#i have a time lapse i will post soon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

apompkwrites · 6 months ago

Text

the school-bound kingscholar || leona kingscholar

masterlist characters: Mwezi Miji Trio (OCs), Leona, Ruggie (platonic) genre: Angst contains: (Brief) Swearing, Possible OOC moments (depending on how you view Leona and Ruggie [mainly Leona]) summary: Following the admittance of Night Raven College's newest freshmen, both Kingscholars begin to come to terms with the newest changes in their lives. notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING AGAIN OTZ. Unfortunately, my lapses of writer's block and demotivation have only increased since I last posted. I'm trying to get back into the hang of posting things (as evident by my art account suddenly coming alive again). ALSO! As you can tell by the formatting, I'm actually writing with proper grammar on Tumblr now! Right now, I don't plan to go back to reformat the older chapters, but maybe once I find the drive to do it, I will! Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with me, I really appreciate it <3 parts:��[og post] | [previous] | [next]

Leona felt something knock the air out of his lungs. To Ruggie, who stood right beside him in a robe that was a few inches too long, it was hilarious. Seeing the very prince (well, second prince) of the Afterglow Savanna lose his composure was enough to make Ruggie let out a quiet "Shyeheehee" under his breath before he ultimately straightened his posture under Leona's pointed glare.

Nothing could have prepared Leona to see (Name) again. Honestly, he had long since come to terms with the fact that his little sibling was missing, lost to the Outlands and likely a rotting corpse in the middle of nowhere.

He's lying, he could never come to terms with that, no matter how much he deluded himself.

But they were here. They were here and they were walking closer and they looked exactly the same as he remembered them.

Well, obviously, not exactly. But they looked so familiar and yet so different at the same time. Leona didn't even notice the tip of his tail swishing behind him until he heard one of his dorm members complaining about a tickling sensation against his ankles. And that only caused Leona to grumble under his breath and snatch the base of his tail to stop it from moving.

By the Seven, had they changed. They seemed bolder and more confident compared to the last time he had seen them. The way their shoulders were no longer hunched forward and instead rolled back in a pride strut he wished he could attribute to someone who had come to accept their own status or the way their eyes seemed sharper rather than soft and wide with innocence. And their hands. By the gods, what happened to their hands...? No, they had changed severely, akin to the way Leona recalled seeing the royal guards before and after their training.

Something had happened, that much he could figure out. And as much as he wanted to advance the board, reach out, and capture them like a king in a game of chess, he couldn't. Not when they were surrounded by a queen and two rooks.

"Ignore him," Nuru advised, although his words were more of a formality if anything. He knew how well you could handle yourself, but this was a unique situation.

"I know," you replied curtly, flipping your hood back on and sidling up to Nuru's right side. Jabori immediately flanked your other side in turn, followed by Jabali. It was a familiar formation, one that the four of you had cultivated for as long as you could remember.

"It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would," you whisper. However, the sharp pain lingering in your chest said otherwise.

Student after student soon began trickling out of each coffin, repeating the painstaking process of standing in front of the mirror, listening to its spiel about their innermost workings, before joining whatever dorm they were assigned to. Until finally, finally--

"We're done with orientation and dorm assignments?" One of the hooded figures lamented, his hand perched prim and properly on his hip. If you didn't any better, you'd assume that he was royalty or nobility. But, judging from his scent alone, he wasn't.

"Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever," Leona yawned, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he turned on his heels, facing the mass of hooded figures now under his care. "I'm going back to the dorm. If you're in Savanaclaw House, follow me."

He went to take a step amidst the other chattering dorm leaders before the doors slammed open, the handles banging against the wall from the force at which it swung. Leona groaned in response, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Psst, Nuru," Jabali called from his spot beside Jabori, leaning forward to actually see him. "Are you sure this is the right place? We're actually supposed to find answers from..."

Jabali paused and motioned out towards the commotion now terrorizing the mirror chamber. The little gray cat scampered around the floor, setting fire to whatever he could in some strange show of physical prowess and magical ability. "...These people?!"

Nuru said nothing at first. From where you stood beside him, you could tell doubt was beginning to creep up behind him. Lucky for him, Jabori decided to take the lead.

"This is Night Raven College," he points out, pulling back the hood of his robe by a hair to peer over at his twin. "Pretty much everyone here, especially the dorm leaders, are adept at some kind of magic. I mean, look."

This time, Jabori pointed towards the commotion, his finger following the way that the redhead shot a spell in the cat's direction, materializing a red and black collar around its neck.

"It's the best shot we have," he concludes, nodding in support of Nuru. That single gesture instantly calmed Nuru down, his shoulders no longer hunched up and his wings relaxing behind him. You merely smiled and patted his forearm in response. Jabali, on the other hand, grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms in begrudging compliance.

"Fine. But I'm not gonna get along with 'em or nothin'," Jabali huffed, rolling his eyes. Jabori laughed lightly at his brother's annoyance while Nuru let out a single huff of air.

"I wasn't gonna ask you too, either," Nuru hummed, glancing at Jabali from his peripheral. "Same goes for both of you, (Name), Jabori."

"Copy that," you nodded, the quiet chuckle that seemed to bubble from your throat disappearing the second Leona turned to face you and the rest of the new Savanaclaw members.

"You heard the headmage. I'm headin' back," Leona grumbled and, without missing a beat, brushed past the crowd and headed towards the door. Another hooded figure, one who had been standing beside Leona the entire ceremony, let out an exasperated sigh before raising his hand.

"Savanaclaw! Follow me," he ordered, earning a few half-hearted "Yes, sir"s from the rest of the huddled crowd.

You had to admit, it was pretty entertaining watching Jabali and Jabori marvel at the size of the campus halls. And Nuru too, if only he'd have more obvious reactions rather than just a single flick of a wing or a tilt of the head.

While the halls were nothing compared to the Kingscholar home, it was still pretty big. If you were any smaller than you were now, you'd probably react the same way.

"No way they need these doors to be this big," Jabali murmured, lightly elbowing your arm and pointing at one of the classroom doors. Your eyes followed his finger and a snicker managed to escape you. He wasn't wrong, those doors were freakishly huge, both in height and width.

Jabali went to comment on something else before he stopped, his eyes drifting over toward the new mirror chamber everyone had been led to. The doors were held open to accommodate the crowd, letting handfuls of students walk towards a mirror and get sucked into it, the glass rippling as if took wisps of bodies and left nothing in its wake.

"Savanaclaw House! This'll be your only way in and out of the dorm," the same hooded figure that led you all here called out. He had hopped up onto the lip of the mirror's decoration, using one of the rib-like sculptures as an armrest.

"Hurry up and get in! The faster you do, the faster you'll get to claim your rooms," he snickered before skipping ahead of the first dorm member and hopping into the mirror.

The prospect of first come first served seemed to spur on the first years, causing a near stampede of people trying to get into the mirror first. Nuru hooked an arm around your waist while Jabali did the same with Jabori, the two of them finding a single break in the crowd to get away, Nuru through flight, and Jabali through scaling one of the pillars by the wall.

Lucky for the four of you, the mirror seemed to accommodate more and more people as the crowd diminished. Perhaps through how many bodies reached a specific threshold, you thought. Regardless of the magical mechanics, it allowed Nuru and Jabali to let you and Jabori down after a few minutes.

"So many people," you grumbled under your breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Jabori. Nuru and Jabali nodded at your observation before the four of you hopped into the mirror yourselves.

Immediately, the four of you felt the familiar searing heat of the sun beating down on your skin. It almost felt like home if not for the increased heat coming from the fire serving as lights just outside the dorm's entrance.

Jabali and Nuru were the first to shrug off their robes, the former because he finally had enough of the stuffy fabric, and the latter because the heat was already starting to congregate around his feathers. You and Jabori followed suit, although the two of you merely hiked up your sleeves and flipped down your hoods.

Nuru shook out his wings and let out a soft grunt, one of his feathers falling into the sand beneath your feet. Turning to look over his shoulder, he shot the three of you a soft, almost comforting smile.

"Off we go, then," he hums, waving for you all to follow. If it were anyone else, you three probably would've found offense to a command as expectant as that. But it wasn't just anyone else. It was Nuru, the Guardian, and your dear friend.

The inside of Savanclaw was nothing really to marvel at like the rest of the school's campus. It wasn't cramped, per se, but it was quite a bit more tight than to your liking. Luckily, the walkway opened up the building quite a bit with the roped bridges connecting each floor.

Nuru scanned the room for a moment before his eyes landed on a room on the top floor, tucked all the way in the furthest corner. You figured everyone else left it since it was so far and their mentalities were focusing on that first come first served promise your leader from before declared.

Nuru unfurled his wings and shot up past the bridges, making a beeline towards the unoccupied room. He didn't have to go that fast, of course, considering only a few students were lingering in the walkways who sure as hell weren't planning on making the long walk up there.

Jabali seemed to share their sentiment considering his frustrated "Damn it, Nuru" muttered under his breath. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips before he trudged up along the nearest bridge, his hands shoved in his pockets and his robe slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

You and Jabori took a more relaxed walk up behind him, appreciating the familiar decorations that reminded you of your hometown. Of course, that appreciation turned into apprehension at the thought of Mwezi Miji now being unguarded by the main four.

What if something happened? What if they had sent word of an all-out war between themselves and the Dens and you hadn't heard of it since you all were knocked out in coffins? What if they were all already--

"On your right," Nuru called to you from the doorway, his hand shooting out to grab your shoulder. Ah, you had gotten distracted. Nuru shot you a concerned glance, his brows furrowed in the same way they always were when you got stuck in your head before he ushered you into the room.

Jabali and Jabori had already claimed their beds on the left side of the room, Jabali near the door and Jabori near the window. This left the entire right side open for you and Nuru.

The winged beastman glanced over at you, patiently waiting for your next move. You caught his glance and mustered up a small smile before heading towards the bed closest to the door. Nuru subtly lit up at your decision, a little skip in his step as he moved towards the window.

You managed to hold back a snort at his hidden excitement. He always loved the window spot. Maybe it reminded him of when he was small enough to fit through them back home.

"So, what's up with you and that new first year, huh?" Ruggie huffed as he walked straight into Leona's room, leaning down to pick up a discarded shirt and dropping it in the laundry basket. "I've never seen you react that way other than with them."

"Watch your words, Ruggie," Leona growls from the bed, his head already buried in his pillow. His back was facing Ruggie who still stood in the doorway, but with the way his ears were perked up, it was fairly obvious that he wasn't even close to sleeping.

"My bad," Ruggie snicked in response, holding up his hands defensively. "But, seriously, who was that? Someone I need to watch the pockets of? I mean, who else would it be if not roy--"

"Out," Leona demanded, his hand latching onto his pillow and launching it backward at Ruggie, the soft fabric turning into dust and scattering across the floor as he muttered the incantation under his breath. Ruggie yelped and scampered out of the room, throwing the door closed behind him before he could see the pillow disintegrate into sand.

Leona took a single breath through his nose before slowly sitting up. He rubbed at his face before reaching over to the desk placed beside his bed, his fingers curling around the drawer's handle and pulling it open.

Underneath notebooks thrown carelessly inside lay a single photograph. It was small, yet free of any creases. He lifted the books off of it before slipping the photo out, nearly cradling it in his palm.

Back when he first found the photo tucked neatly in one of his notebooks, he grimaced. It was an annoying keepsake, one that only served to remind him of the bothersome family waiting for him back home. But now...

Now the sight of his little sibling smiling ever so brightly while his older brother screamed in the background about a bug in his hair brought the smallest twitch of a smile to his lips.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @kenma-izhu @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @dindarasuum @elizaboba @ravenlking @reveristmain @lasignoramybeloved @poto-de-michi @sherryuki-callmeyuki @cadit-in-aestus-sidereum @valeriele3 @munchkinkazooie @venusdandy @Leviathansgamerbuddy @poorunfortunatesimp @yarnoverpullthru @potablee @sunnydaze4ever @anxious-chick @silvers-tongue @minteaspoon @kitty-chan33 @hornehlittleweeblet2 @letskeepitsimpleshallwe @atsuki-mitsuri @catgirlwannabe @miss-puregotti @havens-not-here @sacrificialwife1 @cherrykissesss890 @a-random-bored-person @shuriiiewrites @chaos-inperson @1midnightcoffee @mizucika @lunavixia @gasoline-eater @thesirenwashere @rainingdandelion @thomanok @BakabaneSimp @mariesakamari @steruberry @potatohuman04 @illnesscomm @blu3b3rri-p4yn3 @kahunap @turtleducker @BooPleg03 @twst-rui @rotting-nerium @devilfishcafe @marisely03 @angelthoughtz @valka-230 @kih-lux @honestlyyoungcandy

296 notes · View notes

sameschmidtdiffname · 10 months ago

Text

Tumblr WILL NOT let me post the fic and this ask at the same time and I've tried legit five times. So THANK YOU anon for the request and I'm sorry for the weirdness in uploading. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this!

My Ghost.

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: You don't know what happened that night. Things were fine, life was good, then your partner is on the news for all sorts of shit you never would've thought him capable of the day prior. He was dead, he was evil, and you were trying to move on. But what's the proper etiquette when the dead show up on your door unannounced?

Tags: No use of Y/N, hurt/comfort, fake death, mentions of drinking, drug use/dealing, grieving, arguing, cursing, flashbacks, brief suggestive scenes, suicidal thoughts.

