#sapphic au

[eemamminy-art]

a fleeting illusion, albeit a pleasant one 💜

[becoming-the-bridgertons]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒚 | 𝒊. 𝑰𝒇 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆, 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒆

pairings. violet ledger x ellie bridgerton

summary. violet asks ellie a big question

word count. 1.3K

warnings. none

note. written in RP style by @shmaptainwrites and @lifesizehysteria

Violet sat on the couch with a small plop, tapping her fingers against her legs as she did so. There was something she wanted to talk about, something she wanted to ask, but her voice had become stuck in her throat. It had been for weeks. 

She wondered if having it trapped there was what made her so fidgety, unable to keep her hands still, her partially dyed blonde hair a frizzy mess from how many times she’d run her fingers through it. She desperately needed to get the words out, but they just weren’t coming, and so she sat there twiddling her thumbs wishing she could telepathically speak to Ellie. Perhaps that would be easier than saying it out loud. 

Ellie was lounging on the couch, her nose stuck in a book and nestled into the corner with her feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table when Violet plopped down next to her. At first she kept on reading, until she noticed how long Violet went without saying something, which was very unlike her, chatterbox that she was. Peeking over the top of the book, she noticed the way her wife’s hands twisted in her lap and the stiffness in her body that was a sure sign of nervousness.

Closing her book, on alert but not yet worried because nervousness was nothing new for her love and did not always indicate a crisis, she pushed Violet’s knee with her foot to get her attention, offering her an easy, affectionate smile.

“Dottie, everything alright?” she asked, knowing if nothing else, the nickname would get her to smile. 

“Hmm,” Violet looked over and chewed on her lip, not quite registering the affectionate nickname. “Oh, I’m fine.” No, she wasn’t.

She almost cursed at herself for being unable to be honest, even when probed, however gently it was. She knew Ellie would be able to tell, she always was, no matter the circumstance. Whether Violet was biting back her anxiety and putting on a very convincing performance that would show otherwise, or even a shift in her demeanour during their routine before bed, Ellie would point it out and drag the information out of her piece by piece. 

“I mean. I am fine,” she finally said. “But I just had…I had something I wanted to ask you.”

When Violet didn’t even smile, Ellie sat up, leaning forward so she was close to her, her mouth turning down into a frown at the corners. Her head tilted to one side as she searched Violet’s face until she answered. 

“What is it?” she asked gently but with a firmness that hopefully conveyed her steadfastness to listen, support, and solve any trouble her love could possibly have. At the same time, she reached to place her hand over Violet’s, squeezing gently to pause their fidgeting. 

Violet chewed on her lip and looked down at her lap where Ellie’s hand was wrapped over hers. She marvelled at how it brought her such calm. She wondered to herself how it was possible to love someone as much as she loved Ellie; that was why she wanted to ask her this. Ultimately, it boiled down to that simple, fundamental thing that pulled them together even when the universe pushed them apart. 

“I…I want a baby,” she whispered. “I know we’ve talked about it here and there, but I…I think I’m ready for that. I just wasn’t sure if you were, too.”

Shock instantly fell over Ellie’s face because, despite years of trying to train it otherwise, her face had not once kept a secret. Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. 

“A baby?” she asked, immediately realizing how that sounded when she hadn’t meant it in any sort of judgmental way. She just hadn’t processed that her wife had gone from ‘just thinking about it in the future’ to wanting it right now. It was a lot to take in, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t open to the idea. 

Her face softened into curiosity, and she took both of Violet's hands into her own. “You’re sure you’re ready?” This time her voice matched her heart—inquisitive and genuine, inviting honesty. 

“El, I’ve been thinking about it for months,” she finally admitted. “I feel like it’s calling to me.”

Violet gingerly took Ellie’s hand and placed it on her stomach. 

“Could you imagine it?” Violet was almost beaming at the thought. “Our child, Ellie.”

But just as soon as her smile came it faded again at a thought that flashed through her mind. 

“You don’t think I’m too young, do you? Is that why you’re worried?” she asked, referring to Ellie’s initial reaction. 

Ellie sat with her hand on Violet’s stomach, pressing her palm lightly into it while her eyes went to Violet’s face. Her blue eyes were bright with optimism and excitement, her whole face lit up at the idea, and Ellie’s heart melted into a puddle. A smile burst across her face, and she brought her other hand up to cup Violet’s cheek.

“You probably are. We both probably are. But when has that ever stopped us?” she laughed. 

She rubbed her hand across Violet’s stomach, still beaming as she said resolutely, “If you’re ready, I’m ready.” 

