#stephanniesissues

[thisisartbylexie]

Lexie’s Follower Celebration: @stephanniesissues requested dark!Reylo and like I needed a reason for another au...

[amillionmillionvoices]

27 "Tell me Again" 11xRiver, please 💕

(featuring sex pollen but with no sex)

“Tell me again,” the Doctor says, “Start from the beginning.”River huffs, agitation growing as she tugs a hand through her hair, her nerves alight. “For the third and final time,” she says, trying not to grit her teeth, “I was excavating a tomb on Haras. I found an idol. I touched the idol. The soil was laced with poison and now I need you to take me to the Sisters for an antidote.”It’s the truth, sort of, or partially—she’s well rehearsed in leaving out vital details, and this is no different. She’d done her due diligence, asked him immediately where they were—and then immediately regretted it. He doesn’t even know who she is yet, let alone that they’re married, and when she’d sent a message for “a little help” this isn’t what she’d had in mind: the Doctor, scanning her with his sonic, trying to determine exactly why she’s burning up, why she’s weak and leaning heavily on the TARDIS console.“There’s no poison in your system,” he says, staring intently at the TARDIS’ scanners. “But your vitals are all over the place. And the TARDIS keeps—” He whacks the scanner with his palm, and River resists the urge to snap at him. The TARDIS is doing what she needs to, to keep their timelines in tact; if he finds out now she has two hearts, that she isn’t quite human... River doesn’t want to think about it.She doesn’t want to think about anything right now.“Doctor,” she manages, “I think I know when I’ve been drugged.”“You said poisoned.”“Semantics.”She straightens, and tries to move around the console to input the coordinates herself, but her thighs rub together and it hurts, in such a good way, that she whimpers.The Doctor reaches for her, and it takes every ounce of her willpower to pull away, a barely growled, “don’t touch me” that sends him reeling back.“River—”“This is why I wanted an older you,” she mutters, trying to keep her hands from reaching for him. It’s always a struggle when he’s young, not to touch him—little brushes of her hands over his arms or back, brief kisses to his cheeks or lips, even just to press herself into his side when they stand close. But she can’t do any of that, especially not now, not with the drug in her veins and her vision starting to cloud.“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks indignantly.River huffs. “Nothing, sweetie, just—”“You’re in pain.”She almost laughs. “Just—get me to hospital.”He nods, still staring at her for a long moment before he moves, careening around the console, and he leaves the breaks on and the TARDIS groans and River stumbles and she grits her teeth to keep from snapping at him.They land with a jolt, and River means to push herself toward the door, but when she moves, a wave of arousal so strong passes down her spine that she has to stop, half bent at the waist and her eyes squeezed shut and then his hands are on her, so soft and gentle, helping her up and she can’t help but lean into his touch with a whimper, her hand curling into his tweed jacket before she can stop herself.“Doctor—”“I’ve got you,” he says, and his voice is low and warm and does things to her they shouldn’t, not when he’s so young. His hand rubs over her back but it isn’t soothing; her skin feels like it’s on fire, and she bites down hard on her lip to keep a moan inside.It’s every ounce of strength she has to pull away from him, to slip out of the TARDIS and into the bright of the waiting room. She’s got one hand around her stomach and the other on the wall and it’s only a few seconds before a nurse appears at her side.River knows she’s asking her questions, but she can’t quite answer. She’s starting to sweat and her hearts are pounding and the Doctor is standing so close she can smell him, sweat and pheromones and time. She wants him, but the nurse has a firm grip on her arm and she just keeps repeating to herself, too young too young too young.“River,” his voice cuts through the fog, “River where did you say you were digging? What tomb?”“I didn’t,” she says. “I’m fine now. You should go.”He looks affronted, and she almost smiles. “I’m not leaving you here.”“I don’t need you to—”“I don’t care. I’m staying until you’re better.”There’s an edge to his voice she’s heard before, a protective note she never thought she’d hear again, and it softens something inside her, against her better judgement.“Fine,” she grits out, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”His response, “Warn me about what?” gets muted as the nurse guides her to a room and begins questioning her, and she can’t lie, not anymore, not without getting the wrong medication so she steels herself and says,“I just need a dose of takisol.”The nurse barely bats an eyelash. “I’ll be the one to determine that,” she says, reaching for a heart monitoring device.River shakes her head. “I’ve been here before, you have my file. Just—”Another wave of arousal steals over her skin, and she grips the nurse’s wrist a bit too tightly.“Takisol. Now.”“River, you need to let the nurse do her job and—”She cracks, eyes squeezed shut as she says, “Haras is known for their sacred tombs dedicated to the Valya, the goddess of fertility, marriage, and love.” She looks meaningfully at the nurse. “Their idols are often doused before they’re entombed.”