#in which emma posts OC

[heyitslapis]

Here's a potentially fun, hypothetical way to describe your OC's personality/moral alignment; Does your OC wear a mask when they're in public? When/where? Why/why not? What do they feel/think about it?

[wildrangers]

Hello i see you're accepting fic requests, i have a matt smith fic idea, can u do a behind the scenes w matt and fem!reader where they are both married in real life but they're rivals on cam, and when the scene cuts they're like all lovey dovey and their castmates are always teasing them 💟 tysmmm!!!

Thank you so much for this request anon, I loved this idea! I created an OC HOTD character for the reader to play and kind of worked her into different key moments from the show. I hope you enjoy 🙂

Tropes & Topics: total fluff

Word Count: 900

“What would you call the husband of the Queen?”

“Well, the king-”

“There it is, then.”

“...consort” 

Your eyes met Daemon’s, fury coursing through your veins. His head tilted, eyes assessing you. “That seems redundant, no?”

“I speak for the Queen when I say it is not.” 

There was a long pause as you two stared each other down before “CUT! Good work you two.”

“Darling! You were stupendous” Matt praised, walking towards you with his arms raised. Mostly joking groans sounded from the crew around you. “Oh, stop it you lot.”

“I always forget how angry you make me when you have that fucking wig on” you tease, wrapping your arms around his middle tightly. 

“I could say the same to you, my love” he chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your silver wig.

Your role on House of the Dragon was Anora, a close confidant and cousin of Rhaenyra. Given your character’s fierce loyalty to Rhaenyra, she shared a tense, often hostile, relationship with Daemon which you two delighted in playing as it was so opposed to your real-life dynamics as newlyweds. 

“Are you love birds ready for lunch now that you’ve terrorized the crew?” Emma’s voice called from behind Matt and you threw a grin their way. 

“Are they up to it again?” Harry seconded from behind them. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to” you argued and Matt chuckled beside you, his arm resting along your shoulders as you followed the pair off the studio lot. 

“Oh, so you don’t remember the post-wedding incident?” Emma posed and you felt your face warm as the memory flooded your mind. 

“Wed?! Laenor has just died!” you shouted, whipping around to face your best friend and her apparent new husband. 

“No, cousin, he’s not dead. We arranged it so he could be free and we could marry” Rhaenyra explained and your eyes widened. 

“You let our monstrous uncle convince you of this?!” 

“Watch your tongue” Daemon replied, eyes blazing.

“Or what?” 

“Or I’ll take it.”

You took out the dagger you kept hidden on your side, “Well come on then, Daemon. You don’t frighten me.” 

“Enough!” Rhaenyra screamed, stepping between you both. “Cousin, this was my decision he forced me to do nothing. He wants to better support my claim to the throne when the time inevitably comes.” 

“He will be your ruin, Rhaenyra. Mark my words.”

“CUT! I think we got it guys, take five.” 

“My fierce wife!” Matt cheered, picking you up and swinging you around as you laughed. 

“Must you do this every take?” the director questioned, earning laughs from the cast and crew on set. 

“Am I wrong? She was incredible” he praised, placing you down and lovingly straightening the wig he’d disheveled in his excitement. 

“Yes, yes, your wife is brilliant and we’re all lucky to be graced with her presence” Emma teased and you stuck your tongue out at them. 

“The most brilliant one of us is you, my love” you tell him and are met with another chorus of groans as you giggle and squeeze his hand in yours.

“Oh! And you can’t forget the birthing scene from last season’s finale, that one was iconic.” Harry added and Emma eagerly nodded their agreement.

Rhaenyra wailed from the bedchamber behind you as you charged after Daemon. “What are you doing Daemon? She needs you!” 

“She needs someone to prepare for war, I can do nothing for her in that room.” 

“She’s calling for you Daemon, not me! She doesn’t want you to act on her behalf, just to be her husband.” 

“I am your king now!” he roared, turning around so quickly you slammed into his chest, his hands gripping your shoulders painfully to keep you upright.

“You overstep Daemon. You are no more than her king consort” you replied, adjusting your stance and fighting the wince of pain wracking your system.

Matt’s face completely broke, false anger draining from it, “Love, are you alright? I’m sorry everyone but she’s injured, we have to cut.” 

“Matt, it’s fine I could have finished the scene” you insisted but your argument fell flat as your ankle rolled out from beneath you. 

He didn’t hesitate, one arm gripping under your knees, the other under your arms to lift you off your feet. “Where’s the medic?!” 

“Matthew, it’s a twisted ankle, not a mortal wound” you assured but his face was panicked. “Hey, look at me” you said firmly, hand cupping his cheek. His hazel eyes met yours and you could see him fighting to control his fear that you were seriously injured. 

“I’m not putting you down until someone’s looked at your ankle” he insisted and you nodded your agreement. “I’m so, so sorry darling.”

“It was an accident, I’m fine, I promise” you replied, pulling his face down to yours for a brief kiss. 

“We have to release this as a blooper, the fans will eat it up!” you heard Emma call as Matt carried you off set towards the medic tent with the cameras still rolling.

“How could we forget? It went absolutely viral” Matt groaned and you laughed, pinching his side.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get charged with spousal abuse” you tease and he rolls his eyes as the others laugh. 

“Keep it going, I’ll just save up my annoyance with you for when we’re back on set.”

matt smith taglist: @slayraxes-blogs @littlehorrorlover

I'm always happy to hear any feedback, message me if you want to get added to the taglist! I have a few more asks waiting that will be out soon 🫶🏻

[torantuga]

iii had an idea today 4 my alenoah dads au: an au inside of an au!

-> where the mudaliar-burromuerto siblings (mk and nick, who is not my oc but a design for mk's canonical brother that i posted on my blog a couple days ago ithink) accidentally find themselves back in the year in which total drama: world tour was being filmed!! and realise their dorky loveydovey gay dads were at each other's necks almost two decades ago

-> i probably will makee aa fic out of this if i get 1) the motivation and 2) the time to do it:-)

-> ii dont care about canon, alenoah in the present are almost in their 40s and worldtour was filmed way before 2010.....

-> i was thinking of adding some of the reboot characters into the mix as well but idk, mkulia'd be nice but i honestly can't see her being related to any of the cast members, maybe emma or priya for moral support? i'll figure smt out

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 1

read on ao3! (111k words) | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Story summary: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Word count: 2k

Chapter 1: ‘Marked for Death’

Death coated the back of Juliet’s throat.

This was not unusual. The aroma of rot and decomposition was commonplace in the body disposal department of the Boston QZ. However, if Juliet could actually taste it simmering on her tongue, it meant one thing: she needed a new mask. 

The threadbare fabric tied tight around her nose and mouth was singed earlier in the day when her shift partner tossed a body, with more force than necessary, into the large fire pit in the middle of the square. A few wayward sparks had settled on her mask, gradually burning through the cheap material. 

Juliet often wondered how the sickly sweet smell of decay could still remain when fire and smoke cleansed the air.

It didn’t surprise her, though: death always lingered. 

It was hour eight of her usual Tuesday shift. One more hour and Juliet could collect her ration cards, find her way to the nearest fabric stall then drag herself back to her tiny apartment. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her today, settling in her bones and restricting her movements. Her shift followed a pattern: walk to the loading truck, pick up a body, place it in the fire and try not to look as the skin blackened and blistered. 

The same task, the same people, every week, every month and every year of her residence in the Boston QZ. Every day was a repeat of the previous but she was safe and she was hidden, which was all she could hope for. 

More bodies, more fire and her shift was over. Another day completed. Juliet used the stained fabric of her t-shirt to wipe the ash from her hands and forehead as she joined the ration queue. She was in line behind Joel Miller, a man who had worked at body disposal as long as she had, probably longer actually.

Tall, with broad shoulders and dark brown hair speckled with grey and ash, Joel Miller towered above her with more than his height. He was impressive, intimidating. Juliet watched as he stretched his neck to the side and wiped the sweat beading on his skin, his shoulders were tight, his stance solid. 

Joel had a presence difficult to ignore, being around him always felt like the air had a little less oxygen, as though he took up a bit more space than everyone else. He didn’t talk much, or ever really, just a few grunts and hard instructions grumbled under his breath to whoever was partnered with him on shift. 

Juliet found herself drawn to Joel, despite their lack of interactions. Her eyes would follow his movements as they worked, observing his cool indifference as he performed their grim duty. She would notice him around the QZ, too. He was a ghostly presence, often found haunting street corners and disappearing in a blink of an eye. 

Juliet knew little about Joel, only that he sold drugs to her weird neighbour who had drunkenly offered her some while attempting to break into her apartment the other night. She added another lock to her door after that.

“Next!” barked the ration officer, shaking Juliet from her thoughts. 

She took a step forward and watched as Joel disappeared around the corner, shuffling ration cards in his smoke covered hands. Juliet wondered if he, too, had grown entirely numb to their gruesome occupation.

Juliet wondered if something worse, something more ghastly, haunted his daily life. 

After collecting her ration cards and buying a new mask, Juliet made her way home to her crumbling one bedroom apartment. Home was perhaps a strong word, what with its peeling twenty-year wallpaper, mould stained ceilings and less than ideal neighbours. But it was her’s. 

Turning the corner onto her street, Juliet’s eyes landed on a hunched form on the front step of her building. Juliet let out a sigh, quickened her steps and forced a smile onto her face. Margaret was waiting for her.

Margaret was her eighty-five year old neighbour who lived on the bottom floor of their building. She enjoyed long conversations, hard liquor, and gossiping about the inner workings of her neighbour's lives. 

“Juliet!” Margaret gasped out.

“Hi, Margaret,” Juliet called as she approached, her plastered smile beginning to falter as Margaret struggled to stand.

Juliet moved to hold the woman’s frail arms, she was frantic, her hands grasping at Juliet’s shoulders, desperate to gain her full attention.

“No, you must listen,” Margaret began, before doubling over, releasing a series of strangled coughs and gasps.

“Someone,” she coughed. “Someone was here…” croaked Margaret while pointing her shaking hand behind her, towards the door. 

“What? Who?” Juliet asked, she had never seen Margaret so panicked before. 

“Oh it was awful,” Margaret began, once again clutching Juliet’s arms, her arthritic fingers formed in a vice-like grip. 

“I was knitting at my dining table, working on my sweater… I must show you Juliet, it’s looking so wonderful, I used…”

“Stay focused,” Juliet interrupted, her voice soft and pleading. “What happened?”

“Yes! So, then I heard what sounded like someone marching through the hallway,” Margaret continued, her words quick and tense. 

“I knew it wasn’t yourself or Kenny because you were both working. So I got up and looked out my peep-hole.” Margaret’s voice had grown quieter, now almost a whisper.

“And I watched as two men with dark jackets walked past my door and headed upstairs”

“Next thing I know, I hear this horrendous crash. Now, I know it must have been bad because I could hear it! And you know how terrible my hearing is.”

Shock covered Juliet’s features, their apartment building had always been quiet, always lucky to avoid the crime raging the Boston QZ. 

“Did you see them leave?” Juliet asked, her voice urgent.

“Yes, thank god,” Margaret answered. “But dear… I think it was your apartment they went into, and by the sound of it, they surely broke down the door.”

Fuck, Juliet thought. Her heart now feverishly pumping the familiar blaze of fear throughout her body. “Stay here,” Juliet ordered, her voice hard as she moved to release her arms from the old woman’s grip. “I’ll go check it out.”

“Please be careful,” Margaret urged, clasping her hands together in a silent prayer. 

Stepping into the building, Juliet paused, listening. So familiar with the hum of her neighbours’ usual routines, Juliet could recognise any foreign noise. But no sound was unusual, nothing was amiss… that she could hear anyway. 

Feeling somewhat certain no strangers were lurking in the building, ready to emerge from a dark corner and grab her, Juliet decided to keep moving.

Climbing the steps to the first floor, her body was on high alert; any weariness from her gruelling shift was gone, adrenaline now coated her muscles. Only a sharp, steady focus remained. 

Reaching her apartment, Juliet stopped, her feet frozen. The door lay open with three of her four locks fractured, surrounded by splintered wood and chipped paint. The fourth lock lay on the floor by her feet, where it must have fallen after being brutally pried from the door. Juliet felt a sinking feeling deep in her gut. Each lock had become an emblem of her security in the Boston QZ. Now they were shattered. A stark reminder that her safety was never guaranteed. 

Juliet reached out, her fingers grazing the fractured wood as she gingerly pushed the door all the way open, moving into her apartment. A deep breath and a long exhale later, Juliet stood in her dining area, eyes now locked on a piece of folded paper on her kitchen table. 

She moved closer, Juliet’s body had lost its stamina, her limbs weighed her down. Each step towards the yellowed piece of paper was like wading through dark, chilled water. 

When she was close enough to recognise the handwriting, everything stilled. The air, the room, her beating heart… all slowing around her. A chorus of no, no, no, no, no, surged through her mind, spiralling inward, forming a shield around the memories threatening to resurface at the sight of that familiar scrawl. 

One hand gripped the edge of the table, tangled in the tablecloth, while the other tentatively lifted the paper. ‘My sweet Juliet’ it read in writing she knew so intimately it could have been etched on her heart. Carved with a sharp, brutal knife. 

A high pitched ringing enveloped her mind, numbing all sound apart from the echo of her shallow breaths. Juliet’s ash caked fingernails traced the edge of the worn paper, she pulled it apart to reveal a message: 

‘Juliet, 

How does it feel living so far from home? Surrounded by strangers. 