Violet grasped Ellie’s face gently in her hands, pulling her into a tender kiss. Each kiss with Ellie felt like a hope and a dream that was almost in her reach, and this one, which she had been holding close to her heart for months, was finally clasped between her fingers, and she wasn’t letting go. 

“I am just as ready for this as I was when I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you,” Violet whispered against Ellie’s lips. “You are my everything, my light, my love. Call me greedy, but I want more of this. Of us.”

Somehow, despite already feeling overwhelmed by it, another wave of love wrapped around Ellie, making her feel as if she were riding high, sailing atop the highest crest over the widest ocean. Violet had always made her feel that way. As long as she had Violet’s love, she could do anything, conquer any obstacle, achieve any dream, because she already had what she wanted most in life. Anything else was just extra. 

She kissed her again, a little deeper, holding her close so that when it ended she was able to rest her forehead against hers.

“A little Violet Ledger,” she mused, her voice full of a daydreamy kind of enchantment. “I can’t wait to get to hold another little piece of you.”

Violet felt overcome with emotion, her thumbs tracing along Ellie’s cheekbones as she took everything in. They were going to start a family. Their family. She sniffled a little, fighting back happy tears before kissing Ellie again, not knowing a better way to respond to her comment. 

“Maybe we should start making some phone calls then?” she suggested, her smile almost crystal clear in her voice. 

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. The second Violet got an idea in her head, she was already scheming and organizing. Of course, this would be no different.

“I guess so. Nothing like jumping right in, huh?” She booped Violet’s scrunched nose, so endeared by this woman she loved before suggesting she start with a call to her OBGYN, figuring the person who delivered babies probably had the most knowledge on how to go about making one when you couldn’t just do it at home. 

Before Ellie could even breathe, Violet was up and out of her seat, making her way to the phone and looking through her black book to find the correct number before dialing it. She chewed on the inside of her cheek while still looking at Ellie with a wide smile. It truly felt like the beginning of everything.

[pollenallergie]

I feel like, deep down, Chrissy is a massive nerd, but only in secret and usually only about really niche stuff. For example, she could tell you all about ancient Mississippian burial practices, but Star Wars? Meh, that’s never really been her thing. Chrissy knows everything there is to possibly know about famous historical women like Julie d’Aubigny (read: famous historical sapphics), but she doesn’t know the difference between Marvel and DC superheroes. She can tell you exactly what dyes were rare and regarded as being “luxurious” and “extravagant” during the Qin dynasty. However, Chrissy hates playing video games because all the bright colors and flashing graphics make her dizzy. Honestly, the most cliché nerdy thing she’s into is LOTR. Chrissy’s a secret Tolkien fanatic (extra emphasis on secret), she spent her entire childhood dreaming about being an elven princess… and also marrying an elven princess…

[sugarbunbie]

Please have my Good Omens Human Lesbians AU fic

sure enough the lights go out

Summary:

Aziraphale disappears from Crowley's life after they have sex the night of their university graduation. They each move on with their respective lives, and meet again 20 years later when Crowley's quit her job as a lawyer and is now selling flowers in Soho. Will Crowley find out the truth about what happened 20 years ago? Or are some regrets meant to be carried forever?

Rated M, wc 10k

Expect: Angst with a Happy Ending, h/c, intense queer friendship to strangers to lovers

CW: archangels being assholes, smoking as a coping mechanism, heavy alcohol consumption, Crowley's poor self-esteem, dubious consent due to drug use, brief mention of suicidal ideation, fire, non-graphic extensive burns

[bye-bi-girl]

When you both are laying on the bed, ready to fall asleep and she turns to you to say something and a softness and adoration and overwhelming love takes over you so you spread your hands and bring her in a gentle hug, kiss her cheek and ask her to tell it now.

[hackedbyawriter]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn Characters: Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron Additional Tags: Sapphic Au, Showers, Scars, non-sexual nudity, okay maybe its a tiny bit sexual, Butch Poe Dameron, Butch (Finn Star Wars) Summary:

Tell me, when the party ends Will you still love who I am, I am?

FinnPoe Week Day 2: Sapphic AU

[leannlyre]

*downloads the full game* *turns voices off* *voices male characters in a way to portray them noncanonically as lesbians*

[bye-bi-girl]

Reminds me! I had written a oneshot. There's plant moms in there. If anyone wants to read.

Plant moms plant moms plant moms

The one prompt I managed to get done for caivi week xD

[bbybluemochi]

new OC🎸!

my friend @onzze and I are combining our mutual obsession with 80s classic rock bands with our love for lesbians, so we're creating a fictional band full of them!!!

