Unable to read him.
  "He's not your friend at all is he?" 
John stepped into the room with a tray of tea. Three cups with saucers and one teapot. 
  "He's your lover. Well you want him to be," Sherlock responded standing up. 
 Crowley stared at him. Sherlock pointed to the seat in front of him offering him to sit down. Crowley looked at his shorter friend who gave him an apologetic look.

   "Don't mind him, he likes to show off," The shorter one of the 3 said. "please sit." Crowley took a moment before sitting in a nearby chair. Sherlock steepled his hands and stared at Crowley. 
   "So..your, friend, got pushed into a lake and disappeared? That's easy. Your friend mearly, teleported away as soon as he hit the lake, isn't that obvious? You are..how do you say..other worldly beings aren't you not?" Sherlock said, his gaze unmoving from Crowleys black sunglasses. Crowley didn't know how to respond, it seemed like such a simple explanation so how on earth did he not think of it? 
   "Don't pitty yourself. Most people are dumb enough to not think of it in a time of panick." Sherlock sighed, getting up from his chair and going to the kitchen without another thought or look to Crowley. Crowley sighed and teleported back to his apartment. 

Chapter Text

It was a bright summers day, and Azirafaile was in his bookshop organizing some books when a ding came from the door. Azeraphale, at first, thought it was Crowley.
"Crowley, my dear boy, come in!" He called out, putting a book on the shelf before turning around. But when he turned around, it was not Crowley who he was staring at, it was an elf boy.
"Can you help me? I'm lost." The elf boy signed to Az.
"Of course! Where are you from? What's your name?"
"Link," They signed. "Do you know the way to hyrule?"
"Yes, i-" however, Link had made himself busy by picking up an antique jar and dropping it on the ground. He grabbed the money that was hidden inside.
Aziraphale was in shock, He sensed no malicious intent from Link, yet here he was destroying things? It seemed that Link needed a lesson in proper etiquette.
"Dear child, I understand if you would like to be back on your way, but would you terribly mind if i mentor you a bit? it will only take a few minutes. I would just like to instill you with a bit of knowledge of politeness!"
"Alright," Link said in the moody teenager way. Aziraphale stared down at him, he had delt with children before.
"I still want the money," he added.
"For what?" The angel asked.
"For drugs. Obviously,"
"Obviously?" Aziraphale asked.
"YES I loooove drugs,"
Aziraphale took the cash out of the elf child's hands.
"NO drugs," He assured.
"Why do you have a bookshop. Books are boring," Link signed.
"I like them,"
"Well then you're stupid,"
Aziraphale huffed, "I have had quite enough of this," he grabbed the back of Link's shirt and tossed him out into the street, locking the doors behind him.

Chapter Text

    John walked into the gentalmens club. He was looking for Mycroft Holmes. This was their usual meeting place by John's request. He was tired of getting into unmarked vehicles. A man walked up to him and tapped his shoulder. John turned to the man and then followed him out of the room and into Mycroft's office. 
  "Doctor Watson. Please take a seat," said Mycroft. John stared him in the eyes and slowly lowered himself into the chair. He wasn't threatened by Mycroct and he wanted to make sure that he knew.
  "You know, Mycroft, its getting a bit annoying getting into unmarked cars and what not, just to meet you." John said flatly. Mycroft hummed and sat down in his own chair. 
  "My apologies, John, but it is nessesary," Mycroft sighed. "I need your help, John. As you see, my brother is in a bit of a perdicament, and I need you help getting him out of it." John stared at Mycroft, his fists clenching in his lap. 
  "Why me? Can't you get your own men to do it?" John huffed. Mycroft shook his head. 
  "No, John. This requires your own...facinating mind. You see, sherlock is in Love."
  "Nah, that total nerd? That actual loser? No frickin way"
  "Um... yes...erm, frickin way? We require your ... knowledge of my brother to uh, figure out who he is in love with! Yes. Please investigate this thoroughly. bye!" Mycroft ran away awkwardly.

    "Sherlock, you'll never believe it!" John said as he walked thruogh the door of 221 baker street. "Mycroft says you're in love! what a silly joke! Omg" John walked to see sherlock, looking uncharacteristically troubled. 
  "Hes.....not lying. I am... in love."
  "Wait, for real? With who?"
  "Um, some guy. Ya know."
  "So you ARE gay! I support your coming out in every way! go get him!"
Sherlock had his thinking look on. Then he said, "Ok, i will go get him then. If you insist." Sherlock kissed john, and they made out and then lived happily ever after the end

Chapter Text

John was peacefully brewing some tea when he heard a knock at the door. 

   “Coming!” He said, rising and opening it. There was a girl there, blond with pointy ears, certainly in distress. “Can i help you?” John asked.

