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apompkwrites · 9 months ago

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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.

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forevamark · 2 months ago

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time lapse | 1. dreams and all

remember when i said ‘would be posted tomorrow.��..?

... and that was like... 2 years ago? well i lied. LOL life has been rough lately but alas my pride and joy is finished.

Pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

Tags: pre idol debut to idol au, christmas and new years time line, slice of life moments, college student reader, substantial plot leading to smut, very dialogue heavy, angsty moments, slow burn, relationship struggle, lovers to exes to lovers

Intended for 18+ readers, minors do not interact.

masterlist for time lapse

ᥫ᭡.next

Word Count : 6.1k+

Summary: Mark has always had the dream of becoming a big music star, meanwhile your aspirations lied with academics and coexisting with Mark. Mark struggles with telling reader that he will be leaving for Korea to pursue his music career very soon, in fear of losing what they have.

warnings are under the tab for chapters that apply.

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

“What do you think about this?” Mark asked as he sat above you strumming on his guitar. You were sitting on the floor between his legs focused on your eight-page paper.

“In a sec,” you reply while wrapping up the sentence you were on.

“Take a break…” Mark whined trying to pry the laptop from your speedy fingers.

“Mark, it’s due in two days. I will listen in a sec.”

“Mhmm.” He sulked, leaning back into the sofa and continuing his chord progression.

Days like this were stressful- due to the plethora of assignments that piled on- but soothing in a way. Your schedules never aligned this often, but Mark was so entirely enamored with you that he’d do anything to spend his free time just being with you.

“I can’t believe it’s been three hours and I only have my thesis done,” you sighed while resting your head on his knee.

“You got this,” he replies while running a hand soothingly through your hair while the other writes something down on the notepad next to him, “I believe in you.”

“Do you need anything to help you focus? Am I being too loud?” he asks while going to the kitchen and lighting your favorite candle, “I can make you a snack?”

“Do you mind getting me some fruit? I feel like I need some brain food.” You asked while cracking your knuckles and continuing to type away.

Mark nods and walks back over, handing you a cut persimmon with the skin peeled off. He always knew what you needed before even saying it out loud.

Humming in appreciation you immediately start chewing on the sliced fruit.

Eyeing him from the corner you see him looking out of your apartment window. It was raining hard outside, Mark’s favorite.

“Anything else you need to work on?” you ask. He shrugs his shoulders.

“Not much else, I want your opinion on what I have then I’ll see what I can add from there. Don’t worry though,” he turns to look at you with a small smile, “I can wait.”

Mark has always been supportive of your dreams and aspirations. It was a shock when he told you he wouldn’t be joining you at university, but rather pursuing music instead. Although an adjustment, you supported him and he rooted for you. It seemed to be working out, he passed the first two rounds of auditions for a big music company and it looked like things were finally looking up for him.

Some days you wouldn’t see him at all, and some days he picked you up from class and would stay glued to your side. He claims that he ‘soaked up inspiration from you’ hence the constant quality time and skinship. He knew you were working hard, pursuing a higher education was so important to you and your family, and he wanted to be present every step of the way.

Unbeknownst to you, Mark also had a dark cloud overlooking him just like the city in front of him. He hasn’t yet told you that he passed the third and final round of auditions for his company and would be slated to move to Korea before the end of the year to begin his training. He couldn’t bear to break the news to you, not yet. Not when you were so close to finishing one of your hardest semesters yet.

“I think I can pull you away from that screen now y/n,” he says while tugging you away from the black-and-white screen.

“Hey! I’m not finished yet! I thought you said you could wait” you pouted trying to get loose.

“You’ve been working nonstop, you aren’t being as productive anymore.” He chuckles while slotting you to the seat across from him.

“Hi.” he smiles at you.

“Hi,” you respond.

There’s a moment of silence shared between you two. The only sound was the soft pitter-patter from outside hitting the patio. Mark stares at you lovingly, you can tell something is wrong but you can’t find the words to ask him just yet, too entranced by the current hold he has on you.

“So, the song, yeah?” you finally whisper aloud.

“Hold on,” he replies, licking his lips and searching every inch of your face, memorizing this very moment to inspire him for what he’s about to play.

“What’s the holdup? Don’t get stage fright in front of me now Lee,” you lightly say while giggling.

“I, I just want to make you proud, okay?” he finally says with sad eyes.

“You always will, Mark.”

Guilt washed over Mark. Things were great, perfect even. But he just had to aspire for more. He should be satisfied with what he has now, he’s close to home, has a stable music career here in Canada, and most importantly, you. But just like you, he had the moon but he wanted every damn star in the galaxy. He didn’t want change, but nothing could satiate the hunger for something more. He was leaving, because he knew that this life, now, isn’t enough.

“Okay.” he takes a moment to gather himself, taking in some deep breaks and shaking his nerves out through his hands.

“Let’s hear it!” you shuffle sitting up straight in your chair.

Mark lets out one final breath before starting a low strum on his guitar. Flashes of memories throughout your relationship flash before his eyes. Your first snow day in Canada when you couldn’t get the ice off of your windshield, to the countless nights of watching reruns of Glee in your small shared apartment.

He hits the chorus for the first time, opening his eyes to look around the room, unable to look at you just yet. Pictures of you two littered the walls, filled with your smiling and laughing faces.

