#Canteen Spirits

[jimvasta]

Humans and their pets

The sentient races of the universe have just about started to get their heads, or approximate similar in function body parts, around the odd nature of humans but only recently have humans begun to bring other Earth creatures into space with them.

“Don't worry about Fluffy, he's totally ship trained.” the human designated Bradley spoke with frightening casualness about the creature sat at his side. It's muzzle was level with his hips and it's forward facing eyes showed it had predator history just as much as humans did.

“It has fangs.” Captain Mota'tog was unimpressed. The permissions were correctly stamped on the file and yet such a creature hardly appeared inoffensive.

“He does not, he's not poisonous. Of course some of his teeth are sharp, he's an omnivore.”

“He's a hunter.”

“He mostly hunts biscuits. He'll scavenge in the canteen from anyone soft enough to feed him. He's a certified well-being dog. People stroke him, he's got really soft fur, it makes them feel better. Look, he's wagging his tail, it means he likes you.”

Mota-tog whistled uncertainly.

“Oh wow!” One of the human engineers arrived at the airlock and dropped her bag as she stared at the dog. “So cute!”

Fluffy jumped round, tail wagging furiously, nuzzling in as the woman buried her hands in his warm soft fur.

“You are totally gorgeous. You're so fluffy and beautiful, you're like a little polar bear. You're here to stay, yes you are.” the woman happily baby talked to the dog who was more than half her size.

Bradley looked at the Captain and indicated. “See. Dogs make us happy.”

“You do all the care for it.”

“Of course.”

There were some false starts with the rest of the crew who were not so trusting of the huge pack hunter in their midst, but over the next few months they slowly learned to trust that the worst he would do was beg for food off their plates at meal times. Some of the braver aliens even began to pet him.

Then an alarm sounded.

Everyone raced to their emergency stations.

Bradley was in the cargo hold, his duty was to check the cargo was safe and secure.

He had quickly trained Fluffy to sit in a corner out of the way. It kept him safe in case anything shifted. The last thing he wanted was for his pet to get hurt by moving cargo.

The clang of magnetic grabs was deafening.

The alert was for a boarding raid.

Pirates.

Bradley cracked his knuckles and picked up a pry bar.

Through the rest of the ship there were varying degrees of panic.

A few of the other species could fight but most looked to the humans, having learned the way they fought when cornered and knowing their best hope to survive was to stay back and wait for the screaming to stop.

“What the fuck is that?!” the shout was shock and outrage. More anger than fear in the moment.

Crouching as it came through the main airlock was a creature taller and broader than anything else on the ship.

“Star spirits preserve us,” Mota'tog whistled. “A Batath.”

“It's a bloody troll is what it is.” Martins snapped.

Everyone froze as they heard the snarling and growling.

It was not coming from the Batath.

Fluffy arrived at speed and leapt, not caring can his opponent was huge. His fur was already matted with the blood of pirates and this was just another opponent.

The humans charged.

The Batath could only concentrate on one enemy at a time, it was used to picking off creatures as they ran, not fighting them off as something had its teeth deep around a knee trying to rip it apart.

The pirates ran when the Batath fell and the gore covered humans turned to face them.

Bradley let himself drop to the deck. “Don't worry, I'm fine. Good boy, Fluffy.”

Mota'tog shook his feathers as he watched the dog go back from snarling killing machine to placid fuss receiver. “I swear to the spirits, all Earth creatures are insane.”

[anachronismstellar]

I got something stuck in my head and idk man have this scene I guess

What if SQH were the one finding Liu Qingge in the caves?

Feat Sleep Token - The Summoning

As always no beta we die like Liu Qingge man hidhidf

----

He had no idea when everything had gone wrong, all he could feel was the burning of his meridians and the taste of copper on his lips. Like a fog, screams reached his ears, and in a blink of sanity he understood that it was him, his throat completely ruined as blood dripped down his chin and neck.

It had been days, it had been weeks, it had been-

He didn't know.

He felt his arm swing against monsters that weren't there, whispers crawling up his spine, their biting voices making it impossible for him to identify friend or foe. His vision swam again, darkness dancing at the corner of his eyes as if he were stuck in an endless shadow puppet theater, grasping smokes as he fought to get back to reality, to the caves.

Then the light came.

He wasn't conscious enough to recognize that he had been hallucinating for quite sometime now, but if the past month had taught anything is that he had no allies, he could trust no one. So when glittering white and yellow dashed past him, he did the only thing he could have possible do, rushing with his sword at ready, the light prickling his eyes after spending so long in the dark.

At the back of his mind he heard something that sounded like his name. Didn't feel right, however, as if it were coming from underwater, the burning in his chest unbearable as he did his best to slice his opponent, his strikes being met one by one. Another voice, one that sounded too much like what he would say if he were sane, kept screaming at him, reckless, useless, pitiful, disgraceful-

A hand slapped him with full force against his chest, the searing heat of his core freezing too fast for him to understand what had happened. He gasped, chocking blood as he tried to breathe, his wet heaving sending a wave of despair to his bones.

Another slap and this time his lungs filled with more air than blood, snapping him from his overwhelming fear, tears trickling down his cheeks as he finally saw the person in front of him for the first time.

Liu Qingge wasn't a pious man.

He believed in the Heavens as one believes that the moon and starts could influence destiny and fate, to say not at all.

Still, the first thing his mind could think of was that a High Spirit or a Godly creature was in front of him, their hair disheveled a halo, hands gentle as the morning dew helping him to lay down as his legs failed to hold him up.

But the most striking thing were his eyes, glowing gold like embers in the dark, guiding him as he slowly came back to his surroundings.

Liu Qingge squinted his eyes at the man, his foggy brain struggling to process who was in front of him. It was as if trying to put two images over each other and having them mismatch- the man in front of him shouldn't, couldn't be there, and most of it all the man in front of him wouldn't be capable to go toe to toe with him, qi deviation or not.

"-with me?" Shang Qinghua's voice sounded like rocks gritting against each other, as if the man had been screaming for a long time.

Liu Qingge blinked a couple of times, head tilting to the side as he tried to nod. Shang Qinghua hand went to the back of his neck, holding it in place as he pressed something against Liu Qingge's lips, the liquid so cold it felt as if he were drinking snow. He thought it was water, but the more it washed away the taste of blood, the more he could feel the sweetness of it, the coldness soothing his throat.

"There you go, Shidi, just a bit more," Shang Qinghua tilted the leather canteen slowly, giving time for him to swallow before pouring a bit more on his mouth until he turned his face away.

Heaviness took over his limbs, a different type of fogginess started to cling to his senses, sleep making everything soft around the edges, including his sore bones and muscles. He tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but Shang Qinghua just scratched his scalp with a soft "Shh", not helping him at all to stay awake.

"Let go, Liu Qingge," and he wanted to stand up, to pay attention because Shang Qinghua had never called him by name like this before, so it must be important, right? He needed to be alert, he- "Shh, I won't let your story to be untold this time."

And that made no sense, no sense at all. What did he mean by this time? Was this man even the real Shang Qinghua? Was he surrendering himself to an impostor? But why save him, why?

"Why..." he mumbled right before sleep dragged him to a kinder darkness, the molten gold eyes guiding him to a dreamless sleep.

---------

Don't ask, I have no idea either, but I have been listening to Sleep Token non stop since Wednesday and I was feeling a darker vibe than the 12/12 fics.

Look at me, building the Warplane ship one insane fic at a time husdihfuisdf

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the fic! See you around!

[enwoso]

blurb request of reader being too hyper/boisterous or getting way too competitive and taking things too far so having to constantly be warned of told to play nice by her older teammates?

WIN OR LOSE — reader x engwnt

masterlist

“t’was stupid anyway! i should have won!” you sulked walking back into the canteen with grace who was boasting about her win in the little game you were playing with the media team for the england tiktok.

the rest of the england girls watched on at your two polar opposite moods, grace’s being a big grin from ear to ear while yours was a scowl as your eyebrows deepened.

“oh shush y/n, just admit your a sore loser!” grace teased bumping your shoulder into hers as you gave her your signature death stare.

everyone who you played with knew how much you hated to loose and that came down to both football matches and silly little games that meant absolutely nothing like the one you had just done hence your mood.

your mood usually being happy, giggly as well as winding everyone up on the team being know as the pest of the team, but put you in a losing position and your attitude and mood will change quicker than you can blink.

you constantly being reminded by the older player at both club and country about your competitiveness sometimes taking it a little two far when trying to win. but in your mind why wouldn’t you want to win, losing is boring!

“i’m not a sore loser, you literally were cheating!” you voice was starting to sound a little harsher and a little louder as you were just about to open your mouth to retaliate you were being pulled by the arm by leah who pulled you into a seat next to her, millie and beth.

“get off me!” you huffed, your arms folded across you chest. your scowl still being present and probably deepening. the three looking at you with the same look, you knew what was coming.

“oi huffy pants, quit with the attitude!” millie quipped back as you rolled your eyes earning you a slap on the arm from leah, the perks of being the youngest on the team!

“ow! what was that for?” you questioned rubbing your hand over where the captain had just slapped you, the three still giving you the same stern look.

“right kid, we aren’t here to dampen your spirits cause we love that you want to win everything-” mille started as you sighed knowing there was a but, there always was.

“-but not every little silly challenge matter, yeah?” leah continued after milke your stone face still there as you were unsure what their point was.

“we know you know, but just don’t take it too far. okay?” beth smiled at you, a small shrug came from you “would rather win though, wouldn’t i” you mumble as you hear the three sigh.

“yeah but you never really lose” beth said as you looked at her as if she had just told you that grass was purple. your eyes wide at what you he’d just heard the girl say urging for her to continue with her explanation

“well the saying goes, you never lose cause you either win or your learn”

“i think i’ll stick to my way” you smiled while leah gave you a pointed look. unsure of beth’s inspiration quote she most definitely just plucked out of thin air. both leah and mille looking confused at the blondes attempt.

“but i’ll remember not to take it too far!” you grinned as the three jumped up celebrating and high fiving each other as you rolled your eyes playfully at their silly antics.

“right race you to the changing rooms!” you called out over the top of the three, jumping out of your seat as the three sat back in theirs.

“that lasted for all of three seconds!”

[soullessdianthus]

Could we get some pervy soap or ghost 👀👀

You got me hooked on pervy Konig 🥵

A/N: Your wish has been granted. (≖⌣≖)

Warnings: cocky, playboy MacTavish who is possessive af (he has no shame), nsfw (choking?, ass slapping, exhibitionism, shower sex, masturbation, creampie, rough sex as punishment)

My requests are open for I don’t know how long (as I have a lot of work lately)! ٩(^ᗜ^)و Just please read the disclaimer (pinned post)! Send requests HERE ✉︎

✧°. John was a pretty popular guy in his school years. And he knew he was quite handsome too, so he never really complained about the lack of girl’s attention. Things got a little different when he enrolled in the British military. 

✧°. As he reached his twenties, Johnny wasn’t satisfied with teasing all these other recruits in a hall or a canteen. Especially, because it rarely ended with sex, almost never. He was a busy man with loads of obligations around the base. It could be certainly said that he changed a little and grew out of the playboy phase. 

✧°. For a while at least.

✧°. But the lack of previously mentioned intimacy almost drove him nuts. Perv!Soap was a simple man, he just needed to blow off some steam, you know?

✧°. Then one lucky day, a group of new recruits came into the training grounds and you certainly got his attention. A pretty thing that smiled to him as you walked by Sergeant MacTavish. 

✧°. Johnny felt like his veins were flooding with testosterone again, the mere sight of your curves, made his cock throb. None of the other women soldiers intrigued him so much. it had to be that innocent smile of yours.

✧°. So naturally, Perv!Soap offered you a little tour around the base, while keeping his hand on your lower back. He was just trying to be nice and give you a warm welcome, right? He seemed like a spark of joy!

✧°. He would find himself daydreaming about you, about what position he would put you in or what would he do to pull the sweetest screams out of your tight throat. 

✧°. His imagination was wild – you were just sweeping the dust to the tray while kneeling? John already was imagining you on your knees in front of him, begging for his cock, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth. 

✧°. Perv!Soap would be a bold type of man, whose intentions were crystal clear. He wanted to mark you as his as soon as possible. MacTavish couldn't bear the thought of other men laying their disgusting hands on you. He had to claim you first.

✧°. The perfect opportunity happened, when you came into the gym for a sparring session. Of course your good friend was there to train with you! Johnny invited you into a ring, before giving some advice. 

✧°. Being bigger and stronger than you, Soap made you stumble and fall more times than a fingers hand has. Yet, you kept standing up, willing to continue the sparring session. Perv!Soap enjoyed each minute he had your body within his firm grip, your front or back rubbing against him. It really riled him up.

✧°. So when he had you on the ground, laying atop of him and between his thighs in a tight chokehold, Johnny threw a couple of inappropriate jokes towards his friends who were watching the ring. They laughed and you tried to wiggle away once again.

✧°. “Hope yer gonna keep the spirit, bonnie. I like ‘em feisty.” He whispered into your ear, when your throat was being suffocated with his bicep. You struggled again, letting out a whine and a huff. Such an innocent sound, however it got John’s cock almost hard. You felt it digging into your lower back. 

✧°. Perv!Soap would make clear that you already belong to him. If some unfortunate soul dared to look at you in the wrong way, MacTavish would pin them to the wall and threaten them. Or, in a worse case scenario, he would just punch the wretch’s jaw or nose. Hard. 

✧°. Furthermore, when crossing him in the hallway, Soap wouldn’t bother with decency. If he had a desire to smack your plump ass, he wouldn’t hesitate. John would smile to himself, if he managed to pull a loud gasp out of you, when his strong palm struck your bum.

✧°. Perv!Soap’s confidence would only boost if he ever made you flustered. Which was often. With previously mentioned slaps or dirty words whispered into your ear. 

✧°. “Oh, bonnie. Let me fuck yer pretty tits, eh?”

✧°. “Good lass, learnin’ fast, aren’t we? Got me wonderin’, what else can I teach ya?” 

✧°. When it came to drinking outside the base, after a successful mission let’s say, Soap would rather sooner than later pull you into his lap. His thighs were more comfortable than a cheap chair and this way he could watch over you. 

✧°. Because he was a good friend and didn’t want anybody to throw a pill into your drink, right? Johnny called it a “scary dog privilege” when you sat at his thighs. But to be honest, for him it was a power move. Everyone else from your group acknowledged how protective Soap was over his girl.

✧°. Perv!Soap would sneak into your shower cabin and shush your loud gasp, before anyone could hear. He placed his big palm against your lower jaw and placed a finger over his lips. You were so cute, when you tried to cover your modesty, even now when both of you were completely naked. 

✧°. “Ya gotta help me, bonnie. I’ve got a problem.” John said to you, pointing at his painfully hard cock. Your face turned bright red.

✧°. “Now? Someone might hear us!” You yelled at him, keeping the whispering tone. Slowly your hand that was covering your breasts, loosened up and rested at the side of your body. Fuck it, he already seen enough. 

✧°. “Sh, sh, sh. Don’t ya worry, I’ll be quiet, eh?” 

✧°. Petrified or willingly, you allowed him to guide your smaller hand over his throbbing length. Soap stood close to you, his chest brushing against your perky nipples as the stream of warm water ran down your curves and his toned muscles. 

✧°. Perv!Soap showed you how to stroke him and where to squeeze him. As he predicted you were in fact a fast learner. Quickly you understood how he wanted to receive a handjob and you complied, encouraged by his hand sneaking to the side of your face. The other one was playing with your nipples. 

✧°. Sergeant was breathing heavily, huffing into your face just below his. He was getting closer, faster than ever before. You made him this soft, it was your hand that drove him into sweet like honey delirium. 

✧°. When he came, his cum spurted onto your palm and some landed on your stomach. Soap moaned, holding onto the shower stall on his left. 

✧°. However, the warm and thick liquid was washed away by the trickle of water. 

✧°. “That’s a good girl.” Johnny would be so cute and sweet on you, when you did whatever he asked you to.

✧°. But when you misbehaved or even unwittingly flirted with another soldier, Perv!Soap would be rather rough and tough with you, shoving you into the closest, empty storage in the base.

✧°. Johnny would push your face against the wall, tightly gripping your wrists behind your back. He didn’t care when you scowled and whined at him. Soap kicked your feet further apart, before he started to grind against your ass. 

✧°. “You belong to me, remember? Only I can fuck your tight cunny, lass.” 

✧°. Perv!Soap didn’t care that you mumbled out an apology, he wanted to make a point here – to show you were his little fucktoy. 

✧°. So he pushed his way between your puffy folds without any preparations, John knew you would take him anyways. He wasn’t so sweet and gentle about the intercourse, not at all.

✧°. Soap set a fast and rough pace that made each of his powerful thrust borderline painful. Balancing between the soreness and pleasure. One of his hands kept your wrists restrained, while the other hand grabbed a fist full of your hair, forcing you to arch your back for him.

✧°. Your slightly suppressed moans and whines were music to his ears, only encouraging him to keep thrusting into your tight cunt.

✧°. And just before his actions made you and him orgasm, he pulled out of you and nestled his cock between your puffy folds. Ropes of thick cum covered your pussy and instantly began dripping onto your underwear.

✧°. Perv!Soap would pull your panties back up to their place, clinging tightly against your wet sex. Somehow you were conflicted and couldn’t decide if you were disgusted by the feeling of his semen smearing across your labia or were you aroused. 

✧°. “Go on, now.” Johnny told you, slapping your clothed ass in a gentler manner. 

✧°. “But–”

✧°. “If any bastard would try to sneak their hand into your panties, they’ll know, who this cunny belongs to, yes? I marked it.”

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!reader explict! (we got there)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 7,2K!

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: spoiler: In the timeline of my writing, this is the first sex scene I've ever written on my own. So, what can I say? This is an imperfect story about imperfect people, but I can assure you it has an eventual happy ending.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

The absolute chaos of Christmas looming spread across the campus like an infectious frenzy. The corridors were decked with the most absurd ornaments the students could scavenge—Santa Claus figurines strung up and dangling upside down from the ceiling of the canteen, Christmas trees adorned with laboratory glassware and angel hair, and a mockery of carols blaring on repeat from the school radio. It was a bizarre fusion of science and art, a perfect encapsulation of the university’s peculiar spirit.

Every student seemed to be racing against time, scrambling to finish their projects and papers before the holidays, determined to return prepared for the looming finals. The labs and library remained open around the clock for anyone desperate enough to study or practise at odd hours.

You and Sue spent every spare moment in the lab classroom, tinkering with projects that needed to be submitted by the semester’s end. Meanwhile, Jayce and Viktor made themselves available to assist and guide anyone who might need their expertise, and the group crossed paths periodically, exchanging polite gestures and jokes to keep up the holiday spirit. Viktor had made a few attempts to talk to you after his mortifying text message, but you did your best to ignore him.

Which made your current situation, to say the least, far from ideal. Sue was rushing you to jot down all the points before she had to dash off and tend to a project for another class. The two of you huffed at each other, frustration starting to take its toll, until you sighed and said, “Sue, how about I finish this, and you go do your thing? I really don’t mind.” You offered your friend a reassuring smile.