I admit I was shocked that night you left, I wondered what more you could desire, out in the wasteland of our world, that I had not provided you with? I imagine you have come to the conclusion, by now, that there is nothing else worth living for than the love of our lord. You see, I have eyes and ears in places you could never imagine. My men know the power of our lord and live with his blessing every day. I sent these men to find you, Juliet. I sent them to bring you this message. 

I have your friend Ethan in my care now, he has taken your place until you return to me. I have every hope that will be soon my dear, Juliet. He, too, screams when the judgement of our lord is upon him.  

Travel safely; the lord does not bless the sinners of this earth, 

Your father.’  

Ethan… No.  

Three years, three blissful years only focused on her own survival, liberated from the torture of her childhood. She left Ethan behind, she thought he would be safe. She was wrong, so very wrong.

Why, though, had her father waited so long to find her? To threaten her with Ethan’s safety? His life? She must have hidden well, burrowed herself so deep in the mundane of everyday QZ life, that even her father’s men, dotted about the country, had not found her for three years. 

Yet now her nameless existence had come to an end, slaughtered in a matter of seconds. Juliet’s hand clenched, crushing the paper within her palm. 

She had to go back. For Ethan, she would go back. 

The thought alone made her choke on her breath, gasping for air in the silent room.

Experience had taught her not to take her father’s threats lightly. 

Her journey to Boston was monstrous. Juliet witnessed sights which forever scarred the insides of her eyelids, appearing before her on dark and sleepless nights. Could she travel that distance again? Alone? Knowing what’s out there? No… she would die and so would Ethan. 

Juliet stumbled to her moth-eaten couch and sank into the decaying cushions. She reached her shaking hands to her eyes and pressed her fingers to her eyelids, pushing harder until only a dark nothingness remained. Her life in the Boston QZ was over…for Ethan she would return to the man who haunted her every step, his existence always reminding her she would never be fully free. 

Reluctance acceptance washed over her. For Ethan she would return to her prison, almost assuredly never to escape again. 

Removing her hands from her eyes, Juliet released a trembling sigh. Accepting her powerlessness brought a distance from her emotions. The thought of Ethan and the immediacy of the situation had started to drown out her terror and regret, leaving behind a cold numbness. 

In her emotionless stupor, Juliet started to plan her way out of the QZ.

A loose floorboard hid a map and a variety of makeshift weapons, including a switchblade which Juliet liked to keep sharp. Both were now on the coffee-table before her, Juliet hunched over the map tracing her journey with the tip of her blade.

There was one problem she couldn’t solve: this was not a journey she could make alone. Juliet survived her journey to Boston on sheer luck and willpower. She would risk her own life, but not Ethan’s. She had to get there alive.

Her blade stilled, its tip pierced through the rough paper into the hardwood table. Juliet’s racing thoughts had settled on the one person she knew had both spent a significant amount of time outside of the QZ and had a route out…

Joel Miller. 

Fuck.

[uceyliyahh]

UNDER YOUR TOUCH

Summary: After her difficult breakup, Tiana wanted to start anew with her life. That's when she realized her life would be better when she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 3250

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Tiana

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️

@pinkwithhearts @jstarr86 @420days @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @bebesobrielo @hunnidmilly @zillasvilla @fearlesschimera @yana3sworld @skyesthebomb @xbriexx

XIII.

trinity_fatu, biancabelairwwe, zillafatu and others like your post.

uceyjucey: she knows imma spoil her ass rotten. 😩 tianasworld: 🤗🤗 uceyjucey: @ tianasworld wifey 🤍 trinity_fatu: JOSH WIFE HER UP NEOW! uceyjucey: @ trinity_fatu chill sis I'm not finna rush into that. biancabelairwwe: omggg Joshua stop playin dawg. zillafatu: you better wife her up cuzzo fasho 🫡 theyhatelani: this pick me ass girl uceyjucey: @ theyhatelani gtfo

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uceyjucey, theyhatekai, MontezFordWWE and others liked your post.

tianasworld: I love it when he spoils me😩🤭 uceyjucey: yk imma spoil you mamas with yo' cute ass. 😮‍💨 tianasworld: @ uceyjucey 🤭 theyhatekai: take me off the restraining order tink tianasworld: @ theyhatekai didn't I just block you? damn how many accounts you got? biancabelairwwe: bestie can yall get married now? Like I can drive yall to the courthouse to get it done I want a niece. 🥲🥲 MontezFordWWE: I see you uce spoiling ya woman.

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TIANA

Jey has been doing a lot for me these past couple of weeks, taking me out on dates, going to the beach, or taking me on late-night walks to talk about things. It just made my heart flutter, and I love him even more.

He was trying to make me feel stress free away from all the drama that's been circulating lately between his ex-girlfriend then to Kai and his parents keep bugging me about the restraining order which I'm not taking in off I don't need him near me.

Ever since I put hands on his momma he's been trying to get in touch with me to speak on the matter but I didn't have nothing else to say to him nor to her as well it was getting ridiculous at this point.

'Why his people so delusional just excusing the fact that he put his hands on me.'

I was out back smoking some weed. I took a few puffs before putting it down on the tray, admiring the view as the wind was blowing.

Jey had to go back to work which kind of made me sad and I missed him so much. I haven't really been at work or even check up on my nail shop since that incident between me and Kai including Emma.

But I told my clients that I'll be back soon due to personal reasons, and they all understood, which I loved, honestly.

I took a few more puffs from the pre-roll blunt as I blew the smoke in the air, and a satisfying sigh escaped my lips.

I pulled my phone out while scrolling through my social media, replying to some of my clients and others in the comments section. As I was doing that, I saw that Bianca had texted me.

Breezy sent 3+ messages Breezy: Hey bestiee I see that Joshua has been taking you out lately you deserve it tho period. Breezy: also ion wanna bring it up but his mama came over again today but this time we wasn't home I saw it on the ring camera. Breezy: when is yall going to get married and have babies already?

I chuckled at her last text message that I read she's so dramatic.

Tiana: girl fuck his mama atp because I'm over it I'm not taking Kai of the restraining order. Breezy: period as you should I'm getting tired of her too. Tiana: speaking of marriage and kids B ion wanna rush into all of that I don't want it to be a disaster you know? Breezy: I understand girl so how are you goin to feel when he does pop out with that question? Tiana: imma say YES duhh girl but then I'll be crying😭😭 Breezy: girl I am done with you chileee are you alone at his crib? Tiana: yeah, he's at work which I'm sad I miss my man girl Breezy: he'll be home girl but I was just checking in on you I miss you being at home. Tiana: Montez getting in your nerves? 😭😭 Breezy: YESSS Tiana: Girl bye you know you love him. Breezy: that's true but I'll text you later girly Tiana: byeee

I smoked the last bit of the blunt as I put it out before heading back inside the house and hearing the keys jiggling, knowing that Jey finally came home.

"Mamas? I'm home!" He shouted.

I ran over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he told me to jump, and I did while his hands were resting on top of my ass, carrying me to the couch.

He removed his book bag and threw it next to him while he kept me in place on his lap. I cupped his face with my small hands and kissed him on the lips.

"I missed you bubba," I said pulling away.

"I missed you too, ma; what did you do when I was gone?" Jey asked.

I explained to him about my day and the talking to Bianca about what she had told me before he came home. Him listening and watching me ramble about my day just made my heart flutter.

I felt him caressing my cheek in the process of me rambling which made me look away for a second causing him to chuckle.

Grabbing my chin pulling me in for another kiss but this time it was different. We made out as his tongue slipped into my mouth as I gripped onto his mullet.

As we continued to passionately tongue kiss each other, I felt him scooping me up from my thighs while taking us upstairs towards his bedroom, not removing our lips from each other.

He pinned me on the bed, never leaving my lips as I felt him removing my clothing along with his as his lips escaped mine putting them onto my neck, sucking it like a vampire.

As a moan escaped from my lips as I felt him rub my pussy as I continued to grip onto his mullet.

"I haven't even did anything to you yet and you're wet for me baby." He rasped.

SMUT WARNING He had my legs pinned behind my head as he was digging his dick deep inside of me. All I could do was moan his name loudly, gripping onto his biceps tightly.

"I love how you're just taking it mama." He whispered as he held onto my throat pounding me senselessly.

My walls were clenching around him as a groan escaped his lips gazing down at me. Watching my facial expression turn up every time he dug deeper inside of me, which satisfied him.

He leaned over to place a soft kiss on my lips as I let out a gasp when he pushed his dick deeper inside of my gushy insides.

He watched me tremble underneath him. "C'mon mamas you got it give it me." Jey started to circle his hips hitting my spot causing me to hold onto him tightly.

Our skins were slapping against each other as our moans and groans were heard all over the room. I didn't know how much I could take from this man.

My eyes were rolling in the back of my head. "J-Joshhhh F-fuck." I whined weakly, feeling that familiar pit going down my stomach.

I always felt very overwhelmed when it time for me to nut on this man. I tried to push him away by his stomach, but he slapped my hands away, drilling my wet cunt vigorously.

"Stop runnin' from me and take this dick Ma." He rasped into my ear feeling his balls slapping against my clit.

I scratched his back causing him to hiss as he rubbed his thumb on my clit which drove me insane.

He continued to grip my throat firmly, not trying to hurt me, as I felt my toes curling up while his strokes were getting sloppier and sloppier.

I was tapping onto his back, signaling that I was going to cum. "Use your words baby, let daddy know what's up." I loved when he sweet talked me  making me want to stop using birth control and have his kids now.

I felt my legs shaking violently underneath him as I let out a loud moan while cumming all over him. He kissed me on the cheek as he continued to sweet talk me.

Cursing underneath his breath as he continued to pound my now sensitive cunt deeper while I grip onto his mullet tightly.

Not too long after, he came inside of me, filling me up with his seed as a groan escaped his lips. Jey pulled out seeing me shaking violently while trying to catch my breath.

SMUT OVER. Jey went inside his bathroom getting everything prepared for us to take a bath together. As I lie there in his bed still shaking violently trying to calm myself down.

He for sure put that thang on me. I've seen him coming out his bathroom holding his hand out for me to get up knowing damn well I couldn't walk.

"Can you walk mama?" Jey asked.

"Yes of course Josh I can walk, hell no nigga I cannot walk sir." I said sarcastically while rolling my eyes.

"very funny tink c'mon I'll carry you." I held his hand as he carried towards his bathroom while shutting the door behind him.

Sitting me down on the edge of the tub as I attempted to get in by myself as Jey did the same thing. he wrapped his arms around my waist as me and him sigh in relief as the warm water hit our body.

I lay my head back on his chest as he gave me a soft kiss on the lips.

"How are you feeling baby?" He asked.

"I'm feeling fine love, more relaxed than ever." I said as I looked up at him.

"That's good; my mama keeps asking me when we are going to get married and have kids together." I nod my head while listening to him.

"I told her I didn't want to rush or pressure you into that yet until you're ready." I loved how he respected my wishes because I am confident that I want to marry and have his babies too.

I smiled at him as he placed a kiss on my thick lips  causing us to get caught up in another make out session but this time I was in control as my hand snaked down around his harden member.

Stroking it up and down as he threw his head back. "Why don't you come suck it I missed yo' pretty ass lips on my dick mama."

SMUT WARNING

We were still in the tub that was filled with warm water and bubbles as I was bobbing my head up and down on his dick sucking his sensitive tip.

Moans and Groans escaped his lips as he gazed down at me, going down on him while throwing his head back.

"Shit mama keep goin'" He grabbed a whole load of my hair, thrusting his hips up and down as he face fucked me.

As I was deep throating his dick I was circling my tongue on his tip while he pushed his dick deeper inside of my throat causing me to gag a bit.

He was sweet talking me through it giving me compliments and encouraging me to keep going down on him.

He pulled me back up, hearing that pop go out of my mouth as he kissed me on the lips. I continued to down on him deeper feeling the tip of his dick hit the back of my throat trying not to gag.

"I want you to gag on this dick mama, make me nut." He rasped.

I swirled my tongue around his tip as I gazed up at him, seeing him gripping onto the side of the tub while rolling his eyes in the back of his head.

It made me feel satisfied seeing like this since he always have me like that so a little payback won't hurt.

I had him shaking underneath me as he kept clenching his legs tightly. "Make me nut mama, make me fuck..." his moans we heard all over the bathroom.

I felt his dick twitching inside of my mouth as I kept sucking the tip because that's all I needed to do to get him there.

After a while he groaned loudly as he nut all over my face while I was tapping his dick onto my tongue in the process.

He was shaking violently just like how I was while gazing down at me.

"Fuck mama, that felt so good." He breathed out seeing his tatted chest going up and down trying to catch his breath.

SMUT OVER.

✧.* JEY Me and Tiana were cuddled up together in the bed as she was sleeping soundly meanwhile I was scrolling through my social media seeing everyone supporting our relationship.

That's when her phone went off not wanting her to wake up I leaned above her body grabbing her phone in the process. Seeing that Bianca was calling her so I picked it up.

OTP Breezy: Tiana? I need you and Josh home like now. Tiana: this is Josh what's going on B? Breezy: Malakai and his momma are banging on our door looking for Tiana and Montez is trying to tell them to leave. Tiana: I can come over there real quick Tiana is sleeping right now B. Breezy: Please Josh that would be great. Tiana: I'll be there in a few minutes B. Breezy: thank you Josh.

CALLED ENDED.

Don't this guy ever quit? Why is he harassing her people like this? I looked at Tiana who was sleeping on my chest peacefully as I placed her on her pillow quietly without trying to wake her up.

I put on the clothes I had on earlier, grab my keys, and head out the door, texting Jon.