[blackcur-rants]

Sylvia Jacqueline Carton dove her face into her bowl of noodles, greedily devouring every last inch of her meal with the intensity of a jackal going down on a piece of meat. Her face was absolutely getting messed up and dirty and would probably end up smelling stronger and more pungent than a figgy pudding at Christmas time, but Sylvia didn’t care. It tasted good and that was all that mattered.

And once the meal was finally finished, Sylvia groaned with satisfaction, for that was the most filling meal she had ever had in her entire life. Sylvia had not been poor growing up, in fact quite the opposite. Though being a poor orphan of mixed Irish and Chinese descent growing up in the middle of the rolling fields and tranquil village squares of rural Shropshire had had its difficulties for sure, Sylvia’s aunt Christina had always made sure she was fed and well-cared for as she occupied her strange life of living halfway being the scruffy, dirty village tomcat and the magnificent and noble honours student of the local school. Aunt Christina (the older twin sister of Sylvia’s father Peter Gerald Carton, a rather stout and peculiar but kind-hearted man who had raised Sylvia on his own for the most part after his Hong Kong-born wife Melissa Elaine Sima had died of bowel cancer when Sylvia was four years and three months old before dying himself in a freakish car accident when Sylvia was eight years and seven months old and leaving his sole child in his own sister’s care) had been the bartender at the local pub in their hometown of Upton Magna, and thus had been a master of cooking fabulous and wonderful feasts for her little niece even before she became the girl’s official guardian. As a result of growing up with all of this good food and drink in her life as a grieving and rather lonely but highly intelligent child, Sylvia had always turned to eating and drinking a nice meal or two whenever she was stressed out by something or other, which was honestly rather frequent in the profession where she worked.

“Wow” a friendly and well-meaning voice called out as Sylvia was finishing the last of her broth, “You really were super, super hungry in the aftermath of that case, weren’t you?”

Sylvia stopped for a while before accidentally spitting out all of her remaining broth all over poor Charles Jonathan Stryver’s face. Stryver was somewhat bemused at this turn of events and did nothing much other than just calmly and carefully pick up a towel and wipe the hot soup broth off of his face.

“Yeah, I was” Sylvia responded after not much time, “I don’t know. There was just…something about that woman that just…captured my imagination or something else in me in a way no one else ever has”.

“She does kind of look like you, to be quite honest” Stryver said at last as he finished wiping the last of the soup broth off of his face.

“Yes, I am aware of that” Sylvia said again, “but thank you for stating the obvious, Professor”.

It was true though. Catherine Elizabeth Darnay had gotten stuck inside of Sylvia Jacqueline Carton’s head and just refused to get out of there. There was just something about the way she laughed at some bad, cheesy joke or another, the way she had smiled when Sylvia had gotten her off the hook for whatever stupid, bullcrap charges had been hurled at her for her time as a Red Cross nurse serving in Iraq, as if caring for human life and well-being had made her somehow complicit in the atrocities of Saddam or Osama. There was not much that Sylvia knew about Catherine, only that she had been born in Algeria, the daughter of a French businessman and his Algerian wife, with both of her father and her maternal grandfather having some connection or another to the infamously awful Evremonde Industrial Manufacturing, one of the cruellest and most disgusting military industrial war crime-profiting criminal leagues in the whole entire world. Fortunately though, it seemed to Sylvia at least that Catherine was a good and kind and noble woman who had long since rejected the wicked ways of her vile family and had chosen to be good and kind and just to all of God’s children.

(It’s so funny how I’m for the most part an atheist and yet I still think of Cat Darnay as almost a woman of God Themselves. Must be Aunt Christina’s upbringing again or maybe iit was just being brought up in proximity to a church and having a vicar’s daughter for a first crush).

