#happy ficlet month!!!!

[limerental]

ficletvember 2023 - day 1

dijsktra/isengrim modern au

Arriving for a business meeting to a dance club owned by the most powerful man in the city, Dandelion is surprised to met at the door to the apartments above the club by a wanted terrorist in a borrowed silk robe.

He does not allow himself more than a moment's distraction in the bustle of the dance floor.

It's karaoke night, the tone-deaf wail of a tipsy queen in a feather boa pushing whines of feedback through the speakers as the crowd whoops and applauds. 

He could have taken the stairs past the alleyway out front and bypassed all the noise and color of the club to ring the buzzer at the security grate upstairs. 

But this way, no one thinks twice about seeing him there. He's in his element, a common sight in the club even when he's not here on business. No one wonders what message is being delivered to the man who lives upstairs. 

Dandelion kisses the offered hand of a drag queen, apologizing profusely as he turns down a drink, and then he climbs the stairs to the shadowy VIP lounge.

It's empty, not a soul occupying the plush couch or sleek bar.

Often, he meets Sigismund Dijkstra here, where they might talk through details for hours, the immense man never showing a sign of drunkenness despite the ever-present glass of scotch gripped in one big hand.

A quiet tension hangs over the city of Novigrad, over all of Redania.

Dandelion rarely understands the full context of the messages he delivers, often in code picked up by other contacts that cannot get close to Dijkstra without arousing suspicion, but he knows that something may be put in motion soon.

Something he wants no part of, but it's too late now.

A bouncer motions upward with a jerk of his chin. 

At the door beyond the lounge, he shakes off the glitter, tries to kiss the hand of the bouncer as well and earns a stern glare for his trouble.

A spiral stairwell curves upward, and at the top, Dandelion knocks at a black door. He itches to go back down the stairs and join the evening revellers. He hopes this meeting is brief and simple.

Those hopes are immediately dashed, when it's not Dijkstra who opens the door, but an elf in a patterened, silk robe. 

"Ah," says Dandelion, seeing that the elf is barefoot, robe clutched closed at the front rather than tied and far too large for the slim frame, slipping off one shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, I can come back–"

"Get in here," says the elf, his voice a cold rasp. "You were meant to arrive an hour ago."

"I thought I had a tail," Dandelion explains, "so I went a few stops beyond the usual but of course, forgot about the construction that way and–"

When he hurries inside and up the stairs into the tastefully-decorated vestibule, the light warms across the high ceilings, and for the first time, he sees the scarred horror of the elf's disfigured face.

"Oh," he breathes, recognizing him at once. From somber news bulletins of deadly terrorists. "You're–"

"Faoiltiarna," says the elf, disarming smile twisting his ugly scars.

For a moment as Dandelion follows meekly after him, he almost forgets the details that had made him assume the elf was here for something far from business.

Almost forgets.

Faoiltiarna's bare neck is bruised with love bites. His loose hair is atypical of elves, mussed as though big hands have been running through it.

A smarter man would leave some mysteries lie. Though even a fool could guess what his arrival had interrupted.

It's curious.

In all the time he's known the man, even before hard times pressed him into doing this work for his old friend, Dandelion has never known Dijkstra to have casual affairs. Or serious ones, besides whatever strange and messy entanglement had gone on between him and Philippa Eilhart.

"Did you have a meeting with Dijkstra as well?" he asks, pretending at foolishness. 

"You could say that," says Faoiltiarna as he lets him into a fire-warmed study. "He'll be right with you. Don't snoop."

Dandelion snoops through the cluttered mahogany bookcases and feels up every bronze statue and light fixture for hidden passageways. He finds only that a lot of Dijkstra's knickknacks are in need of a dusting and that he has a very boring collection of almanacs, probably bought just to fill the ample shelves.

"You're late," grumbles a deep voice from a hidden doorway beyond a revolving staircase, and Dandelion curses. Sigismund Dijkstra is as huge and impressive as always, seeming far too large for the room and the expensive-looking leather armchair he sinks into. 

He's dressed in his usual loose linen houseclothes, open collar baring the gold chain that sits amidst the dark hair at his breastbone. He shows no sign of disgruntlement over the interruption of whatever lusty affair he'd clearly been up to with Faoiltiarna. Something impromptu, Dandelion suspects. He'd had to compose himself before answering the door. Highly out of character. Strange. 

Dijkstra has his big, meaty fingers in all sorts of unseemly layers of the city's underground, but non-human liberation? Collusion with the anarchist Scoia'tael? He's never shown any inclination to care about their efforts.

A smarter man would fail to address it.

"I can come back later," says Dandelion loudly. "If you and Faoiltiarna wish to–"

"Who?" asks Dijkstra as he sits back and lights a cigar in quick puffs. A blue haze of cigar smoke hangs around him and plumes to the dark ceiling. He does not offer a cigar to Dandelion and also does not move to pour him a glass of scotch from the carafe at his elbow.

"I suppose I should be flattered," Dandelion continues. "You must trust me more than I thought. Colluding with terrorists now, Sigi? If that's what they're calling it these days. Colluding all over this apartment, I assume."

"I trust that you're an imbecile," says Dijkstra slowly. "No one would believe you. You could call the authorities the moment you left here, and there'd not be a single sign of anyone's presence but my own."

"Anyone could have opened the door and seen–"

"But no one did. To business, Dandelion."

He gets to business. The small scraps of coded information he passes on seem hardly worth the trouble, but Dijkstra looks pleased as they chat. As pleased as the large man ever does.

To Dandelion's surprise, Faoiltiarna joins them after a while, looking far more imposing dressed in black with dark hair slicked into a long plait. He has the willowy figure typical of elves, tall and lithe, and maybe would have been a beauty if not for the ruined scowl of his face.

What a strange companion he makes to the fat and oafish-seeming human whose chair he leans against. How fascinating to see the easy touch of Dijkstra's big hand resting on Faoiltiarna's waist.

Dandelion is not a fool. He knows that by no accident is he being allowed to see this. It's either some test of his loyalty, of discretion, or a quiet and looming threat.

He knows, if he were to leave this room intent on calling in a sighting of an anarchist wanted in several countries for deadly acts of terrorism, he would find his cell service unavailable.

Or worse.

The scene appears almost domestic and quaint. The gold of Faoltiarna's dangling earrings catch the light as he plays a good little housewife and pours Dijkstra's a few fingers of scotch from the brimming caraffe. Dijkstra's lips turn up a moment to brush above the folded collar of his turtleneck.

Even so, Dandelion knows what's left of him could be discovered tomorrow in a dumpster somewhere in town, body unrecognizable.

Faoiltiarna does not cross the room to offer a drink to Dandelion, a hand sneaking onto Dijkstra's broad thigh, which is as good a dismissal as any. 

"Right," says Dandelion, leaping up. "I hope you fellows have a good evening. There's a lady downstairs I've promised a drink."

"I'll be in touch," says Dijkstra in a voice dark and dangerous. "One way or another."

"Understood! Understood. You can trust me implicitly." 

Dijkstra's right after all. Who would believe him? If word happens to get out of this strange union, these two powerful individuals will know exactly who to pin the blame on.

Well, his debts to this man are nearly paid off. Something long-anticipated and deviously planned is about to happen in Tretogor, he suspects, and then it won't matter what he knows or doesn't know about the love life of the most powerful man in the city.

Perhaps that's wishful thinking.