Twin📌: I just got your message what's up uce? Jey: Tiana's ex and his momma are messing with Bianca and Montez so I need backup just in case some shit go down. Twin📌: where's Tiana? Jey: she is at my crib sleeping right now I'm otw over to her house. Twin📌: ight I'll tell Trin I'm heading out so she won't get worried. Jey: ight uce.

I was driving fast towards Tiana and em house going to handle this. I finally pulled up to the crib seeing his momma car there while they were banging on their door.

I got out of my car seeing Jon pulling in the driveway he came up to me as we dabbed it up before walking up to them.

"Aye, imma need yall to get the fuck on like deadass." I said while I stood there with my arms folded.

They both got startled while turning their heads looking at me and my brother Jon standing behind them.

"Oh, it's yo' bitch ass where the fuck is Tiana?" Malakai questioned.

"Her whereabouts are none of your business fuck boy, so why don't you and yo' momma leave, or it'll be some problems." He came up to me showing his strap something that Tiana was telling me about.

I chuckled at him then looked at Jon who was also chuckling with me too this fool think I'm scared of a gun. I stood my ground being all up in his face while looking into his eyes.

"You might wanna back up, boy, that damn gun. Don't scare me; I'll still beat yo' ass in the process." I spat, pushing him off, causing him to tumble a bit.

"Fuck you, you don't deserve Tiana I should've beat her ass some mor���" before he could finish his sentence I sucker punched him in his jaw causing him to fall on the ground seeing his momma coming to his aid.

I was on top of him beating his head in. I was not finna tolerate him talking down on Tiana like that when she's not here to defend for herself.

As I was beating his head in his momma tried to pull me off but Bianca came to my aid pushing his momma out the way as I continued to beat the fuck out of him.

Montez seen that ol' boy was trying to reach for his strap but instantly grabbed it throwing it somewhere meanwhile I grabbed a whole load of his hair dragging him as a threw him against the brick wall, hearing him winch in pain.

"Next time you wanna speak on Tiana you better respect her, and YOU don't deserve her like I do bitch ass boy." I kicked him in his stomach as Jon held me back from him as I calmed down.

"Calm down Uce, you know Tiana don't want nun happening to you." Jimmy said as I nodded my head agreeing with him.

His momma slapped me across the face as I held my face while smirking a little bit she was so lucky that Tiana was at my crib sleeping right now.

"HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO MY SON I CAN GET YOU ARRESTED!" she shouted.

"you and yo' bummy ass son will also get arrested for trespassing  and goin against the restraining order." I said as I felt my phone buzzing.

I saw that Tiana was calling me as I answered the phone.

OTP ZaddyJey🤍: mama? What's up? Mamas🩷: where are you right now bubba? ZaddyJey: I'm handling business right now mama what are you doin up? Mamas🩷: don't sugarcoat that shit with me Josh what's happening? ZaddyJey🤍: I'm over at your crib because ol' boy and his momma were messing with Bianca and em so Bianca called you but you were sleep. Mamas🩷: is everything okay? ZaddyJey🤍: yeah mama I'm handling it I'll be home in a little bit okay? now go back to sleep. Mamas🩷: okay baby I love you. ZaddyJey🤍: I love you too ma.

CALLED ENDED.

"Was that Tiana uce?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah, she was wondering where I was at but I told her I'll be home in a bit after this shit is over with," I replied as he nodded his head.

We saw his momma getting him up as he was limping in pain. He tried running up on me, and I sucker punched him again, as he went limp on the ground.

"Damnnnn," everyone said it together as his momma was freaking out, tapping her hand on his face.

"Y'all can leave now, so I can get back to my woman at home." I said as Jon threw my keys towards my way.

I dabbed up with Montez and hugged Bianca before heading out back home.

✧.* I finally made it home as i unlocked the door with my key while shutting it behind me making sure I locked it too. I went upstairs take off my shirt and pants that I wore seeing Tiana sleeping peacefully.

I got underneath the covers with her, pulling her back onto my chest as I felt her shift in her sleep while rubbing her eyes seeing my facial features in the dark.

"Baby? Your back?" She mumbled softly.

"Yeah I'm back tink you can head back to sleep now ight." I said softly while giving her a kiss on her forehead.

I got comfortable as I put one of my hands in the back of my head while closing my eyes going to sleep.

Under Your Touch.

A/N: whewww chileeee they are doing way to much messing with Bianca and em' but Jey stood on big business also sorry for the smuts 😭😭 it was giving pretty much bridgerton with Daphne and Simon 😭😭

I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments.

Stay Ucey.

[juliaswickcrs]

HIRAETH

rating: 14+

relationship: robb stark/oc

AO3

summary: Emma Hightower wakes in a land that is not her own with knowledge of a future that does not belong to her. But as she learned from watching Game of Thrones, knowledge is power, and despite warnings about fate and defying the will of the gods, Emma refuses to let any Starks, Tyrells, or Targaryens die at the hands of Lannisters, even if it means throwing herself in their line of sight. Even if it means throwing herself into war. {modern character in westeros, time travel fix it au}

a/n: this has been on ao3 for a while now, but @bisexualterror convinced me to post it on here! please reblog or comment if you enjoyed it!

CHAPTER ONE :: OLDTOWN

She awoke on a soft patch of grass, sunlight streaming through stained glass, crafting a kaleidoscope of colors which danced across her exposed skin. 

Her dress held tight to her frame, skirt flaring out at the waist as it gathers around her thighs. 

It is exactly what she was wearing when she touched the white bark of the tree in the center of the castle. 

Her flannel shirt dangled lazily from her shoulder as she pulls herself up, spandex peeking through the short hem of the white sundress. 

The grass refused to stay grasped in her palms, sliding through her fingers like silk. 

It seemed to be the only patch of grass in this place, the surrounding areas decorated with black marble that covered the area except for a small hole near the top.

The stained glass depicts figures Emma has never seen, and she finds herself staring at a long-haired woman grasping a bouquet of flowers with her head down. 

Besides her stands a broad shouldered man on his knees, sword in hand. 

Despite how little Emma knows, something deep in her head rings familiar, the weight of her bag dragging her shoulder down as she moves closer to the windows. 

She glances behind her for a brief moment and freezes. 

The white tree stands behind her, although it is much smaller than she remembers. 

There is no face carved into it, but the white bark and red leaves are unmistakable. 

It is nearly the exact tree Emma remembers touching after hearing the screams and yells of Cassie and Alec. 

Her leather boots clicked against the beautifully crafted floors of the Cathedral. 

That is the best approximation she can give for the place she woke up in and for all her hatred of it, Emma cannot undo the religious knowledge she grew up with. 

Stained glass, black and white marble, the sounds of choirs in the distance…it’s all horribly familiar to her and yet unknown at the same time. 

The sweet smell of incense caused her to wrinkle her nose as she continued down the narrow halls, religious imagery and icons plastered upon the walls.

It does little to quell the rising nausea in her stomach. 

She hates the smell of churches, the close walls and hymns that accompany the wide-eyed stares and whispered prayers.

“Excuse me, miss” a deep voice rumbles behind her and she whips around, hair nearly slapping the man in the face. 

He’s tall and bearded, with wide eyes resembling her own staring down at her. 

The clothes he’s dressed in are of fine fabrics with gold threaded through the deep forest green of his tunic. 

The sword that swings by his side is certainly not something Emma would see back home, but maybe people in Ireland take live action roleplay more seriously?

That was the only alternative that didn’t have Emma questioning her own sanity. 

“Are you lost?” 

His tone was one she’d heard many times, where an adult would ask a question that was clearly meant to be rhetorical. But Emma had never been good at answering those. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Her eyes fell to the grey tower and golden flames emblazoned on his doublet, the emblem feeling unmistakably familiar “I don’t know where I am, I believe—“ 

“You don’t know where you are?” The man scoffed incredulously, crossing his arms and shaking his head as if she were a child, “I’ve heard many excuses from whores, but I do believe that is a new one.”

Emma’s chest burned at the insult, “I beg your pardon?”

“Come now brother,” A melodic voice interrupted her attempt to defend herself, “Is that any way to talk to one of our own?”

A pair of long nails attached to spindly fingers landed on Emma’s shoulder, cold to the touch and causing her to tense up. 

The man sighed, “Malora, I do not have time for your antics today, surely father—“

“Father has sent me to retrieve your issue,” The woman behind her spoke pointedly, eyes staring down the man, before lowering her voice, “Or at least, that’s who he believes has shown up in the garden of the Starry Sept.”

The man shook his head again, “You and I both know Father had gone quite mad these days, surely he does not believe—“

“You don’t know what he believes anymore, brother,” the woman, Malora, spoke with a sharp tone, “You are not the one he asks to join him in the High Tower. You have not seen him of late. He is filled with dreams, ideas that no other lord would dare speak aloud, and when he asks his children to perform an errand, he expects it to be done quickly and discreetly.”

Malora’s brother tightened his grip on his sword, jaw clenching as his eyes wandered over Emma’s frame once more. 

She tried to ignore the ridiculous thoughts filling her head as the conversation took place. 

With words like Starry Sept, and High Tower standing out and joining the emblem in familiarity. 

The woman who saved her from the insult steers her past the bearded man and Emma finally catches a glimpse of her. 

She is tall and willowy, with long dark hair that seemed to match the imagery of the stained glass Emma saw earlier. Her skirts fell to the floor, causing Emma to tug on the hem of her sundress. 

They were made of a dark velvet the color of the night sky, dotted with flecks of gold and seemed to move when Malora moved. 

As they passed the bearded man, Emma stopped and stared up at him, gathering every bit of vitriol she could muster, “I’m not a whore,” She spat, “And even if I was, you could not afford me.”

The man’s face turned red and Malora’s lips tilted upward into a smirk. 

The older woman unclasped the cloak around her shoulders, “Here,” she handed it to Emma, “Unless you wish to be mistaken for a whore again, I would advise you keep that on you until we reach my father.”

Emma stared at the deep violet color for a moment before dropping her gaze toward her short hem. 

She wanted to say no, to protest against the ridiculous standards they were enforcing on her. But she had questions, and she needed to know if all of this was as impossible as she believed it to be. 

The golden strings tied neatly around her neck and Emma pulled the thick hood over her long dark hair.

She did not know where Malora was taking her, nor why the bearded man seemed intent on following them through the winding passageways and sweltering heat of what was clearly a bustling city. 

As she held tight to Malora’s hand, a series of possibilities floated through her mind. 

The first was that she’d been dragged into the middle of a very elaborate LARP scenario. 

The swords, the fancy accents, the beautiful Cathedral.

It all made sense. 

After all, Ireland was famous for their beautiful churches and…unique characters but Emma had never heard of people being this committed to the bit before. 

The second was she’d accidentally stumbled onto the set of a fantasy show for Netflix. Ireland was a popular filming place after all, and it would explain why everyone was dressed in similar silhouttes and spoke as if following a script. 

But that would not explain how she fit into this whole thing. Unless it was like that one show where everyone else was an actor except for the lone person out of the loop. 

The third was something too impossible for her to contemplate. 

But it explained more than the first two options ever could. 

The strange dialect, the clothes and belief she was a whore, the fact that the city she was now weaving through resembling nothing of the Irish countryside she’d been given a tour of before with her friends.

It all made too much sense and yet none at the same time. 

“Look out!” Malora yelled and Emma turned just in time to see a wide-eyed man with crooked teeth and a knife fall to the ground with a groan.

Blood spilled out of his mouth and onto her dress as a steel blade punctured his throat.

The bearded man stood before her with a look of disdain, but all Emma could feel the warmth of the blood spattering her face and chest, staining her dress crimson as the life left the man’s eyes. 

And suddenly the impossible became reality. 

If it was a movie, a director would have yelled cut. If it was a show, special effects would have taken place. And if it was a LARPing session, there would be no need for live steel. 

She could taste the iron.

This was real. 

The blood was real. 

Emma knelt down and grasped the knife in her hand. It was crudely made, with a misshapen wooden handle and a flimsy blade.

It punctured the tip of her finger and she winced.

The knife was real. 

This was no longer a dream, nor an impossible option. 

“Holy shit,” She whispered. 

Malora grasped her hand and quickened her pace, the bearded man falling back into place as they continued downriver.

The water rushed beside them as whispers turned to bustling conversations.

Survival instinct kicked in and Emma ran alongside the woman, still not knowing where she was headed or what her fate would be when they got there. 

A white marble bridge arched across the mouth of the rushing river toward the jagged bluffs overlooking the sea. 

The waves crashed against the obsidian fortress which lay atop the cliffs and if Emma forced herself to listen, it almost sounded like the whispers of a thousand voices every time the water hit the brick. 

It was only when a door closed behind her that Emma returned to reality, gauging her surroundings once more. 

If this really was the truth, then she would need every bit of cleverness and wit she possessed. 

She would not win battles with swords or bows or strength, only what was in her mind. 

“Are you alright?” The bearded man seemed genuinely concerned, a far cry from his behavior before, and Emma forgot that she was now covered in someone else’s blood. 

She nodded briskly, certain that her fear was written all over her face. 

The bearded man shot a look at Malora, who was already talking with two men in silver armor with more swords at their sides. 

Both of them held the same emblem on their armor the bearded man did on his doublet. 

God, why couldn’t she remember what it was?

The armored men nodded and disappeared down one of the many hallways.

Several entrances poured out into the foyer, a large spiral staircase reaching up into the endless expanse above her, carved out of the same white marble the bridge was made of. 

“Father will be expecting her,” Malora spoke in hushed tones, the woman’s lips tugging themself into a frown, “And seeing as she clearly has nowhere else to go—“

“I will bring her to Father,” The bearded man spoke, eyes darting Emma’s direction. They lingered on the blood coating her face and something akin to regret crossed his face, “The least we can do is provide her with a place to stay if he decides otherwise.”