   “Oh, please do!” She cried. John let her in.

   “Would you like some tea?”

She gratefully took a cup, and asked, “You’re the famous detective then, I take it?”

   “Oh! no, absolutely not. That would be my partner, he’s unfortunately out investigating some silly axe murderer in the countryside. I can leave a message for him?”

   “Oh, no, that won’t do! I need help now! If you’re his partner, i’m sure you’ve picked up some things, you need to help me!” John furrowed his brows as he stared at the short girl. He stuck his arm out and lead her from the kitchen into the living area. Classical music was playing from his laptop.  221B was quiet when Sherlock wasn't there so John liked to have some kind of music. Violin music.  

The girl sat in his chair. He looked at her for a moment before clearing his throat and awkwardly sitting in his ‘friend’s' seat. John put his hands up to his mouth like he had seen Sherlock do many times. Zelda cocked her head and asked, 

   "Why do you do that?"

   "Helps me think," John lied out of embarrassment.

   "What is your name? You seem quite young to be out on your own."

   "Zelda. And I'm fine actually. We'll not fine. That's why I'm here you see, I was at home when I decided to take a nap and I woke up in this strange city." She explained. John raised an eyebrow.

   "You just..teleported?" He asked, his curiosity rising. Zelda nodded and buried her head in her hands, a soft cry emerging from her lips. John looked at her with pity. 

   "Yes! I was in my room in the castle after taking a walk with my knight. I then took a nap, but when I woke up I was here, and I don't even know where here is!" Zelda cried out. John sighed and got up and took over a box of tissues to the girl before sitting back down. 

   "Well, first off, you are in London England. Second, I'm afraid I don't know how to help you with teleportation issues Zelda. See we don't get that issue here.." John stated but drifted off as Zelda's look got more distressed. John closed his eyes for just a moment, wondering where his wonderful partner was when he needed him. When John opened his eyes, the elf girl was no longer in front of him. And when he checked his flat and around the block she was no where to be seen. 

   "How odd! This is a story to tell Sherlock for sure. He wouldn't believe me." John muttered.

Chapter Text

     Who knew Pedro Pascal and Harry Styles were bffs? Cause most people didn't. So when Harry Styles was caught talking to Pedro backstage after a concert, people went crazy. 

Harry Shielded his eyes with his hand, trying to cover at leats part of his face from the press now surounding him and Pedro. Out of the corner of his eyes Harry could see Pedro freeze in place and his body go stiff. 
   "Harry Styles! Pedro Pascal! How long has this friendship been going on?" 
   "Harry! Is this just your regular friendship or is something else going on?" News reports pestered the two with questions upon questions, trying to get an answer out of the two. harry grabbed pedro, and booked it down an alleyway. 
   “I know a place we can go! Cmon!!” Just before they burst out of the small alley, they were hit from behind and both blacked out.

Pedro woke in a dark room. Where was he? And where was harry? He found that his hands were not restrained, which was lucky. He was in a bed, surprisingly comfortable, and he actually found himself reluctant to stand up, he did, however, and glanced over to the nightstand. The only things sitting on it were a piece of paper, and a mug. Pedro peered into it, and took a whiff of it. Hot chocolate? He had no idea what was going on. Clutching the paper in his hand, he figured it couldn’t hurt to drink the stuff. He took a big sip of the hot chocolate.
   "PEDRO! I found you!" Harry cried out. He ran to pedro and gave him a hug. 
   "Where are we?" Pedro asked, "and why are you not restrained?"
   "Well. I don't exactly know how to tell you this. But apparently our friendship has gotten the attention of a lot of people," Harry began.
Pedro's eyes went wide as a few other people walked into the room. He sat back down on the bed. 
   "You've been kidnapped," one of them said. They had an Irish accent.
   "By who??" Pedro yelled. His voice shook as he spoke.
Harry sighed, "You've been kidnapped by one direction."
Just then the others came into the light. Zayn, Niall, and the others who's names he didn't know.
   "What are you saying Harry! Has our whole friendship been a lie!?"
   "NO pedro of course not! But they promised me a seat at the Eras tour," Harry responded. 