Mark mumbles small noises of nonsense to fill in the parts he doesn’t know what to put in between, sometimes trying out some lyrics at the top of his head. He shakes his head and chuckles when words don’t rhyme or quite fit, in return you share a smile enjoying him delving into his craft.

There’s something about the way that Mark can lose himself completely, in his little world and for brief moments you’re able to enter his mind, envisioning every note in a flow of synesthesia. He’s able to create color and landscape through sound, and what’s crazier is that he doesn’t even realize the extent of his art.

“And… I guess that’s it. What’d you think?” He asks as he lets out a final strum. The warmness of his music is still palpable in the room, despite the cold and dark weather that demands to be let inside.

You take another moment staring at the man in front of you. Mark bit his fingers in anticipation. His large white tee hung loosely on his shoulders, his ripped jeans bounced waiting for your feedback.

Everything is perfect.

Nothing can take this moment away from you two.

No words could exactly encapsulate how you felt so you decide to throw your arm around him.

Mark lets out a sigh of relief as he sets his guitar to the side, “So I guess you liked it?” then reciprocates by pulling you into his lap.

“I loved it, Mark. I can’t wait to hear it all together, I liked that chord progression, I can hear it on the radio one day,” you mutter into his shirt.

The pitter-patter of rain outside was accompanied by the soft whimpers from the man whose chin sat upon your head.

“I’m always going to be here for you y/n,” he jaggedly says.

You two sat in each other's embrace for what seemed like an eternity.

“Let me show you something,” he says, breaking the silence and adjusting your position to where your back is flush against him.

Mark sat the guitar in your hands, “Let’s start from the top, yeah?”

That night Mark taught you the song on his guitar, sometimes you filled in lyrics that felt right.

“They know we got the chemistry…” Mark sings.

“Love how your body feels on me, when you get back let me get that…” you finish with a small laugh.

“Yo!” he jumps up, lifting your laughing frame into the air, “That’s a bar!”

“Are you jealous that I may be a better rapper than you?” you giggle back.

��You’re coming for my career, baby girl!”

—

Six more hours.

Six more hours until this paper is due, and you’re almost done with this last page.

Six more hours until the hell that was this semester is finally done.

Six more hours until you can crawl into bed with Mark and take a long-deserved nap.

“Almost there baby,” Mark says while massaging your shoulders.

“I got this,” you say while typing furiously.

“Hell yeah, you do.”

Your train of thought was interrupted by Mark’s ringtone going off from behind you.

“I’ll be right back, when I come back you better have this paragraph done!”

Sending him a stiff salute you continued to trudge on as he stepped into your bedroom and closed the door.

“Mark! What’s going on my man? Happy holidays!” his new manager cheered into the phone.

“It’s going well, just spending some time with family and friends while I can,” he replies while lying down on your bed and grabbing a stuffed My Melody to hold against him.

“Well, I’m glad you have been enjoying your last moments of freedom while you can. Speaking of which, I do have an early Christmas present for you!”

“Awesome! What is it?”

“Well, the company wants you to start as soon as possible. I played them your audition and they think you can finish your training in less than a year!”

“That’s amazing!” Mark shoots up and runs his hands through his hair, “when do I fly out? Next year I hope?”

“Mark, I did say Christmas present didn’t I? You’ll leave the day after the 25th. I bought you some more time to spend with your family, but you’ll be spending the new year here, in Korea!”

Mark felt his heart drop. That was in two weeks.

Two weeks to eat all the food he can.

Two weeks to brush up on dancing.

Two weeks to say goodbye to his family.

Two weeks to erase all traces of his friend groups’ antics.

Two weeks till he has to leave you.

“Uh… two weeks… wow that’s really soon.”

“Absolutely! Now rest up Mark, this year is going to be the craziest experience of your life!”

His manager kept going on about the potential future he had coming for him. But Mark couldn’t seem to focus on all the newfound information. Slowly feeling the aroma of you envelop him fully, being surrounded by you everywhere, it was suffocating.

How is he going to tell you?

“I finished it!” he heard your jumps of triumph in the distance, echoing to the pits of his empty stomach, “I’m finally done with this God-awful semester! One more year till graduation!”

You burst through the door interrupting Mark’s pensive state, wrapping yourself into him.

“You okay babe?” you realize pulling away slowly, eyeing his sweating frame, “you look a bit sick, want me to make you some ramen?”

“Oh no I’m fine, just fine really,” he shallowly laughs pulling himself away from you and moving to turn on the fan, “just got a little warm is all.”

“Who called?” you asked before flopping on the bed and sighing, “was it your manager? Did you get the job?”

“Uh yeah…” he shuffled, not meeting your eyes, “It was my manager, he had some good news…”

“Oh my God, did you pass?” you pounced on him awaiting the news.

“Uh… yeah, I did.” he lied.

“Markie!” you showered him in kisses and tight squeezes, your love for him unfaltering, “When do you leave?”

“Not for another year,” he smiled, not looking at you.

“Hopefully you’ll still be here for my graduation…” you sighed, “Nonetheless I’m glad I get to keep you to myself for a bit longer.

—

December 25, 2022

“And this one's for you babe,” you smiled plopping the present into his hands. The Christmas tree behind him set the picture-perfect scene. Surrounded by your closest friends and family exchanging presents in your matching red and green pajamas, bellies full from the holiday feast, and presents waiting to be opened.

