#ARE THERE ANY TAGS LEFT BRUH

[musings-of-miss-j]

the magician and the sparrow

a lyney x reader fic

notes: fluff fluff soooo much fluff, lots of plot too though and a sprinkle of angst to taste, set in the canon genshin universe but follows a fictional turn of events, they/them pronouns used for reader but they do wear makeup/skirts

author's notes: this was so much fun to write i fear also please don't hate the closing scene guys i'm so bad at romance

word count: 7045 bc i am simply incapable of anything less

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘

You and the other members of the wandering troupe were always awake at the crack of dawn, when the watery sunlight spilled over the edge of the horizon and dappled every surface with a splash of muted gold, when the earliest and most ambitious of birds let loose their melodic cries. Similarly ambitious and hardworking, the troupe’s grandmaster and magician extraordinaire Lyney personally barged into every compartment on the train to make sure the entire crew was ready for the ridiculously early rehearsal he’d insisted on carrying out. You were less than thrilled with the prospect; normally the troupe’s mornings consisted of checking on props and skimming lines over cups of coffee, while a full-on rehearsal brought about a set of much more trying procedures. Like putting on the finicky, elaborate costumes and doing bloody stage makeup.

You stifled a yawn as you threaded your corset with red ribbons, tailored to match the troupe’s current colour scheme of reds, teals and blacks, your fingers constantly missing the grommets and making you considerably frustrated. With a curse, you dropped the corset and ribbons and muttered a simple spell under your breath so it would lace itself up while you struggled with the sheer black tights you wore beneath your skirt. Really, it was a miracle none of the troupe members had killed Lyney for enforcing such senseless appointments, and you were stewing over the inconsiderate nature of his scheduling when he knocked against the doorway of your compartment as you wriggled into the corset and tightened the lacings. You shot him a withering glare through your ancient, gilded mirror while you applied a swipe of lipstain. He grinned back.

Lyney and Lynette had started the wandering troupe, now known throughout the lands as Cirque Extravaganza, when they were only fourteen years old. They were prodigies, plain and simple, and they’d built themselves a considerable reputation and a proper troupe to boot in the past few years. You were one of the oldest members. After running away from the overbearingly aristocratic  Lawrence family in Mondstadt you’d snuck onto their train and bartered with Lyney for passage to Inazuma; one of the rare moments where you appreciated your parents for forcing you to conduct political debates as a child. You were eleven years old on that fateful night when Lyney, only a handful of years your senior, threatened to throw you off the moving train. Now you were, and you quote, ‘an indispensable member of Cirque Extravaganza.’

“Lyney, I hope you’ve been told that you’re an utter ass for this,” you said, pulling on your gloves.

“By the nineteen other people on this train save for my darling sister, who called me a name I’d rather not relay in your presence,” he replied. He never really shrugged off the magician persona, you’d realised; even after a show, the instinct to sweet-talk and smooth over the rough edges of his words with fanciful phrases was always imbedded within him. A stark contrast to your own matter-of-factness; after spending a decade of your life weaving your speech with meaningless niceties you gladly embraced the chance to bluntly speak your mind.

“Your sister is the hero this troupe needs,” you muttered in response, sitting on the floor to lace up your shoes. They were probably your most prized possession after the diamond jewellery you stole from your parents when you ran away; the soles were carefully inscribed with a charm of balance to protect you on the tightrope, one of the first spells you’d ever written, and the laces you’d spun by hand from the finest spider silk that cost you a month’s worth of wages while chanting an invocation of grace that Lynette had taught you.

Well worth their weight in gold.

“Every day you awaken with the intent to wound my heart, it seems,” Lyney mourned. You didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his tone and the twinkling in his eyes; years of travelling and performing together left you as open to each other as books.

With a final tug, you tied the laces of your shoes into place. “Be grateful I only choose to wound it figuratively rather than literally.” You rose to your feet in a fluid motion that came as naturally as breathing, tipping the brim of Lyney’s top hat over his eyes as you walked past. He chuckled under his breath, watching you hop down from the train and scale onto the makeshift tightrope. The little clearing by the train tracks bustled with activity, from stunt performers swallowing swords, contortionists folding themselves into impossibly small boxes, vision holders shaping flames and water and crackles of lightning into beautiful patterns and illusionists practicing their tricks in front of mirrors, making horns grow out of their skull only to retreat moments after and pulling colourful handkerchiefs from their noses.

You stepped onto the tightrope and walked across it a few times to warm up, then began your newest routine while the mechanics of the troupe finalised the model stage. You heard Lyney’s voice calling out advice and instructions, Lynette close behind him tweaking costumes and props and correcting people’s forms as she strode past. They made a fantastic duo, and the Cirque Extravaganza flourished under their guidance. You used to wonder how a pair of fourteen year olds had such a remarkable grasp on magic and leadership, until on the night of Lyney’s eighteenth birthday when he got black-out drunk and revealed that this was part of their ‘training’ to become fully fledged members of the Fatui. You’d stared at him, slightly shocked but mostly worried that he wasn’t meant to reveal this information; to your dismay, he’d kept talking, explaining how their ‘Father’ adopted them before leaving them to fend for themselves once more to prove themselves worthy. He’d grabbed the ruffled sleeve of your old costume and pouted when you’d tried to leave before he could divulge anything more, and you found yourself powerless to resist his drunken pleas. You learned more than you’d wanted that night.

Now, a few years later, you sprinted across the tightrope with the troupe’s yelling and pacing back and forth stretched out below you. You heard Lyney release an ear-piercing whistle, and a flock of snow-white doves emerged from the trees, flapping their wings and chirping back at him. You paused mid-motion to watch them, frozen on the tightrope and eyes glazed with wonder; no matter how many times you saw Lyney pull this exact trick, you couldn’t help but be amazed. How you envied birds and their unfettered freedom; you could swing from a trapeze and dance across a tightrope all you wished, but you’d never have wings of your own to unfurl and take to the sky with. It brought a half-hearted, melancholy smile to your face as you watched the doves flutter across the achingly blue sky in perfect formation again under Lyney’s guidance. You still didn’t know how in Teyvat he’d managed to train them.

The rehearsal went off without a hitch. In everyone else’s opinion, at least; the troupe’s magician extraordinaire insisted that there were still a few wrinkles that needed ironing out. You had to resist the urge to throw your shoe at him when he asked why you did three flips in the air rather than four, and only refrained because they were too valuable to accidentally ruin.

“I’d like to see you stay in mid-air long enough to pull off four backflips,” you’d retorted, grumpy thanks to the post-session muscle pains. The dent in the back of your knees was redeveloping the mottled bruises that rarely faded from the press of the trapeze’s bar, and every inch of your body throbbed. You loved it. You hoped this would be the rest of your life.

“Ah, mon moineau, I’m but a humble magician!” He protested with a grin. “How could you possibly expect me to ever compete with your boundless grace?”

You groaned, lying back on the grass to stare up at the setting sun. Rehearsals were no joke; it had taken almost twelve hours.

“Shut up, Lyney. I’ll give you four flips onstage tomorrow. And a fist to your face right now if you don’t stop nagging.”

“So generous,” he replied, collapsing next to you on the ground. You watched the sky darken from blues to oranges to dusky purple, and he watched the same colours reflected in your eyes. Infinitely more beautiful than any sunset, he thought. The familiar snapping sound of his cards brought you out of your thoughtful stupor.

“Pick a card, any card,” he said in his stage voice, the one that oozed charisma and urged the listener to believe him, trust him and his magic. You reached over and pulled out a card from the deck without looking; this little ritual was something of a routine. While Lyney could easily find the card you picked with his magic alone, he liked to practice genuine sleight of hand in private, with you or Lynette. Lynette, while her magic wasn’t quite as flashy as Lyney’s, was much more skilled in sleight of hand than him and frequently criticised his technique. Sometimes Lyney just wanted a starry-eyed member of the audience to applaud him, and while you were resolutely unmoved by his charm he knew you enjoyed his little displays. So he graciously accepted your compliments when he correctly picked your card.

“The magician extraordinaire strikes again,” you remarked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Yet he can never strike gold when it comes to what he truly covet; the heart of his beloved.”

You cackled unabashedly; that was definitely one of his cheesier lines. With a bracing smack to his shoulder, you rose to your feet.

“You’re losing your touch, old man.” You stretched your arms above your head, then loosened your hair from its elaborate up-do and made your way to the train before night could fall in earnest.

“You wound me so, ma cherie,” he said, putting on a rather good show of looking distraught. Still, the amused twinkle in his eyes didn’t escape you.

Lyney was a chronic flirt, plain and simple. You supposed it came with the trade; magicians were masters of deceit, after all, convincing the audience to see what they wanted them to see and nothing more. Such a philosophy could be applied to many other circumstances; he could make people feel wanted, desirable, with a few well-placed honeyed words. Besides, Lyney liked flirting. He found it amusing, an enjoyable and effortless little pastime that he frequently employed to get what he wanted, whether that be an additional attendant for the night’s show or a dance partner at the latest ball. So you didn’t take it personally; Lyney was a chronic flirt who could flatter the sky into being red if he so wished but still couldn’t get you to blush. It irked him greatly, your immunity to his charm; but it made you all the more attractive. He’d tried to  chalk it up to himself liking a challenge, and you presenting just that in the past; but deep down, he’d always known he wouldn’t be able to fool himself for much longer. Now the box of his feelings was starting to strain at the seams, and you still showed no signs of surrendering to his smooth, flattering whispers.

You smiled at him before sliding the door of your compartment shut. He was a goner. He’d been a goner for a long time, now, and Lynette took the liberty of appearing out of thin air to reinforce the fact.

“Lyney. Focus, you can’t afford to get distracted.” Twins they may be, in many ways Lynette was his polar opposite. Where he lured others into rooms of smoke and mirrors with his sliver tongue, Lynette was blunt and to the point, intimidating where Lyney was welcoming. Regardless, they employed different methods to achieve the same goal; trick the right people into doing what they wanted. Lynette raised her eyebrows in his direction. “Or confess and get it over with.”

Lyney sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Dearest sister. You make it sound so simple.”

“That’s because it is, and you’re just a coward,” she replied unapologetically, dragging him away. “Keep your head on your shoulders, this show is important.”

“Sometimes I forget I’m the older one because of how bossy you are,” he grumbled.

“Not my fault you don’t take initiative and live up to your position.”

He huffed and pinched her cheek until she slapped his hands away.

You slept like a rock and woke up to find the train on a new track; the one leading directly to Fontaine. Flinging open the window, you stuck your head out and relished the familiar sound of the turning wheels and grinding gears, taking in the sight of the lush countryside whizzing past. A contented sigh slipped past your lips, and you propped your elbows on the windowsill and your face in your hands to watch the rows of trees fade to clusters of bushes and miles and miles of flowers. A series of knocks on your door startled you out of reverie, and you grudgingly opened with it complete certainty of who you would find on the other side.