Chapter Text

      Jack Sparrow was under the deck sitting in a chair. It was the middle of the night and the ship was swaying a lot. There was a knock at his door.
   "Come in," He said. It was Will, and he was dragging a man in by the wrists who tall and wearing a blue coat. 
   "Who is this?" 
   "Sherlock Holmes," Will responded.
   "And what is this 'Sherlock' character doing here?" Jack said, his voice slurring the words together as he had just drank an entire bottle of rum. The rough sea was getting to him and he just needed to black out for a bit.
   "I am here against my will thank you very much." Sherlock grumbled, tugging his wrist out of the grasp of Will's hands. "Your..partner drug me onto this terrable ship of yours for no reason." 
Jack stared at Will and Will just shurgged in response. Popping out from his spot under the table, Jack held out a wobbly hand to Sherlock. 
   "Well, a pleasure to meet you sir." The Captian said, grinning. Sherlock mearly stared at the hand, not making a move to greet the pirate. 
   "Greetings." Sherlock said flatly. "May I go now?" Jack frowned and lowered his hand then looked to Will again, but again Will just shrugged.
   “Elizabeth told me she’d heard of him. Famous detective, apparently? I, for one, have never heard of this guy. Anyway, elizabeth figured he’d be able to find the course to the lost island of gold,” Will explained.
   “So she kidnapped him?” Jack asked, impressed.
   “Yes, she did. I am not thankful for it, given i have to spend precious time here with you lot,” Sherlock said with distaste.
   “Now, now, don’t be like that! I’m sure we can have a swell time. Come with me, detective.” Jack led sherlock to the railing of the ship. They watched the sea churn under the moonlight. Sherlock glanced at jack. Was this… almost romantic?
   “Now, i’m sure you can find the island of gold.”
   “What shall you give me in exchange?”
Jack only offered a smirk.
   “Well, [insert nerdy ramblings] the island must be located in the seventh sea. I can give you exact coordinates.”
   “Hm, thanks, sweetheart!” Jack gave the detective his payment, a kiss ofc.

Chapter Text

     John was sitting in his chair at the table while Sherlock sat across from him. They were eating a lovely dinner from a Chinese restaurant that John was quite fond of and Sherlock could tolerate. John was supposed to have gone on a date with some woman but she had canceled on account of Sherlock's behavior when she walked through the door. John was pissed at him so Sherlock decided to go out and get his favorite food to make up for it. However, John wasn't having it. He was eating in total silence, ghosting Sherlock. He finally spoke: "Why do you drive all of my dates away?"

"They're not suitable."

John frowned.

"What do you mean they're not suitable? They're always perfectly nice women. What's wrong with you?"

"They're not suitable enough for you. You're far above their league is all." Sherlock took a bite of his chow mein and glanced out the window languidly.

"...Now what do you mean by that?"

"Oh, I mean you're just smarter, kinder, and far too handsome..."

"HANDSOME????????"

Sherlock stared at John.

"Why yes, of course. I thought that was quite noticeable John." He said while sipping some water. John stared at Sherlock, licking his lips as heat rushed to his face.

"W-well yes, of course. Noticeable..yeah." Juhn stammered, not looking Sherlock in the eye. "Can we just go home, Sherlock? Please?" Sherlock looked at John from over his cup, his eyes softening.

"Sure John. We can go home." When they got home, it was quite nice. John sat in his chair while Sherlock played a lovely tune on his violin. John smiled up at Sherlcok, the heat rising in his face again.

"This is nice, isn't it Sherlock? Just you and I?" Hummed John as he closed his eyes. Sherlock stopped playing his violin for a moment, looking at John. He smiled for a breif moment before resuming his playing.

"Yes John. It is quite nice."

Chapter Text

    It was a bright sunny day when Martin walked into the dinning hall of hogwarts. On either side of him were new students as well. They walked up to the podium and stood beneeth it waiting for their name to be called. 
"Martin Freeman!" One of the teachers called, making him step forward and sit on the stool. As he sat he looked around the room, his eyes landing on a boy sitting with th Gryphendoors. He was about his height, dark hair, round glasses, and a lightning scar on his head. The boy smiled and nodded to Martin as the hat was placed on his head. The hat barily was placed on his head before the hat called out: 
"Gryffindor!" 
The Gryffindor table cheered as he walked over and sat next to the dark haired boy. 
"The name is Harry Potter, but you can call me Harry." He said, introducing himself.
"What the fuck am I doing here?" Martin said.
"Language," Ron added. 
"Well I'm a grown man sitting with a bunch of 13 year olds. Doesn't that seem weird?" he said.
"He's right, it is weird," Hermione said.
"How did you get here Martin?" Harry asked.
"MY letter of course," 
"Okay....." Hermione tried.
"Have the professors noticed that you're old?" Ron asked.
"Ron that's rude," Harry said

"Oh, perhaps he showed signs of magic later in life! You know about those magical late-bloomers. There's a whole chapter about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione said excitedly. "I've never met a real one before... you are a magical late-bloomer, aren't you?"
"Um, no..." Martin replied, "I'm actually perfectly magical, thank you. I've actually been through Hogwarts before? I have no idea what's going on."
Hermione's eyebrows flew off her face. "Wait, when??? What year???"
"Uhhhhh, 3069? What year is it now?"
The trio gasped. "YOU'RE FROM THE FUTURE!!!!!!" They screamed. 
"And... and Harry Potter, you said your name was?" Martin asked, and Harry nodded.
"I seem to remember... one of my ancestors was named Potter-"
"I'M YOUR ANCESTOR?!?!?!?"
"Uh, yeah dude. It's like, totally fin-"
"Can we go back to the part where you're from the future???" Hermione said.