Mark happily obliged and ripped into the small package immediately. His eyes were wide as he lifted the contents with careful fingers.

“It’s a guitar pick,” you explained, seating yourself in his lap as he closely examined it, “so when you practice, you’ll always remember that I’m with you, cheering you on.”

Mark flipped the small piece over and nearly shed a tear at the small gold embossed scrawling you had designed a tiny heart.

“But hey, just because you have this doesn’t mean you can just stop cutting your fingernails! Also, it’s a reminder of me scolding you to stop biting your nails!” he chuckled lightly.

Mark didn’t have any words, mostly scared that he was going to start choking up if he even dared to open his mouth.

His present for you sat heavy in his pocket, the box weighing him down, anchored to the floor. Or was it the guilt that sat in his chest?

“Mark!” your friend Izaiah shouted while making his way over, interrupting Mark’s contemplation, “Heard the great news! So excited for you man! Look at you, finally pursuing your passion!”

“Thank you, man, I appreciate it,” Mark responds, reaching a hand out to dap him up.

“Say, can’t believe you’re leaving so soon, what a shame, your mom has been a mess crying every time she hears your name.”

“We will make the most of the time we have together that’s for sure,” you interject snuggling into Mark.

“Well, you two better hurry,” Izaiah says while looking at his watch, “Time's ticking…”

“Well, good thing he is leaving-”

Mark suddenly stands up meeting Izaiah before you can finish your sentence, “Yeah I mean we will make it feel like a year that’s for sure! Gotta spend as much time with my baby as possible!” While patting his shoulder rather harshly and pleading with him with his eyes.

“Uh… Dude did you not-”

“Izaiah! Did you try the cherry cheesecake that y/n made? It’s so good! Let’s go have some now!”

“But I’m allergic!”

“Be right back babe just going to get a slice!”

Mark pulls Izaiah to the kitchen in a secluded corner.

“Did you seriously not tell her yet? You leave tomorrow! Eighteen hours to be exact!” He harshly whispers to Mark.

“I just haven’t had the right moment to tell her yet…” Mark sighs, running a hand through his hair, “It’s going to break her.”

“You know what might break her more? She wakes up tomorrow and goes over to your house to only be told you left the country!”

“I know!” Mark yells a bit too loudly. Everyone in the house turned to the shouting two with questioning eyes.

“Sorry folks! Just talking about some music things!”

“Mark, you are going to quite literally ruin y/n. The only thing you are accomplishing-”

“A toast!” The pair were interrupted by Mark’s parents who asked everyone to gather around.

“We are not done here, you will tell her tonight,” Izaiah states, shoulder-checking Mark before grabbing a champagne flute and joining everyone.

Mark takes a moment to collect himself before plastering a fake smile and rejoining at your side.

“Thank you, everyone, for joining us here tonight, as you all know Christmas is such a lovely time for all of us to reunite and enjoy each other’s company,” Mark’s dad announces.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen some of you, that I almost didn’t recognize a few!” a chorus of chuckles resounded before he cleared his voice and continued, “As some of you may or may not know, God has truly blessed one of our own with the opportunity of a lifetime,” everyone turned towards Mark with proud smiles, “And I would like to thank each and every one of you who supported and believed in our dear son. Mark, we are all so proud of you and can’t wait to see you make music for the whole world to hear!”

“That’s my boyfriend!” You shouted from the back, also receiving a coral of laughter.

“Though we may not see you for a while, just know we are rooting for you, all of us here at home, love you dearly,” his mom chimed in, raising her glass towards him, “to Mark.”

“To Mark!” Everyone cheered, raising their glasses in unison.

“To Mark…” you softly said confused while looking up at him.

Mark was sweating. Puddles.

He weakly lifted his glass and downed it in one gulp, not making eye contact with your questioning eyes beneath him.

“Baby? What does she mean for a while? You don’t leave for a long while?” you ask with lips pouted.

“Uh… I think she just means that you all won’t see me for a bit because… I uh… will be busy getting ready to leave for training is all! Yeah! I am just so excited to be diving into my craft!”

“Oh. Okay. She made it sound like you were leaving tomorrow or something,” you chuckled sipping from your glass, “So, what did you get me for Christmas?”

Already flustered, Mark was saved by his ringtone, “Not yet, lemme take this real quick, it’s my manager.”

You nodded, turning to wait for your turn for the karaoke microphone while he stepped out onto the porch in the cold.

“Merry Christmas Mark!” his manager sang to him, “How is your day going?”

“Uh…” he huffed out, a puff of visible breath leaving his mouth as he shivered, “It’s been good. Hard to say goodbye.”

“Well, it’s another Christmas miracle, Mark! Luckily for you, unlucky for the company, all the airports in Canada have been temporarily unable to send out or land any planes due to severe weather warnings so we won’t be able to fly you out for a bit. I went back and forth with the company and bought you some more time, so you’ll leave the first of the year! New year, new beginnings, am I right?”

Mark couldn’t believe his ears.

More time with you. More time to tell you.

“Are you serious?” he choked out.

“Yes! So please, tell that girlfriend of yours, I have a feeling you haven’t been able to break the news,” he pokes.