Of course, it was not to be. Catherine was already deeply, deeply in love with another person, a local nurse from Bloomsbury named Lucine Manette, who was said to be as beautiful and intelligent as they were also gentle and kind and loving. It was said in almost all of London’s finest queer circles that they were the hottest and most eligible panromantic bisexual in all of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. And yet they had never married at all, for they were most prominently invested in taking care of their father Alexandre, a journalist who had attempted to blow the whistle on American war crimes in the first Gulf War and had been imprisoned on Riker’s Island for eighteen years until Lucine had successfully smuggled him out of New York to London in 2011. Sylvia sweated a little and rubbed her left hand through the jet black buzzcut that was her recently cut hair at the thought of both Catherine and Lucine, whose beautiful performances of the feminine gender made Sylvia feel even more than usual like she was the butchest butch who ever butched. Of course, Sylvia was not the super-butch lesbian that either she or her compatriots sometimes imagined her as being. Of course, she had very much been the village tomboy when she was little, always more comfortable running around in tattered jeans and light white t-shirts with a freckled smile on her face as she sat by herself with a book under the old ash trees that made up the forests around her home village of Upton Magna than trying to be a pretty little girl laughing and giggling with the other village children. However, she had never held more “girly” things in all that much contempt. In fact, she had loved the brave and headstrong young women she saw in her childhood princess movies and classic novels even as most of them had worn dresses rather than pants and ended up with hot boys rather than with other beautiful girls. In fact, for most of her childhood, Sylvia had dreamed of moving to the city to find a beautiful, strong woman to take her up into her arms and spirit her away into a new life of wonder and love…only to come to London and find that all of the eligible and beautiful queer women had been taken and she herself was left all alone. And that, sadly, was when her heart had started to turn as cold and bitter as a winter snowstorm, and when she had begun to harden herself to the idea of love and companionship and had resigned herself to the fate of being alone and fairly miserable with only her mentor Professor Charles Jonathan Stryver and her books and Hakkasan food to keep her company through her darkest times.

However, no sooner than Sylvia Jacqueline Carton started on the depths of these musings when she saw none other than Catherine Darnay and Lucine Sophia Manette coming into the Hakkasan and sitting down together on a date. Sylvia was rather reluctant to be seen by them for fear of embarrassing herself in front of both these supremely lovely and most excellent individuals. So instead of even trying to sit in the same vague vicinity as both of these beloveds, Sylvia Jacqueline Carton bolted straight up from the table and ran to the bathroom to gather her thoughts as she stared into the mirror. Once there, Sylvia Carton plopped herself down onto the toilet and tried desperately not to scream loudly at the top of her lungs as she held her head tightly between her hands. Part of her just wanted to quiet down and head silently home through a way that nobody else could see until she could flop down upon her bed and let the tidal wave of emotions ride all over her until she could fall asleep at last…and meanwhile, another part of her just wanted to strip off all of her clothes then and there and scream naked into a mirror until she passed out at last and had to be carried home by Stryver…until she then remembered that the London autumns were, to put it very bluntly, not the warmest and most pleasant experiences in the world, and she decided that being able to get home calmly and quickly was a much, much better thing than being carried home in her birthday suit by her old professor. And so it was that, once the pounding in her ears had died down into a barely audible crawl and once her heart had ceased pounding and settled down into a quiet yet still constantly eternal vibration that kept the human body alive for as long as it could, the lawyer known as Sylvia Jacqueline Carton finally exited the bathrooms of this humble London Hakkasan and reentered into the world of normal conversation.

However, when Sylvia Carton reentered into said world of normal conversation, the conversation that was wholly surrounding her was anything but normal, to put it very, very bluntly. For there was on the restaurant TV screen at the moment a special presentation from the BBC about how national hero John Arthur Barsad had been caught trying to play hanky panky with Jeremiah Isaac Cruncher, a local bank teller for Tellson’s Bank. And one must know, dearest reader, that when your narrator refers to “hanky panky”, they are in fact referring to a massive blow job that Mister Cruncher administered to Mister Barsad and which Mister Barsad had decided to record on video and had accidentally posted to his Facebook account and which was now going viral across the nation.

(And possibly the world, if we’re being quite honest)

[momoiro-hime]

putting my ocs in every AU i want part. 34791

| Do NOT repost or use without permission.

[inkshine]

I indulged myself and wrote a Macbeth fanfiction where Lady Macbeth is in love with a witch.

[becoming-the-bridgertons]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒚 | 𝒗𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝑭𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒚 𝑴𝒄𝑭𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒐𝒏

pairings. violet ledger x ellie bridgerton

summary. violet and ellie deal with the exhaustion and worry that comes with being new parents

word count. 3.5K

warnings. signs of postpartum depression/anxiety

note. written in RP style by @lifesizehysteria and @shmaptainwrites

Ever since they had brought Anthony home, Violet and Ellie were both getting used to the schedule as new parents. Ellie’s mum and dad had come to stay with them for a while initially to ensure they could rest and recuperate a bit after the birth before they were left on their own. 

The first few nights without her in-laws, Violet immediately wanted to move Anthony into their room. At the moment, she hated having him in the nursery and felt much more at ease knowing they were in the same space while they slept. 

That evening, like all others, she woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of his cries, and like a zombie on autopilot, she got out from under the covers, walking over to where he slept, taking him out of his crib and sitting on the armchair they had moved into the room so that Violet could be comfortable while nursing him. 

She took out her arm from her sleeve and lifted her shirt over her shoulder so that she could try to get him to latch, but he seemed to be much more content crying. 