“Doused with what?” the Doctor says, at the same time the nurse says,“Ah. And how long ago—”“35 minutes.”It’s not quite do or die, but without a release—or an antidote—the drug causes debilitating pain, blindness, and, in some instances, excessive vomitting, all things River would very much prefer to avoid. The nurse checks a few things on her device, then pulls gently away and pats River’s arm. “I’ll get you that takisol.”River nods gratefully, trying not to shift too much on the bed as the nurse quickly departs.The room is silent, only the faint hum of commotion beyond the door, and River wants to keep her eyes shut, wants to pretend she’s alone; but she can feel his presence, feel him in the room, and can’t quite stop herself from looking up.He isn’t looking at her, his cheeks flushed red and his hands fiddling with a bit of machinery as he sways on his feet, and she almost laughs.“Figured it out, did you?”He barely glances at her. “Well, yes. I mean. I’m assuming... I thought you were— but you’re not—““Don’t hurt yourself,” she says, gritting her teeth, thankful when the nurse returns. Two pills and a shot in the arm later, the nurse tells her to rest and she’ll be back in an hour. “It should wear out of your system in less than 90 minutes, and we’ll get you your second dose then.”River nods, and caves to the feeling of the soft bed and puts her feet up, angling the bed so she can sit straight. The Doctor is still examining the room with far too much inquisitiveness, and she tries to ignore the sting of it—that he won’t look at her. That he won’t speak to her. That perhaps the thought of being with her, that way, is too much, is so repugnant to him he can’t bare to lay eyes on her.It’s a far cry from the last time she saw him, older and calmer and worshiping her with his hands on her skin and his lips everywhere and she takes a deep breath, pushing those thoughts as far away as they’ll go.Instead, she folds her hands in her lap and tries not to fidget.“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she says, and he jumps a bit, turning slightly toward her. “I’ve got my vortex manipulator. I’ll be out of here in no time.”He doesn’t quite look at her. “If that’s what you want.”She can’t tell if he’s offering to stay or begging for an excuse to leave.“I’m more concerned with what you want at the moment,” she says plainly, and he looks at her, finally, cheeks still slightly pink and eyes wide, but to her surprise, his expression is soft, careful.“You’re alright?”She forces a smile. “I’m fine, Doctor. Just a bit...uncomfortable.”He flushes again, but moves slightly closer to the bed, rather than away.“I thought you were hurt,” he says after a moment. “When you called me, I thought—”“I didn’t mean to worry you.”“I wasn’t worried,” he says, and her hearts pinch.“Well, no, of course—”“I was frightened. I thought something happened to you.”She softens, and resists the urge to reach for him.“Technically speaking, something did,” she teases gently. “But I’m alright.”He nods, still inching closer, fingers tangling together.“You said you wanted an older me. Why?”River sighs. Of course he would ask, even when the answer is so obvious. “Spoilers.”He shakes his head. “I don’t think it is. If all you’d wanted was the medication, you could have brought yourself here.”“TARDIS is easier.”“Also later.” He looks a bit chagrined. “My fault.”“Always is,” she says, smirking, but he isn’t deterred, finally close enough that he sits down, perched on the edge of the chair near the bed, like he might take flight at any moment.“You didn’t want to come here. You wanted an older me.” He pauses, licks his lips, and River wishes the damn meds would work faster. “Is that because we...” He trails off, glancing up at her through his fringe, almost nervous.River swallows tightly. “That’s up to you.”He frowns, and River fights the sudden, inexplicable urge to cry.“Time can be rewritten,” she says, and hopes her voice doesn’t waver too much. She can’t bear to think about it - if he did decide differently. If he looked at her and felt nothing, continued to feel nothing. If he never married her, never touched her, never cared for her the way her Doctor does. She thinks of all the stories they’ve had, all the nights and days that would be rewritten, retold; what her life would or will be like, without him so close. What it would or will be like to love him from afar and he’s promised her it won’t happen; promised her time and again that he chose her, and always will. But he’s looking at her now with confusion, without a shred of desire, and she can’t see the path: can’t understand how he gets there, to where she is. Can’t imagine why or how he ever falls in love with her.And then there’s something on her hand, soft and warm and she opens her eyes and he’s leaning forward, his hand covering hers.“River.”She inhaled sharply. “Doctor, don’t—”“You’d let me change it? Your history, your past?”She blinks, and nods. “If it’s not what you wanted? Of course I would.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it’s all she can manage. Her skin is still tingling, especially where he’s touching her, and her mind is reeling and her hearts won’t stop pounding as he stares at her, and stares, and stares, and then, slowly, smiles, and squeezes her hand tightly.“Have I ever told you that you’re quite amazing, River Song?”She exhales shakily, does her best to smile. “A few times.”His thumb brushes back and forth over her skin, but it feels nice now, soothing.“Remind me to tell you more often.”It isn’t a promise, isn’t a guarantee, but there’s something in his eyes, something warm and welcome, something that looks a little bit like longing. And she can wait for the rest.

