#also would love to see them react to a two finger salute

[theshadowrealmitself]

Okay but handshakes are such a formal thing, you don’t really go out and do that on a day-to-day basis, you’re really only doing that when you’re introducing yourself in a formal situation, do Vulcans know that? Do they know that something they see as personal is seen as businesslike on earth?

Also, I want them to interact with more humans outside of Starfleet, mentally preparing themselves for handshakes, just to realize they are not actually that common

[trashmouth-padfoot]

The first time it happened, it was definitely a joke. It was a joke, so Steve tried not to take it too seriously. The next time it happened, though, Steve couldn’t ignore it.

The it in question was Eddie calling him a girl. The first time, Eddie was teasing Steve in front of his band mates. They were on the verge of dating, still too nervous to finally ask the question both want the other to ask.

Eddie was making jokes about ‘King Steve’ and Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, both of which Steve wasn’t really interested in, so when he went to make his leave, saying he needed to go pick Dustin up from the arcade (a truth, though Dustin didn’t want picked up for another hour.)

“And the princess makes her leave,” Eddie said, bowing. Steve couldn’t shake the way his stomach tickled with an unfamiliar feeling, or the way his heart skipped a beat. “I will see you later, my liege.” Steve let his eyes roll, unable to shake the smile.

“You too, Munson.” Eddie simply grinned and waved Steve off with a dorky salute. Steve smiled as he walked to his car, shaking his head.

That night, he stayed up for about an hour and a half trying to decide why he reacted in such a way. He wrongfully blamed it on being already upset over the previous teasing before going to bed.

A few weeks later, Steve had taken Eddie out on a date. They went and saw some movie Eddie had been talking about for weeks beforehand, and then they went to the mall and went for a bit of shopping, then they went to some open field that probably belonged to some old man and stargazed. Eddie thought it was awfully sappy, but Steve looked so excited and delighted by getting to do these things with Eddie that he didn’t complain once. He’d be willing to sit and stare at white dots if it meant he could steal glances as Steve’s pretty eyes, sparkling with reflections of constellations.

Finally, Steve drove them home. Well. Attempted to. His car broke down about two miles away from any form of housing. Steve, in short, panicked.

“You mean to tell me, you have no clue what goes on in your car?” Eddie asked with a disbelieving giggle.

“You turn the key and the car turns on Munson, I don’t care for the in between steps, oh god we’re going to be stranded forever.”

“Easy, princess, I’ll check it. Wanna be my light? Well, do you have a flashlight?” Steve tried to ignore his stomach at the pet name.

“Maybe in the trunk? From…yknow.” Eddie knew, and neither of them wanted to speak of it. They simply climbed out and opened the trunk, digging through stuff that definitely belonged to the kids before finding a functioning flashlight.

“Perfect. Now, just flash the light while I pop the hood, yeah?” Eddie guided, and Steve listened. Eddie tugged the hood open, and stared at the guts of the car. He leaned over, spinning the cap to something. Steve had no clue what Eddie was doing.

“You mean to tell me you have no idea what all this is?” Eddie asked as he used his fingers to tighten things.

“Why would I?” Eddie snorted, craning a brow.

“Oh I’m sorry, I forgot that pretty girls don’t do dirty work.” Steve flushed a bright red, unable to shake his nerves at that. He stared at the headlight of his car, biting his lip. “Steve, did you leave the light on in the car when we stargazed?”

“No?”

“You used it to find your lighter and I can’t remember if you turned it off.” Steve also couldn’t remember, and Eddie turned to Steve. “Love. Did you break the number one rule of owning a car.”

“Listen, Eds, I didn’t-”

“I can’t jump a battery without another car. Ugh, does your car have a phone?” Steve pursed his lips and shook his head. “Of course it doesn’t. Hm. We could walk?”

“Hell no.” Eddie snorted, craning a brow.

“Really? A little walking?”

“In the dark? Surrounded by woods? Fuck that.” Eddie smiled knowingly and simply nodded.

“Alright. Guess we’re staying in the car until someone drives by. I can sleep up front if you want to lay down. The princess has to get her beauty sleep.” Steve exhaled heavily, furrowing his brows. He realized, with a pang in his chest, he liked when Eddie called him a girl. He really liked it. Craved it now.

The two clambered back into the car, finding extra coats and blankets shoved in the depths of Steve’s trunk (Eddie was very concerned by his collection of items. Steve had to explain that he always chauffeured the kids to and from sleepovers, and they rarely remembered to take their shit out of his car.)

They sat in a soft silence for a moment, Steve unable to sleep.

“Eddie?” Steve finally mumbled, toying with the edge of some dumb dragon themed blanket that Mike definitely forgot in his car.

“Mnnn. Hm?”

“Were you sleeping?” Steve asked, turning his head to where Eddie’s rested. Eddie shook his head, rolling it to the side to admire Steve.

“Was about to, but it’s okay. What’s up, my liege?”

“God you’re a dork. Uhm…” Eddie smiled, eyes closing but still listening. “Why do you keep calling me a girl?” Eddie blinked his eyes open.

“I like the way it never fails to fluster you. You obviously like it.”

“Is it…weird to…want to be called a girl?” This caught Eddie’s full attention, the brunet’s eyes opening wide and fully fixating on Steve. “Like…not in a sexy way? But in a…normal way? God this is weird.” Steve dug the butts of his palms into his eyes. “Ignore me.”

“You mean like a transvestite?”

“Not like that! Like- well- I mean- a little- a little like that?” Eddie turned and tugged his leg up to be more comfortable, facing Steve fully. “I just…thinking about it, I don’t mind being called a boy…but…being a girl seems nice. I want…I want to feel pretty,” Steve finally mumbled, admitting a truth he hadn’t even told Robin, and Robin knows practically everything about him.

Eddie seemed to process this for a moment, twirling his hair.

“Do you still wanna be called Steve?” Steve thought on it for a moment before nodding. “Okay Stevie. What about- yknow- pronouns. Like do you want me to use the girl ones too?”

“This is weird- I’m weird.”

“You aren’t,” Eddie assured, shaking his head. “You’re normal. This is normal.” He flashed a smile. “You’re perfect, love.” Steve, still absolutely unfamiliar to affirmations and words of love, flushed and hid into the blanket.

“I think I like girl pronouns too,” Steve finally mumbled. Eddie reached back and caressed Steve’s arm comfortingly, stomach churning at the uneasiness and almost fear in Steve’s voice. Steve peaked out from under the blanket. “And that’s normal?”

“Absolutely.” Eddie reached and cupped Steve’s face. “And even if it wasn’t, the people who matter in your life wouldn’t think anything different of you.”

Steve knew that. Steve absolutely knew that. Robin wouldn’t care. The kids wouldn’t care, they’d definitely call him Mom more as a joke.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“So girl and boy pronouns. Anything else?” Steve stared at Eddie, overwhelmed with adoration for a moment. Of course Eddie was on board with it instantly. Eddie would never judge him. Eddie loved him. He loved Eddie. Eddie was perfect.

“I love you,” Steve whispered into Eddie’s palm. Eddie smiled wide.

“I love you too.”

[royal1asset-if]

How can we get the ROs to melt utterly and how would each RO react at being flustered and melted? (This is relationship stage MC for each of them!)

Why don't we ask them :)

(Luna)

Me: Luna, Luna, I got an ask(Hands the ask to Luna)

Luna: (Takes the paper and reads it, mouth moving, then she looked at me) NO!

Me: Luna C'mon do it for the people(I beg her)

Luna: NO( She turned around and leave me alone)

Me: Well two can play at that game(I started following her)

(Several of persistent name calling later)

Luna: Fine, I think one way to get my approval is beating me in combat and proving your worth to me, then I shall see if you are worth my time, HAPPY(She shouts and eyebrow twitching) and I will not react flustered or giddy like

Me: Well it's better than nothing(Leaving her and finding the other RO's)

(Elrick)

Me: Elrick, where are you buddy

Elrick: Right here Author(Sounding Drunk)

Me: Ouch, that RO award really hit you hard huh?(Pity)

Elrick: Yup, I think people don't like me!( He says and taking a swig)

Me: Well I got good news for you(snapping my fingers to remove his drunken state) I got an ask( Handing himthe ask paper)

Elrick: Finally!(Grapping the paper rudely) I can say that being playful and dangerously charming is one way for me to melt and for the fluster part, well you will have me stuttering and blsuhing(Grinning)

Me: It's good to see your happy Elrick and stay like that because I have another ask for you later(Saluting him and leaving him)

(Amelia)

Me: Hey Amelia I your very happy

Amelia: Sure am Author it's not everyday you found out that someone out there is cherishing you.