Sue hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Are you sick of me or something?”

“I’m never sick of you,” you said, placing your hand on Sue’s knee and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I just think this needs a bit more work, and I can see you’re in a hurry. Honestly, I really don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Okay, I admit my mind is elsewhere. Fine,” Sue sighed in mock defeat. “I’ll do something for you in return, I promise.” She started packing up her things and leaned over to place a hand on your shoulder.

“Just get me a cookie or something,” you replied with a tired smile, gently brushing Sue’s hand away. You figured you’d probably finish the work faster on your own, and you were running out of time anyway. The lab was already emptying, darkness had fallen outside, your eyes burned from staring at the chemicals for so long, and you’d had more than enough for one day.

After Sue left, you resumed your work, determined to finish everything in one evening. The promise of rest and the satisfaction of completion fuelled you. You were so focused on jotting down your thoughts that you didn’t notice when Viktor sat beside you and leaned over your notes.

“Do you... need help?” His voice was unsure, as if he were asking about something else as well.

You hesitated. Help would certainly be welcome, but Viktor’s presence would also make it harder for you to focus. The final equation seemed to balance out the odds. You looked at him—he looked tired yet sharp. He wore the same green jumper he’d had on that night, with a crisp white shirt collar peeking out from underneath it. His scent was fresh and comforting, and his eyes, full of quiet anticipation, were fixed on you as you calculated your decision. You sighed. Yes, you needed help.

“Alright. Shoot me.”

For a split second, Viktor’s face lit up before he leaned in closer. “You’re pretty far along,” he said, his expression thoughtful, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can dictate, and I’ll translate it into Heimerdinger’s language?”

“That would honestly be perfect,” you admitted, letting out a huff of relief as you turned your attention back to the chaotic scrawl of notes Sue had left behind. Terrible handwriting.

The two of you worked together in near silence, the hum of the lab equipment and the faint scratching of Viktor’s pen the only sounds between you. You found yourself occasionally distracted by the way Viktor’s long fingers moved as he pointed to your results, his low voice guiding you through adjustments. You tried to stay focused, but every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at him, his concentration a tether pulling your attention away from your notes.

Viktor, for his part, couldn’t help but steal glances at you. The faint scent of your perfume mixed with the sterile air of the lab, and it made something in his chest feel warm, almost achingly so. He bit his lip nervously whenever he realised he’d been staring too long, forcing his attention back to writing.

It took the two of you longer than either of you had expected, but when you finally wrapped up, the lab was completely empty. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a soft groan of relief.

“That’s it, then,” you said, your voice tired but satisfied. “Thank you, Viktor. Honestly, I’d still be drowning in that mess if you hadn’t—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off gently, placing the pen down and leaning back slightly. He watched as you began gathering your things, clearly ready to leave. But before you could stand, he cleared his throat, his voice softer now. “Hey.”

You paused, looking at him.

“Did you…” He hesitated, the words suddenly harder to push out. He fidgeted with the edge of his notebook. “Did you get my text message?”

Of course, you did. You’d seen his stupid, childish message. The ‘I like you,’ had screamed at you from your phone screen for two weeks now, and you’d both loved it and hated it. Who writes ‘I like you’ like a five-year-old? And not only that, who needs to down an entire bottle of whisky to muster the courage to write ‘I like you’?

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You hadn’t expected this. You shifted awkwardly in your chair, avoiding his gaze. “I did,” you said finally, your voice measured, careful.

Viktor’s expression remained unreadable, but his hands tightened around the notebook in front of him. “And?”

You let out a breath, your lips pressing into a thin line. “And… if I’m to rely on you saying or doing something from the heart only when you get yourself blind drunk, that wouldn’t be the best choice for your health, Viktor,” your voice was quiet, your eyes fixed on the workbench in front of you. “And I don’t want to be bad for your health.” You offered him a faint smile and looked down again. “If it was from the heart, in the first place.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded, his gaze dropping to the table. “It was.” It was. And it shamed him deeply that, indeed, he’d needed liquid courage to admit it. Only now did it strike him how awful it must have made you feel. “But I have a… rabbit heart.”

“Am I so terrifying?” you felt mockery twisting itself inside you with anger. Why were you so angry, though? You also had a rabbit heart. You often caught yourself knowing exactly what Viktor was going to say because you used the same words in your history of backing out. Was this the universe having a go at you?

“Yes, you scare the living shit out of me,” he huffed out a shaky laugh, lowering his voice. It was probably the biggest truth he’d told you in all this time.

“Well, this can’t be good for your health either, then, no?” Deflect, deflect, deflect, hide yourself behind that joke. Very well done, you.

“I—” Viktor paused, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Look, I lied. I’m not good with any setup—casual or not. I—” He stopped himself, his eyes flicking briefly to yours before looking away again. He was torn, visibly at war with his own feelings.

You didn’t want to hear him stumble over words again. “Viktor, I get it. It’s fine. We can still be friends?” You tried to search your mind for what you’d want to hear all those times when you told someone politely the relationship wasn’t working for you.

You thought this was it—an offer of friendship. Most people got hurt or annoyed with you, and it made you feel guilty. So, you tried to say something that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As soon as you said it, you realised that what you actually wanted was for someone not to let you retreat—but it was too late for that.

Viktor took in a shaky breath, his gaze returning to yours, but he still looked uncertain. “I can’t do that,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t be just your friend.” His hands clenched into fists on the table. “I... I’ve tried to be fine with it, but I’m not. I can’t pretend.”

“But I don’t know how to be anything else,” he added after a beat, his mind flicking back to all the times he’d snuck out of someone’s bedroom or when he found himself alone in the morning, in his own cold, sweaty bed. After some time, it became a habit, a quiet indulgence that carried no consequences, and it aligned very well with his main goal: to make his life more than it was meant to be. No distractions, only his goal. Some distractions, but not too many. Only friendships, and here as well, only the stimulating ones. To keep his brain fed, so his soul could starve.

“I have worked… so hard,” he brushed his hand through his hair. “To get where I am. I was meant to fail, and I haven’t failed once. I haven’t failed a single time, aside from some tiny, insignificant stumbles that eventually lead me to answers anyway. So many times I haven’t failed that I don’t think I know how to,” his voice was quiet, as if admitting something shameful. He said it as though any slip-up could cost him everything he’s worked for.

“I… understand,” you said slowly, piecing together the crumbs of information. Viktor didn’t come from a place of love, like you did. He didn’t come from a place of opportunity. He probably had to claw his way through pompous academics who didn’t take him seriously. You understood that part. But what was your part in turning it all to dust—that eluded you. So you didn’t understand, not entirely.

“Do you?” he looked at you longingly, expectantly, and it made your heart ache. What was it that you were supposed to give him now? A promise you would never hurt him? That you would never distract him or drag his mind away from what’s important?

“Viktor, this shouldn’t be so hard, I’m not some mythical creature,” you said, trying to inject a touch of humour into your voice, but it came out thin, brittle.

Viktor’s gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “No, you’re not,” he murmured, as if trying to reconcile something inside himself. “But you’re not like anyone else either.”

Your chest tightened at the words, but you quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to let yourself feel vulnerable. You folded your arms across your chest, as if protecting yourself from something you couldn’t name. “I don’t want to be a puzzle for you to solve, Viktor. I don’t want to be some challenge you feel like you need to conquer. That’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. He wanted to argue, to convince you that it wasn’t about conquest, that it was about something deeper, but he could tell it wasn’t the right time. Not yet. “I don’t… I don’t think of you like that,” he said, his voice almost too soft, as if afraid to break the fragile moment between you. “I think of you as someone I want to understand, someone who...” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence, the words feeling too heavy in the air.

You shifted in your seat, your eyes narrowing slightly as you considered his words. There was a vulnerability in his voice, a quiet sincerity that you weren’t used to hearing. You almost wanted to reach out, to ease the tension that hung between you, but you held yourself back.

There was a long, aching pause between you before Viktor cleared his throat and leaned back, trying to break the silence. “So,” he said, the words coming out in a lighter tone, “how many do-overs do you think we can have?”

You rolled your eyes at him, a small, rueful smile tugging at your lips. “I find myself hoping that each one is the last one,” you replied dryly, though your heart wasn’t fully in the jest. “Thank you for all the help.”

Viktor smiled, a faint, almost self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. “Oh, no worries. I’ll see you at the Christmas party?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You nodded, your expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said, your tone neutral, but not dismissive. “Take care, Viktor.”

With that, you parted ways, the lingering tension still hanging between you, neither fully satisfied with the conversation, but both with the understanding that you were somehow still connected—however uncertain that connection was.

You found an unbearable thought gnawing at you—that in this state, the only ‘do-over’ you could count on was friendship, and Viktor couldn’t afford that. Inevitably, it would end with nothing.

***

It wasn’t exactly a party, but the pub was completely packed with people—students, assistants, and random individuals who wandered around campus, their roles in it a complete mystery. Everything was bathed in the warm glow of Christmas decorations, making the space feel even more cramped.

You sat at a small round table with Sue, some familiar faces scattered around, including Jayce and Viktor, who had joined after their TA duties. Sue was mid-sentence when you leaned back in your chair, your eyes wandering. You weren’t in the mood for all the noise tonight. The words blurred around you as you half-listened, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of your glass—a quiet distraction. Viktor was talking to Jayce, his sharp voice cutting through the noise every now and then. His dry wit was always on full display, the kind that kept people around him in that odd mix of awe and wariness.

“You okay?” Sue’s voice brought you back. You blinked, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, just... tired, I guess,” you said, forcing a polite smile as you took a sip of your drink.

The room was hazy with cigarette smoke, the heat becoming unbearable. The whole scene was so unbearably sweet and cozy that it made you flinch. Your eyes kept glancing over to Viktor, who would immediately look away as soon as your gazes met. You kept thinking about what another do-over could look like and felt yourself growing more and more frustrated with the space between you, even though you were sitting so close to each other. You could feel Sue's eyes on you but couldn’t quite explain why you felt this way.

Sue raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, if you need to bail early, I totally get it.”

You hesitated, then gave a half shrug. “I think I’ll head out. Just... not feeling it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sue replied, offering a quick nod. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” You stood, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. As you made your way through the maze of tables, you could hear Viktor's voice in the background—just enough to make you pause. You could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the exit.

Viktor watched as you stood and walked away, a wave of frustration rising within him, forming itself into a long sigh. He had tried, hadn’t he? He had said things—things he never said to anyone—but now you were leaving, retreating like always. His jaw tightened, and he felt his fingers curl into fists on the table. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not after everything. He should’ve known better, but still, your departure stung.

He couldn’t place why, but it felt like you were slipping away just as he was beginning to reach out. You were both so fucking terrible at talking, at letting yourselves feel anything real. Why did it have to be so difficult?

The cold air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, and for a moment, it felt like a relief. The street was quiet, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath your boots. You slid your headphones on and started walking toward the dorms, matching your steps to the rhythm of the song.

You awaited rest and home and being far away from here with utter impatience. Just one more evening of this. Just one more evening of thinking and biting at your own lips, glancing at your phone, and then it would only be your parents, and Hale, and the quiet evenings at Sheffield, for a week.

Against reason, Viktor followed you, his footsteps soft but steady as he stepped out of the pub moments later. His eyes caught sight of your retreating figure, and a small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips. He’d almost not been surprised—almost expected it.

He called out your name, his voice lost to the wind and muffled by the sounds of the night. But you didn’t hear him. Quickening his pace, his breath misted in the cold air. He called again, louder this time, but still, you didn’t turn.

A small part of him considered letting you go, letting you stew in your thoughts, just leaving it for after the break. But the rest of him felt pulled, like a dog on a leash in front of a vet’s door.

You were nearing the entrance to the dorms when you finally paused, taking a deep breath, and tugging your headphones off with a slight wince. The moment you heard your name, you froze, your heart skipping in your chest.

“Hey you!” Viktor’s voice was closer now, cutting through the night. When you turned, you saw him standing at the edge of the walkway, just outside the dorm. His breath came in visible puffs, his chest heaving as if he’d run after you.

“You walk... so fucking fast,” he said, still catching his breath. “I never figured you for the type to run off so bluntly. But I suppose that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Yes, just laugh it out. Viktor took a few steps forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Are you fucking drunk again?” you blinked, your mind racing. You had to admit to yourself that Viktor drunkenly following you from the bar was a coin toss you wouldn’t have bet on. Especially after your last talk. Funny.

“Are you not?” he countered, his words smoother than you expected.

“No. Go back to your pub, Viktor.” Your voice was flat now, each word carefully measured. You exhaled sharply, your shoulders sinking as if the weight of the evening had finally caught up with you. You were so tired of this.

Viktor tilted his head, his smile barely visible in the shadows as he took a step closer. “Eh, make me,” he said softly, though it wasn’t a challenge—not really.

Another step.

“I am so not in the mood for you now,” you muttered, your hands dropping limply by your sides as you turned away, dragging yourself down the corridor toward the elevators. Your voice lacked its usual bite, tinged instead with exhaustion.

“Alright, alright, I’m not drunk, just had one pint. Oh, come on,” Viktor mock-pleaded, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. “You won’t see me the entire holiday break.”

“And I will savour every single day of this glorious relief from your constant nagging, poking, your sweet side and your dick side, and having fun at my expense,” you snapped, jabbing the elevator button with increasing impatience, your words punctuated by each press.

You were expecting another joke, but Viktor’s hands gripped your waist firmly, twisting you around. Your breath caught as he pulled you flush against him, the heat of his body sharp against the cold you’d carried in from outside.

“Shut up,” he breathed, his voice raw and ragged as his lips found yours. The kiss was unsteady, heated, and messy, tasting faintly of sweet beer and a frustration that mirrored your own. He panted into your mouth, his lips parting just enough to nip at yours.

“Just… shut up, for once,” he murmured, crowding you against the elevator door. It slid open behind you with a soft chime, and you stumbled inside, Viktor’s cane clattering to the floor as he steadied you against the wall. He pulled your turtleneck down to lick your neck greedily over the bite mark he had left there. His hands quickly found their way under your sweater, and he gasped, bemused by your lack of underwear. “No bra?” Again. A low chuckle rumbled against your skin. “Is that your idea of a Christmas present?”

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, your voice still sharp with lingering anger. Your hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but the lack of real force and your hands still gripping his coat tightly betrayed you.

“Are you sure?” Viktor smirked, his grip firm as he tilted your chin up, pressing a lingering, deceptively sweet kiss to your lips. “This is your floor,” he said, his voice agonizingly calm as he stepped back, gesturing toward the elevator doors sliding open.

“Or…” His tone shifted, almost teasing, as he pressed the button to close the doors and send them up to his floor instead. “You could come with me. For real, this time.”

You pulled him wordlessly toward you, offering no resistance—nothing more, nothing less. Words had failed you, but your actions were clear. It was enough. Viktor wanted to say, That’s what I thought, the words teasing the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. Instead, he captured your lips again, kissing frantically. He explored your mouth, swallowing the small sounds you made, the elevator a blur as it carried you upward.

By the time you reached his room, Viktor managed to open the door without breaking the kiss, his cane hanging hooked over his arm. You stumbled inside together, the heat between you growing unbearable, and he pressed you firmly against the door, his hands bracing your hips as his lips moved over yours with unrelenting zeal. You pulled him closer, your breath catching as you managed to rasp, “Bed?”

Viktor chuckled softly against your lips; his tone laced with teasing. “Impatient, are we?” But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the way his hands tightened on your hips as he broke the kiss just long enough to guide you further into the room.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice raw as your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him with you.

“Yes. Please, fuck me,” Viktor murmured, sweeping you into another fervent kiss as you stumbled toward the bed. “I’m so tired of you not fucking me.”

You scoffed into his mouth. And who is to blame for that? You sunk into the mattress, pulling Viktor with you by his belt, the cane poking your leg.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he whined, his voice laced with frustration as his clumsy hands fumbled with your coat. His hasty movements betrayed him, and in the rush, his knee accidentally pressed against your arm.

“Ow!” you winced, your sharp tone softening as you glanced at his face. The irritation melted away when you saw the unabashed eagerness in his expression, the way his brow furrowed in determination despite his lack of grace. “Is this going to be painful?” you asked, your lips quirking in a faint, teasing smile, though your voice still held a trace of genuine concern.

Viktor froze, blinking down at you like a scolded child. “Only if you want it to be,” he muttered, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back to regroup. His fingers moved more carefully now, peeling the coat off from underneath you with exaggerated precision. “Better?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Viktor granted you a low chuckle, his lips quirking in that familiar, lopsided smirk. “Ridiculous, perhaps, but effective,” he murmured as he continued with his careful work, peeling away the layers of your clothing like unwrapping a particularly stubborn present.

His own clothes, however, didn’t receive the same treatment. He shed them with reckless abandon, tossing each piece into an ever-growing messy pile near the bed, his leg brace a crown on top of it. His cane clattered softly to the floor as he leaned back for balance, the faintest flush spreading across his cheeks.

Once you were both were bare, he ran his palms gently along your sides and pressed his face to your hip, your belly, your neck, inhaling your skin. “God, you are so infuriating,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your body.

He glued himself to you, his hands roaming wherever they could reach, as if this were the moment he’d been waiting to happen for the longest time. And it was, of course. The decision to toss everything aside and just jump in might have been reckless, but he had no capacity to decide otherwise.

“Infuriating?” you laughed, feigning offense. “Is that the way you treat all of your conquests? Make them follow you around by the nose for months, until your resolve finally breaks after one pint?”

“No, only you,” he replied smoothly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He added with a sly smirk, “It’s my love language with you.”

“Love?” you repeated, voice laced with teasing incredulity, but the hesitation in your tone betrayed how the word caught you off guard.

“Shut up,” Viktor muttered, his hand gliding up your side as he kissed you, silencing your laughter before you could push further. “Attraction,” he murmured against your neck, his lips pressing a lingering kiss there. “Want,” he added, his teeth grazing your breast, earning a sharp gasp from your mouth. “Admiration,” he said, coming back up to meet your eyes and give you a slow, steady kiss. He took your fingers into his mouth and watched your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting.

His voice dipped lower, teasing, and dangerous. “Anyway, is that not what we have been doing?” His hands explored the meat of your ass with a firm grip, his touch both intoxicating and commanding as he pressed himself flush against your core. He shifted against you with a kind of intimacy that had your breath hitching.

“Have you not been loving me all this time?” His words, soft and taunting, carried a heat that matched the tension thrumming between you. His hand moved down between your thighs to scoop your wetness and lick it off his fingers, as he made sure you were watching. “Ah, it seems,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “you’ve been loving me back all along.”

You trembled under him, your breath catching as your hands gripped his shoulders. A quiet plea escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with vulnerability. “Don’t be mean, Viktor.”

For a moment, he stilled, his expression softening as he pulled back to look at you. His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, held a flicker of something warmer, deeper. “Mean?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “No. Not with you.”