“Pshhh… what makes you think that?”

“Well, considering the first file you sent over to me of singing samples were painful ballads, I would guess that you haven’t told her or you two broke up. And I just know neither one of you could do that.”

Mark looks out down the street, blurry colors barely visible due to the heavy amounts of snow falling, “I’ll tell her soon. Just not on Christmas.”

The two spent a few more minutes talking about logistics and excitement before Mark went back inside.

How is he going to break the news to you?

–

Mark was able to successfully avoid you for the remainder of the party, too many aunties and uncles pulling him away to congratulate him- even sneaking a few bills and checks into his pocket- and asking way too many questions about the future that made his head spin.

From time to time he would look over and see you playing with the heaps of children with their new toys, or holding some lady’s newborn baby, or helping his mom pack people’s takeaway plates. One aunt had to quite literally snap her fingers in front of his face to redirect his attention because he couldn’t stop swooning over you holding a set of sleeping baby twins.

“I like her,” his aunt smiled while joining him in the hallway, “She’s the type you want to lock down.”

“I love her.”

“Then don’t break her heart, Mark, soon is coming whether you like it or not.”

You were now playing hide and seek with a few of the older kids and saw your bright red socks peeking out from under the tall curtains giving your spot away immediately.

“Only a coward will let something this small get in the way.” his aunt pats his shoulder before walking away.

—

“You know you never had the chance to give me your Christmas gift…” you trail while facetiming Mark in bed.

“You’ll get it soon, don't worry,” he laughs, shuffling the sheet music on his desk.

“You know, it is customary to exchange presents on Christmas right?”

“I am aware, I’ll give it to you next time I see you. New Year’s Eve right? We’re still going over to Izaiah’s?”

“I should be back by then.”

Trying to find the right time to tell you was arduous. The day after Christmas your family surprised you with a trip to New York to visit some of your family there. Just more time wasted where he couldn’t spend his last waking moments of freedom with you. Scrolling through Instagram, it tugged at his heartstrings seeing you smile and laugh with cousins you haven’t seen in a while, unaware of the disastrous news waiting for you at home with him.

Cheers to the end of Fall 2022! Your caption reads, a boomerang with you cheering to the camera, a pint of beer daring to spill over.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?” he asks.

“Nine pm,” you respond yawning, “a few more stops for sightseeing, then my cousin is dropping us off at the airport.

“Am I still picking you up to go back to the apartment?”

“Yes please.”

There was movement on your end of the camera due to your cousins wrestling you to the ground, trying to sneak a peek at Mark.

“Hi, hyung!” one of the younger ones shouted with a toothless smile.

“Hello hello! Please be careful with my girlfriend, she is highly valuable to me!” he chuckles, leaning back into his bed.

“No promises! She needs to take us ice skating now and she hasn’t gotten dressed yet!” he whines back.

“Okay okay, I surrender! Please get off, I’ll get ready now!”

Mark bids you a farewell and heads to bed.

One more sleep until it’s time to see you.

–

December 31, 2022

“Red or blue for tonight?” you shout from your closet.

“Hmm… I am wearing baby blue tonight. How about that dark blue dress you bought the other day?” Mark replies by sporting a towel around his waist and a toothbrush in his mouth.

“The sparkly one or the satin one?” you walk up behind him as he spits into the sink, taking in the options through the mirror.

“Definitely sparkly, it is New Year's Eve after all.”

“I don’t even want to go out…” you whine leaning onto Mark’s back and pecking his shoulder, “Can we just stay in…?” continuing a path of open mouth kisses to his neck.

“Hell no! Izaiah will kill us if we don’t show up! He’s been planning this all month!” he says trying not to give into your feeble attempts at seduction and focus on shaving his faint mustache.

“But I don’t wanna… the new year means another day closer to you leaving and I want to spend every minute with you!”

Mark’s back tenses at the mention of his departure.

“Yeah… me too baby,” he says, shrugging you off and heading towards the dresser to grab some boxers, “but let’s celebrate rather than think about that!”

The fresh hot shower couldn’t ease the nervousness that Mark felt. He was keeping this a secret.

Again.

From the moment he picked you up at the airport he tried, he really tried, to confess to you about his early departure. But the way you kept talking about your fun adventures from New York, he couldn’t just rain on your sunshine just quite yet. Then he decided he would tell you when you two got back to the apartment, after dinner. But you obviously had other plans as you decided to immediately jump his bones upon unlocking the front door. He even tried to disconnect your needy lips from his own, but alas he wasn’t just a man with needs- he was a simp with needs. And who was he to deny you of anything you wanted?

He decided now, as he was putting on his socks, that he was going to have to tell you before you two left for the party. Especially with how much of a loudmouth Izaiah is, everybody in attendance probably already heard of the news and his send-off the next morning.

Mustering up the courage to approach you, he eyed your frame standing at the mirror near the door, just putting the last of your lip gloss on for the night.

It’s now or never.

“Hey baby, I have something to tell you,” he said shakily, standing with knees that felt like they were going to give out any second.

“What’s up,” you respond, walking past him to grab your purse and then meeting him in the hallway.

“Just know, that I know that this is very last minute, and I probably should have told you sooner but I didn’t want to make the moment super emotional. I love you. You mean so entirely much to me, and I’m scared I would push you away,” he admits.