Lyney beamed down at you.

“Good morning, mon moineau.”

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle a yawn. “Morning, Lyney. When will we reach the city?”

“If old Jacques is right, then we should be eating the finest of Fontaine’s cuisine before noon.”

He was clearly excited; you could tell from the way he couldn’t stand still and the perpetual little smile on his face, one of the genuine upturns of his lips that weren’t merely for show.

“Someone’s excited,” you remarked, running a hand through your hair to tame the mess.

“Ah, can you blame me?” He chuckled, leaning against the entrance of your room. “Nothing compares to the Nation of Justice, truly.”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help the little bounce in your step as you got ready. The show may have been hours away, but there was an infinite number of loose ends that needed to be tied before then. Lyney pulled his trademark deck of crimson cards out of nowhere, shuffling them back and forth absent-mindedly and exuding zeal and vigour; now that they were back in Fontaine, his father could perhaps see how far he and his sister had come. Maybe they’d finally be recruited into the Fatui. His heart hammered at the thought until his gaze landed on you, leaned over the shelf below your mirror and tying up your hair. A strand slipped out of the ribbon you were trying to tie it into, and he was seized by the urge to tuck it behind your ear. He would be forced to abandon the troupe if he was recruited. The thought had occurred to him, countlessly, endlessly, ceaseless and persistent and much more discomforting than he preferred; at some point between you mopping the floor with him in your very first argument where you bartered your way into the troupe and now, where he watched you get ready and predicted your next move without thinking from your tiny gestures and expressions, you’d wormed your way into his life and he wasn’t sure how he’d fare without you in it. The knowledge that you’d adapt without him just fine made it sting all the more.

“Lyney,” you said impatiently, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Quit staring at me like I threatened to steal your wages.”

“Apologies, mon amour. I was entranced by your beauty.” Even after contemplating such a dizzying prospect as not seeing you again, complimenting you came so naturally. He firmly believed it was duty to do so, with how effortlessly you took his breath away.

“Flirt,” you muttered under your breath, half exasperatedly and half affectionately. It made his stomach swarm with butterflies and his brain cloud over with visions of you with him. Archons. You were ruining his life without even lifting a single finger.

“You know, getting to Fontaine was my initial goal when I ran away from home,” you remarked to his as you rummaged through the trunk of clothes by the foot of your bed. “I’m as far as I could possibly be from that life.” You tossed something in his direction, and he caught it without thinking. “I have you to thank for that.”

He opened his fist to reveal a delicate silver chain from which a teardrop shaped diamond hung. He looked up at you, incredulous.

“What… what is this?”

“A necklace, you numbskull,” you replied simply, pausing at the gilded mirror to brush away a smear of rouge from your face. You made your way to him, tugging him down by the frilled collar of his shirt to plant a kiss on his cheek. He was quite certain he caught a glimpse of Celestia when your lips touched his skin. “It’s my thank you. And your very late birthday gift.”

There really was no saving him.

“(Name), wait. You can’t- I can’t accept this.”

You laughed. Every last drop of his easy charisma had completely evaporated, leaving him hot and bothered and flushed to the tips of his ears. It was… cute.

“You think I’m stupid? You’ll be disappearing with your darling sister soon, won’t you?” You said, raising your eyebrows. There was a touch of glitter dusted across your cheekbone, probably from the previous day’s rehearsal. He wondered in a daze how it would look on his lips instead. “And once you’re gone, you’ll need something to remember the person you failed to charm by, no?”

“But- this is an heirloom,” he said, staring down at you. “You told me yourself.”

“Didn’t think you were so attentive.”

As if you could do anything without capturing his complete attention.

“Ma cherie, I-”

“Shut it, Lyney. Accept the damn gift. Maybe you won’t be whisked off after this show and you can sell it and treat yourself. Celestia knows you need a proper pair of stage shoes.”

He watched you disappear into the costumes compartment, utterly dumbfounded. Being  members of a circus, savings were worth double their value due to the erratic nature of the amount and timing of wages. You’d given him a genuine diamond necklace. As thanks. As a birthday gift. Something in his chest wouldn’t stop fluttering.

Fontaine was stunning in every sense of the word, from the meandering streams slicing through pristine strips of greenery to the towering buildings and bronzed mechanical arrays. You understood why Lyney loved it so much, and even Lynette was smiling to herself instead of her usual impassive expression. This show would likely be the grandest one yet; Lady Furina was well known for her love of dramatics and the troupe was eager to impress. Performers, you’d discovered when you became one of them, thrived off two things: an audience’s avid praise and the thrill of a perfect show, and the Cirque Extravaganza was indeed extravagant enough to cater to both. Your life had been a performance, before, but without the inherent whimsy of stage lights and silk curtains and the sheer ecstasy of doing something that made your head spin and heart hammer. You performed for your parents, for other nobles, and unwilling actor on a stage you wanted nothing more than to burn down; the next best thing was yelling a good few obscenities at the cast you so despised then leaping off it, which you wholeheartedly did when you ran away. Nothing, not even the saccharinity of a certain magician’s whispers, was sweeter than the knowledge that you’d well and truly escaped the life in which you were forced to fill a role you had no interest in. Freedom was a drug you unreservedly savoured, waking up on a circus train with its taste on your tongue as the engine huffed and puffed, a place where tattered silk and velvet adorned every surface and the scent of passion and perfume hung heavy in the air.

You and the troupe made a quiet arrival through the gates of the city. The grand introduction would come later that night, when Lyney would take to the stage, captivating the crowd with his magic and mesmerising them with his charm as you and your fellow performers offered tantalising glimpses of your own tricks and left them with dazzled expressions and gossip to last at least a month or two. The familiar buzz of anticipation rushed through your veins as you prepared for that night’s show, and you welcomed it with open arms. The troupe’s yelling, the clattering of props and the faint sound of the classical music Lyney and Lynette always played before a show for good luck formed the cacophony of a chaotic circus, the top floor of the Hotel Debord thrumming with excitement.

Lyney waltzed through the open door of your room, wearing the black and maroon outfit he’d recently acquired and a wide smile.

“Well, ma cherie? How are you feeling?” He asked, leaning against the vanity as you perfected your hair and stage makeup. Superstitious as you were, doing these touch-ups in front of a mirror that wasn’t the old, gilded one in your train compartment was a little unnerving. You were so accustomed to seeing the ornate golden roses frame your reflection, the plain steel of this hotel mirror was… lacklustre.

“How are you feeling, magician extraordinaire?” You countered with a teasing wiggle of your eyebrows. “Looking awfully dapper, that’s for sure.”

He hid his blush behind a gloved hand, laughing. “Why, thank you. I never thought I’d have the honour of bringing you to my homeland. It makes everything all the more delightful.” That was the problem with Lyney; try to tease him with a borderline flirtatious remark and he’d return it tenfold.

“Hope it’s delightful enough to get you through this show,” you said, slipping on your shoes. “Six hours onstage is nothing to turn your nose up at.”

He shifted just behind you to glance at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his top hat. Out of habit, you reached up and nudged its brim over his eyes.

“It will be the grandest show we’ve ever put on,” he declared with a grin, readjusting the hat. You shot him an amused look.

“Grander than last year’s show during the summer festival?”

Lyney groaned, hiding his face in his hand. You cackled; it was considered taboo to mention that. It had been an utter fiasco.

“Ah, why must you remind me of that, ma cherie? Surely it’s bad luck to mention disastrous events before such an important show as this one.”

“Performers’ superstition,” you muttered under your breath.

“As if you don’t paint your nails red for good luck!” He returned with a chuckle.

“You’ve infected me,” you deadpanned, grabbing the bow on the back of his suit and dragging him with you to the door. You refrained from telling him that red was your lucky colour because it was his trademark, and Lyney was truly the first blessing fortune had bestowed upon you. No doubt he’d never let you live it down if he found out. “Let’s go, magician. This audience won’t dazzle itself.”

And of course, the troupe did indeed dazzle the audience. Cards and confetti flew through the air, vibrant smoke from coloured flames hovered over the crowd, kittens and tigers leapt through hoops and then exploded into clouds of glitter, all while the orchestra played a hauntingly beautiful melody that echoed unnaturally through the Opera Epiclese’s soaring hall.

You did a fair bit of soaring yourself, on your trusty trapeze from one post to another then bounding over the tightrope as though it were a bridge miles wide with the air rushing past you and ruffling your hair, the ribbons tied to your wrists and ankles streaming behind you.

Lyney’s grand finale involved a tenuous dance with Lynette while dodging various pyrotechnics that flared up at random intervals across the stage, stepping through a wall of fire then twirling Lynette into nothingness with a flick of his wrist. From the rehearsals alone, it promised to be a magnificent trick.

One problem: Lynette was nowhere to be found. Or at least, that’s what Lyney wanted you to believe as he watched you perfectly execute the four somersaults you’d promised him and land directly- in his arms?

This wasn’t right. How did Lyney intercept your landing? And so seamlessly, without a single hitch, for that matter? (Quite simple. He’d watched you obsessively every time you rehearsed, terrified you’d slip, fall, topple off the impossibly thin rope and down onto the unforgiving ground. Your pride would never allow for a net, so Lyney took it in his own hands to make sure he could be your safety measure if the need ever arose, to make sure he could protect you from your own determination, your own certainty that you were truly unconquerable while metres up in the air. Sometimes he half-expected wings to burst from your shoulder blades, other times he nearly tore his gloves into ribbons from how hard he clenched his fists, frozen with dread and surety that this time your grace would fail you, that your balance would never come and you’d be yet another body bleeding through the chapters of the book that was his life.) No matter. You were here now, on the stage with the golden lights bathing the two of you in warmth, and most importantly, every eye trained on you. If practice and repetition were the bread and butter of any artist, then as performers improvisation was the layer of jam, the extra sweetness and embellishment that set the art form apart; and now, in this unpractised, unrehearsed position with Lyney’s hands on your waist and the audience’s attention on you and the still-present hum of adrenaline from the tightrope in your veins, you exhaled and placed your hand on Lyney’s shoulder. The opening stance of the dance. His lilac eyes met yours, and you gave him an imperceptible nod. The orchestra swelled once more, and you let yourself relax, muscle memory from hours upon hours in the ballroom of your family’s estate taking over. A searing flame surged up from the floor, and you twisted to only just dodge it. Another pillar of blazing red, dangerously close to Lyney’s top hat; he swept into a bow, hat off, as though inviting you to another dance. You curtsied in response, and the same flame missed your hair by half an inch as your head dipped down. Crackling sparks behind you; Lyney pulled you to his chest. A roaring fire to your right; you led him in a slow, purposeful circle around it. Red, red, red, raging and hot; sweat dripped down the back of your neck and smoke tickled the back of your throat. The audience gasped and cheered as you deftly side-stepped every last flicker, the sound mingling with the roaring inferno and the distant music from the orchestra; a trumpet note here and a skilful bit of piano there, and most of all, Lyney’s off-kilter breathing and faint panting for air. His touch seared your skin, more scorching than any fire. With a final gasp, he lifted you above his head as a tower of sizzling fireworks exploded from where you’d stood a moment before. A last quivering chord from the violin. Lyney’s face just inches from yours, sharing the same smoke-tinged breath. For a brief, horrifying moment, nothing; a curtain of blackness so deep and impenetrable you almost feared you’d never be found again. You supposed this was the part where he made you disappear. Sensations rushed back. Dimly, the eruption of wild applause and his chest heaving against yours.