He steals one last glance at the pair leaning close together in the armchair. They seem to have already forgotten his lingering presence to return to what had been interrupted, Faoiltiarna toying with the gold chain that falls across Dijkstra's breast, Dijkstra's big hand swallowing the curve of his lean waist.

The anarchist's eyes meet Dandelion's as he lingers in the doorway, even as he brushes the perpetual sneer of his scarred mouth against the human's bald skull. The look is a clear challenge. I dare you to say a word. See what happens. See how many pieces they find you in. If you are found at all.

Dandelion salutes cheerily, winking to hide his cold thrill of fear, then closes the door of the study and disappears to the noise and simplicity of the club below.

[metalmiez]

Ineffable Husbands, happy together 🖤🤍

„C‘mere, silly angel!“ Crowley grumbled and pulled Aziraphale in a hug that included arms and legs fully wrapped around Aziraphale‘s body, so there was no chance of escape. The joy over the tiny squealing noise the angel gave off should be illegal. No one, especially not a vicious demon like Crowley, should be so pleased with a noise like this. But he was. He indulged it. As his face snuggled into the soft curve of the angel‘s neck, he heard a sigh of defeat and he grinned devilishly.

Oh, what a good demon he was.

„Are you gonna hold on like this for long, my dearest?“

‚My dearest‘. It still felt off to be adressed like this. It shouldn’t feel so good, but it did. The demon hummed in satisfaction as the angel gave in into the touch and leaned his head against Crowley's temple.

"That's quite nice of you to-"

"'m not nice. Don't even know what this word means"

Aziraphale huffed in amusement, wriggled on of his arms free and put his hand on the side of Crowley's face, directly over the tiny snake tattoo that started to tickle in excitement.

"As you say so, darling"

Another pet name. If he had less control over his body, he'd probably blush.

"Grm"

"If you don't mind, I put some water on the boil for a nice cup of tea. So if you let go, this would be very demonic of you", the angel squirmed after some moments of embracing in silence. A little grumble escaped the demon's throat as he lifted his head. Oh, the smug idiot. Aziraphale looked at him like the hundreds of times he tried to politely send the demon away if he got one of 'the really good ones'-book he wanted to read.

Instead of letting go, Crowley rolled his eyes and pressed his lips against the angels soft cheek, lingered in the motion as long as possible, listening to his angel’s silly giggle about the sudden affection. He was happy. He really was.

Everything was like it always had to be.

🌈Happy Pride Month, my fellow Queerdos 🌈

To celebrate this occasion, I had to draw our ineffable Idiots, obviously 😂

They need all the love in S3 ❤️

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a joke. they were supposed to be in steve’s backyard with all their friends and family in shitty lawn chairs, holding cans of budweiser and jamming to whatever song eddie was in the mood for that day blasting through the speakers. steve was supposed to be in front of them all in a tuxedo t-shirt and powder blue dress pants, flowers in his hair that had been teased to high heaven and dark black sunglasses to keep out the bright sun. that’s how they had planned it all those years ago when they’d been high and drunk and young and in love.

but somehow instead, the yard is full of flowers and benches that hopper and wayne put together with spare wood for everyone to sit on and there’s an archway at the end of the aisle and soft acoustic songs spilling gently out of the speakers. steve’s still at the front, that was always supposed to happen, but this time he’s wearing an actual tux, light cream with a boutonnière and everything, and his hair is pushed back just so. there’s no flowers in his hair and no sunglasses but it’s cloudy enough of a day where he doesn’t really need them anyway.

they weren't even supposed to do this. there wasn't supposed to be a grand entrance and a walk down the aisle, no flower girls or ring bearers or anything remotely traditional. but what started off as, "well, i wouldn't mind walking down the aisle," and "i think exchanging rings would be cool," and "who cares if it isn't legal, i'm going to marry you anyway damnit," turned into this beautiful day of friends and family and love.

robin’s standing beside him in a tux of her own, pinstripe grey donning a pocket boutonnière that matches nancy’s bouquet, with a few notecards in her hands. and speaking of nancy, she’s heading down the aisle in a flowing dress, and when her eyes catch robin’s, she crinkles her nose before blowing her a kiss. she stands opposite of steve as eddie's not-quite-bridesmaid and grips her bouquet tightly, her eyes never leaving robin's.

and then there's dustin. he's in a tux that matches steve's and he has his curls pushed back with probably too much gel and a tie that suzie got him for their 3rd anniversary. the best thing he's sporting, though, is the smile on his face and the ring box in his hand and the joy in his eyes as he looks out at the crowd. having him there as best man and smelling the cheap cologne he wears so he seems more grown up calms steve's ever beating heart enough to where he doesn't think he'll throw up from nerves anymore.

all of their loved ones are surrounding them in clothes steve’s never seen before but he couldn’t care at all what they’re wearing because they’re all smiling wide and bright at him. he catches himself rocking back and forth on his feet so he shakes out his hands and holds them behind his back to distract himself. his stomach is rolling with waves or butterflies and when he catches joyce's eye in the front row, she mimes taking in a deep breath which he instantly copies. the soft grin she sends in return tells him that he thinks it could actually work to settle him. mothers have that healing way about them.

he’s never been good with weddings, always fidgeting in a too tight suit his mom picked out, but he never thought he’d be this antsy at his own.

steve's just about to give up and sprint down the aisle to get eddie so they can run away together and leave nerves and or butterflies behind him, but then the music stops. he sees lucas changing out the tapes quickly, giving a thumbs up to mike who throws one to will who runs back behind the shed to where he knows eddie is waiting and when will pops his head back out to run back to his seat, it hits him.

he's getting married.

steve doesn't have time to think about it anymore than he already has been for the last 8 years because eddie's coming around the corner of the shed.

'here comes the sun' is playing out over the speakers, soft and perfect, and eddie's smiling, wide and beautiful, and steve can't help but mirror it back to him. the clouds overhead seem to hear them, hear the song and hear their hearts beating in time with each other, because as soon as eddie gets to the aisle, bright warm rays of sunlight peak out and make the rhinestones he demanded line the lapels of his own black tux shine like real diamonds.

steve stops breathing. he swears he does, and he knows his family are all feeling the same way. he can hear a few gasps, hears joyce muttering what she thinks is a silent, "oh my god," in hop's ear, and watches how wayne stands up just a bit straighter from his front row seat.

eddie glides down the aisle like the drama king he is, soaking in the looks from everyone they care about and soaking in the sun that seems to come out only for him. it's like the sun knows he's a star, too, and wants to come out to be with one of it's own. eddie's always been sunshine and starlight and a blinding thing to look at and take in. he's the light, steve's the moth, and a few clouds on their wedding day could never change it.

"well, that was insanely good timing," eddie whispers to steve once he reaches him. his grin softens and he brings up a hand to wipe gently at the tear tracks on steve's cheeks. "hi, baby."

and steve can do nothing but choke out a laugh, catching eddie's hand in his own so he press a kiss to his palm. he thinks he can feel eddie's heartbeat against his lips and, even if it's his brain playing tricks on him, he likes the sentiment that it brings. "i love you so fucking much."

it's eddie's turn to get teary-eyed and the sun glints off the tears that fall down his cheek before heading back behind the clouds, dotting quick-to-fade sparkles on his face like a wedding present.

steve kisses him. he can't help it. it's nothing but a fast press of lips, watery smile to watery smile, and everyone is cheering except for robin.