Martin ignored her.

"And I seem to remember...the last name was... Ah yes, Malfoy-Potter! That was my ancestor!!!!"
"DRACOOOOOO??!?!??!?" Harry passed out.

Chapter Text

    Mrs. Hudson was peacefully making a cup of tea when she heard a crash on the window, followed by an indignant "MYYYY FAAAAAATHER WOULD NEVER STAND FOR THIS!!!!!!"
"Whatever could that be?" she wondered quietly to herself, still stirring her tea. She was quickly answered by a human form crashing through the ceiling, forming a hole in the roof. 

    The person stood up, brushing himself off and huffing in an annoyed way. He had shiny platinum-blonde hair and demanded "Did you do this to me? Who did this to me? Did someone Apparate me? Is this a kidnapping? Because my rich family has more than enough to pay for ransom!"

    Mrs. Hudson shook her head and looked at the hole that was now in the ceiling then to the blond haired boy.
"Now now, lets calm down shall we? I'll get you a cup of tea while you rest your legs, concidering you just fell though my ceiling." She hummed while walking to the kitchen. Malfoy scoffed and just stood there, crossing his arms. 
"My father will hear about this!" He huffed. Mrs. Hudsen just nodded as she warmed up some tea. 
"You've already said that dear."

    Mrs. Hudson brought him his tea. He didn't take it.
"Well how do I know it's not poison?" Malfoy asked.
"Why would it be poisoned dearest?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"That's exactly what someone who poisoned the drink would say!" He yelled, knocking the cup onto the floor.
"That was my mothers!" 
Draco ran down the stairs and started out the door when Sherlock walked in, noticed him, and picked him up by the back of his shirt. 
Mrs. Hudson ran down the steps, as fast as an old lady could.
"He broke my mother's cup,"
"Yeah but who is he??" 
"I don't know!"
"MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!!"
"He keeps saying that," Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes. Sherlock opened the door and tossed the child out into the street. 
John walked inside. 
"WHY THE HELL DID YOU THROW A KID OUT ONTO THE PAVEMENT?" He screamed. Mrs. Hudson couldn't help but laugh.
"I don't like that boy,"

Chapter Text

Sherlock walked into his flat. As he walked up the stairs, he heard noises. He looked confused as he opened the door to see John making out with a dude. He quickly pulled away and looked up at Sherlock.
  "Sherlock..." John said in utter shock.
  "John," he replied, looking down at the man on their couch.
  "Who is that?"
  The mystery man turned around and it was Pedro Pascal. Sherlock, of course, had no idea who that was. 
  "Sherlock it's not what it looks like,"
  "I don't believe you," Sherlock said simply.
  "You're not going to tell Mary about this are you?"
  "Let me get this straight. You like men, we've lived together for years, you never kissed me, and your only issue is that I might tell your girlfriend? Who I also don't like by the way,"
   "Well when you put it that way, it does sound wrong..." John muttered turning away from Sherlock and to Pedro. Pedro looked very uncomfortable with the current situation. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but Pedro intervened. 
   "Before you say anything, I didn't know John was in a relationship. Sorry doesn't really do much, but I'm sorry." He said, holding his hands up in a "I surrender" type of motion. 
   "Woah Sherlock and I aren't in a relationship-" John stammered looking between the two men. Sherlock just glared at the two of them, crossing his arms. 
   "Whatever. It's not like I pinned for you ever since the first time we met or anything, like any of it matters now that you've made out with a mustached sexy man." Sherlock huffed.
   “He is sexy!!” Grinned John. “Wait- wait i didn’t mean it like that-“ Sherlock stormed out of the flat without hearing another word.

John was hot on his heels. “Please Sherlock, I didn’t know you liked me that way. Honest! Really i thought you just thought of us as companions really.”
“I mean, companionship is pretty romantic tbh” Pedro chimed in.

