#wait wait wait. remembering that lady who said she loved my voice and said she'd listen to a podcast by me

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Gaze of the Moon (HOTD One-Shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You and your wife, the Princess Rhaenyra steal a moment of peace together as you prepare for the coming birth of your child.

Fic type: fluff, romance, reflection

A/N: I had intended for this to be fem!reader x Rhaenyra but it wound up GN. This is also for @hotd-bigbang's March 11th prompt.

HOTD: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Did you know of that tale?" You asked softly, brushing your wife's hair back behind her ear as she lay against you in the moonlight. "About the second moon who cracked open from the heat of the sun and let the dragons out?"

Your wife let out a deep breath, the back of her skull pressing into your shoulder as she leaned back against you to peer out at the sky- up at the full moon above. She was gorgeous tonight. Radiant, round- both wife and moon.

The silver rays caught in Rhaenyra's loose hair, free tonight from tight braids and silk ribbons. The way you knew she preferred it. She'd been a wild child who'd grown into a proper lady, though you knew she yearned for the freedom of manhood. If she were a man, things would be easier. You both knew this but didn't care to dwell on it. There was no changing what was.

Rhaenyra hummed, eyes catching in the moon's gaze.

"I'm sure I remember my father telling me such a story once," she affirmed softly, lip twitching ever-so-slightly into the ghost of a smile. Your wife spent so much time stone-faced under the watchful eyes of the court vultures that even in the privacy of your own quarters she sometimes had trouble letting the cracks through. You treasured each of them like jewels as they deserved to be. "I used to stay up late into the eve and watch the moon- waiting for her to split and for the night to grow dark save for the fire of dragon's breath,' she admitted, eyes drawing closed as she thought on the memories.

"Perhaps one day, my dear wife," you said, pressing a kiss to her head before allowing your own to lean back against the cold, stone wall behind you. "Tell me, what is High Valyrian for 'moon'?"

You'd been learning her family's language for some time now, and you were certainly getting there. It was just that you preferred to hear the words from Rhaenyra's tongue. And truly, who could blame you when her voice had such royal lilt? Her voice was a balm for the mind. Or your mind, at the very least. You could listen to her speak for an age and then some.

"Hūra," Rhaenyra replied, a soft knowing smirk on her lips. You repeated it back to her, testing the syllables on your tongue. You liked the way it sounded, the way it felt. You reached a hand around her to brush over her swollen belly, round with child.

"If we have a daughter," you said thoughtfully, "Hūra is a nice name, do you not think?" Your fingers danced over her belly, and you both let out a laugh when you felt the babe kick from within her. Rhaenyra's hand joined yours, squeezing comfortingly. You hastily added, "It is not a traditional name, but I like it."

"Princess Hūra Targaryen," Rhaenrya breathed, opening her eyes to peer at her belly. "It does have a ring to it," she agreed, "and if the little one's restlessness is anything to speak of, the babe likes it, too."

You both lapsed into silence for a while, enjoying the light of the moon, the glint of the stars and the sounds of the night. It was quiet at this hour. Your favourite hour. What else could you possibly want for than this? A loving wife in your arms, a babe on the way, a flask of wine to share and the gaze of the moon on you?

"I suppose it is only fair you get to name one of our children," she said after a while. You'd almost thought her asleep in your arms with how quiet she'd been. "Why not the first. Get it out of the way, hmm?" She teased. "What if the babe is a boy?"

You chuckled softly, flicking at her arm in reply to her jape.

"Thank you, wife. Your generosity knows no bounds. I do not think the bairn is a boy, but if he is, I am quite fond of Vēzos. Best keep with the theme."

"One has to wonder where this sudden passion for celestial names has come from, my love," Rhaenyra mused. "Perhaps we will have twins. The Maester did say it was a possibility. Hūna and Vēzos. Moon and Sun-" Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably as the babe wriggled under her skin. "I like it."

"Strong names," you added, brushing your fingers through her hair softly, aiming to detangle the few knots that caught in your fingers. "Compassionate names. Perfect for bairns destined for greatness."

You suddenly found yourself hoping for twins. A boy and a girl. Siblings to grow up together and protect each other from the horrors that lay dormant in the realm. You could picture them, age three or perhaps four, playing hide and seek in the gardens. Ages ten and four by their mothers' side on the throne. Ages nine and ten crowned joint heirs to the throne. Ages four and thirty sitting side by side on the throne. Ruling, together. Sun and Moon, over their kingdom. Their birth-right. Protecting each other and keeping each other in check. What was best for the kingdom.

The thought filled you with pride. Oh, yes, you hoped for twins. It wouldn't be long now until Rhaenyra was due. Within a month, most likely. It was part of the reason you both were staying up late at night and enjoying the peace. Once Rhaenyra commenced and completed her labours, there wouldn't be much room for peace and quiet.

And yet, you couldn't wait. You didn't like the thought of your lady-wife in pain, but the thought of your quiet chambers filled with the sounds of a babe or two growing big and strong was perhaps motivating enough for you to bear the thought of her pain. You'd be by her side no matter what, of course. Fuck the Maesters and midwives. This was your wife, your babe. You would be there to support her until she asked you to leave.

"We should retire to bed," Rhaenyra broke your thoughts as she began shifting to stand. "We both need our rest for the day to come. I believe we are making arrangements for catering after the birth."

Ah, yes. The feast the King was insisting upon for the birth of his Grand-Sire. As the birth grew closer, more plans needed to be set. Catering, colours, floral arrangements, gifts for the babe. So many things that Rhaenyra and yourself were set to arrange. You may have enjoyed setting the festivities up, but Rhaenyra would be more than happy to sit out if she could.

You hadn't told Rhaenyra yet, but you'd made arrangements with the cooks to send for the ingredients to make Rhaenyra's favourite sweets. Ones she had not had since she were near a babe herself. The rest of the food, however, you both needed to settle on. A job for tomorrow, quite clearly.

You supported her as she stood, following behind. You stretched out the muscles in your arms and legs, creaking with complaint. You could only imagine how Rhaenyra felt. You left the balcony door open to the bedchambers as you helped your wife shift out of her gown.

Once she was settled into the sheets, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief. The bed took the weight off her body and allowed her to settle in. You followed, pressing up against her back to keep her warm against the slight chill of the night.

Rhaenyra took your hand and rested it against her belly. You felt any of your remaining troubles melt away for the moment and pressed a kiss to the back of Rhaenyra's neck.

"Good night, my love," you whispered softly, rubbing your thumb over the silky material of her nightdress. "Sleep well, little one."

You drifted off to the sound of Rhaenyra's soft breathing and the quiet chatter of insects out in the gardens below your balcony, dreaming of the bairns to come, and a life well lived.

[fanaticalfantasist]

The Duchess - Chapter 1

AN: This story is set in my version of the Duke and I, so it's Daphne's story but with my favourite Bridgerton brother as well haha.

Every drawing room in London was full of the news being presented in Lady Whistledown's latest pamphlet. It passed through the lips of every young woman about to be presented at court, every concered mama and every eligible young gentleman who cared to read the latest gossip. Norfolk had been opened for the first time in over a decade.

The enormous home which acted as the london seat of the Dukes of Norfolk had been closed for so long many couldn't remember what it even looked like inside. It's halls had been left to gather dust and its fine furniture covered in large white clothes. The first activity in the great house was noticed by the maid of one small household who noticed the windows being openeded, and before long it had spread throughout London and clearly to the ears of the mysterious Lady Whistledown.

From her carriage Juliet watched as the fields slowly turned from the beautiful countryside of peace she loved into the city she was visiting for the first time in her life. Her parents had hated the place allways saying it had bought nothing but misery to them and they would't inflict that on her. She smiled a little looking at the city, thinking of all her father's descriptions that she could just about remember.

"You're away with the faries again" a deep voice made her jump out of her daydream. She looked up to see her only friend in the world Simon Bassett, the Duke of Hastings. The two had been thrown together at a young age by Lady Danbury, as two lonely children she thought they'd get along. Or at least she'd hoped they would, what had transpired was a close friendship which was fraternal in nature. Despire the late Duke of Hastings attemps to set a match between the young nobles it never took.

"Remind me again why I am doing this?" Juliet asked pushing a dark brown curl from her eyes and placing it behind her ear. Simon sighed, he hated to see his friend unhappy, he knew she was anxious, that she had a part to play that she was worried she'd fail at.

"We're both here to just show our faces, show our power and then we can runaway again" he said smirking when Juliet cracked a smile laughing a little.

"I'm guessing that's not what you said to Lady Danbury?" she asked as they pulled towards Hastings House.

"God no" Simon let out a boistrous laugh, he brushed his trousers down and got out of the carriage. "I'll see you for dinner?" he asked and she nodded.

As the carriage pulled away again and she was alone with her thoughts, Juliet took some deep breaths. The carriage held the embelem of the Norfolk family, so she knew the minute she stepped from the carriage eyes would be on her. Taking the small hand mirror she'd put into a bag she carried Juliet checked she looked every part the Duchess she was. She reminded herself this was a part she was playing, this wasn't her but the Duchess of Norfolk. She'd trained for this moment, she knew her power and knew what to do with it.

//

Everything about this day had been planned perfectly, to the point where Benedict was almost certain he could repeat each thing his mother had repeated to him. As he stood with his siblings waiting for Daphne's great entrance in front of the queen he would rather be anywhere but where he was at that moment. Nothing but a room full of mama's ready to push their daughters in front of the first eligable man they could come across.

"Miss Daphne Bridgerton presented by the Dowager Vicountess Bridgerton" the herald announced.

Benedict had to admit, that though he hated this and all these antiquated traditions, he was proud of the way that his sister was holding herself in front of all these people. He knew she'd be the diamond of the season, and knew the chaos that would cause in the Bridgerton household, his mother fussing and Anthony loosing his mind constantly.

With great interest Benedict watched as a herald ran towards the throne, and a message was passed on. He wasn't the only one who noticed that this was taking place, he could hear the slight murmer throughout the crowd gathered. They were all waiting to see what could have caused the Queen to pale slightly, and for those around her to look shocked.

//

Juliet took some deep breaths, knowing this was going to be an interesting moment for her, she had to stay calm. Running a hand down her white dress she smiled to herself. Thinking of what her mother had said to her, "Being a Duchess means being strong, no matter what anyone will say, you are a Duchess". She smiled sadly at the thought before hearing the chief herald from behind the large doors.

"Her Grace, Juliet Wyndham, Duchess of Norfolk" as he finished speaking the doors swung open. Juliet could hear the rippling murmers throughout the crowd. Slowly and confidently Juliet walked into the hall, she was keeping her eyes a head with keeping eye contact with the Queen. She oozed the air of being a Duchess, her power seeping through her veins.

She had chosen everything so prescisely, choosing to against all the traditions expected of her. No large feather, or cold trim. She wore a beautiful silk and lace dress her hair was not placed up but flowling around her shoulders, flowers delicetly spread around them and her diamonds sparkling in the light.

She kept her head held high, she knew the power she held. Juliet was well aware, as was everyone in that room including the Queen that Juliet was the most powerful person there. In fact the Wyndham family had more right to the throne than the current King and Queen did. She was richer, politically more savy and clearly admired.

"Your majesty" Juliet said clearly as she did a deep curtsy in front of the Queen before standing up again, she didn't wait to he invited too. She knew the power of the move, she was sending messages, and as many messages as she could.

"Your Grace, what an unexpected honour" the Quen was slightly stumbling for control, which made Juliet smirk.

[lovemydarkestsecrets-blog]

Tw: Transgender Sam

But it’s all good. No transphobia here ladies n gents.

"Dean?" Sam's voice cut through the quiet of the motel room, trembling with an urgency that instantly put Dean on high alert. Dean looked up from his laptop, seeing the worry etched on Sam's face.

"What's going on, Sammy?" Dean asked, his tone softer as he closed the laptop and gave his full attention to his brother.

Sam stood in the middle of the room, hands fidgeting nervously. For months, Dean had noticed the changes: Sam had stopped working out as much, seemed more reluctant to engage in their usual sparring, and had been letting his hair grow out longer than usual. But this was different. This was something more.

"Dean, there's something I need to tell you. It's really important," Sam said, his voice breaking slightly.

Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of worry and concern flooding his mind. "You know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together."

Sam took a shaky breath, his voice trembling as he began. "Dean, for a long time, I've been feeling like... like I'm living a lie. Like I'm not being true to myself."

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion and worry. "What do you mean, Sam? What's going on?"

Sam looked down, avoiding Dean’s gaze, tears brimming in his eyes. "I don't feel like 'Sam' anymore. I've been feeling... like I'm someone else. Like I'm... Samantha."

Dean stared at him, the words sinking in slowly. "Samantha?"

Sam nodded, the tears finally spilling over. "I'm a girl, Dean. I feel like I'm a girl inside. I've felt this way for as long as I can remember, but I was too scared to say anything. I want to be your sister, not your brother."

Dean’s mind reeled, trying to process what he was hearing. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. "But... I mean, you’ve never... how long have you felt this way?"

Sam's shoulders sagged, the weight of years of silence and fear showing in every line of his body. "Forever, it feels like. I just... I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared you'd hate me, or think I was crazy."

Dean shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around it. "No, no, I don't hate you, Sam. I'm just... this is a lot to take in."

Sam looked up, hope and fear warring in her eyes. "Can you try to understand? Can you accept me as your sister?"

Dean took a deep breath, his thoughts racing. He looked at Sam—no, Samantha—and saw the vulnerability, the desperate need for acceptance. Slowly, he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You're my family, no matter what. If this is who you are, then I support you. I love you, and nothing can change that."

Samantha’s breath hitched, a sob escaping her lips as she finally looked up at Dean. "You... you mean it?"

Dean nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Of course I do. I just want you to be happy, to be yourself."

Samantha broke down, the years of fear and self-doubt pouring out as she cried. Dean pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as she sobbed into his shoulder. "It's okay, Samantha. I'm here. We'll get through this together."

After a while, Samantha’s tears subsided, and she pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes. "Thank you, Dean. That means more than you know."

Dean smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "So, what can I do to help? How can I support you?"

Samantha took a deep breath, her voice steadier now. "I want to dress the way I feel inside. I want to go out as myself. Will you... will you take me out, dressed how I want to be?"

Dean's smile widened, his eyes filled with pride and love. "Absolutely. Let's do it. Get dressed however you want, and we'll go out."