"hey! it's not time for that yet," she says with a pretend scowl, arms pressing to each of their chests to keep them apart. it's enough to leave nancy giggling where she stands behind eddie, her laugh like bells bouncing off of the trees surrounding them. "just give me like ten minutes and we'll have you married and you can kiss all you want then."

steve swears he can hear mike groan at that which cause him to grin which cause eddie to grin back and then they're holding hands like it's the only way to get through the next ten minutes. and it might just be the only way to get through it. knowing them, if they didn't hold on tight, one of them would make a move first and there'd be hands around waists and fingers tangled in hair and robin would hate them forever because she wouldn't get to do her speech.

it's after vows are shared, after rings are on fingers, after kisses are pressed to lips and cheeks and temples and hands and everything else they can quickly reach, that the two of them get some peace. everyone is inside eating snacks and drinking cheap champagne, and it goes unspoken that they're going to take some time for themselves. take some time to bask in their new maybe not-so-legally real but as real as could ever be in their hearts marriage.

they make their way, hand in hand like they've always been meant to do, to a table set up for them. eddie pops a bottle of champagne that they pass back and forth between themselves as they share cheesy smiles and champagne-laced kisses. and it's as they look into each other's eyes, fingers lacing so their rings clink softly against each other, that the sun peaks out to say hello once more.

[gregorovitch-adler]

A Chemical Defect

The mild sunshine in the afternoon hit softly on Sherlock's face, lifting his mood quite a bit. He took in the fresh breeze as he kept walking along the pavement, with John by his side, towards 221, Baker Street.

"How would you define love?" John asked, carrying a grocery bag in his hand to their way home.

Sherlock was carrying the other bag.

The two of them had been out shopping, because it was time they went to the supermarket this week. And because it was a Sunday. Sherlock had oddly felt like accompanying John today, so he did.

They had been talking about what romantic attraction was like, how it felt, etc., when they were shopping. Though what had triggered that topic exactly, Sherlock had no idea.

Sherlock parted his lips and blinked, feeling thrown off by this sudden question. How should he respond?

"How would I know? I'm just a sociopath." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

John shook his head immediately at that. "No, that's not true at all. 'Sociopath' isn't even the correct term. And I know that you feel things." John let out a bitter laugh. "God knows I've personally witnessed you feel it."

They had arrived at their apartment building.

Sherlock turned to look at him with his eyebrows knitted and nose scrunched. "When?"

John turned around to face him too with disbelief in his expressive, blue eyes. "When? Seriously?" He shook his head again and opened the door to get in.

Sherlock followed him, and now they were both climbing the stairs leading to their flat.

Sherlock's hands were trembling, and his heart raced as his stomach churned in horror.

Did John know how Sherlock felt for him? Shit. Now what? How was Sherlock supposed to explain himself? Why did John bring this up today? Was this supposed to be a call-out? Oh no.

They both walked into their flat, closed the door, and John went straight to the kitchen with the bag in his hand.

Sherlock went to the kitchen too. It was dimly-lit with natural sunlight coming from the outside.

The table was a mess from Sherlock's latest experiment. Now John had also spread everything out that they had just bought, adding to the mess even more.

John was arranging everything properly in the fridge.

What was Sherlock to do now? Might as well out with the truth, he thought. It was time.

"Turns out I was in love. With you." Sherlock paused. "I still am," he added, as he set the bag of groceries on the kitchen table. He kept staring at John - whose back was facing him - holding his breath.

You were right, John. You always are.

John stopped in his tracks with a pack of yoghurt in his hand. "Come again?" John placed the pack in the fridge, closed it, and finally looked around at Sherlock.

They were both facing each other now.

"I won't repeat myself, John," he said briskly, bracing himself on the kitchen table, waiting for John's reaction.

"What about The Woman?"

Sherlock's initial reaction was to flinch in self defense. Disappointment followed through shortly.

Here he thought John was talking about the two of them.

The Woman. Why now?

Sherlock closed his eyes as a faint memory of a beautiful face with soft, feminine features showed up.

The violin tune that he had composed was playing in the background in his mind.

Sherlock shook his head and opened his eyes. He took a deep breath and swallowed. "Ancient history," he blurted out.

Truth meant a complete and accurate information about something. He was not going to hide anything from John.

"So, there was a history." John folded his arms across his chest.

Sherlock sighed deeply. "Doesn't matter now."

John slammed one of his hands on the kitchen table. "It matters to me, Sherlock! I've spent ages wondering why you looked so abnormally interested in her when she was practically a stranger - especially when you'd specified that you weren't interested in relationships - and more importantly, where I went wrong if you were interested in romantic entanglements, after all. So, yes. It does matter even now. Very much." His chest was heaving with his face flushed.

Sherlock felt his jaw drop. "John? I never thought you -"

"Yes, you idiot. I feel the same. Have been for ages. So tell me: did you or did you not feel for Irene Adler?"

"I did."

John's face fell and his eyes looked considerably sadder than before, so Sherlock continued hastily, "Doesn't mean I didn't care about you, then. Because I did. A lot.

"And now you're so important to me that if you were to leave this place, right now, I'd feel lost. In the middle of a barren desert." Sherlock swallowed. "I've felt this way about you for ridiculously long. I am in love with you. Is that clear enough, now?" His voice broke with desperation at the last sentence.

John quickly walked up close to Sherlock and grabbed his waist. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his shoulders and sighed. John rested his head against Sherlock's chest and they both fell silent for a few seconds.

John looked up at him with a soft gaze. The amount of sentiments in those eyes was unbelievable. Sherlock was looking at him in wonder.

"Yes, it is," said John, in a voice just above a whisper.

Sherlock placed a hand on John's cheek as he ducked to kiss him. John moved one of his hands from Sherlock's waist to his nape as he kissed him back with abandon.

Sherlock hoped that any feelings of jealousy, disappointment, etc., between him and John would fade away now.

They had each other by their sides. They knew they would handle their future lives better from now on.

*

Prompt: Jealousy by @calaisreno

Tags: @jamielovesjam , @peanitbear , @helloliriels , @topsyturvy-turtely , @gaylilsherlock , @totallysilvergirl , @lisbeth-kk , @keirgreeneyes , @nowiamcoveredinyou , etc.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tags. :)

[hairmetal666]

The high summer sun glints off the lake, illuminating Eddie's dark curls in a golden shine. He plays Hopper's old acoustic, just noodling around with notes and melodies, while Steve watches, transfixed.

He's so beautiful, Steve thinks, before shaking the thought away. He turns from the man at the end of the dock, looking across the yard of Joyce and Hop's lake house. His two kids tumble across the grass with Max and Lucas's toddler on their heels. Max and El weave flower crowns--well, El weaves and Max makes a mess of petals and leaves. Dustin, Erica, Mike, and Lucas cluster around the solid wood picnic table Hop built, arguing about a new d&d update, while Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan sip glasses of lemonade on the porch. Through the wide, plate glass windows that line the back of the house, Steve watches his wife, Joyce, and Argyle bob and weave through the kitchen, while Hop mans the grill a few feet away on the patio.

He looks back to Eddie, whose fingers have stilled on the guitar strings.

"What's up?" Steve asks. It's been twelve years since Eddie almost died saving the world, and he still goes distant. Still slips out of time to another place, another world, that can be hard for the others to reach.

Not this time, though. Eddie glances up, soft smile on his face, one that's rare enough it makes Steve's heart trip. "Working out how to play something," he says.

There's yelling now, from the picnic table, an actual fight broken out, and Steve laughs. "Think we should get up there before someone gets punched?"