Malora sighed and squeezed the man’s shoulder, “Thank you Bael.”

Emma tensed as Malora turned her gaze her direction, only relaxing once the woman gently pressed her hands onto her shoulders once more, “You will be safe here. I do not know what my father intends to do with you, but we will not leave you to your own devices, I will ensure it."

Emma nodded, “Thank you,” She breathed out, barely able to comprehend the woman’s words. 

They filled her with relief, and even though something seemed to dance behind the woman’s emerald gaze. 

Emma blinked, and Malora was gone. 

Her skirts swished up the endless marble staircase, and she silently wondered how the woman held the stamina to ascend the staircase without so much as blinking. 

A moment passed, and the bearded man entered her vision. 

She caught a much better look at him this time around.

Auburn hair hung neatly to his shoulders and his beard was well trimmed. The man was probably in his forties or fifties if she had to guess, close in age to Malora.

In fact, the two seemed to share the same eyes, except the man’s were a much more muted color, resembling waves of grass instead of the cut of emeralds. 

The man seemed to be waiting for something, and it wasn’t until his lips moved again that Emma realized he was asking her a question.

“Your name,” He spoke softly, as if suddenly realizing his mistake from earlier, “What is your name?”

“Emma,” She muttered, still in shock, “My name is Emma.”

“Very well, Emma.” The man spoke, offering his arm, “Follow me, I’ll take you to meet my father.”

His father. 

Of course it was his father. He was a wealthy man, probably a lord of some kind. A deep groaning sound pulled her back into the moment and she found herself staring at a very unstable, very crude elevator. 

The man walked in like he did this every day, staring at Emma for a moment before gesturing for her to follow, “Well, Lady Emma, shall I inform my father you are here or do you plan to stand there all day?”

Gulping down the bundle of nerves in the back of her throat, Emma winced as she stepped onto the wooden floor of the fragile contraption, closing her eyes as the cage shut and began creaking toward the top. 

A tough grip wrapped around her shoulders, but she dare not open her eyes for fear of seeing just how high she was dangling. 

It was worse than rides up the tall skyscrapers back home and she silently waited for a cable to break and send her plummeting like the Tower of Terror. 

The cage shrieked to a stop and she waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

But the sound of a cable snapping never came, and when she opened her eyes, the cage door was open with the bearded man offering his hand to her. 

She stepped off without taking it, balancing delicately on the balls of her feet as she pushed herself through the frame. 

“I see you still take offense to my earlier remarks, my lady,” The bearded man dropped his hand while Emma attempted to stabilize herself using the stone railing.

“Women typically aren’t fans of being called whores” Emma shot back, unsure where her voice had come from.  The man arched an eyebrow and Emma gulped, forgetting where she was for a moment, “…Sir.” She tacked on carelessly, “The only reason you’re treating me differently is because your sister and father say you should, otherwise you’d still assume I’m selling myself, right?”

The man dropped his head in shame and that was all the answer she needed. 

Now that she was behind high walls and Malora had promised her safety, her boldness returned in spades, anger rumbling in her stomach at the earlier insult. The short hem and lack of sleeves was all he had to go off of and he’d decided she must have been a prostitute. 

After all, what other option was there for a woman in these times?

She wasn’t dressed like the others around her, and she held no emblem to distinguish her as the daughter of a lord or lady. 

“And even if I was selling myself, perhaps I had no other choice,” She continued to ramble, the words coming to her as the wheels in her head turned, “Perhaps I was abandoned and left in a whorehouse, or disowned and forced to find my own way. I would hope the gods would see that and forgive me.”

The words were too honest for the world she lived in now, but she might as well take one last moment of truth before being forced to lie for however long she remained here.

With her luck, it would be the rest of her life. 

“Well said, my lady.” The man nodded, gesturing toward a magnificent gilded door with the same emblem of a tower aflame carved into the mahogany doors.

It was obviously a symbol of great importance, and Emma wished she could remember what it was. 

“With a temper and a wit like that, I can see why my father is eager to meet you.”

He lifted the bronze knocker three times, the echoing sound followed by a muffled voice of similar cadence to the man beside her. 

“Enter.” It ordered, the door swinging open. 

Anxiety clawed at Emma’s stomach as she stared into the darkness before her, the only light coming from the flame of a candle burning in the middle of the room and the sunlight from outside.

She swallowed the lump building in the back of her throat and shuffled forward, the door slamming shut behind her. 

An older man stared up at her, silvery blonde hair illuminated by the flickering flames of the lit candles surrounding a desk in the middle of the room. 

Scrolls and parchment lay scattered about the room with books open to specific pages stacked on top of one another. 

Many were scrawled in languages Emma didn’t recognize, with drawings of scales and equations written in the margins. 

Behind the man lay a stained glass window with a seven pointed star, the ledge underneath it decorated with bunsen burners and beakers and lumps of coal under magnifying glasses. 

In the shadows lay a green powder Emma had no desire to touch and she tried to memorize as much as she could to see if it jogged her memory in any capacity. 

“Ah, the Lady Emma,” The man’s eyes twinkled as if with knowledge no one else possessed, “How wonderful to receive you. I am Leyton Hightower of Oldtown, Lord of the Hightower and Beacon of the South.”

It all clicked into place. 

“I see you’ve already met my eldest daughter Malora and my heir, Baelor.” He gestured toward the bearded man behind her and the shadow beside a bookcase. 

Malora stepped out of the shadows with a comforting look, and Emma’s stomach sank further, grasping tightly to the strap of her bag.

“Now that we have all become acquainted,” Leyton continued nonchalantly, looking unbothered as Emma’s eyes darted around the room putting the pieces into place, “Perhaps you would like to tell me exactly how you ended up in Westeros.”

She gulped. 

hiraeth taglist: @bisexualterror (lmk if you wanna be added)

[eminsunnytoons]

I'm sendin' ma gifts I made for ma loved ones in my tumblr family!

Note: these were posted on my now unavailable blog @eminsunnytoons123 but I'm postin' 'em here again ^//^;

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first drawing was for Nia @nia1sworld and it's a drawing of my IRL self insert dressed as Alice and her self insert OC Nia dressed as chesire cat 💗🐱

The second drawing was for Nicole @0lemonadefox0 and it's a Birthday drawing of me myself along with Maxi (in his humanized design), Serial designation N, and Sunny and Madison while in the middle is a cake for Nicole 🧡🎷☀️ 💟🎻 💙💛🏎️ 💛🤖

The third drawing was for @fancytigercupcake and it's a picrew design of her OC Emma which she really liked, so I'll post it here again 💗💟💖

The fourth drawing was a collab drawing from Yuri @dackychansworldofhoshino and I included Sunil Roads (my co3k OC/character on top) for my side 💛🌅

The fifth drawing was a mini birthday drawing for Eli @cheezekennith in which I included Kim as Kagamine Rin from one vocaloid music video since I know Eli likes vocaloid 💖🪘

The sixth drawing was for Iggy @iggyguyy and it's a drawing of his main OC named Iggy himself 💚

The seventh drawing was once again for Iggy @iggyguyy but this is an Art trade drawing and he asked me to draw his OC Rita 🧡❤️

And finally, the eighth drawing was for Tina @nightkit92 and this was an Art trade drawing and she asked me to draw her OC Deborah while I asked her to draw Moony (whatnot Brother counterpart of Sunny) with Sunny and Salieri 💗💖💛

I hope y'all will like these, I may post more tommorow if I find more =^///////^= 💖🐱🧡🎷☀️💟🎻💙💛🏎️💛🤖💗💖💟💛🌅💚🧡❤️💗💖💛

[flowerandblood]

The Cherry Orchard (Oneshot)

[ students • modern!Aemond x fem!oc]

[warnings: just pure fluff my guys, safe space]

[description: She and Aemond are graphic design students, taking part in a competition for the best poster for a big festival in their city. When Aemond wins it, she begins to pay more attention to him, wanting to get to know him and befriend him. He remains completely indifferent, until he finds out that she can help him with a very important matter. Pure fluff.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

A competition was announced at the graphics department of the Academy of Fine Art. The task was to create a poster for the symphony orchestra festival in their city. The festival itself was called Musical Architecture and received a large amount of funding, so the first three places were to receive a cash prize. The winning design was to be hung around the city and represent the entire festival. Bell decided that it was the perfect time to show off her skills.

She created a poster design in which a simple, minimalist house was composed of only musical notes. She added typography in the background and was pleased that it was a really cool, fresh idea. The whole thing looked simple and struck with a strong, legible sign, which was immediately associated with the name of the festival. She took the printout of her poster to her professor in whose design studio she was studying, and waited.

A council composed of professors of graphics and representatives of the festival gathered to choose the best works. After a few days the results were posted, which were available to everyone along with the classification. Bell, along with other classmates, ran up curiously to see who had won. She looked at the list and sighed heavily.

First Prize: Aemond Targaryen Second Prize: Emmet Colren Third Prize: Anna Bernard 1st Honorable Mention: Bell Stark Second Honorable Mention: Emma Arryn

"For fuck's sake!" She groaned, rubbing her face in fury.

She thought that fourth place was the worst place that could be because you are so close to the podium and you can only look at it. She would have taken this loss better if the overall winner, Aemond, hadn't been a year below her and the others on the list.

Aemond immediately caught her attention. Although she saw him only during woodcut classes, because the workshops were common for all years, she practically did not exchange a word with him. He only had three friends to hang out with, but otherwise he didn't talk to anyone.

She was embarrassed to pay attention to him because she thought that he was handsome. Unlike her other colleagues who favored a light, casual style of clothing, Aemond was always smartly dressed, almost as if he were a student of law rather than an arts.

Bell often looked over his shoulder, watching him laboriously cut out his stencils. All his works more or less referred to the works of the old masters. He created them with such finesse and processed them in such a way that he added his own, original, ironic commentary to them. His prints were always perfect and clean, unlike hers.

Her work was wild and chaotic, and while she also loved Renaissance and Baroque art, she didn't have the flair for capturing detail that he did. She was too expressive, her gestures were more emotional and ill-considered, which in the end added lightness to the whole work.

She liked to listen to him from the side. When he was talking to one of his friends, Isabel, he told various interesting anecdotes about religion, culture, art history. Bell felt like he knew everything, and thought that he must have read a lot.

She mentally agreed with everything that he said and could barely stop herself from approaching him and asking him about the various things that he was talking about.

She didn't dare.

Looking at him, she thought that she could make him happy. That if he wanted to, he would find in her a friend, listener and companion of his scientific quest. Embarrassed and ashamed at the thought, she gave up trying to get his attention.

The professors of the design studio decided that from this year, the semester reviews of all works from all years will be held jointly, and not, as before, in separate studios. Bell was going to see Aemond's work for the first time as his design that won the entire competition.

When he hung up his works and stood next to them, while the professor began to talk about what his student did all year and how many competitions he won, she thought that she would burn with shame. She felt that he deserved to win this and all the other competitions.

On his poster, their town hall building was partly depicted as a violin. He invented the whole form, so that it looked perfect and at first you didn't notice the difference between the building in reality, and what his poster depicted. Everything was simplified and enhanced with a strong, decisive red color, with the addition of white and black. The poster was fresh and brilliant.

His other works, performed as tasks assigned by his professor also impressed her. He referred in them to his roots, the folklore of the region he came from, using the technique of cut-outs, woodcuts and simple gesture illustrations to achieve the effect he needed. Bell thought that he was an outstanding student and was embarrassed to have her work shown.

During midterm break, Bell thought about a topic for her thesis, which she was due to start the following year. For years she has been doing genealogical research of her family, sending letters to the State Archives and parishes, looking for birth, marriage and death records of her ancestors.

She already had a whole catalog of these documents, and she also drew her great family tree. She thought that she would like to create a book, illustrated by herself, dedicated to her great-great-grandmother, Rosalia.

One day, sitting in a woodcut class, cutting out her stencil, she was talking to Isabel, whom she had liked since she met her for the first time. Aemond listened to their exchange without speaking, bent over his work.

Isabel finally asked Bell how her thesis preparation was going and why she had chosen her great-great-grandmother. Bell had told her about it eagerly.

“In the parish records of my great-grandfather, son of Rosalia, Joseph was listed as his father, but I was surprised that my great-great-grand mother's maiden name is the same as her husband's. So I started digging through the archives and found out that Rosalia had died unmarried, and her husband's name was made up. It turned out that she gave birth to six children in her lifetime as an unwed mother." She said excitedly as she made herself a cup of tea in the shared, electric kettle. Isabel looked at her in surprise.

"So who was their father?" She asked, surprised. Bell shrugged.

"I have no idea. My grandmother told me that she heard as a child that they were probably the children of some rich aristocrat, that Rosalia worked for. I have not been able to confirm this theory." She said as she poured her tea with hot water that had just boiled. She heard Aemond shift in his seat and clear his throat softly.

It wasn't until she glanced at him over her shoulder that she saw him staring at her. He stroked his chin as if debating whether to say something.

“My great-grandmother was locked up in a psychiatric hospital by her first husband and my great-grandfather during World War II, because he wanted to marry another woman. I later learned that experiments were carried out on patients in this hospital, and she disappeared after 1944. Her hospital was bombed, but I don't know if she was still there at the time." He said low, indifferent, calm. Bell stared at him in total shock at this sudden words, and Isabel was also impressed by the story.

"This is terrible!" She said, terrified. Bell thought hard.