Samantha's face lit up with a mix of excitement and relief. She headed to her bag, pulling out clothes she'd been hiding for months: a simple, pretty dress, some makeup, and a pair of shoes that made her feel confident. She hesitated for a moment, then disappeared into the bathroom to change.

Dean waited patiently, his heart swelling with pride for his brave sister. When Samantha finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed and made up, Dean's breath caught in his throat. She looked beautiful, her true self shining through for the first time.

"Wow, you look... amazing, Samantha," Dean said, his voice filled with awe.

She smiled shyly, her cheeks flushing. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean took a deep breath, still taking in the sight of her. "Can I... can I still call you 'Sammy'? Or does that need to change?"

Samantha's smile widened, and she nodded. "You can still call me 'Sammy.' Just... spell it with an 'I' now. Sammi."

Dean grinned, the love and pride evident in his eyes. "Alright, Sammi. Shall we, m'lady?"

Sammi giggled, feeling lighter than she had in years. "We shall."

As they stepped out of the motel room and into the world, Dean kept a protective arm around his sister, ready to keep creepy guys away from her.

Dean and Sammi walked down the street, Sammi’s eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. Dean guided her to a small, cozy diner they’d passed earlier, thinking it would be a good place for her to feel comfortable.

As they entered, a bell chimed, and a friendly waitress greeted them. Dean could see Sammi’s anxiety ease a bit as they were shown to a booth by the window. Sammi smoothed her dress nervously as she slid into the seat opposite Dean.

Dean smiled reassuringly at her. “You’re doing great, Sammi. You look amazing.”

Sammi blushed, her smile growing. “Thanks, Dean. This feels... really good. Scary, but good.”

They ordered milkshakes and burgers, and as they waited, Dean couldn’t help but marvel at how radiant Sammi looked. Her face lit up when she talked about her interests and dreams, things she’d kept hidden for so long. Dean felt a pang of guilt for not seeing it sooner, but more than that, he felt overwhelming pride and love for his sister.

“Tell me more about what you want to do, Sammi,” Dean said, genuinely interested, giving Sammi the opportunity to introduce the new her, the beautiful woman she had been hiding.

Sammi’s eyes brightened. “Well, I’ve been thinking about studying law. I want to help people who feel like I did, help them find justice and acceptance.”

Dean reached across the table, taking her hand. “You’d be amazing at that, Sammi. You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know.”

Sammi squeezed his hand, her eyes glistening with emotion. “Thank you, Dean. For everything. For being here for me.”

Their food arrived, and they ate, talking and laughing like they hadn’t in a long time. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Sammi so happy, so free. It was like a weight had been lifted, and he realized how much he’d missed this side of his sibling.

After dinner, they decided to catch a movie at a nearby theater. As they walked through the dimly lit streets, Sammi’s hand slipped into Dean’s, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. They bought tickets for a comedy, thinking something lighthearted would be perfect for the night.

The theater was almost empty, and they found seats near the back. As the movie started, Dean glanced over at Sammi, seeing her relaxed and genuinely enjoying herself. It warmed his heart.

Halfway through the movie, Sammi leaned over and whispered, “You know, Dean, I think this is the best night I’ve had in forever.”

Dean smiled, his heart swelling with pride and love. “Me too, Sammi. Me too.”

Sammi’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You know, I was thinking... I’ve always wanted to do something a little rebellious.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Before he could react, Sammi leaned in and kissed him on the lips. It was soft and brief, but it sent a jolt through Dean’s entire being. He pulled back, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Sammi, I—”

She giggled, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve always wanted to kiss a cute boy in a movie theater.”

Dean’s heart raced, but he saw the happiness and playfulness in Sammi’s eyes. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Well, I guess I’m honored.”

Sammi leaned her head on Dean’s shoulder, a contented sigh escaping her lips. Dean wrapped his arm around her, holding her close as they watched the rest of the movie. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

As they walked back to the motel later that night, Dean couldn’t stop smiling. Sammi was glowing, her confidence and happiness shining through. He knew there would be challenges ahead, but tonight had proven that they could face anything together.

“Dean,” Sammi said, stopping and turning to face him. “Thank you for tonight. It meant the world to me.”

Dean cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Anything for you, Sammi. Always.”

They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading away. In that moment, everything was perfect. Dean leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Sammi’s lips.

Dean knew that no matter what, they would face it together. And for the first time, Sammi felt truly at peace, knowing that she was loved and accepted for who she was.

[runnning-outof-time]

Everything Is Alright | Arthur Shelby x Reader

Request: no - written to celebrate @there-goes-thefighter ‘s tumblr’s 9th birthday

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Summary: Arthur and (Y/N) spend a special evening out under the stars and recall how they came together.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, one bad word

Word Count: 1473

A/N: here K goes again…writing another story to the tune of a song. This one was inspired by The Glorious Sons’ ‘Everything Is Alright’ I thought it fit well with Arthur. Congrats on 9 years, Bri!! I can’t believe that you put up with this hellsite for that long! I’m so thankful to be part of your journey! Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"How much longer are we going to go for?" Arthur's voice came from behind (Y/N), who was still a few steps in front of him despite her stopping and waiting for him to catch up at least three times.

"We're almost there!" she called back to him, briefly turning so that she could look in his direction, "you should know where we're going by now, Arthur!"

"Forgive me, love, it's been a long fucking time since we've went walking around the woods at night!" he yelled back, his words holding no anger, but rather confusion.

"We're almost there!" she repeated her previous statement, giggling a little at what he said.

The couple walked for a short while longer before coming to a stop at the edge of a small hill, where the land tapered off softly enough to create a natural seat. (Y/N) finally stopped and began laying out the blanket that she'd brought with her. She looked to Arthur when she was finished, seeing that he was looking out at the dark field in front of them with a fond smile on his face.

"Now do you remember where we are?" she asked, her hands finding her hips as she grinned over at him.

"How could I forget?" he looked over at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as his smile widened.

"Come, sit with me," she beckoned him, extending one of her hands to him as she stepped closer to the blanket they were standing on either side of. He took her hand and they sat down together, both chuckling softly as their shoulders bumped.

Silence fell around them once they were sitting comfortably, both occupied with looking up at the starry sky above them. It was beautiful out; a perfect night to represent all that they'd gone through together.

"Can you believe it's been nine years, Arthur?" (Y/N) broke the silence, glancing over at him after she finished speaking.

"I can't..." he started off with a bit of a chuckle, continuing before she could jump on him with questions, "I don't know how I managed to keep you for that long."

The second half of his statement made (Y/N) rethink her reaction to it. She pursed her lips together to try to hide her smile as she looked out at the moonlit field. "Do you remember the first night we met?" she asked then, her voice softer than it was before.

"Course," Arthur responded without a second thought. "I spent all my money on a pack of cigarettes for a lady that I knew I loved, but whose name I forgot," he began recounting the first night they'd spent together.

(Y/N) couldn't be surprised at his statement. She knew that it was nothing against her personally, and that rather it was because Arthur was terrible with names. Still, the first part of that sentence made her heart flutter. How could he have loved her if he'd just met her? "You taught me how to laugh that night; with all of your stories about your siblings and what you got into as a kid," she stated, grinning at the memory.

"And you taught me how to slow dance properly," he reminded her, chuckling softly at the memory of them sharing a haphazard dance together.

"Yeah...I couldn't have you keep stepping on my toes," (Y/N) pointed out.

"You still wouldn't let me take you home, even after all of that," he remembered how their night ended.

"I believe I told you that 'you don't stand a chance'," she backed his statement up by providing succinct details of it, turning to look at him with a grin then. "It's probably because you didn't remember my name," she teasingly added, knocking her shoulder against his as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure," Arthur shook his head while he failed at concealing his grin, snorting then as he dropped his gaze to his lap, "I didn't see you for bloody months after that...thought I'd made you disappear."

"I did kind of disappear, didn't I?" (Y/N) wondered aloud, setting her hands behind her so that she could lean back on them, stretching her legs out as well, "I set out on a dream that I didn't quite understand at that time. I thought it'd make me happy, but it only ended up making me sad and lonely..." she paused, exhaling a sigh as she recalled the brief period of time she spent in London, trying to make it as a writer, "if I'd only known what I had back in Small Heath, maybe I wouldn't have left at all. I certainly wouldn't have had to carry out all of those favors for those people I thought were my friends...helping them get further in their careers while mine stayed cemented to the ground."

Arthur sent her a sympathetic smile, knowing how tough it was for her to come back to Small Heath at first. He wouldn't tell her, but he remembered seeing her sitting alone in a corner booth at the Garrison, looking as defeated as ever as she nursed the drink in front of her. It hurt him to see her like that. At the thought, he reached back and placed his hand over hers, squeezing it softly as a silent gesture before he exhaled a slight chuckle. (Y/N) looked at him with furrowed eyebrows as she heard his laugh, wondering why he was responding like that. He shook his head slightly before looking up at the stars again. "Then I went and punched a man on his wedding night..." he started off, grimacing at the thought.

(Y/N) let out a laugh when she realized what he was thinking about, remembering that night full well. It was the night that they found each other again, having been invited to the same wedding through separate, mutual friends…she knew the groom and Arthur knew the bride. "I still can't believe that you did that," she commented, laughing about it now, but remembering very well that she was shocked at his actions when they happened. She was also the only one who was able to talk him down from whatever trip he was going on, and they’d become inseparable since.

"I'm still trying to figure out how to apologize for it," he stated, his grimace still present when he looked over at her, "but I'm happy for the fact that it brought me back to you," he added, his words making her reach over and run her hand down his cheek. He turned his head and pressed his lips to her palm, making her giggle at the tickling sensation his mustache created.

Silence shrouded them again as they shared a lingering look before looking up to the stars again. Moving out to the country - which allowed them to be closer to this spot - was the best decision they'd made. Once (Y/N) found out that this particular property was for sale, she made it her mission to make sure that they bought it. Money wasn't much of a problem for Arthur anymore, and he wanted to make sure that his wife, then fianceé, was happy. So they purchased the property and built a lovely home, and life, on it. Now neither would trade it for the world.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and let it out slowly, loving the feeling of fresh air entering her lungs. "Everything is alright..." she began, looking at Arthur again, "if only for tonight."

Neither knew what the next day held. Tommy seemed to be in the middle of his last elaborate scheme and his next, so all of the Shelby family members were enjoying the in-between time with their families. There was always that chance that tomorrow they'd get that phone call rounding everyone up back in Small Heath, but for tonight, everything was alright.

"I've forgotten what it feels like..." Arthur broke the momentary silence, his words making (Y/N) look at him, "you know, for everything to be alright for once."

"I know," (Y/N) agreed, nodding her head softly. She smiled at him then, thankful that he was the one who she was going to spend her life with. Sure it got messy at times, but she wouldn't have it any other way. "Happy nine years, Arthur," she softly said then, leaning in closer to him before continuing, "I love you," she finished her statement off in a whisper due to their close proximity.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Arthur grinned at her before he leaned in even closer, eliminating the rest of the space between them so that he could press his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Everything was most certainly alright...even if it was only for the night.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @just-a-blackhole @anotherblinder @christinasyellowflowers @insanitybyanothername @daisyblinder @wotcherpeak @call-sign-shark

MASTERLIST

Listen to the song Everything Is Alright by The Glorious Sons:

HERE.

[littlemuoi]

The tiny woman with dazzling blue eyes who turned me from a republican to a royalist by Louis de Bernières (September 2nd 2023)

Somewhere in my possession I have a snotty letter I wrote to my mother from university about not being interested in the Queen's 1977 anniversary. I was a young philosophy student at the time and being enthusiastic about the Monarchy was definitely not cool, especially as there was some kudos to be accrued from pretending to be Leftist.

I found myself puzzled and irritated by all the street parties and general celebrations, as if it was nothing to do with me. A few years earlier I had 'enjoyed' five months of officer training at Sandhurst where I had to swear allegiance to the Queen, her heirs and successors and I remember protesting inwardly that if one were to fight, it should be for a cause and not for a person.

However, in the 1990s I won the Commonwealth Writers Prize in three of its iterations. It meant that I had had my books chosen not by the usual London literati, with whom I have never been in favour, but by judges from all over Africa, Asia and indeed the world.

As I found out, the Queen's great passion was for the Commonwealth rather than Great Britain. It had been the means whereby the British Empire had miraculously and almost seamlessly transformed itself into a cultural and diplomatic club, so successfully that by the end of the Queen's reign there were countries in it that had never been in the Empire at all.

As the head of it, the Queen had, let's face the truth, literally charmed a succession of heads of state out of any post-colonial resentment that may have been niggling away inside of them.

She treated them with love and respect and had her love and respect returned. Julius Nyerere [Tanzania's leader] and Nelson Mandela are examples of two people who became close to her.

One of the perks of winning that writers prize was that the winners in all the categories were invited to Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen. You were advised about steps to be taken, how to bow and so on, and then you went in.

Some people are apparently tongue-tied and terrified but I found myself face-to-face with a tiny woman in sparkly clothes, with dazzlingly blue eyes, perfect complexion and a smile that seemed to break her face in half.

If you said anything boring or inane, she would say: 'How fascinating.' She made a joke about somebody important and self-important she had just met, which I am honour-bound not to repeat.

Her voice and turns of phrase were just like my mother's, they being of the same vintage. My problem was not that I was terrified or tongue-tied but that I felt warmly enough, relaxed enough, to want to be over-familiar. As the cliché goes, I went in a republican and came out a royalist.

I remembered how I had adored her as a little boy because she was so outstandingly pretty, and now I reflected that perhaps my previous resentment of her had been nothing more than the pique of somebody who had no hope of ever entering such a charmed circle.

Now that I had entered it for a few minutes, all the pique and sullenness suddenly evaporated.

If you had met the Queen, you assumed that she really wanted to know you and would become a little sad when no more invitations ever arrived. I was relatively lucky in winning that prize three times because I automatically got to see her three years running. Somebody told me she'd read my book Captain Corelli's Mandolin on a long flight to New Zealand but I have no idea if that is true or who told me; perhaps it was a lady-in-waiting.

There was one present on one occasion with a fag in her hand and I remember thinking: 'The Queen must be very tolerant to put up with that.' I bent down to pat the dogs when I should have been talking to her but she seemed unperturbed, as she was when I trod on one and made it squeal.

She had recently invented the Dorgi and was pleased about it.

I can no longer remember the order of things. As I drove (and still do) a Morris Minor, and had even worked as a mechanic in a Morris Minor garage for a year, I had been able to rescue a young woman in a broken down Morris near Richmond Park, who worked for the Royal Academy.