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

1, 10, 12 and 19!

1. If you’re an author, how many WIPs do you currently have? (Be honest!)

yikes. umm. upwards of like. twenty. i always start with what i think will be the first few opening paragraphs of the fic and now i’ve probably got so much more than i can handle. so yeah, i’d say about twenty or thirty plus. 

10. Mutual pining or enemies to friends to lovers?

omg mutual pining for sure!!! i do love enemies to friends to lovers as well but theres just something about two idiots pining for each other from afar that just sticks to my heart.

12. Friends with benefits or secret dating?

Friends with benefits to lovers lmaoooo i just love that casual sex angst and gradually developing feelings for each other without the other knowing and just realising what the other person means to them at a random moment. it’s sooo goood! tho as a mattex shipper secret dating is a great one too

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

I know this isnt exactly a character headcanon as much as a shipping headcanon but the one i really really believe that’s quite popular is that the doctor and river frequently go for honeymoons throughout time and space, and by the time they’re on darillium it’s like their 500th honeymoon lmaoo

[the-sapphiresky]

Can I still make a prompt?? I love your fics, but I am not a creative person so it took me a while, sorry. Can you please make one where Sherlock talks to kid who has a crush on Molly and he gets jealous? Thank you 💙

Yes, yes I can. :) Thanks, my dear! And I hope you enjoy this little single-parent au! 💙

He was just finishing the drying when the doorbell rang. Before he could move make a move, the door above was thrown open and a pair of little feet thundered downstairs.

“I’ll get it!” Scott bellowed. 

Shaking his head at his son’s antics, Sherlock put the last plate away and tossed the drying cloth into the bathroom hamper. He could hear Scott chattering on and on back up the stairs. Commanding the butterflies in his stomach to be still, Sherlock quickly checked his appearance in the mirror, twisting the curls that hung over his forehead and winking at himself.

Perfect.

“Good evening, Molly,” he greeted their guest magnanimously as he joined them in the sitting room, congratulating himself for keeping his voice even.

“Hello,” Molly replied and gave him a brief, sweet smile before returning her full attention to his son. His son who refused to let go of her hand and was giving her a tour of their flat. 

Pursing his lips, Sherlock watched impatiently.