The detectives gaped at him.
“Just saying. and like, John, girl, you have a girlfriend too?? Get it together you’re a mess!”
“Ohh… yeah… I should tell Mary…” John put his head in his hands, despite this being entirely the consequence of his own actions.
“Oh” Sherlock said, “You didn’t know? Mary is a lesbian, actually. she told me she was gonna break up with you tonight. Though I can’t imagine she’s thrilled about you cheating on her either.”
“Huh!” Pedro said. “That works out nicely! no hard feelings then! Sherlock, I can tell john loves you from how he looks at you.”
“Thanks… you’re pretty hot too.” so

Chapter Text

Mr. Darcy walked into the high school with a stern face. He had no clue why on earth he was here, in a high school who knows how far into the future. Teens everywhere were wearing scandalous clothing and being very close to one another. 
Suddenly there was a commotion and Mr. Darcy turned around to find a boy wearing a weird red shirt with no sleeves, with the word "WildCats" on the front and the number 14.
The 14 kid was looking guilty next to a shattered vase and a basketball laying on the floor. “Ummmmm… that totally wasn’t me Mr. Darcy, trust!”

“I find that incredibly hard to believe, young man. Sweep up the mess and report to the dean’s office, I'm writing you a referral,” said Darcy. what was going on??? What was he saying?? was he some sort of tutor??

“Ughh not a referral</3” said 14. he grabbed a dustpan from the closet and cleaned up the glass sadly. (a/n i imagine they’re in a classroom)
Okay, um seriously? What was going on??? Who was this kid? Why was he here? “You, young man, what’s your name? who am i to you?”
“Uhhhhhhhhh” 14 responded “I'm Troy? Troy bolton? Your student? You’re my teacher? Remember?????”
"I don't teach. I own an estate,"
  "Cool bro,"
  Mr. Darcy furrowed his brows at the young man. 
  "I play basketball," Troy said, picking up the ball and showing him.
  "Here follow me,"
  Mr. Darcy followed the young man into a huge arena with two hoops. They were the only ones in the room. 
  "Do you play?" Troy asked.
  "Child, I don't even know what this is,"
  "Oh right. They probably don't have this over in London or whatever,"
  "I'm not from London I'm from Pemberley,"
  "What country is that?" Troy asked as he threw the ball at the hoop.
  "It's not- never-mind," 
  The basketball swished through the net and Troy ran to get it. He passed it to Mr. Darcy, who caught it, and stared blankly.
  "What am I to do with this?" He wondered as he examined it.
  "Throw it. Try to hit this white square,"
  Mr. Darcy didn't know why he was listening to this insulin child. But he did as he said. The ball hit the corner of the box and fell through the net.
  "You did it!" Troy yelled as he caught the ball.
  "That's. Amazing. Yes.." he said sarcastically.

Chapter Text

Crowley was cooking in the bookstore, chopping up vegetables to add to a soup. okay it’s pretty weird that there’s a kitchen in the bookstore, but Crowley miracled it in when he became a fan of the great British bake off why not. Aziraphale was away getting some rare books from a dealer, and Crowley was preparing dinner.
   “ack!” he exclaimed when he sliced open his finger and bled all over the tomatoes. despite being an occult being, it wouldn’t heal up, so Crowley didn’t know what to do but to go to the doctor.
When he and Aziraphale arrived they were greeted by a tall American doctor with blonde hair. He smiled at the two of them. Crowley instantly knew that this man was not a man at all. He wiggled uncomfortably in his seat.
  He looked up at Aziraphale, who was standing next to him. Aziraphale had a look of concern on his face.
  "My name is Carlisle Cullen. I'll be your doctor today. What's the problem?" 
  "I cut my finger,"
  "You're a vampire,"
  Crowley and Aziraphale said at the same time. Carlisle stared at Aziraphale.
  "Vampire?" Carlisle asked.
  "Aziraphale. It's probably rude to assume someone is a vampire,"
  "Well. I am a vampire. But I don't suck blood and I am licensed to be a doctor,"
  Carlisle said as he picked up Crowley's hand and examined his hurt finger.
   "How can you be a vampire and not suck blood." Crowley huffed as he glared at the         "doctor" examining his finger. Aziraphale nudged Crowley's side to remind him to be nice.
   "Simple, I am vegetarian." Carlisle said simply, taking out a bandaid from his pocket and putting it on Crowley's finger. 
   "That should be it, the cut was nothing too bad thankfully. Just don't stretch it or use it for much or it'll start bleeding again." The vampire said again before in a flash of light, he was gone. Crowley blinked as he looked in the direction the so called vampire went off in. 
   "Well that was a confusing interaction." Aziraphale hummed with a confused look on his face. Crowley scoffed and turned around toward the back of the bookshop. 
   "Oh well, come on Angel, we have stuff to do." He said, snapping his fingers and glasses of wine appeared out of no where. 
   "Ah, why yes we do." Aziraphale said, a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

     One star wars day, in the middle of nowhere, Princess Leia while walking through a random planet came upon a weird man. Weirder than the usual men she comes across surprisingly. 