Thereafter I received free invitations to everything as long as she worked there. There was a do where I found myself in the company of the likes of Paul McCartney and Brian May, who are both outstandingly tall, but no one was talking to me until the Queen spotted me and made a beeline.

She was ever conscious of the number of people she had to talk to and would end her conversations very suddenly, even a very entertaining one, by suddenly turning her head to one side. Then the rest of her body would swivel sideways and she was off, like someone in a hurry to catch a train. It should have been very rude but it was both comical and endearing.

She had a party for poets at Buckingham Palace, which struck me as a dangerous and peculiar idea. I was standing with another poet when the Master of the Household approached me and said: 'Don't move, the Queen wants to have a chat with you.'

There was another beeline, another brief conversation, another swivel of the head, another charging away. I got on so well with the Master of the Household that we are still friends years later.

She had a party at Windsor Castle that was, I believe, the first after its restoration. She looked out across the courtyard at my Morris Minor Traveller and said: 'Goodness, we haven't had one of those here for years.'

The dinner party was a kind of glamorous sleepover. My luggage was unpacked for me by a valet who was very unimpressed that I was going to wear the same white shirt to dinner as the one in which I had arrived. 'Economising on effort I see,' he said drily.

The dinner was on silver plates. I hope I have not made that up. I was sitting next to Prince Andrew to begin with and we chatted about golf. I liked him and had no reason not to.

I eavesdropped on the German Ambassador talking to Tony Blair and I was impressed. When the latter stood up to leave with the ladies, the laughing Queen ushered him back into the room with her hand in the middle of his back.

I was struck by how frugal her appetite was; she was no trencherwoman. In her position and with such good cooks, I would have been the most massively globular monarchical flumper that the world has ever known, considerably larger than Edward IV and Henry VIII and Edward VII combined.

I spent the next morning in her library. She had many genealogy books and I found one with an inscription by Winston Churchill, so flowery, elaborate and humble that I felt guilty and embarrassed about the cheery informality of my own exploits on the flyleaf.

There was another party at Windsor for people 'in the Arts'. The Irish poet Seamus Heaney was there, surrounded by admiring young poets. 'Your passport may be green,' I thought, 'but you're as much a sucker for all this as anyone else is, aren't you?' The last time I saw the Queen was when she invited me to lunch at the palace. I think she had had a notion to invite a few people from each county one after the other, so as to work her way around the entire country. One of the guests was a fireman.

On the way, the sole of my shoe came off and I had to buy a new pair from a shop in Oxford Street.

At the gathering beforehand I had a conversation with the Duke of Edinburgh, about death. He said that the older one got, the more one was forced to contemplate it.

I liked him. He was intelligent and humorous, a man who clearly saw the absurdity of pretty much everything. He once teased me about being a novelist and a poet, as if it were altogether unnecessarily too much to do two such fatuous things in the same lifetime.

The Queen had a system for making things happen, which was that she would make a sudden move. When I was talking to the Duke, he suddenly stiffened and looked up because the Queen had made her 'action stations' move, just as I was asking him if he spoke Greek. She said: 'Well, do you speak French?'

I found myself sitting at her right hand side and during my half of her attention (she would switch halfway through a meal) we talked, among other things, about speaking French. We talked about Norfolk and I entertained a brief fantasy of being invited to Sandringham.

I think I may have disgraced myself by taking two quail breasts from the dish. She had only taken one but they are terribly small.

Afterwards I was standing at the gate of the palace when she whizzed out on her next mission, without even the slightest break or smidgen of a snooze. I was standing next to an armed policeman in all the gear and he suddenly looked down at me and asked: 'Ere, do you live in Denton?' I said, 'Yes, how did you know?' He relied: 'I beat you in the Father's Race.' I said: 'It was my sandals. I'd have won if I hadn't tripped up on the finishing line.'

While the Queen was hurtling off to her next appointment, I fell asleep on a bench in Hyde Park to recover from lunch.

That was the last time I saw her, waving from her car.

Thereafter I sent her books via my friend the Master. Books from their authors are just about the only gifts the Royal Family are allowed to receive. We have a large room in my house that we call 'The Queen's Room' because I used to tell my children that that's where we'd put her if she came to stay.

One day my little daughter wrote her a letter inviting her to stay, telling her that we had a very glamorous bathroom, and received a reply about being too busy. I don't think Sophie ever forgave her, and might even still be a republican.

I don't think it is possible to make a friend of anyone in the Royal Family, or make any assumptions if they are kind to you or seem interested in you. All that can happen is the occasional flash of communication or warmth that gives you a glimpse of the person within.

Princess Anne is intelligent and direct, the Duke of Edinburgh had a philosophical turn. The question is, what do they get from us?

I think the Queen mostly enjoyed herself because her enjoyment coincided with her duty. There was an eagerness in her manner as she suddenly looked away and shot off to talk to somebody else.

It's her heirs and successors I worry about. We, their subjects, are just going to try to make them as miserable as we can, aren't we? We are too chippy to speak generously of them and we are piqued about not being royalty ourselves. I found that having encountered the Queen, I was unable to be impressed by anyone else. Madonna invited me to lunch once and I still don't know why. I said no because I had a commitment in Northern Ireland. Sting wanted me to fly to Milan to interview him and I don't know why I said no to that either.

I've met many of my heroes, I've shaken hands with Nicolas Cage and President Clinton and been kissed on the cheek by Penelope Cruz. Only being kissed on the cheek by Penelope comes anywhere close to meeting the Queen.

[ellie-24]

That's alright Pt 2

Thank you @missmaywemeetagain for the prompt:

"Do it again. Please."

This is also for the people who asked for a part two.❤️ @richardslady121 @faithiegirl01

Part 1

Warnings: teeny, tiny bit of smut in the end.

Word count: ~ 2.7k

As always, I'm exited to see what the others came up with! 🫶🏻

@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love

She had imagined the whole evening very differently. But sometimes life is unpredictable. She asked herself why fate apparently decided to intervene on this very special occasion while she sat in the audience at the Hayride like she had done with her parents so many times before. But now it was something different. Something entirely different. Tonight it was her first date with a boy. A boy she'd shyly glanced at when they met in the hallway at school and awkwardly talked to when they were assigned partners in class. He's always so sweet to her, making her laugh and letting her copy from his test when they wrote one. All these things were great - he was great.

If only he hadn't made the comment about her hair being out of place when they met up before the show. If only he could talk about something other than baseball now. If only his brown eyes could pierce like the steel blue ones she's been thinking about for the last few hours. She felt horrible about herself while politely making conversation with her date, nodding and smiling at the right times. Often she found herself not being able to pay attention to what he said, her mind drifting towards those soft marshmallow lips and how they felt against hers. The only thing really keeping her from getting up was the hope that she would see him again. She remembered his voice from the radio, he was undoubtedly the one singing "That's alright, mama". The song played over and over again and everyone talked about it. Even her date informed her about this high profile newcomer who would perform here tonight, almost making her choke on her pepsi.

When he got onstage, his name was Elvis Presley she now remembered, she barely managed to surpress a squeal that was threatening to escape her. Instead she grinned like an idiot, hoping her date wouldn't notice her over the top exitement. She could tell that he was visibly nervous, his foot tapping up and down, his voice trembling when he introduced himself. The whole audience could feel it while he performed "That's alright, mama". He was so jittery, he shook his hips, tapped his feet and snapped his fingers in all at the same time in a way you'd never seen before. It looked a bit awkward and stiff at times. He even stumbled over the lyrics more than once. She looked around, seeing confused, irritated faces and bit her lip. When he left the stage again she felt the applause was more a polite gesture than actual exitement. She turned over to her date and excused herself, needing to 'powder her nose'.

She left through the main entrance and rounded the auditorium again towards the back entrance. Where she shared the wonderful kiss with the pretty and awfully nervous singer. Something invisible was pulling her there. Something she didn't quite understand herself. Maybe she hoped he would be there again and she quickly realised how pathetic she really was. Of course he wouldn't be there. What was even worse she allowed herself to go run after a boy. No girl, no lady would do such a thing an inner voice, which sounded suspiciously like her mother, scolded her. He, of course, didn't wait at the stairs like she hoped, but the door was open. She quickly snuck it without thinking and wandered around until she heard a voice where she was sure it was his.

"I know, Mister Phillips." She heard him mutter as she got closer to the dressing room in which he was standing in with another man.

"Elvis, I really mean it. You can do this, I know that you can. Don't let this set you back. You have another chance tonight, alright?"

"...I don't know what happened."

"It's them nerves. You thought about all these people in the audience and not about the music."

"You gotta be yourself, the people go crazy for it. Your dancing is unusual, but it's gold, so loosen up some more. What's the worst that could happen?"

"They'll hate me."

"Your performance a few minutes ago wasn't the best. I'm gonna be honest with you... So, it can only get better from now on. Either way. You got this Elvis." He patted his shoulder.

"...Alright, Mr. Phillips." he mumbled.

With that this Mr. Phillips turned and walked right past her and she looked back at Elvis  who spotted her in that exact moment, his eyes widening.

He hastily walked towards her and grabbed her hand. "Sweetie? What are you doing here?"

She looked up to him with a surprised expression. That was a good question indeed. "Oh.. um... I'm sure I lost one of my hair pins and I... went looking for it by the stairs." she quickly lied and bravely held his imploring gaze.

"And then you just stumbled inside?" he asked with a smirk.

"...Well, maybe a certain someone stole it." she retorted with a pointed look in his direction.

He defensively raised his hands. "I didn't take nothing, sweetie. Even though I may like it when your hair looks all rude and improper-" he laughed at that. "I'm no thief."

"Well, I must have lost it somewhere else then." she shrugged.

"Why'd you fix it again?"

"Pardon?"

"Your hair, I mean." he boldly reached out and pulled at one of the curls, making it fall out of place again. "I told you to leave it like that. It looks pretty like this." She lightly slapped away his hand and he gave her a pout. Her gaze drifted towards those lush lips again and she awkwardly cleared her throat after looking back into his piercing eyes. He'd seen her eyes wander and bit his lip.

"What's your name, sweetie?" he asked with a smile.

"Why do you have to know?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. So much for remaining strangers.

"Well, I can just continue calling you sweetie, or honey, or doll, or-"

"Alright, I think I get it." She laughed and took a breath, her face becoming serious again in an instant. "Hello, I'm Lorraine, it's nice to meet you, Mister...?" She feigned confusion and held out her hand for him to shake with an overly formal tone in her voice.

"Good evening dearest Lorraine, the pleasure is all mine. You can call me Elvis." he quipped with an equally formal tone and a playful glint in his eye. He snatched her hand to gently kiss the back of it and she quickly pulled it back again, the butterflies in her stomach threatening to return. He grabbed her hand again nontheless after closing the door to the dressing room and guided her towards the couch, where they both sat down. His arm came to rest over her shoulder without a care in the world and she wondered if he'd forgotten that she was here with another boy. She'd certainly like to forget.

"You have another show tonight?" she asked, facing him.

"Were you eavesdropping, sweetie?" he smiled and his lip curled again. Why did he have to be so charming?

"...I was just searching for my hair pin and you two talked so loud, of course I heard something."

"Of course." he chuckled. "But yeah, there's another show in an hour and I'll be there with my band. Hopefully I'll get it right this time."

"I thought you were good." she offered.

"Nah, that... uh really wasn't my best performance. I can do better. But tonight I couldn't really get into it, you know what I mean, Rainy?"

She pursed her lips at the nickname. "Um, I don't know. I've never really performed in front of others before. What happened?"

"...Well, I guess my mind was just somewhere else." he smirked at her and pulled her closer to him. Lorraine raised her eyebrows in disbelief, her cheeks feeling warm again.

"Are you always that forward?"

"Only with you, Rainy." he breathed and nuzzled his nose against her cheek. He smelled faintly like cologne and pepsi she noted absentmindedly, before shaking her head, annoyed with herself. She gave him a doubtful look. The way he said it and yes, even the honesty in his eyes, seemed very rehearsed, even for a naive thing like her. Lorraine really didn't want it to be true, but she couldn't help but feel like one of many, many girls. It would be so easy to just believe him. The way his mouth lightly brushed across her cheek, close to her own lips was very convincing and she tried to ignore the longing she felt.

"...Only with me huh? And what makes me so special?" she asked instead.

"Oh, sweetie, I could list a thousand things."

"Go on then." she challenged, smiling sweetly at him.

"Ya got the prettiest eyes I've ever seen on a girl. And the sweetest lips I've ever tasted." he started with his most charming smile and his eyes twinkling as he played with her loose curls.

Lorraine nodded. "Now you've listed two things. Got more?"

"Rainy, I'd actually like to quit the talking now." he mumbled, biting his lip and leaning in closer again.

No, she wouldn't give in that easily. She pushed against his chest, making him pout again. "Mister, did you forget I'm here with another boy?"

"I don't see him."

"Well, he's still waiting for me."

"And yet you are here." he sniggered confidently.

She got up from the couch with a huff. "Alright, then I'll just go back-" she yelped when she felt his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her down again. Right onto his lap. Lorraine had never felt that offended and exited ever before. Especially not at the same time. Elvis was so different from the boy she was here with, who didn't even offer to hold hands and bored her to no end. With Elvis there wasn't a calm second, exitement prickling under her skin in every single moment. Adrenaline rushed through her veins when he possessively tightened his grip on her waist.

"No, Rainy, you stay right here with me."

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm a lot more fun. And you know it."

"You're too sure of yourself."

"Have you kissed him yet?" he asked suddenly.

"You're also quite nosey, you know that?"

"I-I'm just asking, Rainy. And I want ya to t-tell me." he insisted, looking at her like a frustrated little boy.

Lorraine raised her chin. "A true lady doesn't kiss and tell." she countered with a smile and shrugged.

He huffed. "...I-I don't want ya to kiss another boy, sweetie."

"And why is that?"

"...Because they won't appreciate you as much as I do." he whispered with a tender look.

'Rehearsed, rehearsed, rehearsed' was the only thing going through her mind. Still, her body betrayed her and reacted with a weird tingling sensation in her lower belly. It was a rather nice feeling.

"Come here, Rainey." he said, lifting her up and shifting her so that she sat with her legs spread and resting on either side of him. Her heart was beating wildly in her ribcage, this new position allowing her to be impossibly close to him. Lorraine ran her hands over his chest, feeling the soft fabric under her fingers while his eyes wandered over her form, looking her up and down.