Other Works in This Series: 'Repentance' (Prequel to 'My Ghost') • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: The way I've been trying to upload this for two hours. Oh my fucking God. Anyways, everyone say thank you to anon for getting me to write something that doesn't make God cry.

-¤°》◇《°¤-

I'm not hard to please, but I'm not desperate despite what the rumors may say.

People enjoy gossip. People who don't know fuck all about you. And my standards are fine. Were fine. And I don't mean standards such as 'buys me flowers everyday' or 'doesn't deal coke.' I mean standards such as 'is a decent fucking person.'

"That's what I thought you were up until all of this fucking... disappearing for months!" I scream, anger fueling me. I don't let the other emotions win out, don't let them have a say. Because if I do, I'll be too conflicted and overwhelmed and then I'm gonna cry, and that's not fair.

People had warned me he was trouble. Terms such as 'wannabe cowboy,' 'rebel without a cause' were tossed around in warning. But to me, he was just Billy.

Then he was dead.

Now, he was here. He showed up at my door nine months after leaving me with a small little keychain on the kitchen table and a soft kiss on my forehead, saying he had some plans for that evening. But he'll be back soon.

Then he was on the news. And a gas station blew up. Gangs, stolen vehicles. He was probably dead. Things would be easier if he was dead.

Fine. Maybe I initially ignored warning signs. Maybe I was distracted by his handsome side profile, too busy admiring his nose to notice the occasions it was dusted with the trace of a fine powder. Maybe his hands were too beautiful for me to realize they were slipping money to men in dark jackets when we went out to the rougher parts of town. But he was mine and I was his, and overall he was a good person.

He was alive. He was alive and I was mad because if he was dead then at least it would be valid that for nine months I have had to deal with the accusatory stares of our neighbors assuming I knew, the pity from my loved ones, and the betrayel that kept me awake at night. It would mean he hadn't left me to deal with his repercussions, that maybe there was a valid excuse. An undiagnosed brain tumor that finally gave way to insanity, a gun to his head. Something that was not the worst case scenario of just... being an awful person. I could let his things rest around the house undisturbed, hiding from the world and waiting to find the courage to join him one day and living in denial in the meantime. What the fuck was all of this?

"I couldn't tell you," he keeps saying. "It was better if you knew nothing until I was sure I could come get you."

"Why didn't you just take me with you from the start?" I ask. I've been pacing the floor for the past twenty minutes ever since he showed up. It was better than throwing every breakable object in the cheap, worn down shack of a house at him, which was my second instinct. My first was to pull him into my arms, draw the curtains shut and hide him away so that he'll never leave again. Like an idiot.

He laughs bitterly. "You would not be asking that if you knew what the fuck I went through," he says. His words sound like they should be angry, but there's this lightness to them like he can't let himself think too much about it. It just makes me angrier.

"Don't fucking laugh!" I snap. "Do you think any of this is funny?"

"I think you're funny when you're mad," he deflects, smiling. "You got this whole routine. Pacing, nose twitching. I like the Shirley Temple stomps, like you're a kid."

I groan loudly, the noise almost sounding like a low scream in my throat.

"You owed money to fucking- who?" I yell.

"The details don't matter-"

"When I have been grieving your death for nine months, they fucking matter!" I snap. His brows furrow, his hands mid air as if to say 'the fuck did I do?'

"You know me, okay? I don't get caught," he says as though it were obvious.

"I know fucking nothing!" I practically scream.

When we met he was just a guy at a bar, handsome, wearing that same ridiculous jacket that I couldn't help but stroke the white fluff on, tequila running through my veins.

"Can I help you?" He asked, smirking.

"Just wanted to see what it felt like," I said.

"Wanna feel something else?" He asked, his chin resting on his head.

"Oh, fucking gross. Fuck o-"

"I was talking about this," he said, whipping out his keys to show off an odd, weirdly shaped keychain with short, stiff fuzz. "Don't call me a pervert just cause you're one."

He was smiling. It was an easy smile. Careless, happy with life. I loved that smile. It meant things were always alright as long as he was smiling.

He was smiling on the photo they used for the manhunt.

We'd danced the whole night. He didn't know hardly any of the songs, causing him to be off beat. I was too drunk to keep time, so I stepped on his leather boots enough times there was a visible scuff on the top of one by the end of the night. I always felt bad, offering to replace or help pay to fix it. He wouldn't let me.

"They're a keepsake," he'd insist. "A living memory." He wore them everyday.

He's wearing sneakers, today.

At the end of the night, I stumbled out of the bar with a note in my coat pocket. It took two weeks for me to wear that coat again, and when I found the slip I'd almost thrown it away, assuming it was something dumb. But when I saw the worst handwriting in the world displaying a number belonging to someone named 'Keychain Guy,' I almost couldn't wait to call.

"Bullshit," Billy snaps. "You know me better than anyone."

"Don't say that," I say, putting a hand out protectively to keep him away. "That's exactly why everyone thinks I was just fine with that whole- fucked up thing!"

A gas station burned. A stolen vehicle. People were dead. People were dead.

Billy was presumed dead.

There was no funeral. He had no family, and none of mine wanted to put money into something that would be protested by the whole town anyways. No body to bury, nothing to do but gather up his things and smoke what remained in his stash until people came to nurse me back to life. By that point there wasn't even relief in drugs. The taste simply reminded me of better times cooking in the kitchen as we blew the smoke into each others faces, or worse. Better. Whatever.

I never questioned when Billy went out of town. I knew his work had details I didn't want nor need to know. Money was tight. But Billy always came home with little things whenever he went on unexpected trips. Knick knacks, snacks, some item I'd seen at the store and picked up to make a comment about. Had he been particularly forthcoming about his dealing when we started dating? No. He said he worked for a local small business, which technically isn't untrue. But about six months in, he was the one who approached me and sat me down at the small, rickty round table to tell me the truth. And that's what mattered to me. The economy is shit and it's not like it was meth, so who am I to judge?

About a year into it, I was begging for him to do something else.

"I don't like you disappearing," I told him. "I'm scared one day you're gonna piss someone off and that'll be the end. Then what am I gonna do?"

"Then you're gonna make sure they don't fuck up my face during the embalming process for the funeral," Billy said around his hand rolled cigarette. I whip the small dish towel at him, making him laugh and protect his small ashtray that I made him for Christmas the year prior. It was shitty, uneven, and I'm 99% sure a fire hazard. But he wouldn't use any other ones unless I was the one who bought them for him, and even then he favored this one. 'When this place goes up in flames,' I thought, 'I'll regret that gift.'

I'd kept it by the kitchen window every day since he'd died. "Died." It was his spot.

He moves to sit there now, looking in his pockets for the small box of prerolled cigarettes.

"People know you weren't involved," he says dismissively.

"Your friends know. What about the old ladies at church? The checkout clerks at the store? How about the fucking mailman?" I shout, convinced I'm still talking to the dead. "You think they know the ins and outs of the local psychos support group?" I ask, gesturing and stepping closer.

I was the local outcast now. Not to be trusted, not worth kindness. Shame was my title, and when Billy appeared on my doorstep at an hour where only I was awake I was sure I'd caught the same awful disease that must have been what sent him spiraling that winter day. It wasn't until he pushed the door open fully, taking me into his arms and pressing a warm kiss to my lips that I knew he was real. It was a feeling I was in the early stages of forgetting, blurry and cold. But here he was, the stubble on his chin a bit longer and his ears missing the small hoops that had glittered in the sunlight when he walked out the door.

Then I'd pushed him away. And the fight began.

"I'm not a fucking psycho," he argues. His hands pat around his outfit, searching. "You got a lighter?"

"Fuck off." I kept his favorite in my left pocket. I had to be careful what things of his I wore or kept on my person. People close to me knew I would have never condoned his actions, but even they had glared at me in the early wake of Billy's death when I dared to wear one of his shirts out of the house, or more commonly one of his thick leather jackets. But a lighter can be hidden, and unless you had borrowed it you wouldn't know it had specifically been his. So I kept it with me all the time, just feeling it next to my skin with the only barrier being the fabric of my pocket. Without a thought, I cover the small item as though he can see right through me. Picking up on the hint, he's rises from the table and begins walking over to me.

"Don't be a dick, just let me borrow it," he says, holding out his hand.

"Fuck off," I snap.

"You've said that. I just need it for two seconds," he says as his hands begin to gently grab at me, one on my shoulder and the other dipping into my pocket.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I yell, slapping at him.

"Just let me have-"

He cuts himself off as he pulls out the lighter from my pocket, his thumb grazing over the printed picture. The Statue of David. He'd bought because it made us laugh. One side was the regular statue, the other a close up of its small genitals with cursive writing underneath spelling the art piece's name.

"Oh," Billy says quietly.

We stand for a moment, silent. He doesn't seem sure what to do. My lungs burn with unheaved sobs. I fucking hate this.

"You were gonna come back," I finally say quietly. I hate how my voice sounds when I'm upset. I hate that I'm wearing his dogtag, an item he'd bought at a World War II museum in middle school that he gave me for our first Christmas because we were both too broke to actually buy each other anything, hence the poorly made ashtray. I hate that when I sleep at night it's in his clothes that I rarely wash because the idea of losing his smell makes me want to scream. I hate that his scent is different from the bottle of cologne he kept next to my makeup, one time spilling all over the entire bathroom counter because we'd gotten too wrapped up in each other, dragging our nails down each others backs and watching ourselves in the mirror until one wrong move of my hand revealed he'd been a bit too careless about screwing the lid back on earlier in the day. I'd always warned him about that.

I'd been in the bathroom putting on my permanently scented blush when I got the text.

"I was going to," he said softly. "Then I couldn't."

"So what?" I say, not daring to turn and face him, choosing instead to stare at where the cheap, old wood paneling of the wall meets the shaggy, stained carpet that you have to wear shoes on due to the staples that have begun sticking out of it. "You just propose to someone and then pretend to die?"

Valentines Day was an awfully cheesy day to do it. So it's a good thing it was a technicality.

The day had been lovely. Billy had saved up a little to take me to a local hibachi place, telling me to wear my best outfit and jewelry. It was slightly overkill, but it's the small things in life, isn't it?

We'd come home with a bottle of wine, a low budget movie to ignore and hands searching desperately for each other.

"I love you," he'd said between pants. "You're mine."

"Buy a ring," I'd dared. Our minds were buzzed, the bottle half empty and our clothes thrown away without care. Took me weeks to find his both of his socks.

I hadn't meant for him to take it seriously. But I guess he decided it was time.

Two days later I thought it was odd when he walked into the house with my favorite lunch. It wasn't expensive really, we just usually got it for special occasions or days that had been mentally harder for me. And things were normal that day. I was getting ready for my shift, running around like I always do trying to make sure I've got everything.

"Your coffee's in the cup, will you just sit down?" He laughed, watching me. I quickly collected the take out box, sipping my coffee and wincing over its temperature.

"Fuck, that burns," I cursed. He wrapped his arms around me, trying to get me to sit at the table. "Baby, I can't," I protested softly, but I was laughing. He was peppering me in kisses, giving me those big puppy dog eyes everyone knew were my weakness. He wanted for nothing so long as he looked at me just like that.

"Just this once," he asked, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I couldn't help the blush and giggle that rose from me, but I also couldn't be late.

"I'll make up for it," I promised, slipping away and running into the bedroom to get my shoes. When I ran back in, pulling them on and coming to kiss him goodbye, I nearly fell over when I saw him on one knee, smiling and looking at me like 'I told you so.'

I don't like how itchy the ring feels on my middle finger as I twirl it in thought.

"You don't know what happened," he pleaded, his hands still on me. "If you would just listen to me-"

"The news gave a pretty good description, William. I don't think there's missing pieces in my head, unlike you," I say coldly, detaching from myself so to not have to deal with my emotions. This makes him stiffen, pulling away and resuming his place at the kitchen table, lighting his cigarette and placing the ashtray in front of him like nothing has changed when everything has.

It feels like I'm out of time. Like I've been shoved into a picture of what my life looked like before. Except the house was never this clean, clothes always scattered about. Not just in a fit of passion, we just had bad habits when it came to picking up. Billy would always say the chairs are more decorations then they are seats, anyways. "Why would you use those when you have such a nice seat here?" He'd ask, wiggling his hips and placing his hands behind his head, making me laugh.

Billy never looked so well put together in the house, usually in a wife beater and his hair framing his face. He'd always joked he looked like a dirty hippie around me, and I'd always show him how much I liked that. Not that he looked fantastic now. When we went out he was known for putting in effort. He always had more hair products than me, which I found funny. Though he refused makeup. Once I'd managed to talk him into eyeliner. 'Guyliner' I'd teased. He liked it, but said it should stay between us with a wink before asking where to get dinner. Now he sits before me in clothes obviously stolen to help him look unremarkable, his hair shaggy and uncut, so different from the man I loved.

"Who are you?" I asked him. That man didn't shrink away from accountability.

He sighed, smoke swirling around him as he wipes his face with his hand.

"I don't know. Can't tell if I'm better or worse, to be honest," he admits softly. His eyes look haunted, heavy bags underneath. It's the way his shoulders sag as though his will to go on is slowly draining from him in this very moment that makes me want to break now. Like whatever reason he had for still going was fruitless.

I didn't like the way we mirrored each other like this.

I slowly scuff my feet towards him, tapping my fingers against the back of the wooden chair before pulling it out to sit across from him. It's a start.