It was ridiculous to be jealous of a seven-year-old child. Especially considering said child was his own son. But the boy had inherited both his father’s looks and his late mother’s charm. It was no wonder most were entranced by Scott, Molly included; whereas once Sherlock opened his mouth, all illusion of charm was lost.

“All right, Scott,” Sherlock interrupted just as his son was about to point out the bullet holes in the wall. “Run upstairs and get your bag. We’re going to be late.”

Scott pouted, a perfect mimicry of Sherlock, and leaned against Molly’s leg, refusing to let go. “Do I hafta?”

“I thought you wanted to sleep over at Rosie’s?” Molly knelt down at his level. 

Toeing the floor, Scott looked up at her through his lashes. A ploy Sherlock could see through in a heartbeat. “Yeah. But I’d rather go with you.“

Molly was folding, looking up at Sherlock, her brown eyes nearly breaking his resolve. But he shook his head. “You will have fun with Uncle John and Rosie. Now, upstairs, young man.” 

Tears filled Scott’s eyes, a full-blown tantrum brewing behind that sweet face. A sharp reprimand was on Sherlock’s tongue, but Molly quickly stepped in. Grasping Scott’s hands, she looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “How about we plan a day out next week? Just you and me, yeah? We’ll get lunch and maybe visit the museum or park. How does that sound?”

Immediately the storm clouds cleared and Scott bounced up and down excitedly. “Yeah!”

“I’ll talk it over with your dad while you go get your overnight bag. Off you pop.” She laughed as she was nearly bowled over by an exuberant Scott who raced upstairs. 

Sherlock breathed out in relief. 

Finally. Alone.

He wasted no time in crossing the room and pulling her to her feet, his hand cradling the back of her head as he dipped down to greet her properly with a kiss. 

“My goodness,” she breathed when he finally pulled away. “What brought that on?”

Sherlock just smiled and said, “I missed you.”

If he were a romantic, he would say that she melted against him, her eyes soft and a light blush on her cheeks.

"Do you mind my taking Scott for a day out?” She worried her bottom lip. 

“You could take him to Timbukto, for all I care. As long as I get you for this weekend.” He didn’t care that he sounded like a pouting child at Christmas whose older brother was stealing his toy.

“Incorrigible,” Molly teased and lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him silly once more, only ending their embrace when a disgusted Yuck! came from the door.

Scott was watching them with a scowl on his face, arms crossed, bag at his side.

“Let me freshen up and then we can head over to the Watson’s,” Molly smiled at her boys and left, leaving father and son to glare and size each other up. 

As the one with the remnants of cherry chapstick on his lips, Sherlock declared himself the winner of this round.

That is until Molly came back and held her hand out…to Scott. The two of them made their way downstairs. Grumbling, Sherlock picked up Scott’s bag and followed. 

And if he stuck his tongue out when Scott looked back over his shoulder at him, grinning triumphantly, well…no one else saw.

[toyboy-molloy]

Yay Babies!!! if you feel inspired I liked "Don't dress him/her in that!" Thanks x

“For God’s sake, don’t dress him in that!”

“Uh-oh,” Molly bit her lip playfully, cooing at thecurly-haired baby in front of her as she fixed a miniature deerstalker to hishead, “caught in the act, Hamish.”

Hamish spluttered out a laugh, which only increased as hegazed upon his unimpressed father. Sherlock folded his arms, watching – with poorlyconcealed annoyance - as Molly brought out a small Belstaff and a plasticmagnifying glass.

“It’s humiliating…” the consulting detective said as hewatched his son shove the magnifying glass into his mouth. Molly pouted,pulling her baby into her lap.

“Aww, don’t you think he looks adorable?”

Damn her.

“Well, I- that’s not the point, Dr. Holmes!”

Molly grinned triumphantly, pressing a sloppy kiss toHamish’s cheek; Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to be too upset. He wasadorable, she was adorable. An hourlater, Molly kissed her boys goodbye and left reluctantly for work.