  He was pale, slicked back black hair, and..pointy teeth? How odd. 

When she approached him he hissed at her and pulled his cape in front of his eyes and slunk back deeper into the shadows of the trees. She just raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. 

  "Well, you're dramatic." She almost laughed, eyeing the strange man. The man eyed her and just hissed again.

Leia was just about to ignore him when a mist surrounded her and three women materialized. They had pointed teeth like the man but were waaaay hotter than him. Though they seemed dangerous, Leia was fully confident in her ability to defend herself. She laid her hand at the blaster on her hip but asked the women with interest,

  “Soooooo you come here often?” She cursed herself for the awful pickup line.

  “Well, this is actually the woods outside our castle…” The woman with long dark hair said. “You wanna come in the castle with us?” She eyed the three women and then the strange pale man. This was getting weird.

  "What do you want from me?" Leia asked. The women looked at each other and then Dracula laughed. 

  "5-way?" One of the women asked. Leia's eye brows shot up in surprise.
 
  "Obviously. I thought you'd never ask," Leia said, beginning to follow them out of the woods.
 
  "Leia! What the fuck! We're married!" Han screamed. Honestly Leia forgot Han was there... she just kept going anyways though.

Chapter Text

     Pedro waltzed onto the red carpet of the golden globes, low key feeling himself in his awesome suit. He posed for the paparazzi and thought he saw a familiar face in the crowd, but was blinded by a camera flash. When he tried to look closer, he couldn’t locate them again. He felt shaken but still hot (the suit was like rly well tailored and he was very snatched).

Pedro walked into the Awards ceremony and sat down at his table, his eyes lingering around the room.
  "Looking for someone?"
  A man put his hand on his Pedro's shoulder.
  Pedro looked up at the man, it was Harry.
  He felt himself freeze. That's who he was looking for. Why did he feel so anxious all of a sudden? He kept a cool demeanor as he stared at Harry. His gaze unwavering.
  "Not at all," He replied simply.
  "Aw," Harry's hand slipped off of his shoulder, "that's disappointing,"
  "Why are you here?"
  Pedro asked, grabbing his glass of Tequila and taking a sip.
  "Support. Why are you here? You weren't nominated,"
  "Maybe not, but my movie was," Pedro responded.
They stared at each other. Harry's eyes were Pedro's favorite part of his appearance. Now, they looked conflicted. Like he wanted to say something, like he was holding back. But what was he holding back? Pedro tore his eyes from Harry, taking another sip of his drink as he tried to calm his nerves. 

  "Pedro I..uhm.." Harry started, shifting nervously from one foot to another. Pedro froze with his glass to his mouth, his lips slightly parted as he glanced over his glass at Harry's sea foam gaze. Suddenly Pedro felt his heart beat wildly in his chest and mouth went dry. His gut told him what he knew he wanted to hear, what he knew Harry was about to tell him. But he didn't know if he wanted to actually hear it from the beautiful man.

And for another long moment Harry's gaze just locked onto Pedros, his eyes searching Pedro's as if trying to find a glimpse of something he wasn't saying. 

"Yes, Harry..?" Pedro murmured, taking the glass away from his lips. Harry Styles's Adam's Apple bobbed up and down and right before he was about to speak a voice interrupted him, the Golden globes was about to start. Harry looked disappointed and shook his head. 

"Never mind Pedro. Sorry."

Chapter Text

     Sherlock was walking through a museum through the dead of night. It was pitch black except for the light streaming in from nearby exhibits. It was silent. The only sound was from Sherlock's expensive shoes hitting the ground. He was investigating the murder of a night guard from the museum. 
 
As Sherlock continued his investigation, he felt a sharp pain in his cheek. 
  "Ow," He cursed and realized that the pain lingered. He pulled something out of his perfect cheekbones and examined it. A tiny arrow? Confused, he looked around and saw movement from the Roman exhibit. His eyes widened in confusion as he took a step forward to see a tiny man with a bow raised. From his outfit, Sherlock assumed he was a general.
  "The fuck?" Sherlock asked.
"Who are you to be intruding on Roman land?" The roman general demanded, jabbing his sword in Sherlock's direction as tiny soldiers began to flank the detective. Sherlock almost stumbled back into the tiny men but stopped as small shrieks reached his ears. 

What WERE these things? How were they so...small?

Sherlock knelt down in front of the Roman exhibit, his eyes narrowing to try and get a better look at the things he was seeing.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes, I am investigating the murder of the night guard in this museum." He said a matter-of-factly. The tiny Roman general was quiet for a moment before he sheathed his sword and crossed his arms.
"Well there's no murderer here." He huffed.
“You’re sure?” Sherlock said. “There’s like , a whole bloodstain over there. There’s an actual crime scene.”
“…nuh uh” said the tiny stabby man.