"So if you tell me," I say slowly. "Am I going to wish you were dead?"

He doesn't look at me. "I don't know."

Great.

The night is long. Morning comes without an invitation, the blue sky beginning to glow through the shitty blinders I always told Billy we should replace one day. I understand less than when we started, we've both cried more than once, and between our fingers is cigarette stubs and the feeling of each others skin, hands laced together as though another click of an old remote to an outdated TV with batteries you had to rub against your shirt to make work would reveal the smouldering remains of a gas station, displaying the estimated body count and deeming one of us as a devil of the worst kind, ripping us apart.

"Jesus," I say when it's over.

"Yeah," he says. "So, needless to say, my anxiety is shit now."

It isn't funny. It's a tragic statement. But when we both glance into the others eyes, it's his small little smirk that makes me laugh like I haven't since my mother sent me the local news report with his picture covering the front page. The same one that shows everything is still okay.

"I'm sorry," I say. Then the laughing turns into sobbing, and then I can't breathe. And I really am sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't help him. I'm sorry he went out on a romantic whim and borrowed money he shouldn't have for the ring I was too ashamed to wear on the proper finger. I'm sorry he couldn't come back for me. And I'm sorry for hating him when he showed up unannounced at my door.

"Hey," he says gently, standing and crossing to me, removing his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders to comfort me. It's unfamiliar, evidence of a life he wouldn't have led if he had just stayed by me and it upsets me, but his lips against my wet cheeks ground me, familiar and soothing me, coaxing me into wrapping my arms around him, clawing my trembling fingers through his hair. Still soft. Still combed.

"You can't stay here," I choke out.

"I know," he says quietly. There's nothing for a long time, our bodies shaking as we cling to each other. In our arms are the unspoken months of grief. Of his longing for our home, of my insanity. Death looms over the furniture, light hidden away lest it take away my sacred treasures I'd used to keep his spirit close to me.

"I can't lose you again," I say.

"I know," he says, smelling my hair and placing a soft kiss on top of my head. "But I can't promise stability if you follow me."

My brows furrow, my mind racing in confusion, my hopes rising. Follow?

"I know a guy," he says quickly, his arms tighter as if scared I'll turn away. "Says he can get me a new identity and a one way ticket to somewhere. I don't know where yet, but it's worth a try."

My fingers trace his back, swirling invisible patterns over his shirt. He'd always liked that after a rough day. I can feel the tension begin to slowly fall away from him at the contact, his breathing growing deeper and more steady. "And you want me to come?"

"Need," he corrects. "I don't regret leaving you, but I can't stay away. Even if it's more kind to let you mourn and find a better life."

A new life. A new identity. New name, new everything.

Maybe I am insane. Maybe this exactly the kind of mental break Billy had that day. Maybe I was doomed to follow his spirit no matter what. Maybe this is a second chance. Maybe God had granted me a mercy I'll never be able to repay, no matter how many night I spend in worship at a church or between this man's legs. Maybe I'd spend every day looking over my shoulder, paranoid and eventually turning cruel to strangers so to keep this one person everyone told me to let go of from the very beginning.

But the same Billy.

"Can he do a marriage license?" I ask after a long silence. I can hear him laugh, pulling away to look at me.

"That eager?" He asks softly, his eyes gentle, thumb stroking my cheek. I lean into his touch, softly placing a kiss on his palm.

▪︎》◇《▪︎

"Well," I say, "I already have the ring."

Masterlist

As cute as this was, please have better standards than the Reader I wrote in this fic. No man is worth that. I am DEADASS. Anyways, love y'all <3

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x you #jhutch #billy burn #billy burn x you #billy burn x reader #billy burn 2019 #burn 2019 #burn movie 2019 #billy x reader

178 notes · View notes

dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year ago

Note

Whoo hooooo! I think you would create magic as always with this prompt: the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.

Could I request it with your choice of Tup… or post-stasis Kix… or Hunter? 🫦🥹💙

A/N: Thank you for the ask @freesia-writes! I’ve been wanting to write a fic with a meteor shower for ages, and this was the perfect opportunity. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Hunter x Reader (GN)

Rating: T, but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 740

Warnings and tags: fluff; sensuality; pop culture in my SW fanfic (it's more likely than you think)

Summary: You and Hunter watch a meteor shower on Pabu.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“I’m gonna turn in,” Wrecker said. “I’ll take the kid back to the house if you two want to stay and watch the show.”

“I told her she needed to take a nap if she wanted to stay awake long enough to see the meteor shower,” Hunter laughed quietly, passing Omega’s sleeping form to his brother.

You grinned. “In her defense, if my dad had told me to take a nap when I was twelve, I definitely would have stayed awake just to spite him.”

Wrecker let out a booming laugh. “Didn’t realize you were such a rebel!”

“Ssshhhh!” you and Hunter shushed Wrecker in unison.

“Oh, right,” he whispered. “I’m headin’ out. See ya later.”

You waved goodbye at Wrecker and then flopped back down onto the blanket you’d spread on the sandy beach of Pabu, staring up at the glorious night sky. Hunter soon joined you, not quite touching you, but lying close to your side so you’d both fit on the blanket.

“You’re lucky Omega’s such a great kid,” you murmured. “I was a holy terror at her age. I couldn’t even stand myself; I don’t know how my parents survived.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he chuckled. “The proper schoolteacher of Pabu?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you replied. “I was a teenage dirtbag.”

“Is that why all the kids love you?”

“They sense a kindred spirit under my respectable facade,” you said with a giggle.

Hunter huffed a quiet laugh, and the two of you lapsed into silence as you watched the sky. It was a dark, moonless night, and for once, the sky was entirely free of clouds—a perfect night for stargazing. You could see the entire galaxy stretched out above you, the stars shining brightly enough that they reflected as pinpricks of light on the tranquil ocean.

“Look there,” he said, pointing to a section of the sky close to the horizon. “It’s gonna be a good one.”

Sure enough, a brilliant streak of light soon shot low across the darkness, its flash bright enough to illuminate the beach faintly. As it burned out, you turned your head to stare at Hunter.

“How do you do that?” you asked softly.

“I can hear them,” he replied.

He lay on his back, his eyes fixed on the sky, and you took a moment to watch his face in the starlight. “That’s amazing.”

It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but you thought he smiled. “There’ll be another over there.”

He pointed across your body to a section of sky far to your left. He propped himself up on one elbow so he could see over you, and you turned to the sector he pointed out just in time to catch the vivid burst of light. The meteor split in two as it hit the atmosphere, putting on a dazzling show, and you could hear the distant sizzling as it burnt itself out.

“Even I could hear that one!” you exclaimed, turning to Hunter in excitement.

He was much closer to you than he had been when he was lying on his back, and you caught your breath when you realized that your faces were almost touching. Your pulse began to race, and you silently willed yourself to calm down, knowing that Hunter would be able to hear your body’s reaction to him.

Another meteor shot directly overhead, its bright light illuminating his face, and you realized he was staring at your lips. On impulse, you reached up and kissed him. It was quick and light—barely a peck—and by the time it was over, the beach had plunged back into darkness, leaving you uncertain about his response.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Was that—”

He cut off your question abruptly, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate, urgent kiss. His hand dropped to your waist, rolling your body against his as his tongue grazed your lips softly, sliding into your mouth. The moment he tasted you, he let out a short, desperate sound, almost a growl, as his hand slid possessively up your back. Overhead, a spectacular meteor burst into the atmosphere, its flash so intense that you could see the illumination even though your eyes were closed. You opened them just in time to see the light trail die out.

As your lips parted from Hunter’s, you whispered, “We missed that one.”

He kissed you again, softly. “I prefer the view down here.”

#sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #sergeant hunter x reader #gn reader #sw tbb fanfic #the bad batch #bad batch #star wars #sw bad batch #hunter x reader

295 notes · View notes

watermelonsugacry · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! Hope everything’s going good! Was thinking if bandmember did anything like the vanity fair Billie eilish videos when they watch back all those interviews. Would love to see how far our girl has come

YN YLN: Same Interview, The Sixth Year | Vanity Fair

A/N: Christmas break is coming up so been busy but I also have some stuff coming out soon for your lovies! 💚

SINCE 2010 masterlist

“Year six, baby,” YN smirks at the camera. “Alright—” She pulls on the tops of her pink sheer opera gloves that match her pink corset before clapping her hands together. “—Let’s do this. ‘Ello, m’name is YN YLN. Today’s date is October 18, 2022.”

How old are you?

“I’m 23 years old.”

“I’m 24.”

“25.”

“26.”

“27.”

“M’28 years old,” YN kisses her teeth. “M’pushing 30, mate.”

How many followers do you have on Instagram?

“I have 573K followers on Instagram.”

“8.7M.”

“60.9M.”

“94.8M.”

“106M.”

“I currently have 287 million followers on Instagram. Dunno why I have so many; I make a lot of shit posts.”

What is your most liked picture on Instagram?

2017:

“My most liked picture is one of me and the boys huddled up backstage after our last performance together with 654K likes.”

2019:

“It is a picture of me in my home recording studio with about 5 million likes.”

2022:

“It’s currently one of me photo dumps on tour. The first picture on that one is a selfie with Harry taking a bite out of m’cheek. This one has 60,036,819 likes. Which is way too many likes if m’being honest.”

How are you feeling today?

2022:

“M’feeling really good. I always look forward to these interviews. I try me best not to look at the old videos more than once so that I can best prepare meself for my current answers, yeh know? But I love that I get to do this every year. There’s a lot of like, time lapse compilation videos on meself on YouTube that show off how far I’ve come over the years but these I feel are the least cringy ones,” YN lets out a laugh.

Biggest thing to happen in your career?

2021:

“I won a Grammy for producer of the year?” YN furrows her eyebrows as she juts her chin out. “Wha’ is life? That’s insane. The highlight of me career. Hands down.”

2022:

“It’s still the highlight of me career. And I got nominated for it again for Grammys 2023. To even be nominated and be the only woman in this category a second year in a row is just super fookin’ wild. Um...I got seven other Grammy nominations for next year. I’m also on tour again—a world tour—and it’s definitely me favorite thing to do aside from making the actual music. Harry’s new album that we’ve been workin’ on for over the past two-ish years finally came out earlier this year. I’m dropping me third album before the year is up. So many good things have happened this year that it’s honestly too long to list.”

How often do you get recognized in public?

2017:

“Pretty often,” She nods her head, a chuckle pushing past her lips. “It’s pretty hard to just go out and grab a bite to eat without getting surrounded.”

2020:

“Public? Who is she? I dunno her,” YN teases. “It’s pretty rare that I’ll go out nowadays and the masks only help so much with trying to be lowkey on the street on stuff like tha’.”

2022:

“I have to admit, v’gotten a lot better at being discreet when going out in public,” She nods her head with a knowing smile. “I think I was just so used to not being ‘allowed’ to go outside or if I did I wouldn’t enjoy meself because I knew I was gonna get recognized by paps. It was really hard for baby YN there because of how everything started. Everything I did was in the public eye and no matta’ what I did, me fans always knew where I was at all times it seemed,” YN hums.

“I love me fans and I love the times when we happen to see each other on the street, we can have like a genuine conversation instead of shoving yeh phone in me face and putting yeh hands on me without me permission. I’ve had the most amazing conversations with fans like tha’ those moments are super special to me.

But in all honesty, they need to get hired by the FBI or somethin’. Knowin’ where m’gonna be before I even do,” She huffs out a chuckle.

What’s most important to you right now?

2020:

“The relationships within me life. I think this year has really made me recognize that. Whether those relationships are with me mum, me boyfriend, me tour team, me dancers, the fans—they’re all super important to me. Makin’ sure that we’re all safe and healthy—mentally and physically—now more than ever.”

2022:

“All of which are still very important to me. I think v’also learned to stay in touch with me emotions. I think in an industry like this, it can be very easy to just put on a mask or passively go through events to maintain an image. If I’m doing something—wether it be somethin’ major or not, I want to allow m’self to be in the moment.

I did a show recently in Austin and...” The crease between her eyebrows disappear and smile etches itself on her lips at the memory, “I was singing POV and I just stopped singing and the crowd took over. I quite literally just stood there, took out me earpieces and just listened to a stadium full of people sing my song back to me. It made me feel so...it made me feel really good, really happy.”

Do you feel pressure?

2017:

“I do yeah,” YN nods with a sincere furrow of her eyebrows. “But I have been feeling pressure for the majority of my career so I’m mostly used to it by now; It doesn't bother me as much anymore.”

2022:

“Of my fookin’ word,” She throws her head back. “I can’t even—like even the way I spoke, man. Can yeh hear that? Like, I was still in the mindset of having to change the way I talk, tweak me accent and act all prim and proper,” YN points a finger into her mouth as she sticks out her tongue.

“And what a lie. Like of course that pressure bothered me still! I was fresh into the hiatus, just dropped me first solo album, about to do a world tour by meself for the first time. I was dealin’ with so much that I remember the pressure of everything was just...it felt that I was gonna be squished into a pancake. Being in the band and being as big as we were, there was an immense amount of pressure for everything to keep going well; everything seemed like it had to get bigger and bigger and if I didn’t live up to that standard as a solo artist, it was the end of the world to me.”

“I do still feel some pressure but definitely not to that extent anymore. It’s more of like, a good pressure, I’d say. It keeps me from resting on me laurels and it makes me continue to work hard to improve meself. Like, just because I won an award for produce of the year doesn’t mean that m’gonna let it get to me head and just not work to better meself in that craft.