Archons, he wanted to kiss you so badly. He doubted a more tempting dilemma could ever be presented to him. Before he gave in and crushed his lips to yours, he pivoted on his heel and bowed to the audience with a flourish. You followed suit, and the stage was soon littered with flowers. You could discern Lady Furina’s voice, high and clear, shouting ‘Bravo! Bravo! Magnifique! Enchanteur!”

The greatest of all performances, indeed, thrown in hopes that his Father would witness their accomplishments and take them back. So why was he so relieved that he didn’t glimpse her piercing, unmistakable gaze throughout the whole show? Why could he think of nothing besides your glowing eyes, your features softened then sharpened by the fire, the scent of your perfume mixing with the smoke?

Backstage, you picked at the singed ribbons on your wrists and ankles while the rest of the troupe hurried about, exhausted down to the bone and ashes in your throat. Eventually you gave up on a particularly stubborn knot, leaning your head back against the wall and sighing, only for Lyney to appear at your side and work at the ribbon with his nimble fingers instead.

“Are you alright?” He asked, propping your limp wrist in his lap.

“What happened? Where did Lynette go?”

“Answer my question,” he replied sternly, pulling the ribbon off your wrist and tracing the veins there with his fingertips.

“Answer mine,” you immediately retorted, stubbornness flaring. He chuckled.

“If you’ve got enough energy to argue I suppose you’re fine.”

“Well?” You demanded after a brief pause where you simply sat together in tired silence. “What went wrong with your trick?”

Surprise crossed his face. “Went wrong? I thought it was perfect.”

You lifted your head to shoot him an incredulous look. His fingertips continued to trace the network of veins snaking across your wrist.

“Lyney. You know what I mean. I wasn’t supposed to be involved at all!”

“Maybe it was meant to be, then,” he suggested with a wink. You groaned, running a hand though your hair.

“It’s impossible for you to take anything seriously, isn’t it?” He was inclined to disagree. There was nothing he took more seriously than your safety and presence in his life.

“Is Lynette alright?” You asked next, curling up and leaning your weight against him, tiredness rapidly setting in. Lyney held very still, afraid to make a wrong move and have your comforting warmth removed.

“She’s… she’s fine. Making tea, I suspect.”

You hummed in agreement, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re not a very comfortable pillow,” you remarked. “You should eat more.”

“Anything for you, cherie,” he all but choked out, desperately flustered by the way you’d draped yourself over him. He could acutely feel every curve and dip of your body pressed against his. Was death by overheating possible?

You grumbled, pinching his arm. “Shut up, this isn’t the time for flirting.” Any time was perfect for reminding you how wonderful you were and how much you meant to him. “And don’t try to catch me like that again, it scared me. You’re not supposed to interrupt my routine.”

“I apologise.” “Damn right you do,” you retorted, pushing yourself off him and stretching. There was a very unsavoury pain in your lower back, and you hissed as the tender muscle strained. “So.” You turned to properly face Lyney, crossing your legs beneath you and grinning. “Was your Father there? In the audience?”

You were determined to be supportive, to share his enthusiasm at returning to the Fatui, even if your heart wobbled strangely at the thought of him leaving. He faltered in the face of you excitement. Were you that eager to have him gone…?

“…No,” he finally replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You misread the sudden disheartened sag in his shoulders and downwards tip of his mouth as disappointment, and rushed to somehow comfort him.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure word of your incredible performance will reach every ear in Fontaine. It’s only a matter of time,” you said, not unkindly. When his dejected expression didn’t budge, you sighed and pulled sharply at the bow on his shoulder to regain his attention. “Hey. Stop frowning like that. A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be ruined by premature wrinkles.” You didn’t tell him that seeing him so lost and hesitant made your stomach drop, or that the sight of his smile would bring one to your face. A magician who could make your heart disappear the moment he had it in his grasp didn’t need to know that.

“…Is it pleasing to you?” He murmured with a touch of his usual teasing, glancing back up at you while his fingers still lingered on your wrist, tracing an invisible pattern. “My face?”

“To me and every young lady within a five metre radius, I’d wager.”

“But especially to you?” Lyney pressed, smiling in earnest now. You had a terrifying way of doing that, flipping his emotions with nothing but a few sweet words from your lips, and he was quite happy to surrender his heart to your whims if it meant he could have these precious few moments where he could almost fool himself into thinking you reciprocated.

You sighed, turning slightly so you could lean your back against his side. It’d be better if he couldn’t see the way you blushed at your reply, so soft it was almost drowned out by the sounds of the troupe celebrating another successful show. “Yes, Lyney. Especially to me.”

(The troupe quieted down when they saw the two of you fast asleep backstage, propped against each other with your head on Lyney’s shoulder and his fingers loosely wrapped around your wrist. If several Kameras ran out of storage that day, then it was strictly an everyone-knows-except-you-two situation. The particularly adorable photos become a secret currency. Everyone wants the singular copy of the one where you’re both smiling gently in your sleep. Lynette smugly refuses to part with it.)

Life in Fontaine was so jarringly steady, an uninterrupted flow of café visits and wandering the countryside and tossing spare change into the Fountain of Lucine, fields of flowers and an endlessly blue sky forming a mild backdrop for picture-perfect moments. It was so different than what you’d grown accustomed to; the constant rush of being on the move, the train’s constant rumbling and puffing, haphazard memorabilia strewn across every surface and late night drinking and card games with the boundless night as your only witness. The first few weeks off the train find you and many of the other members with wobbly legs, unused to solid land rather than the shifting and swaying you were familiar with. Jokes about being akin to sailors are popular and repeated in every possible iteration during this time, and you were in such good spirits that you laugh at every single one.

As you’ve come to expect, the initial rush from yet another one of the Cirque Extravaganza’s triumphs in conquering a new stage quickly gave way to throngs of over-enthusiastic fans cropping up through the city streets, country roads and anywhere else you decided to venture. The little children are sweet and eager, and you regale them with clumsy attempts at sleight-of-hand when Lyney isn’t there, offering them flowers and candy that they gleefully accepted. Some, those who are sceptical about the validity of your skill, ask you to scale the nearest tree or lamp-post, or do a backflip, or some other trial to prove that you weren’t a fraud of some sort. You humour these requests, and any disbelievers leave in a state of awe with an autograph clutched in their hands. One girl, bolder than most with a grin bright enough to be on stage, asked for one of the ribbons you wore during the performance. Charmed by her confidence, you gave her the least singed one, and in that instance you also left with a piece of paper, one where she scrawled her address with a heart doodled in the corner. Lyney was oddly indignant when he found it, and sulked rather impressively all day until you dragged him to an ice cream parlour you’d heard word of even back in Mondstadt. It was, in a way, a tribute to your older sister Eula; the two of you would often daydream together about prancing freely about in a faraway place and eating desserts with no concern for etiquette or the reputation of your family. You wished you could share this experience with her, but she’d been adamant on staying and becoming a Knight. Although- you cut a glance towards Lyney, who’d ordered a blackberry and cherry mix that matched almost perfectly with the hues he was currently fond of wearing- this is nice too. You took the lift to the highest floor it could reach, then scaled the wall surrounding the city with considerable difficulty, ice creams in hand, to sit on the edge and admire the sprawling view of the water dotted with light from the stars.

Lyney hadn’t quite forgotten the overzealous advances you’d entertained, but being in your company in the City of Love, sharing laughter and smiles and anecdotes over treats every bit as saccharine as the affection he held for you was the most effective soothing balm against the sting of knowing your attention wasn’t solely devoted to him the same way his was to you. The moonlight helped, too; it added to atmosphere and greatly appeased his romantic side.

 (You stole glances at him when he wasn’t paying attention, tucking glimpses of his relaxed expression away in your memory. It was nice to see your Lyney every now and then, rather than the magician extraordinaire of the Cirque Extravaganza.)

You reached over to steal a spoonful of Lyney’s ice cream, and he swerved away to avoid you so energetically that he nearly fell off the edge of the enormous wall surrounding the Court of Fontaine. You grabbed the hood of his cape to steady him before he could tumble down to a painful death.

“Don’t go falling off after all the trouble I went to get us up here,” you said, amused, and Lyney huffed indignantly as you smugly ate the bite of ice cream you’d managed to steal from him.

“I doubt the fall would be half as painful as falling for you, mon amour,” he smoothly replied, even having the unparalleled audacity to shoot you a wink as if he hadn’t been on the precipice of his demise mere moments before.

“That’s it, I’m pushing you myself,” you deadpanned, kicking his foot with your own where they dangled off the edge.

“You’re all bark and no bite,” he accused with a laugh. “You couldn’t survive a day without me.”

You levelled him with an unimpressed look, lifting a spoonful of ice cream to your mouth.

“Every day you astonish me with your sheer arrogance.”

He grinned, leaning forward to emphasise his next words. “You didn’t deny it,” he pointed out in a slightly sing-song voice. “Admit it, cherie.” Lyney’s heart hammered dizzyingly loud in his ears. This felt like such dangerous territory to tread, perched as high off the ground as you made him feel. Should he retreat, let your delicate waltz of quips and flirtations go on?

“Admit what?” You replied, trying to sound dismissive but failing when your breath caught in your throat as he inched closer. Surely you only felt dizzy because of the height. Surely it wasn’t because Lyney’s eyes refracted into a hundred shades of violet, stars reflected in their surface, or because he was so close a strand of his hair brushed your cheek. “You make it sound as if I’m a criminal on trial, about to plead guilty and confess.”

“Maybe you should confess,” he breathed, lifting his hand to your face. You watched his movements raptly, heart racing. “Archons know you’re guilty of stealing my heart, mon moineau, and there’s nowhere for you to fly away and evade your charges.”