Sherlock was immediately on his guard. this kind of suspicious behavior was indicative of lying.
Would you care to tell me what you were doing last night at 11:32 pm?” Sherlock asked.
“You know what, i’ll raise you one better! I’ll give you a demonstration!!! Charge!!!” All at once, Sherlock was bombarded with stabbing pains all over his legs. more tiny romans were attacking him. however, one managed a good hit which killed him! Sherlock died

Chapter Text

     "Never mind Pedro. Sorry." Harry slid into the seat next to Pedro.
Pedro couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, even though he didn’t quite know why. It’s not like Harry reciprocated his feelings anyway.

He knew this from a night they once shared at a hotel, where they were together for a project. Harry had looked so pretty in the moonlight and the stars were beautiful, but had run when Pedro had leaned in to kiss him.

Pedro shook his head, clearing his thoughts of that dreadful night and shoving down all the remaining feelings left in his heart. He forced a smile and raised his glass in understanding. 

  "No problem, Harry. Besides, better find out who won awards, right?" Pedro said, forcing a smile as he turned his attention back to the giant stage. 

As all the announcements went on, Pedro could barely even pay attention to who was speaking. Who even was speaking? All he could pay attention to was the prickling at the back of his neck as he felt Harry's sea foam gaze on him and it took every ounce of Pedro's body to not turn around and just kiss the man there and then. 

But he couldn't. Harry didn't love him back. And besides, they were being televised and kissing on screen would cause controversy.

After awhile, Pedro lost in his category. He decided to use the bathroom to clear his mind. 

He was wearing makeup, but he really didn't care. Splashing his face with water, he grabbed a towel and patted himself off. He splashed his face again and let the water drip, trying to cool himself down and to stop his anxiety from getting the better of him.

As he stood motionless, the door to the men's bathroom suddenly opened and closed. Before he could dry himself and look up, he felt someone grab the lapels of his suit quite aggressively. 

Suddenly, his lips connected with someone else's. He opened his eyes, the water still falling down his face and dripping onto... Harry's? By instinct, he grabbed Harry's hips as they moved their lips against each other's. Pedro and Harry carefully pulled away.
  "Harry..." Pedro said cautiously.
  "You're all wet," Harry interrupted, and Pedro couldn't help but laugh a little as they looked at each other.
  "How long have you known?" Pedro wondered, their faces mere inches apart.
  "Since we first spoke,"
Pedro nodded a little. It was silent.

Chapter Text

It was a dark and stormy night. Two men with fedoras and whips faced each other, glaring into each other's eyes with hate.

"Indiana Jones, we meet again." Whiskey greeted, his grip on his whip tightening as he glowered at the adventurer. Indi just scoffed, rolling his eyes before taking a step towards the agent.
"I told you what would happen if we met again, agent. And yet somehow you still try and follow me around." Dr. Jones growled.
Whiskey's grip tightened on his lasso.
"What are you doin' here?" Whiskey asked.
"Searching for an artifact," Indi replied calmly.
"Excuse me for saying so, but I don't think you can beat me. Or," Whiskey looked out at the canyon they were standing over, "all of those Nazis,"
Indi raised an eyebrow.
"I'm fine,"He responded cooly.
"Indiana. Let me help you. Why don't you ever let anyone help you??" Whiskey asked, taking a step forward. Upon instinct, Indiana grabbed his whip and thrusted his arm forward. A loud crack happened and then the whip was around Whiskey's neck.
"Indiana, you don't want to do this," Whiskey's hands shot up to the whip, trying to get it away from his neck.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Indiana said, sounding genuine. Whiskey grabbed his lasso and Indiana's eyes widened.
He lassoed the man's middle and brought him down to the ground, causing him to drop the whip not before it hooked on Whiskey, though, which caught him off balance, and he fell on top of Indiana. even worse, Whiskey’s face crashed onto Indi’s, ending with their mouths pressed together.

Even though they were technically fighting, neither of them could pull away. Instead, they found themselves locked in a deep kiss. Indi’s hands threaded through whiskey’s hair, knocking off his hat.

The night ended pretty well for them both, even if they did never kill those Nazi's.

Chapter Text

The Doctor was in the 80s today, as he’d stopped some alien with mid-level power who was obsessed with David Bowie. The Doctor liked David Bowie too tbh. They might travel to a concert sometime. Anyway, The Doctor was stepping into a diner. There was barely any seating left, so they sat down at the bar next to a handsome stranger in aviator sunglasses.
"Hey," Maverick said, noticing that The Doctor was staring at him. He was a tall skinny man with brown hair in a greaser style.
"Sorry. You just look familiar," The Doctor suddenly realized that Top Gun was based off of a true story. Maverick was real???? The Doctor was so surprised.
"What is it?" Maverick looked confused.
"Do you fly planes?" The Doctor asked.
"Yes..." Maverick said slowly.
"How did you?"
"I noticed your aviator wings and I just assumed," The Doctor said.
"Good assumption," Maverick said, taking a sip of his black coffee.
The Doctor ordered a tea and waited. He and the man sat in silence.