"Have you tried writing to the National Archives in this area? You can even call them and ask if they have documents from this hospital. They will provide information to the family free of charge, some scans are also sent by e-mail for a small fee. If you want I can help you find out more." She said softly. He pursed his lips as he stared at his work, deep in thought.

"Yes, I would be very grateful." He spoke softly.

She felt a surge of great joy at his words and the fact that she might have a chance to get to know him better.

They agreed that Aemond would bring his laptop the next day and they try to work something out together. They managed to find several articles from those years and a historian who dealt with the case of this hospital. Bell called him, but put it on speakerphone, so Aemond could hear what he was saying.

“When the area was about to be liberated, the patients were forcibly transferred to a train with cattle cars and taken to the interior of the country. The train never reached its final destination – which was another hospital. When the hospital you are talking about was bombed, it was already a field hospital. Whatever happened to your friend's great-grandmother, we probably won't know, all the documents have been destroyed. Sorry, unfortunately I don't know anything else." The man said, genuinely concerned that he couldn't give them more specific information. Bell pursed her lips at his words.

“Thank you very much. Have a nice day." She said and hung up.

Aemond stared at his hands in silence, shocked. For a moment she didn't know what to say and looked away.

"I'm sorry." She said finally. He nodded and looked at her, his eye sad, tired, but also grateful.

"Thank you."

They had exchanged a few words once in a while since then, but Bell had the feeling that there was a wall between them. She decided, however, that she would not impose herself on him and would accept that he apparently had no need to become more familiar with her.

Isabel invited her to her vernissage, which was to take place in a few days at one of the famous local restaurants and pubs in one. Bell didn't want to go there, she was tired and completely immersed in her thesis. She decided to grant her a bit of rest, and finally she arrived at the agreed time.

She walked inside and immediately saw Isabel standing at the counter with Aemond, both of them holding beers. Isabel hugged her, happy that she had come.

Bell saw Aemond look at her as if he was scared of her. He turned his head quickly, taking another gulp of beer from the bottle. They greeted each other, and after a while the owner of the premises began the vernissage with a few words of introduction. Then Isabel spoke, and people dispersed to admire her works.

Bell was delighted when she noticed her classmates in the crowd of people - Emma and Peter, lovely, cheerful, talented people.

They sat together at one of the tables, ordering drinks, talking lightly on various topics. Bell saw Isabel and Aemond join several tables and sit down in a large group with their entire year.

For some reason, Bell felt sad at the thought that she probably wouldn't say a word to him for all evening. As she got up to go to the restroom and passed them, she saw Aemond glance at her from afar, but he turned quickly back to talking to his classmate. Bell thought that she would be heading home soon, heartbroken.

However, Isabel approached them and suggested, seeing that many people had already left, that the three of them join them and spend the evening with them. They gladly accepted this offer, took their chairs and sat down.

Bell decided that she wanted to get drunk to mask her sadness and desperation. She began to tell Isabel about her childhood stories, how she was a mafia boss in kindergarten and no one could take any toy from the shelf without her knowledge.

Isabel laughed loudly, and with her several people who listened with amusement. She saw that Aemond was looking at her. He stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face, and she thought with shame that he probably thought that she was a stupid idiot.

People slowly went home and said goodbye to everyone, but she didn't want to leave as long as he was there. Eventually the six of them stayed together and sat closer to each other, Aemond ordering another beer.

She could see that he was already slightly drunk, but he tried his best to show it as little as possible. After an hour, Isabel and her friend said that they were hungry and were going home to eat something. Emma and Peter also said that they had to go back.

In the end, they were alone.

"Was this city your first choice when you applied to Academy?" She asked curiously, wanting to strike up any kind of neutrally safe conversation. He looked at her in surprise, toying with his beer bottle.

“No.” He said finally. “I wanted to get to the capital, but they did not accept me. I failed my exams and ended up here, because only here was there still recruitment. It was probably my biggest failure in life.” He said casually, looking at his bottle absently. Bell rolled over in place and smiled warmly.

"I'm glad you didn't get in there." She said, before she could think what it sounded like. Aemond looked at her in shock, swallowed softly, and looked down, embarrassed. He did not answer.

She wanted to add something and deepen her thought, so that he wouldn't feel so awkward, but a waiter approached them, informing them that he was about to close the place. They had to quickly drink what they had and leave.

They settled outside the restaurant, looking at themselves uncertainly, not knowing, what to do.

"Which way are you going?" He asked, without looking at her. She pointed to the main, lit street on the right. He nodded and said that he was going there too.

They walked together, and for a moment there was a long, awkward silence between them which he broke.

"Simon is imposing on you?" He asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and she, surprised, giggled at his question.

Simon was an odd character in their year, who sought constant attention. He made himself an infinite artist, having a great opinion of himself. He also constantly tried to establish new artistic relationships, create a kind of bohemianism, be the leader of an artistic group that he would create himself.

“He offered to take pictures of me, using the 19th-century technique. I don't have any pictures of my great-great-grandmother, so I agreed to pose in period attire. I had to pose for him in his rented room and I have to admit, it was incredibly weird. He wanted me to come over later that evening to see him develop the photos, but I figured that he probably wanted me to see something else." She said amused, the alcohol buzzing in her head, making everything seem laughable to her. Aemond smirked at her words.

"You did right. He also texts me all the time, praising my works. He's attention seeking whore and he annoys me so much." He hummed low and she looked at him, happy and beaming that they were finally talking lightly.

She felt a pleasant shiver as their shoulders rubbed against each other once in a while. Even though they didn't have to, they walked very close to each other.

Bell looked at him, seeing the street that he should turn on. She knew roughly where he rented a room, because Isabel lived nearby and had told her once.

"Isn't your street over there?" She sputtered softly, pointing diagonally, her seeing blury. She saw him purse his lips at her words, repeat the mechanical movement of stroking his chin with his hand again. She thought that he did it when he was stressed.

"No. I'll feel better if I walk you home." He said after a moment. Bell felt a heat in her belly at his words, and it wasn't the alcohol.

They set off together, talking about light, non-committal topics. Aemond looked around her neighborhood, surprised as if he suddenly recognized where he was.

"Isn't there a church not far from here?" He asked low, evidently the alcohol had begun to imprint on him as strongly as it had on her. Bell nodded.

"Yes, right behind that house." She said, pointing her finger at the tower that was barely visible in the night sky. Aemond muttered under his breath, agreeing with her.

"I go there every Sunday." He said lightly, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought that he came so close to her home every week and she didn't know it.

He took her to the building itself. They stared at each other for a moment.

She couldn't help herself and just hugged him. He returned the hug stiffly and turned away, wishing her a good night. Bell returned to the apartment delighted.

Since then, she and Aemond had exchanged messages from time to time, often simply complaining about Simon and how he tormented them.

[Bell]: I feel like his mistress that he is cheating on you with.

[Aemond]: I feel the same, he fucks us as he wants. Should I be jealous?

[Bell]: About me or about him?

[Aemond]: Good question.

She pursed her lips as she read his words, her cheeks blushed. They used to say such sentences to each other from time to time, and she felt subconsciously, that even though they both pretended that they weren't, there was something going on between them.

They started going out together with his other friends to the city. Isabel always invited her, but now that she knew more of their year, she felt more at ease with all of them.

They sat down in one of the pubs, on a large, arched couch, in front of which was a big, round table. Even though there was plenty of room on the other side, Aemond sat down next to her. She took a sip of her drink, trying to hide the smile that appeared on their faces.

They sat there for several hours, talking about their professors, their classes and difficult assignments, unfinished projects and exams that were still ahead of them. The bartender finally told them that they were about to close, so they got up to leave. Aemond, Isabel, and Bell were walking in the same direction.

Bell instantly regretted her decision not to go to the restroom. She considered running into some bushes before her bladder gave out. She pursed her lips, feeling like she really wasn't going to last any longer.

"I need to go to the restroom." She mumbled softly, looking at them. Aemond looked at her in surprise and swallowed.

"You can come over, but I warn you, my roommates have turned this apartment into a pigsty." He said low and hesitant, embarrassed by his proposal.

Bell felt a heat in her lower abdomen at his proposal. The thought of being alone with him, at night, in his apartment.

"Stupidity, I live closer! Come to me Bell, I live around the corner already!” Isabel said cheerfully, not understanding that she had just ruined her entire plan.

Neither she nor Aemond could explain why Bell should go to him when she did live closer so Bell, disappointed, went to Isabel and returned home.

As she was going to bed, she saw that Aemond had shared with her via the app a link to a Facebook event about a lecture at the museum about Renaissance art, which they both found to be interested in. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that he had written another message underneath it.

"Do you want to come with me?"

Bell wondered for a long time if this was actually a date or not. She decided not, so she dressed the way she would dress for class - dungarees, a white turtleneck, and cherry-printed socks. She let her long, dark hair down.

When she got there, she was pleased to see that Aemond was already waiting for her at the entrance. She had heard him say once that he hated being late. They both showed up ahead of time.

They greeted each other and entered without a word, taking their seats next to each other. The lecture began, and she tried to focus as much as possible on what the woman was saying, not on the fact that he was sitting next to her.

After a few minutes, she decided that she could at least glance at him once in a while. She looked at him and saw that his eye was fixed on her socks. She blinked questioningly. He looked up at her eyes, a smirk on his face.

"Nice socks, cherry." He grunted and she blushed as she turned her head away. She felt her heart pounding hard, her fingers quivering slightly in her lap.

She tried to convince herself that she hadn't been falling in love with him in recent months, but she knew that wasn't true.

After the lecture, Aemond offered to walk her back again which she greadily agreed to. As they walked, she felt him slip something into her jacket pocket and she jumped in surprise, a smile lighting up her face.

"What's that?" She asked, sticking her fingers in her pocket, feeling the little ball with the stick on it. She took it out.

It turned out to be a strawberry lollipop.

“You once told Isabel that you didn't like cut flowers. That you'd rather men bring you lollipops, because you might eat them at least." He said, feigning indifference, looking at her expectantly as if to see if her reaction would be what he expected.

She pursed her lips, looking at him happily. She thought that she could kiss him now.

"Yes, thank you, it's a wonderful gift." She said, unwrapping the lollipop and immediately popping it into her mouth.

She could see him trying hard not to watch as she slipped it in and out of her mouth once in a while with a loud click of her saliva.

When they were in front of her building, she decided that she wanted to try. That she really likes him, really values him, really wants him. She thought it might work.

Christmas break was approaching and she knew that he would be leaving in a few days. She decided that it was the perfect time to ask him for what she had wanted to do for a long time.

"I'd like to write you letters when you're gone. Will you give me the address of your family home?" She asked uncertainly, her voice trembling slightly as she popped the lollipop into her mouth again.

She saw him tense all over, his gaze rising from her lips to her bright eyes. He swallowed softly, then forced out one sentence with difficulty.

"I'll give you my address only if you give me yours."

_____

My dears, those who know my private stories from my blog may have guessed, but - beware - this story is an exact reflection of how I met my husband-Aemond. Tomorrow we celebrate our second wedding anniversary. Everything I wrote in this fanfic really happened! Of course I condensed it and left out some important events to make it make sense as a plot, but that's how we fell in love.

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96

[callmewrinkles3]

Glitch - DR3 x fem!OC

Summary: Emma’s never really found it easy to make friends before. But her next door neighbour’s grinning friend is easy to like. And flirt with. And text even when their schedules are so different. Maybe it’s a weird glitch, but she’s only young once. What could go wrong?

Words count: 3.2k

Warning: Fluff and more fluff, flirt all around, alcohol consumption and hangovers, swearing because we don’t know how to write without it, Blake being a sunshine.

A/N: Hi everyone! We can’t believe this is happening. It feels weird to leave our new little baby out in the world but we’re really happy and excited about doing it. We really hope you love our girl Emma as much as we love her. She’s feisty, fun, and hates Zak Beige as much as we do which is an Important Thing In The Future. We also hope you get to love the story as much as much we do. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoy writing it. Its gonna be a wild ride full of gossip, snuggles, media post and some angst. This is the fist of we have no idea how many chapters, but its gonna be more than two for sure lol Anyway, let us know what you think?? Enjoy and see you around soon!💜

—

Glitch - January 2018

At the start of it, Emma swore they were supposed to be just friends. That’s how everything started, friends. Daniel didn’t live anywhere near her so it was impossible for them to run into each other unless they made the effort to. But then she was arriving home at the same time as the new guy who’d moved in next door had, and they ended up becoming friends. So when Blake arrived at her front door inviting her to his apartment the next night for his birthday, she couldn’t say no. He wanted to warn her about the noise, be a good neighbor because they were actually home, and the invitation fell out of his mouth. And she said yes.

Sometimes she thought saying yes to that was her best and worst decision.

That Saturday night she didn’t think about it. Instead she got dressed up in a little black dress, put on makeup, grabbed up the nicer than she’d buy for herself bottle of wine she‘d picked up for the occasion and knocked on Blake’s door. They were friendly acquaintances, the Australian trusted her with a key to his apartment because he worked for Red Bull and travelled around the world on a regular basis. She knew his last name was Friend because of a post mixup, she knew it was his birthday, and she knew he sang in the shower. But for all Emma knew he could be the new form of Jack The Ripper inviting her out to kidnap her. But his friendliness made her believe he wasn’t.

As soon as he opened the door there were people around, a mix of his friends and work colleagues waving and introducing herself. She tried to remember names, smiling and shaking hands. Until she met Daniel.

The moment she looked at his curly hair she knew he was something else. He smelled good in the busy room, a beer in his hand and a broad smile on his face. Her brain was yelling that if she walked over to him she wasn’t walking away without something happening. So of course, she grabbed a beer from the bucket on the coffee table and took the empty spot next to him.