Words died on your tongue when his knuckles brushed gently across your cheek, and your heart fluttered like the sparrows he was so fond of comparing you to. This wasn’t like his usual flirting, you distantly realised. He was seriously asking you to confess. His fingers twirled a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear, bringing you closer by the nape of your neck. You frowned at him.

“I am not verbally admitting to liking you in this lifetime.” He looked so crestfallen you could almost laugh. “They do say actions speak louder than words, though,” you added with a whisper, then carefully leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. Lyney, to his credit, quickly recovered from his initial surprise and the overwhelming fact that you tasted like ice cream, then made shockingly swift work of trying to deepen the kiss by grazing his teeth along your lower lip, to which you responded with a choked yelp and jumping away. You couldn’t possibly fathom the effort it took not to grab you and drag you back to continue where you left off.

“Archons, Lyney!” You hissed, out of breath and red-faced, fingers carefully pressing against your tender, swollen lips. Lyney subconsciously licked his own at the sight, completely and utterly devoid of any semblance of shame, in awe of how the moonlight set you aglow. He marvelled at how easily it was to exasperate you as one of his hands moved to your waist, trying not-so-subtly to bring you closer again.

His grin could only be described as self-congratulatory. “What?” He asked, not even bothering to feign innocence. Before you had the chance to heatedly respond, he swooped in to peck your cheek, then your lips, flustering you all over again.

“The one time I try to be romantic and you ruin it by being greedy,” you lamented, shooting him a joking glare.

“You’ll have plenty more chances to be romantic in the future, amour,” he replied with a grin. “Just kiss me for now.”

“So demanding,” you breathed. “What makes you so sure there’ll be future chances, hm?”

“Come now,” he coaxed, tilting your chin up just so. “You know you can’t resist me.”

“Shut up, you arrogant magician,” you grumbled, then silenced him with your lips on his, because maybe, just maybe, he was right.

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘

[avocado62524]

[im-still-watching-anime]

i know the little goofy spin off series are a Thing™️ for a lot of manga and animes but god bsd wan is actually so necessary to offset canon being Like That i am in so much pain

[burinazar]

It's funny stepping back into fandom spaces where most people are within my general age range or older after making so many younger friends in MiAbyss fandom* so when i go back to my old stomping grounds of LOGH or T&B or Star Trek or Vorkosiverse or the BJD hobby or just the whole entire SFF/genre fiction reader+writer sphere and it's like oh ok yeah. i'm not really thaaaaaaattttt humongously old i guess. because to be honest with you sometimes in other contexts i feel like the club penguin 18+ elderly penguin

*not to erase those of you in there who are older! it's just that something with MiA that was a brand new experience for me over the last year is that I sure did accumulate some treasured fandom friends a decade-ish younger than me and i feel somewhat protective of them slash occasionally ashamed of not being a more impressive role model or something but okay look you guys don't want a mentor you want a draw-er of shitposts and a writer-er of decentish fanfics and That I Can Do

[composeregg]

i voted akira in your honor!

thank u friend u honor me well, my dream finals are Akira (Joker) (me) vs Arsene, and I will conceed if arsene wins thats a fair win thats my guy, respect that guy. Respect his grandson slightly less (but it is all in good fun)

[mellifera38]

Bruh. As much as we talk about how funny and wacko the early era of tumblr was with its mishapocalypses and so on and so forth, I like tumblr a LOT more now. Like, if you were ace, you did NOT wanna look in the asexuality tag back then like holy fuck. It was a hostile battleground in there every day. The idea of being "aphobic" was in and of itself a joke. It was a perfectly valid stance on here. People would straight up make fake ace blogs just to say super cringy shit so ppl could screenshot and use it for an example of our attitudes and behavior. It was so fucking exhausting to be on here sometimes. Every day I had to block blogs I had followed for ages and legitimately liked and I remember being so upset All The Time like bitch I'm just existing here what the fuck man. Eventually I just kinda backed my ass right back into the closet and blacklisted any and all ace content. Just said fuck it I can't look at this shit anymore I'm done i dont even care what I am.

I glanced in the ace tag today bc it's ace day and was so relieved. Like I know it probably hasn't been bad like it was for awhile now but I'm still just like always expecting the worst from the internet. I still subconsciously stay removed from my own identity most of the time and take pains not to bring it up unless I'm with my close friends, and even then not very often. I still cautiously hesitate to say I'm part of the queer community even tho most people it seems are on board with the A in LGBTQIA being for Aspec. It could just be that with the tiddy ban most of the remaining perpetrators left or something but either way I'm really glad this place has become legitimately ace-positive. I wouldn't have believed it possible back then there was SO much vitriol aimed at us. Even if this site is actually just an echo chamber of aces shouting positivity at each other today, I'll still enjoy it. They didn't really let us do that back then. They invaded every tag we tried to make for ourselves. So happy Ace Day. Don't forget to appreciate every positive post that shows up on your dash.

[chaethewriter]

bf does my makeup q&a

Jack Champion x content creator!reader

In which you record a Youtube video with your boyfriend, the one and only Jack Champion.

word count: 2,3k

Warning: fluff, lots of fluff that it's cringey, this took me 5 days to write bruh I'm lacking

tagged: @viivvriv @genesis4545 @norrisgf @darkcrusadestrawberry @drxwstxrkxy @wafflehousewrold

"Camera, set!" You put your camera on its stand as you flipped the screen around, pointing towards the front for you to see. Jack appeared on the screen as you did so, sitting on the couch in your room as in front of him stood a table with your two makeup bags and a mirror. You pressed record when everything was clear on screen— centered and not lopsided. You took a step back as you watched yourself on screen, thus making him immediately grab you by the waist, putting you down on his lap. He held you tightly against him, his arms caging you from behind, "Mmm, can't you start the intro now?" His face buried in your hair as he spoke, satisfied with the position they were in. But you had different ideas, as you abruptly got off his lap and took a seat next to him, your legs thrown over his lap, "you can't do my makeup when I'm on your lap, pookie." You booped his nose with your nail as the words left your lips. As a response, he groaned as he sat back, resting his back against the soft material of your coach, his hands behind his neck as he watched you through his eyelids. You took your phone out and clicked on the Instagram icon for today's video.

"Hello, pookies! Welcome back to the channel. Today is a very special video as I'm joined by my sweet Jack!" You wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him close to you, your cheeks pressed against one another. He brought his arms down, wrapping one around your waist. His gaze settled on your camera as he smiled, "Hi guys!" He greeted your viewers with his other hand raised into the air, doing his familiar greeting sign with his thumb, index, and middle finger. You pulled away from your boyfriend, putting your phone in your lap as you clapped in your hands, "Today! As the title said, Jack here will be doing my makeup as we answer relationship questions you guys have sent me through my story!"

"Follow her insta, by the way! Appearing right here!" Jack is almost a natural, as he did some magician movements with his hands for you to edit your username in. You watched as he did so, making you burst in a fit of giggles, "You're such a natural babe, you should start your own channel."

"What can I say? I'm Jack the Champ!"

"So cringey?" The two of you looked into each other's eyes as you laughed. You clung onto your stomach as Jack clung onto you for dear life. The laughing continued for like five minutes. You really had to cut this out later. "Okay! Okay! So Jack needs to recreate my usual makeup look with the makeup provided while we answer questions. I'm such a kind girlfriend, so I allow him to have a picture of my makeup look on his phone." You explained, pointing at his phone flat on the table with a picture of you opened.

"I just want to announce that I know what my girlfriend looks like and that I already had this picture of her in my gallery as well as hundreds of other pictures I snapped of her!" You rolled your eyes at that statement, a chuckle leaving your lips, "Yeah, yeah! Anyways, let's get started. What do we start with, babe?" You watch as Jack carefully unpacked your makeup bags instead of throwing them upside down. He knew how much you valued your products, and he made sure he was gentle with them. It gave you a warm feeling. He put everything down in a neat order, looking at all the different brushes and products, "so from my acting experience, because you know I'm an actor, they always use the prime thing first? Like to keep your makeup intact?" He looked at you with puppy eyes, asking for approval to his words. You knew you're supposed to not give him any hints, but you couldn't stop yourself from nodding your head. While Jack looked for the 'prime thing', as he said it, you scrolled through the questions you were asked.

"Found it!" The two of you exclaimed at the same time: Jack talking about the primer and you talking about a question. He picked the product up— the glass container filled with a white cream as a lid covered the pump. You smile as he pumped some on the back of his hand and taps it against your skin with his finger, putting both his hands on your cheeks right after and spreading it with his palms. You fell into a fit of giggles as he did so, "Jack!" You exclaimed with your face all squeezed up. Proud of his work, he pulled his palms away and awaited a question from one of the viewers. You brought your phone to your face as you read the first question, "How did the two of you meet? Jack, the honor is to you."

Jack brought his hand to his chin as he pretended to think, thus making you playfully slap his chest, "Don't pretend you don't know, now!"

"Okay okay! We actually met during my Avatar press tour. She was all over me and I thought she was incredibly pretty." He exaggerated what had actually happened and you barely wait to voice this out loud, "That's not how it went! Stop embarrassing me!" Your face heated up as you looked at the camera, "Yes we did meet at his press tour, but I wasn't 'all over him'! I just asked for a picture, posted it, and tagged him in it, and all of a sudden, he was in my DMs. Don't change the story now, mister Champion!"

This time, it was Jack's turn to blush immensely. His secret revealed how he actually made the first move. He recollected himself, before a grin spreaded across his face, "I mean what can I say? I'm a rizzer."

"Oh god, please never say that again."

The two of you laughed as he picked the eyeliner up, "You have a weird way of applying makeup, so this actually comes second. I don't understand why, though?" He uncapped the eyeliner, revealing the inbuild eyeliner brush. "Eyeliner is so hard to do! Like it takes so long cause I want it to be perfect and by the time I am done my foundation isn't correct anymore because of the wiping!" You whined your complaints out, already growing frustrated thinking about the struggle.

Jack put his hand on your waist as he pulled you closer to him, "Sit still, baby. I never did this before so uhm here goes nothing?"

"Don't poke my eyeball, please." You then kept your mouth shut, as if it helped with him doing better. Jack is incredibly delicate with it though— he held your chin with his hand while the eyeliner was in his other staring directly into your eyes as he concentrated on his work. You felt your skin heating up yet again, your grip on the eyeliner tube wet, thanks to your sweaty hands. It doesn't matter how long you're together with him. He never failed to make you feel nervous. He never broke eye contact, not even when he dipped the brush in the eyeliner. His breath fanned against your skin as he leaned in closer, "Are you nervous?"

"Shut up..." Your voice came out softer than expected. Unfortunately, he pulled back to admire his handywork. It's not even, but he is proud either way. "Next question, babe!" He playfully nudged you with a cheeky grin.