The teasing edge in his voice melted away as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, slow and deliberate, as though trying to convey what words couldn’t. He was so bad at talking if you thought he was being mean. His hands cradled your face, and his next words came as a low promise against your skin. “I could never be mean to you.”

You huffed softly, a half-laugh escaping you as memories of all the times he’d actually been mean flitted through your mind. “Liar,” you muttered against his lips, though there was no venom in your tone. Instead, you kissed him back longingly, your fingers threading into his hair as your thighs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer.

Viktor exhaled a shaky breath, his control fraying under your touch. “Perhaps,” he admitted with a faint, self-deprecating smile, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But you give as good as you get, don’t you?” he said playfully, reaching over to pull a condom out of his bedside drawer and put it on swiftly. Then, he grabbed a spare pillow to prop his leg. His belly was tied into a knot, teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure, as he placed one hand between where your bodies were going to meet to align himself at the entrance.

He studied your face, as if to check if there was any resistance left. But you only looked at him with wide eyes, your hands fisting the bed sheet. He swept through his body in a final calculation of what could go wrong—he wasn’t drunk, that was a good start. His leg, eh, not perfect, but he should be able to pull this off. Did he want to love you or tease you? He had forgotten which one it was. A shuddery breath escaped him when your bodies finally connected—he entered you slowly, holding back to lay on top of you.

The first thrust was so deliberate, so slow, so overwhelming that you both moaned into each other's mouths. Your brows tied themselves together, your palms stiff in hesitation over his shoulders, as the feeling of relief surged through you. A relief of finally not being empty.

The only movement Viktor allowed himself was the roll of his hips as he sunk inside you, beat after beat. His arms caged you in, one of his hands gripping your shoulder, the other cradling the base of your skull, as he kept your faces close so he could study you, watch you. He stared at you obscenely, taking in your expressions, disbelief wrenching breath out of his lungs. You really wanted him. You were holding him in a vacuous trap, making it hard to pull out and push back in.

And this wasn’t new. People wanted him, he knew that. They wanted him for this—for a fun fuck—and when they continued to want him afterward, it felt like a fluke. So he shut it down. And it made him feel powerful. No, it made him feel weak. It made his weakness powerful. It gave him the power to disappear from it, from himself, to not be present.

The fact that he was present now, attentive, was rather new for him. Not entirely—he’d had a glimpse of what it could be that night when you were high together, but he hadn’t dared breach the boundary of clothing then. This, though, was entirely different. He watched you so carefully, studying every reaction to his touch. He pushed where you gasped and retreated where you winced. Your kisses were as hungry as his, and it made him feel so full. The fuck was more than fun. It made him feel powerful in a way that didn’t make him feel weak.

He tightened his grip, his forehead resting on yours as he buried himself deep inside, thrust after thrust. His mouth open against you, breathing in every gasp, every whimper you were willing to give him. His pace was even, unwavering, as he murmured against your lips, “You’ve been giving me so much grief.”

He locked eyes with you, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he added, “But it really feels like you’ve been loving me back. Haven’t you?” His voice was soft, as though waiting for you to answer not just with words, but with the quiet truth in your eyes.

You slid your fingers into his hair, pulling him in for another desperate kiss, and Viktor caught a faint, barely audible ‘yes,’ offered to drown deep in his throat, traveling straight to his heart, as if you were offering him a secret you hadn’t meant to give away. The sound stirred something deep within him, and as you arched against him, your breath catching, he deepened the kiss and quickened his pace. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, murmuring quiet praises, each word filled with reverence as you moved together toward completion.

He slid one hand to the nape of your neck, another snaked itself between your bodies, his fingers parting you as he whispered softly, “Oh, my girl.” Your eyes fluttered shut, arms wrapping around his shoulders and you muffled your own moan against his mouth, lips and noses brushing against each other. He rubbed lazy circles on your clit, a smile blooming on his face when he felt your back arching beneath him, hips pressing upward to meet his, your cunt clenching around his cock in a tight, needy hug.

He felt your thighs squeezing his hips, your walls fluttering, pulling him deeper inside you, with you. You dug your nails into his shoulders, lips parted pressed against his, foreheads pressed together mingling droplets of sweat into one.

You felt a sudden urge to say, “Thank you,” distorted by a loud moan as you came on his cock, on his fingers, your body tensing up and bending to the sound of his name falling from her lips. It took a long time, and you thought it would never stop, your climax blinding, contorting your body around him with a force to bend and crush.

Viktor’s mind got invaded by a thought of how great it felt to make a girl such as yourself lose control over her own muscles. How it had made him grow taller and bigger, his heart swollen with your grace, his lips bruised from your teeth. Slowly, he worked you through each spasm, and when you were ready, he retreated his hand to wrap both arms around you and buried his face in your neck. His breathing jagged, teeth sinking into your shoulder to not say too much at the sudden tightness around his cock.

His rhythm began to stutter, movements growing urgent by the minute as he buried himself within you up to the hilt. His breath was uneven, his muscles flexing and twisting. He felt your core hugging his cock so tight, he couldn’t hold back his own panting, as if he were a teenager all over again. He moved his face to brush against yours, whispered your name again, voice trembling, and he came with one thick, everlasting pang, whimpering weakly into your mouth.

His body melted into yours with a long, contented sigh, his arms wrapped tightly around you, stomachs and chests pressed, rising and falling together. You stayed like that in silence for a few moments, not moving, just touching, just breathing, just being.

Finally, Viktor rolled you both to the side, his leg hooked over your hip, fingers threading through your hair, and gave you an almost solemn look.

“What is this face?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek and brushing your thumb across his lip.

He sucked on it slowly, not breaking eye contact. “I never thought you would be so…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and just as you braced yourself for another joke, he finished, “wonderful.”

You managed only to whisper a quiet “Viktor—,” your grip tightening around him as the weight of this little praise crushed you. As his eyes crushed you, his warmth crushed you, as you crushed yourself with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

Viktor pulled back just a few inches, his gaze searching yours. “Are you going away for Christmas tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative. Normal.

You nodded slowly, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you answered, “Yeah.”

“Will you stay?” Please, stay. Please don’t have me wake up alone tomorrow. A weakness crept back in.

You nodded against his neck. A quiet breath escaped Viktor’s lips as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, pulling you back against him. He sighed softly, the sound almost like a weight lifting. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just holding you as if afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter now. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain my absence to Sue though.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’ll just tell her you got really into the holiday spirit and had to spend the night with your favourite TA.”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’m sure she’ll believe that,” you replied, though the words felt lighter now, softer.

Viktor’s expression shifted to one of mock seriousness as he pulled you a little closer. “But tomorrow, when the morning comes,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I’ll have to call it in. You caught me drunk, used me for your advantage,” he paused, his eyes glinting with mischief, “and I’ll make sure everyone knows it.”

You let out a small laugh, your face flushing slightly at the absurdity of the situation. “Selling me out already, I see how this will go,” you said, teasing him back. “I’m sure you won’t mind telling them how you practically begged me to stay the night and cuddle you.”

Viktor smiled, but his eyes softened. “I won’t,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple again, holding you in the quiet aftermath. The moment felt almost unreal—so intimate, so fragile—and yet, there you were. He wouldn’t dare break it by asking for more. And even though Viktor’s chest was still swollen with fear, his mind drifted to sleep in your arms.

Your own mind, however, was restless. As the high of your connection faded, you woke up early, your thoughts gnawing at you. Viktor was fast asleep, his expression so peaceful that you couldn’t believe he had a bad bone in his body. Yet, you had been stabbed so many times. It wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be over, just like that. What if he was right, and you weren’t meant to share the awkwardness of the morning? What if he tried to shrug it off once he woke up? Would you survive if he did?

No. You wouldn’t.

Cursing yourself, you slid out of bed, put your clothes back on, and gave Viktor, who was sleeping soundly, one last glance that tore through your soul. And left.

***

The morning light crept through the gaps in the blinds, painting pale stripes across the sheets. Viktor stirred, his body heavy and warm, though there was an odd hollowness in the bed. He reached out instinctively, the fog of sleep not yet cleared, his fingers brushing against nothing but the cold fabric of the mattress. His eyes blinked open.

The room was silent.

He sat up slowly, scanning the space, the sense of emptiness clawing at him as the realisation began to take shape. You were gone.

The sheets beside him were rumpled, but the space was cold, long abandoned. For a moment, he stared at the spot you’d occupied, trying to convince himself you might still be here. Perhaps you were in the bathroom, or in his tiny kitchen searching for tea—but no sound of movement met his ears.

A chill crept through his chest, spreading outwards, a tight knot forming in his stomach. You left.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements clumsy, hurried, his leg straining without the brace. There had to be something—a note, a message, anything that might explain. The bedside table was empty. The dresser? Nothing. Viktor opened a drawer, then another, rifling through with increasing desperation, though he knew even as he searched how ridiculous it was. You wouldn’t leave a note in a drawer.

His gaze snapped to his phone. He lunged for it, unlocking the screen with trembling fingers. Nothing. No missed calls. No texts.

He stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the empty screen. His chest tightened, his breaths coming faster, each one shallower than the last. Of course.

What had he been thinking? That after all his fumbling, after all his glaring flaws, you would stay? That someone like you, bright and untamed, would want someone like him—a man who could barely navigate his own feelings without tripping over them?

Right. His fingers clenched around the phone, the pressure digging into his palm. How stupid. How painfully, pathetically stupid. How weak.

He sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands. The weight of the silence pressed down on him. Every echo in the room seemed to mock him. The bed felt too big now, the walls closing in too fast. His mind replayed your smile, your laugh, the warmth in your eyes last night, and it made his chest ache. How could you think you’d earned something like this?

And yet, beneath the sinking despair, anger simmered. At himself. At you. At the cruel absurdity of it all. You’d kissed him, held him, and for a brief moment, he’d thought you were standing on equal ground. But the truth was stark now, laid bare in her absence: you’d left. Or maybe that was an equal ground, after all. Now, you were truly even.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his spiralling thoughts. He didn’t answer immediately, hoping whoever it was would go away, but the knock came again, louder this time.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s familiar voice called from the other side. “You ready? We’ve got to leave in half an hour, mate.”

Viktor swallowed hard; his throat dry. His hands slowly dropped from his face as he stared at the door. Jayce’s voice was too cheerful, too ordinary, too far removed from the storm brewing inside him. He wanted to shout at him, to tell him to go away, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I’ll be ready,” he croaked after a pause, his voice hoarse and thin.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment, then the sound of Jayce’s footsteps retreating down the hall. Viktor exhaled shakily, his gaze drifting back to the rumpled sheets beside him. Forcing himself to move, he stood and began to gather his things. Each motion felt mechanical, hollow. The knot in his chest didn’t loosen, but he pushed it down, swallowing it whole. It was almost Christmas. He had to pretend. At least for a little while longer.

[belovedmuichiro]

I saw a post once that entertained the idea of Tsutako being in the background of Sanemi’s hometown in the anime, and it got me thinking about a sanegiyuu childhood meet cute.

…

- When Giyuu was 13, he took a trip with Tsutako to a neighboring city where her fiancé had come from

- Though Giyuu was a much friendlier person as a child, he was still quiet, reserved and nervous. As a result, being in a bigger city was overwhelming and he struggled to keep up with Tsutako as they walked

- Before they could reach her fiancé’s home, Giyuu was separated from her in a crowd

- Without any people skills to speak of or the confidence to ask for help, Giyuu let the crowd swallow him up until he found a small spot he could cower in

- He ended up hiding under the stairs of a shrine where nobody could see him. He cried so quietly, nobody could possibly hear him either, but a boy did miraculously find him

- The boy was strikingly beautiful with stark white hair and piercing eyes. His presence made Giyuu stop crying almost immediately, but only because he was mesmerized.

- When the boy spoke, he was blunt and sort of rude but Giyuu hung onto every word he said as if he was a kind spirit come to save him

- “You cry like my little siblings,” he observed. It was a simple, random sort of thing to say but it perplexed Giyuu so much that he didn’t cry any longer

- Giyuu learned that this particular shrine is where the boy would find one of his brothers hiding, so when he saw Giyuu curled up, he thought something might’ve happened to him

- Giyuu reluctantly explained he was separated from Tsutako while visiting. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he should trust a stranger but they were clearly of a similar age and that put him at ease compared to an adult

- The boy gave Giyuu a small canteen of water before they could continue because the crying had obviously overwhelmed him. He then asked for the fiancé’s name, which he scowled upon hearing, surprisingly knowing the person

- “Is that bad?” Giyuu nervously asked

- “He’s one of the sons of our landlord,” the boy explained, “He’s fine. His family’s a buncha dicks.”

- Profanities aside, Giyuu asked if he could lead him there, and the boy agreed

- “What did his family do?” Giyuu asked on the way

- “Their kid brother said some shit about my family bein’ too big and my brother got into a fight with him about it.”

- “How big is your family?”

- “Nine of us. I have six siblings.”

- Giyuu learned that his mother had just given birth, which prompted the rude comment from their landlord’s son. He also had a father who he didn’t want to talk about on account of him angering some violent people

- Though the boy didn’t seem terribly interested in prying into Giyuu’s life, he still asked, “What about you?”

- “I just have my sister. My parents died when I was young.”

- “Lucky you have a sister.”

- “Yes… I’m Giyuu, by the way.”

- For a moment, the boy looked hesitant to give anymore details about himself, but must’ve decided he doesn’t have much to lose.

- “Sanemi.”

- On the way to the landlord’s home, it began to rain so Sanemi pulled Giyuu aside near a food stall to wait it out.

- Giyuu, as luck would have it, did have a small amount of money on him and suggested they share a meal.

- Sanemi agreed, not letting on that he rarely has enough money to ever eat out. However, Giyuu became curious when Sanemi awkwardly held his food at his side and wouldn’t take a bite.

- He didnt want to admit it, but his plan was to pocket whatever Giyuu bought him to bring home to his family. He wasn’t going to tell Giyuu, but the boy’s earnest, honest face pulled it out of him

- In response, Giyuu bought him another and asked that he feed himself as well

- When Sanemi finally did eat, Giyuu smiled for the first time. It flustered Sanemi, who quickly learned he couldn’t handle a pretty face

- When the rain ended, people came flooding to the streets in overwhelming numbers that scared Giyuu again

- To reassure him, Sanemi grabbed his hand and returned his earlier smile, promising he’ll be okay as long as they stick together

- Giyuu took to Sanemi with awe. The crowd was still scary, but Giyuu grounded himself in the feeling of his companion’s hand and trusted his word.

- Eventually they did find themselves at the landlord’s house. Most of the family was out looking for Giyuu, but luckily Tsutako stayed and was there to greet him.

- This was also a relief to Sanemi, who wasn’t sure he would be able to resist driving his fist into the face of the boy who fought with Genya

- Sanemi intended to leave with no commotion, just an odd empty feeling at the notion of leaving his new acquaintance, but Giyuu stopped him

- “Thank you for helping me,” he said with much more confidence than the first time he spoke. “You’re very kind, Sanemi.”

- Sanemi, flustered, shrugged and promised it was no problem. “Couldn’t just leave ya there…”

- “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

- When Giyuu said this, he held onto the hope that because Tsutako new husband had close ties to Sanemi’s, they would surely meet again one day

- It was hard to explain but Giyuu felt drawn to Sanemi, like he was a special person he was meant to meet

- Of course, he couldn’t predict the tragedy that would befall both of them

- Years later, long after Tsutako and the Shinazugawa family were murdered, Sanemi was welcomed into the Hashira and finally met Giyuu again

- Only this time, he was quiet and cold. He didn’t give any indication that he remembered Sanemi and didn’t have any of the kindness he was full of as a child. Sanemi decided that he must’ve turned into a conceited ass with no time for the little people, he probably didn’t even remember him.

- But it was impossible for Giyuu to forget who Sanemi was. Even under all the scars and curses, he was still the boy who saved him that day. But Giyuu knew they had fundamentally changed as people, and clearly Sanemi wanted nothing to do with him any longer

- Unfortunately for them, the draw remains there no matter how far apart they try to drift.

[miserable-wanker]

July 10, 1778; picnic at the Great Falls

"After viewing these falls we seated ourselves round the General under a large spreading oak within view of the spray and in hearing of the noise. A fine cool spring bubbled out most charmingly from the bottom of the tree. The travelling canteens were immediately emptied and a modest repast spread before us, of cold ham, ox tongue and some biscuit. With the assistance of a little spirit we composed some excellent grog. Then we chatted away a very cheerful half hour — and then took our leave of the friendly oak — its refreshing spring."

[restlessmaknae]

got me so lovesick // gyuvin

A school radio announcement goes wrong, and you accidentally end up confessing to the whole school that you might have a crush on a member of the school band - which consists of Gyuvin, Taesan, Jungwon and Yechan.

➳ Characters: band member!Gyuvin x school radio host!female reader/you

➳ Genre: high school au, boarding school au, rich kids au, comedy, fluff

➳ Words: 6.4k

➳ Warning: mentions of food, drinks, reader is a bit chaotic and overdramatic and overthinks a lot

➳ A/N: This story is part of my KOZ International High series, but can totally be read on its own as it's Gyuvin's own story.

“Good morning, everyone! This is your host, Y/N, and me and the whole school radio team hope that you had a wonderful summer. We would like to warmly welcome the freshman and welcome back all the other students. This year will probably be very challenging for a lot of you, especially for me and my fellow seniors, but since it’s still just the first day, let's not be sad! Here’s one of the most requested songs to start the new school year right with the last bits of summer: Supernova by aespa.”

You introduced the song before you pressed play on the audio. Then, you put your mic on mute and turned towards Hikaru who sat on the chair beside yours. She shook her head.

“I swear to god, we’re always ready to make the announcements, but the student service office can’t even help us out,” you grumbled as you reached for your bottle of water to take a sip from it.

It was just you, Hikaru and Seokjoon – the boy was currently checking on the cables as if you hadn’t been doing this for two years – for now, but there was also Samantha who was in the school radio club with you, and who was currently chasing after teachers and officers for any possible updates. Even though you had already sent out the survey to other students for song recs last week, and had already reached out to the school board if they wanted to make any announcements during your usual slots for the school radio, they were more or less unresponsive. Apart from getting your hands on the weekly menu at the canteen, that is.

After gulping down the liquid and your growing frustration, you turned to the head of the school radio again.

“Do you think we should make the announcements after the third period? Maybe lunch break?”

“I don’t know about you, but I would rather sacrifice the break after the third period than lunch break. I’ve been missing the cafeteria food,” the girl admitted with a lopsided smile, and you cracked up immediately.

“Fair point,” you agreed because if there was one thing you really liked about this school, it was the food at the canteen. Sure, it was a private school, so the quality of the facilities should be better than average, but you had heard that food was something that was questionable even at boarding schools. However, KOZ International High had excellent choices to suit all dietary needs and preferences, and they were also generous with the portions. Guys even lined up for seconds at times.

After agreeing on the timing of the usual announcements for the beginning of the school year, you turned back to the mic and as Supernova ended, you were on air again.