She double checked to make sure his diaper wasn’t full, but when she saw that wasn’t the issue she looked at her son curiously. Was he not hungry?

“Come on, Anthony,” she mumbled tiredly, trying to encourage him a bit more to feed and eventually he stopped crying and focused on the milk instead. 

Violet sighed, thankful that’s all that it was because she wasn’t sure she had the brain power to deduce what was upsetting him this far into the night.

Ellie woke with Anthony and Violet, squinting her bleary eyes in the room that was lit only with a small nightlight by the chair. Her head felt about a hundred pounds heavier than normal and her limbs seemed disconnected altogether. Still, she laid awake, listening to Anthony fuss, waiting to see if nursing settled him. 

She was just about to offer to take him when he began to quiet, and a mixture of relief and guilt fell over her. She hated that she couldn’t help with feeding, but Violet was set on breastfeeding exclusively, so she couldn’t be much help. She did what she could, including taking over anytime he was fussy at night but not hungry. It didn’t balance out perfectly but it helped level the playing field a little bit. 

“Does he need a change?” she asked in a hoarse whisper, fighting the sleep that was trying to drag her eyes closed. She was certain she had never been this tired in her whole life. 

Violet hummed and shook her head, tapping his back to burp him over her shoulder. When she was content with her work, she moved to place him back in the crib, but Anthony began to wail again, and she groaned. 

“Dearest, you are making things very difficult for Mummy right now,” she sighed, pulling him close to her chest again and bringing him towards the bed, climbing back under the covers.

She placed him on his back between herself and Ellie, her eyes already drooping. 

“Maybe he misses your parents. He’s been fussier since they’ve been gone,” she suggested. “Your mum was singing him that lullaby…” 

Her fingers traced along Anthony’s tiny chest and stomach, she looked at him tiredly but with much love in her eyes. 

“Could you sing to him?”

Ellie turned onto her side towards them, propping her head in one hand, her other coming to gently stroke his little cheek. 

“It’s time to sleep, my flower,” she said quietly. Her voice began softly, the Swahili lullaby she had sung so many times to him before he was born flowing into the room, mingling with his cries in a dissonant harmony. The song seemed to help at first, bringing him down to a fussy, hiccuping whimper but when her voice trailed off at the end, he started back up again. She sighed, the sound grating on her tired ears. 

“Okay, okay,” she said, lifting him from between them and turning onto her back. She put him flat on top of her so the front of his body was against hers, his head on her chest. She began to sing again, this time firmly patting his butt in rhythm with the beat of the song. Once again, his cries began to quiet until they stopped, only an occasional whimper interrupting her while his body slowly relaxed. 

“Is something wrong?” Violet yawned. “With him I mean. I’m worried it’s not just him being a fussy baby.”

She turned on her side and looked at Ellie, her eyes were closed, her hand still tapping Anthony to make sure he stayed calm. Violet was grateful to have her wife be so adamant in helping with the baby, especially during the night, but at this point they were both always exhausted and she truly believed there was something they could do to make it better. 

“Maybe he has stomach issues? O-Or colic?” 

“I don’t think it’s his stomach. I think his fussiness would always come after nursing if that was it.” Ellie kissed the top of his head, her hand still patting away, afraid to stop for fear he might wake back up.

Her mind felt sluggish, and trying to think coherently was difficult. She knew Violet was nervous, and she didn’t want to discredit her maternal instincts, even if she wasn’t ready to get really worried yet. When it came to Anthony, she figured safe was always better than sorry. 

“Why don’t we call his doctor in the morning and see if we can bring him in, just to ease our minds.”

Violet nodded her head and moved her hand to gently brush away some dark hair from Anthony’s forehead. She let her thumb graze back and forth on his cheek, smiling slightly at the way his cheek was squished against Ellie’s chest, his mouth slightly open and drooling onto her shirt. 

“Oh my sweet boy,” she sighed. “I don’t think you’re ever going to stop worrying your mummy.”

Ellie let out a quiet little snort. As if Violet ever quit worrying. But she adored her and her anxious energy, and now that it was directed towards their child, she found it even more endearing. 

Anthony seemed to be fully conked out, without so much as a whimper in the last few minutes. Ellie eased up on the butt pats until she was able to stop altogether, holding her breath and waiting for him to start back up again.

She turned her head to look at Violet, her pale skin glowing in the dim light. “I think I’m trapped,” she said, trying not to laugh.

“Best kind of trap, hmm? A baby trap?” She wiggled her eyebrows at the teasing wordplay. 