"You're so annoying!!" You quickly brought your phone to your face in an attempt to hide your embarrassed state. "But you love me!"

"What attracted you to Jack and vice versa? Definitely his goofy self. I usually don't look at gym guys, but Jack's goofy demeanor and just being himself made me attracted to him, no matter what he does."

"You're so cute!" Jack pulled you closer yet again, basically seating you on one of his as your legs dangled to one side. He faced the camera while his arms held you steady, "What made me attracted to her is definitely her way of texting. You feel her care and love and joy when she texts you. She's so sweet about it too, aren't you?" He faced you again with a cheeky grin, making you blush like crazy, "so annoying!!"

He picked your foundation and concealer off the table in front of you, "These are all too familiar to me, but I can't remember which one goes first?" He looked at you with puppy eyes, hoping to get an answer out of you. This time, you kept your mouth shut as you let him figure it out himself. He pouted at you, putting the concealer down. He uncapped the foundation and looked at the brushes. "Babe, which one? You should help me out, I wanna do good."

You almost give in. Almost. Too bad for Jack though, because you only gave him a cheeky grin. His gaze traveled from your pretty face to the table. There were so many different brushes and sponges. He remembered makeup artists using a big one, but which one? He decided on the latter and took the biggest one in his hand. It needed to spread and cover the entire face, after all, right? He decided to follow his gut and put a few small pumps on the back of his hand. He dipped the fluffy part of the brush against it and pressed it to your face. Like you were a canvas and he was the painter. Your chuckling made him roll his eyes, "stay still! I'm being a professional right now."

"sure you do, babe."

Jack started to feel himself in his role as makeup artist. He didn't wait for you as he immediately got on with the concealer. He tapped the wand under your eyes and on your nose, just like artists do to him. He took a small brush and blended it by tapping it. You watched how the tip of his tongue slips out from in-between his lips, his concentration to the max.

Even though your boyfriend has adhd, he can for sure keep his focus on you the entire day. "Next question! Ohh I like this one. When did you realize you fell in love with each other?" You tapped your chin as you think about it. You have always loved Jack, but when did that go from celebrity crush to a real crush?

"I have always loved Jack, if I am going to be honest. I started following him since his Avatar announcement, but he turned into a crush from the moment he wanted to switch from Instagram DMs to messages." You explained as you locked your sparkling eyes with him, awaiting for his response.

He took a moment to admire you, a warm feeling bubbling inside his chest since he knew the exact moment that he realized. "When you looked up at my face with those worried eyes that held so much care as you held on my arms. You always did so, but there was a time when it didn't feel friendly anymore. It felt like so much more as my heart sped up."

That was all it took for you to literally take off.

You sprinted out the room, towards the bathroom, in pure disbelief. The disbelief that he had actually decided to answer the question like that. The disbelief that a boy could actually be so true to his feelings.

"baby? Where are you going?" Did he say something wrong?

You stood in the middle of the bathroom with your face in your hands, teary eyed as you smudged your makeup. "babe?" He had followed you to the bathroom. When he heard your sobs, he immediately panicked. His arms wrapped around your figure, his cheek resting against the crown of your head as his hands caressed your back, "did I do something wrong?"

"no you just, you're, you." You didn't know why you were crying. Well, you did know the reasoning, but you didn't know why it made you so emotional.

"You truly love me."

"yes, yes I do. Of course I do. More than anything else." He ran his hands over your back. He knew you had a hard time when it came to romance in general. You had told him and he made sure to take good care of you, until you truly believed him. And that you did. He took such good care of you. And he would continue to do so until his very last breath.

Recording was long forgotten as the two of you bathed in each other's arms.

He was so happy to be yours.

BONUS:

"Ow! This hurts! Baby please stop!" After the makeup video, you had begged Jack to do a skincare routine with you. He had agreed, not knowing it could have been this bad. It was charcoal mask day.

"It's supposed to hurt!"

"Why would you do this to yourself? Ow ow wait!" He extended his arms to keep you away from him. He was much taller than you, so it certainly did the job. "But why! What does it do?"

"it deep cleans your skin, basically. Your face is going to be silky smooth when I kiss your face all over!"

He thought about it for a second. Kisses? Lots of kisses?

"Do I get lots of kisses after you pull it off me?" You nodded as a response. He sighed in defeat as he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. This was your cue to stand in between his legs, his arms wrapping around you immediately. Your fingers made its way to the pulled bit of his dried mask.

"Fine, you can do it! But I expect a lot of smoo- OH MY FUCK AHHH!" 

[chuuyasheaven]

♡ One of your girls tonight. ♡

Tags: fem! Dazai Osamu / fem! Reader, lesbian sex, pet names (darling, princess, sweetheart), praising, fingering, slight teasing, making out mentioned, nipples getting licked (guess who), neck kissing, hickeys?, overstimulation, dirty talk, porn w/o any plot idk, strap use (first time writing this), ooc? Dazai, might contain grammar errors, rushed, SHORT., etc.

Notes: @heluvaku idk bruh enjoy !!

All you remember is going to some random club after a messy break-up, only trying to have fun. After being there for like 2 hours just sitting there on the bar, you noticed her. A beautiful woman, long brown locks resting on her shoulders, few bandages covering her body and her pretty red lips. Feeling entranced by her, you got closer to her. If only you knew what you got yourself into, not like you complained, the complete opposite actually. .

Back at her place you guys were kissing eachother passionately, she was on top of you while you laid under her, her red lipstick smudging your lips. She let go of your lips, looking at you seductively. Dazai lowered her head again until her breath was hitting your neck, leaving a few kisses and maybe hickeys here and there. Deciding it was enough, she was looking at your chest, from which she took the shirt off, your tits out for her to suck on. Her warm breath hitting your nipples before it disappeared inside her mouth, sucking on it and teasing it with her tongue. "Feels good, darling?", Dazai asked before going down on the other. "F–fuckkk.", was all what left your mouth.

Your nipples were drenched with her spit, even some of her smudged lipstick on your tits. Since you were only in your panties right now, she let her fingers trace over your body until she stopped at your panties' waistband. Only to leave it on and slid between your legs, pushing your panties to the side for easy entrance. Dazai's fingers were long and slim, her moves were delicate, making you feel like you never have before. With some moans slipping from you, she curled her fingers to unlock more. "Ah— D–dazai. .", you managed to say, she looked at you with a teasing expression. "What is it, sweetheart?", you gulped before answering, her fingers hitting your cervix.

"I'm g–gonna—", you gasped before your climax washed over you. How did you cum that fast? Probably because no one made you feel so good, not even your good for nothing ex boyfriend. "Good girl, think you're ready for the main course?", you automatically nodded immediately, she stood up and went to get something. When Dazai returned, she held a strap, you never knew you could wet this fast. As she finally got everything set, she inserted it into you, slowly and gently first so you could adjust. You never knew that there were sizes like that. While she waited inside you, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, after she just let her finger run up and down your thigh.

Soon you gave her the sign to move and she did, going slow at first. It felt so good, barely even started and you were already a mess. The way it hit spots you didn't even know about drove you crazy. As Dazai picked the speed up, you got louder, with the orgasm from earlier you were already sensitive enough. "D–dazai, please. . f–feels good– hah!", her grip on your waist got slightly harder, pleasure starting to take over her. "F–fuck, keep moaning my name like that and I'll never stop, princess.", in middle of the heat in the moment your phone rang, but you didn't hear, Dazai was your main focus right now. Dazai noticed but didn't say anything, she needed to make you cum again. Your cunt clenched around her strap signaling that your second release was nearing itself.

"I'm not gonna stop until you're going dumb on me, alright, pretty girl? I'm gonna make you forget about everything but me. ."

This was rushed but ngh I need her so bad. </3

[the-record]

ICU

SUMMARY: ellies lost her keys…again… luckily dina’s pretty friend has an empty bed

PAIRING: ellie williams x reader

WARNINGS: none?

A/N: i missed these and yall!! not fully back but i miss writing also if u see stranger things content don’t be alarmed! still v much in love with ellie and abs

‘ I FEEL SOMETHING WHEN I SEE YOU NOW ‘

elliewilliams

elliewilliams LET ME INNNNNNNN. JOEL PLEASE LET ME INNNNNNNN

tagged: joelmmm

load comments…

dina_nolastname BAAHHAHA IMAGIWN 

   elliewilliams i HATE you CRY URSELF TO SLEEP

joelmmm 💤💤💤

   elliewilliams JOEL PLEASE UTS COLD

   elliewilliams IM TIRED AND IM VERY SORRY 

   elliewilliams JOELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

jessesucks go to tommy and marias stupid

   elliewilliams why didnt i think of that? oh wait I DID ITS 2 AM AND THEY HAVE A BABY STUPJD HOW DID YOU EVEN GRADUATE??!!?!?!

yourusername did u lose ur key again

   elliewilliams …no… also HOW DO U KNOW AB THAT?!?!

      yourusername dina talks a LOT when shes drunk

angel: ellie come to mine

ellie: huh?

a: ur locked out, im not, my beds made, urs probably isnt, come over.

e: u barely know me?!?!?

a: dina trusts u idc, come over rn or ill pick u up.

e: send me ur address.