“Since everyone is still sleepy, we’ve decided to spare you from the usual round of announcements and paperwork deadlines until the third break. However, what we can say confidently, and what might wake you up is that Insomnia, the school’s one and only band is back! They are going to perform at today’s ceremony, to officially kick off the school year in good spirits. And for all the freshmen who are new to them… you’ve been seriously missing out until now,” you teased playfully before bidding your goodbye with a promise to come back with the announcements later on. One slot down, one more to go.

Seokjoon huffed behind you, and you and Hikaru both turned towards the boy, eyebrows raised in question.

“I don’t know what’s so good about that band. They are good, but they are pretty much mid,” he blurted out the cause of his disapproval, and you exchanged a glance with Hikaru in disbelief. You were of the opinion that the creation of Insomnia was the best thing to happen in your sophomore year because the school finally had a band, and because the school ceremonies finally didn’t suck. The four-membered band frequently performed at school events, and even had their own Youtube channel which had grown rapidly over the past 2 years.

Not to mention that the four members – Taesan, Jungwon, Yechan and Gyuvin – were still very much approachable and friendly with others, and they didn’t look for any trouble unlike Seokjoon who always felt the need to pick on others for liking different things than he did.

“Just because you listen to different kinds of music doesn’t mean that they are mid in their own genre,” you reasoned calmly, but of course, that wasn’t good enough for the boy.

“Just because they look good doesn’t mean that they make good music.”

“They look good and they make good music,” you corrected the boy who just shook his head, a knowing smile playing along his lips.

“You have a crush on one of them, don’t you?”

“And if I do, what about it?” You exclaimed as you rose from your seat, puffing your chest out confidently. You and Seokjoon had gotten into arguments before, so you weren’t one to back down from this one either.

You faintly heard that someone was trying to get inside the room, but your door was locked as usual while you were on air. Hikaru stood up from beside you to walk towards the door, but Seokjoon continued on with the conversation in the meantime.

“Who do you have a crush on?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to answer his question, Samantha practically flew into the room and pushed you and Seokjoon away from the sound desk, pushing a button fervently before turning towards the two of you. She looked like she had been running, and you were more than perplexed because you had just said that you would make the announcements later on, so even if she had scooped up something, it couldn’t be that urgent.

However, Samantha was faster and told you why she had been rushing here:

“You guys were on live the whole time! So now the whole school knows that Seokjoon doesn’t like Insomnia, and that you, Y/N, have a crush on one of the members!”

You needed a moment to close your mouth after your jaw literally dropped, but then, your hands flew to your mouth when you realised what it meant that the whole school knew about it. The whole school included the members of Insomnia as well!

“Oh no… noooo… this can’t be happening,” you whined as you slid back into your chair, totally devastated. You covered your face with your hands as if you could hide away from everyone, but at least you couldn’t see the others’ expressions.

Hikaru put a hand on your shoulder sympathetically, and you were ready to hear some comforting words from her. Instead, she made you feel even worse when she pointed out:

“At least, you didn’t say who your crush is.”

Sure, because having a crush on any of them wouldn’t be enough for students to start gossiping or even worse, for the members of Insomnia to think of you as a crazy fangirl.

“Aaah, I’m so doomed…”

You were doomed.

If not from receiving multiple questions regarding your crush from multiple people in the corridor and in the classroom (even students you didn’t even know), then from agonising over what you should do when the third break rolled by. Should you apologise for the technical mishap? Which was totally your fault, by the way. You were the one who forgot to turn off the mic after signing off, so you couldn’t blame it on anyone.

Or rather, should you just act like nothing happened? That would mean you wouldn’t pressure the Insomnia members even more to tolerate your sudden confession because yes, you could admit once more that you had a crush on a member of Insomnia, but wouldn’t that make things worse? Wouldn’t that just make them more uncomfortable? Should you just say that it was a rhetorical question, nothing more?

Your two friends had different opinions on the matter, so mulling over it beside them in your classroom didn’t help either. Hikaru said that you should totally say that it was a rhetorical question if you wanted to avoid further gossip, but Hiyyih was of the opinion that you should confirm that you liked one of them. Who knew? Your crush might like you back.

“Ah, I don’t think that’s a good idea, to be honest,” Hikaru shook her head, and she looked like she didn’t want to say why she found it so unlikely that Han Taesan – the leader of Insomnia – would like you back. Yet, when you started questioning whether it was because you weren’t enough for a boy like him, she quickly dismissed your doubts.

“No, it’s just…” She started hesitantly, and looked around before leaning closer to the two of you. “I’ve heard from Kit that Taesan sat beside the head of the Maths club on the way home from their school trip willingly. Some claim that they have seen them warm up to each other, and that she fell asleep on his shoulder!” Hikaru whispered so quietly that you almost didn’t catch her words, and well… you wished you didn’t catch them.

You leaned forward all the way and rested your head on the table, hoping that it would solve all your problems – which consisted of your school radio mishap during the first break and the fact that Han Taesan might be in love with a different girl. You were aware that he was just a distant crush. After all, you weren’t even in the same class. All four members of Insomnia were in the other class, not yours.

Yet, you had been keeping an eye on him ever since he had opened the door for you on the first day of freshman year after another guy had shut the door in your face. He was the quiet type of kind, but you liked the fact that he was always quick to respond when you asked him about band-related stuff for the school radio announcements, and he had even sent in song recs for the slots.

“I mean, you know how Kit is… it might be exaggerated,” Hiyyih tried to save the day, and Hikaru seconded that, adding that she didn’t know if it was 100% true because she had heard about it when she had come into school that day.

Still, even the probability of the summer trip events happening in any form prompted you to apologise for the technical mishap during the third break and to claim that the crush-related mention of yours was simply rhetorical. Then, you quickly moved on to announce the weekly menu, the deadlines for the international students’ paperwork and where the freshman could pick up their student ID cards.

You signed off as usual, but you couldn’t help but ponder over the whole thing even until the end of the day, even when you were forced to sit through the school year opening ceremony which would end with the members of Insomnia performing.

However, shame was rushing through your veins at the very thought of seeing the band perform after today’s events, and you felt your face flush. You felt like it would be a terrible idea to be present, and since you were at the very back of the event hall because you were already seniors, you could escape quietly after letting your homeroom teacher know that you would go to the restroom.

You let out a long sigh when you got outside of the hall, your shoulders slumped at ease. You looked around, but the corridor was blissfully empty, so you could actually head to the restroom without anyone bothering you. You planned on staying inside a cubicle until the whole event was over, but it got suffocating quickly, so you walked out, planning to get some fresh air outside of the building.

However, as you turned a corner, you managed to bump into Kim Gyuvin, the guy who played the synthesizer in Insomnia.

“Oh, sorry,” the boy mumbled with a chuckle, his fringe falling into his eyes. You had to crane your neck to look at him because he was just so impossibly tall, but his height wasn’t your biggest concern now. It was the fact that he must have heard your words from before, if not from the school radio itself because he had been outside playing basketball with some guys or whatever, then from other students for sure.

“No worries, it’s fine,” you tried to shrug it off, partially saying it to him and partially to yourself, and since he didn’t seem to want to make a further comment, you took a step to the right and started walking away from him.

However, he called after you, he called your name which made you turn around in no time. Oh no… he recognised you!

“Yes?” You asked, trying to play the dumb, but your stomach turned into a gigantic knot in no time, and you felt dizzy immediately. This couldn’t go well, surely, he knew what had happened and he wanted to call you out on it. It couldn’t be for any other reason…

“Aren’t you coming back to the hall? We’ll perform soon.”

Surely, he had to know about it, he was just playing cool, but you were on the verge of running away from him and from this whole school.

“Oh no, I’m just…” You hesitated, trying to come up with a plausible explanation, but your brain kept telling you that you were already busted. He probably saw through you, right? “I’m just not feeling… super well,” you croaked out, a drop of sweat rolling down your cheeks as the words left your mouth.

Gyuvin seemed genuinely taken aback, and you couldn’t tell whether it was out of concern or surprise, but you just wished he could leave as soon as possible. Instead, he offered:

“Do you want me to walk you to the infirmary?”

Now, it was your turn to be taken aback because what the hell? This was not the scenario you had expected, and this was not the answer you had expected. You were trying to come up with reasons as to why he would go as far as walking you to the infirmary when he knew nothing about why you were feeling off, but then, your nervous ass decided to join the game and you shook your hands in front of your chest out of desperation:

“No, no way! I mean, there’s no need. You have to go and perform anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Gyuvin quirked an eyebrow, suspiciously eyeing you, but you bobbed your head so fervently, you were afraid it would fall off. “Alright, then. Get well soon!” He wished before turning around and heading back to the event hall.

You thought it was over and you were celebrating your little victory of not making a fool out of yourself for the second time that day, but then he called out your name once more, and you almost got a heart attack.

“Thanks for defending us! We’re happy to have supportive fans like you,” he exclaimed with a big smile, a genuine one, but before you could react, the boy sprung off and was out of sight.

Needless to say, you were more shocked than ever before in your whole entire life.

Your whole life was in a frenzy for three whole days before things started to calm down again. If the whole paperwork part of being an international student at a boarding school, moving into the student halls for the semester and dealing with your jet-lag wasn’t enough, the whole school radio fiasco topped it all off.

After the technical mishap on the first day, you always double-checked whether you muted your mic or not, and didn’t dare to talk to others around you until you made sure that the whole school didn’t hear you. You had random students ask you if you really did have a crush on one of the Insomnia members, and if you did, who it was (some girl even claimed Jungwon for herself which was scary because apparently it meant that no one else could have a crush on the boy), and it just got annoying after a while.

On the other hand, it was Seokjoon who had it worse. The boy was fairly liked in your class before, but now, he complained about girls giving him the cold shoulder because he dared to disrespect Insomnia out loud.

“Well, he had it coming,” Hikaru mentioned before sipping on her mango juice, and it was true that Seokjoon wasn’t the friendliest guy at school, and he deserved to have his real personality exposed, the one that he didn’t show when he was flirting with girls.

Either way, there was already new drama with the father of one of the freshmen running for the election in her country and having memes of him speaking at an event, so you were glad that someone else stole the spotlight from you because you had enough of it for the whole year.

Whilst it was nice that you didn’t get that many knowing glances or stupid questions by the end of the first week, you simply didn’t know how to function in front of the members of Insomnia. Thankfully, you weren’t really in the same space with them apart from seeing them at the canteen, but you just had to see Taesan walk out of the school building with the head of the Maths club a week later.

It was already past 7PM, and you had finished dinner at the canteen, but your plan of peacefully walking back to the student halls was hijacked, and you had to duck behind a giant bush to not get caught. You could already picture what Taesan would be thinking if he saw you around him after classes (and probably after his band practice), and no, thank you, you didn’t need him to think that you were following him around.

You watched him crack a smile when he casted a glance at the girl beside him, and you felt something twist within you. Some raw, gawking, painful emotion overtook you, and you knew it right then and there that Kit was right. They must have warmed up to each other because though you didn’t know a lot about the head of the Maths club, you knew that Taesan wouldn’t talk to, let alone smile at just anyone like that.

Oh gosh, Hikaru was right…. Thank God you didn’t tell the whole school who you had a crush on!

“Why are we hiding behind a bush?” A male voice asked beside you, and you almost let out a squeal when you caught sight of Gyuvin crouching on your right.

“Jeez, you scared me!”

“I guess I did. You were zoning out so badly, you didn’t even hear me walk up to you,” the boy called you out, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Sure, it must have been an odd sight to see you crouched down behind a bush, but you had your reasons.

When you looked over the bush once over, you saw that the pair was out of sight, so you straightened your legs and turned to Gyuvin who did the same. Now, he was a whole lot taller than you as opposed to your crouching forms, and well, it was more difficult to take yourself seriously when you had to look up at him like that. You were sure that he thought this situation was way too funny.

“Do I really have to explain?”

“You don’t have to, but I’m kinda curious,” Gyuvin replied with an excited grin and looked at you with those big, round eyes that reminded you of your dog’s back home. You heaved a sigh, probably way too dramatic, but you just had to let it all out before you could admit the truth to him.

“So I was just coming from the canteen when I saw Taesan with the head of the Maths club walk out of the main building, and I panicked.” “Panicked? But why?” Gyuvin tilted his head in confusion, and you let out a sigh. Again.

“Well, if it had not been obvious, I had been trying to avoid you guys since the school radio incident. I was afraid that Taesan would jump to conclusions if he saw me around him after school.”

“But you live in the halls and eat dinner at the canteen. Why would he jump to conclusions?”

The boy looked so perplexed that you wondered if he really was that oblivious or he was just trying to make you feel better. After all, he could also have been the one you had a crush on, so why was he acting so… coolly? So unbothered?

“Wait, does Taesan not care about the school radio incident? About me possibly having a crush on one of you?”

The boy furrowed his eyebrows for a few seconds before his features finally smoothed out, and he let out a carefree laughter. The kind of laughter that you didn’t appreciate given the circumstances, so you smacked his side lightly to reprimand him.

“Ouch,” he yelped, reaching for the spot you just hit, but it couldn’t be as painful as he made it out to be. 

“I was being serious, Gyuvin! Don’t laugh at me!” You glared at him, putting your hands on your hips to appear more determined and more bossy than ever before. May it be because of that or because the boy was willing to answer either way, but he shared with you afterwards:

“If you want to know, we seriously didn’t give it much thought. Not me, not Yechan, not Jungwon and definitely not Taesan. So no, he would definitely not jump to the wrong conclusions. Believe me, I’m serious,” he stated in a surprisingly genuine tone, but you eyed him for a good ten seconds to see if he would break character.

When he didn’t, you let your shoulders drop and let out a long, long sigh. Again.

“Thank God! This whole situation has been giving me more stress than all my previous years here combined,” you admitted as you reached for your temple, feeling a headache creeping on.

“Oh yeah, the good old school drama. Insomnia had its fair share of them, you know,” he mused out loud, his lips curling upwards on one side. You didn’t know whether he added this to make you feel better or to make it seem like something that could happen to anybody, but you were thankful for his comment. Even more so when he reached a bottle out to you. “Want my banana milk?”

“Aww, thanks! That’s my favourite,” you squealed excitedly as you got your hands on the sweet drink. You immediately stripped the straw off and pierced it through the protective layer on top.

And somehow, this was how you walked back to the student halls with Gyuvin by your side, sipping on his banana milk.

Befriending Gyuvin was definitely not on your bingo card for the new school year.

Or well… you weren’t sure that you were friends, but you did act friendly with each other afterwards. He greeted you in the hallways, asked about your days when you met in the communal room of the student hall, and somehow, he never failed to request a song for the school radio. He even went as far as sitting beside you in the canteen for dinner much to Hiyyih and Hikaru’s amusement. Even though they knew everything, so they were aware that you two started talking since the incident, they didn’t really think much of it. Not until the boy casually plopped down beside you and the girls for dinner. He explained that Taesan and Jungwon didn’t live in the student halls, and though Yechan did, he was always the first to have dinner because that boy was hungry all the time.

After that, the girls couldn’t stop teasing you about Gyuvin, and how it seemed like you could actually have an Insomnia member to yourself even though Taesan liked a different girl.

“Come on! It’s not like that,” you protested, trying to talk some sense into the girls, but they were relentless.

“People say that it’s not like that when it’s exactly like that. Think about what happened at the sports day with Anton,” Hikaru teased with a grin, talking about the annual sports day which took place at the end of October. Someone said that they saw the school magazine writer hugging Anton after she had won the swimming competition in your year, but she denied everything. Apparently, even the tips of Anton’s ears blushed when he was asked the same question, so something must have been going on.

On the other hand, you and Gyuvin weren’t like that. At least, you didn’t think so, so you pushed Hikaru’s shoulder playfully as a sign of disapproval. The girl pushed you back and somewhere along the way, you got into a pillow fight in Hiyyih’s room while denying that you didn’t like the said guy.

However, your emotions were difficult to decipher lately. You somehow managed to get over your crush on Taesan without much of a… breakdown? Heartbreak? Sure, seeing him with the head of the Maths club for the first time hadn’t been the best feeling in the world, but he seemed happy, and that’s what mattered. Besides, it was only platonic on your part, you didn’t even interact a lot apart from what was necessary for the school radio, and things weren’t about to change in your senior year.

Plus, you had to admit that you enjoyed talking to Gyuvin. He was a really fun guy, and though you never knew when to take him seriously even though he was sometimes totally serious, you knew that he was genuine. He didn’t play a part, he was just being himself, and his jokes and playful remarks were enough to turn even your worst days into good ones.

Like that Friday night in November when you were moping on one of the couches in the communal room, holding a mug of steaming tea in your hands. Lemongrass tea was said to have a calming effect, but it either didn’t work on you or didn’t hit yet. On the other hand, Gyuvin joined you as soon as he caught sight of you, and asked why you were so down.

“It’s just that I did worse on a test than I wanted to,” you admitted, your lips curling downwards. You usually didn’t let academics get you down because you didn’t need to have perfect scores to get into the university you wanted, and your parents weren’t that strict about your grades either, but that day, you really took it to heart.

“It’s okay. There will be more tests on which you can do better…” Gyuvin comforted you, and you turned your head to look at him. He gave you a gentle smile before he reached out to ruffle your hair. A habit that you might have grown fond of. “Or you can even do worse,” he added with a shrug, his playful side resurfacing.

You immediately smacked his side to punish him.

“Hey! You do know that for someone as small as you, you do hit pretty hard,” he complained as his hands flew to the spot you hit. You stuck your tongue out at him like a child, but beside him, you could be one.

“I’m not small! You are just too tall!”

“Well, at least someone can reach the top of the shelf,” he wiggled his eyebrows, reminding you of the fact that you needed to ask for his help when you wanted to get something down from the top shelf in the communal kitchen. Because somehow the cleaning lady always put your scattered things on the top one. “Speaking of which, want a banana milk?” Gyuvin quirked an eyebrow, way too proud with himself when you immediately perked up, giving in.

However, instead of getting a bottle out of his pockets or his bag like he usually did, he prompted you to follow him to the nearest communal kitchen. Since you were provided breakfast, lunch and dinner at the school, the kitchen wasn’t equipped with a lot of appliances. Instead, it had more fridges and shelves where you could store your snacks, fruits and drinks. There was one kitchen per 6 students which was more than enough, but you and Gyuvin used different kitchens, so you weren’t super familiar with this one.

It looked the same as yours, but instead of your snacks being placed on the top shelf, Gyuvin opened the top cupboard to reveal at least eight different bottles of banana milk.

“You’re kidding!” You gaped at the sight. “You’ve been hoarding these?”

“I don’t like how they taste, but I don’t want to waste them,” the boy shrugged as if it had been an everyday thing. To be honest, one could always choose whether they wanted some kind of milk (banana, strawberry or chocolate flavoured) or juice with their meal, so he could have totally opted out. Which meant that he must have kept them for you.

The thought fazed you so much that you almost didn’t notice Gyuvin giving you three bottles of your favourite drink.

“Here you go. And if you need someone to get them for you, you can always call me,” he winked at you, all casual and cool, and you played along with him as you put a hand on your heart, feigning being touched.