Then, without warning, he suddenly leaned up and captured her lips again, like earlier that day. She let out a squeal when his hot tongue immediately slipped into her mouth again and she tried to keep up with his tempo, remembering to close her eyes. And breathe, occasionally. She didn't want to end up almost choking again like when he first kissed her. Lorraine wasn't sure how, but this time it felt almost even better. Maybe it was because she knew what she was supposed to do now, maybe it was the more urgent, little noises he made.

Or maybe it was the thing he did next. The thing where he thrusted his hips up against hers, causing the tingling in her lower body to grow so strong that she couldn't help but cry out at the feeling. It was so intense and probably even more addicting than the kissing. She needed to feel it again, craving something she didn't quite understood herself. Her best friend, who's had a few dates with boys already told her about some things, but really feeling it was something entirely different.

"Oh god. Do it again. Please." she uttered, her voice trembling.

"Anything for ya." he answered, pushing up his hips again, this time with a little more force than before. Lorraine felt like she was falling and floating at the same time, desperately needing something to hold onto. She wrapped her arms around his neck, supressing the urge to run her fingers through his perfectly styled pompadour and tried to meet his now steady thrusts to get more friction. She felt something, him, growing under her and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Don't worry sweetie, we're both just a bit exited, that's okay. You don't have to be scared."

"But... isn't it wrong?"

"We're just having a bit of fun. Innocent fun, Rainy. And we don't have to do anything you don't want." he said, gently brushing over her cheek.

She knew it wasn't innocent. He also knew it. But she nodded nontheless, beginning to move her hips against his again, desperate for that funny feeling down there. She leaned down and laid her head on his strong shoulder, her breasts pressing up against his chest, making him groan. He placed his hands on her hips in response, slowly guiding her up and down on him. The tingling sensation began to spread through her entire body, it felt it was building towards... something.

All of the sudden Lorraine felt hyper sensitive, every little sound, every touch felt ten times more intense than before. Elvis began to sped up his thrusts, the rhythm becoming more irregular and she tried her best to match him. It was when he loudly moaned against her ear and his face scrunching up beautifully that the pulsing and throbbing in her lower belly and lady parts threw her over the edge. She sat up straight again, her back arching against her will, her head thrown back.

"Shit, sweetie, you're so perfect." he groaned and leaned his head against her chest. She moaned in response, her body twitching and her muscles spasming. Eventually the feeling subsided and she felt tired and exhausted. They held each other for a few more minutes, their heavy breathing the only thing filling the silence in the dressing room.

"That was really fun." she admitted and smiled down at him.

"Told ya so. You're a quick learner, Rainy." he smiled and patted her bottom, making her giggle. He pressed one long, sweet kiss against her cheek, before softly running his lips over hers again. She smiled into it, this one was all about being slow and gentle with each other. "Still taste so sweet." he hummed against your mouth. "I know you haven't kissed that stupid fella." She pulled away and smiled bashfully, deciding not to answer. He chuckled and ran his fingers over her bare arms.

Lorraine looked down and saw a wet patch over his crotch and figured it made sense in a weird way, her own knickers feeling damp from the sudden slick that had now gathered between her legs. He watched her intently and shook his head with a smile. "I definitely loosened up some." he remarked with a satisfied grunt, remembering his conversation with Mr. Philipps. "...Wanna stay for my next show? I-I really think I need you there, Rainy."

"Can I?" she asked hesitantly, her actual date now completely forgotten.

He nodded exitedly. "First row. I want to see you. I need to remember how to move my hips when I'm up there."

Lorraine laughed and slapped his chest. "But first, we gotta quickly wash your pants."

[streaminn]

This is my first time writing on PC! It's so much easier :)

Okay, remember how I wrote the bit about Enid going through a depressive episode in 2nd year?

This is my first time writing on PC! It's so much easier :)

What if I wrote the episode and Wednesday taking care of her? :)

Streamer Enid AU.

Also! I have a song recommendation! Love Like You from Steven Universe. Specifically the duet of Ashe and Caleb Hyles! :)

(They aren't dating yet.)

"Are you alright?"

"To be honest? No. Not in the slightest. Feel like dogshit."

"Is there anything I could do to help?"

"No, not really."

"Do you have... do you know why you feel this way?

"No."

"Melancholy, then."

The werewolf lifts up her head from it's spot of a disgustingly pink pillow.

Enid blinks at her.

Once.

Twice.

"I might be fruity but 'm not a fruit, Willa."

Wednesday feels like she's been shocked by Uncle Fester.

"What?"

"You said I have Melancholy. I'm not a fruit."

"Melancholy is sadness without an apparent reason," she wants to add venom to her voice. Call Enid Stupid and idiotic.

But it's Enid.

"Not a fruit, Enid.'

The blonde pouts, drops her head and lets out a pathetic sigh.

"Watermelon is my favorite fruit."

"I'm fond of Belladonna berries, personally."

Enid lifts her head again, this time turning on her back to face Wednesday properly.

She smirks. It's the closest she's been to a real smile since Monday.

It's Thursday.

"How are they named both so young and so old? I hear Bella and I think of Twilight- I hear Donna and I think of this old baker-lady from San Francisco who smoked like crazy and yelled at everyone. She beat a- did I ever tell this story?" Enid's grin is small. She has told Wednesday this story. Enid was tired.

She must've forgotten.

"Never." She lies.

"Well, she- she got robbed- attempted-ly robbed- is attemptedly even a word? Anyways- she almost got robbed, got the guy that broke in, and beat his ass with a rollin' pin. The cops had to pry her off!"

Enid's smile is bigger.

Her scars are lit up by light of the moon that peaks in from the window.

Her eyes glow in the dim lighting.

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

"A pleasant story," Wednesday pretends she's never heard it, "what happened to the baker?"

"She's still alive! When I went home over break, she was still kickin'! I think she started smoking more, which is horrific- seriously, this woman smokes like 2 packs a day. It's nuts."

Wednesday hums.

She stands up and walks to the door.

"Wait!"

Her head snaps back so fast she can hear the pop that sounds in her neck.

Enid's hand is outstretched, and she's standing now, when Wednesday turns around she's retracting it in embarrassment.

"I- there's not really anything you can do to help, but that didn't mean I wanted you to leave." She flushes and looks at the floor.

"I'll only be gone a moment. I'll need Thing's help, also."

Thing runs to Wednesday's feet.

Enid's face is red. Wednesday can see her eyes get glossy with tears.

"Promise you'll both come back?"

Wednesday's hand tightens on the doorknob.

"I swear on Thing's life."

She faces the door again.

"Swear it on my life too."

Wednesday turns fully at that.

"What?"

"Swear it on mine too. You care about both of us too much to lie."

Enid swallows harshly. She doesn't move. Her arms are behind her.

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

"I swear on the life of Thing Addams and Enid Sinclair that I will only be a moment."

"Okay."

Enid stares at the ground. She turns back to her bed.

"Okay."

.

.

.

Enid's on her stomach when Wednesday reenters the room.

Their room.

"Enid." Wednesday speaks quietly.

She spent time on this, but Enid needs rest.

She'd feel awful if she woke her "roomie."

"Yeah?" Enid rolls onto her back again.

What if Enid didn't like it?

Wednesday wants to vomit and scream and run away.

She doesn't.

"I have something that requires you to close your eyes and follow me."

Enid laughs- a puff of air, really, but it's better than her downcast face.

"First you're gone for 11 minutes, now you want me to follow you blind?" She stands and closes her eyes.

Enid counted.

Enid smiles.

Thing runs to his box.

Wednesday grabs her backpack.

She takes Enid's hand.

Her hand is warm. Her fingers are pink from the cold.

They start moving.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're 'bout to bury me alive!"

She sounds playful.

Good.

"If I wanted to kill you, I'd have used one of your revoltingly pink scarves to strangle you."

Pink scarves.

Her fingers are pink.

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

They're outside now.

"Nice to know you have it planned. Though," Enid almost trips over a tree's root. She barely slows in following Wednesday, "I can't help but feel hurt that you'd be so..." She doesn't need to look back to know the smug shit is smirking, "barbaric! That's the word!"

Wednesday considers letting Enid hit a branch head-on.

She moves Enid out of the way of the branch that she can't see.

"I mean, I figured after being besties for so long you'd at least think about giving me some kinda dramatic death. Throwing me into a fire as my lover begs for my life? No? You have no taste, Willa."

She imagines Enid with burn scars. She thinks they'd run up her arms like sleeves. Maybe splashed across her ribs and stomach.

The scars would be pink.

Her eyes would still be blue.

"I'd kill your lover first. No witnesses."

"You wouldn't grant me my final death-wish of being dramatic as I go?"

'I'd join you in the fire. I'd burn with you because to lose you would kill me in a different way.' It climbs up her throat and sets on her tongue.

She doesn't let it leave her mouth.

"I'd write something funny on your urn."

"Make it a pun," they're nearing the spot now, "and I'll consider forgiving you for not giving different-timeline me a death worthy of being on a K-drama."

"Done."

She leads Enid to the spot.

"Sit."

"I'm not a dog, Willa-"

She sits.

"-I take offense."

"Open your eyes."

Enid opens her eyes.

They're on a blanket in the forest. Wednesday has the laptop the sat delicately on the blanket.

The blanket's big.

"Wednesday..." she breathes softly.

"You always wanted a girls night." She sets her backpack down, zips it open, and pulls out her supplies.

Nail polish.

Cans of juice and soda.

Snacks.

A another blanket.

"You are the best roomie." Comes out soft. Like it left her mouth without her knowledge.

"I thought... if ever I should indulge you." She pauses.

The stars are bright, so far out from the light pollution. It illuminates them both.

Enid stares straight up to the sky.

The colors of the stars reflect in her eyes.

Her face is lit up, just barely.

There's pink in the blue of her eyes from the stars.

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

"It should be now."

Enid stands suddenly, faces her roommate, grabs Wednesday's face and kisses her.

Her lips are warm.

Her lips are pink.

They both stare at each other when Enid pulls away. Neither making a sound.

Enid sits back down.

Wednesday stands.

It's quiet.

Enid gasps sharply, and turns her head up to face Wednesday.

"OMG! Can we watch The Sunrise Paradise? Please?!"

Wednesday blinks.

"The... Sunrise Paradise?"

"The K-drama? It's sooooooooo good! Swear on Thing!"

Wednesday presses her lips into a line.

Enid's warmth sits on them like the taste of red wine.

"Swear both on Thing and me."

Enid's face drops, and for one, dizzying moment, Wednesday wonders if she's said the wrong thing.

But then Enid grins. Bright and blinding and beautiful and Wednesday understands why humans love.

Enid, still grinning, places her right hand over her heart.

"I, Enid Sinclair, swear on the life of Thing Addams and Wednesday Addams that The Sunrise Paradise is the most incredible show ever."

Wednesday joins Enid in her sitting.

"I trust you."

.

.

.

The show is good, Wednesday loathes to admit. The characters are well-written and the cinematography is great and the actors are a perfect cast.

"It's adequate."

Enid has a smile on her face. She hasn't stopped smiling.

"That's Wednesday for 'you're so correct that it's embarrassing me, Enid.'!"

"That's... That's 'Wednesday'?"

"It's how you talk; I wouldn't force you to talk differently, so I learned how to speak Wednesday!"

"I- uh..."

A gasp.

"Do I have the Wednesday Addams lost for words? Oh, I feel powerful!"

Wednesday wants to slap the smile from her lips.

She wants to kiss them.

"You mentioned a "Twilight" earlier."

"I don't think it's your kinda movie. It's like watching Tyler and-"

"You don't need to add more. Tyler's essence being in that movie is more than enough to sway me away."

Enid nods.

Then flops backwards, starfishing herself.

Enid looks at the stars.

The stars light up her eyes.

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

"Enid?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wrong. earlier."

"What'da you mean?"

"About my favorite fruit."

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

"They're strawberries and blueberries."

She lies next to Enid. Shoulder to shoulder.

She looks at the stars.

There's green.

Red.

Orange.

Pink.

Blue.

"Willa?"

"Yes, Enid?"

"Do you think... do you think we'll be together forever?"

Wednesday's heart beats harder.

"In what way?"

"Like-" Enid sticks her arm up so Wednesday can see her hand flip about. "-like friends?"

'Why just friends?' she wants to say.

She doesn't

"I meant it in first year when I said your mark was indelible. Even if we grew apart, there's no doubt in my body that I'd remember you."

"How did I leave an inedible mark on you? You never told me."

"Indelible."

"Answer the question."

Wednesday takes a deep breath through her nose.

She pushes it out through her mouth.

"I think... I think to lose your mark would be to lose my humanity. The compassion you taught me."

A huff.

"Everyone's got some compassion."

"Maybe. But I've always been told that I needed to express it by people who faked theirs-" She turns to look at the side of Enid's face.

She's still looking at the stars.

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

"-You live by compassion. You exude it."

Wednesday turns to face the dimmer stars above her.

"I've always learned better by example."

She feels a hand brush hers.

She takes it.

"If we were to grow apart, how would you want it to happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like. Would you want to go our separate ways hating each other? Slowing losing contact and not doing anything to get it back?"

"I would want to lose you through your choices."

She can hear Enid shift to look at her.

She turns herself to look at Enid.

The stars are brighter.

"What?" It's breathless.

"You're important to me, Enid. I want what is best for you. If we were to grow apart, I'd want to be from you deciding it's what's best for you."

"Oh."

Enid turns to face the sky.

Wednesday's still looking at the stars.

"I'd want to hate you."

"Oh?"

"'Cause, I... You mean quite a lot to me too, Willa. I don't ever want to forget you. If we grew apart, I'd want to hold a grudge because those last. Donna still knows that robber's name and she still calls him the scum of the earth. That 30 years ago when he was 15 and she was 35."

"Mother has said to be careful whom I offend. She's said spite can weather time better than love."

Silence.

Wednesday likes the quiet.

It leaves her less stimulated.

It makes it easier to burn the curve of Enid's jaw into her mind's eye.

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

"Right and wrong."

"Pardon?"

"Spite can weather it better. But I think you mistook her words. You think spite will weather time better than love. It's only a can."

Enid's thumb brushes the back of her hand.

"I think it depends on the people with the love."

Wednesday hums.

"What could make you hate me, Enid?"

"Hmmmm. That's tough."

Enid looks at her.

Wednesday never stopped looking at her.

"Set all my stuffed animals on fire and replace all my clothing with black suits."

"Simple enough."

