#yancyxhost

Host found himself leaning on Yancy, ear pressed against the other man’s chest and resting. He wasn’t going to fall asleep, but it was a nice change in pace compared to the usual rushing chaos that is the Iplier Manor. 

“So no one told you life was going to be this way~” Yancy sang along to the theme song of the show they had been watching for a good three hours. Host didn’t care much for it, he didn’t care much for ‘watching’ TV, but it was nice background noise and Yancy enjoyed it. 

Host felt Yancy’s chest vibrate as he sang, it was definitely soothing. Yancy had a lovely voice, most of the Iplier’s did due to their creator but something about Yancy’s was more calming. Dark’s was deep and gravely, Wilford added comedic tones, Yandere’s was...off-putting. 

“If I have to hear this damn song one more time, I’m going to explode!” Anti’s voice echoed from another room. 

“I’ll be there for you!” Yancy screamed, his body shifting under Host as he made sure that Anti heard every syllable. 

“I’ll be there to stab you, I swear to God, you little jail-ass mother-” Anti’s shouting was suddenly cut off and Host didn’t even need to use his powers to know that Dark was the reason why. Yancy laughed in response to what had happened. Host loved Yancy’s singing very much but he had to admit that Yancy’s laugh was just as enjoyable. His chuckle was soft and deep and like music to Host. 

“I feel like I should turn the volume up more,” Yancy said as he adjusted, wrapping an arm around Host.

“Host can tell that Anti would not be the only one complaining about the volume.” Host said, finding himself nuzzling closer against Yancy. “The Host being one of them.”

“Fine, I’ll keep it down.” Yancy now had both arms around Host and gave him a hug. “But only for yous.” 

YOOO THIS IS THE BEST DYNAMIC I COULD HAVE EVER ASKED FOR

You are very right anon!! HOST would definitely write a musical, maybe not the musical songs but totally the plot. Them brain storming ideas together is the cutest thing I can imagine like auggghhhh.

“So what’s if we add in anotha number here! Transition the feelin’s of the character into song, if yous catch my drift.”

“Host very much agrees with that suggestion. Host would also like to suggest, one use smooth Jazz to exemplify the character’s tonal shift from the original broadway melody.”

“Yous...yous really get me, Host.”

Yancy will INDUBITABLY try in getting Host to sing. Always asking, but always denied. Until one time, Host gives in.

Host has a voice like velvet, with slight a static undertone, but hardly noticeable. Yancy’s heart gives out at the sound his baritone range.

My heart™️ 💗 ahhHhhhhHHHH

bOI do I?! ⛓🎙

Host writes and Yancy sings, what a wonderful combo.

Yancy sings in the mornings, and Host usually wakes up to it. Host loves how gentle Yancy’s voice can be.

Yancy is definitely the more affectionate one of the pair. He doesn’t want to push Host’s boundaries so it’s causal hand holding and forehead kisses.

We all think Host is completely composed but u see earth he’s absolutely a brew of nervousness and full of love for Yancy. If Yancy steals a kiss, Host will stay still in surprise.

Host knows when Yancy gets frustrated and before it happens, he always wiggles his hand into Yancy’s.

Okay so like Yancy ADORES how Host speaks in third person; he finds it makes him 3x cuter. He never mentions it to Host, even if the Host already knows.

Yancy is always curious about Host’s eyes, but never brings it up. The past is never to be trifled with—that he can understand.

You would assume Yancy to be the scarier of the two, since he’s gone to prison, but, really it’s Host. See the “ruff-and-tough character A but silent, more menancing character B stands behind them” trope.

It has been chosen! Bang the drums, send word to our people; Criminal Record is here to stay!

I can totally see Yancy dancing and singing away his feelings until he realizes he’s in love with Host. Consider this:

Yancy is practicing his solo, but he can’t get the host out of his head. He’s frustrated, he’s smitten. Music clashes intensely until one moment later, it fades, and the headlights click out until only one spotlight is left on Yancy. He sings to himself—no music or beat. There is only the echo of his voice. His hands run through his hair as his heart drums inside his chest. Oh no.

Host, my dear, is writing. Turning the clacking of his typewriter into new life. A love interest for his story.

His hair slick, black as coal. Eyes like oil, always swallowing up everything in its path. Gods are jealous of his form, and the man, though mortal, glows with confidence like a God too.

Hoscy?? Yanst?? We’ll never know...maybe it should be a word ship name. Like Criminal Record (except its record like a recording) or something, I dunno 🤷🏻‍♀️

YES PLEASE slow burn with these babies.

Host is too quiet to say anything, and Yancy never admits his own feelings, even to himself. I will die with this slow cooker.

He’s just laying on a floor, papers strewn around him. They’ve been scribbled on, rewritten, torn in half, and even just crumpled up.

He can’t get Yancy out of his head.

Host buries his face in his hands and growls. Angry at himself, angry at his stupid heart for feeling this way, and very, very angry at Yancy for being so damn perfect.