“Oh, my knight in shining armour…”

You both burst into laughter, and it felt nice to hear him laugh like that, and it felt nice to be so carefree after being down the whole day. Not to mention the thought of him keeping banana milk in his cupboard for you.

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you,” you mentioned after pulling yourself together, giving him a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome.”

He smiled back at you, and in that moment, you felt like your heart did a little somersault.

Wait… was it like that now?

It was natural, really. Being with Gyuvin was all natural and fun and easy. Despite the fact that you had been so overdramatic when you had accidentally blurted out that you might have a crush on one of the Insomnia members, spending time with Gyuvin was not at all complicated or nerve-wrecking. Not that you actually spent time with the other Insomnia members, so they could ask you who you meant by that, but you know… it was still a big thing in your eyes.

These days, whenever you were around Gyuvin, you felt another layer of emotion that had not been there before, and admitting to your best friends that you might actually like the boy was somewhat deliberating. Though of course they said that they had known it all along. Especially when Gyuvin once asked you if you wanted to watch ‘The Wild Robot’ with him in the cinema because his friends didn’t want to see an animated movie with him.

“It’s totally a date,” Hiyyih squealed when you broke the news to them, but Hikaru just looked at you with those knowing eyes, and you knew that she was thinking the same.

“I mean, he didn’t say it was a date as per se, but I mean… it’s the first time we’ll spend time together off-campus, just the two of us,” you mused out loud, trying to make sense of what this occasion could mean to the boy.

“Well, at least, you’ll have an excuse to wear something nice that’s not your uniform,” Hikaru pointed out matter-of-factly, but you just realised right then and there that you didn’t even know what to wear for the occasion.

Since you usually wore a version of your school uniform during weekdays and some casual homey clothes on the weekends, you didn’t really have anything in mind. However, you were meeting Gyuvin off-campus, and you were going to the cinema with him, so you really did have an excuse to wear something else.

Which turned out to be a much more difficult task in the end, but the girls helped you choose a nice shirt with a fluffy cardigan, loose jeans and high-heeled boots to go with your usual winter coat and fluffy scarf. You thanked your friends by buying them their favourite snacks, and after getting permission from your parents to leave the campus during the weekend, you were good to go. You needed their permission because you were underage, but it was a fairly smooth process with a whole online system set up where your homeroom teacher got a notification when your parents approved your leave, and you could show the approval on your phone to the guards at the gate.

You decided on meeting the boy at the entrance – a giant gate with the school’s logo engraved into the front –, and after showing your permissions to the guard, he let you out. You started talking about the previous occasions you had left the campus grounds while taking the bus to the cinema, and time flew by quickly.

You almost forgot how much you had agonised over choosing the right outfit, but when you got inside the building, and the effect of the apparent heating hit you, you got rid of your coat and scarf immediately.

As Gyuvin turned around, he literally froze for a moment before he blurted out the obvious:

“Wow, you look different!”

“Yeah, I know. No school uniform today, thank God.”

“No, I mean…” Gyuvin tried to pull himself together, but he blinked a few times and cleared his throat before he managed to get the following words out. “You look pretty.”

Your face felt like it caught on fire right. You couldn’t help but smile sheepishly at the compliment, and ever so obviously not knowing what to do with it, you suggested getting some popcorn for the movie. Gyuvin looked just as awkward as you thought you looked like, so you felt a bit better about this whole thing. Turns out you weren’t the only one who had never done anything like this before.

After grabbing some popcorn and drinks, you were back to your usual chatty selves, and you stopped talking only when the movie started rolling. You had to admit that you had been a bit perplexed when Gyuvin had suggested an animated movie because a lot of boys your age would call them childish and cringey. You, on the other hand, were always up for a good Disney or Pixar movie, so after making sure that this invitation wasn’t a joke on the boy’s part, you had given it immediately.

You didn’t even mind. The movie was funny, heart-warming, and almost made you cry at one point. It was honestly so wholesome and you left the movie theatre in such good spirits that you felt like you could take on the world. But conquering the tests the week ahead was enough for you…

Gyuvin was of the same opinion, and as you were exiting the place, you shared your two cents on the movie, and what you liked about it. It was fun listening to the boy’s side, and it yet again warmed your heart that he oh so genuinely shared his opinion on an animated movie. Afterwards, you grabbed some good old convenience store food on the way back, filling your bellies before heading back to campus.

“To be honest…” Gyuvin started while you were waiting for the bus, and you turned to look him in the eye. It was unlike him to falter in his words, so you were extra curious what he had to say. “I didn’t even ask the guys if they wanted to come with me. I’ve wanted to see it with you,” he admitted as he scratched the back of his neck, a bit too embarrassed for his liking.

You blushed at the implication, but you blushed even more when you realised that you didn’t mind. It would have definitely been different with others around, let them be his friends or your friends.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?” Gyuvin inquired before you could properly react to his previous comment, but you bobbed your head immediately.

“Hmm?”

You just looked at him, eyes wide with curiosity, but the boy seemed uncharacteristically nervous for someone who was usually very casual. He bit down on his lower lip and let out a sigh before he finally blurted out his question:

“Do you really have a crush on somebody in the band?”

Though this was a question you had expected to get since the very first day of the semester, you didn’t expect it right now. However, you didn’t even have anything to hide from him, so you nodded, a genuine smile painted on your lips.

“Is it me?” He tried with a similarly wide smile, though he seemed reluctant. There was no turning back from here now, you knew it, and with each passing second, he just became more and more agitated, but before he could confuse your first love confession nervousness for trying-to-decide-how-to-reject-him kind of contemplation, you confessed with all the enthusiasm in the world:

“Yeah, I like you!”

And it was true. Though you used to have a crush on Taesan, if you could get over him so easily, it meant that it was just a fleeting thought rather than a real, deep-rooted crush. Instead, you were most definitely falling for this funny, silly guy who was always there for you with his banana milk and motivating (or teasing) words, and there was no denying this time that it was real.

“Ah, I’m so relieved,” he huffed with a grin, and reached out to ruffle your hair. “I like you, too, Y/N!” He said, and fireworks exploded in your heart at his words, at the way his lips curled into a gentle, never seen before smile, the kind that – it seemed like – came with confessions like this.

Now, you were more sure than ever that you were in love, and all the love songs were right about this feeling because it was all flushed faces, racing hearts and feeling out of breath for all the right reasons.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think! 😊

Click here for my ZB1 masterlist!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for ZB1 or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here. 🥰

Header taken from the 'Good So Bad' MV, story title taken from 'Doctor Doctor'.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[wintersoulwitch]

Stage/Fright report

Spoilers spoilers spoilers

Here are my observations and impressions and as many details as I can remember after my first viewing of Stage/Fright. All written up while waiting for my train home, so pardon any inconsistent grammar etc etc

Right holy shit that was so For The Fans it’s not even funny - yet also entertaining enough for people who had never watched the show which is a hard balance to pull off (but if anyone can rise to a challenge like that, it’s Pembersmith)

First of all I was so chuffed that they started with material from the ‘theatre audience’ unfilmed episode (whoo, one of my predictions!) And the fact that it was Hamlet - nice TLOG nod.

Reece and Steve both looked amazing in this first section. Reece didn’t have a wig and was in an unfussy shirt/jumper/blazer combo. I was in the front row so I was taking the opportunity to soak it up.

And Steve looked great as well! Like, I personally think Steve’s best IN9 looks are Sphinx & Trolley Problem so what I’m saying is: Silver Fox. And in this section he has a thick white wig and a blue jacket that sets off his colouring very nicely indeed.

The story was great - some classic Pembersmith comedy dialogue with malapropisms (“I don’t want him to have a prophylactic shock”) and the whole Reece-as-uptight-Englishman-growing-increasingly-irate-at-ill-mannered-people-around-him

(Also, descriptions of the two actors on stage: “One of them’s rather pudgy, like Uncle Gerald. The other one looks like a homosexual” 🤔)

Steve was so funny as a loud, boorish businessman talking on the phone, texting and using his laptop during the play. There was a nice visual gag where Steve was using speech-to-text and the text messages were projected on a mesh at the front of the stage, but everything was mangled eg “Hope that’s OK” being rendered as “Ho that’s so gay.”

And then - murder!

Reece goes on a little murder spree - poisoning an old man with peanuts (his deathly allergy having already been seeded), pouring water over Steve’s laptop charger so he’s electrocuted, and smashing a noisy woman round the head with a metal canteen.

The sketch ends with Reece saying “Ladies and gentlemen may I remind you you’re in a theatre - no coughing, no eating and no mobile phones.”

Omg the violinists! There were live violinists playing an extended version of the IN9 theme song - each standing in a box either side of the stage. They were dramatically lit so that they cast long shadows which melded with shadows and dust projected onto the stage curtain.

After that, Reece and Steve came to the front of the stage as themselves and welcomed us to the show with some banter

Reece: The beautiful Wyndham’s Theatre which we believe is haunted

Steve: Well - YOU believe it’s haunted. I think it’s bollocks.

Ok so we set up the tension of Team Believer vs Team Skeptic. Reece explains that the scene we’ve just watched was a true story. During a production of Hamlet the theatregoer Mr Dowling had been taken over by ‘a strange presence.’

Steve: He then ran into the grand circle and tried to toss himself off. Another thing which is forbidden by the theatre management

(Ushers hold up “no masturbating” signs)

Steve says that grief can do funny things to the brain and make you see things that aren’t there…

Reece talks about ‘la Terreur de l’asile’ Terror at the Asylum. The lead actress was accidentally killed on stage, and her ghost - Bloody Belle - haunts the stage and so Wyndham’s is a cursed theatre, where terrible people things happen.

Steve: And anyone who saw Kenneth Branagh’s King Lear here a couple of years ago will know exactly what we mean.

They introduce ‘the ghost light’ - which you keep on stage when the theatre is empty. Either to appease the spirits or to keep them away.

Steve suggests that maybe Mr Dowling saw his late wife’s ghost on stage instead of Hamlet’s father. “For what is a ghost but a memory? A way of keeping a loved one’s memory alive? Maybe every ghost story is really just a love story.”

Reece then tries to sneak off stage for a costume change, Steve was supposed to have ‘written something funny’ to cover it and not draw attention to him leaving.

Steve vamps for a bit and gets the audience to chant “Bloody Belle” three times to summon her to prove that the superstition is bollocks. He then says that seat F9 in the stalls is haunted and a spotlight appears (poor member of the public in that seat, ha)

I thought BCDR would be referenced and I actually rewatched it the night before the show so that it was fresh in my memory. Well. What I didn’t expect was that they would PERFORM THE WHOLE FREAKING EPISODE LIVE IN FRONT OF ME. WTF LADS.

As soon as the opening music started I recognised it instantly and was like “Ohhhh!” I thought we would get a short scene but it just kept going!

It was an interesting experience to see the episode played out live - the whole communal thing, the way jokes are funnier in a crowd. Normally I watch IN9 on my laptop sitting on my bed all by myself so it was nice to share it!

I won’t go over the whole thing beat by beat. But some things I noticed…

- The cups! They had the blue and yellow cups!

- When Len makes the tea I don’t think he put whiskey in his cup, he drank from a hip flask and Tommy didn’t see

- Len’s mime bit with his arm in the coat was more developed. Early on Len holds up his hand and points to a (n imaginary) wedding ring. The fake figure is much more aggressive with Len, grabbing his face for a snog

- I noticed the mime arm was wearing a big sparkly ring, which reappears later in the show

- The “Drake and Shelby” / “Shelby and Drake” bit goes on longer, which definitely made it funnier.

- When Len did the spit take at the end of the vent sketch I was really worried that I was going to get sprayed. (I did not get sprayed)

- Joe Pasquale ‘he’s 63!’

- The wall for Brown Bottles has ‘Thatcher Out!’ graffiti’d on it

- The Brown Bottles music is different from the one in the TV show - it’s the traditional 10 brown bottles song rather than the similar-but-distinct version, which I’m assuming was some sort of rights issue?

- They didn’t reinstate the cut dialogue (i’ve always loved you…)

- Bernie Clifton’s dressing room is retconned to have taken place at the Wyndham’s rather than the Glasgow Pavilion

- Omg the ‘you nearly died Len’ was absolutely heartstopping, and the way Reece delivered Tommy’s rant was quite different but so passionate

- When Tommy’s talking about Angry Tomato and says he has 100 people working under him, Len says ‘doesn’t that tickle?’ And fucking gooses him! Like full on slap on the arse.

- They had the same Cheese and Crackers playbill and flyer as in the episode.

- On the back of the order of service for Len’s funeral there’s the photo from Steve’s graduation from Bretton Hall.

Then there was a play-within-a-play moment, with ‘Len’ and ‘Tommy’ acting out a sketch about kidnappers that Len had written… but when it started some familiar music played… Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerti No. 2? It’s A Quiet Night In! (Except I have watched Dead Line way more times than A Quiet Night In, so my brain was adding in the distortion and ghosts)

Tommy reads out the stage directions, which are projected onto the curtain as the set is changed, and we get a sketch that is… A Quiet Night In, the Cheese and Crackers version! Ish. So we have Steve-as-Len-as-Eddie and Reece-as-Tommy-as-Ray, in the black burglar outfits.

So cool to see more of Cheese and Crackers in action! Maybe this is the kind of thing that they had in their TV series? It was really interesting to see Tommy get to be a comedic force in his own right, delivering jokes rather than just setting them up for Len as the straight man. Len did much more clowning (and was definitely sliding into Barry Baggs - to the point where I wondered if we were going to get a Lisgoe-belt-whipping moment)

They brought on their kidnap victim… someone in a paisley dressing gown and a pillowcase on his head. And they were doing charades for the person’s name… Cave-in… Held on… Kevin… wait, what? The Actor Kevin Eldon!!!! My hands flew to my mouth and I let out a scream I was SO delighted. And even more delighted that Steve continuously referred to him as The Actor Kevin Eldon (as is only right and proper! And namedropped Fist of Fun. Only thing that would have made the cook’d and bomb’d forum of my soul happier would have been a reference to a weak lemon drink.) And then I realised that another of my predictions had come true - the kidnap victim is played by a different celebrity each show. Surely a Mark Gatiss appearance is on the cards???

There were references to other episodes scattered throughout… there was a hare statue at the side of the stage, the wardrobe from Sardines, which contained a single black man’s shoe (Diddle Diddle Dumpling), a bit with the number 6 turning upside down to show a number 9 (Once Removed), the use of cockney rhyming slang (Mother’s Ruin), and the house itself is on Mulberry Close.

Something that stood out to me was the different tone of the ending. When Miranda Hennessy came in I didn’t realise she was meant to be Leanne - she seemed like a stranger to Tommy. And the hug at the end was more distant than the hug between Sian and Reece in the ep. You know - the way Tommy holds back at first and then closes his eyes and leans into the hug, and you get this sense of the connection between them? At the end of the ep I felt like Leanne and Tommy might stay in touch and (re)build a relationship, but this time I felt like Tommy was gonna disappear back to France and never look back.

Then instead of ending on Tears of Laughter it goes spoOoOoky, with the lights cutting out and the ghost light appearing on stage, some eerie crackling noises and Tommy looking into the dark calling “Len?”

Then there was a jumpscare and time for the interval.

I stood in a ridiculously slow moving queue and talked to/eavesdropped on conversations - some people were hardcore fans and some had been brought along by partners (“I’ve only watched two episodes of Inside Number 9 and they were both very scary, so I wasn’t expecting it to be so funny” and “I’ve never watched it, I don’t like the League of Gentlemen but my boyfriend does”). Limmy was in the audience tonight and I think I spotted Helen Zaltzmann as well.

The violinists were back for the start of the second half. This time there was a projection of an imposing pair of gates and a 1920s style black and white horror film titles of ‘La Terreur de l’asile / Terror at the Asylum.

Ok so this is the story that Reece and Steve mentioned at the top of the show! Miranda Hennessy and Anna Francolini are a prospective patient (Suzette) and a nurse at Dr Goudron’s asylum. Suzette is dressed in a flapper-ish style with bobbed hair and carries a large green hatbox. She’s wearing the large sparkly ring that the mime was wearing in BCDR.

The nurse has that vintage creepy nun-style nurse uniform with a big white headdress, and strangely pink skin all around her eyes and cheeks. The set has a barber’s chair covered in a sheet (which twitched as if to suggest someone was already sitting in it), there was a bloody saw on the wall and shelves with jars containing various fluids and lumps (Love is a Stranger ref?)

Reece comes on playing a mad scientist type, with a mallen streak and a twirly moustache. He was obviously revelling in it, doing some scenery chewing with lines like “What’s to be gained if they won’t stay awake while I operate on them?” and “I ate them! I ate them up! He sees inside me! He sees everything inside me!”

Reece also performed some of The Elements Song! So random but I loved it.

Turns out that Reece’s character Hugo is an inmate at the asylum, not Dr Goudron at all! The real Dr Goudron - Steve in a white lab coat, coiffed brown wig, and painted on eyebags - appears and Hugo is taken away.

Steve does a turn as a slimy, predatory doctor (Trolley Problem and indeed Sphinx echoes) and recommends trepanation to fix the young woman’s migraines.

Steve: With my methods you won’t feel a thing…

He reveals a bit more detail about his wife’s Unfortunate Demise. (“Her head was never found…” dramatic spotlight on the hatbox)

Then Reece returns, this time being pushed in an old-fashioned wheelchair. Dr Goudron explains that he conducts anaesthesia free surgery through deep hypnosis. He hypnotises Hugo (“I have complete control over his mind and body”), and states that while he’s in the trance he can feel no pain. He demonstrates this by taking a scalpel and slicing Hugo’s face, making it bleed (like Devil of Winter- no, wait, that’s not Inside No 9)

Goudron then asks the nurse to fetch the bonesaw, and asks Hugo to amputate his own left leg below the knee. We’re then treated to the sight of Reece hacking through his own leg and removing it. (I could see his real leg within the chair but it I imagine the illusion looked quite convincing for people further back). He’s then brought out of the trance and we get some patented Reece-in-agonising-pain screams and he’s wheeled away to have the wound cauterised.

Suzette tries to leave and Evil Steve is unleashed.

Suzette: If i could just change back into my clothes…

Steve: No. I’m afraid that won’t be possible.

Suzette: You ravaged her???

Steve: Well as much as one can ever ravage a creature in such a catatonic state… As you will soon find out my dear, after your own surgery has been completed

Things begin to escalate, Dr Goudron reveals he murdered his wife after she caught him ‘in a compromising position’ with a catatonic inmate. Suzette threatens to douse her own face in acid, instead throwing it at the nurse’s face. There’s some nicely gory sfx makeup as half the nurse’s face melts and her eyeball sticks to her hand and comes away, still attached to the optic nerve.

But then! Gaby French appears in an usher’s uniform bearing a coffee order.

Turns out everything we’ve just seen is a rehearsal for a stage play - a performance of Terror at the Asylum to be held at the Wyndham’s. Reece’s character is Markus the Director who berates Gaby’s character Abbie from Front of House for destroying all the tension they’ve built up.