"Are you planning on earning my- my- my ire? Could you really be so cruel?" She puts on a faux shaky tone.

"I'm only saying it's surprisingly easy to make you hate someone. Maybe I was wrong about you being compassionate. Maybe you're as spiteful and vengeance-loving as me."

"Maybe so."

Enid squeezes her hand.

She squeezes back.

"What about you? What could make you hate me?"

Her scars are pink.

Her eyes are blue.

"Make everything pink."

"Hey! Show some respect- pink is an incredible color!"

"Maybe so."

Her scars are pink.

"I just don't think I could bare to forget blue."

Her eyes are blue.

-Writer Anon.

WEDNESDAY YOU ABSOLUTELY DAMN SAP

i love the repeating of enid's colors, really slamming it in how much Wednesday thinks they're important. How much Enid is important. Also idk if its just me but the pink dye is enid's hair temporary, the pink tint of the scar will fade to something darker. But blue? Blue is enid's eyes, blue will forever stay, it wont ever change

Just like Enid's presence, enid's mark

anyways, have this lil tidbit

-

"I think i said i'd rather hate you because it would be easier," Enid says. "but.. i don't think i would hate hate you."

Wednesday eyes her, "What do you mean?"

"Hate means disliking something so much that its all i see." A breath of air comes. "But i don't think a part of me could ever hate anything about you. I'm sure that'll stand even when we're miles apart."

Wednesday stares. Is that.. a good thing? She stays silent but the slight raise of her brow was enough for Enid to explain.

There's a pause and she really wondered if she was really going to say what she's planning to. Well, in for a skip and all for a drop or however it goes.

"Maybe if you asked me last year, i'd consider it but now?" There's a shy smile on Enid's face, her eyes staring onto the curious ones of Wednesday. Its hard to even think that she could've hated the girl lying next to her. Its no wonder the words that come next is easy, like settling into a bed. "I love you too much to even do so."

Wednesday stares.

Enid scrambles for a response, the beat of her heart loud and pounding against her ears. "I mean obviously you don't have to love me back and stuff! its just part of the explanation-"

She's still staring.

"-and like Love means seeing the thing you like and dislike about a person and still willing to care for them despite that! So i could never dislike you enough to hate you because i love you alot more-"

"i think i get it," Wednesday murmurs and its in the silence that Enid realizes just how close the two are.

Now they're both staring and Enid is lowkey losing her shit inside her head because did she just confess?

what kind of dumbass just confesses accidentally!?

Her, apparently, oh my go-

"That would mean i love you too," Wednesday carefully places and just like that, she drags Enid out of the depth she just drowned herself in.

Wednesday has that gift, she supposes. Being there.

"oh," Enid replies. "Cool," she continues, hardly trying to fight back the grin that's growing on her face. "Coolio."

There's warmth in her palms and they're still holding hands.

"Cool," Wednesday agrees and she's smiling.

She's beautiful, Enid notes. If lying down and making an embarrassment of herself means she could see that-

Well, she wouldn't mind doing it for the rest of her life.

[rosanna-writer]

WIP Wednesday

One of my favorite ripple effects of the Calanmai-bond-acceptance plot in we said hello and your eyes look like coming home is Rhys getting introduced to Nesta and Elain as Feyre's mate/their new brother-in-law, rather than as the High Lord Feyre's working for. Last time Feyre's sisters saw her, she was kidnapped by Tamlin, so they're definitely in for a shock when she comes home happily mated to Rhys <3

"I saw that look on your face when Elain asked if you'd met someone at Aunt Ripleigh's. She and Father don't remember that beast taking you away, but I do. Tell me what the hell is going on, Feyre," Nesta said.

I stilled. She'd seen through Tamlin's glamour somehow, probably just because Nesta's mind was so thoroughly her own that he couldn't have violated it. And if a High Lord hadn't been able to fool her, I shuddered to think what she'd made of the sentries Rhys had sent, who were supposed to have been unseen by human eyes.

Nesta could keep a secret, so there was no point in hiding the bond from her, too. I pulled the chain with my mating band out from where I'd tucked it under the bodice of my dress. "I did meet someone in Prythian."

"You're married." The disbelief in her voice shouldn't have stung as much as it did. Nesta had never made a secret of how thoroughly she doubted any man would ever find me an acceptable bride.

"In a manner of speaking. The fae either marry or mate if the Cauldron blessed them with a soul-bound partner. I have a mate. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court."

Nesta barked a harsh, bitter laugh. I didn't know what to make of it until she said, shaking her head in disbelief, "Mother expected me to marry a prince, but you're the one who's ensnared a faerie king and become his consort."

"I didn't ensnare—"

"Then what? He forced you?"

"No!" Cauldron boil and fry me, I had no idea how to look my sister in the eye and tell her a magical stag had done it. Nesta just crossed her arms and stared me down, waiting for an explanation. She said nothing because she didn't have to—there was pure command in just the way she held herself. I took a breath and continued, "Rhys loves me, and I love him. He isn't the one who took me. That was Tamlin, the High Lord of Spring. Rhys got me out and took me somewhere safe. It's a long story, but yes, I am Lady of the Night Court now."

[mytheoristavenue]

TMNT 12 Adult!Donatello x OC 🍋 - Pick Up Lines

Summary: Terra has always been terrible at dropping hints, and she should have known better than to take Mikey's advice.

Warnings: x OC, NSFW, MDNI, adult!donnie, adult!terra, adult!everyone, 19yo!donnie, 19yo!terra, light smut, mentions of anxiety, dirty humor, bully!donnie

A/N: This revolves around Donnie x Terra (my OC, whom I've never really talked about before.) Just for a little bit of context, I added a bit of background for her! Feel free to skip if you don't feel like reading!

Terra and Tori Phelps are paternal twins living on their own in NYC. Tori is a clepto, which leads to their initial meeting with the turtles. After the ordeal is over, Leo decides that they will keep an eye on the twins, finding too many connections with them and TCRI.

During their time with the turtles, the twins are involved in an accident while investigating an entomologist's lab, the girls are mutated into bugs, Terra an Atlas moth, and Tori a Rhinoceros beetle.

Thanks to Donnie, Terra has cybernetic implants in her wrist and temple, the former injects nutrients into her veins, and the latter that translate thoughts into text to speech, to compensate for her not having a mouth. The downside to this, is that she cannot have thoughts that aren't said out loud.

Terra's nickname is 'TerrorFly', of simply 'Fly' for short, obviously created by Mikey. 'Terror' is a stretched version of her name, which he says would strike fear into her enemy's hearts, making her seem intimidating to compensate for her frailty. The 'Fly' portion was added because, at the time, he mistook her for a butterfly.

Tori's nickname is 'RhinoBeatle'. This comes from the species of her mutation, accidentally misspelled. When corrected, Mikey insisted that it was wordplay, swapping 'beet' for 'beat', because of how tough she was.

Terra could never remember a time where she was able to out right say what she was thinking- that was before the accident. Now she highly valued her private thoughts, considering she didn't have the privilege of having them. Now all her thoughts were known by her friends, and nothing could be done but wait patiently for Don to finish perfecting the retromutagen. Though, as the years passed, she lost hope and became more comfortable with her current state and situation.

In spite of herself, as time flew, she found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with Donatello, someone who, at first seemed to be the bad guy. When they'd first met, she'd even accused him of kidnapping her, and now she simply giggled at the idea. He really was a sweet guy, and she knew it was a misunderstanding, but it was still funny to recall.

-----

"Can you stop?" Tori huffed, crossing her arms at her sister as she tried to watch television. "If you can't be quiet, go somewhere else."

"Lighten up, mama," Mikey grinned. "Fly can't help that she's down horrendous for Donnie."

"Mikey!" Terra's electronic voice squealed. "No, I'm not! Don't say that!"

"You are, and it's disgustingly obvious." The beetle snarled. "All I ever hear from you is: 'Oh, Donnie looks so hot today!' and 'Oh no, Donnie has to tune my little gizmos today! I'm so nervous!' Gross."

Terra crossed her arms and pouted, stewing in humiliation. "Lay off, ladies, no need to bicker." the turtle soothed, standing up and sitting back down between them, wrapping his arms around them and pulling them in. "It's not a problem, you're just goin' about it all wrong."

"What do you mean?" the moth asked, her antennae twitching with curiosity.

Mikey grinned, lowering his voice and leaning in. "Here's what you're gonna do-"

-----

Terra tensed as she felt footsteps enter the kitchen behind her as she stirred salt into a pot of boiling water, preparing to add in some pasta for dinner.

"Hey- be careful!" Donnie's voice suddenly shouted sternly, coming behind her to carefully take the pot away. "You know your not supposed to be cooking. What if you hurt yourself? You're so, so delicate, when will you understand that?" he lightly scolded, still dangerously close to her, reaching around her to turn the burner off on the stove.

"Hot, hot, hot, hot-" a robotic voice chanted.

"No shit," he replied with an annoyed sigh. "Did you burn your hand or something?"

Terra quickly shook her head no, steeping aside to let herself calm down a bit. "Sorry, I just wanted to be nice and cook dinner for everyone..."

Don sighed, realizing how overprotective he was being before pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, I'm sorry. Of course you can cook dinner, just let me help you, okay? That way if something happens, I'll already be here."

She nodded in agreeance, pulling down the needed supplies to chop some vegetables while he took over the pasta. As the minutes ticked by, she found the air between them silent as her voice muttered lowly with every passing thought- something he'd become accustomed to and hardly paid any mind.

"Uhm..." she began hesitantly. "A-Are you boiling water? Because y-you're pretty hot?"

He snickered a bit, barely acknowledging the statement. "Really smooth, Mikey teach you that one?"

Her shoulders instantly slumped as tears pricked her overwhelmed eyes. "No." she mumbled, defeated and too bashful to elaborate.

-----

Donnie walked into the living room to find her reading on the couch, back pressed to the cushions and two pairs of arms in the air to uphold the book. "Lay on your tummy, Terra." he called nonchalantly as he pass her. He got static feedback as a response, the equivalent of an aggerated grumble. "Don't talk back to me! You wanna tear one of her wings, be my guest, but don't come crying to me to fix it."

Terra's blacked out eyes rolled as she begrudgingly fixed her posture, laying back down on her stomach, book laid out in front of her. To her surprise, the terrapin plopped down on the sofa, dangerously close to her, close enough for her antennae to tickle his thighs. Her breathing became heavy as she could tried to quail her overwhelming thoughts as they threatened to become loud enough to be audible. "Oh not this again." he suddenly complained, dramatically tossing his hand toward the book in dismissal before taking it from her.

"What?"

"This manga is so dumb," he scoffed at the pirate themed anime. "I mean, you've got this rubber kid that's got like- what? Two and a half braincells and somehow still manages to make everything work for him? I swear, it makes less sense than that stupid space show Leo likes." He ranted theatrically, irritating the moth.

"I like it!" she protested, snatching it back from him. "It's charming..."

"You would like it," he chuckled as she stewed, crossing her arms and sat up on her legs. "Hey- don't do that, don't pout." She threw her head in the opposite direction with a huff. "Don't be mad at me..." he soothed, gently putting a hand on her head, petting her hair gently. "Please, Fly?" She reluctantly dropped the act, leaning into his touch, something he reveled in.

"Speaking of pirates..." she began nervously, fiddling with the pages of the book. "Are you one?"

"Not last time I checked?"

"B-Because I got some booty for you to find..." Much to her dismay, Donnie broke out tin a fit of hearty laugher, causing her face to heat up exponentially. "Don't laugh! What's funny?"

"You are, Fly." he cooed, giving her a genuine smile, before standing up and whisking himself away to his lab, shaking his head amused.

"But...I don't wanna be funny..."

-----

"Terra, stop moving." Donnie commanded as she flinched again. "Terra!"

"Sorry!" she squeaked, flinching again. "It hurts, Don."

He sighed a bit, setting his tools down for a moment. "I know it does, but we're almost done, I promise. It'll only hurt a bit longer. Just try to be good and still for me, hmm?" She nodded hesitantly, bracing herself as the connection between her 'feeding brace' and vein was severed. "Very good," he praised, setting the device to the side for cleaning, before pressing a cotton ball to the pinhole in her arm to cease the bleeding and secured it with medical tape.

"Now then, since the nectar storage is empty, I'm gonna assume your full?" he asked, flicking the small glass tube. She nodded in confirmation. "Think you can go the rest of the day with out it?" Another nod made him smile. "Good deal. I'll make sure and reinstall if before bedtime, 'kay?"

"Okay," she replied, glancing around as she sat in her designated chair. "Is it okay if I watch you clean it? I wanna learn how to do it myself."

He thought for a moment before shrugging. "Well, you really can't fully clean it without removing it, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to do that alone. But I suppose if you'd like to keep it a little cleaner in between tune ups, I can show you how."

Minutes passed she watched intently as he showed her how to dip cotton swabs in rubbing alcohol, dragging it along the seems to pick up the dirt in them. "Huh, that's funny." he remarked, hardly paying her any mind as he continued his demonstration.

"What is?"

Nearly everyday for the past week, Terra had dropped some ridiculous pick up line on him, assumingly to make him laugh, as he'd been admittedly very stressed lately, though, today she was even quieter than usual. "No pick up lines today?"

Terra shook her head no, glancing away a tad somberly. "I didn't think you liked them," she sadly confessed, catching his interest.

"What makes you say that? I loved 'em."

The moth quickly glanced back up to him, confused and surprised. "But you always laugh?"

"Well, yeah?" he snickered, setting his tools down. "They're just flirty jokes, Terra. They don't really mean anything." A beat of silence passed as she boiled in her embarrassment. Donnie couldn't help but feel his curiosity grow as to why this seemed to have her so upset. "Why...did you want them to mean something?"

She didn't have to answer for him to connect the dots, he was able to build a conclusion simply to the tune of her translator whirring, operating with no thoughts to communicate. "Terra..." he trailed, taking a deep breath, hoping he hadn't misread any signals. "You shoulda just told me." he smiled a bit, leaning closer to her, reaching out to catch her chin and guide her gaze back to him. "Do you got a little crush on me?"

Her cheeks burned as her eyes widened far enough that he could see the slivers of white beyond her oversized pupils. "W-What?" she squeaked, her text to speech voice mummering thousands more words behind her reaction. "W-Why would you think that?"