Me: Well if that's the case, I got an ask for ye(Handing her the paper)

Amelia: Really?(Handing her the paper) Oh my(blushing) Well I'm content with just walking side by side arms locked and having picnic(Many moments of rambling) And lastly I will be blushing a lot, a lot and I will be so very shy

Me: Well keep up that attitude then Amelia and I'm sure you will have a lot of suitors

(Dustin)

Me: Well how's my brave knight faring

Dustin: I'm alright Author considering knowing that I have a lot of suitors out there waiting for me, so I'm training to not let them down.

Me: I see well those suitors of your got an ask(Handinghimm the ask)

Dustin: Oh really?(Reading the ask)

Dustin: Well I'm really happy if they are thoughtful and just giving me what they can like cooking or having a picnic I'm a simple man really and occasionally sparring, as for my reaction let's see,, I will be quit and I will looked at you in awe and with infatuation.

Me: Thanks Dustin

(Serena)

Me: How you doing Serena( I noticed that cloth wrapped on her head)

Serena: Doing fine Author even though you bonk me in the head but I will not let that destroy my creativity( She goes back to writing something on her notebook)

Me: Sorry for that and let me guess poems?

Serena: Of course and those Readers prepare for my art and masterpieces( SHe says andwriting viciously once more on her notebook)

Me: Well I got an ask from your adoring fans(I say and waving the paper in the air)

Serena: Well let's not keep them waiting(Taking the paper from my hand)Ohhh well well someone's getting busy haha, well I really like the phrase "Action speaks louder than words" I find saying I love you lacking, thus I want to a demonstration and I'm more on the hands on approach as would you say especially late at night and better company, also I like a flirting competition it makes me feel alive, as for my reaction well you will see me eyeing you with hunger and blush no I don't do that I will repay it with affection also(She says and snapping her fingers)I got a new rhyme nice(Going back to writing poems)

Me: Well see yah later Serena

(Conrad)

Me: Hey Conrad I got an ask

Conrad: Well let's read it then(I found him to be enthusiastic than usual)

Conrad: Hmmm, I don't know how to answer this but based onmy experience dinner and walking in the park are what I prefer, for my reaction maybe I will blush a little I guess(He says and going back to his work)

Me: Hays, this guys is sure hard to crack, well that's all folks and have a good day :)

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[officialscaramouche]

Hi hi,, can I please request something where the reader is someone who’s known to be kind, eloquent and loved but who’s also married to scara? but no one ever expects or understands it because he’s known to be extremely unpleasant. i can imagine onlookers thinking the reader’s being threatened by him and trying to get them away from him thinking they’re just being nice ngl rip scaramouche. So how would he react and deal with this stuff?

Thank u for being so patient with me anon!! To make up for me taking forever with it, I wrote u a oneshot and I’ll also give headcanons about what he thinks and how he deals with it ♡

pairing: Scaramouche x gn!Reader

tw: none

wc: 706

You nervously flip your hands to usher the soldiers before you to raise from their formal bows. “Please,” you whimper, crouching down to the soldier directly at your feet. “There is no need to greet me so formally. Please stand.”

One by one their heads began to rise and their eyes glued to you to see what you had come here for. You were one of the Tsaritsa’s few trusted envoys. And the Tsaritsa had said before that if anything were to happen to her, she’d want you to take her place. That’s how much she not only trusted you, but also how much you were like her. Elegant, kind hearted, and selfless. These were the things that defined her. And now, also defines you.

“Where is your commander?” You ask, looking around. A few soldiers saluted at attention with the answer. “You,” you pointed to one of them.

The soldier visibly shook with nervousness. “The c-commander is in his tent, Ambassador!”

You smile and walk up to him, gesturing with your hands that he can stand at rest. You reach for his hands and hold them in your own and smile. “Thank you, brave soldier.” The agent’s face burned a bright red, his hands heating up in yours. You let go and turn back, walking towards the camp. “After I speak with your commander, I will be back to get to know all of you.”

The group of soldiers salute in attention with a loud, perfectly synced salute. “Hah!”

You run your hand along the woven fabric of the tent. It made a barely audible scratching sound, but nothing that the commander wouldn’t miss. “Who’s there?” He called out, putting his pen down and getting to his feet.

“It’s me,” you sing, your fingers pulling back the curtain door. “How have you been?”

A few soldiers gathered together around one of the campfires and played with the glowing charcoal with sticks. “You’re so lucky, bro.”

The agent in question stared down at his hands, the ones you held. “I’m never washing my hands again.”

“Do you think [Y/N] would have a partner?” The cincin mage pondered, trying to envision your hands and if you wore a ring.

“Well, I didn’t see a ring,” the agent said, squeezing his hands together.

The other soldier stretched his legs out. “I don’t think any of our superiors are in relationships. Maybe they can’t be?”

“Ohhh!” The cincin mage squealed. “What if they are in relationships but they have to hide it!”

The agent sighed loudly. “Nobody would be good enough for [Y/N] or the Tsaritsa. Maybe they should date each other!” He joked.

The gravel shifted behind them. “And what is the purpose of such an inappropriate conversation?”

All of the soldiers stumbled to their feet and stood at attention. “G-Greetings Commander!!” They all shouted at once.

“Oh, be nice Scaramouche.” You said as you followed behind, waving cutely to the group. “But you are right, Miss. Relationships are not allowed, but we do find a way.”

Scaramouche hissed. “Why are you telling them?!”

“What’s the harm in that!” You scowl, crossing your arms with a huff. “You act like I said we’re married.”

The cincin mage clapped her hands together and squeaked. “You two are married?!”

The men behind her dropped their shoulders with a defeated groan. You smile and nod, reaching for the cincin mage’s hands to squeeze. “Mhm! He proposed last week before you all set off on your assignment.”

“Awww that’s so cute!”

Scaramouche pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. When he looked up, everyone was casually standing around and grumbling. “At attention, soldiers!” He barked, pulling your hands away from the cincin mage. “And you,” he spat, pushing a finger into your chest. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to chastise you like one of his soldiers. “Go to my tent. I will give them the news, and then I’ll meet you there.”

You couldn’t help but ogle at his blushing, angry face. He was trying to be scary and tough in front of his men, but little did they know that he was as much of a softie as you were. “Sir, yes sir!” You chuckle.

HEADCANONS

Scara is a secretive man, so he actually kind of likes that people don’t often know you two are together. But it is very irritating to him when people hit on you and ask you out

He’s a very jealous man and sometimes he doesn’t act upon it but other times he does.

If he keeps quiet about it he’ll be grumpy for a short while. Sometimes you can get him to tell you why he’s upset, but not all the time. You tend to figure it out on your own though. “I’m fine,” he’ll say. “I just hate it when Viktor buys you lunch and gifts.”

If he acts on it, he’ll steal you away to have for himself. He’s greedy and stingy and he doesn’t want to share you, your time, or your attention. He’ll shower you in kisses and his touch, keeping you for himself. “Look at me, and only me. I belong to you, so please…”

But don’t get me wrong, he isn’t ashamed of you or anything. If he could he’d declare to the world that you were his. He’d make it known that he belonged to you. He likes to boast, and you’re one of the things in his life he’s proud of most.

The easiest way to reassure him that you’re not thinking about anyone else is to simply give him attention. But not just normal attention, attention that only he gets.

[imagine-that-haikyuu]

You Promised

Wow, I promised I’d post this a million years ago and never did, so I’m just going to post it now. Part of my Parent!AU/Haikyuu!! Next Gen or whatever we wanna call it. Kaori is probably my favorite of the kids because she’s so the opposite of her dad, but still very funny.

Also lol I love dealing with the inevitably of aging

- Admin Rachel Lauren

Ko-fi

~*~

“But Dad! You promised!”

You can hear your daughter whine from the other room. Currently, you’re waiting for her and Ushijima to finish cleaning up from dinner and join you in the living room to watch your favorite TV show together. The two enter the room almost immediately following her belly-aching, but not as you expected.