“Mark,” you start, taking his hand in yours to shut down his insecure thoughts, “It’s okay. I already know.”

“Wait you do?” he shouts incredulously, “who told you? Was it Izaiah? Oh my God, it was my mom wasn’t it? I told her not to say anything…”

“Baby no none of them told me, I was just waiting for you to show me?”

Mark cocked an eyebrow, “Show you…?”

“My Christmas present, right?” you chuckle shoving him lightly, “I don’t mind if you forgot, I know you’ve had a lot on your mind recently. So what, did it just come in or something? I’m sure the snowstorm probably delayed whatever it was.”

“Oh! Yeah… Right! Your Christmas present that’s what this is all about haha,” he says fumbling around then heads into the room to find the small box. The little angel on Mark’s shoulder was shouting at him to turn back around that instant to tell you the truth, meanwhile, the little insecure Mark on the other side sighed a breath he’d been holding in, glad to take a moment to collect himself. Mark reached into his bedside drawer and reappeared in the hallway to meet you.

“Merry belated Christmas, y/n,” he whispers, presenting the box.

“You’re not proposing to me, right?” you eye him breaking the palpable tension in the air, “because there is usually a part where you get on one knee and then there’s the speech.”

“No, no,” he laughs, “not yet at least,” he says with a wink, “gotta chase our dreams first.”

You open the tiny black box to be met with a small silver ring without a gemstone, but rather small engravings.

Forever it read on the outside

♡ Mark, it read on the inside.

“It’s a promise,” he starts, “a promise to forever be yours.”

He steps closer with every word, “a promise to forever be supporting you, near or far. A promise to love you even when you don’t love yourself.”

“And lastly,” tears pricked your eyes as you stared down at the ring, Mark so close that his breath fanned across your skin, “It’s a reminder that no matter how much of a dream this opportunity is, that you, you y/n, are my dream.”

He slots the ring on your manicured pinky before sliding his to intertwine with yours, “I promise, that I love you.”

Time stood still at that moment. Nothing could pull you two apart. Standing together with pinkies interlocked.

“I love you Mark, dream and all.”

“I love you forever.”

“Dream and all.”

–

“Finally they’re here!”

Izaiah did outdo himself with this party. Lights were strung up along the ceiling and banisters, bottles of alcohol lined the kitchen tables, and so many people there that they had to park around the block.

As Mark's heart sank with the weight of his secret, the party continued in the background. The music was loud, and people were dancing and laughing, unaware of the turmoil that was unfolding between you and Mark.

Confetti rained down from the ceiling, and balloons bounced around the room, adding to the festive atmosphere, but Mark couldn't bring himself to enjoy any of it. All he could think about was the fact that he was leaving and that he had hurt the one person he cared about more than anything.

As the night wore on, Mark felt himself becoming more and more detached from the party.

Many people came up to him with words of encouragement, pride beaming on their faces as he would go on to make your small town proud.

He watched as people wrote their New Year’s hopes on small pieces of paper and then taped them to the wall, their faces filled with excitement and anticipation. A couple of hours in, he sees you being whisked every which way by friends that were visiting home from university, he smiles knowing you have been looking forward to seeing them all year. Mark's heart was heavy as he looked around the festive New Year's Eve party. The excitement of the countdown to midnight, the laughter, and the clinking of glasses all seemed to fade into the background as he thought about what he had to do.

But Mark couldn't join in their celebration.

He knew that when the clock struck midnight, his world would be completely different.

“Tick-tock, Cinderella,” Izaiah whispers into Mark’s ear while passing by and then pointing at the clock above.

One more hour till midnight.

“Wanna dance for a bit?” he heard your voice from next to him, “or are you too busy being broody in the corner?”

Much to his dismay, you pulled Mark onto the dance floor. He couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest as your hips melted into the rhythm of the song, your arms snaking up to his neck. He felt multiple sets of eyes land on you two, some filled with love, others in sadness, and some people even raised their cups in solemn of what’s to become of you two.

In just a few short hours, Mark would be leaving for Korea, pursuing the dream that you both talked so highly of. It was an opportunity that would change his life, but it also meant leaving behind everything he knew and loved.

Mark looked around the room, friends he grew up with, family that supported him through everything, you, you being his world. Was he really ready to leave this life?

“Girl, if I were you I’d be fucking him into the next year!” a drunk girl slurred while bumping into you two.

“I mean I plan on it!” you chuckled while trying to steady her rocking frame.

“I don’t know how you’re able to do it y/n… long distance that already sucks… him having to keep you a secret for the rest of his life? Damn, that’s even worse.”

Feeling flustered by the truth, you begin to talk down the reality, “Oh I feel secure enough in my relationship! I know Mark is just doing what he has to do for his career, but that doesn’t mean he loves me any less! We have great communication-”

“Pshh communication my ass! Did he even tell you that he leaves–”

“Okay! That’s enough! Too much to drink as always Mina, huh?” Mark shushes her while pulling her to a couch to lie down.

“Oh fuck off Mark, if you don’t want to tell her, I’ll tell her myself because you are too much of a pussy boy to do so!” she yells while being thrown onto the couch.

Gathering his wits, he makes his way back to you.

“What was that all about? What are you not telling me?” you ask, taking a step forward.