After a while, and once The Doctor got his tea and the aviator his beer, the man with the aviator wings turned to the doctor. 
"So, how many missions have you gone on?" The Doctor asked as he took a sip of his tea. The aviator got a gleam in his eyes as the doctor asked that question and a grin spread on his lips. 
"Enough to scare a few bogies away from us and enough to have a couple kills." He hummed. The Doctor raised an eyebrow as if he was surprised, even though in reality he was not. He'd seen Top Gun before, he knew how this all went. Sadly, he could not interfere. Just as The Doctor was about to say something a man with a mustache came by and put a hand on Maverick's shoulder.
"Ready to go Mav?"
Mav smiled and nodded. "Yep! Nice to meet you stranger." The Doctor just nodded.
"You too Maverick."

Chapter Text

     One day when Crowley was in the book store trying to sort some books for his angel, a ding from the door sounded signifying that someone had entered. 

Crowley looked up from his books he was sorting to see who came in. When he spotted them they were an..interesting pair? Def not English. One was a very handsome man with dark hair and the other was a shorter man with lighter curly hair and sea foam eyes.

Crowley sensed a… queer… vibe from them. Reminded him a little of himself, actually. 

They ducked behind bookshelves, glancing around, seemingly trying to make sure they were alone. Crowley decided he should probably speak up.
  “Welcome, I guess, even though you’re not really supposed to buy anything and i'm not supposed to sell anything or i’ll get in a lot of trouble… yeah, anyway, you can look around if you want.”

Pedro offered him a slight smile.
  "Thanks," His American accent immediately became apparent. Pedro was slightly weirded out by what the man had said. No buying books? He didn't really care, he was just here for Harry. It had been a week since the golden globes and he and Harry had been hanging out a lot in private. Well they hung out in public too, but just as friends.
Harry began looking through books and reading first pages. He watched as he scanned the books, he looked so handsome, and aesthetic, which was really important to him. 

Pedro put a hand on Harry's lower back as he scanned through all of Aziraphale's classic books.
Crowley was carefully observing them, making sure all of his Angel's books were where they were found and making certain that the pop singer wouldn't steal any of them. Famous people are shady characters.
It was actually interesting, the only reason Crowley recognized Harry was because Crowley had somehow convinced fangirls that he and his friend Louis Tomlinson would be a good couple. That's how Larry fanfictions started. Crowley also might have had something to do with the one direction adoption fanfictions, but that was just for fun.

Chapter Text

     No one can know, but Wolverine's favorite artist is Chappell Roan. He couldn't tell anyone and he only listened to her when he was alone. 
One day, Logan was walking around the X-men school (idk) and Deadpool ran up to him with a smile on his face.
  "What?" Wolverine asked, his voice hoarse.
  "I have a little surprise for you," Deadpool smiled wider.
  "I don't care," He said simply as he began to walk away from him. Deadpool jumped on him from behind with two slips of paper in his hand.
  "Happy birthday buddy!" He said happily, presenting him with Chappell Roan tickets Wolverine froze, he couldn't react. Wade smiled.
  "Get off of me," Logan said,
  "Who even is Chappell Roan?" Deadpool laughed.
  "Your favorite artist? Bro I saw your Spotify wrapped," Deadpool replied. Wolverine froze and glared at Deadpool as he clung to his back before shaking his head with a scoff.
  "You and your weird stalking tactics I swear.." He grumbled before an awkward grin spread on his face.
  "I hate to say it, but thank you Wade." Wolverine said. Deadpool grinned beanth his helmet and let out a laugh.
  "I made Wolverine grateful! Ha!"

A month later, they were together at Chappell’s show. They got the best tickets, which Logan couldn’t even figure out how since wade was kind of broke. He wouldn’t ask. Logan was trying to stay nonchalant, but he liked Chappell too much. Her joy and slayfulness was infectious and Logan felt himself singing along to pink pony club, his favorite.
  “Sorry for dragging you here,” he glanced at wade. “I know you don’t listen to her.” Wade was smiling.
  “I'm just happy to see you happy. Also, she’s pretty cool. I might’ve been sleeping on her tbh”

  “You totally have been. I can’t believe it took a whole live performance to convince you.” They were smiling together. It was a beautiful night.