Eddie isn't paying attention, though. His head bent intently over the guitar as he strums out a familiar melody that Steve can't quite place. It's slower, he thinks, than the original.

It's so familiar, watching Eddie play. Back when they lived together in Indy, he used to lose entire afternoons to a shared joint and Eddie practicing. It's always transfixing, the movements of his fingers, the light glinting off the shine of his rings; his intensity and precision.

It hits Steve then, what the song is, isn't something he expected Eddie to ever know. Assumed his interest in any member of Nirvana ended in 1994, that he'd find the Foo Fighters hopelessly lame, but Eddie's eyes flash up to catch Steve's as he starts the chorus.

"And I wonder, when I sing along with you, if everything could ever feel this real forever; if anything could be this good again"

The sun is lower in the sky, casting Eddie in bronze, and god, god he's the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen. His stomach twists, goosebumps spreading along his arms.

"The only thing I'll ever ask of you, you've got to promise not to stop when I say when, he sang"

The deep chocolate of Eddie's eyes sparkle with softness and care and, and--

Realization hits.

Steve loves him.

"Breath out, so I can breath you in, hold you in"

Has always loved him. Every second, every moment.

His heart trips, doubles. He doesn't understand how he missed it, that it's always been Eddie.

It crashes over him, a cascade of understanding, of unquestioned longing. Years, years have gone by without him recognizing the feelings for what they are. And now, now--

His wife is in the kitchen with Joyce and Argyle, and their two kids play on the lawn with Max and Lucas's toddler.

And he's been hopelessly in love with his best friend since 1986, when he first realized his entire world revolved around Eddie Munson's laugh, the specific smile he gave that brought out his deep set dimples, the softness of his voice at 3am when nightmares drove them both out of bed.

Eddie blinks a few times, looks down, eyelashes casting long shadows against his cheeks. His playing slows, and he ends the song with a crack in his voice as he sings.

"Hello, I've waited here for you, everlong"

The only thing Steve can hear is the pounding of his own heart. He wants--he wants--

The shrieking delight of his children carries down to the lake, his wife's wind chime laugh tinkling just behind.

He doesn't know what to do, what to say, can't stop hearing the way Eddie's voice broke on the last line that wasn't even in the original song, and--

Hopper calls out, "alright you animals, come and get it."

His wife yells, "Steve, come help with the kids?"

He shoves to his feet, yells back, "be right there."

Steve doesn't know what to do, what to say, how to process any of this.

He walks away from Eddie without glancing back.

[howdaretrashships]

Feihua Most Unhinged Moment Tournament: Semi Finals, Bracket 2

Tournament Masterpost

Propaganda:

Option 1: "You have my internal power in your body."

Di Feisheng does not know he's Di Feisheng. He's woken up in a strange place with no memories of who he is, much less anyone else. He's dressed in wedding robes, but he's surrounded by corpses. A blind man tells him he was supposed to marry one of them.

Two more men enter. Both are surprised to see him, but while the younger is angry, the elder says they're friends. Good friends.

Then he passes out.

He has a nightmare about his childhood. He's a killer surrounded by killers. A cruel master wants him to be ruthless and under his control. He grows up surrounded by corpses.

When he wakes, he puts a knife to the throat of the elder of the two men. The man is neither surprised nor afraid. Li Lianhua's name is on his hand in his own writing.

Li Lianhua says his name is A'Fei. He says A'Fei has helped save lives. As proof, Li Lianhua offers his own wrist.

A'Fei doesn't know his own name, but he recognizes the power flowing through his own meridians is the same as that flowing through Li Lianhua's. Li Lianhua looks at him with affection at the realization.

A'Fei only remembers killing, but he knows he wants Li Lianhua to live.

Option 2: Toasting the moon with nuptial wine on the 10th anniversary of the Donghai fight

You're here on this mountain for him.

(Well, actually, you were injured and betrayed by an old friend [again] and abducted here. But you were meeting that friend so you could rescue him.)

He was abducted and tortured by a woman that claims to love him. She plans to marry him (even though he's not willing). She's keeping him bound and helpless.

(He stopped you from killing her once. You wonder if he ever regrets that.)

You help him survive a 10% chance of repairing his meridians, and he comes out stronger for it. He says he'll repay you, but you know what the payment will be and you don't want it. (He won't listen. He wants you to live. He wants to fight you again.)

The room you're hiding in is decorated for a wedding (his wedding) and the wine you're drinking is nuptial wine (crossed-cup wine) and he says today is the day. Today, ten years ago, was the last time you crossed blades.

The last fight before you died, that he spent ten years healing from. The fight that broke the truce you negotiated together. The fight that shouldn't have happened - wouldn't have happened - if you had just talked to each other.

If you had trusted each other the way you do now.

And he looks at the moon and says the moon wasn't as bright as it is now. And he smiles.

And you realize it's actually always been this bright, you've always felt this way, you just didn't have the ability to recognize it back then. (His smile is soft as he agrees.)

So you toast to who you were, and who you are; with wedding wine, in a newlywed chamber. (And you don't tell him he won't get another fight.)

[raayllum]

i am the sea, i am the moon

summary: Let me in." —Paul Celan. Missing Rayllum scenes from Book Five: Ocean.

a/n: first chapter is set right after rayla’s arrest in 5x01, featuring callum chewing out opeli. <3

word count: 946 words

chapter one: unconditionally

Rayla bounds over to him, almost reaching for his hand, it seems, before she settles for a grateful squeeze of his shoulder. “Callum,” she says, quiet but not hiding. “Thank—”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” he says, more brusquely than he meant it. She blinks, taken aback, and he softens. He’s angry, but not at her. He keeps one hand on the bow. “Go on,” he says, offering up a tiny smile. Then, to everyone else, “High Cleric,  a word?”

It’s not a request, but it’s still rare he’s given the High Cleric orders—usually, it’s been the other way around—and rarer still he uses her title. She’s formal with them, of course, but she’s still Opeli. She nudges them to eat and makes sure Ez takes breaks and helped plan his birthday party, well-intentioned if melancholic.

She’d been willing to let him and Rayla share a room for her first brief stay at the castle, in spite of it not being very traditional.

Callum knows if Rayla had stayed, they wouldn’t be having this problem right now—two weeks is not a lot of time to get to know someone—but then again, isn’t it? But he remembers the way Opeli brought proposal letters to him from noble families, the way he caught her talking to Ezran sometimes about political marriages since he was of age soon, that it was time to move on, wasn’t it? Before Ezran could shush her, and when she hadn’t thought Callum could hear.

His jaw clenches.

read the rest on AO3

[turbo-tsundere]

Last Sentence Tag Game: Write the latest line from your wip (or post where you last left off in your art) and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

I was tagged by @honeysucklebuttons​​! <3

Hmmmm, I’m not a writer, but I think anyone tagging me would propably expect drawings anyway + the rules seem to allow it - so I’ll toss the most recent sketch I have. I drew it shortly after making that post about how the mysterious “Master Detective nr 3″ from Rain Code looks like a saigoku lovechild. x’D

Here it is:

Basically, I had some silly ideas themed around family vacations, and this is one of them. XD

Sfx aren’t exactly a “line” - but it’s something, and there’s 2 of them. So I’m tagging @hydrangeatattoo​​ and @drowsie341​ if that’s okay - but feel free to ignore it!

[topsyturvy-turtely]

OTP challenge - day 14

IT IS BACK YOU GUYS!!! I am bringing it back! ✨turtely's otp challenge✨

please someone tell me they are excited- i need that, lol.