“this was really nice of you.” ellies voice breaks the silence as make room for her beside you. you wave your hand, no worries, but she insists. “no seriously, you could’ve let me die. freeze. starve even.”

when you laugh she doesn’t think she’s ever heard a better sound. “ellie i don’t think any of those things would’ve happened.” you smile and lean on an elbow to look at her. “and i really don’t mind, gets lonely anyways. need a loser dork to fill the silence.” you tease.

she gasps in faux hurt, tracing an imaginary tear down her face.

elliewilliams

elliewilliams an ANGEL yall. $10,000,000 for her and her only.

tagged: yourinstagram

load comments…

yourusername bye i let you stay over a night 😭 i didnt cure cancer

   elliewilliams ur right. $100,000,000 mb

dina_nolastname *sighs*

   elliewilliams i hate you.

joelmmm yourusername I am so sorry Ellie intruded, I’ll pay you for your time and kindness. 

   yourusername 😭😭 damn

      elliewilliams ignore him, he drinks

         yourusername its 8 am.

jessesucks oh you will NEVER live this down.

   elliewilliams blocked.

a_anderson you are an embarrassment to society!

   elliewilliams i hate all of u.

e: hey!

a: real chipper today huh

e: didn’t lose my key all week so yes very

e: i have a question tho

a: lmao im gonna steal ur key from u, whats up?

e: do u wanna go to a concert this weekend??

e: i bought the tickets for dina and i but she cancelled last minute and jesse cant go

e: its like 2 hours away on saturday 

e: also do NOT touch my key please i m begging

a: yea actually id love too :)

a: text me the details

e: great

e: okay yea ofc

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams so…

tagged: yourusername 

load comments…

dina_nolastname MRS STEAL UR GIRL 

   elliewilliams SHE WAS NEVER URS!!!

jessesucks GASPING when did this development occur.

   elliewilliams 🤓☝️

      jessesucks BREAK UP

yourusername girl on the left is sooo fine

   elliewilliams crazy, im more into the one on the right

   dina_nolastname yall r EMBARRASSING 

joelmmm yourinstagram Come for dinner tomorrow! Would love to meet Ellie’s pick of the month. 🩷

   yourinstagram GOODBYEEE

   elliewilliams JOEL?!?!??!!!??!

yourusername

yourusername in an interesting turn of events…

tagged: elliewilliams

load comments…

jessesucks GAG

   yourusername this is why dina dumped you! 💋

      dina_nolastname BYEEE true tho

elliewilliams bruh we are so cute

   yourusername okay “bruh”

      elliewilliams WIAT OM SORRY

dina_nolastname mrs. stolen girl 💔💔

   yourusername im always urs bae 

a_anderson wheres MY cute gf damn.

   yourusername I KNOW SOMEONE WHOO LIIIIIIKES YOU!!

      a_anderson SPILL. 

   elliewilliams go away! 💋

a: hey

e: hi

a: come over?

a: please?

e: are you okay??

a: just please come over.

e: im omw right now

e: be there in 10

e: unlock the front door

a knock on your door wakes you from the light sleep you’d been in. a small ‘come in’ has ellie gently opening the door and walking softly towards your bed. her hands brush hair from your face, a kind smile on her face. something you can’t pinpoint in her eyes.

“you doing okay babe?” her voice is just above a whisper, though no one else would be home to hear it otherwise. “tired?”

you hum an answer out and reach for one of her hands, fiddling with her rings and avoiding her eyes. “can you turn off the light and sit with me?” she smiles and nods, savoring one more second before standing and taking off her jacket while walking to the switch.

its still light out, the evening sun beginning to set but still lighting up enough of your room. as she’s getting in beside you, she notices what you’re wearing. “nice shirt,” ellie says with a snort.

its one of hers, you stole it a few weeks ago with no intention of giving it back. her heart grows as a small smile graces your features. “there she is.” you flush and turn away. she coos teasingly while getting comfortable behind you.

when you do turn, shes the perfect pillow. her fingers trace your features as your eyes shutter closed.

e: hi love, you wanna do something today?

a: you have something in mind?

e: thought we could go bowling 

e: that new bowling place just opened downtown, looks cute

a: kinda tired. do something at home?

e: alreadyomw with snacks for u

a: youre the best.

a: i miss you.

e: i miss you too. you doing okay?

a: are you at work

a: im tired

e: i get off in 30 

e: come over to mine, joel will let you in

a: okay

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams bbg needs a NAP theyre grouchy

tagged: yourusername 

load comments…

yourusername i know where you live.

   elliewilliams LOVE YA!

joelmmm Photo creds.

   elliewilliams sighs.

dina_nolastname angel ALWAYS needs nap bro gets really grumpy

   yourusername I ALSO KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

      dina_nolastname see? grumpy.

jessesucks we’ve all seen the pictures she looks absolutely BEAUTIFUL, uhm… and he’s there… (ellie is he)

   dina_nolastname (ellie is he) BYE

   yourusername HEY JESSIE WOAHHH FEELS LIKE A PARTY EVERYDAY

   elliewilliams remember when dina dumped u?

a: can we go to the aquarium 

e: you feel up to it?

a: no obviously i asked because i don’t 

e: OKAY SORRY DAMN

e: god just being a supportive girlfriend and this is what i get. 

a: GOODBYE I DONT WANNA GO ANYMORE

e: no im sorry im sorry im sorry i wanna go

a: YAY

a: pick me up in 30 pls

e: of course love 

e: im glad you’re feeling better

e: very excited rn

yourusername

yourusername finally left the house after 72628748829 years 

tagged: elliewilliams

load comments…

elliewilliams @ the guy who took this for us ur so real

   yourusername YEA!!!!!!

dina_nolastname yall r so cute CRY

   yourusername u want me fr

jessesucks ICK

   dina_nolastname this is why i dumped u

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams a moment for the gf!

tagged: yourusername

load comments…

yourusername OF ALL THE THINGS YOU POST THIS?!?!? THIS?!!!!!!!?

   elliewilliams but u look so pretty

      yourusername CHOKE ily

         elliewilliams I love YOU

dina_nolastname my wife is so gorg

   elliewilliams back off?

      yourusername LADIES LADIES theres enough of me to go around

jessesucks cute ig

joelmmm You found a good one babygirl! 

   elliewilliams DAMN RIGHT I DID

e: hey i love you

a: i love you too

a: u lose ur key again?

e: …

a: ffs come over good god

e: already here!

a: R U IN MY KITCHEN??!

e: ur mom says hi

e: be up in a sec!! snacks!

[hvnnibvni]

Together Again | JJK *part 2*

Pairings: Jungkook/Reader

Genre: Mature themes. Romance. Angst. Arranged marriage AU. Childhood best friends to lovers AU.

Warnings: cheating, reader is a rope bunny (ALLEGEDLY), hard!dom JK, switch!reader, reader likes to be slutted out, drunken sex, unplanned pregnancy(this is in the end dw😅), cunnilingus, oral (both receiving), fighting (talk shit get hit) daddy!kink, praise!kink, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling. Just all around nasty y’all.

Summary: After reader finds her long-term boyfriend in bed with their mutual friend. She moves back into her family home, but under one condition. She has to marry her childhood friend that has been arranged since their childhood. For a wedding gift they go to a mountainous getaway with a group of friends, reader is told that ex and mutual friend get invited, so reader and jk decide to pretend not to know each other to avoid any confusion or miscommunication.

Authors note: Heyyy~ how are you? Welcome back. I’m going to try to release once a day idk yet still trying to figure this app out 😭 I sound old asf bruh but we gone get through it lol. Anyways ENJOY BB🤍

——————————————————————

‘ Oh these bitches got me all the way fucked up’

“well I guess we could go back home for a while. Right my lovelies?” You ask your two afghan hounds, Cleo and Benji. You two babies you’d be damned if you’d let that piece of shit keep them. He can’t even keep himself.

As you drive home you think about what you’re going to say to you parents. You know they’re gonna be upset you left in the first place for someone who had ‘unknown origins’ but you never saw it that way. You really did love him, but you weren’t going to cry over a man. That just wasn’t in you. What would your mother say? You’d rather not think about what you father would say

when you pull up to the security gate the guard is surprised to see you, but none the less let’s you in and quickly gets in the phone. Most likely to tell your parents you were coming up no doubt. “Nothings changed,” you say to yourself as you drive through the landscape up to the manor. As you pull up to the mansion you see you mother running out to great you. “My baby! You’re home! I’ve missed you so much.” Your mother exclaimed as she kisses you all over your face. “Hey mama,” you laugh. “Where’s Dad?” You ask following her into the house. “Oh he’s up int the drawing room right now, he has a guess at the moment. Maybe it’s someone you might remember.” She says smirking to herself. “ I know that look mummy, who’s here?” “An old friends is all I’m going to say,” your mother had a cheeky look on her face when she said that. “Oh you’re up to something weird,” you say to her but ultimately you let it go.

“So are you going to tell you why you’ve come here all of a sudden after no contact for 5 years?” Your mother presses. “I doubt you don’t already know, I know you and daddy have been keeping tags on me since I left.” You answer her as she gives you an innocent face. “I do but I’d like to hear the story from you.” Your mother has been keeping tabs on you since you left, so she definitely knows the whole story. So you tell her everything. What they did and everything they’ve said about you. “Well good thing you didn’t have to deal with trivial matters like that anymore,” she says rolling her eyes at the thought of you ex. “What does that mean momma?” You ask catching the double meaning in her words. “It means you will have a chance to make things right for you and the family reputation.you know what we had to go though and cover up once you left.” She tells you low key reprimanding you at the same time.

*sigh* ”okay momma I’ll do whatever it takes to go back to being the head of the family, and kill those pieces of shit classily.” You tell your mom smirking. Your mom laughs at you change of mood, and leads you to the drawing room where you father is. You hear voices on the other side of the doors besides your fathers. Your mother open the door excited to show your father that you’re back home. When she does you dad looks like he expected to see you on the other side, while he looks at you but you’re focused on the man sitting across from him. “Jungkook,” You breathe out. “Hey y/n long no see,” he says with a breath taking smile. “ welcome home y/n we were actually just talking about you. Before we can accept you back we have one condition.” Your father explains to you. “And what is that daddy?” You ask already having an idea as you continue ti stare at Jungkook. Amazed at how much more mature he’s gotten.

“You have to agree to our previous arrangement, and marry Jungkook.” You father says not wasting anytime. Well at least he welcomed you back. You’d expected him to not speak to acknowledge your existence while you were there. “Okay. I’ll do it.” You rempli to your father watching him stand and make his way over to you. You weren’t expecting him to hug you, but he does. It’s the most loving hug you’ve ever received from you father. ”I’ve missed you babydoll,” he whispers kissing your forehead. “I’ve missed you too daddy,” you say hugging him back trying not to cry.

After a while your mother steps in “I’d hate to break up this touching moment, but we need to get y/n ready for tonight.” You look at her confused “what’s tonight?” “Your engagement party of course!” She says excitedly “why did I think I’d at least have a week to get settled in. You guys already had this planned out didn’t you? I bet you guys called the Jeon family as soon as you found out I was coming right?” You interrogate. Your father chuckles next to you as you look at you parents incredulously. “It was your fathers idea. I said we should wait at least a day.” You mother adds. “ of course it was,” you say as your father looks the other direction with a cheeky smile.

you turn to look at Jungkook who’s been unusually quiet. Watching the scene in front of him. “Were you in on this too?” You ask him looking past your parents. “I actually just found out the moment before you came in,” he responds with a small smile. “But I can say it’s been some of the best news I’ve gotten all week. I really missed you y/n.” He says scratching the nape of his neck. You and Jungkook have been arranged since childhood. He’s always had a crush on you, it broke his heart when you refused to marry him for someone else. But now that he has you he’s not going to let you go again. “I missed you too JK, you’ve grown up so much I barely even recognized you,” you say chuckling. “Yeah I know right. It’s crazy how much people can change over a short amount of time.” He says looking at you with a look you just couldn’t decipher.