But I have to admit that a lot of that pressure has been lifted off of me from me fans. They’ve just continued to give me their unconditional love and support—whether it be for a year, 2 years, 12 years—m’just super grateful that they just allow me to be me, flaws and all.”

What did you eat today?

2020:

“I ate some grilled chicken—that I made all by myself—with a side of some beans,” YN giggles as she knows by now that the fans have been having a laugh about her boyfriend’s baked beans comment over interviews in quarantine.

2021:

“I had a chicken caesar salad bowl that I probably put way too much dressing on to be considered healthy anymore,” She chuckles, playing with the chunky chain sitting on her collarbones.

2022:

“I actually had an amazing chicken wrap this morning. Just the right amount of protein and yumminess,” She pats her tummy with a content smile. “Yeh girl likes chicken, what can I say?”

Are you aware of people when you're playing?

2019:

“I think so yeah. It’s crazy because for me, it’s scarier to play in front of 6 people than 60 thousand people. But on the other hand, the noisiness of big crowds is super calming to me. I can’t really explain how. Like right before m’gonna go on stage, I like to take out me ear-pieces and just listen to them scream...which now makes me sound like a serial killer of summ’wat,” YN’s shoulders bunch up to her ears as she giggles.

2022:

“I would say that m’more aware of the audience members now more than I ever have before. This current tour that m’on is probably the funnest tour so far and it’s really because of the fans. When m’on stage and when I’m performing, I make sure to look at the people in the audience, yeh know? Like, I can still remember when the band did our first stadium tour, I honestly couldn’t see anything; they were all just blurbed together.

But with this tour, I make sure to take the time during the show to talk with fans. And I make an effort to sing to them and look at them dancing in the pit, the outfits they recreate, the way some of them are just closing their eyes and just being in the moment. As a musician, to see people come to me show and to see how they create this environment where everyone can have fun and let loose and just have a good time is just super amazin’. It’s a really indescribable feeling.”

Are you more confident this year compared to last year?

2018:

“From last year to now? 100%,” She answers with ease, leaning back into her seat. “I think this is the most confident I’ve ever felt, I think. M’not too worried about what people are sayin’ about me because let’s face it, they are always saying something. So if yeh like me, cool. If yeh don’t, cool.”

2022:

“She’s not wrong. 2018 YN’s ego was pretty up there. Granted, me ego is still growing and sensitive so—” YN shamelessly shrugs and puts her hands up in defense. “—Take tha’ as you will. But I definitely feel more confident and secure in who I am as a person and as an artist. When the boys and I went our separate ways musically, I had a hard time sort of, figuring out what I like and the kind of music I wanted to make for meself. Even the way I thought about fashion, I knew people saw me in skirts and things like that but I remember entertaining the idea of if I wanted to continue that as a security blanket of sorts.

When I was in the band, I took things with a grain of salt and m’very happy that I’ve kept that with me.”

Biggest rumor about you?

2017:

“That I’ve slept with each of the 1D boys,” YN lets out a nervous laugh. “Which is gross because they’re all like my brothers.”

2018:

“Where do I even begin?” YN blows out a raspberry. “I’ve been gettin’ this one for literally years now but that m’dating my old bandmate, Harry—which is getting really old at this point,” She scrunches up her nose with a roll of her eyes.

2022:

YN bursts out laughing as she watches her old self answer, knowing full well that during that time period she was in the midst of her on-and-off relationship with Harry.

She tilts her head to the side with a quick raise of her eyebrows, “I mean, she’s not wrong. V’been getting that question/comment asked since we were on the XFactor. And believe it or not, I still get asked that question. I just answer it differently now,” She cheekily brings her shoulder to her chin.

What do you hate being asked?

2018:

“That. The ‘who are you dating?’ question. For a long time, I just had to suck it up and just answer the question but I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to, y’know? Also, I’m my own person,” She begins to list things off of her fingers, “I’m not someone’s arm candy, m’not so-and-so’s new girl. I’m YN YLN and if all you ask me is if I’m dating anyone rather than me music, you don’t deserve my time.”

2022:

YN drops her jaw and the corners of her lips tug up in a smile.

“A feisty little thing she is,” She chuckles. “But no truer words have ever escaped me mouth. She’s right, and I still stand by that. 100%. My career is not based around a guy or who m’dating. That’s not to say I hate talking about Harry—I love to talk about him but don’t make it the whole point of the interview, yeh know?”

Craziest fan moment?

2021:

“Me first show back on tour after being held back in 2020 was really heartwarming. It a stadium show—not intimidating at all for me first show back—” YN sarcastically comments. “—so there were three levels of seating: the pit, the middle section, and then the top. While I was singing, the audience did a fan project where on the top section held up lights to read welcome back, and then the middle said we missed you, and the pit held up pieces of paper saying we love you. M’not even gonna lie, I was bawlin’ me eyes out. Like, just thinking of the amount of work that went into that...” She shakes her head in disbelief.

2022:

“I did a show last week in LA and at the barricade, I saw this lineup of these 5 girls wearing my current and past tour outfits. I have seen some really good recreation of me fits before and it was honestly like a copy and paste, I was so shocked. After talking with them for a bit—now I don’t ever do this—but I invited them to come up on stage with me,” YN laughs.

“I suggested we ditch the choreography for Kiss Me More but they insisted they knew it and sure enough,” YN throws her hands with another laugh. “I almost hired them on the spot!”

Do you have a boyfriend?

2017:

“Um, no. I do not have a boyfriend. I’m just really focused on my music at the moment. That’s my boyfriend,” She lets out a chuckle.

2020:

YN playfully rolls her eyes and throws her hands up, “Well I’d be the biggest liar in the world if I said no.”

She huffs out a giggle as she refers to the entire world finding out about her secret relationship with Harry on New Years Eve of that year.

2021:

“I do have a boyfriend,” She smirks at the camera with a shrug of her shoulder, leaving it at that.

2022:

YN takes a second longer to answer this question and stares at the laptop screen with a fond smile. She technically doesn’t have a boyfriend anymore, but will she let them know that? Nope.

“Well, you’d all be happy to know that Harry and I are still very much together. Still got that boy locked down, ladies,” She playfully winks at the camera with a click of her tongue.

What makes you happy in a relationship?

2022:

“I like quality time. From staying inside 24/7 in 2020 to easing back into my busy schedule made H and I realize that it was important to set some time aside for ourselves, just the two of us. Like, we don’t even have to be talking just as long as we’re together during the business of it all. And...” A smirk grows on her lips, “One of me love languages is physical touch. It definitely wasn't on the list before so you can probably guess who made me this way but yeah. And music, of course, that’s me main form of love language. Whether we’re listening to good music, making it, singing it—anything to do with it m‘in love.”

Describe your style in 3 words.

2017:

“Figuring it out.”

2018:

“No more skirts,” The 24-year-old rolls her eyes.

2019:

“Whatever is comfy,” She laughs as she wraps her light green cardigan tighter over herself.

2020:

“Trying new things.”

2021:

“Trousers and blazers.”

2022:

She tilts her head as she bites her lip, looking up as she thinks about how to compactly frame her style now. As she says the next three words, she holds up her hand to count it off on her fingers, “Pretty in pink. And 2018 YN was a lie. I still fancy a skirt every now and then.”

Biggest thing you’re struggling with?

2019:

“I think, just being honest with meself in terms of how I feel. I think I struggle a lot with allowing meself to feel the way I feel about certain things,” Or about a certain someone. “And that it's okay to feel those things. I know, super detailed,” She chuckles.

2022:

“Yeah, 2019 YN was certainly going through some personal issues. S’crazy to look back at these videos and remember wha’ I was feelin’ during that time. S’pretty crazy. I can say that v’grown immensely from that time of my life which is very comforting to know. It’s still hard for me, don’t get me wrong, but allowing myself to feel things like love or sadness or happiness is something that I’m subconsciously reminding myself to do.

I think the biggest thing that m’stuggling now with is to have check ins with meself. It’s safe to say that m’back to my busy, hectic, never-ending schedule so I want to take a breather every now and then. It can be a whole day, a whole 20 minutes, just a pause to check in with my mind, me body, me spirt to make sure m’okay and then be off to a career that I love very dearly.”

What advice would you give your future self?

2017:

“Have some fun and enjoy this new chapter that you’re venturing onto,” She nods with a smile.

2019:

“I would say to allow yourself to feel uncomfortable. Step out of your comfort zone and take that leap of faith.”

2022:

“What a genetic piece of advice for that first year, eh?” YN chuckles with a smirk, “Enjoy this new chapter you're venturing onto like yeh can hear how professional I wanted to sound,” She playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh. “I would say that 2019 YN’s advice is a good one though. It’s a good reminder to not play things safe all the time. As a narcissist, I want everything to be perfect, especially me music, so to be in the studio and not fall back to me old habits of what I think sounds good, try something different, yeh know? I like that a lot, actually.”

This is my mum...

2017:

“Everyone, say hello to Penny,” YN proudly presents as her stepmum comes up to her side, placing a hand on the back of her chair as she waves at the camera.

“‘Ello, lovelies,” Penny beams.

2018:

“Penny!” YN smiles brightly. When she wiggles her fingers towards her stepmum the sound of her rings clinking together can be heard.

When Penny walks up to her stepdaughter’s side, she puts her hands on top of YN’s red leather jacket to give her shoulders a squeeze.

“Hi baby,” Her stepmum gives a warm smile and gently presses her chin to YN’s temple.

2019:

Penny tucks her long, black hair behind her ears before wrapping her arms around her stepdaughter’s shoulders.

“I love you, my baby,” She says into her hair before planting a kiss on her head.

“I love youuu so much,” YN sings as she holds onto her stepmum’s forearms over her chest.

2020:

“Y’already know what time it is,” YN dances in her seat, her arms already extended out by her side. She lets out a laugh as she watches Penny shimmy her way to her stepdaughter’s side. The tight high waisted jeans show off her curvy, fit figure and a mask covers the lower half of her face.

“It’s Penny time,” Her stepmum throws finger guns at the camera.

2021:

“Come over ‘ere, mum,” YN nods her head over to Penny. Once she’s close enough, she takes a hold of her stepmum’s hand and pulls her over for her to sit on her lap, wrapping her arms over her torso, “Love you.”

“I love you more, baby,” Penny smiles as she leans her head back to rest beside YN’s.

2022:

“This is me mumma,” YN smiles warmly before cooing out a chuckle. “Wha’ happened?” She questions when she sees Penny walk over to her side with glossy eyes.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” She chuckles, dabbing her under eyes with the sides of her index fingers. “S’just really fookin’ cool to see how far you’ve come. Like look at her—” Penny points to the laptop screen that has 2017 YN on display. “—me lil’ baby.”

“Mum!” YN laughs when Penny wraps her arms around her daughter’s head and pulls it to her chest.

Taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @teawithcyb0rgs @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02

1K notes · View notes

lowkeyrobin · 8 months ago

Note

I just read your mcyts x musical theater reader and it was so sweet. I was wondering if you could do something similar but instead of the reader doing musical theater, they do movie/tv acting??? maybe with slimecicle, niki, foolish, and quackity?

I can try I can try 🙏🙏 ; I wanna formally apologize to anyone who's sent requests that I've never posted, sometimes the lack of ideas just hits me like a brick and I physically have no more ideas and can't post them lol ; also sorry if any of this is a little inaccurate, this is just what I know from bts videos and dead meat / kill counts lmao

MCYT ; actor reader

includes ; nihachu, quackity, foolish gamers & slimecicle

warnings ; language

masterlist

NIKI NIHACHU

your biggest fan fr

she binges every single movie/show you've been in just for you

then afterward her tiktok fyp is filled with edits of your characters

her pinterest is filled with pics of your characters too lmao

she's got boards for all the diff characters and aesthetics and bts pics

you send her a picture of you hung by a harness and she's like "what kind of contraption are you in and why"

probably watches the movies/shows you're in on stream for first time reactions and commentary

if you have to wear a wig for a project you'll show her like a time-lapse of how the makeup dept puts it on and she's just like "how long does that take???" "an hour" "omg"

ALEX QUACKITY

liking, reposting and commenting on any edits of you/your characters

actually so down bad /hj

yk damn well he's always asking "hey any new movies or shows ur gonna be in soon??" "not soon enough for u to watch rn lmao"

always makes jokes in reference to media you've been in

asks what other actors are like bts and if they're actually nice or if they have a JLO type ego

always wants to match Halloween costumes w your characters and their love interest/best duo type friend iykwim

hides the fact he reads fanfiction about you and your characters

FOOLISH GAMERS

owns every single piece of merchandise related to your characters

owns every piece of media you've been in on DVD, and has most of the original scores on cd/vinyl

constantly making references and jokes to movie/show deaths you've acted out / traumas your characters have endured

his tiktok fyp is FILLED with edits of you

every like three scrolls it's another edit that he likes, reposts and favorites

he rewatches edits 24/7

also dives into fandom culture a bit bc he wants to talk to people who like your career as much as he does

also the type to ask "is ___ a good person or are they secretly a bitch?" lmao

you spill all the juice

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

has an actual checklist of which movies/shows he's watched and how many times he has

the gossip about other actors bts goes crazy

he's probably the one to show up to set the most to give you food or motivation lol

"whatre you guys doing with all the blood?" *cue him looking to giant gallons of fake blood*

"I, ___ & ___ are dying today"

"Oh, fuck, cool. can I watch?"

matching Halloween costumes with your characters 💯💯💯

he's obsessed with seeing edits of you and reposting the ones he finds on Twitter

"Holy shit you guys are insane (make more right now)

w boyfriend

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #gender neutral reader #gn reader #mcyt x gn reader #gn!reader #they/them reader #quackity x reader #alex quackity x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle x reader #foolish gamers x reader

126 notes · View notes

keepswingin · 9 months ago

Note

Chan + crush

It starts out like anything else does, until it turns into something completely out of control. Which really isn't all that surprising when it comes to his life, because these kinds of things always turn into something big.