I had the BIGGEST writer's block ever: didn't come up with an idea for mOnThs and when I finally did have one I was like "idk how to wriiiiite that" but today I was like *slams table* yk what?! Fuck that! I am bringing it back! Soooo yeah. Here we go? please lmk what you think!

Btw it is a bit (a lot) different then my other stories sooo bear with me yeah?

[Link to day 13]

14. Geeking out over something

Blue vs. red. Grunts vs. robotic breathing. Good vs. bad. Two lighsabers meet, trying to push the other away. Two male counterparts, fighting for what they think is the right way, which looks decidedly different from each view.

Suddenly - the taller, darker haired, with the black mask - strikes and-

"AAAAAAHHH", the shorter, blonder, with perspiration in his shaggy hair - cries in agony. His hand has been separated from his arm. (Or was he just hiding it in is sleeve?) The boy steps back, covering his injured arm under the healthy one. His weapon is lost. The dark guy steps closer and the blond is trapped on a small part of the treehouse platform.

The other boy man speaks up, "There is no escape. Don’t make me destroy you. You do not yet
realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the
galaxy."

But the blond boy - even with no escape in sight, even being greatly injured - refuses. Brave soldier until the bitter end, he counters, "I’ll never join you!"

But the masked one does not give up, "If you only knew the power of the dark side. Obi-Wan never told
you what happened to your father."

Desperately holding onto the tree branch the metal construct the blond boy speaks through gritted teath, "He told me enough! It was you
who killed him."
Perhaps you would see a sad smile behind the mask as his friend enemy speaks. "No. I am your father."

Shocked, the blond stares at his counterpart. Refusing to believe even one word, he yells, "No. No. That’s not true! That’s impossible!"

The taller argues in his deep voice, "Search your feelings. You know it to be true."

But the smaller won't believe. "No! No! No!"


"Luke. You can destroy the Emperor. He has foreseen this. It is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father
and son. Come with me. It is the
only way." He puts away his sword, and offers his hand to the shorter boy man.

The injured breathes deeply, indescribable but pronounced tranquility waving over him. He looks over the edge, looks back at the masked man and-

He jumps off, landing safely in a trampoline underneath, falling into the endlessness of the galaxy.

The taller boy rips his mask off and reveals messy dark curls. With one jump he follows the blond boy and lands next to him on the trampoline. The shorter boy giggles and turns around on his belly. His face prepped on his palm, blue eyes sparkling as he looks at his friend. The dark haired boy grins widely and lays onto his back, with one arm under his head. "Nice acting there, Martin"

The blond laughs, "Yours was pretty good too, Ben"

Ben, the taller, dark-haired boy, grabs his own hand and imitates the shout of pain from the act, that appeared minutes before, "AAAAAHHHH!"

The blond - Martin - playfully nudges Ben's shoulder with his hand. "Oh, shut up!"

The dark haired boy smiles at him. Then his face turns serious, "Join me when I go to acting school, after high school."

"We could be Holmes and Watson", Martin grins.

Ben grabs Martin's hand, "Whatever happens you'll forever be the Holmes to my Watson."

But as soon as he says that, Martin has to visibly fight a laugh back.

"What? What is it?"

"It's just-", now Martin can't help laughing. "Have you looked at yourself?! You definitely got the looks for a genius. You- with your cheekbones..."

"My cheekbones?!"

"Yeah! And the dark hair and all that." Martin waves generally at Ben's face. "Gotta be you."

Ben considers that. Then he shrugs. "Alright. As long as it is us."

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.", Martin says with a gentle smile, squeezing Ben's hand.

"John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.", Ben replies.

"Yeah, could work." Martin grins.

"BBC is gonna love us." Ben says, a dreamy expression on his face.

"Everyone is gonna love us." Martin says, shrugging, completely unaware how true these words will be.

~The story about how Freebatch turned into Johnlock because of Star Wars.

---

(tags and info under the cut)

sooo yeah I guess that was a multi crossover? Ever looked for a "young Freebatch geeking out over Star Wars and then talking about becoming Johnlock"-fanfic? Well there you go! xDD This was my first freebatch fic ever (I don't usually write or read that because I think the actors deserve some privacy...) and probably my last so don't hate please :P

The dialogue (the one written in italics) is taken from the Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back movie. Check out my Source.

All I've got left to say is: Thank you for sticking with me and reading, my lovely turtles!

tag list! (please tell me if you wanna be added/removed or if i forgot you!) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @boredsushi @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee

[iceskatingmobsters]

been working on my own headcanon timeline of owv's early years, so have a little bit about hornfels:

hornfels is just as adventurous and mischievous as slate and feldspar are when they're hatchlings, but is much less bombastic about it. despite their insatiable curiosity (or perhaps because of it) they're a pretty quiet kid. consequently, they're warned to stay well away from Danger Trio's wilder schemes and spends most of their time around the older hatchlings and the adults as a result. you know the quiet kid who was labelled as "mature for their age" but was kinda socially inept? that's hornfels. they don't have anything against the other members of their cohort, though; slate scares the shit out of them but they think slate is stupid smart, gossan seems funny and cool, and they are enthralled by feldspar's reckless curiosty. but they don't wanna get in trouble, because they're responsible or whatever. don't worry about the burns on their hands, they definitely got too close to a campfire and they definitely weren't messing around near the ghost matter patch again. for sure learned the first time not to be anywhere near the ghost matter patch.

they join in for as many shenanigans as they secretly can, anyways. those three are onto something, even if none of them -- including hornfels -- know exactly what, yet.

the old archivist/museum curator, gravel, sees a bit of themself in hornfels and takes them under their wing. gravel is of the firm belief that remembering the past and holding to tradition is what keeps the hearthians and their culture alive -- every archaic item from their past, every story has a lesson to be learned and is worthwhile to keep and remember. that isn't to say that they refuse to move on with the times, that would be a different sort of stupid, but to ignore the lessons of the past is, at best, idiocy, and at worst, deadly. needless to say they kinda hate the "space program" because the whole village knows what happens to people who stray too close to the geysers.

hornfels kinda loves the space program, which is a fucking problem. they start out as an occasional consultant -- they're easy to find most clear nights with a telescope, anyways, so they're Danger Trio's best source for questions about potential space travel who will actually give them the time of day, as long as it's out of gravel's earshot. and then it became hornfels seeking the others out, asking about their progress, offering their own ideas and advice and theories and and and...

here's the thing. hornfels likes archival work and history work, they do. they took gravel's stance that every moment deserves to be remembered and learned from to heart. but space calls to them in a language they can't ignore -- the call of endless discovery, of new technology and flora and fauna, and not just studying the stars on clear nights but being out there, with them, and maybe even finding other people out there in the great expanse if they're lucky. hornfels thinks they will be. there's a couple odd skeletons in those ruins in the mountains and with the expansiveness tektite described, there's no way those were the only ones of their kind out there.

hornfels stakes their claim on a spot as a member of ventures, proper, after feldspar blows themself up the first time (unfair of them to think that way, on second thought, that accident wasn't really anyone's fault) under the condition of utmost secrecy. which is fine! they'd snuck out to cause trouble with the others when they were really young, and the other three have been working in relative secrecy ever since the first barrel they threw into a geyser and got really serious about the whole thing. they're a lot more flippant about it than hornfels, is, though, because getting caught just means less resources and tighter works schedules, for them. for hornfels, not so much -- despite their disagreements on risk-taking and the price of progress, hornfels deeply respects and cares for gravel, and going behind their back like this is necessary and painful. they'll lose a lot more than a week in the hatchling cabin if they're well and truly caught. they want to tell gravel! they're going to, eventually. they're just gonna wait until they've got something physical and successful to show for all of ventures' hard work to bolster their case.