Ushijima Wakatoshi enters the living room giving his fourteen-year-old daughter--Kaori--a piggy-back ride. You blink in confusion at the sight. When she was much younger, she made her father her personal jungle gym. This led to many heartwarming moments between the two of them that you readily saved on your phone. Little did you expect him to be so compliant now that she’s a teenager, and a tall one at that. You know for a fact that she’s the one who jumped on his back (Ushijima would never provoke her like that); the pout on her lips make it seem like she did this in retaliation to something he may have said.

“Alright, Kaori, get down,” Ushijima says once they’re in front of you. She groans and jumps to the floor once he’s lowered safely enough for her to dismount.

“Did something happen?” you ask them. Ushijima takes his seat next to you on the couch while Kaori remains standing in the way of the TV.

Still pouting, she replies, “Dad promised last year that we’d go camping this time of year during my school break. Well, my break is coming up soon and now he says he won’t go!”

You turn to Ushijima. His expression remains flat. “I made no such promise.” Your daughter clicks her tongue in frustration. “Besides, it’s the same weekend as your mother’s and my fifteenth anniversary. I had plans to take her to an onsen then.”

“Really?” you ask brightly.

“Mom, please!” Kaori says. She clenches her fists. The desperation is apparent in her eyes as she turns to your husband. “Dad, when we were packing up last time, I asked you if you had a good time and you said you did. Then I asked you if we could do it again next year and you said you would. You’ve gotta remember!”

Her resolve even moves Ushijima enough to get him to blink in surprise. After they came home from camping that first time a year ago, you remember just how happy your daughter was. A part of you always wondered if it was her attempt to make up for lost time from her childhood, when he was still playing volleyball and didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time with her. Kaori was a Daddy’s Girl through-and-through. She worked hard as her school’s track star, just so she could tell him how well she did at all her meets. 

She’s your daughter and you want to see her happy. You want her to have the best relationship she can have with your husband, her father. Frankly, while you were flattered that Ushijima had arranged something special for this milestone anniversary, the two of you had been together much longer: you almost forgot it was your fifteenth. 

“Wakatoshi,” you say, “It’s okay. Take her camping that weekend. We can celebrate our anniversary another time or another way.”

“Are you positive?”

“Just look at her face.”

You motion your head towards Kaori, who has now relaxed from her on-guard stance. Her lip quivers and she lets out a sniffle. “Mom…”

Ushijima lets out a sigh. “It’s settled then.” She cheers and starts to throw her arms around the both of you but is stopped when her father continues. “On one condition: you will make our packing list and make sure we have all of the supplies we need.”

She blinks once and then stands in salute. “Roger that!” And with that she skips off to the garage.

“Wait, you’re not going to watch with us?” you call out.

“Not tonight! Gotta make sure we have everything! I’ll watch it tomorrow!” Just as you relax into your seat again and smile at her enthusiasm, you hear a loud crash from the direction she headed. Before you can act, she offers an “I’m okay!”

You settle back into your seat and let out a snort.

“I think she gets it from you,” you tease. Ushijima has had plenty of time to get used to your jokes. Even if it takes him a moment, he’ll react in some way, usually a laugh. Instead, he only offers you closed eyes and a roll of his neck as if he’s working out a crick. He did mention some neck pain earlier in the week. You scoot closer to him on the couch and work your fingers into the back of his neck. “Maybe the onsen would have been better.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He cranes his neck so you can get a different angle. “I always enjoy the time I get to spend with Kaori.”

Despite his pain, you catch a glimpse of the smile that spreads across his face. You can’t help but smile too when he does this.

“Alright then, just promise me you’ll get your neck looked at this week.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll tell you to spend some time at an onsen after you come home from camping to help loosen up whatever’s there. Then we’d have to go. Doctor’s orders.”

The kneading stops as soon as your show begins. You plant a kiss on the base of his neck and snuggle up next to him, another thing he’s gotten used to over the years. 

He considers himself a very lucky man, to have a wife and a daughter who love him so.

[mrstaeminlee]

Mission Complete Ch. 1

You had two goals in life. One: Complete your squad training without dying. Two: Fuck Levi Ackerman

Pairings: Levi/f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, eventual smut, lmk if I need to add anything~

You really had no idea what the fuck prompted you to join the military. Maybe it was to find some redeeming grace in the eyes of your dying mother, maybe it was because you wanted a life with as much stability as one could muster, maybe it was because you just fucking hated farming.

Whatever it was, you wished to any God that would listen that you would have buried it in the ground along with the countless friends and family members you had lost to the Titans.

The first week of the cadet corps was everything you knew you would hate and more. Between the foul smelling breath of the commandant threatening to make you puke up the bread you had managed to steal, to working your body to the point of sneaking away from one on one combat to puke behind the bushes, after seven days you had almost decided that maybe digging in the dirt for the rest of your miserable life wasn't so bad.

There was only one thing stopping you from making your own walk of shame to the wagon of regret.

Levi Ackerman.

AKA the man you fantasized about every night when you managed to find enough strength to finger yourself below the covers.

He was a couple of inches shorter, true, but you were willing to break your rule of not fucking anyone shorter than you for him.

You had only see him twice in your life by complete chance, the first had been when you happened to be by the gates in time to see the Scouts returning from what was undoubtably another failed mission, and you decided that what the hell, might as well have a look at Humanity's Strongest in the flesh. Granted, it hadn't been his best day; his green cloak was splattered with what could only have been the blood of his comrades as it didn't look as if he had a single scratch on him, but he looked like a god, albeit one that had just gotten his ass kicked out of heaven. His eyes seemed to be sunken in, and even from how far away you were you found yourself shivering from the intensity of his dead gaze. You weren't sure what possessed you to lift your hand as he eyes moved through the crowd, looking for whom, you didn't know, or what possessed him to raise those eyes to you, but you found yourself lost in haunted silver as you gave a soft wave. The way he seemed to look straight through you, not even seeing you even as you stared at each other, was enough to convince you that you needed to do whatever it took to see this man again.

You enlisted the start of the next week.

The second time was completely by chance.

Everyone was desperate for military recruits, and desperate times called for desperate calls to important people to make appearances in front of people that were well, not very important.

Erwin Smith, Dot Pixis, Nile Dawk, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Rico Brzenska, and even Darius Zackly graced the entrance ceremony of the new Cadets, and you thanked whatever bone in your body made you a teacher's pet because you had a front row seat to the man that had plagued your thoughts every single day in the past week. His appearance was brief and he didn't speak, just stared at the fresh faces, some cocky, some blank, but mostly terrified new recruits, and you could have sworn that you saw a tinge of sadness hidden in the silver, as if he could already foresee the deaths of everyone in front of him. He followed after Erwin immediately after the blond gave his speech about thanking you all for making the decision to serve humanity and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 'I'm not doing this for humanity, I'm doing this for dick,' you thought as you signed your life away to this shit camp for the next two years.

How one man who was fucking shorter than you managed to convince you to trade the next 728 days, 14 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds of your life for physical and emotional hell was beyond you, and yet here you were, standing proud and slightly hungover from the pre-graduation celebrating you did with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin the night before. They hadn't initially been your first choice in friends, but Armin was nice to you from the start and once you very quickly learned that flirting with Eren in front of Mikasa was not in your best interest, you had decided that they were alright; especially when Eren's Titan form had been revealed. If anyone was going to have to get close enough to keep an eye on Eren, it would be Captain Levi.

The very man you were thinking of walked on the stage along with Nile Dawk, Dot Pixis, and Erwin Smith as the three took turns giving their pitch. You hadn't made the top 10 but were happy for your friends that were, you were content with your place as 13th. In a class of over 500, you still considered it a win, and if your parents were still alive you knew they'd be proud. As the remaining members of the top 10 who had opted to join the elitest MP's went off to talk to Nile and the other scared fucks ran off to sign themselves to the Garrison regiment, you and around a hundred other members stayed where you were and you licked your lips, forcing your heart rate to calm itself. 'Calm down, you can't work your way up to fucking the strongest man in the world if you die of heart attack before-'

"Listen up you little shits."

Oh my God he was speaking you've never heard his voice before it's so fucking-

"Most of you are going to die. Are you prepared for that?"

Ah, so Humanity's Strongest was a sweet talker.