"Did the company tell you what to say yet?" Minho asks with a drawl that says he already knows the answer, lounging on the couch as soon as Chan enters their dorm.

He was originally coming over to theirs to drag Jeongin with him to get dinner, but he isn't all that surprised that it's Minho he sees first.

"What do you think?" he sighs, pulling the door shut behind him. He leans on the arm of the couch, weight sagging against it. "They're going to try and brush it off as an 'unsupported rumor'." He gestures sarcastically as he says it, causing Minho to smirk and roll his eyes.

"Try to sound less enthused about it," he replies, eyes drifting back to the television.

There's some show on about baking desserts. Minho's only half paying attention to it, Chan knows, more interested in hearing about things the internet has already raked through ten times over.

"They do realize that she had proof in her post, right? No one is going to believe that all of it is nothing but a rumor." He says it simply, mostly because they both know there's no sugarcoating when it comes to something as big as this.

He does know, and almost hates to admit that there's a small part of him that wished that the company couldn't just run this entire thing over and leave it for dead in the middle of the road.

She was more than that; they were more than that.

He knew exactly what he was putting on the line, and exactly in which ways they could move him around, but none of it mattered when she was the one it was all centered around.

"Did you know she was going to post?" Minho asks quietly, when the silence between them has dragged on for a moment too long.

Chan bristles, readjusting himself against the furniture and turning his eyes back to the television. The host is cracking eggs and mixing them in with just enough butter. Chan thinks back to the cake he had shared on his birthday, and the shy smile she had shot him as he had blown out the candles and made his wish. The shine of her eyes against the streetlight outside -

"No," he replies, very quietly. "I didn't."

They lapse into another silence. It stretches, long and thin. They hear Felix yell from down the hall, and Jeongin's following cackle of victory. The water squeaks as it's turned on by Hyunjin in the bathroom, and stays as a steady constant in the background as the host finishes mixing the cake batter.

"Are you glad she did it?"

Chan crosses his arms. Considers if sitting here with Minho would be better than attempting to drag Jeongin shopping, and face the paparazzi that is sure to follow. Dispatch is sure to already be having a heyday, he can't help but think with a small quirk of his lips.

His mind drifts, and he finds himself not answering Minho's question, instead tugging his phone free from his sweatshirt pocket. He scrolls through social media for a long moment, before opening up Bubble, and shooting a quick message that is sure to add more fire to the flame, and then he waits.

One minute, two. Her reply comes to him by the fifth minute, in the form of a screenshot of his Bubble chat.

channie: happily taken <3

He smiles as he watches her chat bubbles disappear and reappear multiple times, before finally landing one simple word.

happily?

He thinks this might just be the easiest decision he's ever had to make.

nothing makes me happier than being with you.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan x female reader #bang chan #lee minho #skz fluff #stray kids fanfiction #keepswingin writes #mine #asks #nobody look at me

73 notes · View notes

velvetcloxds · 10 months ago

Text

~little bird series masterlist

characters: mafia!sirius black, princess potter!reader, prince!james potter, prince!remus lupin, bodyguard!lily evans, secret agent!regulus (unrelated to sirius in this au), mercenary!peter pettigrew

series warnings: possible blood and violence, non-canon characters and places, no magic, time lapses between parts, non-conventional viewing of monarchy and other social systems, mafia characters, dirty business, love triangle, allusion to the prequel I have in the works as well

series summary: the second generation of royal potters and lupins have to face the new reign alongside a resurrected mafia force, mercenaries creeping out of the past, constant threats to not only the crown but their lives and the princess' search for peace at all costs lands her in the middle of an epic love triangle between a dangerous mafia boss and a prince who has cast himself away from his throne.

chapter one- when your parents go missing and hoards of people are trying to get into the palace to hurt you and your brother, you have no choice but to go and get help from the last person your parents would have you be associated with

chapter two- regulus confronts you about going to see sirius alone, your parents being home forces you to lie about how you solved the crisis in their absence and even amid damage control you're still thinking about sirius, seems he's thinking about you too

chapter three- james has to speak at the post-crisis press conference which forces you to come face to face with other royals, one of whom you hadn't seen since he broke your heart as a teenager, an unexpected visitor at the conference sends everyone running in terror and makes you realize just how dangerous of a world your mother has left for you to inherit (coming soon…)

#princess!reader #potter!reader #prince!james potter #mafia!sirius black #secret agent!regulus #prince!remus lupin #bodyguard!lily evans #mercenary!peter pettigrew #marauders au #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #royal!marauders #royal au #mafia au

128 notes · View notes

loquaciousquark · 4 months ago

Text

I got a ton of prompts last week; thank you! It turns out crawling all over Hawaii's Big Island doesn't leave a huge amount of time for writing in the evenings. The airport sure does, however!

This is the first of two fills I managed to complete. I'm still plucking away at a few more, but considering both of these ended up much longer than I expected, they may take a bit as well. All will be posted on AO3 once I'm finished.

For @liliactrees, "china aster: jealousy." 2600 words, set about a week post-game.

Torches in silver sconces blazed merrily on either side of the fine carved doors. They called to passersby in crackling welcome, as did the cultured cheers and calls of laughter within which burst out at every entering patron. Every now and then the doors opened to reveal glimpses of diners in glittering gowns and robes, two glass chandeliers a trifle large for the space, and the scent of beautifully cooked meat.

Tav, who had a new rent in her cloak and a still-damp mudstain down her entire left leg, would just as soon have gone back to the Elfsong for the evening; but a crew of rebuilding construction workers had at last taken on the inn’s shattered west wall, and all guests had been summarily displaced for the duration. Two days, they’d said. Three, if the Elder Brain’s death throes had fractured the foundation. Not much she could do there without taking up a hammer herself.

And besides, Astarion was here. It was a restaurant and auberge just to his taste: on the low side of the Upper City, grossly overpriced, staffed with obsequious parlor-maids and utterly choked with gilt candelabra. She’d as soon taken up at the Blushing Mermaid, but Astarion had made it clear washed sheets were a non-negotiable, and that had severely limited their options.

Nothing to be done for it. She shook out the road-grit from her cloak, re-tied her hair more smoothly, and pushed open the door. A man in a starched white shirt leapt to pull it the rest of the way for her—unsettling enough even before he apologized for his lapse in attention—and Tav muttered some generic benediction before fleeing past him.

The main room was fine, very large and very crowded. On the left side were two dozen tables, crammed with velvet-cushioned chairs and bedecked with platters of steaming fish and cut-crystal wineglasses. On the right was a small dance floor, overcrowded just like the rest of the room with men and women in full evening dress, a small string trio on a corner stage leading them through some swirling dance Tav didn’t know.

Astarion would be at the bar, she knew. Tav kept her head down as she weaved through the crowd, avoiding the glances of curious diners at her leather armor, her bloodied gloves, the blasted mudstain down her leg. Bloody oozes. Bloody opportunistic looters without a goose’s sense among them, too foolish to understand that what they’d stolen from Sorcerous Sundries might in fact be very, very magical indeed—

There. The crowd parted enough she could make out Astarion’s white hair, and every ounce of tension melted out of her like oil off a hot pan. He was sitting at the bar on the back wall, one leg crossed over the other, his chin on his hand, his whole body turned toward the person sitting beside him. His eyes were lidded and unblinking and beautiful, and Tav wanted nothing more in the world than to walk straight into his arms and bury her face in his chest.

Astarion’s neighbor said something, leaning towards him, and Astarion laughed. A conspiratorial laugh, low and inviting, and a smile afterwards that seemed full of promises. Tav stumbled to a halt.

Who—a man. She didn’t know him. A little taller than her, she thought, and an elf, very slim, with tawny hair that fell in a straight sheet down his back. He was dressed in fine robes of orange and gold, and nearly every finger bore a jewel-studded ring. He leaned in towards Astarion again, and though she couldn’t hear the words from here, she could make out enough of his tone to know it was a question.

Jealousy roared up the back of her throat like bile. Tav recoiled, shocked at her own vitriol—but a second wave crashed over her before the first had waned, and her fingers clenched around the hilt of her rapier.

How dare he. How dare this man—this stranger—come to this overpriced hothouse of an inn and choose Astarion out of everyone, out of all the wretched jewel-encrusted gentry swirling around them to sink his soft unbloodied hands into—

And just as swiftly as it came, the jealousy vanished.

Why not?

Why not Astarion? He was clearly the most handsome man in the room, apparently unattached and used to luxury, his fine white curls tumbling over his forehead, his eyes sharp as knives. He was dressed in her favorite black with red trim—the embroidery on this one was more subtle, less garish—and his long, elegant fingers played over the stem of his wineglass with careless grace. Even the silver threading on his shoes shone. He might have stepped down from a painting only moments ago, and she had blood on one cheek and sewer muck caked into the heels of her boots.

What right did she have, after all? This man might be everything Astarion deserved. Self-assured, wealthy, able to keep him in fine clothes and carriages and company the way he ought to be kept. The diamond on the man’s thumb alone could buy half the Wide, Tav thought; surely someone like that could purchase Astarion safety from the sun. In her experience, the wealthy always knew people, or they knew people who knew people, and if nobody knew anybody then the money could always find someone for them instead.

To Tav’s horror, her foot took a half-step backwards.

Better this way, hissed a small voice in the back of her mind, one which sounded remarkably like her long-dead aunt. Better this way, you rotten lead weight. Fucking shackle, what good are you? Let go before you sink him too.

Her foot took another step backwards, and then Astarion laughed.

A beautiful sound on the face of it. Not that high giggle he gave when he was being shocking on purpose; not that punch of sound when he was surprised by his own amusement. It was a coaxing, persuasive sort of laugh, very musical, and to Tav’s ears—thin and fragile as a sheet of glass.

Oh, gods. What was she doing? What was she doing?

The fear released its hold on her feet as if she’d burst into flame. She strode forward, narrowly displacing a waiter with a tray of expensive-looking liqueurs, and split through a pair of cattily gossiping half-elves with matching feather fascinators. The mud was forgotten. The torn cloak was forgotten. The sideways glances and whispered asides as she passed—nothing at all.

He loved her. How dare she forget? How dare she think such a precious thing might not be worth fighting for?

She could practically hear his voice in her head. Little idiot!

She broke through the last of the crowd between them, and Astarion saw her. A shell fell away from his expression, so delicate and perfectly molded she’d hardly noticed it until it vanished, and then a warmth grew in his crimson eyes. Not some great blaze, not a raging fire that leapt from tree to tree; something smaller instead, quiet and very steady, the way one lit a candle at the door to welcome home a weary lover.

His smile was real. She thought she could survive a thousand years on that alone.

”Astarion,” Tav said as she reached him, and then she did what she’d longed to for hours and walked straight into his chest where he sat.

“Hello, darling,” he said to the top of her head, and his cool arm wrapped instantly around her shoulders. She shuddered in relief. “Gods below. Did you know you’re filthy?”

”It hadn’t completely escaped my notice,” she said, her words muffled in his collar. Despite every instinct she had telling her to curl up against him right here and sleep for a week, Tav forced herself to straighten. Astarion’s hand slid to the back of her neck, but he didn’t let her go, and he made no move to displace her from the cradle of his knees. “I see you’re very clean and pressed.”

”Volunteer less often for that nasty rebuilding effort, my dear, and you too can spend your days lounging on satin sheets and reading extremely awful poetry.”

Tav laughed, and his eyes softened. She said, “I missed you.”

”Yes,” he said, as close as he ever ventured to such admissions in public. The string trio finished one set and began another; his thumb stroked up the line of her neck and down again.

The man beside Astarion abruptly cleared his throat. They both looked over; he lifted a manicured, arrogant brow. “You must excuse me,” the man said with the brassy air of one used to being obeyed. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

”Yes, Astarion, introduce me to your friend.”

Ah, he knew her too well. A wicked gleam flashed though his eyes, gone again before she could blink. “Of course. Good sir, this is the succinctly-named Tav, orphan of this fair city turned recently and disgustingly savior of the same. My love, this is…ah. Alexander.”

”Alahonder,” the man said, now decidedly icy. “My wife is Olara Hhune.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not familiar,” Tav said, and she pulled her glove off with her teeth before extending her hand to shake. He took it for the briefest moment, his fingers limp as eels. “Have you two lived in Baldur’s Gate long?”

“Yes,” he said curtly.

Astarion lifted his wineglass swiftly to his lips. Tav let him—his fingers were trembling with laughter against her neck—and rested an idle hand on Astarion’s knee. “How wonderful. You two must love each other very much.”

Alahonder Hhune, who had one of the most infamously contentious marriages in the city’s history—who had, Tav knew, been thrown twice from his Upper City manse within the last three months by his furious wife—curled his impeccable elven lip. “Of course,” he said, even more glacial than before. Then he seemed to rally, and with a visible effort he gathered together the scraps of his composure and turned back to Astarion. “My dear boy,” he said, all coaxing honey now, “let me find you again later. Alone, I think. We could pick up right where we left off, hmm?”