“Don’t worry about it babe, you know Mina gets too drunk at parties and keeps saying shit…” Mark sweats.

“Wait, you know that is weird because Riane also brought up something along the lines of “Oh wow he hasn’t told you yet?” when I was talking to her earlier… what are you hiding?” you suddenly feel the bottle of soju you had earlier.

“Not here please, not now…” he pleads, frantically looking around as people start to be intrigued by the madness happening in front of them.

“No, tell me now. New year, no secrets!” you stomp.

When the countdown finally began, Mark felt a sense of dread wash over him. He knew that once the new year began, his life would be changed forever.

“For fucks sake, y/n,” he says before pulling you outside.

He looked over at you, who was standing with your back turned to him. He wanted to go over to you, just hold you, to apologize, to make things right, but he knew that it was too late.

He had to face the truth.

“You have ten seconds to tell me, Mark,” you say with crossed arms, chests pressed against each other.

As if on cue, he hears the crowd from inside the house start the countdown into the new year.

10!

“I have been keeping a secret.”

“I haven’t been able to find the right words to tell you.”

“I did pass my audition and I will leave for Korea soon.”

“My manager called the other day to tell me I'm leaving on Christmas.”

“But I got an extension.”

“When do you leave Mark?” you ask with a shaky breath, eyes clouded with tears, as you stand watching the man you love break down.

“I love you, y/n, don’t forget that.” he chokes out.

“When do you leave Mark?!” you scream at him.

Time stilled as he just stared at you with a trembling lip.

“I leave today.”

As the countdown ended, and the room erupted into cheers, fireworks went off from the backyard. Mark felt a sense of emptiness inside.

“Happy New Year!” was ringing in his ears, the festivity inside contrasting the pit in his stomach. He knew that he was supposed to be celebrating, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. All he could do was watch as you slowly walked backward, face twisted with pain.

You both stood there, both lost in your thoughts, as the new year began. And as the party continued around him, Mark felt more alone than ever before.

"What? When were you going to tell me? You waited till the day of?"

"I didn't know how," he said, his voice barely audible over the sound of the cheers. "I didn't want to hurt you."

You took another step back, tears streaming down your face. "You're leaving me?"

Mark reached out to touch you, but you pulled away. "No, y/n, it's not like that. I just..."

“You didn’t what?” you whispered finally stepping forward, him retreating backwards, “You didn't do what, Mark!” finally yelled.

“You lied! You lied to my face, of all secrets to keep, you kept this. For what? Think I couldn’t take it? Couldn’t bear the fact you’d be chasing your dreams? What is it?” you screamed, pushing him with each sentence.

Mark took every beating, the punishment for his personalized brand of torture he put you through. You hit his chest as he stood taking in every blow, face and body empty, a shell of the man you’ve come to love.

“So much for forever right?” you finally stop, “so much for dreams and all.”

“Baby,” he pleads, “baby please don’t.”

“No, because…” you lift your face, running your hands through your hair, your ring getting caught in the tangles reminding you of his promise, “fuck this Mark. This really was never going to work.”

“You don’t. You don’t mean that.” he shakes his head reaching out for you.

“I fucking mean it.” you say while staring at him and taking off the ring and throwing it on the ground, “I hope it works out for you Mark, I really do. Dreams and all.”

You left Mark there as he fell to his knees, cradling the ring that symbolizes everything you meant to him. The real engagement ring in his pocket never felt heavier in his pocket.

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

and i hope she was worth the wait? first three chapters are posted today. next chapter released first week of 2025.

open to feedback and reactions :*

happy holidays and happy new year <3

xoxo

forevamark

#forevaeva updates #forevamarkupdates #forevamark full fic #marksmut #mark lee smut #nct mark lee #nct mark smut #mark lee fanfic #nct mark lee fanfiction #mark lee fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct fic #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct au #nct aus

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sameschmidtdiffname · 1 year 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

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cowboygenesis · 26 days ago

Text

4: baby, baby | kylo ren x reader

part 4 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | buy me a coffee?

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language. word count: 2.3k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: we're going with shorter chapters for this fic! also, do you guys like the text part?? it's been so long since i've tried something similar lol but it's so charming! (also i rarely proofread what i post, i'm sorry if it's obvious i just get vertigo looking at the same text for hours on end)

Now Playing: Baby - Ariel Pink

You let out a loud yawn, suppressing it with the sleeve of your sweater. You feel your eyelids sticking, eyes glazed with sleep as you reach for your portable cup. As you take a sip, the rich aroma floods your nostrils, urging you to inhale slowly.

Your manicured finger taps away at the touchpad of your sleek laptop. You were supposed to be taking notes, but today feels pretty slow. Even your lecturer seems to be drooping down in her seat more than usual as the slides flicker across the projector ahead. You catch some information about Morrison… or maybe it was Melville? Regardless, you’d catch up on the reading over your long weekend— god knows you had nothing better to distract yourself from him.

It’s been over a week since Kylo’s arrival and your unfortunate argument, or fight, as Rey had insisted on calling it. You disagreed— it was merely a brief lapse in your patience, and you were ready to bounce back to your daily life soon after.