Turns out that the lead is a pop star, Sherry. Steve’s character is Vince, the leading man and a classically trained actor (who likes to do the Guardian Cryptic - Sphinx). He’s frustrated that a leading role in the West End has gone to Sherry, “some bimbo from a girl band”

Reece: It’s not about your CV any more, it’s about how many followers you have on Instagram

Sherry and Abbie have a chat. Sherry has an upcoming audition for series 2 of ‘that Divine Comedy Thing on Amazon’ and if she gets it she’ll have some good scenes with Tim Key (Simon Says/Plodding On).

Abbie reveals that she doesn’t get many auditions - Sherry thinks that’s weird cos she gets “loads” and she’s “not even an actress! Haha!” Some of R&S’s feelings about stunt casting coming through, hmm? Sherry recommends Abbie asks Markus if she can understudy her.

Markus goes through his notes for the actors. There’s some funny bits about bad acting and method acting and fragile egos (Markus’ notes to himself are simply ‘two ticks.’)

The stage is then deconstructed, the naturalistic doctor’s office breaking into modular units and a huge LED screen lifting up. One of the actors comes on with a Steadicam. We’ve gone from early 20th century horror to the cutting edge of digital tech.

Reece: We illuminate the present as well as the past

Steve: But it’s so hackneyed now, you can’t walk down Shaftesbury Avenue without bumping into some cunt with a camcorder filming actors mincing out of the stage door

The steadicam gives a closeup of Sherry, her face is shown in greyscale on the huge screen. They’re going to rehearse the trepanning scene. Everyone acts even more expressionistically and hammy than before with maniacal devilish laughter etc etc. Eventually Markus halts the proceedings and says they need “a gear shift.”

Markus: Let’s make them wonder if Sherry herself has died!

Sherry lies motionless in the chair… is she dead? There’s a long pause… no she was just practicing her dead face.

Then Steve starts talking in his own voice (not the plummy accent he uses for Vince) about Daniel Day Lewis playing Hamlet and walking off stage because he thought he saw his (dead) father on the stage. And then he gives Reece a long, lingering hug, and walks off stage. There’s a moment… huh, what was that about?… and then we’re back in the fiction of the play.

Abbie tells the ensemble about the legend of Bloody Belle - she was playing the role of Suzette 100 years ago and died on this very stage. The prop drill malfunctioned and a six inch spike was drive into her brain. At this point Abbie is standing in the stalls, leaning on the stage, with the camera pointed at her. The scene is bathed in red now, and some of the faces of people in the front row can be seen (including mine during this performance, whoo)

The theatre is now haunted and if someone sees the ghost they become possessed and someone in the company dies. Sherry is appalled that no one warned her about this and storms off.

(Also the offstage tech is called Kevin - I’m guessing this changes with the name of the celebrity guest?)

Later, Sherry is backstage practicing her audition lines for Ninth Circle. Abbie comes to help her with the self tape. The big screen is used again, this time displaying the view through Abby’s camera. Sherry goes through her lines and suddenly there’s A SHAPE AND MOVEMENT in the background. Abbie freaks out and goes to investigate. They rewind the tape to see if they can spot anything. The sound design during this section is lovely and atmospheric, and reminiscent of Dead Line’s musique concrète chorus of electrical hums and sinister drones.

Abbie disappears and Sherry picks up the camera and goes offstage, down the stairs and into the bowels of the theatre. This whole bit is very Dead Line, with human-like shadows/ghostly apparitions, a POV camera with heavy breathing, and a wander through a server room with metal fences etc etc. I was half expecting Steve to scream “jumpscare!” while wearing a rubber mask. That doesn’t happen - but Sherry finds The Hat Box from earlier. It’s illuminated in a spotlight. She opens the box and inside is… the hare!

Suddenly a severed head is dropped from the rafters and lands on stage. Sherry returns, finds the head, and says “Fuck this shit! I’m not putting up with this!” The tension and the spooky atmosphere continues as Sherry protests that she’s not afraid. But suddenly… here comes Bloody Belle!

Markus’ voice comes over the PA “Well done. Great performance. No notes.”

Bloody Belle is revealed to be Abbie. Markus had cooked up a plan to scare Sherry away and force her to quit the play. Abbie says that Markus is “getting off on this,” he says yeah, this is real drama. And it’s “scarier than the actual play.” Abbie asks why doesn’t he “just stage this”?

Reece: What - a Ghost Story with a pop star in the cast? That’ll never work!

Markus thinks the social media chatter about Sherry quitting the “haunted play” will guarantee a sellout show and an extension to the summer. And he plans to recast her with a “proper actress.” Anyone in mind? Yes… Sheridan Smith!

He offers Abbie the opportunity to understudy for Madame Goudron’s ghost. “A bit of skin work… Speaking of which…”

Oh no, he’s a sleazy predator too. Markus starts stroking Abbie’s arms and suggests she comes back to his place. Abbie snaps his neck and he dies. She looks up to the box and whispers ‘thank you.’ Bloody Belle appears and lets out a shriek!

The end!

The company come out to take their bows. There’s a standing ovation. But hang on. When Reece stood up… he’s not Reece anymore? It’s some other guy in the Markus wig and costume? Huh?

Steve says he wants to apologise for walking out of the scene earlier.

Steve: As you can imagine it’s been a very difficult few days and weeks for us as a company. And for me in particular. You probably know that I recently lost my writing partner - the cheese to my crackers. But also my best friend. We’d written this play together, me and Reece. And it said so much about our love of comedy, our love of ghosts and horror stories, and I suppose the difficulty of saying goodbye to someone. So I wanted to honour him with this production. Toby stepped in, who is Reece’s understudy-

(After scattered laughter throughout the speech, there was a big laugh here as any remaining pennies dropped.)

Steve praises Toby’s performance and reveals that sometimes he looked at Toby on stage and “I just saw Reece.”

Then they project Reece’s favourite photo of himself with the text “Reece Shearsmith 1969-2025” on the LED screen

(A missed opportunity to use Paddington Bear Man Dies.)

OK NOW it’s the end.

The cast leave the stage… but the mics are still on. We can hear Steve talking with some of the cast and crew. He says he’s going back on stage to get his mic pack off. The stage manager tells him not to because they’re moving the lighting rig.

“I just need some space, alright?!” cries Steve, heading back onto the stage as the curtain comes down.

Then there’s a crash and a smash! A scream and worried cries of “Steve!” An ambulance siren…

The curtain comes up, Steve is lying on the stage with a theatre light on the ground by his head. Reece appears, all dressed in white, holding two paper cups of coffee. (Two lattes from Planet Organic?) Steve wakes up.

Reece: Here he is! I got you a coffee. Just like old times, you lying on the floor, pretending to be dead. And now you are dead.

Steve:…Toby?

Reece: No, it’s not fucking Toby!

Steve is dead because he summoned Bloody Belle, and Reece fell through the trapdoor in rehearsals and broke his neck.

(And then i was like - is this why Reece hasn’t posted on BlueSky for a while?? Committing to the bit, will he keep it going for the whole run?)

Steve: I can’t believe the twist is that you were a ghost all along!

Reece: Pathetic. Finally ran out of ideas!

Steve wonders if he’s just had a bump on the head and is hallucinating seeing Reece because he missed him so much.

Reece: Maybe. Like you said - what is a ghost but a memory? Maybe every ghost story is really just a love story.

Now they’re going to spend eternity together haunting the Wyndham’s Theatre!

They have some classic bickering banter, Reece suggests that Jason Manford could play Steve’s part in Stage/Fright. Steve isn’t happy about this but Reece snaps back “at least he’s a name! Who’ve I got? Fucking little Toby!

And they have unfinished business… Bernie Clifton’s Dressing Room. Steve cut Tears of Laughter because he couldn’t perform it without Reece.

Reece: One last stop…

Steve: It’s not a bus is it???

And then… the boys leave the stage, some beautiful scenery with painted clouds come down from the rafters, a painted number 9, tinkly chimey music plays, the rest of the ensemble cast appear dressed in white satin and sparkles and maribou. It’s like a Golden Age of Hollywood song and dance number. Reece and Steve return dressed in matching white top hats and tails, and perform a fully choreographed big band version of Tears of Laughter, with new lyrics like:

“Come and dance with us on Cloud Nine”

The other actors leave, they say they’ll leave the ghost light on for Reece and Steve so they don’t get lonely (Til Death ref?), and then it’s just the two of them left to finish the song. For the final “laughter is my memory of YOU” they point at the audience instead of each other.

And that’s REALLY the end. You have been watching… a memorial service for Inside Number 9, and a celebration of the love between Reece and Steve transcending lifetimes and planes of existence. I wish them a very happy eternity together.

[lilacxquartz]

TO SAVE A BROKEN SOUL • suguru geto cursed spirit fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • mdni < previous chapter • next chapter >

summary: fighting with his own feelings and in an attempt to save face, suguru battles between letting you go or absorbing you into his collection.

warnings: disturbing thoughts, referenced non-con

Chapter 5: Concealment

An unwelcome visitor greeted Suguru right at his doorstep, seemingly a recent follower who was still new, barely settled into his growing found family. The man was still new to the ways of life here, but Suguru tended to accept sorcerers as they came, as long as they clearly understood his ideology.

Continuing to play into his relaxed and calm persona, he went ahead and gave the man the light of day. Given the slight look of disgust that the follower wore however, it was nightly likely that the man had likely seen something that he shouldn’t have.

Suguru couldn’t help it in that split second, his demeanour crumbling away at an instant.

He had to get rid of him before he talked.

At the verge of just barely maintaining his crumbling facade, he smiled at the man, telling him that he simply wanted to show him something special to really get him integrated into the family.

The guy, who he didn’t even know the name of yet properly, followed him with a sense of trust all the while Suguru’s face couldn’t help but darken. As he led him off into a lesser treaded area, he subtly channeled one of his curses, intending to silence the man before he had a chance to speak about something he shouldn’t.

Making up an excuse was easy enough for Suguru. The guy was new, came alone and didn’t quite know anybody too well just yet. He would cast him off as a traitor, when all he had done was quietly give a hint that he might have seen something he shouldn’t have.

Correct, Suguru didn’t even know if this guy knew.

(But a risk was a risk.)

It was only when he returned back to the canteen to reunite with Nanako that he realised that he hadn’t completely washed the blood of his hands just yet, but luckily, his daughters knew better than to ask questions about matters that didn’t concern them.

“Where’s your sister?” he asked Nanako, watching as she did something on her phone, wondering why Mimiko wasn’t with her. Those girls were always connected at each other's side like glue.

“Getting breakfast,” she casually replied, “they made pancakes today.”

“Pancakes, huh?” Suguru spoke, his gaze softening at long last. The air outside was cold, his wound still feeling sensitive from where you bit him. Luckily his robes covered the evidence, but the pain was still quite strong.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“And why aren’t you there, getting pancakes with her?” he asked in an endearing tone.

“I had something else, but I gave her my portion,” she said before lowering her hand, finally pulling the phone away from her face, “…when can we come home?”

Suguru tilted his head off to the side, understanding fully well why they both wanted to come back. It didn’t matter how comfortable the other house was; it didn’t feel right to be separated. This sort of thought only seemed to fuel his conflicting thoughts further, daring him to think about something that he didn’t even want to entertain.

“Soon,” he assured, albeit in an unconvincing tone. He smiled at her, walking her back to the dining area and sitting himself down next to Mimiko who looked a little too happy about all of those pancakes.

He pulled up a plate of something different and tried to distract himself, despite his mind still going crazy with ideas. He wondered if he should just utilise you like the rest of the spirits and maybe absorb you, because then you couldn’t stir trouble from just existing.

He didn’t want to release you back outside though, even though that had been on his mind too. There was something uncomfortable about the thought of you just freely roaming the forest, doing who knows what and where. Instead, he wanted to contain you—to keep you—to never let you go and yet he couldn’t do either, at least not in a way that worked in both of your favours.

Returning back to the thought prior, he however felt his stomach churn at the thought of exorcising you. He didn’t like that idea at all and could barely imagine it; the idea of not only killing you, but packing your soul into a compressed form and then swallowing the core of your very essence.

It disgusted him.

“I’ll be… back later,” he said, looking visibly troubled. Suguru tried to hide such feelings away from the watching eyes of everyone, ruffling the girls hair with a weak smile. “I’ll be back later and then I’ll do something nice with you tomorrow. I promise.”

The sisters nodded, full from their plates and watched him leave in silence as his mind continued to churn, as his instincts continued to pull and prod at him, challenging him, maybe even begging—daring him—to take you in, to possess you in the most brutal form.

Maybe absorption was the answer.

Oh, how he longed to have you in such a forbidden way.

In a way that challenged the grounds of your very existence.

In a way you couldn’t even begin to understand.

~~~

Yet, just as he committed himself to the very thought, his demeanour faltered from the very second he locked eyes with you. That’s when he found himself staring at something that resembled a human again and all of a sudden, he found himself feeling lost again.

Stopping himself from doing anything he was sure to regret, he balled his hands into fists that turned almost ached from such strained anger—how dare you look so afraid, so vulnerable—so much like somebody that he could possibly even love(?).

Not that much time had passed at all and yet it felt like something so painfully right.

Why did it have to be you though?

Someone who didn’t even reciprocate a single thing back? Someone who didn’t even cry after he hurt them? You were barely human and yet…

“Stop making this… more difficult than it has to be,” he gritted through his teeth, doing his best to avoid your gaze.

You however wanted to live too, though. That’s why you were reacting the way that you did. Regardless of whatever lifeform you were, self preservation and instinct would always attempt to override any sort of logic.

And just as he tried to talk himself into committing to the part yet again, he once again stopped. He wasn’t able to do it at all, unable to kill you because of a lust that swarmed over him like a disease; eating away at his mind as he lost himself in wanting you, craving you, in—

…Wait, what was he doing?

He pulled back slightly, casting his gaze over your confined form. Your front side was facing the wall with your clothes piling up to rest just above your hips again. His cock was hard, driven into your sex, realising that he was already right in the process of taking something from you yet again.

Suguru gritted his teeth as he bruised his hips against your ass, his skin slapping what was effectively stone as he succumbed to an almost otherworldly desire. He hated himself for doing this, for wanting to hurt you, for wanting to even kill you—but he also hated you all the same—for letting him go that far, this far, for not even trying to stop him.

Something wet dripped over your neck, droplets of something that smelled like salt rolling down your body. Tears? Hushed whispers could be heard as grunted cries soon followed—feverish growls escaping his lips as he wept into you—the malleable clay that he sought to ruin, that he longed to redesign now manifested as a deep sadness as he cried into your skin, painting you with his own regret.

Suguru finished into you yet another time, shuddering as he thrust another powerful rut yet again.

He melted against you, still crying into your neck.

If cursed spirits were a mirror to human negativity, then what could that have possibly made you with him and him with you…?

Pulling himself out with bloodshot red eyes still blurring his vision, he presented you with his other arm, pressing it against your lips and almost demanding that you feed on him—silently begging for you to punish him for having such thoughts—for almost doing the unthinkable, because what was he doing, when he sought to obliterate you from an existence you didn’t ask to be born into?

Suguru wept as you gave in again, shuddering as he let you suckle on his wounded flesh, like scarlet ink dampening an organic canvas, marble mixing with paper; two works of art from different mediums that collided against each other through divine will.

His blood continued to spill as you fed, staining the once white bed into vivid red, soon settling maroon.

Tears spilled from his eyes again without a single stop as his body quietly settled into yours, his demeanour seeming a little softer this time.

Suguru stared at you as you finished up and pulled his arm away from you, seeming kinder and almost even… broken.

Now all that was left was to figure out what to actually do, because nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

~~~

this is part 2 of lilac’s bite sized jjk yandere nightmares

[probablyasocialecologist]

In 1940s Britain, at a time before fast food and ready meals were staples of the British high street and in a country struggling to deal with the ramifications of war, a popular new restaurant chain was established. It served high-quality meals at reasonable prices, attracted customers from the full spectrum of British society, and grew at a rate of 10 new sites a week at its most popular. The brains behind the operation? The British government, led by the prime minister, Winston Churchill. Churchill’s British Restaurants, a chain of government-funded canteens offering nutritious price-capped meals, were intended to counter inflation in food and fuel prices related to the war, as well as to boost community spirit. At their peak, there were more British Restaurants across the UK than there are branches of McDonald’s or Wetherspoons today. Now a new report is calling for the return of a “national restaurant service” in some form, as a way to tackle contemporary issues such as health inequality, food insecurity and even climate change in the UK. A forthcoming report entitled Public diners: the idea whose time has come, by food policy NGO Nourish Scotland, marks the beginning of a campaign to introduce restaurants as a new piece of national infrastructure, a call backed by politicians and experts. A public diner, according to the report, is a state-subsidised eatery serving quality and ethically produced food at affordable prices. Crucially, says Nourish Scotland, they are neither charity nor a treat, but rather everyday eating places for entire communities to access.

[...]

Last year hospital data showed the number of patients in England and Wales being treated for nutritional deficiencies had tripled in a decade while a January 2024 survey by the Food Foundation found 20% of UK households with children reported experiencing food insecurity. And, Nourish Scotland says, ingredients could be sourced from organic farms, reducing unsustainable food production practices and food waste, and stimulating local economies. Public diners have already been realised elsewhere in the world. In Poland, government-funded “milk bars” (bar mleczny) gained popularity in the communist era as a way to serve traditional home-cooked food at low prices, and remain numerous today. Singapore’s “hawker centres”, market-style community dining rooms, emerged as part of the nation’s urban redevelopment following independence, and bring an array of street sellers under one roof to ensure vendors’ access to ingredients and space, as well as food hygiene standards and choice for consumers. The call for state-subsidised dining in the UK comes amid a growing international movement for public restaurants as key infrastructure.

31 August 2024

See also I Dream of Canteens, by Rebecca May Johnson

[lvnleah]

— America, baby! V

this is a little short five part series about Beth and Rory's time in America and the struggles that come with it as they're away from Viv :)

series masterlist can be found here

August 29th 2024

You loved media day last year but this year you absolutely hated it. You had only been back in England for a couple of days and you were so tired, Beth had told you it was something called Jet Lag but you didn’t really understand it. 

You were currently set up beside Beth on a bean bag with your iPad and a blanket while she took some pictures in her kit. You had your own little kit that you were currently wearing. 

“Roo, do you wanna come take a photo with Mummy?” Beth asked you, holding out her hand. 

You were feeling grumpy, the kind of grumpy that makes you want to curl up in a ball and not talk to anyone. You didn’t like feeling like this, but the tiredness made everything seem hard. It was like your brain was all foggy, and all you wanted was to be back home, snuggled under your favourite blanket with Beth and Viv.

You glanced up from your iPad when you heard Beth’s voice. She was smiling at you, her hand stretched out, waiting for you to take it. Normally, you would have jumped up right away to take a photo with her. You loved it when people said how cute you looked in your little Arsenal kit, just like your Mummy’s. But today, you just couldn’t find the energy to be excited.

“I don’t wanna,” you mumbled, pulling Twix closer to you. 

Beth didn’t get upset, though. She never did when you were like this. Instead, she knelt down beside you, her kit rustling as she moved. She brushed a strand of hair out of your face and nodded. 