Before you could respond you mother cuts in again “Ma fille, we really need to get you ready for tonight. Ah please take her bags up to her room and get her into the proper attire.” You mother asks the head maid. “Oh and burn whatever she’s wearing.” She points at your outfit , covering her face with a look of disgust. “Cheri what is this atrocity you’re wearing. It hurts to look at.” You were wearing white beach shorts, a stripped tee and a green cardigan. It’s not what you were used to wearing when you were home. But it was comfortable and made you stand out less. “Momma it’s not that bad,” you defend. “No babydoll your mothers right. That’s not something anyone in our family would wear, maybe if the cardigan wasn’t the same shade of puke it would pass as inside clothes. No scratch that no one would ever wear that in their entire lives.” You father adds looking slightly disgusted. You look at you parents shocked at them reading you to filth. Behind them you see Jungkook holding his laughter while covering his face. Before you could defend yourself further you’re already being ushered out of the room.

[liaromancewriter]

Hold My Drink

Premise: Bryce and Cassie teach the new intern class a lesson in etiquette.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Characters: Bryce Lahela & F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,135

A/N: For @dr-colossal-pita from @creativepromptsforwriting Drabble list (prompts 56 & 57). Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills. Submission to @choicesmonthlychallenge October prompt "mischief" and @choicesprompts Flufftober prompt "Friendship"

Donahue’s was busier than usual, the music from the jukebox competing with the rattle of balls from the pool table. It was always such on the first night of a new intern class starting residency at nearby Edenbrook Hospital.

Voices rose in excitement, others somewhat raspy from exhaustion after a long fourteen-hour shift. Drinks flowed freely under the dingy neon lights that the owner Reggie insisted added to the ambiance but was likely an attempt at keeping the electricity bill down.

After three years of this, Cassie Valentine could distinguish the newbies from the regulars. Once upon a time, she had been one of them. Finding her way in a new city and job, struggling with her self-esteem and wondering if she’d just made the worst mistake of her life.

She remembered doing tequila shots with her future roommates as they boasted of how they’d take over from the attendings that hadn’t exactly left a good first impression. Now, they were one of the senior physicians charged with molding the next generation of doctors.

Well, she was anyway, Cassie thought smugly with a side-eyed glance at Bryce Lahela, surgeon extraordinaire. He still had a year left in his general surgery residency and likely a few more years after that for specialization.

In what? He hadn’t quite figured it out yet, not that anyone could read the uncertainty in his demeanor, not with an ego the size of Alaska. Cassie was the only one who knew the man behind the carefree mask and his struggles with living up to his own expectations.

So, like any good friend, Cassie took great pleasure in rubbing her success in his face. After all, she was doing exactly what she’d set out to do when she set her sights on Edenbrook and training under Dr. Ethan Ramsey.

She was three years ahead of schedule on account of winning a coveted junior fellowship with his diagnostics team. And three months away from heading up the team.

“This place is a zoo,” Bryce groused as someone bumped into him, causing his beer to splash onto the sanded floor. “Anyway, what was I saying?”

They were standing near the bar, their attempts at securing a booth or a two-top thwarted by the sheer number of people spilling into the bar during Happy Hour.

“You were complaining about the lack of action in your sex life and maybe even shaving your head,” Cassie teased, tipping the beer bottle for a sip.

Bryce nearly choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering as it went down the wrong pipe.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” he glared as Cassie thumped his back. “I’m fairly positive I said Tanaka wants me to focus on what kind of surgeon I want to be and that there might be a trauma fellowship at Mass Kenmore.”

“Not nearly as interesting as your love life, or lack thereof.”

Bryce ran a hand through his hair, the light-brown streaks gleaming under the light, and spread his arms with a grin. “Come on! This body gets plenty of action.”

Cassie was about to continue the smack talk when a group of rowdy residents pushed past them on their way to the bar.

“Hey!” Bryce shouted, grabbing her arm to steady her before she could lose her footing. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Whatever, bruh,” one of them sneered, his words slurring at the edges. He was built like a linebacker, flexing his beefy arms for effect. “Isn't it past your bedtime, pops?”

His friends guffawed and slapped high-fives. Grabbing their drinks, they brushed past them, their crude laughter trailing behind them.

Bryce stared daggers at their retreating backs, correctly guessing they were Ortho Bros—more muscle than sense. He knew most of the orthopedic surgeons at Edenbrook, but this group was new.

His eyes narrowed as they commandeered a dartboard, crowding out another group of interns who had been enjoying a lighthearted game.

Cassie followed his gaze, and a plan began to form. Nothing but total humiliation would do.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked, nudging Bryce, a mischievous gleam in her green eyes.

“I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking,” he shuddered. “You’re scaring me with that look.”

“Come on, Lahela,” Cassie urged, her voice taking on the grim tone of a TV evangelist. “Are you going to let those meathead interns get away with disrespecting us? What’s next? You’ll let them muscle you out of your OR?”

Bryce shook his head at the dramatic declarations, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. Cassie’s competitiveness matched his own, but he’d rather be on this side than facing off against her. She might look like an innocent blonde princess, but she fought dirty.

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and shot her a sideways glance, a glint of amusement in his eyes now. “Let’s teach these Ortho Bros the pecking order at Donahue’s and Edenbrook.”

Cassie smirked as Bryce added an exaggerated swagger to his step as they marched toward the dartboards.

“Yo! Didn’t anyone teach you ‘kids’ to respect your seniors?” Bryce called out.

“Isn’t Dr. Tanaka putting you in charge of the surgical intern OR schedule, Dr. Lahela?” Cassie remarked slowly, her tone sweet as honey. “I don’t know about you, but these four could probably use a time-out before you add them to the board. What do you think? Three months?”

She grinned as the realization dawned on them—they’d just dissed the man who controlled their surgical schedules and access to the OR.

“Six months, minimum,” Bryce nodded, enjoying as their smirks faded into looks of alarm. Surgeons needed to cut. Getting benched for even a day was torture.

“Wait, you’re that Dr. Lahela?” gawked the beefy intern. “You’re the one that performed the extrapleural pneumonectomy solo as a second-year resident?”

“Focus, Bryce,” Cassie whispered sharply out of the corner of her mouth, knowing her friend’s weakness for praise. He’d always loved an audience.

Bryce threw her a frustrated look, his ego fighting with his desire to take the interns down a peg. Cassie was pleased to see that common sense prevailed.

He straightened to his full six-feet-three height and stared down his nose. “Yeah, I’m that Lahela. And if you don’t want your surgical career to go down in a flaming pile of shit after only one day, you’ll check your ‘bruhs’ at the door.”

The Ortho Bros started to apologize, their voices coming out strangled as they tripped over the words while Bryce scowled.

Cassie folded her arms across her chest, her steely-eyed glare mirroring his. She peeked at Bryce and the satisfied grin threatening to break across his lips. He met her look and winked.

Oh, yeah. Annihilation was so much more satisfying than humiliation.

-------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash

@lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect

@queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[antimony-medusa]

The Colour If You Only Knew

The milk would relieve the enchantment effects on him, but Techno had his breath back, and he had something else on his mind. He stared at the immortal handing him things. “Phil, I gave you that book three months ago.” Phil stared back at him, a little indignant. “You said three months!” “No I did not!” Techno waved a hand. “I thought you were gonna take like—two days to read that book, Phil! It’s been like ninety days! I’ve been in jail for three months, you were supposed to hit the stasis pearl like two days later, bro. I almost died!” Phil was shaking his head, eyebrows coming together. “You said three months!” “I did not say three months.” Techno said flatly “Wait wait—“ Phil pressed a hand to his mouth. “Oh my god, you said three days.” “Bruh.” “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Or: After being left in the prison for three months, Technoblade is pretty sure his friends don't care about him any more.

Status: 1/1 chapters, updated 1 June, 5,194 words

Fandom: Dream SMP

Rating: Teen Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Phil Watson | Philza, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Niki | Nihachu & Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza

Tags: Anarchist Syndicate on Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hurt/Comfort, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade25, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Technoblade Has Social Anxiety (Video Blogging RPF)

And here is the other thing I wrote for @voicesfortheblade, some syndicate post-prison hurt-comfort for bleergh234 on twitter! Whew, two fics in one day, I need a nap.

[aluria-sevhex]

posting's been more infrequent because i feel like i've hit a bit of a harder spot with figuring shit out and also have had less mental energy ig :P

update: fuck man it's been like over a week since i intended to post this and i also feel bad for not doing art fight stuffs or working on other projects... what not leaving the house much for a few weeks does to an mf apparently:

[Hi stardust!~ All of the posts in this series can be found in this masterpost and are tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)]

notes:

-i'm back bitch :3

-waiting for it to load and the sweet sweet title theme to hit my ears

-YEAHHHHHHHH

-i always let it finish :3

-time to help everybody

-this time i decided to ask Charline for the book. Odile now thinks Sif is sus! which. yeah.

-"You don't have to remember to yell" :(

-hehe Sif is now asking Loop if they have any theories on the loops

-"Your name is LITERALLY 'Loop'."

-"Don't you 'teehee' me."

-yeah! why don't time freeze skills count as death!

-"what if you loop when something keeps you from advancing?" good theory, but what about the loops where i got stuck in the house on floor 3? i didn't immediately loop back... then again there are the small few-minute loops...

-O_O. HANG OUT WITH LOOP???

-yeah sure i didn't really have any plans for this loop

-i climbed the tree and uh. this music is kinda ominous

-how did Loop 'kind of' know about Sif before they met?

-why did Loop choose to help Sif?

-Loop is stuck with Siffrin... and seems to have been in a time loop before?

-guys i don't think Loop is fine

-yeah Loop tell me about YOU

- >:P

-what'll happen- OH. LOOP. BRUH.

-"it makes you see something, doesn't it?" yeah. "you see a vision of the future"

-Sif is breaking down :(

-SIFFRIN JUST PULLED OUT THEIR DAGGER

-hm. why did i loop if i didn't die?

-aight time to talk to Isabeau

-i love this scene

-...everybody is suspicious of my apparent grace and good attacking skills ._.

-"I'm as tall as you, Mira..."

Mira: looks at their shoes

-funny how Isa's 'worst-case scenario' for uses of Time Craft is... exactly what Siffrin is doing

-inverted Six of Pentacles?

-ah yes. a pit-iful experience

-after i checked the gardening closet, Odile said something's weird...

-checked the book and Isa noticed something off

-i've been trying to make things as suspicious as possible

-hm... what *is* the deal with the book in the secret library? with the tree on the cover and it's in the headache language

-...the book on shields has the weird sugar smell?

-i feel like shields that reflect attacks will become important later

-what if things that have been tampered with all smell like Time Craft? like the various equipment that you can pick up? and that's part of the weirdness?