Violet moved her hand to cradle Ellie’s face, her fingers pressed lightly against her scalp on the side of her head, scratching there to get her wife to relax. 

“Close your eyes, darling. I’ll look after you both.”

Ellie smiled, her eyes already half closed, sleep calling to her like a siren song floating on the wind across the ocean.

“Okay, but don’t let him stay here too long.” There was the slightest hint of worry threaded into her voice. She was pretty good at not getting too stressed out over all the possible things that could go wrong with him, but cosleeping was definitely one that caused her some trepidation. She wasn’t even sure she would be able to sleep that deeply with him on her, but she was bordering on a level of exhaustion that was new to her, so she wasn’t as confident as she normally would have been.

Violet wished she could have kept her promise, but both her and Ellie’s exhaustion was getting to the point where they both passed out without noticing, Anthony still fast asleep on top of Ellie. 

When the morning came around, Anthony began to wriggle and his small wails filled both their ears, shocking them out of their sleep. 

“Huh,” Violet blinked and pushed herself up quickly. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”

She turned her head and looked at the alarm clock, eyes widening when she saw the time. 

“Christ, it’s morning?!”

Anthony’s cries snapped Ellie out of sleep and into a sheer panic. It took her a second to come to and realize everything was okay, that he was still on her chest, and she had somehow managed to go several hours without moving.

A hazy periwinkle light seeped in through the windows, telling Ellie it was morning, though still early. 

“Vi, you were supposed to put him back,” she said, an uncharacteristic sharpness to her tone. Even though everything was fine, he was fine, all of the what ifs bombarded her, and she couldn’t see past them to the reality that he was safe, and she hadn’t done anything wrong by sleeping with him on her. 

Violet blinked a few more times, her face falling as she looked over at her wife, an uneasy feeling bubbling up in her chest. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Her voice came out small and weak. “I-I didn’t…”

She chewed on her bottom lip to keep it from wavering quickly, getting up and taking Anthony off of Ellie. She stood up trying to hush the baby before walking out to the bedroom and towards the nursery fast enough to hide her tears. 

She had just been so tired, it wasn’t for lack of trying, she remembered jolting herself awake a few times, trying to fight off the sleep and give Ellie and Anthony just a little more time asleep, but she hadn’t been able to do it, her exhaustion completely overcoming her. 

As Violet fled from the room, Ellie growled in frustration, rubbing the heels of her hands hard against her itchy, tired eyes. She hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, the reaction had just popped out before she could stop it. It wasn’t Violet’s fault, she knew that. She was just so tired and had been flooded with panic and disoriented from being startled awake. 

She sat up, her feet hanging off the edge of the bed while her head hung forward and her tangled mess of curls that had been all but abandoned since they brought Anthony home fell down around her face. Taking a few deep breaths and trying to encourage her eyes to remain open, she exhaled loudly before pushing herself up and following her wife. 

She found them in the nursery, Violet’s back to the door.

“Hey,” she said gently as she leaned against the doorframe. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean to leave him with me, and I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Violet didn’t turn around, still holding Anthony tight to her chest, hushing him gently. Her nose was pressed against his head, inhaling that unique scent he seemed to have that calmed and steadied her heart. 

She had a few tears welling in her eyes, and she let them fall onto the ground, still rocking and hushing him. 

She was just so tired, everything ached, her bones, her mind, her heart. 

“Vi?” Ellie tried again, but she still didn’t turn around. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her pajama pants, she crossed the room gingerly, feeling a bit like a dog with its tail tucked. When she reached her wife, she put a hand on her shoulder, lightly letting her thumb stroke over the rounded top of it by the seam of her shirt. 

“Dottie?” she whispered. “I’m really sorry.”

She chewed harder on her lip and shook her head. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered shakily. “I didn’t mean to leave him on top of you.”

She held Anthony a little tighter. She knew why Ellie had snapped and it had filled her with guilt; she was right, something could have happened to him and it would have been all her fault. 

“I’m sorry Anthony, I’m so sorry.”

Ellie felt her heart crack, splintering as it shattered. She stepped around to the front of Violet and pulled her in against her, careful not to squish Anthony as she did so. 

“It’s okay, love, it’s okay,” she murmured, rubbing circles into Violet’s back and placing a kiss in her hair. “He’s okay.” She held her like that for another minute before speaking again. “We are both exhausted and should be more careful but nothing. happened.” Her emphasis on the last two words was firm, a reminder for both of them that neither panic, fear, nor shame would help anyone do any better in the future. 

Violet nodded her head, she knew what Ellie was saying was right, but getting her heart to believe her was something else entirely. She let her shoulder shake as her wife held her, refusing to let go of her baby. 