That was her first mistake of the night.

The second one was agreeing every single time he asked if she wanted another drink. The one time she considered saying no - happy to be tipsy but not drunk - his big brown puppy eyes made her say yes. That smile and those eyes were two of the three reasons she couldn’t help but flirt with him every chance she got. The third reason she flirted was his warm body was pressed beside her on the couch, their legs touching as they played Cards against humanity and laughed at everyone's awful answers.  

Her third mistake was going with him into the kitchen to get water for everyone, standing beside the window and looking out over the London skyline. She couldn’t help drop a comment about how he looked cute under the moonlight coming in, Dan grinning and then letting out the most perfect laugh as she rambled about how the stars and that night’s blood moon made his dimples look good. He found it hilarious.

She didn’t know that he thought it was adorable how her cheeks turned red every time he complimented her. She was smiling and he told her how cute it was that her nose wrinkled as she smiled, but she just felt her cheeks flush, heating up with embarrassment. But what made everything worse was the way Daniel brushed his thumb over her nose as he said it. It was an innocent touch, like a parent cleaning a child's face, but it went straight to her heart. She took a dangerous step forward wanting to do the same, but not trusting their height difference. Instead she pinched his cheek, dropping a stupid feeling “Shut up, Dimples.”

She wasn’t going to sleep with him. She wasn’t. Emma wanted to, but she couldn’t. They’d met three hours before and he was clearly close to Blake and she wasn’t going to ruin the one good friendship she’d made in her adulthood. Even if they were taking it any further, the spell between them was broken with a shout.

“Ems! Danny! What are you doing in there?” They came back in with the drinks, Emma raising an eyebrow at Blake.

“Ems?”

“We’re Aussies, everything gets a nickname. Is it ok?” It might have been the alcohol speaking, but she’d never had someone decide to just give her a nickname. It felt more like her than Emma ever had.

“It’s good.”

She had to leave before whatever had happened between her and Daniel started again. He knew he was good looking, she knew there was flirting, but the best thing was to shut it down then and there. She said her goodbyes and hugged Blake, shrugging off his question about why she was leaving so early.

“I’m meeting friends for brunch tomorrow, if I’m having mimosas then I don’t want to drink more tonight. It was fun, invite me next time you’re home for more than a few days.”  

She waved goodbye and closed the door, putting earplugs into sleep because every time she closed her eyes she thought she could hear Daniel’s voice through the thin walls.

When she got up the next morning her head was clear, but she cursed herself for not asking for Daniel’s number. The chances of seeing him again considering Blake’s work schedule were basically non existent, and she chalked it up to a night of fun and flirting. Daniel, however, had different ideas.

A scrap of paper shoved under her front door had a phone number and messy handwriting that said “Text me anytime, Wrinkles”. Until last night there was nobody in the world who had a nickname for her, now she had two. Daniel was the only one who would call her Wrinkles, nobody else had overheard that conversation when she was fighting herself not to kiss him. It took her more than a couple of minutes to decide to actually text him.

Wrinkles?

It took a couple of hours for him to text her back, and in the meantime, she cleaned and did a couple of hours of work. But her phone buzzed with a text and Ems wouldn’t admit to anyone how quickly she picked it up to check.

Coz your nose wrinkles!

Sure thing, Dimples.

That’s how their friendship started and sustained through the weeks and months of not seeing each other, Daniel’s job taking him away from the UK for weeks at a time. He spent a lot of time in Europe judging by the random photos he’d send on the weeks that their time difference wasn’t too bad. They texted almost daily, her favorite a picture of a plate of meat sent at 4am. When she asked why the next morning it wasn’t until mid afternoon when she got back “I’m in Austin for work, Wrinkles”.

Other times it was a YouTube or Spotify link to a song he insisted she had to know, and she replied with early 2000s UK and Ireland boyband songs. If he hadn’t sent her anything by the time the early evening rolled around she’d text him a check in to tell him what time it was for her. That always got a response of the sky, a clock on the wall, or one of the intricate watches he wore so she knew roughly how far away their time ones were.

Their conversations were short and sweet and random, so she never asked what exactly he did with Blake. She knew they worked on the Formula one team and travelled, but that was it when it came to work. Even in his personal life she didn’t know a lot. His name was Daniel, he was a year older than her, he was from Perth and he loved music. She knew he was in the UK a few times before Christmas, but work was insane for both of them so they couldn’t get the coffee that they swore they would. She only saw Blake twice, and one of those times was when she opened his front door to drop his post in and he’d just arrived home.

Ems nearly groaned when she got a photo of Daniel in an airport, his boarding pass held up to his face showing he was on his way to Perth for Christmas. The timezone difference was a pain, eight hours meaning his day was half over as hers was beginning. But the snatched messages continued, videos of him on motorbikes or running down the beach that looked like it was out of a film. She’d have lied if she said the photo of him holding his baby nephew didn’t make her ‘aww’ out loud. She couldn’t help but grin every single time he sent her a selfie of himself, relaxed and tanned and happy. Even if he’d been clearly working out just before taking many of them.

In response she sent him photos of her far paler face curled up on the couch, or when she went into the hot desks she worked from when she needed away from her tiny flat. He sent her photos of Christmas trees out of place in the warm sun, and in return he got Oxford Street lights lit up. On her last day in Liverpool for the actual holiday she sent him a photo of her sad face and rain wet hair, hoping for a kind word.

Instead she got a gorgeous sunset over the beach, the kind of photo that she only thought existed in photoshop. But it wasn’t the photo that got her, it was the four words and two letters at the bottom. ‘Wish you were here xx’. As soon as she read it she’d typed out that she wished she was too, sending it before she could regret it.

As soon as she got back to London and away from family she opened a bottle of wine, pouring heavily until the bottle was nearly empty. Drinking too much wasn’t her usual coping mechanism – that was blasting Taylor Swift - but she needed to quiet the butterflies in her stomach at his text.

She couldn’t fall for a guy she barely knew. She couldn’t fall for a guy who was constantly travelling around the world. Ems wouldn’t let herself get into that mess, pining for someone who she’d never see. She knew better, she knew that she’d be fine on her own. They could be friends and that would be it. She and Blake had started becoming Good Friends, she and Daniel could do the same. Plus, a guy like him would always have some girl wanting to be on his arm. It was alright. It had to be alright.

She’d convinced herself that it really would be alright, but then what Blake called winter break was over and he was back with a Christmas present for her as a thanks for getting his post and keeping his spider plant alive. As he was turning away from her front door he stopped, and she suddenly knew what he was about to say

“There’s a group of us going out on Saturday, are you coming? It’s mostly everyone who was at my birthday, some of the guys from work.” She was all prepared to say no when he pulled out his final line. “Daniel’s coming too.”

She took a breath, biting her lip as if she was working out if she could make it. But as soon as he invited her she was going to say yes, even if it was just a chance Daniel would be there.

Saying yes to going out was the opposite of a mistake.

Once Ems arrived at the club she realized she had no idea how to handle a full night out around Daniel and his charm offensive. He wasn’t even wearing anything fancy – black skinny jeans, a white shirt, red plaid, and a pair of black vans - but with what she was learning were his ever present rings he looked too good. She thought she could keep herself together until he grinned, holding out his arms and pulling her into a hug.

“Emmy!” The new nickname didn’t make it easy for her to let go instead of wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him close.

“New nickname?” She asked, struggling to be heard over the music even with how close they were holding each other.

“I know Blake’s calling you Ems, but I figured you deserved a proper one from me.”  

He didn’t just look good, he smelled amazing and his hugs were the best she’d ever had. They felt like being home after a long trip, lighting her favorite candle and sitting down with a burger from the greasy spoon around the corner. It was warm and cozy and familiar despite the fact she’d never had one from him before. It felt so damn good that it nearly hurt to let him go.

Emmy was so focused on hiding the electricity she felt from his hand on her hip as they walked through the club that she didn’t realize they’d been brought to the VIP area. It wasn’t the kind of place she’d usually go, a pub with a couple of drinks was her usual thing instead of loud music. But she smiled and nodded, glad that the thumping beat was quieter in there as they got drinks. But then Daniel and his friend were talking about how this was the last heavy night until the summer break apart from wins, that full season boot camp was starting Monday.

She knew she looked utterly clueless but focused on her drink until the other Australian who’d been talking to Daniel caught her attention.

“Everything ok? I’m Michael, we didn’t talk much at Blake’s birthday.”

“Em. Yeah, fine, just not sure what you and Daniel were talking about.”

“Just his race preparedness, making sure he’s fit enough for the g forces and the laps in Melbourne. Can’t have an issue in his home race!”

“Race?”

The group went silent as they realized that Em had no idea about Daniel’s actual job, and it was quickly explained that he didn’t just work with Blake. He drove the car for the Formula one team.  

“You know you’ll have to tell me the full story?” She asked Daniel as he gave her the very broad strokes, and he grinned back at her.

“Not tonight, but soon Wrinkles. Pinkie promise?”

“Promise.”

They exchanged the promise with their pinkies locked and a wry smile before Dan pulled her up to go to the bar for a drink. Which turned into another. And another. And another. Which then turned into looking at each other and Daniel trying to pull her onto the dance floor.

“I’ll dance with you, but that’s all that’s happening Dimples.”

They moved together, their own little bubble away from everyone else dancing. Daniel was careful not to touch her until she let him, his hands going to her waist and barely moving from there. They went to the curve of her hips, but after that they stayed still as they swayed out of time to the song. She wanted to get him to move them further, grab her ass and make it clear she wasn’t going home with anyone else. But even while she was tipsy as hell she found the strength not to jump into his arms, not to reach her head up and push a kiss to his lips like she wanted to. Even though he was the funniest and most charming man she’d ever met, who made her smile even during the week she hated every year. But she kept it together as they left the dance floor for another drink before going back to their friends.

Blake was her excuse to leave, her chance to run out and not drag Daniel home with her. It was clear they both wanted it, but it was a Bad Idea. Instead they hugged goodbye, Blake getting in the taxi and insisting on paying the fare when they got in. She said goodbye to him with a hug before collapsing into her own bed, alone.

What she did do was send him a text in the morning. As soon as she had the ability to open her eyes back she grabbed her phone and turned the brightness down to the lowest it would go. Once she could semi focus her text thread with Daniel came up, and she dictated it as voice to text instead of trying to tap on the screen.

Damn you and your fancy drinks, Dimples.

He hadn’t let her pay for a single round of drinks, as much as she tried to. Instead he batted away her hand with cash and held out his card, telling her it was fine. She was positive he wouldn’t answer considering she and Blake had been the first two to leave, but ten minutes later her phone buzzed again. Ems ignored it, but the third buzz meant she didn’t and made herself concentrate on the texts with Dimples. The pain eased as she saw the three messages, telling her to open her front door. Then seriously. Open it now.

She wasn’t fully sure how she managed to make it to her door, pulling an oversized hoodie around her for warmth on the cold January morning. But when she looked out her peephole the hallway was empty.

It was stupid to imagine Daniel would be there. She felt ridiculous for thinking he’d be standing there, even though he told her to open her door. But because he told her to, she decided to follow his instructions and pulled it open to find a brown paper bag from her favorite bakery sitting there.

It was mid-November and he’d been in Brazil when they’d been sharing hangover remedies and she’d told him about the lemon drizzle cake and Chelsea buns from a bakery near her flat that always made her feel better when she’d drank too much. Too many baked goods and a caramel latte from the overpriced hipster place next door always helped make her feel human. She’d told him as a recommendation, somewhere to keep in mind the next time he was in London. Daniel had told her he would, but she had to promise to try his favorite bakery in Perth that somehow managed to make the cheesiest focaccia he’d eaten in his life.

That was more than two months ago, and they hadn’t mentioned anything about it since. The last thing she’d expected was to open the door and find a bag with still warm baked goods in it. Two pieces of lemon drizzle cake, two Chelsea buns, and three chocolate chip cookies that were warm and gooey as she ripped a bite from one. There was a perfectly made caramel latte in a takeout cup, and at the bottom of the bag was a box of painkillers. There was nearly everything she could have asked for right there, and she texted him a slightly embarrassing selfie of her grinning face and the cookie she’d taken a hunk out of already.

The only thing he hadn’t brought was something to stop her falling head over heels for him. But if Emmy was being true to herself, she knew it was already too late to stop it.

[mikuchan]

Just dropping in to say I love your post about misogyny in the bg3 fandom, it's crazy to me the excuses people come up with to try and absolve themselves when it's clearly just another case of misogyny. If we were to remove all m/f pairings, m/m (11161) is still more popular than f/f (3293 works.) Even among just the origin characters (no tav/durge/oc/reader) m/m outnumbers f/f. There's no excuse for that. It's absolutely criminal to me how little fanfiction Minthara has despite her 1) status as a main companion 2) having direct DND lore ties 3) being well written and nuanced 4) phenomenal voice acting done by Emma Gregory. And it's not an excuse of her being "too evil" considering Gortash, Raphael, and Cazador's popularity. It's just misogyny. Sorry for the rant in your inbox but as a lesbian it's just so tiring to see the same old excuses again and again no matter the fandom. And that's not touching on the amount of racism in this fandom, which is another essay for another day.

all excellent points!!

[ttkinnie]

Twisted timelines - a Tokyo Revengers roleplay server

Hello everyone! I'm making another post in case more people want to join us, so if you ever thought about doing some roleplay in the Tokyo Revengers universe, this is for you.

We have two independent timelines, and you can choose three characters for each one. That makes six characters in total, but no obligation to reach the maximum.