“Right, Hamish…” Sherlock scooped his son into his armsand brought him downstairs, strapping him into his pushchair, “we’re going fora walk with John and Rosie,” Hamish blinked, his mouth still firmly attached tohis new favourite toy. Sherlock shrugged on his own coat and looked down at themini version of himself. Rolling his eyes, he swiped the deerstalker from his head,“you don’t need this, surely?”

The second Hamish’s upper lip began to wobble, Sherlockknew he’d made a mistake. He met up with John and Rosie at the park half anhour later, exhausted and unkempt, Hamish still sobbing softly; the ice cream clutchedin his tiny fist had healed most of the damage.

“What took you so long?” John asked, taking in his friend’sunruly appearance. Hamish proudly waved his prize, gurgling happily, thedeerstalker back in it’s rightful place.

“Don’task…” Sherlock replied, plonking himself down beside John heavily and releasinga deep breath, “mistakes were made.”

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴀʙʏ sᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ!

[tbbt-faves]

OMG could you please make one with Sheldon telling that he is glad he and Amy are better superior than the others from that last episode? 😍. That scene gave me many Shamy feels.

Homo Novus couple for the win!

It’s up, thanks for the request!

[sherlolly-searches]

I have one I read a loooong time ago, I believe it was a one shot, it was called John's Girl I think, but I can't find it! I think Sherlock and John are roommates in college. But Sherlock is in love with Molly and he thinks she is John's girlfriend so he keeps his distance and at the end he realises she wasn't John's girlfriend after all.

Anyone know it?

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

The Drabble Challenge even 128 or 130, you can also do both if you feel like it 💞

128. “Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.”

130. “You fell asleep in the tub?!”

ooh okie dokie! I was gonna try to use both in one drabble but I can’t figure out how lol so two for you Glen Coco, you go Glen Coco! (lol that was a mean girls reference in case people don’t know) I hope you love them! :)

Prompt 128:

“Do you even hear yourself, Sherlock!?” Molly asked. He puzzled over it a moment until realization hit him.

“A bit not good?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” Molly scoffed, her arms crossed. She was refusing to look at him and Sherlock shivered from the cold front Molly was putting up. 

“Molly,” he half whispered, walking up and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting,” Molly whined, shrugging him off. Her eyes pierced his in anger.

“But I don’t want to fight,” Sherlock replied, his voice breaking. Molly’s entire face softened. She admitted to herself that they were both being a bit unreasonable. His gaze was cast downward, unsure of what to do until a pair of small arms enveloped him.

“I’m sorry,” Molly muttered.

“I’m sorry too,” Sherlock apologized, pressing kisses in her hair.

“I don’t want to fight either,” Molly told him.

“Forgive me?” Sherlock asked.

“Always,” Molly smiled.

Prompt 130: (I admit I got a little carried away after the initial line was spoken xD)

Molly Hooper arrived home from a long day at work. She stalked off to her bedroom to gather clean pajamas for after her shower. Walking into her bathroom, she stopped short at the sight before her.

“You fell asleep in the tub!?” she exclaimed with amusement. Sherlock Holmes was covered in bubbles, his head leaning back with his eyes closed. He opened them quickly, seeing his girlfriend staring down at him.

“I, uh, must have dozed off,” Sherlock admitted sheepishly.

“Ya think?” Molly laughed. “Look, just get yourself dried up and dressed so I can take my shower.” She left her pajamas in the bathroom and stepped outside to let him change. Sherlock dried himself off with the towel she kept there for him. He exited the bathroom once he was dressed.

“All yours,” Sherlock gestured, finding her in the sitting room.

About fifteen minutes later, Molly was freshly showered. She stepped into her bedroom where Sherlock was thinking with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. He threw an automatic glance at her and then locked his eyes onto her. once more. Molly was dressed in a yellow nightie with white polka dots and white lace that formed the edge of the sweetheart neckline. He was out of bed and in front of her in seconds, snogging her senselessly.

“Did you want to stay the night?” Molly asked breathlessly as his lips moved to her neck.

“Mm, how could I not?” he murmured against her skin. Molly was satisfied with the reaction he had toward her in her new nightie. 

Drabble Asks