Except Kylo wasn’t. He made a point of ignoring you most days, disappearing from his couch-bed before you even managed to have your morning coffee. He’d be gone most of the day and come back late at night, usually with a box of takeout or a 4-pack of beer. His avoidance made you that much more upset, at some point making you consider throwing away the pack of cigarettes he’d leave in the kitchen every evening. You discarded the thought eventually, thinking it’d be juvenile to resort to his level of pettiness.

And as such you’ve been coexisting, sharing a home yet living completely separate lives. The few times he’d make a rare appearance, Rey was there to save you from awkwardness. Most recently, it was over breakfast.

Kylo had an annoying habit of completely disregarding your detailed shower schedule. This meant that most days you’d be forced to sit idly in your room until he finished his business, except one fateful Wednesday morning. You had made the foolish mistake of waiting in the kitchen that time, typing away at your laptop when you heard the shower turn off. It was only a matter of time before he emerged from the bathroom down the hall, hair pulled-back and pale skin slick with moisture.

“Hey,” you had greeted him out of courtesy, earning but a short nod in return.

You tried to keep your attention on the screen of your laptop, but his looming presence made it difficult. Despite his obvious spite toward you, his gaze seemed to stay glued to your idle form as you typed away on the keyboard. There were no words exchanged, just the brief instance of eye contact that made your spine prickle. Whenever you’d make the unfortunate mistake of meeting his gaze, he seemed to be making that same face— eyes narrowed, and that teasing fucking smirk painting his plush lips.

“Damn him,” you mutter under your breath, eyes rolling at the memory. “Damn him and his ugly mug.”

You tap open a new private page in your browser, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you worry your lip between your teeth. The thought has been biting at your curiosity for a few days now, but it never felt safe to make the call at home— you knew he could find you out at any moment, and you’d be screwed for the rest of his visit.

With one eyebrow quirked, you quickly type in your query: ‘Kylo Ren.’

As you press the ‘enter’ key, your eyes squint at the inflow of results onscreen. Without any pictures, you’re forced to click the first available result— a LinkedIn page.

Your heart skips a beat when the page loads in. You’re met with a picture of him in black and white, looking at the camera. His face is relaxed, almost stern, suiting his choice of clothing. You think you like him better in a t-shirt as opposed to the turtleneck he dons in the picture, but you brush the thought off quickly before it managed to settle in your gut.

You scroll, hands jittering slightly. Has researching someone online always felt so dirty?

Below, you catch sight of his professional resume. The technicalities make little sense to you for the most part, but indeed, he’s listed as owner of a company called ‘Solo Solutions’ specializing in IT-related services. You realize the name rings a bell, and quickly connect it with a purse of your lips: Rey Solo. You figure it must be their family name, except it wouldn’t match the ‘Ren’ listed on his profile.

You huff, quickly exiting the page and returning to your initial search list. Skipping the purple link, you instead opt for the second one that takes you to the familiar layout of the Facebook website.

“Oh, god,” you whisper under your breath, leaning toward the screen. Your little internet escapade evolves into something much more intimate as you spot Kylo’s profile. The picture here is much different to the professional version, depicting a candid photo of the man’s back as he stands at a bar. With his head tilted slightly, you spot the curve of a smile through the motion blur. You swallow thickly, glancing at the name.

‘Kylo Ren (Ben Solo)’ stares back at your rouged visage, taunting you with the mystery. Your first instinct tells you that the choice is simply stylistic, perhaps to maintain a certain mein in the unforgiving world of corporate, but even then— something doesn’t sit right with you. You’d like the puzzle pieces to snap together, but instead, you find yourself opening the photos section of the page.

Once it loads in, you feel an immediate thrum in your chest at what you see. Dozens of rows filled with various photos, each one depicting Kylo—Ben—on a different background, in a different situation. But it’s not what differs about these images that startles you, it’s what connects them.

His smile.

Across each photo, Kylo’s face greets you with a warm, earnest grin, eyes squinted and dimples showing. You never even knew he had them.

Your free hand squeezes the hem of your sweater as you keep browsing. You feel your gut twisting as you skip past each row, taking in the variety: pictures of his travels abroad, in office, at home… and finally, alongside a woman.

She looks to be about his age, with flaxen hair and bright eyes that squint into a smile as he kisses her cheek. The picture radiates with a joyful, chaotic energy that you’d never expect from Kylo, let alone him in interaction with another human being. But you know this is different.

The realization dawns on you like a sudden storm, surging in your veins and making you chew the inside of your cheek. As you continue down the timeline, you spot the pair again and again, kissing, touching, embracing. In each picture, Kylo smiles. He’s radiant alongside this beautiful woman, his gaze locked on her form like she’s the single most important thing in the world.

Your stomach sinks with something akin to dread, making you shake your head as you swiftly close the page. Your fingers jitter above the touchpad, making you reach for your coffee to quell the accompanying dryness in your throat. As the bitter liquid slicks down your throat and into your stomach, it settles into nausea.

Everything clicks into place. Or, at the very least, one reason for Kylo’s sudden move— and his recent anger toward you. The relationship seems picture perfect, so you’d feel sympathetic if the breakup was indeed a reality.

Except you don’t feel sympathy. Instead, your head thrums with a dull headache as you squeeze your fists, nails digging into your palms. A simmering frustration settles into your insides, stirring your leg into bouncing impatiently.

‘Why?’ you think, settling your cup down to rub at your aching temples, ‘Why would this ever be a subject of my cares?’