they don't get the chance. gravel dies a few short months before ventures is ready for their first launch, when things are getting really hard to hide. it's a silver lining, to not have to scramble so hard to hide their involvement in gravel's least favorite project in the village, but hornfels is crushed under the weight of what was left unsaid.

they find themself preoccupied with a new project, too. gravel left behind a veritable mountain of unsorted donations of old hearthian paraphernalia that they never got around to putting on display -- truth is, most of the stuff they kept isn't really worthy of display. it's too busted up, usually, or not particularly noteworthy. hornfels had offered to help sort it all, time and time again, but gravel had always refused them, saying it was their responsibility and they shouldn't have put it off for so long. they aren't here to refuse hornfels, anymore, and the pile seems insurmountable. gravel believed that every object given to them had a story and a lesson, and hornfels believes it, but they don't believe everything has to be kept pristine and behind glass to take what you need from it. it feels wrong, to throw away gravel's collected bits and bobs, but hornfels doesn't have much of a choice.

they step away from ventures for a week and a half, to sort through the old donation pile, and their guilt and grief along with it. when they come back, museum more organized than it's ever been, the grief isn't easier, but it's quiet enough they can focus on other things.

feldspar launches a month after that and comes back with a singed rocking chair. hornfels had cleared a space out for an entire ship, outside the museum, but a rocking chair is just fine, because it came back with gossan's ideas for new safety protocols, slate's plans for the next ship, and feldspar's wonder at what they saw, out there in the cosmos. hornfels learns what they need to, preserves what they can, and gets ready for what's next.

[draculas-husband]

Thanks to having taken Edmont's measurements right before their wedding, Drac had been able to design and commission Tataru to make his husband an outfit as an anniversary gift. He had worked closely with a few good friends to have the cane and pin crafted as well.

The xaela had even managed to convince his beloved to pose for him in his new outfit  as he painted, for Edmont was his muse.

It was now the first Starlight they were celebrating as husbands and Edmont finally got to see the painting finished. The elezen lord began to tear up as he saw the love that had been put into it, taking Drac's hand in his own and squeezing it lovingly as he admired his husband's work.

"I've never looked better." The former count smiled affectionately at his beloved, lifting his husband's hand and giving it a gentle kiss. "Thank you." He whispered, his eyes shiny with tears.

"You look far better in the flesh, my love. But I am so happy you like it." There was a slight flush to Drac's cheeks as he responded and he leaned against his husband as they looked at the painting together, fond smiles on both men's lips. 

I started working on this back in august of this year. It is based on a painting of Robert de Montesquiou by one of my favourite artists; Giovanni Boldini.

Which practically makes this a tribute to my two favorite french Counts haha! ❤️

[thedeadthree]

I THINK I HAVE A NAME FOR THE W*ITCHER FIC OH MY DARN TOOTIN GODDDD !!!!!!!!!!!!

[thedragonagelesbian]

Something something second chances...........

“And you don’t have to worry about threatening to kill me if I hurt him,” Anders added. Where he had been sheepish before, he now spoke with that disconcerting certainty that had scared Varric so much so many times over the last year. “If I hurt him again, I’ll take care of that myself.”

Varric could’ve just let the comment go. He was tired enough as is, and Anders had already given him enough grief for a lifetime. It was probably well within his rights to let the self-loathing slip by.

Instead, he sighed and said, “Blondie, you’ve got to stop saying shit like that.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. That’s why you have to stop. As a storyteller, I get the appeal of the whole tragic self-sacrificing lovers thing. It makes for one hell of a dark romance novel. But as your…” Varric’s tongue stumbled into it before his mind did. For a moment, he actually paused to try to think if he knew a word for the recently acquired partner of his partner who was also once his dearest friend until being directly responsible for ruining their lives. For all his years of wordsmithing, nothing came to mind, and he tried to cover up his faltering with a cough. “Point is, this is real life, not a novel, and in real life, sometimes you hurt people you care about. You have to be okay with that without immediately jumping to this ‘he should want me dead’ shit.”

“After what I did in Kirkwall—”

“We’re not in Kirkwall anymore!” Varric didn’t mean to snap with quite as much vehemence as he did, but there was a hole in his heart where his home used to be, and all the self-flagellation in the world from Anders wasn't going to fill it again. It just reminded him of how much his chest ached. “Cyrus made his choice. He wants you to live. Start wanting it for yourself too.”

Anders had been looking like a kicked puppy ever since he had slunk into the Gallows with his tail between his legs. He had the self-hating pout down to a damn art form, and still he managed to outdo himself then. Head ducked, shoulders hunched, spine buckled underneath the weight of what Cyrus and Varric had asked of him. He'd only look more pathetic if he was sopping wet, and damn it if Varric didn't feel his heart stirring with pity.

“Look,” he tried again. “Cyrus and I have talked about why the two of you separated the first time around. You freaked out because he did his 'please let me die for you' shtick, right? Remember how scary that was to listen to? That doesn't become a fun, cool, normal thing just because you're the one doing it.”

“I…” Anders' voice cracked. “I suppose I see your point…”

“I sure fucking hope you do, because I already have one dead-set would-be martyr in my life. I don't want another.” He paused, shook his head, and let out a rough chuckle. “Fuck, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe the two of you deserve each other.”

“He deserves you,” Anders insisted quietly. “You don't know… It's so difficult to stop thinking like this. It's hard enough for me to imagine starting down that path, let alone making the progress Cyrus has… had, until I… But even then, you were there to stop him from spiraling further. You've helped him so much.”

Varric folded his arms and sighed again. “If you stick around, I'll help you too, Blondie.”

For the first time, Anders turned away from the fire to stare at Varric, his eyes wide and trembling. “Do you really mean that?”

Varric responded with a shrug, as if this was a simple, off-hand matter. As if he wasn't still boiling with anger over all the mage had cost him, had cost Cyrus. Maybe it was. Maybe he wasn't, or at least wouldn't be forever.

“What can I say? I'm a fixer.” He glanced past the fire to the elf curled up on their shared bedroll, sleeping as soundly as he ever did, escaping from all the horror and loss and tragedy, if only for a few hours each day. “We both are.”

[codtrashsammy]

oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

[unclewaynemunson]

I definitely think it takes Eddie a while to accept that Steve changed. He remembers what he was like in high school.

When Steve asks him out, for whatever reason, Eddie says yes. But he’s determined not to fall in love, because deep down Harrington’s still a dick. But he’s cute, and Eddie can smile and play pretend.

But then! Steve goes full happy relationship mode, he tells Robin (obv), introduces Eddie to the other adults as his bf, and is just generally being sweet.

MY SWEET ANON I HOPE YOU'LL STILL SEE THIS!!!

I'm so sorry it took me ages to answer this one! But I really loved the idea of this (the good ol' steddie + misunderstanding about what they mean to each other with a dash of terrible communication skills my beloved) so i wanted to give it my proper attention, which i didn't have enough time for over the past few months. Buuut the words have finally found their way to my keyboard so here is the first part of what probably will turn into a 3-part ficlet, I hope it's something like what you had in mind when you sent this ask to me <3

---

Eddie has been acting weird all day. Maybe Steve is too much of a romantic, but he can't help it: he wanted to celebrate this day. Exactly a month ago, he asked Eddie out. And it's been good. They've spent a lot of time together. They've been on lots of dates, spent plenty of nights together... But today, things are different, somehow. Eddie is different. He turned Steve down for a dinner date, he didn't stop by Family Video during lunchtime, and when Steve shows up at the trailer to surprise him with flowers, he merely frowns and pulls back from their kiss before it can even properly get started.