"Erwin is making me come up here and talk, so we're all going to pretend that I'm saying some meaningful bullshit. But here's the truth: If you aren't strong, you will die, and it will be painful. Imagine the thought of seeing your childhood friend's entrails being slurped up like spaghetti by a Titan, while the entire time he's conscious enough to reach his hand out for you, and you are able to do nothing for him because you spent exactly one second hesitating, or you were a moment too late to draw your blades, or react to the threat. If that scares you, then do us all a favor and put down that half assed salute and sell your soul to the Garrison where you'll spend your days fucking the best whores for a discount if you're in uniform and getting drunk on the clock."

After his touching speech you and your now dripping panties decided that you had indeed made the right decision in selling yourself to the Scouts.

One month later

It was moments like these, where you weren't quite trashed but definitely more than tipsy, that you had never been happier to be part of the survey corps. I mean, you were in peak physical shape (you still couldn't believe you had abs. Abs!), you were hot, you were fit, and you knew Sasha Braus, who had managed to steal a few bottles of top shelf liquor from the higher ups.

You were also horny as fuck. It had been over a year since you'd gotten laid, and you were using the dildo you'd bought on your first trip back into town as often as you brushed your teeth (twice a day, you didn't fuck with cavities). You briefly thought about enlisting the help of one of your current drinking buddies but after seeing your choices you decided to leave it to old faithful hidden in your pillowcase. There was Jean, who albeit was pretty hot even with the long face but was so in love with Mikasa it made you want to vomit. Marco, who you were almost one hundred percent sure was gay; Connie, who held the sexual appeal of a pile of horse shit, although he was super nice. Reiner almost looked promising but you knew underneath those stocky muscles was a shitload of emotional baggage you didn't want, and Bertholt was head over heels for Annie of all people. That left Armin and Eren. Eren you already knew was out, while your slut senses told you he'd be a great lay, you weren't quite ready for your life to end at the hands of Mikasa. That left Armin. You tilted your head, staring at him as you sipped on your god forsaken concoction and debated fucking him or not. He wasn't outright sexy, but he'd filled in well during the two years of training and you had seen glimpses of his surprisingly impressive muscles under his white shirt. He might actually do. He'd be shy as hell and you would have to lead everything, not to mention he'd probably cum in less than a minute, but it just might-

“Did you guys know that Captain Levi is a virgin?"

You spit the mix of vodka, rum, and whatever mixer Reiner had put in all over the face of the person you had just considered fucking.

"I'm sorry, what?" You turned your attention to Christa, apologetically handing Armin a napkin and patting his cheek.

Christa blushed at the attention and scooted closer to Ymir, who threw an arm around her shoulders and gave Reiner her customary 'If you even look at her weird, I will gut you' look. "W-Well, recently I started helping out in the infirmary because they've been short handed. You all know, it's that time of year where everyone has to get looked at and they give us that sheet of paper to fill out with all of our personal information to keep track of potential diseases. I was in charge of filing the paperwork the day they brought all of the officers in, and on the paper they ask you how many sexual partners you've had and Captain Levi wrote 0. But you guys, you have to promise not to tell anyone! This is private information, if it somehow gets out that I told you this I'll get into a lot of trouble!"

Ymir chuckled, placing a sloppy kiss at the top of the blonde's head. "Don't worry about a thing sweet cheeks, if any of these miscreants here says a word I'll kill them for ya. But we don't have to worry about that at all, now do we?" She glared at each person in the room, who all looked as if Christa were a ghost, and slowly shook their heads.

Your life was changed.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

The strongest man in the world.

Rumored former thug of the Underground.

The person responsible for killing as many Titans as a hundred soldiers.

The person whose squad every scout dreamed of being on, was a virgin.

You screeched out a laugh before you could help it, the alcohol doing nothing to try and make you quiet yourself as you fell onto your back laughing, cup long forgotten as it rolled across the floor. The person who initiated your drive to join the military in the first place, the person you literally dreamed of fucking, had never gotten his dick wet.

Clearly, you had your work cut out for you.

If you managed to live through the sight of Ymir reaching over to punch you in the face to shut you up.

[lydias--stiles]

Kiss prompt 19 Juke

KISS PROMPTS (closed)

19. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

(high school au)

In retrospect, the game ‘Seven Minutes In Heaven’ was a really bad idea. It could’ve really fucked them over had it not been the right time or place. It had been, thank God, but neither would risk it all again any time soon.

Julie was a mess. 

Carrie’s house parties were, as expected, completely out of control. The kitchen was filled to the brim with alcohol, music boomed from stereos that probably reached the other side of LA, drunkards jumped in the pool and drinking games were started on a whim. 

She’s avoided ‘Circle Of Death’, ‘Fuck The Dealer’, beer pong, flip cup, ‘Avalanche’ and whatever else existed. All she really wanted to do was dance and forget Luke had been flirting with Yasmine, a senior girl. 

God, she was such a cliché. Of course, she was in love with her best friend. It didn’t help he was a year older nor that it was uncommon for her to feel like a child. She knew that was stupid. They were completely on the same wavelength and were super close, but then she saw some of the girls he liked talking to… 

Yasmine was pretty and experienced and Julie was definitely not. Not in that way, at least. It wasn’t like she had a shot with Luke either, both strictly friends, but his interest in Yasmine didn’t help her self-esteem. 

In a moment of weakness, (a combination of too many White Claws, the buzz of dancing, the taste of teenage angst, the bitter fantasy of being with him) Flynn and Kayla managed to drag her to the den. It was slightly quieter here. A group of kids were sprawled over the many couches in a circle, Carrie standing in the middle like some warrior in glitter. 

Luke was there too. He saluted at her from the other side of the room as she sat down, amusement pulling on his lips.

“Alright,” Carrie declared. “Seven minutes in heaven! If you’re not into it, leave!”

A few left, Julie almost joining them in fright, when Flynn held her down. Her nails dug in her arm, a coy look crossing her hazy features.

“You either get over Luke, or you get with Luke.”

Julie shook her head. “No. This isn’t happening.”

“It is,” Kayla grinned. The girls high-fived each other. “You’re welcome.”

The game began. A suffering Julie watched on as Alex and Willie had no qualms pulling each other into the wall closet. They were lucky, basically already a couple with their very blatant flirting. She focused on talking to the girls or teasing the ones that were chosen, pointedly not looking in Luke’s direction. 

What if he saw it in her eyes? That she wanted him? She’d die of mortification. 

It was hard to not like Luke. He was the definition of effervescence. Every little thing he did had intention. Dialling his charm up to eleven, laughing harder than anyone else, encouraging her to chase all the dreams tucked in her dream-box with awed conviction. It was like he didn’t even have to try to be all-encompassing; he just was.

And she wasn’t the only who noticed. Ever since they’ve been friends - her a freshman and he a sophomore - she has seen girls come and go on his radar. Nothing ever stuck. Whenever Alex and Reggie called him out for it, he claimed he was too focused on music to care about that stuff. 

She didn’t know whether that should make her happy or not. 

Just as she was getting bored, leaning against Flynn while her friend recounted a story from her job, the bottle was handed to Luke. Instinctively, Julie straightened up. Her heart pounded in her throat, muscles straining and lungs constricting. This crush would kill her one day. 

It spun and spun and spun and slowed down and twisted precariously, lingered and then… landed undoubtedly on Julie.

Shit.

Kayla gasped, cause of course she had to be unsubtle about it, while Flynn slapped her arm. Her friends were fucking wonderful. 

Their eyes met, hers nervous and his apprehensive. God, that hurt. They didn’t even have to do anything. 

“Chop chop,” Carrie smirked. Everyone knew they were best friends and a handful, like Carrie, picked up on Julie’s differing emotions. She was eating this up. “Go and make out!”

The crowd hollered as they stood up, this time with Luke rolling his at her, as if that would be comforting. She knew what he was trying to do, silently calling them idiots, but she just felt like the biggest idiot of all. 

The closet door slammed shut. Encased in the dark, Julie tried to even her breathing. 

“Huh,” Luke mused, so close she felt the words ghost her face. “Thought it would be bigger.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back as best as she could. “This is so lame.”

“Then why were you in the circle?”

“Why were you in the circle?” she retorted. Though usually a terrible liar, the obscurity helped her sell it. No way he saw her red cheeks and skittish gaze. 

Her body was burning. He was too near, every cell of her all too aware of where he was. The hairs on their skin brushed when they inhaled, their hands mere inches away. They didn’t need to move to kiss; only needed to tilt her head to kiss him.

Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. 

“Where were you, by the way?” he asked, faux-offended. “‘Toto’ was playing and I didn’t have my dance partner!” 