Bad Toman Timeline: Kisaki's plan has been unveiled. After the assassination attempt on Emma's life, Draken took revenge on her attackers, and was sent to prison. Kisaki pretended to help him get out of jail, paying the lawyers, but Mikey found out through a recording made by Sanzu.

As a result, Mikey threw Kisaki out of Toman. He is now trying to repair the damage the gang has suffered at Kisaki's hands, while defending from the other gangs challenging his authority. On the other side, Kisaki is planning his revenge.

Available characters: Emma, Kazutora, Mocchi, Mucho, Wakasa, Benkei, Takeomi, Peh-yan and Pah-chin, the Kawata twins and the Mizo Middle Five outside of Takemichi.

Future Timeline: Takemichi and Mikey went back to the past and tried their best to keep everyone alive. But alive doesn't mean happy. It's 2017 now, and in six months Takemichi and Hinata are getting married, but life hasn't been kind to the people he tried to save.

In the end, despite Mikey and Takemichi's efforts, everyone in the final timeline is unhappy in some way. It's up to the roleplayer to pick which character flaw or issue they want them to have.

Available characters: Yuzuha, Hakkai, Kakucho, Inui, Mocchi, Emma, the Mizo Middle five outside of Takemichi, Senju, Benkei, Wakasa, Takeomi, South, the Kawata twins, Mucho, Pah-chin and Peh-yan.

Some general rules we have:

Be respectful: no spamming, no insults, no godmodding, no pressuring people for replies. We all love roleplaying but don't forget we have a life outside the internet

Stay active, we ask for at least one interaction per week. Of course that limit is theoretical, we won't throw anyone out if life gets in the way or they want to take a hiatus!

No one-liners, except for chat groups or the crack roleplay

We do not allow OCs in our roleplay, but we of course include potential npcs.

Try to come up with unexpected plots, let your characters go wild!

Fair warning: the server is 18+ only and contains dead dove content. Trigger warnings are to be respected, and no one has to interact with subjects they don't want to.

Leave a like if you're interested and I'll get back to you!

[animalsalvationassociation]

Hey Octonauts community! I need your help! 😘

So apparently I’ve gotten myself sick again, shocker, I know. So with the energy I have I’d like to know what you guys want me to post on the blog this week. I have some things lined up but I’ve been stuck trying to figure out what my, albeit lower, energy levels should go into.

Here’s some options, and please keep in mind depending on which one we pick also decides when it comes out. So it may not end up being posted on our usual Tuesdays.

(Keep in mind, everyone will have a chance to vote. If we don’t have enough people on the poll before it ends I’ll repost it)

[shiorihyuga]

A Soft Place

In a post-Rumbling world, where the threat of Titans no longer looms, Vanessa Sinclair finds herself living a quiet life, working at her family’s bakery in Wall Rose. Curvy and self-conscious, Vanessa has always faded into the background, overshadowed by her more outgoing friends. But everything changes when Captain Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest Soldier, begins visiting the bakery regularly. What starts as a simple exchange of tea and pastries quickly evolves into something more. Levi, drawn to her quiet strength and beauty, takes Vanessa on a journey that forces her to confront her insecurities, while learning that sometimes, what lies beneath the surface is more than enough. {Levi x Plus Sized OC}

Chapter Twenty Six

The next few days were nothing short of covert operations for Robin and Emma. Armed with their newfound mission from Levi, they were determined to find out Vanessa’s ring size without tipping her off. However, the challenge was greater than they initially thought. Vanessa wasn’t someone who wore a lot of rings, which made getting her size a bit tricky. But that didn’t deter Robin and Emma. In fact, it only made them more creative.

One morning, as they prepped the bakery for another busy day, Robin shot a glance at Vanessa, who was kneading dough at the counter, completely unaware of the scheming going on behind her. Emma gave Robin a small nod, silently signaling that now was as good a time as any to put their plan into motion.

“So, Ness,” Robin began casually, her voice light and breezy as she wiped her hands on her apron. “We’ve been talking... and Emma and I were thinking about getting friendship rings.”

Vanessa, who was focused on shaping a loaf of bread, looked up, eyebrows raised. “Friendship rings? Isn’t that a little... I don’t know, high school?”

Emma immediately jumped in, playing her role perfectly. “Oh, come on! It’s cute. We can get matching gold bands, or maybe something with a small charm. Plus, you know, we’ve been best friends for so long. I think it’d be nice.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes slightly, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Friendship rings, huh? You two sure you’re not secretly dating?”

Robin let out a laugh, her tone playful. “As much as I love Emma, I think we’d kill each other if we were a couple.”

Emma shot Robin a mock glare. “Rude. But anyway, I thought we could get something simple, like those gold bands that are trendy right now. What’s your ring size, Ness? We can all get matching ones.”

Vanessa blinked, a little taken aback by the sudden question. “My ring size?” She paused, her brow furrowing. “I don’t really know. I don’t wear rings that often.”

Robin pretended to act casual, though inside she was holding her breath. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You don’t wear them much. But come on, Ness! We’ll go to the jeweler and find out. It’s no big deal, really.”

Vanessa looked between them, suspicion starting to flicker in her hazel eyes. “This seems awfully random,” she said slowly, eyeing them both. “You’re acting like this is just a casual thing, but...”

Emma leaned in, feigning innocence. “What? What do you mean? It is casual. Just thought it’d be cute, that’s all. No ulterior motives here, Ness.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes further, her senses clearly tingling. “I don’t know. You two have been acting a little weird lately.”

“Weird?” Robin echoed, laughing nervously. “We’re just being normal! Come on, Ness. You know us. We’re just trying to be thoughtful.”

Vanessa folded her arms, looking more skeptical by the second. “Thoughtful about rings?”

Emma let out a long, exaggerated sigh and placed a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder. “Okay, okay. Maybe we’ve been a little excited, but honestly, it’s nothing major. You’re just so hard to shop for sometimes. We thought a ring would be something you’d actually keep, you know?”

Vanessa softened slightly at that, though her suspicion hadn’t completely dissipated. “I guess I’ve just been busy with work and all... It’s kind of hard to wrap my head around the idea of friendship rings. But... alright, fine. If it makes you happy, we can go check out the jeweler later.”

Robin and Emma exchanged a quick, victorious glance before turning back to Vanessa with bright smiles. “Great!” Robin said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. “We’ll go after work, then. And you can find out your ring size while we’re there.”

Vanessa squinted at them again, her mouth pulling into a half-smile. “You two are definitely up to something. But fine, we’ll do it your way.”

…

Later that day, as promised, Robin, Emma, and Vanessa found themselves in the local jewelry shop. Vanessa couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was going on, but for now, she played along, watching as Robin and Emma excitedly pointed out various rings and discussed different styles.

As they reached the counter, the jeweler—a kindly older man who clearly remembered Levi’s visit—greeted them warmly. “Good afternoon, ladies. How can I assist you today?”

Robin grinned widely. “We’d like to see some simple gold bands, maybe something with a small design. Oh, and our friend here needs her ring size measured.”

The jeweler nodded, motioning to Vanessa. “Of course. Step right up, miss, and I’ll measure your finger.”

Vanessa hesitated for a moment but eventually extended her hand. “This is all so weird,” she muttered, giving Robin and Emma a side-eye. “But okay.”

The jeweler carefully measured Vanessa’s ring size, noting it down before showing them a selection of bands. Vanessa barely paid attention to the rings; she was still watching Robin and Emma, trying to figure out their angle.

“Size seven,” the jeweler said finally, marking it down on a small card before handing it to Vanessa. “There you go, miss.”

“Thank you,” Vanessa said politely, tucking the card into her pocket. She turned to her friends, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, so you’ve got my size. Now what?”

Robin beamed, casually brushing off the suspicion in Vanessa’s voice. “Now we know, and we can surprise you later! That’s all, really.”

Vanessa studied them both, still feeling like she was missing something. But before she could press any further, Emma grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the display case, pointing out more rings.

"Look, Ness! These butterfly ones are cute!" Emma said, her voice almost too cheerful.

Vanessa let out a sigh, shaking her head. “You guys are ridiculous.” But despite her skepticism, she couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

…

Later that evening, after they’d returned from the jeweler, Vanessa couldn’t help but reflect on the strange day. She still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off, but Robin and Emma were good at deflecting her questions. For now, she let it go, assuming it was just one of their usual antics.

Meanwhile, back at Levi’s apartment, the scout captain was deep in thought. He knew Robin and Emma had succeeded in getting Vanessa’s ring size, and now he was mentally preparing himself for the next step—returning to the jeweler to secure the perfect ring.

Everything was falling into place, but as he sat in his quiet living room, Levi felt a familiar tension return. Proposing to Vanessa wasn’t a battle or a mission, but the stakes had never felt higher.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath. He’d wait for the right moment. He’d make sure everything was perfect for her.

…

The next morning, Levi made his usual visit to the bakery. It had become routine for him—stopping by early to see Vanessa before the crowds picked up. Today, however, there was something slightly different in the air. As he walked toward The Sweet House, he carried a bouquet of fresh flowers for Vanessa, just like he always did. But today, his mind was preoccupied with more than just seeing her smile.

He stepped through the door, the familiar smell of freshly baked bread greeting him. The soft chime of the bell above the door announced his arrival, and immediately, he spotted Vanessa behind the counter, chatting with Robin and Emma as they organized the morning display. She caught his eye almost instantly, her face lighting up when she saw him, though there was a hint of suspicion in her gaze.

Levi walked over, setting the bouquet of flowers on the counter in front of Vanessa. She smiled up at him, but her brow was slightly furrowed. "Good morning, Captain," she greeted, her tone warm but tinged with curiosity. "These are beautiful, thank you."

He gave her a small nod, watching as she leaned in to smell the flowers. "Good morning," he replied, his voice as calm as ever, though inside, he was aware that something felt slightly off. Vanessa was sharp—she’d probably been picking up on the subtle changes in the air over the last few days. He needed to be careful.

As they exchanged a few words, Levi’s sharp eyes caught movement behind Vanessa—Robin and Emma. They were huddled together by the corner of the counter, whispering to each other in what they must have thought was a subtle manner. But to anyone paying attention, it was clear they were up to something.

Vanessa’s gaze flickered between them and Levi, narrowing slightly. "Okay," she said slowly, "what’s going on? You three have been acting... off lately."

Levi’s response was a stoic shrug. "Nothing’s going on."

But Vanessa didn’t look convinced. She turned her attention to Robin and Emma, who had suddenly gone quiet. "Really? You two have been weird since yesterday."

Robin plastered on her most innocent smile, though her eyes darted toward Levi for a split second. "Weird? No way. We’re just... talking about the new pastries we’re planning."

"Yep," Emma chimed in, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "You know how we are. Always scheming about new recipes and stuff."

Vanessa raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Right. Sure."

Levi stood there quietly, observing the interaction. He knew Vanessa was perceptive, and the last thing he wanted was for her to figure out what was going on. Robin and Emma, however, weren’t making it easy—they were terrible at playing it cool.

As Vanessa turned to grab some cups for the tea she was making, Robin seized the opportunity. She nudged Emma, who gave a slight nod, and then, with a quick glance at Vanessa’s back, Robin slid a small piece of paper across the counter toward Levi.

Levi caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and, without breaking his calm exterior, subtly picked up the paper and slid it into his coat pocket.

"Thanks," he muttered under his breath, barely moving his lips as he did so.

Robin gave him a quick thumbs-up, while Emma did her best to look nonchalant, though she was clearly on edge, afraid they might get caught.

Vanessa turned back around just in time to see Emma and Robin acting strangely again. She let out a sigh, crossing her arms. "Okay, seriously. What’s going on? You’re all being suspicious, and I can tell something’s up."

Robin, always quick on her feet, laughed nervously. "Suspicious? Ness, you’re imagining things. We’re just... you know... trying not to mess up in front of Captain Levi. No pressure or anything!"

Emma nodded vigorously, playing along. "Exactly! You know how intimidating he can be. We’re just trying to keep it together."

Vanessa squinted at them, her instincts telling her that something more was at play, but she couldn’t quite figure out what. "Mmmhmm," she murmured, glancing at Levi. "Are you sure nothing weird is going on, Captain?"

Levi met her gaze, his expression perfectly blank, though there was a small flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I’m sure," he replied calmly.

Vanessa looked between the three of them again, but eventually, she let it go—though the suspicion was still there. She turned back to the flowers, plucking a single bloom from the bouquet and twirling it in her fingers. "Alright," she said with a soft sigh, "I guess I’ll just take your word for it... for now."

Robin and Emma exchanged relieved glances, clearly grateful that they hadn’t been caught. They quickly busied themselves with arranging pastries, doing their best to act normal, while Levi stayed near the counter, his eyes flickering toward Vanessa as she worked.

He felt the small piece of paper tucked safely in his pocket, Vanessa’s ring size written down in neat handwriting. Phase two of his plan was complete.

Now, it was only a matter of time.

…

Later, after Vanessa had stepped into the back room to prepare more dough, Levi stood by the counter, his arms crossed as he waited for her to return. Robin and Emma sidled over, eager to check in.

"Did you get it?" Robin whispered, her eyes wide with excitement.

Levi gave a curt nod. "Got it."

Emma exhaled in relief. "Good. I thought we were done for when she started asking questions. She’s way too sharp for her own good."

Robin grinned, clearly pleased with their success. "Now you can go ahead and get the ring. She’ll never know."

Levi shot them both a quick glance. "She almost figured it out."

Emma shrugged. "Well, almost isn’t figuring it out, right? You’re still in the clear."