He was still so small and fragile, and she couldn’t imagine what she would do with herself if something happened to him. 

“He’s okay,” she repeated. “He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay.”

Ellie held Violet close, soothing her with little murmurs and her hand rubbing up and down along her shoulder blade. Clearly, she was struggling, and Ellie had a feeling there was something else going on other than just this one mistake and the relentless exhaustion. 

After another minute, she lifted Violet’s face with her thumb and finger on her chin. 

“Love, is this really just about last night, or is something else going on?” she asked as gently as possible, her eyes full of love and sincere curiosity. 

Violet blinked a few times, her heart feeling like it was racing so fast in her chest, and she couldn’t control it. Ellie could have been right, maybe there was something else, but Violet was too tired to pinpoint it if there was. 

She shook her head, for now it was just about the previous evening, but Anthony was in her arms and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to allow that to change for the rest of the day. 

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered. “I just need a-a few more minutes.”

“Okay.” Ellie kissed the top of her head, then Anthony’s as well, lingering there for a moment in that warm new baby smell. She couldn’t get enough of it. 

After a moment, she looked at Violet and noticed how she clung to him, not just holding him but enveloping him so fully it was like she was trying to make herself a barrier around him, keeping everything else out. Part of her wanted to offer to take him, to get her to relax a bit, but she has a feeling it would be a pointless endeavor. Instead, she let go of them, taking a small step back. 

“Why don’t I go make us some breakfast, hmm?”

Violet nodded her head, thinking that would be a good idea, and if she was being honest, she wanted a few moments alone. She watched Ellie leave the room before sitting down on the rocking chair, thinking the movement might help to soothe Anthony and herself. 

His small lips moved in a smacking manner and he began to whine and she sensed he was hungry, it was about time for his morning feeding anyways. 

Violet began to nurse him and relaxed a bit as soon as she saw him quiet down. 

Ellie went to the kitchen and started the kettle. If anything would help center Violet a bit, it was a cup of tea. She was almost alarmingly British that way. 

She went about making breakfast. Nothing fancy, just eggs and toast, but it was easy and filling which was what she needed when she felt like she was perpetually running on empty. 

While their tea steeped, she filled them both plates and set the table, including some cut fruit. When it was ready, she put their mugs of tea at their places, then wandered back to the nursery. 

Standing in the doorway again, she gave a quiet knock. “Breakfast is ready.”

Violet blinked a few times and looked up from where her eyes were fixed on the baby in her arms. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before looking up at Ellie and saying, “I’ll be down in a bit. Start without me.” 

Her eyes locked back on Anthony who had since been fed and burped. She was grateful for how content he was in her arms, simply gurgling and making all sorts of wonderfully happy noises. She smiled and let her finger tap at his chin, tracing it while looking at his brown eyes. 

She knew that was a trait he had inherited from the donor they had used, but Violet liked to think he got them so that Ellie could see herself in him. She wondered silently if Ellie saw it that way too.

“Don’t be too long. Your tea will get cold,” she said, then hesitated at the door, watching Violet for another minute. When she left, she did so reluctantly. Violet really didn’t seem like herself and she would be lying if she said part of her wasn’t a little concerned. They both had lots of adjusting to do, and she wanted to allow the space for her wife to do that without hovering over her, worrying over every little change in demeanor. But she didn’t want to miss any warning signs of something serious going on, either. 

Back downstairs, she sat at the kitchen table and took a drink of her tea. The warmth of it felt soothing, or maybe it was just the habit of it, but either way it was calming her nerves so she leaned back in her chair, hands wrapped around the mug, taking sips as she let herself sink into her thoughts, trying to plan the day, the coming week, trying to make sure as much was off of Violet’s plate as possible, including a call to the pediatrician to discuss Anthony’s fussiness, though she noted he seemed much more content today. For that she was grateful. 

A little while later, as promised, Violet came downstairs with Anthony still in her arms. She maneuvered herself in a way that she could eat one handed and when she was finally comfortable she looked at the food and tea set out before her. 

“Thank you for this,” she said, looking at Ellie briefly before grabbing the mug of tea and taking a careful sip. 

The food looked quite tasty, especially because Violet hadn’t realized how hungry she actually was, and she was suddenly very excited to eat.

Ellie was about half way done with her food when Violet came down. 

“Of course,” she said, smiling at her with warmth and love. She was going to offer to warm it up but Violet was already eating with what looked like quite a ravenous appetite, so she didn’t bother. “Why don’t you let me hold him while you eat?” she offered, wondering if Violet had even set him down since picking him up off of her chest earlier that morning. 