"So...if I kissed you, you'd push me away?" he asked, almost coyly, glancing up toward the ceiling, a smirk still playing on his lips. "'Cuz I will if you ask me to." He reveled in the sight of her stirring in a frenzy, a harsh juxtaposition to his cool demeanor. Carefully, while she was distracted, he quickly reached up and switched off he translator with a snicker, before retracting his hand and looking away, dramatically trying to play himself off as innocent.

The mechanical rambling that filling the lab suddenly halted, leaving Terra frozen, gripping at her throat. It merely took her seconds to crack the case as she shot him a harsh glare, telepathically urging him to turn it back on as she struggled to find the switch. "What's the matter?" he teased, laughing at her expense before leaning in again. "Why don't you try and tell me what you want without it, after all, actions speak louder than words."

With a puff in her cheeks, Terra finally had had enough of his bullying, reaching out and squishing Donnie's cheeks together, and crashing her face to his with furrowed brows. He had to admit, it was bit awkward, kissing something that wasn't there, but he was excited by it all the same.

"See?" he chuckled, pulling away a bit, looming over her. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" She begrudgingly shook her head, pouting a bit. "Where else, Fly?"

-----

Donnie couldn't help but beam up at her as she helped herself to his lap, wings fully unfurled, hair mussed, and face looking as if she might come undone right there on top of him. He skin was decorated with his kisses and bitemarks, none actually harsh enough to hurt. He was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that this all was real, and it was her dough hips in his hands, and it was him she was on top of- it was him taking things form her and giving his own in exchange.

"Look so pretty like this," he mumbled under his breath, breaking the silence that the absence of her thoughts had created. He had spent this whole time showering her with praise, and somewhere along the way, she'd stopped reacting to it. she couldn't hear it anymore over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. "Fuck," he cursed, clenching his eyes shut as she rocked against him, feeling the most intense feeling crash against him.

He deduced that the feeling must have been mutual, ash Terra writhed, back bending drastically, and eyes watering with tears threatening to fall. Suddenly, her body fell onto his like a rock on a serene pond, and he caught her, enveloping her in a warm embrace. "Hey," he whispered, prompting her to very sleepily lift her head.

"Are you copper? 'Cuz I feel a spark with you, and that was electric."

A/N: This was very dumb (my entry, not the challenge) and I'm super embarrassed by it, but I promised I'd finish it, so here it is! 😅 Thank you to @thelaundrybitch for tagging me, and thank you to @post-apocalyptic-daydream for letting me participate!

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream, @helpyaw, @thelaundrybitch, @momii, @camillahorne26, @turtle-babe83, @fyreball66, @sharpwindow, @roseygardenfan, @witchofthenorthstar, @pheradream15, @post-apocalyptic-daydream, @killmewithafanfic

[findingnemosworld]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 … 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @sunnysideup478

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

( the gif was a must )

They had been together for two years and things were still fresh; naturally dating a football player meant that she had to grow accustomed to the fact that he would be normally around his teammates more than her, and she understood it seeing as she was barely in country due to her work - yet she couldn't help but want at least one day with him without any distractions, only that there was a distraction, a distraction in the form of his teammate Luka Modric.

She didn't hate the Croatian by any means, the man was nothing short of polite and kind towards her when she met him yet the least she expected from Sergio and from Luka as well as some form of decency, and respect.

Which lead her to this moment, sitting the chair opposed to the couch where her boyfriend and his close friend were seated playing FIFA, she had a book perched on her lap as a poor attempt to calm herself down.

She'd hear them chat while playing and wondered if she was the third wheel or if Luka was the third wheel, she knew it wasn't intentional. Sergio was affectionate, and that naturally translated into his friendships with others.

That night, after Luka had left - Sergio joined her in bed an hour after she got ready, " Amor, are you ok? " he asked her before joining her inside of her bed.

" I'm fine " She shrugs, albeit her high pitched tone was a clear indication that she was in fact, not fine.

" Amor " He said again.

" I just ... " She sighs, then pouts, " I know how much you enjoy spending time with your friends and I'm not trying to fault you for it, but I was hoping we could spend a day together at least "

Sergio finally understood and chuckled, " Amor, it was only for a few hours, and I'm here now with you, alone " he wrapped his arm around her waist.

" But still " She sighs. " I love Luka, believe me I do but this wasn't the first time, remember when we went out together and ran into him and his wife who were clearly out on a date, until you decided to invite them to join us "

" It was common decency " He shrugs, " Besides, I see nothing wrong with it "

" But I did " She retorts, " You were talking to Luka, the entire time, instead of paying attention to me "

" I always pay attention to you " He tries to defend himself.

" Not when Luka is around, sometimes I feel like I'm intruding on you two " She huffs, " I don't want to sound needy but it hurts a lot ok "

Before Sergio could respond, she turns to the other side to sleep, and he slept soon afterwards.

_____________________________________________________________

The following morning, she woke up to the smell of food which confused her for a moment until she realized that Sergio wasn't in bed, she went to the bathroom first to refresh and had gotten dressed to head to the kitchen and that's when she heard an all too familiar voice speaking which made her frown before she quickly put on a fake smile.

" Good morning " Luka smiles when he saw her.

" Morning " She said, before greeting Sergio with a kiss, she then turned to Luka. " Will you be joining us? "

Luka chuckles, " No, I actually have a whole weekend planned with Vanja since the kids are staying with her parents but I came here to deliver a very secret package that Sergio ordered "

She frowns, confused. " Secret package? "

Sergio shoots Luka a glare which made him chuckle and say, " Sergio will show you, see you two next week "

Luka left the pair together, she then turned to Sergio who smiled widely, " Sit down, I'll bring over breakfast "

She laughs and sits down, watching from where she sat. " What are you planning? " she asks him.

Sergio walks over with a tray full of dishes, he places it down. " For you my lady " he said, " Wait, let me get the orange juice " he sprints to the kitchen to get the glass then comes back.

They start eating in a comfortable wave of silence, " Amor, there's something I want to tell you "

The serious tone sent her mind into overdrive, " Ok " she said.

" There's a reason why Luka and I were spending a lot of time together " He begins.

She laughed, " He's your work wife, I know "

" Well yes, but there's another reason " He chuckles. " He's been helping me with something, something very important "

Before she can muster a response, Sergio takes out a box from his pocket, a small velvet box which was opened to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. " Sergio "

" He helped me choose this, because he said that you remind him on Vanja, you never ask for extravagant things, you're supportive, and you're a blessing to me, he said that you deserve to be happiness and I for one, believe that " He smiles, " So, will you ... take me to be your future husband? knowing full well that I'm somewhat married to him in a sense "

She laughs, wiping the tears from her eyes then nods. " I do, I love you and your affinity for Luka, because it shows how loyal you are "

" I love you " He kissed her then slipped the ring in her finger.

" I love you too " She smiled back.

[a-yarn-of-purple-prose]

For the rarepair meme, I'm not entirely sure what actually qualifies in Genshin XD but Lyney/Nilou? I do kind of like the idea of two of our performers together....

I can see a very clear rivals to lovers thing, at least rivals from where Lyney's standing of course. Kinda like this (excuse the Lynette POV, that's how the scene showed up in my mind and she is very fun to write):

*

The Traveler couldn't stay for tea but she left Lynette a box of beautiful little honey cakes brought fresh from Sumeru. She was supposed to share with her siblings and she would do that, there were far too many for her alone anyway, but that didn't mean she couldn't hide away in her room with a pot of tea and enjoy some peace and quiet. And honey cakes, of course.

It was barely time enough for her to bite into one of the cakes before Lyney invaded her peaceful tea-time, giving his usual knock and entering before she even answered.

There was urgency in his voice as he said, “Dear sister I found out the reason behind the last few nights' shows lull in ticket sales.”

Even if Lynette was inclined to ask, she knew better than to do that. When Lyney has a plan you can see it in the very way he moves, and from the way he sauntered to the table and pulled the chair closest to her, this was a fun one. At least fun for him.

“We,” he said, eyes twinkling, “have a rival!”

Now, if she wanted him to say his piece and go away, she was forced to show attention. So she deposited her teacup on its saucer and tilted her head toward him, waiting.

“A Sumerian dancer, come here to perform for a half-season, and a famous one at that. It's all over the Steambird! We can't just lose tickets for all that time!”

Lynette blinked slowly at him, then refilled her teacup. “And your plan?”

“Who said I have a plan?”

She smiled and waited.

“I've been to her act. She's very good. Disciplined. Working elemental magic while dancing must be very tiring but the results are,” a brief, breathless pause, “stunning.” There was a little too much shine in his eyes as he said that. “As is her-- I mean, her movements. The way she dances, it's like the rest of the world stops existing, I can't help but wonder…”

As Lyney's eyes took a dreamy, faraway look, she knew it. It was a bad plan. The worst kind. She felt her right ear twitch, an old tell she usually keeps under control. That is how worried he made her.

Lyney noticed as well, he snapped back to attention, said, “That's when I knew I had to do something.”

“That plan. You shouldn't.”

“Beloved sister, I said nothing--”

The teacup clicked in its place on the saucer. “You want to distract her from work, maybe make her go away earlier. Don't. It'll backfire, you're too smitten. Remember what Father said about you and love schemes.”

The mention of Father had him straightening up, as usual, lifting his chin as if trying to stand a little taller, fill bigger shoes. Then he said, “Well, we'll see about that, won't we?”

And that was in the wrong tone. Not so much defiant as… She studied his face for a moment. There was that smile, a bit too much eagerness there. This could only mean the plan was already in motion. “Don't say…”

The smile bloossomed as if every single drop of confidence he had nurtured it. “I'll be taking her to Lady Furina's new play tomorrow!”

Nothing she could possibly say would work at this point, so she saved herself the energy and took a sip of her tea. Afterward, she said, “Then good luck on your date with the beautiful dancer.”

Lyney paled, the smile dropped just enough that she knew he had only now caught up with what he had done. “Thank you,” he said, quite like an automaton. Then he walked away, a little spaced out.

Lynette hoped her brother would pull himself together enough to be his usual self on the date. That should be enough to charm anyone. And if that didn't work, well then she'd have to do something, wouldn't she? Maybe the Traveler would even help.

[fandomdancer]

Attack of the Domestics

A/N: Encouraged by @michysminions7 and inspired by @jenksel to post this. I've gotten very insecure about my work and barely write anymore, other than little author-insert fluffs. This is one of those, but I still hope you enjoy reading it.

Fandom: Baa Baa Black Sheep

Pairing: Bobby Anderson/OC

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,116

Summary: Bobby's having a bad time at the party the night before a mission. He tries to find some alone time to sulk - and overhears an unexpected conversation.

Damn Wiley, Anderson thought as he stomped towards the beach. How in the hell had he managed to lose a girl to Wiley? Last he checked the man hadn't been anywhere near him, and then poof! Boyish charm and floppy hair and that genuine puppy dog smile and the cute brunette Anderson had just been about to score turned all her attention from the action at hand.

It's not fair, he thought grumpily to himself. Though if he was being honest, he was more upset about losing a girl to Wiley than he was about losing a girl. He usually had no problems chatting up the ladies but he could get a little overenthusiastic. Not to mention his height sometimes worked against him. Ladies like 'em tall? Not always!

He wasn't surprised to find another person on the beach, but he did do a double take when he realized it was another woman. One of the nurses, no doubt, and she looked a little familiar. Had she said hi to him earlier? He'd been so focused on the brunette (whose name he could no longer remember) that he couldn't recall if someone else had spoken to him. But there sat another nurse, wearing a white midriff-baring top and a pair of khaki shorts. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her elbows rested on them. Her head was in her hands. Wait, was she crying?

Anderson felt a flare of anger bloom in his chest. Who the hell was enough of a jerk to leave a woman crying on the beach? He started out of the brush towards her…and a voice interrupted him.

"Lori?"

Anderson dropped to the ground, praying he hadn't been seen.

The woman lifted her head, and in the dim light from the buildings behind them he could see she did have tears on her face. It was a plain face, framed by lovely brown hair, but there was something haunting about it. And yes – she was familiar. Anderson couldn't help but stare.

"Mags?" the woman asked.

"Lori, what are you doing away from the party?" Another nurse, older, blonde, strode purposefully down towards her. Anderson had seen her before for sure. She was one of the more no-nonsense women, the kind you couldn't use your best lines on because she'd laugh in your face, ruffle your hair, and call you cute. The last thing any guy wanted when he was looking to pick up a woman was for her to think he was cute.

"I'm fine, Margaret," the woman…Lori, Anderson thought, her name is Lori…replied.

"The hell you are, you're crying." Margaret sat in the sand beside Lori, thankfully closer to Anderson so Lori kept her head turned in his direction. He didn't want to listen in on the conversation struggling to hear what Lori had to say.

Of course, if he was the gentleman he professed to be, he wouldn't listen in on this conversation at all.

"I'm fine!" Lori wiped her eyes. "I'm just not in a party mood."

"After seeing the pickings in there, I'll buy that," Margaret said, (bitch, Anderson thought, then flinched at the sound of his Mama's voice in his head chastising him for such language), "but you were so excited earlier today. I heard you girls talking, I know you were all anxious to meet up with Major Boyington's men."

That's right, Anderson thought proudly.

"I was. Am. Just…oh, Mags, it's stupid. Don't ask me."

Any self-respecting man would walk away when a woman said that to him. But Anderson knew enough to know that when a woman said that to another woman, it was an invitation.

He was right…sort of. "What's so stupid? You came, you saw, you decided not to play. You want to wait for the next opportunity to have some fun, that's your choice."

Lori looked away, and suddenly her shoulders shook. Anderson twitched instinctively, wanting to step out and comfort the crying woman. It was basic manners, not to mention the fact that comforting a crying woman upped your chances of getting lucky later.

"Lori!" Margaret leaned over and put a hand on Lori's shoulder. "Look, if you're not interested, there's nothing wrong with that…"

"I know…" Lori blurted, her voice distorted with sobs. "I know you all think…I'm a prude."

"Oh, don’t be silly, we don't think that…"

"Yeah, you do, I heard Melinda talking the other night."

Ah, Melinda, that was the girl he'd lost to Wiley. And now he recalled, he had spoken to Lori. She'd said hi while he and Melinda were talking. But he'd been deep into weaving a setup for himself and Melinda to leave, and hadn't really responded to her.

He felt a little guilty about that. After all, she was out here crying. Could it be because of him?

"What you do with whoever you want is your business," Margaret said. "You don't have to brag about it as much as Melinda does. The whole camp knows who she goes around with almost before she actually goes around with them."

Anderson's lip curled. Huh…maybe he needed to go save Wiley. He'd seen nurses play with the feelings of his friends before. The last one had almost torn the Black Sheep apart.