-sheesh, Tear You Apart is really effective

-bathroom again

-Sif is once again claiming they're fine

-huh. i didn't see the ghost this time

-tried to sharpen the keyknife. Isa made a comment about Sif usually saying something when he sharpens things, but he can't remember

-hm... where would i find carving tools

-"In this moment, you are loved."

"(Because you forced them to.)" FUCK THAT'S. OOF.

-*sighs* time to talk to Euphrasie again

-the others noticed me again...

-"in this moment, she loves you!"

"in this moment, he loves you!"

"in this moment, they love you!"

"in this moment, she loves you!"

FUCK.

-Sif's sad hollow smile and big eye...

-"they all love you!"

"isn't it wonderful"

"you could do this forever!!!"

-"you're happy to have helped everyone become the best versions of themselves again!"

-lol Sif called Loop awkward

-"because you're what's left" of what???

-Sif is level 75 now...

-stopping for now

[laurikarauchscat]

Hiii there! I saw on one of your posts that Emralt was a woah-tp of yours and I was wondering if you had any recs 🥹👉👈. I’ve only read astolat’s stuff and I’ve been dying to find more. I hope you have a wonderful week! ❤️

Bruh you just made my day!

So: Since Emralt is a ship burdened by being rather niche, and had in the past fallen prey to the scorn of fandom morallists, the universe had decided to reward us for our patience and dedication by giving us some of the best writers in fandom.

You can literally just go into the Emhyr/Geralt tag on Ao3 and move from last page (27) foreward. I swear you will find gold on nearly every page. Please please please do that 🙏. I am about to share some of what you have to look forward to, but there are going to be some great works that I miss. Here goes:

Category 1: Bottom Geralt I have a strong preference for subby Emhyr, so the rest of the list is going to be very much that. Nonetheless, these works I loved so much!

The ride into obsession series by @do-androids-dream-ao3acc this author has many works in the fandom - all worth a read. I have been wounded, I have been healed being my favourite.

Dark Mettinna - by Crunad. More Geralt!wump. Very very sweet.

Category 2: fluffy and sweet

Anything by @xpityx (and there are many, bless this writer 🙌) - this one in particular tho. Oohh and this one !!

@traumschwinge has smutty works, and they are veeery hot, but by God, the tenderness is what they do best. This one is my favourite. They also have some wonderful modern Au's 😁. [This one is smutty so should be Cat 3, but again - the sweetness is the draw]

In the footsteps of the Sun - a classic. Oh my god.

what is my body [if it is not a blade] - Geralt accidentally hurts Emhyr. Angst ensues.

Not for Amateurs - old men being stupid.

My fair witcher - fucking hilarious

Category 3: Bottom Emhyr

Is it the blood - emhyr has a gore kink 😁

Royal Grade Secret - features Emhyr who shuts up and does what he is told for once.

Prickly - Emhyr gets turned into a literal hedgehog. It's adorable🤩. Smut in the last chapters (with Human Emhyr!!)

touching the sun - this is part of a slow burn series. Beautiful 😍

wiosna - first part of a recent series that ruled my life for a couple of weeks (holy shit the smut🔥🔥🔥🔥. Holy shit the angst 😭😭😭)

@queenofyumcha has very many smutty wonders. This one is my favourite. Features Omega!Emhyr.

Category 4: In defiance of Category

The Surprise - mpreg!Emhyr. I hope people make this man be pregnant more often in the future 👀

State of mind by @bittersweetbark - this autor also has many works in the fandom, but this one is my favourite. fluffy mystery. Features smut and both Emhyr!wump and Geralt!wump 😈😈😈

--------

I left off soooo many beautiful works 😭😭😭 but I have to go study now!

[shortstrawberry]

Not gonna lie, the whole drama that happened has left me unmotivated to write. And hell, my previous writings weren't even "boundry crossing" by any means. Like bruh, I wrote about Doctor Bela and Professor Donna.

I'm trying to find some inspo for Professor Donna ao3 fanfiction, but I dunno gays. I don't wanna be psychoanalysed as mentally sick or be called having a L opinion or that I'm romanticising toxic relationship just because I like consensual bondage.

(yeah, the reblogs under one of my posts were pretty bad. Also some posts that travelled around in RL tag)

So yeah. That's it. Not feeling it.

Also, I thank the reblogs and comments that came to support. Thnx.

[captainnait]

(Decided to reuploded this post because literally no one saw it. . . Oh well. Might as well tag @whocaresifwearecrazy since they could be interested in this idk)

Something that literally no one asked for - a TTwM compilation!!

I enjoyed gathering all the questions for this one. I'm not sure if I found *all* of them, but. . . Yeah. Some clips (4 out of 13) aren't mine, so I left the source in the description.

Also I wrote a little analysis/commentary thingy for all of these, which you can read down below. It's mostly just me rambling about Bob and Milan and how stupid these two are, so don't take it too seriously. I just— I just need to get this off my chest, okay 😭 also sorry for the broken english in some of these. I was half-awake when writing lol

Anyway, would really appreciate if you watch this compilation. I might do some others in the future idk. Enjoy 💖💥

As for commentary, here it is ✨

"Ode to a Garbage Can": I put this one first in the compilation, because (imo) it shows Bob's and Milan's overall dynamic perfectly - Bob tries to be as positive and supportive of Milan as he can (although with a mild success), while Milan. . . Well, he's just being himself - extremely forward and harsh, but, in the end, not minding Bob's attitude, and even engaging in a playful back-and-forth with him. It's simple, it's nice and it's going to be a repeating pattern.

. . . Aaand it's probably the most analytical I'm going to get here. Probably.

Anyway, can't say much else about this one. They're silly

"A Crappy Question": Bob here sounds so genuinely guilty 😭. And the fact that he immediately tries to make up by helping Milan with his classes— it's pretty wholesome. . . Milan slapping the living shit out of him in the end isn't tho lol

"Get Your Finger Out of Your Nose": Milan calling out Bob on literally anything is also the main point of a lot of these. And, tbh, if I worked as a janitor somewhere, where mfs like any of ydkj hosts work, I wouldn't be so happy either bruh

Anyhow, the gross out humor in the end is nothing unusual for this game. But damn, the way Milan said "chucklehead" at the end. . . He loves that idiot I'm sorry 💥💥💥

"Urinal Chips and Dip": Bob being an idiot and getting what he deserves will NEVER not be funny to me

"Wait a minute, is this a trick question? 😠" "For you? Yes 🙄" I can't with them—

Also Milan helping Bob out a bit at the end was surprisingly nice. . . And uncommon too

"Swapping Spit": Milan calling Bob "host boy" at the start caught me off guard completely when I first heard it. And yet, somehow, he gets even more wild with the nicknames later on in the other questions lol

"Moron? Hey! >:[" Bob sounds so hurt here 😭 i like to imagine that before that he wasn't catching any insults from Milan at all up until this point. He's clueless like that

"Ugh, Milan! Why do you say things like that?" "To make you blush" Okay that's just straight up flirting—

Also Bob doesn't sound so opposed to that huh. . . Interesting. I wonder when this is going to come up again—

"Things Nobody Wants To Lick": OKAY FUCK I'M SORRY THIS ONE IS JUST INSANE. MILAN JUST CASUALLY RIPS HIS SHIRT AND SAY TO "LICK UNDERNEATH HIS SWEATY ARMPIT"? AND NOT ONLY BOB IS IMPRESSED WITH MILAN'S BODY (as he says himself), HE ALSO ISN'T OPPOSED TO HIS REQUEST IN THE END (even though it wasn't even addressed to him btw)? AND EVEN ADVICES TO SAY "THANK YOU!" AFTER THE PROCESS?? HELLO?? WHY SO 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂? WHY NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT—

Ahem. Anyway, "Bob-friend" is such a great nickname, 10/10, amazing job, Milan.

Bob's "MILAN! WHAT? 😨😳" is literally my favorite thing ever

"Please? Look, begging is not gonna help, my friend" yup, I figured

(I'm not even going to comment on the last few lines lol this is already too much)

"Seven Minutes in the Broom Closet": And just when you think it can't get gayer than the last one. . . This title. What the fuck are they doing in the closet—

Bob mistaking alliteration with liter is just so him

"Haha, you said pee :D" this man literally has a mind/humor of a toddler

And yeah, Milan leaving Bob confused with his words/sayings is. Everything

"I'm Not Your Chew Toy": I'm pretty sure this is the shortest question in this category in terms of dialogue

I love that this one highlights just how patient can Bob be with Milan's rather snappy attitude (which, to be fair, is pretty reasonable for him to have)

"Gift Ideas from the Bathroom": This one. This is my favorite question in the whole game probably. . .

Milan calling Bob "Robert" (which continues running joke of Milan calling Bob different nicknames). Milan sharing his collection with Bob, who seems to be not only interested in it, but also wants to implement it in the question. Bob being a clumsy ass moron and dropping the jar, with Milan following with his (almost) catchphrase "I'm not cleaning that". Milan sharing his culture with Bob and feeding him a homemade soup, with Bob being absolutely joyful and excited to learn new things from his favorite person (while also being taken care of by said person). Milan's little "jerk" at the end, that sounds just a bit too soft to sound like an actual insult, and more like an affectionate pet name. I love this. This is amazing. If this isn't not one of the most wholesome moments in ydkj series, idk what is tbh

"Little Red Outhouse": "Hey Milan, how you doing? Good to see ya 😁" "It's a pleasure for you to see me 😇" "Yeah, i— Uh what? 🤨" This is one of my favorite exchanges between them. Milan has such a way with words sometimes idk. . .

Not much to say about this one, except the fact, that Milan washes Bob's microphone in the toilet bowl, becomes much more disgusting when you know, that in one of the questions Bob smooches his microphone. You're welcome 😇

"It Happens to the Best of Us": Crying Milan is the last thing I expected from this game, but here we are ig. As much as I feel sad for him, I can't deny that his crying voice is incredibly stupid (/pos)

"It was a horribly sad incident which took place today" I like how even when he's distraught he still tries to flex his english skills. What a king

The way Bob instantly goes "yes sir" right after Milan tells him to shut up is just. . . 😭 no comments

"Don't Forget to Wipe": Ah yes, the one where Milan blackmails Bob. Anyway

"Hm, would you like to know" THE WAY HE SOUNDS HERE I— 💥💥

Also the way Milan interrogates Bob here is just so funny to me. He's like an annoyed and slightly disappointed owner that find out his dog made a mess in the living room again. . . Weird comparison, but oh well (I've been writing this commentary for way to long)

"There's a Swosh™ on My Tush": I love this one. Mf just plays basketball in the middle of his work day and that's it. No disgusting twist, just basketball

. . . Well, except the last few seconds, where Bob straight up drools on Milan's shoes. . . Like a dog—

Okay, nah, that's it, that enough of these guys for me today istg