She laughed, the tension marginally eased. “Sorry. I was busy avoiding Flynn from pulling me into a drinking game.”

“Aha! So, this is also Flynn’s plan.”

She shrugged. “More or less.” And then- “Were you hoping for Yasmine?”

What the fuck. Why did she say that?! It sounded so jealous! If he could see her, he’d remark she was going green with envy. Her eyes shut in embarrassment, waiting for a bark of laughter and a coy confession that yes, he was hoping to get alone with her. 

Instead, she got a hesitant pause. “You- you think I wanna get with Yasmine?”

Swallowing back the pain, she uttered: “She’s pretty.”

“I guess.”

Another pause, more loaded with unsaid implications and rising temperatures. She felt him shifting on his feet, his arm swiping past hers and alighting her heart into a frenzy. 

Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.  

“I want you.” Her eyes widened as she blurted out the double entendre. “To keep talking! I want you to keep talking.”

“Right,” he chuckled, a nervous edge to his tone. “Uh…”

Julie sighed, frustration building in her chest. “How long does seven minutes take?”

Luke scoffed. “Damn, Jules, it’s that bad to be in a closet with me?”

“No!” Gah! She was doing everything wrong! “That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just-” Letting out a breath, she took a risk: “-nervous.”

All at once, she deflated with relief. It was out. No turning back. He could do whatever he wanted with that information.  

“Good or bad nervous?” he whispered.

And then she felt it again, his hand coming near, knuckles bumping against hers. It pricked and sparked and she was losing her mind a little. But they were so close to something and Julie was too curious - too dazed - to not see where it led to.  

“Good.” Her head tilted up, brave. “Very good.”

The quiet words lit a match, Luke surging forward as his hands slipped around her face and pressed an urgent kiss on her lips. It was so fast, so unexpectedly dizzying, that she didn’t have time to react. Right as she leaned in, he pulled away. 

His voice trembled, thumbs swiping her cheeks. “Do you wanna do this?”

An incredulous chuckle leapt from her mouth, a beat later crashing their lips back together with two years of hidden passion pouring out. He groaned, hands clenched around her jaw and waist as hers were gripping his neck. Her soul was on fire, adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream at a tempo she couldn’t keep up with. 

They deepened the kiss, tongues grazing past lips and teeth and eliciting pleasurable sighs and needy whimpers. Falling onto her side of the closet, Julie interrupted the kiss to giggle at his frantic rush. 

“Don’t laugh,” he giggled along, muffling the sound with another kiss as he crowded over her. 

It was intoxicating. The faint scent of his cologne, allowing her nails to trail his jaw, arching into him like he etched a space for her long ago. Kissing Luke was better than any drink she could get here.  

When his face shifted, lips dropping to her jaw and shrivelling any rational thought she might’ve had, she gasped out: “I take it you weren’t interested in Yas?”

“Never,” he mumbled. Having him so close, she saw the way his hooded eyes flicked up at her. “Is this real to you?”

The nod was fast and the kiss even faster, their incessant grins keeping them from tilting off their axis. This was the realest she’s ever been with him. This was the only way she could ever be with him; impossible to go back to friends after this. Every touch drove her further into her feelings, that delicious type of wild she’d been craving for so long. 

His hands snuck underneath her top, its warmth causing shivers up her spine and a pleased smile to curl his lips. The move made her push the beanie from his head and rake her fingers through the soft locks. It was the right call, their teasing game washing away any sense of doubt or fear. 

Or sense of time.

The door flung open. Instantly, everyone in the room started screaming and whistling at the sight of the pair’s compromising position. Flynn and Kayla were hugging each other as if their favourite artists just appeared in front of them. Alex and Reggie body-slammed in victory. 

Julie couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed. Luke and her were finally where they were supposed to be. Noting the cocky grin crawling up his face, he was thinking the same thing.  

Carrie was unfazed, a quirked brow assessing them.

“Had fun?”

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

okay, so for this clip you need to know those details from sos I mentioned, in which Jens lives in the flatshare because his dad is homophobic (in sos he finds Lucas with Jens and reacts badly, and Jens eventually moves out). so this is discussed (mostly just alluded to), along with the hate crime in s3, so be aware of that. there are also vague allusions to Sander’s episode in s3. as a final content warning—this clip is also unnecessarily long 😅

Tuesday, 19:47

Songs: David Bowie - Rebel Rebel; The 1975 - Antichrist; EDEN - hertz

Robbe tugs Sander along at a somewhat rapid pace, and Sander complains as he drags his feet. “Robbe, what’s the rush?”

“Nothing,” Robbe says, too quickly, but he slows down and hugs Sander’s arm. “Nothing, sorry. Just, you know Milan, he’s pretty impatient.”

Sander narrows his eyes, but lets his boyfriend press closer and kiss his cheek. He smiles down at Robbe as the boy twines their fingers together, still guiding him down the street at a much more sedate pace.

Robbe had just taken them out for dinner, nothing overly fancy but slightly more expensive than making croques on the grill. They’d tucked themselves into a booth in a quiet cafe, which was fully decorated in shiny wood, cracked leather, and dimly glowing light. It even had an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner that Robbe convinced to play Bowie after a coin and a few prods and light kicks. The food was still cheap and greasy and Robbe’s smile was shy and Sander loved every second of it. They tangled their legs under the table and their hands atop it and it was the most perfect birthday date Sander could have imagined.

He expected to go back to one of their homes to continue the celebrations, but instead he finds himself on his way to the flatshare, apparently at Milan’s demand. It’s not entirely surprising, and fairly sweet, really, and Robbe seems mostly innocent and unfazed. Still, Sander is suspicious. He has a feeling.

Which is why he’s utterly amused and smug when they run into Lucas outside the apartment building.

Or, well, they don’t run into him. They hear him before they see him, and Robbe stiffens and curses under his breath. Then they see him standing outside his father’s car, holding a four-pack of alcohol in one hand and a clinking bag in the other. The closer they get, the easier it is to hear another familiar voice over Lucas’s.

“—just because you and that boyfriend of yours are old enough to drink that stuff, doesn’t mean everyone here is. I will not be responsible for supplying alcohol to minors, alright? I work at a youth center, for Christ’s sake.”

“Dad, literally not even half the people here will need that warning. The others have beer, and juice, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t care, Luc, I’m trusting you to be trustworthy. That’s your stash, you watch who drinks it.”

Lucas looks towards the sky in exasperation and lets out a sigh. “It’s Jens’s place, Jens’s guests, so he can take responsibility. Why didn’t you give him this speech?”

“Because he’s not my son and he’s not the one using my money to buy alcohol for his friends. He’s your boyfriend, your responsibility.”

Lucas tosses his hands up as well as he can, considering they’re full, and casts a sideways glance this time. Which means he finally catches sight of Robbe and Sander standing a few feet away, both with bemused expressions, and instantly freezes on the spot. Sander gives him a small, pleased wave, and Lucas’s shoulders slump. “Fuck.”

“Language,” Hugo van der Heijden predictably reprimands, before poking his head out the window. Sander salutes him as Robbe gives him a pointed look, and he says, “Ah, shit. Sorry, kiddo.” He directs this at Robbe before turning his kind smile on Sander. “Happy birthday.”

Sander moves closer and tugs Robbe with him, because there’s no point in pretending now. “Thanks,” he says, burying a laugh as Lucas sits on the hood of the car and sets the bag down to cover his face. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucas tells him, as Robbe pinches Sander’s arm and he winces away. He huffs and steps forward to meet Lucas as he stands, letting the younger boy envelop him in a one-armed hug. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Sander repeats, before tilting his head at Lucas’s navy-grey button up. “Aw, who thought you’d even try to clean up nice for me.”

Lucas punches his shoulder to nudge him back a step. “You’re an asshole and I don’t know why I like you.” The comment is accompanied with such a fond smile that Sander doesn’t even feel the sting. Instead he just pulls his friend away as Hugo beeps the horn and Lucas almost jumps out of his skin trying to get away. Lucas glares at his father as Robbe giggles behind them.

“Everything I said still goes,” Hugo presses. “Best behavior.”

Sander grins at the man. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after them.”

“No, you have fun. It’s their job to look after themselves, they’re big boys. Now go and act surprised.”