'Everything alright?' Steve asks, trying to catch his boyfriend's gaze – which isn't exactly easy with how Eddie is turning away from him to not-so-gently put the flowers down in a corner of the trailer's living room.

'Yeah, sure,' Eddie mumbles, not really looking at him. 'It's just – I didn't really expect to see you today. We didn't have plans.'

Steve chuckles, trying to get the tension out of his chest. 'Didn't know I was expected to schedule an appointment before coming here.' He tries to play it off as a joke, but the tone of his voice doesn't really want to cooperate.

Eddie finally turns back towards him and Steve catches the end of an eye-roll.

'I'm just not feeling too great today, alright?' It sounds a bit stiff and Steve pauses. He wonders if he did something wrong, if he somehow invaded Eddie's space – even though he has showed up at the trailer on countless evenings in the past month.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Eddie answers, a little bit too fast. 'I told you, I'm not feeling so well.'

And now that he can see his face properly, Steve notices that Eddie is indeed looking paler than usual.

'Hey, don't worry about it,' he says. 'I can stay to take care of you, if you want to. We don't have to do anything. You can go to bed early and I'll keep you company. I can make you some soup, read to you... You could've just told me you're not feeling good, you know. I would've picked up some fruit on my way over here and stopped by the library for you.'

'You don't have to do any of that, Steve.'

Steve tries to ignore the fact that it's been ages since Eddie has last called him by his official first name. He doesn't like the sound of it.

'But I want to,' he says instead. He takes a step towards Eddie, lifts his arms to wrap them around him – but Eddie swats his arms away before he can properly embrace him.

'Don't.' He sounds cold and detached, so different from how he usually sounds. 'Don't act like this is something it isn't.'

'Like this is something –' Steve echoes, completely caught off-guard by this turn of events. 'Like what?'

'Jesus Christ, you really don't know when to stop, do you?'

'What?' He takes a stumbling step backwards, driven away by the force in Eddie's words.

'We're not – like that,' Eddie stutters out. 'We're just fucking around, aren't we? So you don't need to pretend. You don't need to bring me flowers. You don't need to take care of me when I'm sick. You don't owe me anything, alright? You can go home.'

Steve takes another step backwards, until his back collides with the door of the trailer. He blindly grabs the door handle behind him.

'Alright,' he says, trying desperately not to let his voice tremble audibly. 'I hear you, loud and clear. I'll – I'll leave you alone, then.'

Read pt2 here (Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

[magics-neptunes-things]

Baby Sister

Hi guys!

This one is from resquets, lot of them actually. I hope you will enjoy this ficlet :)

TW : Jealousy, secret relationship, Reader is Jenni Hermoso's little sister.

PART 2 IS HERE!

_____________________________________________________________

Being Jenni Hermoso’s little sister has always been a great pride for you. You wear your last name with great happiness and you have always attended all the matches you could see. You have never missed any of his important matches, whether with the Barça team or the Spanish national team. This summer, you even made the trip to attend each stage of the competition, until seeing her lift the trophy at the finale.

What happened after and around this victory, you’d rather not talk about. This story makes you green with rage and you sincerely believe that if you had faced these men at the end of the summer, things would have gone very badly.

Jenni now playing in Mexico, it’s obviously harder for you to go and see her play. You watch her evolve on the other side of the ocean thanks to VPN, what you find ridiculous, it’s your sister for God’s sake.

But you’ve been used to long distance relationships for a while now. Because your girlfriend doesn’t happen to live in Barcelona either. Leila has been playing for Manchester City since the summer of 2022, a few months after you two started dating. The long-distance relationship is clearly not something easy to manage, but your reunions are incredible every time. Now that Jenni is no longer in Barcelona, it’s easier for you to fly to Leila for a weekend in Manchester.

Yes, because Jenni obviously doesn’t know that you’re in a relationship with one of her friends. Former colleagues at Barça and in the Spanish national team, there is no need to draw a picture to know how you met. It took some time for you to get closer, you were long persuaded that Leila only saw you as Jenni’s little sister. Baby Hermoso, like most of Jenni’s teammates like to call you.

It’s not a nickname that bothers you, you know it’s affectionate and again it’s not something pejorative for you to be compared to your sister. You love her. Even though she tends to be very protective of you, scaring away all your girlfriends pretty quickly. No one is good enough for you in her eyes and even if you know that her goal is to protect you and to avoid the mistakes that she made herself, you must admit that it’s for this reason that Leila and you decided to remain hidden.

Lying or hiding things from Jenni is really not easy for you. You are used to telling her everything and you have sometimes picked yourself up at the last moment when you want to tell her an anecdote about something you saw or did with Leila. Luckily, you didn’t make any missteps in a year and a half, almost two years.

But the secret is starting to weigh you more and more. Being away from the two most important women in your life is difficult for you and you regularly find yourself with lower morale than usual. When Jenni asks you about it, you just tell her you miss her. Which is true, but not totally. It’s easier for you to talk about it with Leila, even if you don’t want to impose your moods on her.

With Christmas coming, Leila is back in Barcelona, just like your big sister. You managed to establish a schedule in the rules of the art, juggling between family meals and stolen moments with your girlfriend. You even managed to set up an afternoon with Ona, Leila and other friends you have in common. You even asked Alba Putellas to join you, but she already had something planned.

So, when Ona and her brother went back to their parents, Leila offered to take you home, which you obviously accepted. Except she stayed at your place to end the night between lovers, catching up on all the kisses, hugs and love whispers you’re late for. You could spend hours with Leila, hidden under your sheets, exchanging confessions between two kisses.

********

It was between Christmas and New Year’s that Jenni asked you to have lunch and an afternoon with her. If her proposal obviously excited you, you found yourself hesitating when she told you she wanted to invite Leila to join you. It’s been a while since they met again and Leila apparently misses her. And since you two are getting along, Jenni thought it was a good idea to bring people together.

If only she knew how well you two get along…

From the exchange of messages that you had with Leila to talk about this, you realized that the situation seems to amuse your girlfriend more than anything else. It helped you see things in a different light. Maybe there’s no reason to worry, after all?

You’re the last arrived in the restaurant Jenni picked, both brunettes already sitting at a table. You have no trouble spotting them, it would have been difficult to do it anyway with Jenni’s great gestures. You approach Leila to hug her, giving her a stern look when her hand is dangerously low on your hip. Then you put a kiss on your sister’s cheek, which makes you sit next to her before grabbing a lock of your hair.

"Since when do you have red streaks?" laughs your sister

You shrug your shoulders and get rid of your jacket to place it on the back of your chair. The facility is already pretty full and people don’t seem to pay too much attention to your table. A good thing for you.

"Since yesterday"

"It suits her well I think"

Jenni looks at you for a few more seconds before smiling and nodding. Just like her, you have very dark hair, but your eyes are more on gray than on brown like those of Jenni. When you turn your attention to Leila, she winks at you and you find yourself blushing slightly while smiling.

The discussion between the three of you goes rather well in the end and after you go to choose tapas, you relax completely. The laughter burst and you spend a pleasant moment with the two brunettes.