Robin nodded in agreement, then added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "So, when’s the big moment? Have you figured out how you’re going to propose yet?"

Levi didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting toward the back door where Vanessa had disappeared. "I’m working on it."

Robin leaned in, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "Whatever you do, Captain, just make it special. She deserves that."

Levi’s gaze softened slightly, though he didn’t show it on his face. "I know."

Emma clasped her hands together, beaming at him. "It’s going to be amazing. We’re so excited for her. You’re going to make her so happy!."

Levi gave them both a small nod, his mind already shifting toward the next steps in his plan. He had the ring size now, and soon, he would have the perfect ring for Vanessa.

But for now, he had to keep playing it cool. Vanessa was too smart to be fooled for long, and Levi knew that the element of surprise was something he had to protect carefully.

"Just keep quiet about it," Levi warned, his tone flat but firm.

Robin and Emma saluted him playfully. "Mum’s the word, Captain!"

As Vanessa returned from the back room, none the wiser, Levi straightened up, already planning his next move. Everything was falling into place, and with each passing day, the moment he would propose to her came closer.

All that was left was to make sure she never saw it coming.

He stood by the bakery counter, watching as Vanessa gently arranged fresh croissants in the display case. The morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow on her hair, making her look even more radiant. His heart felt full just watching her work—something so simple yet so peaceful. She had no idea what he was up to, which made his quiet, deliberate movements all the more satisfying.

Vanessa glanced up from her work, her eyes meeting his with a warm smile. She had noticed how distracted he seemed today, more than usual. Before she could ask what was on his mind, Levi stepped closer and, in a rare show of public affection, leaned in to press a swift kiss on her forehead.

Vanessa blinked in surprise, her cheeks instantly flushing pink. "Where are you off to this early?" she asked, slightly teasing but curious. "You don’t usually leave this soon."

Levi’s lips twitched into a barely noticeable smirk as he straightened. "I’ve got a meeting with the scouts. Don’t wait up."

Vanessa eyed him for a moment, still suspicious but too flustered by the kiss to ask more questions. "Alright, Captain," she said, soft and amused, but a touch of curiosity lingered in her tone. She went back to her task, glancing up at him once more as he left the bakery.

Levi turned on his heel and exited the shop, the cool morning air greeting him as he stepped outside. His heart was steady, but a flicker of nervous energy danced in his chest. He wasn’t headed for HQ—not today. Today, his destination was more personal.

…

As Levi approached the jeweler’s shop, the bell above the door jingled softly, just as it had the last time. The same elderly jeweler was behind the counter, adjusting a pair of delicate spectacles perched on his nose as he worked on some intricate piece of jewelry.

The old man looked up as Levi entered, and a knowing smile crossed his face. "Captain Levi," he greeted warmly. "Back so soon?"

Levi stepped forward, slipping his hands into his coat pockets as he approached the glass counter. "I’ve got the ring size," he said, his voice steady. "Seven."

The jeweler’s smile widened. He could tell from Levi’s serious demeanor that this wasn’t just another purchase. This was something far more important. "A size seven, hmm?" he mused, pulling out a notepad to jot down the information. "You’ve clearly been planning this carefully."

Levi nodded, his eyes briefly scanning the rings displayed beneath the glass, but he already knew what he wanted. "I want a gold band," he began, his voice low but sure. "Something simple but beautiful. It needs to hold up. Vanessa works with her hands a lot, so nothing that’ll get in her way."

The jeweler nodded thoughtfully. "Of course. Practical but elegant. You want something she can wear every day without worrying about it."

Levi gave a small nod. "Exactly."

The jeweler motioned for Levi to follow him to a different section of the display. "Let’s look at some stones, shall we? You said simple, but we can still make it beautiful without it being too flashy."

Levi followed, his sharp eyes taking in the options the jeweler presented. Stones of various cuts and sizes lay before him, but he wasn’t looking for something extravagant. He wanted something meaningful—something that reflected Vanessa’s quiet grace and strength. After a moment, Levi’s gaze settled on a modest but stunning oval-cut diamond. It wasn’t large, but it had a brilliant clarity that made it seem to glow in the light.

"This one," Levi said, pointing at the stone. "It’s perfect."

The jeweler smiled as he gently picked up the stone. "Excellent choice, Captain. The oval cut is classic but understated, much like the woman you’re marrying, I presume."

Levi’s lips quirked slightly. "Something like that."

As the jeweler set the diamond aside for the setting, Levi continued, "I want butterflies engraved on the sides of the band."

"Butterflies?" the jeweler echoed, intrigued. "Ah, a meaningful detail. I’ll have to sketch a few designs for you to choose from, but that can certainly be done."

Levi nodded, and after a brief pause, he added one more detail. "I also want something engraved on the inside of the band. 'More than enough.'"

The jeweler looked up, his eyes softening as he took in Levi’s request. "More than enough," he repeated quietly, clearly moved by the sentiment. He could see now just how much thought had gone into this ring—how much love and care had been poured into every aspect of the design. "You truly love her, don’t you?"

Levi’s gaze remained steady, but there was a flicker of warmth behind his steel-gray eyes. "I do."

The jeweler gave a nod of approval. "I’ll make sure this ring is perfect, Captain. But it will take about three weeks to craft it with all the details you’ve requested."

"That’s fine," Levi replied, already thinking ahead to the proposal. "It gives me time to plan."

The jeweler jotted down the final notes on his pad before setting it aside. "I have to say, it’s refreshing to see a man so dedicated to making sure everything is just right for the woman he loves," he said with a smile. "When the ring is ready, I’ll send word."

Levi gave a curt nod of thanks, already feeling the weight of anticipation settle into his chest. This was the next step. Everything was falling into place.

"Appreciate it," Levi said, turning to leave the shop.

As the door chimed again and Levi stepped back into the bustling streets, he slipped his hands into his coat pockets, feeling the cool metal of the ring design paper against his fingertips. Three weeks wasn’t long, but it was enough time for him to prepare.

And prepare he would.

…

Back at the bakery, Vanessa couldn’t help but feel a little curious about why Levi had left so early. It wasn’t like him to rush off, especially when there wasn’t a pressing mission. She stood at the counter, her mind wandering as she absentmindedly kneaded dough, lost in thought.

Robin, who had been helping Vanessa prepare for the afternoon rush, leaned over and nudged her playfully. "You’re distracted," she teased. "Thinking about Captain Levi, huh?"

Vanessa rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "He’s been acting a little weird lately, don’t you think? Leaving early, being... extra."

Emma, who was setting up the display case, chimed in, trying to keep her tone casual. "Weird? Nah. He’s probably just got scout stuff to handle. You know how serious he gets about his work."

Vanessa narrowed her eyes slightly, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. "Maybe... but I don’t know. He seemed a little... preoccupied today."

Robin and Emma exchanged a brief glance, though they were careful to keep their expressions neutral. The last thing they needed was for Vanessa to catch on to what was really happening.

"Captain Levi’s always preoccupied," Robin said with a shrug. "It’s probably nothing."

Vanessa hummed thoughtfully but didn’t press further. She trusted Levi, but something in her gut told her that something was brewing—something she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Meanwhile, Levi made his way back to HQ, the ring order secure, and his plan slowly but surely falling into place.

In three weeks, everything would change. And Levi was ready.

~

Masterlist

Note: I am three chapters ahead on Patreon :)

Join my Taglist:

Tags: @dreamingofaday @xngelsau @ackermansbest @anything4yoongi @blmcd57110

[the-ironman]

Hello, Tumblr.

It's @the-superoriginal here.

So, here's a Tony Stark rp blog (I know that they are quite a lot, but I don't care.)

Timeline? MCU post-Endgame. It's that expect Tony is obviously not dead, because Captain Marvel snapped with the Infinity Stones instead of him.

NSFW is not appreciated, which could change over time through, but when that is the case I write it down here. Currently it's just making me cringe knowing there's another person on the other end.

Violence is okay on the other hand. It can be detailed too. Just write it at best on the top then and make a cut under it. Don't want to accidentally traumatise minors, do we? Example: TW: Heavy gore

Current status of this blog is: Connections to other rp blogs. So, please don't write any other marvel rp blog 'Do you know this one?' or something like that. They most likely don't. Again, I write it down here if that changes.

@god-of-thunder-mcu (Thor (me))

@serenastank-official (daughter)

@emma-hope-stark (daughter)

@lilypad-stark (daughter)

@supernovastark (daughter)

@morganstark-official (daughter)

@spideyboiiiiiii (adopted son)

@peterparker-who (adopted son)

@pepperpotts-official (wife)

I would like it if we would write in interactions third person and detailed. Like the chapter of a book. So, I know how it is meaned and get more material to work with. If we write out of character then please like this: ((ooc:))

That said... If you want to interact with Tony as a OC, like having a backstory with him, then please write me in private first so we can talk about the details or write the infos into the tags/post. 'Cause I, Tony, will act as if we don't know each other. I just can't/won't search for God knows for long for infos about your character/blog.

While I am not a part of the LGBTQ+ community, I want this blog to be welcome for everyone so please don't write homophobic, racism things and etc. here! We don't need to make live worse for others, alright?

PS: If you want to know what my other rp blogs are, just check out the pinned post of @the-superoriginal (main blog). It's written down there.

[ikeprinces-stuff]

My first time joining WIP Wednesday... And already finished the first chap of Emma x prince OC fic, I'm still a bit nervous about posting so here's a tiny part which is happen to be my favourite:

He smiled comfortingly, seemingly relieved that I had gotten over the matter. Even though the smile's expression was faint, I found it reassuring. I couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity about this man who seemed to appear out of thin air. But for now, I was just grateful that he had helped me in my moment of need.

"I presume you're Prince Vernard..." I stammered, my voice betraying my nerves.

He looked at me, his expression inscrutable. "Mürrisch," he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. "The one and only."

His response caught me off guard. I had been so sure that his name was Vernard, yet here he was, introducing himself as Mürrisch. My mind raced as I tried to reconcile this new information with what I already knew.

[sassyandclassy94]

10 Questions for 10 Writers

Thank you SO much for the tag, @coneygoil !! You have no idea how much I love being included in these things🫶🏻

1. Is writing a hobby or a way of life?

Sadly, it’s just a hobby. My life’s kinda too busy to make it a lifestyle

2. A journal full of notes, or a clean completed manuscript?

A clean completed manuscript, thank you very much. Which is pretty ironic, given I’m a pretty chaotic woman.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

SwanFire and ThePhoenixFeatherQuill. I went through a Once Upon a Time phase became a huge SwanFire shipper after my first rewatch and one night while I was lying in bed, I looked up SwanFire fanfics. The Phoenix’s masterlist was like, the first or second search result? So I clicked on it when lo and behold! The Spinner’s Son captured my interest. I clicked on it and fell in love. I looked for other medieval AUs but couldn’t find any so naturally, after seeing posts about writing what you went to read, I decided to try my own hand at writing one.

4. Which is worse: Someone you ‘idolize’ reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Well… I’m not a singer (I sing WITH people sometimes) so, definitely having someone I look up to read my first draft. I remember when Red (an awesome writer who I also look up to and tumblr friend - check out his Into the Woods, it’s amazing!!) told me he checked out Secrets, Lies and Blessings after we met and started interacting during covid. I was mortified and wanted to crawl into a hole.

5. Has writing from someone else’s POV changed your perspective?

Um, maybe….? I delved into OC stuff this year and wrote a fic about Gale Cleven. Two people with totally different personalities and characterization than Baelfire and Emma so, I guess yes? Maybe it didn’t change my perspective but it’s helped me grow as a writer maybe? I don’t know, maybe I don’t understand this question…?

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3 and FFN by far!! They’re my favorites and go-tos. I started out on those babies! I think FFN is slowly dying though😔

7. AO3 word count? And are you satisfied with it?

105,744 - No, I wish it was higher. If it was it’d mean I’m more prolific.

8. What movie/book gripped you irrevocably?

Once Upon a Time started my writing hobby. I needed Neal to be happy and I was gonna write that, darn it! But with running out of ideas, writing SwanFire for 6 years straight, and going through a kind of heartbreak, I got really burnt out and kinda stopped for a while. It was The Boys in the Boat and Masters of the Air that inspired me to start writing again❤️ Don and Gale, man! They have a hold on me!!

9. What’s the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

That my writing is better than I give it credit for. And yes, Red told me that four years ago. He said it more articulate than that though (former English teacher and all, lol!) and him saying that made me feel a little more confident in my writing. I’ve gotten some pretty nice compliments about keeping my characters’ personalities true to canon and that’s pretty high praise too because I go real out of my way to do that.

10. What defines your writing style?

I… don’t even know? Even though most of my stories are romance, there’s also a heavy emphasis on friendship because a good old fashioned friendship is important to me (e.g. Emma and Eleanor). Theyre also very emotional. Whether it’s someone falling in love, preparing for parenthood, or suffering from PTSD, I want my readers to feel what he/she is going through and to be able to relate to them on a personal and intimate level.

Tags: Not me racking my brain to think of all the writers who follow and/or engage with me, and/or are in my notes🤕 @phoenixwrites @ljf613 @solo-pitstop-vibes @okieedokes @swanfireprincessmydear @fictional-at-heart @redbone135 @heatherfield @strangethings-everywhere @plasmabluefire @themeepyfreak And whatever other writer sees this and wants to participate, please consider yourself tagged! You can even say I tagged you. I want you all, especially new writers, to be included🫶🏻 No cliques in SassyAndClassy’s house!!! Oh my gosh is that ten??? DID I DO IT???? We won’t talk about how long that took me to come up with all of you🥴 I hope none of you will be annoyed that I tagged you🫣