Robbe groans as Sander simply laughs, accepting the orders with a nod. Lucas waves at his father with a lot of clanking and rustling as a result. “Okay, you can go now too, thanks for the lift and the drinks and so on.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “You either sneak in as quietly as a mouse or be Jens’s problem for the night, understood?”

Lucas salutes him, but inevitably leans down to kiss his cheek before the man gives a final wave and drives off.

Robbe sighs while hugging Sander’s arm to his chest again. “Wanna swap dads?” he asks Lucas.

“Funny that a year ago I probably would’ve said yes,” Lucas shrugs. Then he grimaces. “Sorry, I kind of fucked up the surprise, huh?”

“Irreparably,” Robbe agrees. “Shall we go up anyway?”

“Yes, please, this will be too funny,” Sander says, delighted. The other two share a look and shake their heads and Sander just rocks on his heels and urges them forward. He feels overwhelmingly pleased now, his heart thumping and smile splitting his cheeks, which Robbe squishes together before granting him a soft kiss.

“Okay, at least be nice,” Robbe says. “I know that’s not your style, but, for me.”

Sander sighs heavily and Robbe bites down his grin. “Fine. For you. Even though it’s my birthday.”

Robbe’s grin widens and he kisses Sander’s nose before letting them into the apartment. Sander blinks at the key, and then has to quickly shrug it off as he’s steered through the short hallway and there’s a loud chorus of ‘Surprise!’

The room is fuller than Sander expects, and he actually does startle at the sight. His surprised face is fairly genuine, and there are about a dozen grins beaming back at him, and then Lucas joins in the cheer half a second too late and a dozen faces drop. There is a round of complaints and groans. Milan drops his head back in disappointment. Jens covers his face with a hand.

“Oh, fuck all of you,” Lucas says back, before raising his brows and the alcohol still weighing him down.

There’s a new round of cheers, to which Lucas responds by flipping off the room at large.

Sander is glad of how it worked out, because it’s a big enough break in the tension that everyone immediately moves into action instead of continuing to stare at him. The flat members move forward first, Jens to give Sander a clap on the back before taking the bag from Lucas and disappearing to the kitchen and Milan to engulf Sander in a hug.

“Okay,” the man says as he pulls back, holding Sander’s head in his hands. “Tell me you at least didn’t know about the surprise until Lucas messed it up.”

Sander snorts. “No, I just thought I was coming for my gifts.”

“Ha, cute.” Milan pinches his cheek, then winks. “They’re all over in the corner, but you’ll have to wait until later. Sorry if this isn’t what you expected after your date.” He raises his brows.

“It’s perfect,” Sander assures, serious this time. He glances over at Robbe. “Though maybe not for a Tuesday night?”

Robbe shrugs. “They all have their own free will. If they can’t survive their self-inflicted hangover for a few hours of school, that’s their problem.”

Sander huffs a laugh, and nods his acquiescence. “Still, though, how did you actually get everyone here?” Aside from Milan, the Broerrrs, and Senne and the girls, who Sander would expect Robbe to invite, his other friends are mingled in with the crowd. Adi chats quietly to Senne in the corner; Gilles and Luca are trapped in an animated conversation as Thomas watches on in clear amusement; Emilie is laughing at something Zoë says to her. Everyone, in one place, even the ones he thought Robbe would have no way of contacting.

“Well, I could contact Adi easily, and then I asked him about the others,” Robbe flushes. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“No, no,” Sander immediately appeases, granting him a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

Robbe smiles brilliantly.

He doesn’t realise someone else has approached him until they clear their throat, and he drags his gaze from Robbe to find Zoë in front of them, her kind smile already in place. “Happy birthday,” she says sweetly, also giving him a quick hug. “Sorry we couldn’t make it more exciting.”

“No, it’s nice,” Sander assures. “I couldn’t have liked how it worked out more.”

Her smile widens and she shakes her head at him. “Of course. I won’t hold you up, I just need to tell you Yasmina isn’t here because Ramadan and she was worried she’d just have to leave right away.”

“Yeah, no, Iftar and everything, that’s fine,” Sander smiles. “She already messaged me to say happy birthday and that hopefully she would see me again soon. I’m sure I’ll see her before the end of the week.”

“Okay, good. And obviously Jana also can’t be here, but they all pitched in on your gifts, so I’m supposed to tell you that. Senne joined me in getting you something, too.”

Sander laughs, nodding. “Okay, thank you. You know none of you had to get me anything, or do all of this.”

Zoë rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling softly. “Of course we do, Sander. This is what you have to deal with as one of us.”

It sends another flood of warmth to his heart, and he’s sure she knows it, that it’s likely the intended effect. It’s a feeling he’s been experiencing a lot today, and he suspects this won’t be the last time during the evening. For now, he gives Zoë the biggest, warmest smile he can muster and thanks her again.

“You’re welcome,” is all she says this time. She gives Robbe’s shoulder a fond squeeze as well before slipping away.

Robbe rests his chin on Sander’s shoulder and gazes up at him through his lashes. “Ready to make a round?”

Sander nods and lets his boyfriend lead the way.

Of course, Gilles latches on to them as soon as they move and raises their arms in a cheer. “Sander! Happy birthday, you beautiful bitch!”

Robbe’s laugh is louder than Sander’s, so of course that means he drags them over and plops down next to Sander’s friend as the others turn to join them. Gilles beams and ruffles Robbe’s hair in greeting, and Sander is finally gratified when Robbe makes an affronted sound and brushes them away. “Lucas helped me with this,” he complains, then flushes as he realises what he’s given away. Sander raises his brows when Robbe peeks a look up at him. Robbe huffs and catches Sander’s wrist, giving a tug so that Sander almost tumbles into his lap.

“Robbe,” he complains, laughing. “I’ll crush you.”

“No you won’t.” Robbe rolls his eyes. Then he softens his gaze, looking up at Sander with his small smile and damn doe eyes. “Come here,” he requests quietly.

Sander shakes his head, cursing internally, but gently lowers himself onto his boyfriend’s lap. He prays the chair won’t falter under their weight, and the creak is slightly worrying, but it holds steady. Robbe makes a pleased hum and winds his arms around him, immediately pressing a kiss to Sander’s shoulder and then resting his cheek there.

“Thank you,” he says, all genuine smiles and happy sighs, and Sander does not melt. He might, however, wind his arm around Robbe’s shoulder and lean into him just a little more.

Gilles makes a somewhat anguished sound, but when Sander turns to look at them they’re still beaming. They’re staring with their face resting in a hand, appearing to be in a state of utter awe. “Where can I find this? Someone give me this.”

From their other side, Luca slaps their arm. “I know, right? Guys, this isn’t fair, at least Jens and I used to have some solidarity but now he’s just as bad.”

“Sorry,” Robbe laughs, not looking even slightly apologetic as he cuddles closer to Sander. “But now you two have solidarity, right?”

Gilles lights up at the realisation, spinning to Luca again with obvious interest. Robbe giggles quietly against Sander’s collarbone, pleased with himself, and Sander ducks his head down to whisper in the boy’s ear. “Does this mean I’ve upheld the deal and actually do know cool gays for Luca?”

“Depends,” Robbe whispers back, amused. “Are you suggesting Gilles is cool?”

Sander makes a face, but doesn’t argue either way. Instead, he checks if his other friends are seeing what he’s seeing. He’s a little anxious, as he looks towards Emilie, but she’s watching Gilles and Luca with an odd consideration as Amber talks her ear off. Thomas is watching the whole thing through wide eyes from behind his glasses, but he gives Sander a subtle, enthusiastic little nod.

“How did you all manage to not mention this to me?” The thought occurs to Sander suddenly, and while he’s looking at Thomas, it’s mostly directed at Gilles.

Adi speaks up and surprises him. He hadn’t seen the older boy coming over. “I wondered that too, honestly.”

“And you’re a sneaky bastard,” Sander tells him.

Adi looks amused. “Why’s that?”

Sander scoffs. “‘Any special birthday plans for tomorrow?’,” he mocks.

“Ah, come on, you really had no idea? He didn’t give nothing away?” Adi gestures at Robbe.

“I thought we were just going to have an...interesting date,” Sander shrugs, making Robbe blush.

Adi laughs. “What, are we boring you?”

“Yes, get out of my sight,” Sander says, deadpan, and Robbe lets out a startled laugh as Adi gapes at him.