”Of course,” Astarion said gleefully, and he brushed his free hand through the man’s tawny hair where it framed his face. “Come back tonight, near midnight. Don’t worry. I’ll find you.”

“Oh,” the man said with a bloom of painfully obvious lust, and without another glance at Tav, he stood in a flourish of orange and gold robes and strode away into the crowd. They parted for him, then closed again behind him like water as if he’d never been.

Astarion, who was still running his thumb over Tav’s neck, turned her face to his. “Well, hello,” he purred. “What curious timing you have, my dear.”

”Just lucky, I suppose,” she said, unable to keep the stupid smile from her face, and before she could succumb to the doubt she leaned up and kissed him.

Astarion let out a low, surprised noise that made her wish to instantly spirit them both away to privacy, then slipped his hand into her hair and pulled her mouth properly against his. The kiss wasn’t long, but it was uncharacteristically tender, and when it was over he let out a little sigh that nearly took her to pieces. Against her mouth, he said, “You really are filthy, you know.”

“And you’re impossible. Alahonder Hhune, really?”

He sat back, looking immensely self-satisfied. ”What can I say, darling? Had you felt a little less altruistic today, I would have been a little less alone, and a little less alluring to unhappily married second-rate oligarchs.”

”You could always—“ she began, but the memory of exactly why he couldn’t follow her to these daytime excursions flung itself hard against her, and she swallowed the rest of the sentence like glass. “Look less beautiful,” she said lamely instead.

Astarion smirked. “My poor little love. Jealous, are we?”

”Yes,” Tav said, defiant now, and she kissed him again. “Don’t leave me for a Hhune.”

”Certainly not. I’ll hold out for at least a Linnacker.”

”Hm. You could do even better.”

Irritation sparked briefly across Astarion’s face. ”I don’t want better,” he said, sharp enough the tiefling behind the bar glanced over at them. “I know you can be painfully dense, my dear, but let’s not pretend you’re amnesiac, too.”

How stupid, that the more acidic he became the more her heart puddled in her chest. “Fine,” she said, leaning into him, and he wrapped his arm around her once more. “Let’s see it, then.”

Astarion laughed. He flicked out his wrist, then held up an earring: a polished amber pendant wrapped in heavy gold wire. He twisted the earring this way and that for her amusement, the room’s lavish candelabra flickering fire through the facets. Then he rippled his fingers in a little wave, and the earring vanished.

“Very good.”

Astarion laughed. “How smug you sound.”

“I take my wins where I can get them,” Tav said, and she splayed her fingers to reveal three of Alahonder Hhune’s rings arrayed between her knuckles. Framed on either side by gold and rubies, the diamond worth half the Wide gleamed like cold fire.

Astarion’s smile widened toothily. There was delight there, she thought, and a certain novel pride; and under all of it that same slow-burning affection, richer than any basket of diamonds. How wonderful to be the reason for that fanged smile; how precious to feel her own proud delight in turn. That she’d failed to recognize the glassy-eyed mask earlier seemed the height of impossibility, especially against such a clear window into his heart.

“You're wonderful,” she said at last, secreting the jewels back into the pouch at her waist, and she framed his face in both hands. “I’ve a confession to make.”

“Oh, do tell.”

”I’ve gotten mud on your trousers.”

”Ah—ugh,” he said, with very real disgust, and he pulled her hands from his cheeks to examine the streak she’d left against his knee. “Why do I put up with you? Honestly.”

”Because you love me,” Tav said.

”Because I love you,” he repeated with tremendous longsuffering, and he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her carefully on the mouth. “I’ll love you more if you bathe and change.”

“An easy heart to buy. Don’t you have a date later?”

“Yes, though it won’t be with any Hhunes or Linnackers.” His thumb slid to the vein of her throat and pressed there, carefully. “Dinner and a show, I think.”

Tav laughed. A few of the patrons nearby cast her a glance, but it was swiftly followed by another whisper of her name and an unexpected summary of her recent erstwhile heroics, and then Tav stopped listening because it didn’t matter anyway, because Astarion was smiling at her and Astarion loved her and that was worth any shade of gossip the city could scrounge up. The strings launched into a sprightly minuet, and a new crop of glittering men and women swept onto the floor in a seamless tide.

”I’m glad you’re here, Astarion,” Tav said, meaning it. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Astarion stood, eyes serious, and looked down at her. “I am, as well,” he said at last, and then he shook off the mood like a cat jumping from a bath. “Come on, let’s go. Before this nauseating sentimentality makes me do something I’ll regret.”

Tav laughed, and when he put his hand to the small of her back she let him guide her towards the stairs. Halfway up the stairs their fingers brushed; he’d gone for the rings at the same moment she’d reached for his pilfered earring. She laughed again; he snorted, and they settled for taking each other’s hands instead.

—

end.

#astarion #tav #tavstarion #baldur's gate 3 #quark writes #liliactrees #flower prompt meme

36 notes · View notes

citricacidprince · 2 days ago

Note

I don't know if anyone already asked this question, but I need to get it out of my brain.

What do you imagine a meeting between the Stan twins from your version of Relativity Falls and the original Stan twins would be like? (before or after the Weirdmageddon, although I'm more curious about the after lol)

Oooough the idea of the Relativity Baby Stans meeting the OG Old Men Stans makes me wanna combussssst!!!

The possibilities!!! 💥💥💥

(I’ll be using full names for the OG twins (Stanley & Stanford) and nicknames for the Relativity twins (Lee & Ford) for the sake of consistency lmao)

If it’s pre-Weirdmageddon for both the OG show and Relatively falls I can imagine the Stan’s are having a great time while the Ford’s are also having a kinda fun time but it’s a little…

You see, if you thought Stanford was projecting with Dipper when he was trying to get him to stay in Gravity Falls, you can only IMAGINE how bad it’s gonna get when he meets Ford. Stanford would unintentionally make the Relativity twin’s bond even more strained because he would confirm everything Ford has been told by his teachers and his father, that he needs to be his own person and Lee is holding him back. On the cuter side I like to think Stanley would give Lee a sweet pep talk about not letting anyone push him around or let him feel belittled, then he’d teach Lee how to throw a mean left hook! Who says you can’t be your own father figure, hmm?

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for the OG show but not Relativity Falls, the Stan boys, again, are having a great time, even more-so now that Stanley has this cool Sailor aesthetic going on for him! This time Stanford would very gently tell Ford that he shouldn’t listen to what anyone else says, especially their father. They don’t have anything to prove to anyone. And I think Ford would actually listen if it was Stanford telling him this. After all, who knows you better than yourself?

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for Relativity Falls and not the OG show, good fucking luck separating the Relativity twins! They are attached at the hip and if Stanford ever tried to gently ease them apart Ford just might bite his arm! The entire thing is an extremely sore subject and even though Lee and Stanley are used to mean spirited jabs and back handed compliments, if Stanford even as so grumbles something slightly mean about Stanley or Lee under his breath Ford will not hesitate to explode on him. Lee always has to tell Ford that it’s alright while Stanley can’t help but find their attachment to each other sweet and nostalgic, something he really misses. Stanford can’t understand why Ford seems to be so protective over Lee, 10 times more than he was as a child, and the two refuse to talk about it. (Don’t worry Stanford, you’ll find out soon enough :] )

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for both the OG show and Relativity Falls, then oooooh boy I wanna combust on the spot!!!!

I can so vividly see the older men lighting up at the younger versions of them, nostalgia and ‘Oh man were we really that small?’ running through both their minds as they happily chat with the cute little goobers. Then I can see the horror on Stanley and Stanford’s faces when they realize these two kids had to go through the same twin swap and subsequent mind wipe they had to go through. They’re just little kids, just a little older than Mabel and Dipper, they didn’t deserve that.

When Ford’s hands shake and he can’t stop tears from falling down his round cheeks when he gets flashes to himself holding the memory gun to his brother’s head, Stanley’s the one to gently cover the kid’s polydactyl hands with his own and grumble soft comforting words until the kid is about to fall asleep from how hard he was crying.

When Lee has a huge lapse in memory and takes a while to remember once again, Stanford holds Lee close to his chest and isn’t able to stop silent tears from falling down his face. The silent tears only get worse when Lee, despite not even able to remember who Stanford is at the moment, tries to comfort and wipe away the older man’s tears.

These boys make me soooo ill I wanna combust :]

#relativity falls #relativity falls au #gravity falls #gravity falls au #gf au #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls stanley #stanford pines #stanley pines #young stanley pines #young stanford pines #stangst #long post

53 notes · View notes

kiiyunz · 3 months ago

Text

⠀⠀( 0:11 ⭔ )⠀posted by NCT DREAM⠀⸻⠀KYUNLOG #O1: a whole lot of B-ROLL!!!

⠀⠀( SCENE START ⟡ )⠀kihyun led on his stomach in bed, one hand propping up the camera while the other messed with the hair falling into his eyes. the hour was early, sunlight spilling into the room through a window.

“Hey,” were his first words, a soft greeting accompanied by a small wave that was abandoned halfway through as his free hand hastily pressed over his mouth in an attempt to stifle a yawn. Once it passed, he pushed his fringe out of his line of sight for the nth time and started to speak again.

“This is an.. Introduction segment, I guess. An intro. To the vlog. I’m filming it on my very own camera!” Kihyun shook the mentioned object as if to prove it, melting into blurred motion until he stopped. There were a few moments of silence afterwards, with him simply staring into the screen as if waiting for someone on the other side to react, before he came back to life and gestured around the room he was in.

“I’m in the new apartment! I still can’t believe Jisungie wanted me as his forever roommate.. I knew I was his favourite hyung.” A fond shake of his head followed, grin wide on his lips, before he suddenly lurched into a sitting position and swung the camera around to showcase the state of his room. Half-empty moving boxes were strewn around on the floor, clothes and shoes and hats were piling up, and there was no curtain on the pole at his window.

“It’s pretty bare right now, I know. There’s just been a lot going on! There’ll be a room tour when I get it all sorted out, I promise. I might have to get Renjun-hyung to help me, though. He’s more organised than I could ever be.”

When the camera was turned back around, Kihyun’s face was pulled into a scowl, his glare directed towards the window.

“I hate having no curtains the most. No one told me they weren’t going to come with the apartment! I hate waking up early, but when the sun is up at six in the morning I have to get up, because I have no curtains yet!” An eye roll and a heavy sigh were the only other things he had to offer on the matter, before he flopped backwards onto his mattress again, dark hair fanning out around him on the white sheets.

“Jeno-hyung came over and set up my PS4 the other day,” he informed the camera, a smile already on his face again. “Because.. Of course he did. I think he’s only going to come over to play on it, and not talk to me or Jisung.” He tutted and pulled an expression of faux disappointment, his smile gone just as fast as it had appeared. “Such a bad hyung, really.”

There was a lapse into silence again, which was soon populated by Kihyun’s absentminded humming as he looked blankly at his room; almost on the verge of dozing off again. He snapped back into himself for the second time in the short segment and pointed at the camera, grinning.

“I bet our Jisungie is gonna call for me in a minute to try and wheedle me into making breakfast. We’re both pretty hopeless, there might really be an accident one day.” He snickered at his own words, camera shaking a little from the force of his laughter. “We’re mostly been living off of ramen and takeout these past few weeks—I ordered some dessert the other day, it was so good..” His gaze slid off-screen again, as if he was imagining the food, before he looked back and started to defend himself.

“But we have been cooking some things! I made really good waffles the other day, you can even ask Chenle. He came round as soon as I told him I was making some, that freeloader.”

Kihyun’s mouth opened to carry on talking, but a faint call of “Hyung!” from outside his door stopped him in his tracks. He levelled a look at the camera that had ‘I told you so’ written all over it.

“I told you he’d call. Well, I guess I’d better go and help him out before he starts a fire.” The tone of his voice made it sound like it was a terrible hardship, but really he was already standing up to go and see what the Dream maknae wanted, a small smile on his lips.

“Bye, everyone!” His hand raised in a wave just as it did at the beginning of the segment, only this time it was a lot more vigorous in manner. He granted the screen a final wink, before his hand came up to cover it completely, and the scene cut to black.

⠀⠀( SCENE CHANGE ⟡ )⠀the camera pointed down at (presumably kihyun’s) shoes as he fiddled with something—the faint sounds of a door code being pressed in audible. the door unlocked, he stepped inside, and soon afterwards his face was back in view.

He full-on grinned at the camera, pearly whites in full view, and nodded his head in lieu of a wave, arms raising a little as he did a spin in the room he was in, moving too fast for anything to be fully discernible in detail.

“Hello! I’m at Jeno-hyung’s apartment—or maybe cave would be a better name for it? Anyway, he texted me begging for his favourite dongsaeng’s company, and I was forced to do as he said.”

Leaving his shoes neatly lined up by the front door, Kihyun’s footsteps were almost silent as he made his way across the floor towards Jeno’s bedroom. He made a ‘shhh’ motion at the screen before he went to push it open, as if something on the other side would make a noise to give him away, and then propped the camera up on Jeno’s desk so it could clearly capture him collapsing on top of the older rapper with zero remorse, delighting in the nearly immediate groan his action elicited. A head of sleep-mussed hair soon came into view when Jeno shifted into a sitting position, but Kihyun made no attempt to move, and it didn’t take long for the older member to give in and start running his fingers through dark strands of hair, pulling idly every now and again and snickering when Kihyun whined in retaliation.