"Just when people ask me how my night went and I don't want to tell them…they assume I'm just a…a…"

"Cold fish?"

Lori nodded.

"And you're not?"

Lori stared at her and Anderson found himself very, very interested in her answer. He'd save Wiley later.

"I haven't been with a man in months," Lori finally said. "Not since before I came here. And you know how that turned out. I just haven't been interested. No one has interested me…but…but now..."

Anderson's eyebrows lifted.

Margaret tilted her head. "Are you saying there is someone in there that you're interested in?"

Lori nodded.

"Then why aren't you in there?"

"I don't have a chance. Melinda's got him."

Wiley. Anderson couldn't help the twist of disappointment in his stomach. It was one thing to lose a girl face to face to Wiley, but hearing another crying about losing her chance with Wiley because he was already taken…well it definitely made Anderson want to leave the area. He started to unravel from his hiding position to slink away. Maybe he wouldn't save Wiley from Melinda. Seemed like the guy could use a little bad luck with women.

"That doll dizzy with the fluffy blonde hair?" Margaret laughed. "I've seen him before, Lori. He chases as many women as Melinda chases men. You're not missing out."

"His hair wasn't fluffy and blonde, it was short and black," Lori said.

Anderson stopped moving. What?

Margaret echoed him. "What? Black hair?"

"Black hair," Lori repeated. "And a beautiful smile. He's got these really full lips. You know, the kind you know would feel good on yours? And when he smiles it stretches up into his eyes and squints them, like his whole face is enjoying whatever made him smile. It's an honest smile."

"You're talking about one of Major Boyington's men?"

"Yes. He was talking to Melinda. I guess she turned him down or something because the guy you're talking about was definitely not him. He was really tall. Like six feet or more."

Now Anderson was paying so much attention, he was holding his breath.

"Oh, yes!" Margaret exclaimed. "Yes, tends to stay in the back, keeps his hands in his pockets. He slouches, probably because he's a giant…"

Like you're a giant pain in the…Anderson shook his head to stop the thought.

"I never got his name," Lori said.

Anderson clawed his fingers into the ground, staring at her. My name's Bobby!

"Well, he's not talking to Melinda anymore," Margaret said. "Why don't you come back in and see if you can salvage the night?"

Anderson wondered how fast he could get back to the party without the women seeing him. His head was spinning. Oh yeah…he wasn't breathing. He exhaled hard and yanked in a breath of sea air.

Lori shook her head. "I…look, he's only going to want one thing. And…"

"And what's the problem with that?"

"Like I said, it's stupid."

"Lori, what are you talking about?"

Lori suddenly threw up her hands. "I don't want to just fool around tonight with him, Mags! I know, I know I have no idea who he is! I don't even know his name! But seeing him smile and laugh like that…it was like…my entire life, I've been living in the dark, and someone turned on the light. I want to cook breakfast for that smile. I want to hear that laugh while watching one of those old Buster Keaton pictures. I want to feel his arms hold me and hear his voice tell me I'm safe from everything in the world."

Anderson was aware his mouth had dropped open. He wasn't aware of much else.

"Lieutenant Beaufort, you had an attack of the domestics," Margaret sighed. "It happens. You see a tall, strong, confident man like that, and everything inside you says he's the one for you. But Lori…he's a pilot. The most he can do for you right now is just right now. Tomorrow he could be dead. If you go filling your head with dreams of the future and tomorrow he gets shot down…how many more like him will break your heart before you give up? You need to focus on the right now and let the future come when it's ready. Now if you can't fool around with him tonight, I understand. But don't deny yourself a good time because you're too busy trying to live in the future."

Anderson wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to shout at Margaret or run for the party or just run as far from the situation as possible. The way he saw it, everyone was right here. He might get shot down tomorrow. But did that mean thinking about the future was forbidden? Was it bad to try to think about life after the war?

And he couldn't get her words out of his head. "...like someone turned on the light."

She certainly was pretty, though not the best-looking nurse in the bunch. And she wasn't interested in fooling around, so his chances of getting any tonight were zilch if he pursued her. She wanted more and he had no idea if he wanted…

Well…some. He had some idea. He thought about home often. New Orleans. He'd had a girl before the war had started but once he'd announced he was heading to the South Pacific, she had told him she couldn't wait for him. And it would be nice to have someone. It would be nice to think about a future in New Orleans, with a woman that stated he'd brought light into her life. But he couldn't really trust Lori would stick around. Emma sure hadn't and she'd been his high school sweetheart.

He supposed whether or not he trusted Lori didn't preclude him from getting to know her a little more. But he still needed to get back to the party without being seen.

"I can't do it, Margaret. Not tonight. Put me back on duty in the hospital, will you? I'm sure Sophie wants to go to the party."

Margaret sighed deeply. "Are you sure?"

Lori laughed, the sound bitter and beautiful all at once. "No! But if I go back there and I see him, I don't know what I'll do! I don't know if I can just let go of this and have a great night and wake up tomorrow and go on with my life. Maybe I can. But if I can't…I don't want to know what it'll feel like if I can't."

Margaret stared at her for a long time before nodding. "You are going to have to cultivate some inner strength if you're going to survive your assignments here, Loretta," she said. "If you care this much about everything, it's going to kill you." She stood and helped Lori up. "I'll drive you back to the hospital."

"Thanks," Lori replied. "And…look, don't tell any of the girls, okay? Just…tell them I wasn't in a party mood and decided to leave.”

"Fine."

The two women passed by Anderson and he focused up at Lori. His stomach turned when he saw the broken look on her face, and it was all he could do not to jump up and say I'll take it from here. She wanted him, and he'd be damned if he missed an opportunity to at least speak to her.

He had to find a reason to go to the hospital. Tonight.

[hils79]

Hils Watches Love Me, Love My Voice - Ep 4

First of all shoutout to this post because when I tried to take the below screenshot it was suddenly blocked despite all the other episodes being fine. Turned off Hardware Acceleration as instructed and it immediately worked. Reblog to save the life of a liveblogger/reviewer

I love that Gu Sheng having to work with one of Mo Qingcheng's fans is the closest we've had to any sort of real drama, and this is being played as funny rather than angsty or dramatic. Like 'awkward, my employee has a crush on the dude who keeps flirting with me'

I love how brazen he is. Openly admitting he's trying to get a girlfriend. I wonder who it could be... Also, LOL at Gu Sheng in the background pretending not to eavesdrop

I would like a man with a nice voice to recite poetry to me late at night when I can't sleep

That does not sound pleasant

Confession: I am in my 40s and it literally never occurred to me that conch shells have creatures living inside them or that you could eat them. I mean I couldn't eat them because I am allergic to mollusks but people can and do eat them. Every day is a school day as they say. I do enjoy these little recipe segments.

He just did the dorkiest little laugh it's a shame I can't capture video/sound. So cute.

Oh no I'm in danger. Look how soft he looks in this sweater.

I was just thinking this is the most heterosexual drama I have watched in ages. But there we go the intern has a crush on Mo Qingcheng. Get in line, my dude.

Wait, what? Don't the rest of them literally work and live in a recording studio? One that is specifically designed for them? Why do they need to use hers? I mean obviously I am ready for them to finally meet but do better with your plot device shenanigans.

Uh...you've literally had a crush on him since before this drama started.

Yes, it's definitely that and not all the cute flirting you've both been doing

Ohhhhh! Now I understand! She was just going to record her parts in her studio. I thought they were all going to record together for some reason. Except apparently he wants them to do that? Amazing.

The intern has a lil dragon/dinosaur on his shoulder. Adorable.

This poor girl. Everyone is staring at her and being weird because they all know Mo Qingcheng has a massive crush on her.

I would literally die of embarrassment if I was her

Of course he had to cancel. It's only been 4 episodes. I did think it was a bit soon for them to be meeting in person.

Excellent!

Oh, wait, I was wrong. Maybe they are going to meet.

This is all very cute

I mean I'm not sure anyone would expect a cardiologist to also be a famous voice actor

He sure is! Also, I headcanon manager lady as bi now.

Yeah, I tend to remember people if they have a cute animal with them

The boys are making fun of how he eats. That's how you know they're a family

I thought she said she had to go back to school after she'd recorded her song. I mean don't get me wrong I would totally ditch school to spend the day with my voice crush who turns out to be hot and also a doctor

I love how much they roast him

Ooh we're at the getting into each other's personal space stage already

He's so pretty

[thelazyecrivain]

Fluffbruary - Day 15 (radio)

Fifteen day of @fluffbruary, using the prompt "radio"

Read on AO3

French version

-----

"He told me he was back and I should stop complaining." Says the voice on the phone. In the studio, everyone makes a face. 

"He cheated on you for two years without an ounce of remorse, he's someone who won't change for love. And I doubt there's any love there. You have to leave him, he already destroyed your trust in him, you will destroy yourself if you stay with him." 

Everyone nodded, but the young woman on the other end of the line said nothing.

"The question you have to ask yourself is: 'What do I want to build with this person? Ask yourself if you see yourself with him in several years."

Still nothing, John signalled to the control room if the call was disconnected. They signalled that it was not.

"Leila? Are you still there?" It was a fake name, she wanted to keep her identity anonymous so they had agreed on a name at the beginning of the call.

"Yes... I'm here, it's just that- I love him, but he hurt me so much I could never forgive him." She's on the verge of tears, her voice trembling. "I don't want to see him anymore, but part of me wants to believe, to hold on to it."

"I can't give you a magic solution, I can only help you with your choice." Reminds John.

"Remember the questions you can ask yourself. It can help you a lot." Brings up Mike.

"I know it sounds silly, but talk to your close friends. If they really care about you, they'll tell you what they really think. And they know you and your boyfriend better than we do. Having an outside perspective can only help. Sometimes you just have to take a step back from the situation."

"Yeah, I'll do that. I've got my best friend who won't hesitate to tell me what she'd do in my place."

"Perfect! I'm sorry but we'll have to leave, our time is up. It's been a pleasure Leila, I hope everything works out for you."

"Thank you so much, John. That really helped me. Good luck with the rest."

The control room signals that the call is definitely cut off, and that he should finish the show.

"Ladies, gentlemen and others, this is unfortunately the end of our show. Sorry for all the people waiting for us to take your call. But remember that our advice doesn't just apply to one person. You can apply it to your situation to help you move forward. And if you have any feedback, other tips for us or to help our callers, please feel free to put it on our website doctoroftheheart/kingscollege.com."

The "on air" light went out and John sighed with relief. Finally finished. 

He joined the university radio station three months ago. It's entirely student-run. Mike told him about it when he complained that he wanted to play rugby but it was too time-consuming, so he offered to join the team and do a show once a week. This gives John time for his medical classes, and every Wednesday night for three hours he gets out of his shabby flat to think about other things and help people with their heart problems with Mike. They call the show " Doctor of the Heart". 

"The ratings are up again from last week. Looks like your show is doing well, John." Comes a deep voice behind him. John jumped, not having seen the man coming up behind him.

"Sherlock, you scared me."

What he hadn't thought about when he joined the radio was that he might find the most handsome and intelligent man he'd ever met. Sherlock has had an effect on him since he arrived and if he thought it would pass with time, he was wrong and feels like he's falling for the man with the impeccable suit and the unbeatable brain a little more each week

"Must be the experience." Mike replied to Sherlock's remark.

He was known to be in one relationship after another, and when he saw Sherlock look up at the mention of his former partners, he never regretted it more.

"We're going for a drink, do you want to come with us?" Molly asks. She's in charge of programming and despite her shyness, everyone respects her ideas and requests. Everyone loves her, especially Greg, the one in charge of the budget. 

"Good idea!" John said.

Mike nodded too and against all odds, so did Sherlock. He's known to be anti-social and grouchy. Not that John doesn't like him coming with them.

They leave the building where the radio station is located, and head for the nearest bar. It's eight o'clock at night, the young people are just starting their parties, and if John didn't have an exam the next morning, he would have stayed until late. 

Instead he just drinks a pint of beer, talking with the others about future projects, organisation, but also about college, courses, the most boring teachers, and their love life. Young people's topics.

"And that's how Sherlock managed to make the toughest teacher in the whole college cry. I thought everyone was going to applaud him. Sherlock did the impossible." Laughs Molly. Everyone is almost folded in half, Sherlock with a proud sneer.

"He wanted to know what I thought. He never made it clear he was talking about the course, not his dead dog." Explained Sherlock.

The laughter resumed around the table.

"Oh my God, you're my hero." Said John between laughs. Not everyone missed Sherlock's blush, except John.

The conversations continue throughout the evening, until one by one they go home as the clock ticks down, so that John ends up alone with Sherlock and Mike. The latter is his roommate, and seeing his friend's slightly drunken state, John thinks it's wiser to go home with him. He's never held his liquor, which makes John smile but also sigh as he remembers that he's the one who'll have to drag him to bed. 

"Joooooohn. You know you're the best mate ever." Says Mike as John pulls him out of his seat and off the bar. John laughs while trying to keep his friend upright. 

"You tell me that every time you have more than three drinks."

"Need any help?"

John turned to Sherlock. He accepted without thinking. A little help wouldn't hurt him. John put an arm around his shoulders and Sherlock, because of his height, took Mike over his arm and together they managed to get him out of the bar, towards their flat. Thank God they are only a five minute walk away.

"John is the best thing that could happen to you." Mike said to Sherlock.

John rolled his eyes but couldn't stop his blush. When he attempts a look at Sherlock, he seems captivated by what Mike is saying.

"He's a good friend. He'll do anything to help you. And he's handsome too." Mike finishes with a wink. Sherlock smiled, amused.

"He seems to like you."

"Whenever he drinks a little too much, he likes to say that everyone is great. You shouldn't listen to him, the alcohol exaggerates everything he says."

"I don't think he's wrong." Says Sherlock while looking him up and down suggestively. John is speechless. Is he hitting on him? John hopes with all his heart that he is. He loves his friend Mike, but what he would give not to have him between them right now.

The road continued like this, Mike talking about his great friends, especially John. Sherlock listens to everything he says, and smiles when Mike compliments the future doctor. 

***

"His room is on the right." 

Sherlock let go of Mike and went to open the door, John following behind with the weight his friend has become. He set him down -threw him down to be honest- on the bed and stretched his tired muscles before starting to prepare his friend for the night. If he didn't do it now, he would fall asleep and it would be impossible to wake him up.

"Help me take off his shoes." John asks Sherlock.