“Emilie tried to make sure you wouldn’t notice anything and I tried to keep Gilles as far away from you as possible.” The explanation Thomas gives makes sense, and Robbe extends his arm behind Sander to high-five him, and Gilles is thankfully too busy to notice.

They sit around talking for an indiscernible amount of time before Sander wiggles his way free of Robbe. The boy protests, of course, trying to cling on and pull Sander back towards him, so Sander leans down and grants him a kiss before moving away. No one else tries to stop him from leaving the room, and he’s hopeful he’ll have a straight path to the kitchen. He’s starting to feel antsy, and he needs to move around and take something in, and what’s better than a drink?

When he steps out into the hallway, however, he runs into Milan again, who has just opened the door for Noor.

He panics for a brief moment, eyes flicking around for blonde hair as he debates if he should go on without acknowledging them. But Noor has already caught sight of him and is giving her brilliant smile, and no one pops out of thin air behind her, so Sander roots himself to the spot. “Hey,” he greets, aiming for cheerful. His tone manages, but he’s doubtful of his smile, which he thinks wavers alongside his balance.

“Happy birthday,” she says. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek, hopefully not leaving a bright lipstick stain. (She occasionally does it on purpose and waits for the target to notice, and with everyone else in on the game, the unlucky soul is rarely offered any help.) Sander raises a hand to his cheek cautiously and Noor simply laughs in response, shaking her head. “Not on your birthday.”

Sander narrows his eyes, because honestly, it seems like a perfectly innocent birthday prank. He weighs the possibility for a moment before nodding in acceptance and letting his smile widen again. “Thank you.”

She holds up the little bag in her hand and waves it at him. “Milan says there’s a time and place for these, otherwise I’d just pass it over now.” She lowers her arm and hesitates for a moment, smile shifting as she seems to debate if she should tell Sander what she’s thinking or not. “Britt couldn’t make it, but she helped me pick out the gift.”

Sander takes it for the crooked olive branch it is and nods. “Thank you, seriously,” he says. “And you can extend it to Britt?”

“Of course.” Noor smiles again and squeezes his shoulder before going to join the others. Sander looks after her for a moment before finally getting to the kitchen.

This seems to be the most party-like room in the house. The entire counter is littered with snacks and there are rainbow-coloured fairy lights strung along the cupboards. There’s a stack of party hats and a precarious pile of paper plates. The table has pretty much been turned into a mini-bar, with countless alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks spread out, as well as what must be at least five packs of red party cups. It even appears to have a bartender; Moyo stands behind it mixing a drink, flicking and flipping bottles around and bopping his head and hips to the tempo of the music. He doesn’t even look up as Sander makes his way over, just holds up a hand in a signal to wait.

Sander stares at the table. His pulse feels suddenly quicker. The bottles of beer are sitting closest to him, at the edge of the table, and he allows his fingers to brush over the neck of one. It’s not unfamiliar, of course. He doesn’t even know why he’s hesitating.

It’s just that he should be at home right now, working on the assignment he’d messed up. It’s just that he has class tomorrow, and doesn’t really want to suffer through it with a hangover. It’s just that things have been actually going well.

It’s just that, no matter how long it’s been, he remembers feeling suffocated. He remembers going from burning up to drowning in frigid air, from too much to nothing. He remembers feeling everything at top intensity only to drop into a debilitating state of numbness. Even when it blurs, he remembers.

“Hey, man.” Moyo breaks him out of his thoughts. His voice is uncharacteristically soft, and when Sander looks up, his expression is understanding. “Look, it’s your birthday. Robbe’s right there, and Lucas, and plenty of other friends. And if you want to take a drink, none of them are going to stop you. They never do. It’s always chill, you’re fine.”

Sander opens his mouth, then closes it again. He feels awkward and fidgety and he doesn’t actually want to respond to that. He doesn’t want to think about this.

Not now, he pleads silently.

“Or,” Moyo continues, before Sander would have been able to get two words out anyway. “You can let me make you a mocktail.”

He’s grinning, but Sander can only blink. “A mocktail?”

“Yeah. You know, a cocktail, but without the alcohol?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever tried a cocktail.”

Moyo’s grin widens, and he spreads his hands to show off his stash. “It’s your lucky night then. I honestly prefer mocktails, because the alcohol usually just makes them extra sharp and leaves a shitty aftertaste. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He points at Sander warningly, and Sander holds his hands up, smiling slightly now as he nods.

“I heard it.”

They both jump at the voice, but it’s just Senne in the doorway. He smirks a little before coming to join them, leaning his hip on the table so his body is twisted slightly towards Sander while he can still keep Moyo in his expectant gaze.

“Alright.” Moyo rubs his hands together, seeming to accept Senne’s presence and entrust him with their secrets. “I’m gonna make you my personal fave, and if you don’t like it or when you finish it, you come back to me for another. Got it? I am your server for the evening.”

“I’m flattered,” Sander admits, and Moyo winks at him before bursting into another flurry of movement. He’s a little apprehensive, unsure if he should really be taking anything Moyo concocts. They don’t actually know each other that well, despite how long it’s been and how frequently they hang out in the same group. Sander thinks this might be the first time they’ve actually interacted one-on-one. But Moyo has never given Sander any reason to distrust him, and the look he’d given him had been knowing. Moyo probably understands better than he thinks.

That thought still feels a little bitter, so he brushes it away and just watches the other work, trying to tune his thoughts out with the sound of the music and sheer determination.

He can enjoy himself. He’d even worked a lot on his assignment today already, knowing he’d be meeting up with Robbe in the evening. Robbe wouldn’t be keeping him away if he didn’t think Sander could manage it, and Sander trusts Robbe’s faith in him. It’s even enough to make him smile as he watches on with apprehension.

“Are you gonna make me one of these too?” Senne asks, head tilted curiously.

“Nope,” Moyo says, without a hint of hesitation. “Special birthday treat. Anyway, don’t pretend you didn’t come looking for alcohol.”

Senne lifts a beer and has the cap off in an instant. He tilts it at Moyo and takes a slug in confirmation, before turning to lean back against the table and giving Sander his full attention. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Sander grins. “How’s blissful married life?”

Senne scoffs at him, but he’s still smirking slightly. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’d say it’s going very well,” Sander hums.

Senne’s smirk softens into a smile, and he crosses his arms before casually taking a sip of his beer. “You’re still treating my boy right, then.”

Moyo snorts, barely halting his movements as he raises a brow at Senne. “Your boy?”

“Hey.” Senne presses a finger to his own chest as he looks over his shoulder at Moyo. “I was the hot older guy in his life first.”

Sander and Moyo just burst into laughter. “Yeah, but in like, a teen dad kinda way, right?” Sander muses, squinting as if he’s trying to recall where he got the description.

“A hot dad,” Senne keeps up his argument.

“A DILF,” Moyo offers.

Sander laughs again as Senne points at the boy in agreement. Moyo finally passes him a full cup with a triumphant expression. Sander takes the cup and then a small sip. He lets the liquid coat his tongue, savours it as it slips down his throat. His brows raise, and he holds the cup back out to Moyo in a toast. “You’re good.”

Moyo taps Sander’s cup with his own and cheers.

At some stage, he ends up alone on the couch. The others, by now, are spread out all over the house, but most of them are in here, chatting or dancing. While most are energised by whatever alcohol they’ve consumed, Sander is nursing his second mocktail and beginning to feel the weight of a long day. Still, he tips his head back against the cushions and watches his friends and he feels okay.

Jens joins him, eventually. Sander doesn’t even see him come in, and then he’s dropping wordlessly into the empty space next to him. The silence lingers on for a moment, both of them content in it. The exact reason Sander enjoys Jens’s company.

After a while, he holds his beer bottle out to Sander with a raised brow. It takes Sander a moment to figure out why, and then he bumps his cup against it. Jens nods in approval and takes a gulp, and Sander watches his eager swallows in silent contemplation.

“Enjoying your birthday?” Jens finally breaks the silence, glancing back and forth between Sander and the others dancing.

Sander shrugs, nodding. “It’s a more exciting day than I expected, honestly.”

Jens hums, then takes another sip. He doesn’t say anything else.

It’s strange. Jens isn’t the loudest one of the group, by far, but he’s being oddly quiet. His slouched posture could be his usual chill demeanor, but it seems too tense. Sullen. It’s weirding Sander out, a little, and he wants to understand it so it isn’t quite so freaky, but it still takes a moment to convince himself to ask.