“I’m okay with him like this,” she nodded, bouncing him slightly in her arms while multitasking. 

She continued to eat, finishing much faster than she had expected and then focusing on her tea. 

“We should call the pediatrician,” she recalled after a sip of her drink. “Book an appointment.”

She knew Anthony was doing better today but it would ease her mind if the doctor confirmed nothing was wrong and causing his fussiness. 

“Yep. It’s already on my list for today. I’ll call them as soon as they open.”

After she finished her food, Ellie took her plate to the sink and cleaned it, then put it in the draining rack before turning back to Violet, noticing she was already almost done with her plate. 

“Do you want anything else?” she asked, leaning against the counter, drying her hands on a tea towel. 

“No, I’m okay,” she shook her head, feeling full for now, but conscious that she would probably grab a snack and another cup of tea before lunch. 

She brought her dishes to the sink and thanked Ellie again before making her way back towards the nursery, still unable or unwilling to put Anthony down. 

She had tried to earlier, but the attempt immediately filled her with anxiety, especially when he began to fuss again when she did so. It was just easier to hold him, and it wasn’t like she had to focus on other things, her job was to be his mother, and she was going to try and do it perfectly. 

Ellie watched Violet leave the room with Anthony still tucked in her arm, and she felt a sinking feeling in her gut that could only be described as trepidation. To anyone else, Violet probably seemed fine, just a tired new mom, maybe a little nervous, who was too smitten to put her new baby down. But Ellie could sense something else going on. She could feel it, and like a whisper heard in the black of night when you thought you were alone, it filled her with a certain sense of dread.

[pollenallergie]

i take back everything i said, this song is so best friend!closeted!chrissy cunningham coded.

like you’re jealous of her because “oh everyone loves her. everyone adores her. she’s perfect” but deep down it’s not actually jealousy… you’re just insanely in love with her but also insanely confused about that and like hardcore repressing it (and possibly even resenting both her and yourself for it) because you just can’t have these feelings.

it’s the 80’s… and you’re in a small rural midwestern town… you’re already enough of an outcast as it is… you can’t feel like this, not about any girl, not here. you’d be relegated to being a social pariah if anyone found out. however, you especially can’t feel this way about her. chrissy would never forgive you if she found out. she’d hate you. she’d think you’re a creep. the idea of your best friend hating you is somehow infinitely worse than the idea of being a social pariah.

… but chrissy could never hate you. she’s told you that a million times, and yet you never seem to really believe her. but it’s true, she could never hate you. that’s why she still sneaks in through your window every thursday night for your secret movie nights. that’s why she still goes to great lengths to hang out with you, even though she’s not really supposed to.

according to her mother, people like chrissy aren’t supposed to fraternize with people like you; frumpy people, homely people, the kind of people that’ll never make it out of this place, the kind of people who can’t afford to. her fellow cheerleaders feel the exact same way. they think you’re weird and off-putting, they can’t imagine why chrissy would’ve ever decided to befriend you in the first place. none of chrissy’s friends like you, they all pick on you, but not chrissy. no, she would never. and she’s always quick to divert their attention away from you before it gets too bad, and quick to apologize (genuinely apologize) for their behavior the next time she sees you… the next time she finds herself sneaking around behind her parents’ backs, behind her friends’ backs, behind her boyfriend’s back, just to spend time with the person she’s had a crush on since the second grade.

some people say that you never forget your first crush… but, in chrissy’s experience, you never get over your first crush. no, she hasn’t gotten over you. frankly, chrissy doesn’t think she ever will. instead she lies to all her friends and family just to spend time with her first crush. and she finds herself getting so incredibly angry on your behalf whenever someone mistreats you, but she also finds herself completely unable to do anything to help you, to make the torment stop, because she’s a coward and she’s scared, scared of what people will think, scared of what her picture perfect family and her picture perfect friends and her picture perfect boyfriend will think, and yet… chrissy often catches herself daydreaming about what it’d be like to hold your hand in public, in front of everyone, to be yours and for you to be hers…

[thismaybekleo]

Steven's cool gay aunts fr

[bye-bi-girl]

More than the "childhood/best friends to lovers" trope, I like it when two people start dating and are always accompanied by one of their friends. The friend of individual A starts falling for individual B. But they are always just happy to be there. But then A and B eventually have a fallout or A is just not that good to B. So the friend steps up and treats B a lot better. And they start dating. So much pining, so much hurt, so much yearning. But also, SO MUCH comfort, so much love, so much affection and so much soft sex after they both get together.

This is also very much a friends to lover trope for me but elevated😤