Once he’d had enough of the hair-pulling, the vocalist sat up again and started trying to pull Jeno out of his bed, to no success. He huffed in disappointment, trudged back over to the desk to retrieve his camera, and then walked straight back over to Jeno, practically shoving the device in his face and making sure to catch the sight of him in full focus.

“I’m ruining your public image. All your stan accounts are going to leave you after this, hyung, for real. It’ll only be me and Mark-hyung left.”

Jeno only levelled a flat look at Kihyun over the viewfinder, entirely unaffected. The vocalist again resorted to whinging.

“Stop being such a shut-in, hyung! At least order brunch for me. We can stay in if we have to—but only if you don’t try to make me play PUBG. We can start that series on our list.”

He did get a reaction for that: a slow nod, the beginning of a smile inching its way across Jeno’s lips. Kihyun deemed it more than good enough, and then turned his attention back to the camera, eyes flicking back and forth from the screen to where Jeno was presumably getting up and out of bed, going by the groans and the soft rustling of bed sheets.

“I’d better cut the cameras for now, no one wants to see Jeno-hyung naked.” He paused, and then snickered and corrected himself. “Actually, I bet you all want to see that. Weirdos. But you can’t! I’ll show you the food he’s gonna buy me, though.”

The scene cut from Jeno’s bedroom to a kitchen island, a cardboard container full of french toast sat atop it and Kihyun with a fork in hand, the older member beside him with his own food. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, and the vocalist shoved his box closer to the camera in order to show it off.

“Look! I’ve been craving this for so long. I had a dream about it the other night, I swear..”

Jeno snorted from his place next to him, pushing the food in his mouth to one side before he piped up with a comment. “No you didn’t.”

Kihyun made a noise of indignance. “Did!”

“Didn’t.”

“Did! This is why Haechannie-hyung is my favourite.”

The rapper raised an eyebrow, stabbing his fork into another piece of pancake in his container. “The other day it was Mark-hyung. Make your mind up.”

Shrugging, the younger chewed through his mouthful and then waved the utensil around in the air, Jeno half-ducking in fear he’d get an eye taken out. “All hyungs are my favourite, then. Just not you.”

Despite his words, Kihyun was shuffling ever closer to the man next to him, and Jeno was rolling his eyes even as he did the exact same thing. They sat like that, with almost no space between them, even with how difficult it made eating the food Jeno had ordered, for a few minutes more before Kihyun suddenly seemed to remember the camera on the pair of them, and leaned back over towards it.

“Well, everyone, you don’t want to sit and watch me and hyung watch The 8 Show, do you? So I guess I’d better go now. Say bye, hyung!”

The rapper waved obediently, chewing through another piece of pancake, and Kihyun followed soon afterwards. It carried on until it was obvious the vocalist’s arm was tiring, and so he reached forward to cover the screen with his palm, and all went dark.

⠀⠀( SCENE CHANGE ⟡ )⠀a close-up of johnny’s face: cheeks puffed out and eyes crossed in an obvious attempt to make kihyun laugh—which worked, of course. the camera zoomed out to reveal both the former, the latter, and niko all standing in a clothes store of some sort.

Johnny smiled as soon as the camera was back on him, striking a pose and holding it as he spoke.

“Welcome back to another episode of Johnny’s Communication Centre, everyone! Today I’m at a massive mall, with my trusty assistant DJ KD, and amateur baker Juni. We’re gonna be—”

He was cut off by a leg swinging at him, and he jumped back a few steps in order to avoid it, making sure not to fall straight into some clothing racks while Kihyun turned the camera back onto himself to greet it properly.

“This is not a JCC episode! Stop trying to commandeer my vlog, hyung. Not cool.” He stuck a tongue out at the man in question, who just laughed it off and let the Dream member carry on speaking. Niko remained silent, only rolling his eyes at the antics.

“Anyway. Welcome back to my—Im Kihyun of NCT Dream—vlog! I’m with Johnny-hyung and Nini-hyung. We’re shopping! I really need some new shoes..”

Niko spoke up for the first time, snickering to himself as he did so. “You really don’t, actually.”

Kihyun’s mouth dropped open in offence, and before he could protest Johnny was jumping in, resting his arm on Niko’s shoulder.

“He’s right, Ki. It took me and Jaehyunie to carry all those boxes into your apartment, remember? Maybe just stick to clothes this time.”

Despite him not sounding particularly happy about it, Kihyun agreed to the terms set for him before he was making a start towards the other racks full of clothing deeper inside the store. Johnny could be seen trailing behind him, likely to make sure he wouldn’t stray from his promise, while Niko hung back to take a closer look at something that had presumably caught his eye.

He eventually came to a stop and tilted to the camera to show off what he’d found: hoodies. The viewpoint shifted from eye-level to slightly lower down as Kihyun propped the camera up on something so he could properly rifle through the items on offer, and silence was all that followed as he took a few minutes to inspect them all; the only sounds being the generic house music being played through the store’s speakers and Kihyun’s faint humming under his breath.

Once he’d come to a decision, he held his first pick of the day up to the camera and grinned. It was plain black in colour, a faded graphic of a band logo splayed across the back. “What do we think?”

Niko suddenly appeared behind him, peering down at the piece of clothing in his hands and grinning when the younger dancer startled at his arrival. “Cute. But I have a feeling that’s not all you’re going to walk out of here with.”

And, of course, Niko was right. The rest of the segment had been edited in post to be sped up slightly with a favourite song of Kihyun’s playing softly over the top, as the trio perused the many aisles and made their choices with the air of experienced shoppers.

It came back to its original speed once all three had paid, and settled in at a booth in a coffee shop just across from the store. Kihyun was squeezed in between both of the older men, and looked anything but displeased about his position.

“Okay,” he began, palms interlocked as if he was about to pitch a business proposal. “Haul time! Johnny-hyung can go first.”

“Am I supposed to get it all out here on the table?” Johnny was grinning as he asked, the expression stretching wider as Kihyun rolled his eyes. “I’ll knock your mug over.”

“I’ll knock your mug over. Just.. I don’t know, show them carefully! And make sure not to elbow me, hyung. I’ll get you back, for real.”

Carefully, as was requested of him, Johnny proceeded to show off the things he’d purchased: a cap that he stuck atop Kihyun’s head once he was finished flaunting it around, a pair of shoes that Niko thought were ‘absolutely hideous, hyung, oh my god,’ and finally a pair of tees covered in patterns that made his two companions burst into laughter; which then proceeded to make him make a show of a fake sulking episode until he’d been won back over with a side hug.

Niko went next, but not before taking a jab at the youngest in the middle for presuming himself the ‘best and last.’ A pair of jeans and a leather jacket were all he’d bought, as he complained that the rest of his time had been taken up by the other two begging for his opinions on various things—a statement that was sheepishly admitted to by both of them.

Finally, Kihyun took his turn. It took a little more manoeuvring, what with him being squished in between the other two, but in the end he’d shown it all off successfully: the hoodie that had been featured earlier, a varsity jacket he informed the camera he’d has his eye on for months, and a pair of cargo pants with various miscellaneous shapes stitched on in all the vibrant colours a person could think of.

“I would’ve gotten these really nice shoes, too..” He trailed off to a shoot a look to both of his older group members before continuing with an overexaggerated huff, slumped over on their table. “But they wouldn’t let me! So maybe next time.”

He sat back upright with a sudden burst of energy, hands waving vigorously as he spoke. “Anyway, that’s the end of this part! Say bye, hyungs!”

They did as told, waving along with the youngest, and then the screen once again cut to darkness.

⠀⠀( SCENE CHANGE ⟡ )⠀another extreme close-up, this time of kihyun’s face, before he moved the camera away from himself to showcase his position. he was sat in his doorway, bag by his side and shoes already on.

“Marzi-noona is gonna pick me up,” Kihyun informed the camera, shaking his bag and smiling as it jingled with the force of all the charms and keychains attached to it. “We’re going for a little drive, and then getting coffee! And maybe some cake, too? I’ve really been wanting something sweet. I always want something sweet.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and Kihyun sprang up to answer it, pulling it open as quick as he could to let his friend in. Greetings were exchanged, and then he held the camera up above the both of them. Marzi smiled when she came into view, pairing it with a small wave.

“Noona, pose!” Came Kihyun’s exclamation, immediately following the command by cocking a hip and pulling out a peace sign to complete the look. Marzi rolled her eyes at the dramatics but did as told anyway, choosing a much simpler cheek heart and only holding it for a second or two before her hand dropped back to her side.

“Should we get going, then, Kihyun-ah?”

He nodded in affirmation and set about sorting out his bag from where it rested over his shoulder, turning his head to call back into the apartment before they left it.

“See you later, Jisungie! Love you!”

There was a faint “Bye, hyung!” audible in reply, and then the pair were off down the hallway, door locked behind them. Kihyun made a sound of awe at the car that he’d been picked up in, before wasting no time pulling open the door to the passenger seat and hopping inside, propping his camera up on the dashboard in the middle of the two and then immediately reaching out with wiggling fingers to the touchpad that sat below. Marzi swatted his hand away, but only kept him from meddling until she’d started to pull out onto the main road.

“Does this mean I’m on aux, noona?”

She shot him a wary look as they came to a stop for a moment. “Well, yeah. But don’t make me regret it.”

By the look on Kihyun’s face, it was already far too late for that. He took a few moments to connect his phone, and then the familiar shout of ‘gimme that beat!’ betrayed his choice immediately. Marzi groaned, but still sang along with him when the first verse began, the two of them harmonising as she drove on.

He cycled through a large variety of songs as they drove on, favourites from the both of them, and the pair of them were singing nearly the whole time; only taking breaks here and there for short conversations when a specific topic came to mind. Kihyun was obviously the more expressive in his performances, seeing as he wasn't the one behind the wheel, and he had enough dramatics for the both of them put together. Every other motion was an emotional clutch at his chest, throwing his head back to scream into an imaginary microphone, hands moving erratically as he acted along to instrumentals. He was turning in his seat, leg moving up and down, his head following suit—pulling out as many stops as he could get away with while still being confined by his seatbelt and space in his seat. Marzi also joined in the best she could, fingers tapping out the beat onto the leather cover of her steering wheel.

They drove for a little while longer, Kihyun informing the camera that they were finishing off a playlist, before they finally came to a lasting stop at the café he’d mentioned in passing while he was waiting to be picked up.

“I’m so ready to eat the first thing I, like, set my eyes on. It just all looks so good! I might start drooling.”

The look Marzi sent him for that comment was a mix of concern and mild disgust, and he snickered in return. A bell chimed from above the door as he pushed it open, and his head bowed along with the polite greetings leaving his lips as the two of them stepped inside. They settled at a window table, and once again Kihyun placed the camera in between them before he then leaned over in order for his head to be in frame (and also nearly flat on the table’s surface).

“There were so many yummy-looking things in those display cases, wow. We’re spoiled for choice. Can I get all of it?”

His last question was directed at his companion, who laughed lightly but still shook her head, dark hair falling around her shoulders as she did so. “What are you asking me for? Whatever you get, you’re paying for, Kihyun-ah.”

That got a whine out of him, a pout pulling out his lips as he pressed his palms together in a praying (or in this case, begging) motion. “Please, noona? You can’t treat your favourite dongsaeng just this once?”

She laughed again, and louder this time, clearly not affected at all by the performance. “Favourite is a stretch. And I’ve treated you before—A couple weeks ago, even! And even more before that.”

Kihyun gasped, dropping his begging act for the time being and covering the camera with the palm of one his now-free hands. “Don’t out me as a liar to the viewers, noona! Just pretend!”

“Never.” Her smirk was clear even if the screen was still covered.

The bickering continued for a little while longer until a waitress interrupted them to ask if they’d made up their minds, and from there they dropped the subject and made more quiet conversation, talking of everything they’d could think of to catch each other up on—from music, to movies, to the latest meal they’d shared with another one of either of their fellow members, to all the things they struggled with during their last training session. They talked, and talked, and talked, until their mugs were finally empty even after their second and third refill and their plates were clean (Kihyun had taken a ridiculous amount of time showing off his cheesecake slice, while Marzi had skipped the impromptu food show and gotten straight to digging in). After they’d paid—an even split bill, as per the earlier warning—they were waving their goodbyes to the quaint little café and returning to the car, Kihyun keeping it in his hold rather than propping it up again.

“I think that’ll be all from us now. We had the performance on the way here, it won’t be that fun to watch all over again. Wave with me, noona!”

She did just that, waving her goodbyes in time with the younger singer, and then the segment cut when he used the dark leather of the seats to create the black screen

⠀⠀( SCENE CHANGE ⟡ )⠀a dark eye, and nothing more until a slow zoom out revealed white fur. daegal jumped up at kihyun’s legs once he’d fully removed the camera from her space, and he cooed at her for it, indulging in a few pats before addressing the camera.

“I’m stealing Daegalie,” Kihyun announced, bending down again to properly pick her up. His next words were a little interrupted due to the licks that had promptly started to attack his face, but he did his best to string a proper sentence together.

“But before I steal her, me and ‘Le are going out for dinner—his treat! Because he just loves me so much—and then maybe some karaoke. He says he wants to try a song I sent him the other day.”

He carefully set his camera down on the floor so he could sit and entertain Daegal properly, and a few minutes later another person’s legs entered the frame, bending down to reveal Chenle tilting his head at the camera screen.