“That’s okay, Roo,” she said, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to if you’re too tired. Mummy won’t be long, and then maybe we can get a snack?”

A snack did sound nice, but the idea of moving from your bean bag felt like too much work. You shook your head, staring down at your little football socks. They matched Beth’s exactly, but even that didn’t cheer you up like it usually did.

“I know it’s been a long few days,” she said softly. “Travelling all the way from America is a lot, even Mummy is tired! I’ll finish these photos then we’ll get a quick snack yeah?”

You nodded your head and Beth carried on with her media day duties. She took a few more photos, a little giggle escaping when you thought she looked funny. After a while, Beth was done taking photos and had a little break before she was due to do a video with Leah. 

“All done!” She announced, crouching down in front of you, “How about we go get a snack? I heard there’s cake in the canteen!”

“Cake?!” You gasped, quickly forgetting your tiredness as you stood up and threw your iPad down on the bean bag. “I wan’ cake!” 

Beth chuckled at your sudden burst of energy and stood up, holding out her hand once more. This time, you eagerly grabbed it, your little fingers wrapping around hers as you practically dragged her towards the door.

"Alright, alright!" Beth laughed, letting you lead the way. "We’ll go find that cake."

As you walked through the hallway, you started to feel a little better. The idea of cake had lifted your spirits. The tiredness was still there, but it was easier to push it aside when you were excited about something.

When you reached the canteen, you saw Leah sitting at a table with a cup of tea while Monkey sat with her eating her own portion of cake. Monkey’s leg was propped up on a chair with a cushion below it, she still had a big cast from her big ouchie that she’d got while in America. Leah looked up and smiled when she saw you enter the room, giving you a little wave.

“Hey, Roo! Did you hear about the cake?!” Leah gasped, “Better be careful Monkey doesn’t eat it all!”

You nodded enthusiastically, already scanning the room for the promised treat, “Yeah! Mummy says I can get cake because I was patient!”

Beth guided you over to the counter, and there it was—a delicious-looking chocolate cake with thick frosting. Your eyes went wide as you stared at it.

“Can we have some, Mummy? Please?” you asked, bouncing on your toes.

Beth smiled as she took two slices out of the cake container. You quickly pulled yourself up onto a chair once Beth had two slices of cake on a plate. The cake was soon placed in front of you, and you dug in with enthusiasm, a big smile spreading across your face munched away at the cake. 

“Is it good?” she asked, wiping a bit of chocolate frosting off your cheek.

“Mhm!” you mumbled around a mouthful, making both Beth and Leah laugh. 

You got carried away eating your cake in your own little world. Beth leaned against the chair, her tiredness catching up to her now that she knew you were happy. Leah noticed and nudged her with her elbow. "You okay?"

Beth nodded, "Yeah, just tired. It's been a lot, you know?"

Leah gave her a sympathetic smile. "I get it, I’m knackered. Toddlers and jet lag don’t go well, eh? But hey, you’re doing great. Roo’s happy, and that’s what matters, right?"

Beth smiled at that. "Yeah, that's what matters. I just can’t wait for Viv to be back. We’re both missing her a lot now, it was hard enough with her being in Manchester and only being together on the weekends but I think it’s been too long for Roo.”

“She’ll be so happy to see Viv when she's home,” Leah laughed, “Don’t think you’ll get a chance alone with Viv!”

Beth chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I don't stand a chance. Viv’s gonna have a little koala attached to her" she said with a laugh. "But I wouldn’t have it any other way."

As you finished the last of your cake, you looked up at Beth and Leah. Beth watched you with a smile as you devoured your cake. After you finished, Beth took your plate and handed you a napkin before helping you clean your hands.

“Feeling better, Roo?" She asked you as she wiped your face. 

You nodded enthusiastically, “Mhm! Cake makes everythingggg better.” You said dramatically. 

Beth nodded in agreement, laughing at your excitement, “Yeah it doesn’t, doesn’t it?”

After getting you all clean, Beth cleared up your plate before you made your way back to where the media bits were being done. The indoor pitch had been converted into what felt like a studio. Photoshoots were going on everywhere and videos were being filmed all around you.  

You noticed Vic, getting her photo taken, with her shirt back to front. “Vic looks funny!” You laughed as you pointed at Vic. 

“She does, doesn't she?” Beth agreed, your little hand wrapped around hers. 

As you and Beth watched Vic pose for her photo, you couldn't help but giggle louder. Vic noticed you pointing at her and grinned. She struck a silly pose, making you laugh even more.

"Hey, Roo!" Vic called out. "Do you like my new style? Think I should play like this?”

You shook your head, still giggling as you ran over to Vic. "You look silly, Vic! You're wearing your shirt wrong!"

Vic pretended to look down at her shirt in shock. "What? You mean this isn't how it's supposed to go? Oh no!" 

“Nooo!” You giggled, “It’s backwards! Up please?” You asked, holding your arms up to Vic. 

“Shall we get a photo?” Vic asked you as she hoisted you up onto her hip. 

You nodded eagerly as Vic held you close, the two of you grinning from ear to ear. The photographer, noticing the moment, quickly adjusted the camera to capture your playful interaction.

You took a few quick silly photos before going off with Beth to her next media duty, this time it was filming a video. Beth set you up with your iPad, a few snacks, a colouring book and Twix on a comfy bean bag. 

It kept you entertained for a bit but after a while, you grew bored. Your little legs carried you over to Beth who was doing a media video with Leah. You gently tugged on her hand. 

“You okay, Roo?” Beth asked you as she lifted you up onto her lap. “Mummy won’t be long, okay?”

“I’m so bored!” You sighed, resting your head on her chest, “I want to go home to Myle! I miss Mamma too. When she gonna be home?” You asked with a pout. 

“She’ll be home soon bubs, just a few more days,” Beth told you as she placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“But…but that’s so long!” You sighed, “How many days?”

“Four days,” 

“That’s too many!” You whined, “That’s like…forever!”

Lotte, who was standing nearby, overheard your whining and made her way over. “Hey Roo, I have a break now! If it’s okay with your Mummy, why don’t we make a countdown calendar?”

Your eyes lit up at Lotte's suggestion, the idea of making something sounded fun. You looked up at Beth hopefully, tugging on her shirt.

“Can I, Mummy? Please?”

Beth chuckled softly, smoothing down your hair. “Of course, Roo. That sounds like a great idea. Why don’t you make a countdown with Lotte so you can see exactly how many days are left, and it won’t feel like forever anymore.”

Lotte crouched down beside you, giving you a big smile. “Alright, we’ll need some paper and colours. What do you say, should we go find some supplies?”

You nodded eagerly, the grumpiness from earlier fading away as you got excited about your new project. Beth helped you down from her lap, and you rushed over to grab some paper and crayons.

“Got it!” you announced, holding up your supplies.

“Perfect,” Lotte said, taking your hand. “Let’s go sit in the canteen and get started.”

The two of you found an empty table and Lotte helped you tear out a few blank pages from your book. She handed you a crayon, and together, you started drawing squares—one for each day until Viv would be home.

“How many days again?” you asked, furrowing your brow as you carefully tried to count the squares.

“Four,” Lotte reminded you with a laugh. “One, two, three, four! We’ll make a square for each day, and you can cross them off every morning.”

You scribbled a big number “1” in the first square, feeling proud of yourself. “This is today!” you declared.

“That’s right,” Lotte said, drawing a little heart in one of the squares. “And when all the squares are crossed off, Mamma will be back!”

You kept scribbling in the squares, carefully numbering them while Lotte drew little decorations around the edges. The countdown was starting to look colourful, and you were excited to show Beth.

“I wanna make the last square special!” you said suddenly, grabbing a bright red crayon. “'Cause that’s when Mamma comes home!”

“Great idea!” Lotte nodded. “What do you want to draw?”

You thought for a moment, then started drawing a little stick figure family. “This is Mummy, and this is Mamma, and this is me!” you said, pointing to each one. “And Myle, too!” You added a tiny dog beside the figures.

Lotte grinned, impressed by your work. “That’s perfect, Roo! Viv is going to love it.”

Beth had been watching from a distance while filming the video with Leah, and when they finished, she came over to see what you and Lotte had been working on.

“What do we have here?” she asked, crouching down beside you.

You held up the countdown, beaming. “Look, Mummy! This is our calendar! When all the squares are gone, Mamma will be home!”

Beth’s face softened as she looked over your artwork, her smile growing as she spotted the little stick figure family. “You did such a good job, Roo. I love it. Mamma’s going to be so happy to see this!”

You bounced on your toes, filled with excitement. “I can’t wait for her to come home!”

Beth wrapped an arm around your shoulders and gave you a squeeze. “I know, bubs. It won’t be long now. We just have to be patient a little longer.”

Lotte stood up. “Well, I’d say we did a pretty good job here, huh?”

You nodded eagerly, “Yeah! Thank you, Lotts!” 

“No problem, Roo,” she said, ruffling your hair with a smile as you hugged her legs. “Anytime.”

As the day went on, you kept your new countdown calendar close, showing it off to anyone who’d stop long enough to listen. You were so proud of it, and the thought of crossing off another square tomorrow made the wait for Viv’s return just a little bit easier.

Soon, it was time for the last bit of media day, and you were starting to feel sleepy again. Beth noticed you rubbing your eyes and picked you up before settling you down on a beanbag. 

“How about a quick rest before we head home, Roo?” she suggested, brushing her fingers through your hair.

You nodded sleepily, clutching your calendar and Twix. Beth settled you down onto the bean bag and draped your favourite blanket over you. You snuggled into it, feeling the comforting weight of it and the familiar scent of home.

Beth sat beside you, her fingers still combing gently through your hair. “You did such a good job today, bubs. I’m so proud of you.”

You mumbled something incoherent, already half-asleep. Beth leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, her heart swelling with love for you. She knew how much you missed Viv, and she wished she could make the days pass faster for you.

As you drifted off, Beth stayed by your side, her hand resting lightly on your back. She watched as you slept, your little face peaceful and relaxed. Even with the long day, the travel, and the tiredness, you were still her brave little Roo, trying so hard to be patient.

Eventually, Leah came over, her voice soft so as not to wake you. “She out?”

Beth nodded, a tired smile on her face. “Yeah, finally. Poor thing’s exhausted.”

Leah glanced down at you, “You both are. Why don’t you get home and rest? I’ll tell Jonas she wasn’t feeling well.” 

Beth hesitated, glancing around the busy room. “You sure?”

“Positive,” Leah said with a firm nod. “Go home, get some sleep. Both of you.”

Beth sighed, feeling the exhaustion in her bones. “Thanks, Le.”

She carefully scooped you up into her arms, holding you close as you nuzzled into her shoulder. You barely stirred, your little body warm and heavy against hers. Beth grabbed your things and made her way out, murmuring a quick goodbye to everyone before heading to the car.

The drive home was quiet, you were still fast asleep in your car seat. When you finally reached home, Beth carried you inside, feeling a sense of relief wash over her as she stepped into the familiar space.

She took you straight to your room, gently laying you down on your bed and tucking you in with Twix beside you before hanging up the countdown beside your bed. You shifted slightly, mumbling something in your sleep, and Beth smiled as she watched you settle back down.

She leaned over, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Sleep tight, little Roo,” she whispered.

The next few days flew by. You woke up each morning with the first thing on your mind being the countdown. Every day, after you brushed your teeth and got dressed, you ran over to the calendar, grabbed a bright red marker, and crossed off another square with a proud grin. The anticipation of Viv’s return made you giddy with excitement.

Beth made sure to keep you busy over the next few days. She took you to the park, you went on a little shopping trip to get some snacks you knew Viv liked, and you even went to the cinema with Vic and Laura. But no matter what you did, you were always counting down the hours until Viv would be back.

Finally, the day of Viv’s return arrived. You woke up even earlier than usual, a ball of energy and excitement. You scrambled out of bed and dashed to your calendar, taking your time as you drew a big, careful “X” over the last square, the one you’d decorated with so much love.

“Mamma’s coming home today!” you yelled, your voice echoing through the house.

Beth poked her head around the door, her hair still wet from the shower. “She sure is, bubs,” she said, smiling at your excitement. “Are you ready to go pick her up from the airport?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” you chanted, jumping up and down on your bed. “I’m ready, Mummy!”

“Alright let’s slow down, let’s get you some breakfast first, then we’ll head out,” she said, just as excited as you were. She knew how much you’d been waiting for this moment.

You practically bounced through breakfast, too excited to sit still. You kept asking Beth every five minutes if it was time to go yet, your little legs swinging back and forth under the table as you picked at your cereal.

Finally, after what felt like forever, it was time to leave. You grabbed Twix and the little sign you’d made for Viv, the words “Welcome Home, Mamma!” written in your best handwriting with drawings of hearts and stars all around it.

The drive to the airport seemed to take ages, even though Beth kept reassuring you that it wouldn’t be long. When you finally arrived at the airport, your excitement reached a whole new level. You could barely stay still as you waited near the arrivals gate, your eyes scanning every person who walked through the doors, looking for that familiar face.

Then, there she was. Viv walked through the gate, pulling her suitcases behind her, and the moment you spotted her, you let out a loud squeal.

“MAMMA!”

Viv’s face lit up as she spotted you, and she dropped her suitcase to scoop you up into her arms. You clung to her, your arms tight around her neck as she spun you around, laughing.

“Hi, Roo!” she said, her voice full of happiness. “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Mamma!” you said, your words muffled as you buried your face in her shoulder. “I made a countdown calendar, and I waited and waited, and now you’re finally home!”

Viv kissed your cheek, her eyes misty as she held you close. “I’m so proud of you, Roo. You were such a brave girl being away for all that time!”

Beth joined the two of you, a warm smile on her face as she wrapped an arm around Viv and you. “Welcome home, love.”

Viv leaned in, giving Beth a kiss. “It’s good to be back.”

The three of you made your way to the car, you still holding onto Viv like a little koala. You couldn’t stop talking, telling her everything you’d done while she was away, about the cinema, the park, the countdown calendar.

When you finally got home, Viv barely had time to put down her bags before you were tugging her towards your room to show her the calendar you’d made.

“Look, Mamma!” you said, pointing at it proudly. “See? I crossed off all the days, and now you’re here!”

Viv crouched down beside you, looking at the calendar with a big smile. “It’s beautiful, Roo. I love it so much.”

You smiled, “I’m so happy you’re home, Mamma. Can we cuddle on the couch with Myle now?”

“Of course, klein meisje,” she said, scooping you up again and carrying you into the living room. You curled up on the couch, Viv on one side, Beth on the other, and Myle sprawled out across your legs.

You sighed happily, your head resting on Viv’s shoulder as you looked up at her with a sleepy smile. “Love you, Mamma.”

Viv kissed the top of your head, her heart full. “I love you too, Roo. So, so much.”

You glanced over at Beth, your eyelids growing heavy. “Love you, Mummy.”

Beth leaned over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Love you too, bubs.”

And as you drifted off to sleep, safe and warm between the two people you loved most in the world, you knew that no matter how long the wait, no matter how hard it was, having your family together again made it all worth it.

[lex-the-flex]

Infectious Defenses

Las Plagas! Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Summary: Trapped by Lord Saddler, the man believes he has the best weapon at his fingertips. Unbeknownst to him, nothing can break the alliance between two of the greatest D.S.O Agents.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, brief action and violence, descriptions of injuries, Las Plagas nearly takes control of Leon, mentions of brainwashing, the reader being a badass, and MEGA FLUFF!

A/N: I’M SO HYPED FOR THIS GAME!! And the new trailer made me loose my mind!! I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated!

The heavy rainfall made seeing the pathway to the cathedral nearly impossible in the dead of night. Hoisting Leon closer to you, there was no room to breathe, and your muscles started to ache from carrying his weight against your tired body.

Coughing more frequently, Leon tried his best to cover his mouth, but he couldn't. Letting his left arm dangle, the only thing he could do was trudge his feet along the gravel trail to the church's entrance.

"Come on, Leon. It's just a little further." You shouted against the rain, hoping he'd hear you.

"I'm trying, Y/N..." Leon mumbled in between another coughing fit.

Reaching the cathedral's front steps, you pushed the door open with your hip, hoping the barrel of your submachine gun tied to your back would provide a little help. With the large wooden doors swinging open, the force alone made you and Leon fall to the floor.

Breaking your fall, Leon held you in his muscular arms, not wanting you to collide with the stone flooring. Heaving past your shoulder, Leon gasped for a rush of cold air, begging for anything to enter his collapsing lungs.

Even when he's dying, Leon is ever the gentleman.

Moving to your knees, you carefully held a hand on Leon's chest, hoping to keep him still. Grabbing your wrist, the young man wheezed for any kind of saving grace. Taking a few herbs from your hip pouch, you held the medicinal mixture to Leon's chapped lips, he swallowed the remedy with a few sips of water out of a spare canteen from Luis.

Laying back, Leon slowly released his grip on your wrist, the agent's breathing returned to normal. Focusing on continuing the flow from in through his nose and out the mouth, Leon balances on his elbows.

"Y/N? You okay?" Leon asked and a crease formed in between his dark brows.

Motioning for your barely bleeding shoulder, a small quiet giggle escapes from your lips, and a quick smile fills the corners of Leon's dull pinkish lips.

"What?" He asks, returning to his normal self.

But before you can respond, an echo of vile laughter fills the cathedral's empty hall, and your face drops. Turning to the altar, Leon subconsciously clutched your arm in his hand as he rose from his spot on the ground.

"So the lambs decided to return to their Shepard after all. But don't worry, you'll soon become one of us, Mr. Kennedy. Then your partner shall fall in line right behind you." Lord Saddler explained as the two of you stood to your feet.

“You're wrong. I don't carry the same blood as you and your men." Leon said, pacing to the foot of the altar.

“Ah but you do, my boy. Once the egg hatches, you will see the true path.” Saddler snickered, waving his hand towards his infested staff.

"Leon, what's he talking about?" You ask, standing at his side.

"Ah, so you don't know, Ms. L/N. You were more than fortunate enough to escape my grasp. It'll be a miracle once you accept this wondrous gift!" Saddler projects, with a smirk lighting up his eerie face.

The Lord's spine-tingling eyes try to break your spirit, but you stand strong beside Leon. Unclipping your own modified handgun, you aim the barrel toward the sadistic leader.

"Nah ah ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you." Saddler mocks you, wagging his finger in your direction.

Your pointer finger barely begins to squeeze the trigger just as Leon begins to heavily wheeze. Reaching for the base of his neck, Leon descends to his knees, as if he can no longer stand up straight.

"Leon, are you alright? Here, take my hand." You instruct never letting go of your gun.

Rejecting your hand, Leon pushes you back causing you to stumble towards a pillar.

"Don't come near me, Y/N! I can't... I can't--" Leon replies, staggering in place.

Beneath his olive skin, a series of dark crimson veins begin to emerge on top of his own. Clasping his hands on his chest, Leon takes in a few uneven gasps out of desperation, hoping, praying for this to just be a bad dream.