Between two tapas, you grab your phone to open whatsapp and show a message from your mother to Jenni to show that you are right about something. Honestly, you can’t even say why it was, as the subject is quickly forgot when another conversation seems to have caught your big sister’s eye.

"Who is the lion?"

"What?"

You’re trying to quickly put your phone in your jacket pocket, because you know exactly what Jenni is talking about. Instead of saving Leila’s full name, you inserted a lion emoji and an emoji with a burning heart next to it. You find it cuter and it saves you a little today. But not as much as you would have liked.

No doubt thanks to her reflexes worked during training, Jenni managed to grab your phone before you put it away, hurrying to change her hand to get away from you.

"Jenni give it back to me" you half get up and try to take it back.

In front of you two, Leila looks at you with big eyes, without really knowing what to do. Luckily you never call yourself by your first names. And luckily too, you tend to send yourself photos through other apps.

"I miss you, I can’t wait to find you" starts reading Jenni out loud, frowning. "I count the days before I see you again… Who is this girl?"

When Jenni turns to you, you manage to take the phone out of her hands and put it away from her. Your cheeks are so red we could probably bake eggs on them.

"No one" you grunt carrying your glass to your lips.

"Well if that’s nobody, I don’t dare imagine what the messages with your girlfriend are" laughs Leila.

You almost strangle yourself with your drink and Jenni doesn’t seem to blame you to the point of letting you die on the spot since she gives you little pats on the back. On the other hand, you shoot your girlfriend with the look by seeing her drive the nail.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" asks Jenni, eyebrows still frowned.

You sigh softly and hesitate a split second before answering. After all, she doesn’t need to know who it is, right?

"Yes" you simply answer, giving her a look of challenge.

Jenni supports your gaze, obviously, and you feel the questions swirling through her head. You don’t know what you’ll get first.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" your older sister asks.

"Because you drove away all the last ones I’ve been with" you answer, rolling your eyes.

"Oh right away the big words…" sighs Jenni, even if her amused smile proves her guilt.

A few seconds pass and you naively hope that this will be enough for Jenni as information for the moment. Maybe the fact that you’re with Leila will hold her back from pushing things too hard and getting other information out of you.

"How is she?"

It’s Leila’s voice which resounds however and you return once again a dismayed look in her direction. She’s supposed to help you, not the other way around. However, when you answer that it’s not her business, Jenni insists by asking you the question in turn.

"She is kind, she is attentive and understanding" you end up answering, a deeply upset look displayed on the face.

"Is she pretty?" asks Leila

"Obviously" you snort.

In front of you, Leila seems to be having a great time. And if you think that you may laugh about it later, currently you can’t help but think that you intend to make her pay for it later.

"Is she a good kisser?" continues Leila.

"Wow no, I don’t want to hear the answer to that question" Jenni steps in with one hand up. "I can’t believe it, you’re still a baby."

You roll your eyes sighing, hearing the moan in the voice of your big sister. You’re almost eight years apart, but she sometimes has a hard time forgetting that you’ve been fifteen almost ten years ago.

"I’m 25, Jenni" you point out, but this information seems to fall on deaf ears.

"Wait, is that the girl from your job here? Aida?"

"Who is Aida?" asks Leila

This time, the fun left your girlfriend’s voice and face. This makes you shudder from the inside, the main flaw of the brunette being undoubtedly her jealousy. This has already highlighted some tensions between you, but you have always been able to communicate in order to avoid too much conflict.

"It’s nobody" you respond quickly to Leila, to whom you have already mentioned her existence, you are almost sure of it. "And no, it’s not Aida. Can we change the subject now, please?"

Groaning in her beard, Jenni finally accepts your request, even if she specifies that you pay nothing to wait. You roll your eyes again and peck the last crumbs on your plate while Jenni apologizes to go to the toilet.

As soon as she has her heels turned, you feel Leila leaning in your direction.

"Who’s Aida?" asks the brunette again.

You sigh softly and shift your attention to Leila. You’re relieved that your sister went to the bathroom quickly after that, or you know that your girlfriend would have had her blood blown out until you two were alone.

"One of my colleagues Babe, I already told you about it" you answer in a low voice, leaning mechanically too in her direction.

Leila answers nothing, content to look at you at length with her black eyes, arms crossed on her chest. She’s too far away for you to catch her hand, so you try to keep eye contact with her.

"Leila stop, we already discussed it. You have no reason to be jealous"

A few seconds pass during which Leila seems to pass you to the X-ray using her eyes. Time seems to last you a little too long, you end up arching an eyebrow in her direction.

"And excuse me, but if one of them should be jealous, it’s me. You’re the one who’s tactile with all your friends and you’re the one who’s got edits of your person on TikTok. Not me."

You see Leila’s face relaxing under the effect of her surprise. You’ve never mentioned these two things until now and this may not be the best time to do so since your older sister was reappearing next to you two. She seems surprised by your two sulky faces and your similar position, your arms crossed on your chests.

"Uh… is everything okay?" she asks while sitting next to you.

You nod your head while Leila just grunts for a simple answer.

"I have to go." You suddenly decide "See you before you go, right?"

Jenni answers yes, probably a little surprised by your quick departure. She stands up in turn to put a kiss on your cheek and take you in her arms.

"Do you need a ride? Where are you going?"

You know perfectly well that Leila’s question is not innocent but on the other hand the kindness and helpfulness of the brunette alone could explain the proposal. But, on your side, if you had to describe yourself in one flaw, it’s impulsivity. You prefer to talk about spontaneity, but that’s why you find yourself answering her sarcastically

"Seeing Aida, what else?"

The flash of anger and jealousy passing through Leila’s face is very fast, but visible to you. And apparently to Jenni as well.

Still standing, Jenni lets go of a surprise exclamation before pointing at Leila.

"It’s you!"

"Huh?" Leila replies, turning to Jenni, having forgotten for a split second her presence.

"The lion and the burning heart! It’s you!"

"She puts a burning heart next to the lion?"

Leila’s question makes you hit your forehead with your hand. It’s a disaster. She could have responded positively to Jenni’s question that it would have come back to the same thing.

Your sister remains silent for a long time, her gaze passing from Leila to you many times. She opens her mouth several times before finally finding the words that dare to suit her. For your part, your heart rate is so high that you wonder if your heart is not trying to come out of your chest.

"Why didn’t you tell me before?"

You sigh softly, leaning against the bench on which Leila is installed.

"I told you. You traumatized all my last girlfriends Jenni, I’m sure some of them even changed countries after you finished talking to them. I didn’t want this to happen this time."

You feel Leila’s gaze rise on you, you have after all just confided that this relationship is important to you.

"Your ex-girlfriends were selfish first-league idiots" grumbled Jenni rolling her eyes at her turn. "I know Leila isn’t"

You pout a little before shrugging. You’re not sure that if she hadn’t faced the fact her reaction would have been the same. If you had told her about your relationship with Leila when it took place, you are convinced that things would have been different.

"How long has it been?" keeps asking Jenni.

"A year and a half" answers Leila for you.

The information seems to surprise your sister as she bows her eyebrows at you. You mumble an excuse and shrug.

"Well, it doesn’t look like I have a something to say anyway" sighs Jenni as Leila pulls you by the arm to make you sit next to her.

You let yourself be willingly, the revelations of the last minutes making you forget that you managed to argue while Jenni went to the toilet. Jenni sits down again, looking at you carefully, before pointing again at Leila.

"You’re my friend Leila. But I swear to God, if you hurt her, you’re still six feet under."