And then, something vibrates soundlessly at your hip. You exhale sharply, reaching into the pocket of your pants to withdraw the sleek figure of your phone. When the screen lights up, your tongue goes dry again.

Unknown, 13:57 how’s school

The text looks at your confusion-stricken face, glaring. Your unlock your phone, swiping to the app and letting your thumbs linger above the keyboard for a beat before replying.

Me, 13:58 who’s this?

A grey chat bubble appears after a second, indicating an approaching reply. You bite your bottom lip, fingers flexing and releasing in anticipation. Deep down, part of you knows who it is before the message even comes.

Unknown, 14:00 need wi-fi password. where’s the router

Your jaw almost drops. Surely enough, you were right about the mysterious correspondent, and surely enough, he’s just as annoying through text as he is in real life.

Your eyebrows furrow, and you sigh as your thumbs get to work again.

Me, 14:03 are you serious

Unknown, 14:03 dead serious signals shit in the living room

You scoff, head shaking as you cross your legs.

Me, 14:04 you haven’t talked to me in days and now you’re texting me for the wifi???

Unknown, 14:05 well yea. what else would i text you for

You feel that simmering frustration in your veins bubble into something greater beat by beat. Rolling your eyes, you send your last text message before making a promise to yourself to block the asshole before he completely ruins your day.

Me, 14:06 go fuck yourself

Unknown, 14:06 touchy

You place the device screen-down on your desk, scoffing. You hear it vibrate almost immediately, but do your best to ignore it as you turn your attention to the lecture. Your professor stands at the small podium, pointing to one of the white-boards with a green marker. Another vibration.

You shake your head, opening your Google Doc and typing some bullet points onto the blank page. “A binary opposite is a complete opposite and this is apparent in Brontë's Jane Eyre through the…” you mutter, before another vibration shakes your desk.

You groan in frustration, slapping your laptop closed before withdrawing your phone again.

Unknown, 14:10 so where is it cmon, dont leave me waiting you want me to grovel?

His text leaves you rolling your eyes again, lip caught between your teeth as you reply.

Me, 14:11 tempting

The grey bubble pops up for a beat, before disappearing again. Your thumbs tap against the edge of your phone in something akin to anticipation, but instead of shoving the feeling aside, your heart thrums at the response that comes.

Unknown, 14:13 didn’t know you liked me on my knees

Your jaw almost comes slack, looking around briefly as if checking the perimeter. Most of your colleagues are, like you, zoned out or mindlessly scrolling their devices. When you type again, your thumbs quiver.

Me, 14:14 not telling suffer :)

Unknown, 14:14 WAIT please

The small curve of your mouth comes unsolicited, making you purse your lips.

Me, 14:15 please what?

Unknown, 14:16 please, dear roomie where can i find the router?

The subtle curve bends into a smirk.

Me, 14:17 behind the TV.

Unknown, 14:17 did that kill you?

Me, 14:18 yes. writing from the afterlife hope the wifi sucks for u

You exhale slowly when the replies halt, clicking your phone off before placing it on the desk again. You cross your arms, biting down the grin forming on your lips. You know it stems from the satisfaction of getting Kylo to plead, but still— something about it feels wrong, like the fluttering in your chest shouldn’t be occurring regardless.

With another sigh, you open the lid of your laptop again and get back to mindless note-taking. The class concludes at half-past, and you’re already thinking of the hefty salad you’ll be having at the canteen once you’re out of this stuffy lecture hall.

Another vibration comes. Without second-guessing, you grab your phone within seconds.

Unknown, 14:21 too bad. signals great

You scoff, eyes rolling at the reply. Part of you feels like you should have extended your torture for a while longer, just to make him pay for ignoring you all week.

The grey bubble hovers over the text bar again before disappearing. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting.

What appears onscreen next knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Unknown, 14:23 thanks baby

You inhale sharply, turning your phone off and dropping it into the depths of your bag. Your fingers tremble as they curl into the fabric of your jeans, but you ignore it, staring blankly at the lecture notes on your screen as the text echoes in your mind.

Baby.

You shake your head, jaw tightening as you force your focus back on the words before you. It means nothing. Kylo’s an asshole who throws words around just to get under your skin, you know this all too well. That’s all this is—another attempt to piss you off.

But the heat licking at the back of your neck tells a different story.

The professor dismisses the class. Chairs scrape against the floor, students shuffle out, conversations bubble up around you. You move on autopilot, shoving your laptop into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Your legs feel stiff as you push out of the lecture hall, into the busy corridor, then into the crisp air outside.

It’s chilly outside, but the sun is bright enough to make you shield your eyes with your forearm.

You exhale.

“Fuck him,” you mutter, head shaking as you begin walking down your campus. You square your shoulders, focusing on the rhythmic sound of your boots against the pavement. Students pass by in pairs and clusters, chattering about lectures and weekend plans.

He ignored you for days. That’s what matters—not the texts.

And definitely not the stupid baby.

Your breath fogs in the crisp air as you exhale again, slower this time.

You keep walking.

Your heart still thrums.

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velvetcloxds · 1 year 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

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citricacidprince · 3 months 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

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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

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lowkeyrobin · 11 months ago

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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

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keepswingin · 1 year ago

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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

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loquaciousquark · 7 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

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