"Ah yes, the time has come!" Saddler praises, praising the power before him.

Switching targets, you can't decide whether to aim at Saddler or Leon, you choose the latter. With a firm stance, you begin to march toward Saddler with your gun held high. But before you can reach the foot of the altar, the sight of Leon taking hold of your gun startles you.

Swiping the gun from your hands, the D.S.O. Agent tosses your piece of artillery across the room. Your hands start to shake uncontrollably as you try to cover the gasp that sneaks from your mouth. Gazing over the man who now stood before you, it was as if Leon became a different person in a matter of seconds.

"Exult all! And let it be so!!" Saddler shouts, witnessing the true marvel before him.

Sinking to the very mold of the pillar, your fingers grip the old stone, hoping the cold will soothe your sweaty palms. Watching the dark mass inch its way up Leon's neck, he faces the ceiling. Gritting his teeth together, a terrifying scream escapes Leon's lips, and it shakes you to your very core.

You've never heard Leon scream. Let alone in pain. This man was not your partner, friend, or the man who shared the same infatuation with.

This was not your Leon.

Making eye contact with your gun, you bolt towards it, ducking under Leon's attack. Switching the safety off, you aim the gun at Saddler and shoot. The bullet makes contact with Saddler's shoulder and he falls through a hidden trap door behind the waist-high flat table.

The moment Saddler disappears, Leon collapses to the ground, and the terror that once controlled him is gone. Rushing to his side, the crimson colored veins vanished.

"Leon?" You question, nudging his exposed skin with the butt of your gun.

Jerking awake, Leon held up his hand to see the sight of your gun aimed at him. Wiping his sweaty face, he looks around the cathedral.

"What happened?" He innocently asks, trying to process what had just occurred.

Just like that, it was like a dam opened, and a rush of tears flowed down your face. Standing before you, Leon takes your shoulders in his hands, and leans his forehead against yours.

"You, you lost control, Leon. It's like you... became a different person." You tried to explain through a series of sobs.

"But I didn't, Y/N. I won't let that virus take me. I'm here and I don't plan on going anywhere." Leon whispered to ease your sobs, taking you closer in his arms.

re taglist ~

@dreamliners

@iraot

@beautifuljellyfishqueen

@balach-cadalach

@murrdxcks

@fetaneecole

@odaschopsticks

@macabrecakes

@tiredsurvivoronmain

@thecodeisveronica

@andyacklesspn

@kanzukikarin

@cloudybakery

@swimninhoney

@ashiemochi

@kennedysharper

@highball66

@jinlintai

@onewinged-sephiroth

@scariusaquarius

@momma-vi

@cilantro24 

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff 

@thatdummy-girl

@acupnoodle

@slaughtrx

@rpd-rookie

@oreo-leon

@xxresi-rotxx

@ashrillvenheim 

@knifefightandchill

@tradgothprompto

@lottathoughts

@brittlecakes92

@mnjxs

@rebidemp-ebil

@chirikalovesjill

@paleepeaches

@dargoww

@blueyheart

@leonwifey 

@arzublogworld 

@ec1ips3

@blueyheart 

@ssbptigers 

@dreamingchocochan

@mothxmoons

@twentybibi 

[senka-mesecine]

thoughts on a fic of the reader drinking with Barnes and getting handsy? :0

Tennessee Whiskey.

Robert Barnes x Reader.

---

gif by the wonderful @woman-with-no-name

---

-"Coffee, Sergeant?"-

Holding a canteen by its metal handle, the heat of the tar black beverage twirls and dances straight into the precipice of your nostrils when you approach Barnes with an inquiry, nose pointing at the bottle of Jack in his hand, already halfway drained. He was downing spirit like it was water. -"To take off the edge from that?"- You clarify once he gives you a look to establish exactly what you meant; usually no valid sign of inebriation on him even after severe alcohol intake --- even his gaze was as focused as sharp as ever; two piercing needles in a frame of blue. Three empty bottles surround him like so many captured trophies. -"I ain' even drunk yet."- He teases, slightly smug, and you believed him. You believed that liquor was like a river under the bridge for Barnes; it just flows away somewhere, washing over him and through him, leaving him keen, alert old self where it would wreck anyone else.

-"I know."-

Like a good sport, you let him have his point because it was truthful.

No use in denying it.

Fact is, you were convinced if he was handed a rifle he could just about shoot a pigeon in the eye flying even in this state.

-"Pretty fascinating, three bottles of Jack in."-

You have to assess, allowing a slight bit of amusement, however well meaning, to slip past the perimeter of you mouth. -"I'd be tipsy after one bigger swig."- You joke setting down the coffee canteen; nobody asked you to make one and certainly not Barnes himself, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't do this simply because you wanted to. For him specifically. -"Your constitution's really something."- You add as a way of a tiny tease and the gaze he gives you is inexplicably matter-of-factly, like he wasn't even going to deny it, however wordlessly. That's how Tennessee men are like, you borderline imagine him saying in the most puffed up way conceivable. At least Bob was, that's for sure. -"Still. Here you go, in case you change your mind. It's black, piping hot and it's strong."- You gesture to the coffee next to him set down on closed ammo crate. No milk. No sugar. -"You drinkin'?"- He asks, seated down on a collection of sacks serving to barricade up the premises of the foxhole, his legs sprawled out on the bare ground. Yeah, you came here looking for him to this lonely part of the camp. You understood most people here at base would almost call you a fool for searching for Barnes when it wasn't even absolutely necessary, warning you that if you go looking for the devil, you're likely to find him too. -"No, sir, sorry. More leftover for you."- You go the route of diplomacy and political correctness. No drinking on the job for you. Not to mention, however tempting the idea, you weren't lying or being overly humble; you'd probably be knocked out after two major swigs. Didn't possess Barnes's uncanny ability to hold his liquor. -"Straight from the bottle ain' for everyone."- He cocks his head ragging you. -"Same goes for them metal canteens."- He adds with a drawl pointing his chin at the coffee you've left him with, not a single sign of slurring from his lips. -"946ml's gonna knock'ya straight into next Monday and then you'll be useful to no one 'round here and I can't stand slackers."- He prods staring straight at you standing over him and somehow, merely the thought of disappointing Barnes leaves you crestfallen. You loved him. It was why you were disguising your partiality to him with the act of serving a superior officer coffee as mere deference.

His eyes linger during a moment of silence like he knew.

Barnes always stared at you like he was privy to your deepest secrets anyway.

-"Ever drink from sumn's mouth?"-

Your breath hitches in your throat not unlike an unchewed morsel of food.

Wait? Did you hear that correctly!?

-"Sir?"-

You stammer out, nearly choking.

That's...not where you figured this conversation to go; At best, you hoped you'd be dismissed, at worst, you figured he'd tell you to scram and leave him alone.

Barnes says nothing, he only glares --- he didn't like to repeat himself.

So you decide to answer the inquiry you've more than heard.

-"No?"-

You manage, admittedly awkwardly, chuckling. What a notion.

Was that slang for something? Drinking from someone's mouth? No? No, it wasn't.

It was very literal.

-"Thinkin' 'bout givin' it a shot anytime soon?"-

He continues and you swear you spot the hint of a grin, the image of his parted lips, the liquor warmed up by the cavern of his mouth and his swirling tongue allowing your own to exchange the fluid unwittingly makes you fidget. Sure, you thought of Barnes in colorful terms before, to put it lightly. For a long time, in fact. Although, you always figured you were allowed your own private musings, hearing them vocalized this openly and plainly --- was almost like being smashed across the face with a bag of bricks. You feel the blood accumulating at the tip of your scalp, leaving you woozy yet seemingly firm because you had to be --- last thing you wanted was for him to see how affected you were.

You straighten and smoothen your uniform, trying to maintain composure, bidding yourself not to look at his chest. You don't even notice when his hand put down the bottle of whiskey and reached forward to grab you by your arms and pull you down next to him, holding you in place, firmly, in front of him, on your knees. On attention. He was touching you. He was actually touching you. Squeezing. -"Sir, you're inebriated and it isn't right. For your sake, I mean."- You try to stay sane and level headed even though you realized your voice came through in breathy gasps, taken aback to the degree you felt your heart pumping in your chest, causing you to be overtaken by a confounded mix of shock and need. You could practically smell the liquor on him along with the bitter taste of tobacco and malt; on anyone else the pungent, salty scent of sweat would've been disgusting, but on him? You feel lightheaded. Maybe you were simply being biased. -"Y'think I'm gonna regret and beat myself up for kissin' Miss Daisy Sunshine with a mouthful of Whiskey when I sober up and go mopin' 'bout it to sumn'? Like all these cocksuckers wouldn't kill to be me right about now?"- He assesses stiffly; wasn't the lulling sway of liquor speaking through him. It was outright no-nonsense bluntness. Barnes was determined and focused as only Barnes knew how to be; you lower your gaze from the ardent task of staring at his scarred mouth not daring to meet his eyes when he was this close to you, subjectively fearing you'd get incomprehensibly burned by something if you did. You feel yourself grow red. Miss Daisy Sunshine? You're on the verge of smiling. -"No."- You respond weakly, having no strength or willpower to be any louder or more resolved right about now. No, you didn't think he'd go around complaining, no.

Just the thought of Barnes thinking kissing you would be the envy of the whole camp has something coiling around in your gut.

Flattery.

He was flattering you.

You felt flattered.

It was exactly what he wanted you to feel, you understood.

It was intentional.

He was always intentional.

-"C'mere."-

He pulls you closer, leaning back against the wall of sacks, practically tugging and pulling at the forearm of your fatigues, one hand letting go of you to take a swig of his bottle again, scar-riddled lips puckered as he holds his mouthful there. Tentatively, you get close until your nose was practically touching the side of his face and the push along the back of your head by his arm is unexpected but not unwelcome as the floodgates of his mouth open around yours roughly and the searing Whiskey's gone past your teeth, sliding off of his tongue into you. You swallow, unwittingly, the suddenness of the contact sending the alcohol rushing down your throat before you can cough forth the burning sensation only to realize Barnes has kissed you with his eyes wide open, never even blinking, as on guard as a snake --- once he separates himself from you, he's as composed as ever. -"It's the right dosage for'ya."- He teases, fully unfettered while you were there, woozy, wiping the side of your cheek of stray droplets and saliva, coming to the conclusion you were still held in the vice grip of his arms. He really had you use his mouth as a cup to drink from. Your tongue's numb and burning, but it was more than worth it. Barnes takes another swig, pinning you down with his gaze cast your way across the brown glass of Jack Daniels he was lifting and you understood what that meant. It was the equivalent of another shot being poured for you.

The coffee's cooling on the ammo crate, forgotten.

You figure it'll be long since cooled by the time you were done.

[ghostking-nico-diangelo]

The battle ended for me, when I passed out. I woke up a few minutes later, Percy was bending over me, in his hand was a canteen. "Nico, what happened? Can you talk?" My mouth tasted like my favourite sweets. I nodded, I still felt pretty weak. He helped me to sit up, the grass around me died and the ground cracked at some spots. "Never tried to summon so many before. I-I'll be fine"

I blinked and then I focused on something, someone behind Percy. "Daedelus." I croaked. "Yes, my boy," he said "I made a very bad mistake. I came to correct it" He had a few scratches that were bleeding golden oil, but he looked better then the most demigods around me. Percy, Annabeth Daedelus and I talked for quite a bit. Percy got Daedelus' Hellhound Mrs O'leary. And Daedelus himself offered me to take his soul, as ranson for my sisters. But I refused "I will help you release your spirit. But Bianca has passed. She must stay where she is" "Well done, son of Hades. You are becoming wise"

I smirked a little. I held up my hand and said "Your time is long since come. Be released and rest"

Daedelus smiled while he became transparent and then turned to grey ash and disintergrated.

[moonbeamwritings]

adventures in braiding

wc: 1.6k

pairing: gyro x gn!reader (and i guess gyro x johnny x reader if you squint)

warnings: none

“It’s so hot out,” Gyro complains, wiping sweat from his brow. “Are you guys not hot?”

“It’s hot as hell, Gyro. Stop complaining,” Johnny chimes in, tugging his hat from his head and tucking it into his saddle bag. “You’re not the only one sweating your ass off.”

Gyro slows Valkyrie to a stop and groans. “I need to take a break.”

He bonelessly slides off his horse and as soon as his feet hit the sand, he takes a long swig from his canteen. You watch as sweat glistens on his brow, water tipping past his lips and sliding down his chin and along his neck. More than just the sun heats the surface of your cheeks, and you find yourself following a rivulet of water as it creeps down the column of his throat and beneath the collar of his shirt.

Seemingly dissatisfied with how the water cools him off, Gyro moves to duck under a nearby rock ledge for some shade, and judging by the way he grimaces, the rocks do little to shield him from the heat.

“We can’t stay long,” you warn him. “If we want to make it to the checkpoint by tomorrow afternoon, we’re gonna have to keep moving.”

Gyro waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just-” Gyro takes another huge gulp from his canteen and sighs. “Give me a minute.”

You watch as he pulls his hat from his head to fan his face, and annoyance washes over his features when it doesn’t immediately work to cool him down. Disgruntled, he tosses it onto the sand and then moves to pull at his hair, lifting it up and down to fan it over the back of his neck.

The movement gives you an idea. Digging through your saddle bag, you find a length of hot pink ribbon you’d taken from the last checkpoint. You don’t remember what compelled you to keep it, but you’re glad to have it now — if only to quell Gyro’s complaints.

You dismount, and join Gyro under his little rock awning. 

“I have an idea that might help. Do you mind if I try it?”

“God, I’d do anything.”

You crowd the space beside him and force him to turn away from you with firm hands on his shoulders, and when his back is to you, you set to work combing your fingers through his hair to ease some of the tangles. When you’re satisfied with how silky it is, you separate it into three sections. Delicately, you weave the hair together into a neat braid, and for the first time all afternoon, Gyro falls silent. As the braid comes to an end you pull the ribbon out to secure it in place, finally moving it over his shoulder and off the back of his neck. 

With his hair out of the way, Gyro lets out a long, pleased sigh as if you’ve just relieved him of a heavy burden. “What would I do without you?”

Emerging from the rocks with renewed spirits, Gyro bends to pick up his hat and straightens his back with a proud hand on his hip. Before mounting his horse again, he fixes his hat into place and fiddles with the ends of his hair, a smug smile tugging at his lips. Squinting in the sun, he asks, “How do I look?”

His cheek is sticky and warm beneath your palm when you move to pat it. You don’t miss the way he leans further into your touch. “You look very pretty, Gyro. Now, are you ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

“Finally,” Johnny groans from behind you, snapping Gyro out of his revelry.

“Do you have to complain about everything?”

“Me?”

The bickering doesn’t stop until well after the sun goes down.

You’ve created a monster.

In the days after, Gyro seems hellbent on incorporating the hairstyle into his daily routine. Every morning, after he’s washed up a little and brushed his teeth, Gyro drags the ribbon between his fingertips and fixes you with this sheepish, almost shy look, so unlike him you can’t help but laugh.

“You want me to fix your hair again?”

He presses the ribbon into your palm then, splaying his hair along his shoulders and dropping into a chair or onto the ground, waiting expectantly for you to braid his hair. And every time, you click your tongue and scoff good-naturedly, teasing him for being so high maintenance, even as you begin to comb your fingers through his pretty blond hair.

Sometimes in the afternoon when you stop to eat, he’ll ask you to tie it again. It needs to stay out of his face when he eats, you know. And you’re more than happy to oblige, setting your silverware aside to collect his hair in your hands. You’ll braid it, or tie it up in a ponytail, sometimes even twisting it into a low bun before digging into your food.

Johnny rolls his eyes more than once at the obvious (but apparently not so obvious to the two of you) display of affection, grumbling under his breath about you two needing to get a room already.

Gyro’s smile is smug when he tells Johnny, “You’re just jealous you don’t have a pretty thing like this playing with your hair.”

It’s a comment meant to get under the other man’s skin, and it does... every time, but you can’t help the way your cheeks light up with its implications. There’s a reason you’re so quick to fix Gyro’s hair, to do anything he asks really, and you suspect it has something to do with the handsome way Gyro smiles or the soft sparkle in his eyes when he’s pleased with the way his hair looks.

The air between you starts to change one night, now weeks after the first braiding incident. Weeks spent playing with Gyro’s hair or sitting close to him at meals or resting on his shoulder during downtime. Johnny had turned in an hour earlier, you and Gyro opting to stay up and savor the dwindling embers of the fire, enjoying the comfortable silence settling between you. The moon hangs high in the sky and a chill works its way through the air, cooling your overheated skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Gyro pick at the skin of his fingers.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His fingers stop, a sheepish smile overtaking his features. “I was just thinking...”

“About?” You press, nudging your shoulder into his.

“Well, I was wondering,” he scoffs like even the thought of the words leaving his mouth is silly, “if you could teach me how to braid. I always get so happy when you do it for me, and I just...” He fixes you with a soft gaze, his expression bathed in moonlight. “I want to return the favor.”

“I-” you can’t even get your words out without smiling, the tips of your ears growing warm as you think it over. “I would like that.”

“Well, you’re the expert.” He unties the ribbon from his own hair and gently holds it in the space between you. “Teach me your ways.”

Just as you had done all those weeks ago, and just as you instruct, Gyro crowds the space behind you; his long legs sitting on either side of your hips. You walk him through the process: separate the hair into three even sections, cross an outside section over the middle and let it sit, repeat it on the opposite side, and keep going until you reach the ends.

He mumbles the steps to himself over and over again as he goes, and you smile to yourself as you imagine his brow furrowed in concentration, lip jutted out into a pout as he thinks.

The braid isn’t perfect, not by any means, and by the time he’s done (after starting and restarting more than once), the fire has long since burnt out. The moon acts as the only light to guide him as he ties the ribbon around the ends of your hair.

“I- It’s done,” he pauses, running his fingers over the braid. “I think, anyway.”

You reach behind you to feel it, and find that it’s a little bumpy, a little imperfect, but you adore it all the same. He’d tried, and that’s what matters. The thought makes your heart feel fuzzy in your chest.

“I love it. Thank you.”

“You can’t even see it.” He argues, a pout on his lips.

You turn to look at him and cup his cheek. “I can just tell it’s beautiful, and besides,” you pinch the apple of it as you assure him, “practice makes perfect, right?”

You catch moonlight and adoration in the green hues of his eyes, and as silence falls between you, you find yourself twisting so you can lean closer. You’re just about there, your lips almost on his, when Johnny pipes in, sleep evident in his annoyed tone. “Are you done? Can you please go to bed now?”

With the moment entirely shattered, Gyro affectionately rolls his eyes and pecks your cheek, fingers running over the end of your braid before he moves to stand. “Goodnight, sweets.”

He smirks, and on his way back to his bed roll, kneels down to plant a wet smack against Johnny’s cheek. Tone dripping with a teasing singsong, he says,  “Goodnight Johnny.”

Johnny grumbles an “I hate you” as he rolls over and tucks himself further into his blanket.

These two, you think as you settle under your own blankets. That night, you fall asleep with a braid in your hair and a smile on your face.