“A vlog? Well, I guess it wouldn’t be complete without an appearance from me. I’m the one who gives you all your viewers.”

Kihyun snorted, not looking up from Daegal as he replied. “As if! You make my views go down, if anything.”

They shared a laugh, and Kihyun stood once more to presumably wrap Chenle in a hug—the camera was still on the floor, Daegal walking over and giving it a curious sniff while the two vocalists said their hellos. It was quickly retrieved after a few moments more of their idle conversation, and they both came into clear view again.

“Filming the car ride would be boring, so.. I’ll see you at the restaurant!” He informed the camera, before Chenle took over the palm-covering tradition and all went black. It cut to a warmly-lit interior, the bustle of conversation and sizzling of various grills around the room audible. The pair were tucked into a corner table, away from most of the other patrons, and looked to be halfway into their meal already—Chenle in the middle of taking a swig of whatever was in his glass while Kihyun waved to the camera with a skewer in hand.

“Sorry! I completely forgot about you for a moment.. The food was just too good, I guess.”

Chenle swallowed just to tut condescendingly, shaking his head with a look of grave disappointment on his face. “Forgetting about our Czennies? For shame, Kyun, for shame.”

For that comment Kihyun made to hit him with his skewer, and Chenle responded in kind with his hand. They went back and forth like that until the latter nearly knocked over his glass, and both of them burst into laughter before ending their pseudo-fight.

A conversation started up with ease, and they fell back into their own little world for a while, despite Chenle’s earlier jab at Kihyun ‘forgetting’ the viewers-to-be. They finished off their food slowly, ordering another round and clinking their glasses together in a toast just for the fun of it. Chenle suggested trying a love shot (which, of course, prompted Kihyun to burst into song and replicate the choreography as best he could while still in the confines of his chair), but they decided against it when taking into consideration all of the easily-broken dishes still sitting between them; instead agreeing that they’d try it at the karaoke place they were hitting next.

Once the plates had been cleared and bill had been paid, the two were off again—Kihyun doing the palm-transition this time around, and cutting to a dark room only lit by the disco lighting spotting the walls and the two singers themselves in blues, yellows, reds, purples. The camera was sitting on the glass table in front of them, soju bottle visible off to the side and a couple of shot glasses next to it, as well as Kihyun’s mic. Chenle had his own microphone in one hand and the song book in the other, eyes squinting through the semi-darkness in search for the earlier off-handed mention of the song his companion had introduced him to. He made a noise of satisfaction once it had been found, and then discarded the book to the table in favour of the remote for the television before the two of them.

Kihyun was focused on pouring their drinks, and, just before Chenle began his first song, wheedled him into trying their love shot sooner rather than later. It was still a little awkward to manoeuvre, even with the larger amount of space they had, but they managed it in the end and shared a cheer after the fact.

The rest of the night passed in an almost blur of colours, of music, of harmonising between the two best friends whenever they tackled a duet (or, on occasion, a group song; divvying up the parts as equally as they could or simply jumping in and dropping out when they pleased, happy to let the other take over), and of soju. Two empty bottles stood side-by-side once they finally came to the end of their last chosen song—one by their shared group, as a proper send-off—and Kihyun was contemplating buying another before they got back to Chenle’s, which the other firmly voted against. The latter was also the one to pick up the camera from the place it had been nestled in for most of the second half of their night and hold it above their heads to catch them both in the frame; Kihyun’s arms sneaking around his fellow’s vocalists waist in a comfortable hug as he did so.

“Well,” Chenle informed the camera, visibly trying to fight off the smile from spreading on his face at the affection he was receiving. “KD is staying over, because I’m the most generous out of all of his best friends—and his favourite, obviously—and we’re gonna do so many things his camera would die. So I think we’ll cut it off here. We’re a little drunk, too, so.. Yeah!”

He granted a far-too-enthusiastic wave at the camera, both his hand and the arm holding it shaking wildly. Kihyun followed suit, and together the two of them shouted their ‘love you’s and ‘goodbye’s until suddenly the camera was falling down, down, down, and there was the faint sound of a muffled swear as Kihyun scrambled to retrieve his camera and Chenle burst into cackles at the accident. The last shot of the segment was of Kihyun’s worried face melting into one of pure relief as he realised nothing was broken, before he sent a thankful wink towards the screen and all went black.

⠀⠀( SCENE CHANGE ⟡ )⠀a simple and quiet shot of mark sitting on a bench alone, obviously having been asked to by kihyun, before his stoic act cracked and his face split open into a sunny smile, one hand raising to beckon the vocalist over.

“Hello, everyone!” Kihyun greeted, the camera shaking with every step he took towards Mark, capturing perfectly the grin on the rapper’s face seeing as the screen was still turned towards him. “We’re going on our walk again tonight. It’s been a while!”

“It has,” Mark agreed with a nod, standing from his seat and slinging an arm around Kihyun’s shoulder while the latter tilted the camera to include the both of them. “I’ve missed it, Kyunnie-yah.”

An aborted squeal broke from Kihyun’s lips, and all went blurry as he turned right in the middle of the path to tackle Mark in a hug, which was of course reciprocated with an only slightly wheezy laugh.

Once they’d separated, the vocalist turned his eyes back on the camera to state, matter-of-factly, that “Walks are best when they’re really late. It’s, like—” He trailed off to fish his phone out of his pocket, turning it on and over to show the numbers 01:33 AM on the screen (albeit backwards), a photo of Jaemin against the sunset just behind them. It was tucked back away a mere few moments later, and Kihyun picked up where he’d left off. “—half one! Exactly! When you know all the good places—like we do—then you’ll have the best midnight walk of your life.”

Mark had been nodding along once more in agreement throughout the whole mini speech, but perked up to tack on a “But make sure to stay safe!” to the end of Kihyun’s sentence, to which the vocalist vigorously reiterated with a thumbs-up he crushed against the camera a few times to really hammer the point home. He then swivelled the camera around to primarily focus on the views ahead of them, the pathway beneath their feet and the greenery either side of their walkway, street lamps dotted around every few feet and the never-ending skyline of the rest of Seoul; its abundance of glittering buildings and hum of life in amongst them just visible in the background, nearly a blur.

The pair walked on for a little while longer, making idle conversation about anything and everything that came to their minds, before a comfortable silence fell over them and the focus was purely on all that was in front of them.

“I really like this,” Kihyun suddenly confessed in a slightly quieter voice, coming to a standstill for a few moments as if to really take in the world around him—despite the fact he’d said the pair had done this multiple times before.

“With Mark-hyung especially, too. I don’t know. It’s just.. Peaceful. And we can talk about music, or the others, or, I don’t know, what boring books he’s reading—or even nothing at all. We don’t have to be all sparkly, even if we’re in the dark.”

The heartfelt words were something of a mood shift, and the quiet sound of fabric rustling was the only thing that gave away the hug Mark was likely wrapping the vocalist in. When the camera swung downwards for a second, their hands could be seen joined together.

They stayed that way for the rest of their journey, only pressing closer together when they passed the odd dogwalker or lone stranger on the way. No conversation was made, and once again some soft music had been edited over the top in post. The end of the pathway opened out onto a street running alongside a main road that led back into the city, and the pair took a break on a nearby bench and watched the cars pass by for a minute or two, Kihyun speaking up again after a yawn had escaped his mouth.

“Afterwards we normally take turns to sleep over! It’s.. hyung’s, I think?” He turned to Mark to confirm, and the rapper sent him a double thumbs-up. “So we’ll go back to mine and Jisungie’s place! He’s probably still up gaming..”

They both shared a snicker at the maknae’s bad habits, and after it had petered off Kihyun carried on.

“Anyway, I’ll cut back when we’re there. A sleepover! I’m excited. We haven’t had one since I was still living in the dorms.”

The low light went even lower when Kihyun smushed the screen into the fabric of his hoodie, and then the pair were in his (now fully unpacked, curtains at the window and all) room, huddled just as close as they had been when they were out.

“We’re gonna watch a movie!” Was Kihyun’s enthusiastic announcement, jostling the small bowl of sweets nestled between them as he did so. He didn’t seem to care that it was in the very earliest hours of the morning, and neither did Mark beside him. “In English, too!” He added, with a confident nod. “It’s practice for me. Way better than English lessons, for sure.”

“You’ll be fluent in no time, dude,” came Mark’s encouragement, a hand coming up to ruffle the top of Kihyun’s head, to his (mock) displeasure. They swatted back and forth at one another for a second or two until

Kihyun moved his eyes back to the camera, and saluted in what was assumedly a goodbye.

“I’ll see you all later, then! Maybe I’ll send a few messages after the movie.. We’ll see. Say bye, Mark-hyung!”

He did what was asked of him easily, a smile and a wave of goodbye from both hands following straight after the request, and Kihyun pushed the camera forwards in place of a transition—unafraid of letting it fall this time around, what with his bed as the perfect safety net—and all, as usual, went black.

⠀⠀( SCENE CHANGE ⟡ )⠀the light was low, and the camera took a few tries to focus on kihyun led in a bed that didn’t look like his own. hendery then popped his head into frame, the pair next to one another under the duvet.

“Hi,” came Hendery’s voice first, jumping in with a greeting just as Kihyun had opened his mouth. It earned him a dirty look, but he just smiled and dropped his head atop the vocalist’s, curling closer to his warmth.

“Anyway,” Kihyun carried on, shooting one more evil eye Hendery’s way for good measure before focusing back on the camera. “What I was going to say was hello—but also.. Goodbye, I think? The last thing I filmed for this was.. My walk with Mark-hyung, I think. Or was it that thing with Jaemin-hyung? Either way, this is just meant to be a little outro.”

“What?!” Came Hendery’s exclamation from next to him, Kihyun tilting the camera with a snicker to capture both the ever-so-offended look on the rapper’s face and his dramatic retreat from the latter’s personal space. “So I don’t even get a full segment? Your favourite favourite? Your best friend since before birth?! I’m leaving.”

The vocalist looked completely unbothered by the declaration, burrowing further underneath the duvet until only his head from the chin upwards and part of the arm holding the camera up were visible. “Leave, then. That just means I get to keep your bed, hyung.”

Hendery was right next to Kihyun again in the next second, an innocent smile on his face like nothing had ever happened. Kihyun scoffed and rolled his eyes in return, but there was a grin stretching across his lips also. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

They both dissolved into a fit of helpless laughs afterwards, camera shaking in the vocalist’s one-handed hold until it eventually fell out of his hand altogether, crashing into the sheets—and also Kihyun’s leg, if his sudden yelp of pain was any indication. It was retrieved by his companion, and came back into focus once again, wide grins still on both of their faces and the occasional hiccupy giggles still breaking through. Kihyun then cleared his throat and sat up straight, reclaiming the camera back from Hendery, and spoke his next words with a blank look on his face and a tone of attempted professionalism.

“Moving on. You’ll get a segment another time, hyung. A whole vlog just with you, even! Don’t be jealous, I spend loads of my offtime with you. And just because this is meant to be an outro doesn’t mean this isn’t a segment too!”

Hendery sighed and sat up also, just enough to flop his head down upon Kihyun’s shoulder with a loud sigh. “I guess. Say bye, then.”

“So demanding,” Kihyun teased, another smile tugging at his lips. “What should we do after I turn it off, anyway?”

The rapper shot his companion a look of slight confusion, as if unsure as to why no ‘goodbye’s were being given. Kihyun snorted at the expression.

“I’ll be giving you more screen time this way. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Suddenly invigorated by the premise, Hendery lifted his head with bright eyes and a pearly whites-flashing grin, hands interlocked in his lap and legs shifting underneath the duvet like he was folding one over the other. “Let’s order food! And play a game!”

As soon as the word ‘game’ was mentioned, Kihyun’s expression deflated and he huffed in retaliation. “Do we have to? I hate video games.”

“Tough,” came the gleeful response, followed shortly afterwards by “I’ll let you have the creeper controller.”

That, of course, got his attention immediately. “Deal.”

Hendery cheered in celebration, and heaved himself out of his bed to busy himself with setting up the aforementioned game. Kihyun turned to face the camera and waved with his free hand, a small movement of his fingertips back and forth.

“I guess this is when I should wrap this vlog up now, isn’t it? I have food to order. And.. games to play, even if I’d rather not. What are you feeling for food, hyung?” The last question was of course directed off screen, and there was a moment of silence where Hendery was assumedly taking a second to think that was soon filled by the sound of his games console powering on.

“Pizza, for sure,” came his definite answer, the firm nod of his head almost audible. “Full grease.”

Kihyun gave him a thumbs-up, before it morphed into a peace sign when he turned to the camera screen for the final time. “I’d better get to it, then. This is goodbye from me! I hope you enjoyed the vlog, whichever clips I choose for it. And there’s definitely gonna be more, so look out for those!”

With that, he blew a loud kiss into the screen, and slowly brought his hand up to cover the lens until all went dark for the last time.

includes⠀@northstarco⠀@mar-zi

#⠀૮ ᴖﻌᴖა⠀DRIVE ME CRAZY ✱⠀⠀——⠀⠀writing.#ignore tje fact this has their (albeit barely obvious) dreamscape pfp! very obviously shows how behind i was!#nct dream added member #nct oc addition #nct dream 8th member #nct addition #nct oc #kpop idol oc #kpop addition #kpop male oc #fictional idol community

26 notes · View notes