Sherlock did so and soon Mike was rid of his shoes, John taking off his shirt while the dark-haired man removed his coat. Mike didn't move, half asleep, muttering into his beard. Without telling him, Sherlock searched and quickly found his pyjamas and handed them to John. The latter thanked him, still as surprised as ever to be beaten to his every word and gesture.

It was too cold in the flat to leave him in just his boxers so John put the T-shirt on him, and started to take off his trousers when Mike stood up suddenly to the surprise of the other two men. "You should do that with Sh'rlock." He said with a wink. John blushed and didn't dare look at Sherlock. Instead, he continued to remove his friend's trousers and finally slipped him under the sheets.

He walked out of the room, Sherlock at his heels.

"Sorry about..." He said with a wave of his hand towards Mike's room.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "That was fun to see." He said with an amused look.

John offered him something to drink but Sherlock refused, saying he had to go home. Something to do with his brother apparently. John was disappointed, this is one of the few times he is finally alone with him. He accompanies him down the block. He's a gentleman after all.

"Thanks for the help, I don't know how I would have done it without you." Says John once he gets to the bottom of the building.

"It was a pleasure." Sherlock looked him straight in the eye, a slight smile on his lips. The streetlights lit up his face, making it soft but as if untouchable. 

When John thought he was going to turn to leave, he caught him walking towards him. He kissed him gently on the cheek before pulling away to give him a seductive smile. "Good night, John." He said in his deep voice before abandoning him outside the building. 

John watched him go, his mouth hanging open, the feel of his lips on his cheek. When he saw Sherlock turn the corner, disappearing from his field of vision, he woke up from his trance and started to run after him. He caught up quickly, tugging on his arm to get his attention.

"You could do it properly next time." He said before pulling him towards him to kiss him. 

He felt Sherlock tense in surprise before relaxing, his hands settling in the hollow of his back to pull him closer. John framed his face, diving even deeper into the kiss. He's kissed dozens of people, but never with such intensity, a shiver running through his body as their lips move together.

They are breathless when they part, not letting go of each other.

"I'll try to remember that next time." Sherlock finally says. Still dazed from the kiss, it took John a while to figure out what he was referring to. They laughed stupidly. "I'll have that last drink after all." 

John could only smile and pull him by the hand towards the flat.

Everyone applauded them when they returned hand in hand the following week to John's radio show.

(Tell me if you wish to be tagged !) @topsyturvy-turtely @missdeliadili

[iamreykylotrash]

the sister i didn't protect.

Nesta walked through her sister's home, admiring her paintings.

Her artwork was beautiful, capturing the glory of the Night Court, her home of Velaris, her mate, and her child. This was where her happiness lay, with a family that she found and confided in.

Nesta couldn't help but crack a smile. Her sister no longer had to fight for survival. Instead, she was living, thriving even, like a flower blooming.

But that smile quickly left as Nesta reminded herself of their life in the Mortal Lands, remembering all that Feyre had done and never having an ounce of help from any of her family members.

It was a memory that Nesta turned away from, wanting to move on and see the brighter future that was in store for each of them. But after spending so much time in the darkness, it was hard not to look back.

Nesta knew that she could have done more, but her mother's words echoed in her mind.

Feyre will take care of you.

She had entrusted her younger sister with the well-being of her family, while all Nesta had to do was marry someone who had status and wealth, bringing her family out of poverty. She had spent so much time examining herself in the mirror, wondering what she could do to gain a fine man's attention, hoping that one day, money would land back in their laps again.

But for the time being, it was Feyre's job to hunt, kill, and gain enough to survive.

As the eldest Archeron walked down the long corridors, she could see the doors to the throne room wide open, the yellow light of the torches blinking through the hall.

When she walked into the room, Feyre was standing beside the window, looking out to her court. She was wearing a black dress, its hem trailing the floor. She was decored in diamonds, shining as they caught the light.

She was a High Lady in every way, even without a crown.

"Isn't it late for you to be up?" Feyre asked, still staring out the window.

Nesta let out a breath, "I didn't realize I had a curfew." She says.

Feyre scoffed, "You don't. But I expected you to be in your room all day, reading a book, or drinking tea. I know that since it's your last day, you are ecstatic to get back to Autumn." She told her.

It was true. Nesta couldn't wait.

After visiting her sisters for the week, Nesta had craved to back to her own home in the Autumn Court, wanting to crawl into her bed and warm up against her husband. She wanted to feel his arms around her, bask in his scent, and make love until she was wasted with him.

She couldn't wait for the sun to rise.

"I'm sure your husband will be delighted to see you," Feyre said, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Nesta ignored it, "I don't need to talk about my personal life with you. My choices are my own. No one else's." She says.

Feyre nods, turning to her, "Of course. You made it pretty clear when you ran away from us. But you have made some poor choices so far, Nesta." She tells her.

Nesta knew where this conversation was going. Feyre wanted to get as much information about her relationship with Eris, not knowing that they truly cared for each other. Feyre believed Nesta was plotting against him, preparing to take him down, along with Autumn.

"As I said, my relationship with Eris is none of your concern. He is my husband. That's all your getting from me." Nesta says.

"But do you love him?" Feyre takes a step towards her.

Nesta did. Her heart ached for him.

But she'd never reveal that, especially to her sister.

"Do not push me, Feyre," Nesta warns her.

The youngest Archeron sighs, "Does Elain know the truth? Do you tell her about him and your true feelings? Is she the only one you confide in?" She asked.

Nesta stayed silent. Elain did know. She knew all of it, seeing as her middle sister was the one that she had stuck with all of her life, protecting her and entrusting her with secrets that no one knew. There were certain things she wouldn't tell her, but other than that, Elain knew everything.

Feyre's eyes brimmed with tears, "Why do you hate me? What have I done to you?" She breathed.

Nesta shook her head, "I don't hate you, Feyre. I never have." She tells her.

"Don't lie to me. I stayed up countless nights wondering what I did to deserve such silence from you. You never tell me anything. You never want to be with me. You always keep your distance. But with Elain, it's the opposite." She says.

Nesta swallows, "You and I had never had a relationship-" she starts, but Feyre interrupts.

"Because you never wanted to. All I ever wanted was to be close to my sisters and hope that whenever I needed them, they would be there for me. But it seems that the only time that you ever truly cared for me is when food would be served at the table." Feyre snaps, her anger seeping through.

Nesta sighs, "Feyre, it's difficult to explain. I know I should have done better, but..." she trails off.

"You can't even deny it. All of those years I kept us alive... and I have never heard you say thank you. I never received any love or support from you. I never even received the minimal help I asked of you." Feyre says, hitting Nesta with every word.

Nesta stalks towards her, “You knew how to handle everything! You were the one who caught the animals, skinned them, cooked them, and served them properly. I didn’t learn any of it! Father would tell me to do anything else, but I couldn't help you!” She told her.

She remembered when Feyre struggled to open a canned jar of beets, hearing her grunt. Nesta was about to offer assistance when her father grabbed her arm, shaking his head. He wanted Feyre to do everything on her own, even when she was desperate for help from either one of them.

But all Nesta could do was watch.

"Don't you dare lie to me! Since when did you care about our father's opinions? You always snapped at him when he gave you orders! You told him off when he tried to stop you from doing what you wanted! There was no limit to you! But now when it comes to me, that's when you decide to blame it on him?!" Feyre exclaims.

Nesta had never heard such anger from her sister, seeing as she was the one who kept her emotions to herself most of the time. She could see this rage was decades in the making, but it was now when it all started unraveling.

"I felt it was better for you to be alone!" Nesta yelled at her.

Feyre's tears fall, "I didn't want to be alone!" She screams.

Nesta couldn't say a word.

"I needed you. I needed Elain. I needed my sisters. Why do you think that I wanted you to train in the mountains? It's because I didn't want to lose you, to see you dead on the apartment floor. You were wasting your life. I know I shouldn't have pushed you, but Nes... I was so afraid of losing you." Feyre cries.

She continued, "I wanted all of us to be together. I wanted you to be happy here, even if it wasn't with Cassian. I wanted us to grow a bond with each other. I wanted us to finally be sisters instead of strangers. But I see now that it can never happen."

Feyre took a step back, "You married Eris. You became an adversary of the Night Court; of me. Your choices bore these consequences and there is nothing I can do. After this, you will head back to the Autumn Court and we might never speak again, but I want you to know this, Nesta-"

Nesta raises a hand, "Don't. Feyre, don't. I don't want to hear anymore." She says.

The Lady of the Heir sighs, finding the right words to say, "I should've stepped up. I should've taken the bow and braved the wilds on my own instead of you. You were just a little girl who had grown up too soon. I am sorry that I wasn't there for you. I am sorry for everything that happened to you, including Under the Mountain. You deserved better than us." Nesta states.

She steps towards her, taking Feyre's hands into hers, "But you get to live now. You get to thrive and be happy. I can't promise that I will be there for you, but know that I love you. Know that Elain loves you. And I wish you nothing but the best because it's what you deserve." Nesta says.

She lifts her sister's hands, pressing a kiss on each of them, "I'm sorry," she whispers before she lets them go, taking a step back.

Feyre sobs, "I don't want you as my enemy, Nesta. If you go back to the Autumn Court, that's exactly what we'll be. Neither of us can stop that." She tells her.

Nesta nods, "Your happiness lies here. Mine lies with the Autumn. Maybe one day I'll tell you everything, but know that I found where I am supposed to be. You are not an enemy in my eyes, little sister." She says to her.

"And nor are you in mine, Nes." Feyre breathes.

The eldest Archeron bowed her head once, before turning away from her sister, heading back into her rented room in Velaris. She changed into her nightgown, sitting on the windowsill as she admired the sparkling darkness.

She did not miss the hurt and pain that came with this court. This is where her trauma haunted her and where her life almost ended. This is where her choices were robbed and her life was decided for her. And this was where her heart was broken by the male she believed she was destined to be with.

No, she would not miss this court.

But she would miss Feyre, knowing that this was truly where she belonged. This is where she thrived, along with her mate, Rhysand, who would do everything to protect her. He was her happiness, along with their son.

Even though they had their fights and arguments, Nesta was proud of her little sister, knowing that she finally found peace.

[messybestiechronicles]

Anger

Beware: this is a long post, haha.

When were you introduced to anger?

I'll tell you about my anger origins. It all started long ago when I was a kid. I want to say... 7 or 8 years old? I fell into the trap of being the stereotype of being in an African American household with a single mother. I fostered my hatred for my dad for years. This was the beginning of the harsh lessons anger took me through. I remember it like it was yesterday...

My dad would promise to pick me up so we could hangout together. I'd always get excited to see him, even if it was just for a few minutes. It would be around 8 or 9 PM & I'd still be up waiting for him. That's when I learned my first hard life lesson: Empty promises. I was introduced to depression at this time in my life. From then on, anyone who told me they'd do something & didn't pissed me off to my very core. I lost the inability to trust in anyone, especially men. "All men lie", I thought. That phrase affected me well into puberty & beyond.

I'm going to go into a bit more detail on this, so beware: I was going through puberty at this time. Oh boy, I was one angsty ass teenager! Middle school, I fell in love with rock music. I'd blast Thirty Seconds to Mars, Evanescence, Linkin Park, Breaking Benjamin, Shinedown... you name it! In high school I lived through the era of Jersey Shore at it's peak. Aeropostale, American Eagle, Holister, and Hot Topic (my personal fave) were all the rage. Dubstep & screamo entered my life at such an interesting time as well.

It was rough back then; I was one of few black people, let alone a black woman who loved some Black Veil Brides & Falling in Reverse. Not only did I feel like an outcast at school, I felt like an outcast in my own home. I love my mom, she did the best she could with the help of my grandparents. Although my dad was indeed a piece of shit, things with my mom & grandparents were difficult at times.

As I said before, I felt like an outcast in my family. I knew I was different; I wasn't the stereotypical black girl. My mom, being a single mother, worked a lot so we didn't bond as much as I would've liked. I could sense a lot of her frustration between work & raising two girls by herself. She'd definitely get angry; she'd mostly scream at me all the time. I became super sensitive towards it. It was like hearing a lion roar, if I'm being honest. Anytime I voiced how I felt, she'd be dismissive. This isn't to bash my mom though; again, I love her dearly. For example, I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've witnessed her & my dad fight whenever he decided to come visit. I watched my mom internalize a lot of her anger towards my dad & LASH THE FUCK OUT whenever she'd see him in person. From then on I learned my second lesson: I didn't know how to handle my anger & how to calm down (especially enough to think rationally). From here, anger became my new best friend. I know my mom tried her best... After all, it isn't until now that I've realized that's how she was taught to deal with her emotions. It all started with my grandmother.

Now my grandmother, this woman was my second mother. My mom used to bounce around from different apartments because money was tight back then. I craved more stability, so I chose to stay & live with my grandparents. Now I love my grandma down... But DAMN, that lady's mean!!! Now me & my granny have a close bond. Yet the older I got, the more I began to understand how & why my mother handled her emotions a certain way. My grandma isn't one to show too much emotion; There were certainly when I'd seen her extremely angry. The only time I'd ever seen her cry was when my granddad passed away.

My grandmother played a big part in shaping me into the woman I am today. She pushed me to graduate both high school and college (the first in my family to do it). I truly thank both her, my granddad & my mom for pushing me. However, I find myself regretting not following my own path in my early 20s. I was so focused on making them proud of me, I found it hard to think for myself. Originally, I wanted to major in Photography or work in a library... I was told there wasn't any money in those fields. I was taught that I wouldn't be able to live off of it. Even now at age 28 & having moved out only last year, I still find it hard to think for myself at times. Further, she (my grandma) would often criticize me.

"I can't see you doing that" is something I'd hear often. Whenever I wanted to try a new hobby or go for the job that I wanted as opposed for settling for something I hated. Another example, I started to gain weight due to my fibroids. I'd constantly hear, "You need to back away from the table; the only clothes you'll find in the Plus Size section are flowers". It shaped my negative thinking back then & today as well. Here's where I learned my third lesson: No matter what I do, say, wear, or feel... I'll never be good enough. This angers me to my core. It irritates me because it makes it difficult for me to change something in my life. The self-doubt voices telling me I shouldn't wear a certain outfit or that affirmations are pointless. This gave birth to my anxiety.

So there you have it; my anger origin story. Can you relate to my story? Let's ki-ki, besties.

*** Side Note: I've been binge-watching Naruto: Shippuden for the first time... THIS IS THE GREATEST ANIME EVER! ***