“What’s wrong?”

Jens startles at the question. He looks over at Sander in surprise, eyes a little wide. Just as quickly, he’s looking away again and clearing his throat, sitting up a little straighter before he speaks. “What? Nothing.”

Sander narrows his eyes, but doesn’t prod. If Jens doesn’t want to tell him, that’s fine. They aren’t besties. Sander can just quietly inform Robbe, who will deal with it himself, and then Sander won’t even have to feel guilty. It’s not actually his place. Instead, he just waits.

“I think Luc is pissed at me,” Jens mutters, after all of about five seconds.

Sander huffs, but frowns slightly. He looks out at their friends. It doesn’t take him long to find Lucas—mostly because he’s right next to Robbe. Whereas Robbe is twirling Noor around in a fitting dance to the music, however, Lucas is focused on a more chaotic Milan who seems to be attempting to show him some rather sensual moves. Lucas, equally, does <i>not</i> seem to do his best to follow along, poorly mimicking the moves through hysterical laughter.

“He doesn’t seem pissed,” Sander muses, turning back to Jens with a brow raised pointedly. Jens shrugs and looks down at his beer, tracing his fingertip around the top, and Sander sighs and thinks fuck it. “What’s wrong, Jens?”

Jens glances up at him, and then down again, and then lets out a sigh of his own. “She finally kicked him out.”

Sander blinks, and has to think for a moment. When realisation hits, he decides he probably should not be the one handling this conversation. He has to tread lightly. Maybe he should just pretend he has to pee to escape and then fetch Robbe, instead. But...Jens has trusted him with it.

Dammit.

“Your dad?” he asks quietly.

Jens nods.

“Isn’t that a good thing? What does it have to do with Lucas? I mean...aside from the obvious.”

“Well, because.” Jens pauses to run a hand through his hair, frustrated. “He’s not even gone yet, and Lucas wants me to move home.”

Sander purses his lips in understanding. “You don’t want to.”

“Why would I?” Jens huffs. Then he pulls a face that’s faintly apologetic before shaking his head. Sander realises he’s likely more than a little tipsy, if his rapid but sloppy speech is anything to go by, along with the seemingly senseless hand gestures he’s making. “I do miss my mom, I guess, and Lotte, but still. I go into my room and it’s just...it’s suffocating. And Lucas is pissed about it. Well, I guess he’s more pissed on my behalf. He says that what happened shouldn’t get to control me so much, especially when the asshole’s not even there. That I shouldn’t have to keep making the sacrifice because of it when I have the freedom to go back now.”

This is starting to sound very familiar, and that hits rather close to home.

There suddenly isn’t enough air, and his chest is suddenly tight, breaths just a little too shallow. He flicks his gaze around until it lands on Robbe again. He’s moved onto dancing with Zoë now, her confidently leading his more awkward frame. Some of the tension in Sander eases, and he swallows down the feeling in favour of trying to form a coherent response.

“But that doesn’t mean he’s pissed at you,” Sander says carefully. “It also doesn’t sound unreasonable, and it’s not like he doesn’t understand. He just wants the best and the most for you.” He wants you to have the world. The universe, if possible. He doesn’t want anything to be taken from you, and especially not because of him.

Jens seems to accept this, but still frowns slightly, still makes himself a little smaller. “But I’m happy here. I’m happy. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Sander swallows. He lets his eyes shift from Robbe to Lucas, and finds his friend staring back at him. Lucas’s expression is mostly blank, but Sander can see the concern etched into his eyes and the pinch of his lips. Sander offers him a hesitant smile and after a moment, he looks away.

“Maybe it’s not enough for him,” he says.

Jens’s face falls.

Sander quickly shakes his head. “No, I mean—maybe it’s because of how it still affects him. He doesn’t want it to control how he feels. He wants to be bigger than it, move past it, but there’s nothing he really can do. Except for helping you. If he’s seeing you deal with it and recover from it, then it makes it easier for him, too.”

The feeling of too much is creeping in. He’s thinking too much, saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much away. It’s an overreaction, maybe. After so long, surely. That event shouldn’t still affect him like this, right? It shouldn’t still feel like a shock to his system. He can only hope it doesn’t appear like one outwardly.

But Jens is just silently contemplative as he takes in what Sander has said, eyes lingering on his boyfriend thoughtfully. When he turns back to Sander, he’s simply curious. “Has he spoken to you about it?”

Sander doesn’t even have to think back. “No. Aside from at the time, he’s never brought it up. I didn’t want to do it and just hurt him, so it wasn’t discussed.”

Jens purses his lips and nods. His smile is self-derogatory. “You just know my best friend and my boyfriend better than me.”

“No,” Sander says again, even though he’s not as sure. He’s fairly sure. The only people he knows who seem as close as Jens and Lucas are Robbe and himself. “I’m just speaking from experience,” he admits quietly.

Now Jens’s gaze sharpens, and he actually looks at Sander. It takes no time, then, for the realisation to set in, and he curses under his breath. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this to you right now, anyway, it’s your birthday.” He rubs his hand over his face and huffs. “Sorry, I swear, sometimes I have no tact. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, stop.” Sander waves him off. He hesitates only slightly before continuing. “I’m glad. That you’re comfortable enough that you could talk to me about it. I think the universe seriously wants us to be friends, at this point.”

Jens snorts. “I think you’re all seriously weird about your universe stuff.”

Sander grins at him. “The universe stuff will take over you eventually, too. I don’t know how it hasn’t already, how long have you known Robbe?”

This time Jens just rolls his eyes silently, but he’s smiling now too.

“Seriously,” Sander says. “Thank you. It doesn’t matter about the timing, I’m glad you can talk to me.”

Jens’s smile softens, and he gives a small nod. “Maybe we should all be able to talk about it more,” he says quietly.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

They return to a short lapse of silence, and Sander takes a sip of his forgotten drink. The fruity liquid soothes his throat, and the break in the conversation allows more of the pressure to release. His heartbeat feels normal again by the time Jens turns back to him.

“Thanks, though. Seriously. You’re probably right, about Luc. I’ll talk to him.”

Sander just feels pleased as he smiles now, like he accomplished something, said something right. The mood and balance is being restored, and he just needs to accept the segway and lighten things further. “If you want to thank me, I’m sure you can play a pretty piano version of ‘Happy Birthday’.”

“Fuck you,” Jens scoffs, eyes narrowing slightly.

“So you can’t? I thought that would’ve been fairly basic, but okay.” Sander shrugs, taking a casual sip of his drink to strengthen the taunting.

Jens glares hotly at him. “Fuck you. Of course I can play ‘Happy Birthday’.” Jens drags himself to his feet and jabs a finger at him. “Don’t move then.”

Balance immediately restored, Sander thinks amusedly.

Milan pauses Jens as he makes his way through the crowd, and Sander watches as Jens says something in response and Milan beams. He shoots a look at Sander before the two of them are flouncing off, and moments later, Sander is being subjected to a much louder, much further off-key rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, and more candles.

The keyboard bit is fine, though, he grudgingly admits.

When Jens sets it aside, Lucas is there grabbing his hands and dragging him to his feet as Robbe does the same to Sander. They’re both smiling through their protests, and everyone can see it.

So now, they’re dancing.

It feels more lively, after that. Everyone is gathered on their makeshift dance-floor by now. Sander takes catalogue of them all, marveling at how Gilles has somehow managed to rope Thomas and even Adi into dancing. Emilie is now the one with Luca, both of them laughing as they sway around with their hands joined between them. Noor and Moyo have gravitated towards each other as usual and, instead of huddling close like the others, seem to have a teacher–student method of dancing going on that Noor keeps up with rather well. Milan, Zoë and Senne are dancing in a little circle, and Amber and Aaron have moved on to just standing amidst it all and kissing. Jens and Lucas aren’t dancing anymore, either, but they’re held close. Sander watches until Jens leans down to murmur something in Lucas’s ear and Lucas smiles, leaning into the taller boy as Jens kisses his temple.

Satisfied, Sander is finally able to focus on the boy in his own arms. Robbe is already watching him when Sander catches his gaze, brow slightly furrowed and lips slightly quirked in that adorable questioning expression. Sander draws him closer by the waist and interrupts their step-swaying to catch him in a kiss, and as the music gets louder, his mind quiets.

~^~

previous/next

[theoriginalladya]

A Constant Wish

A Constant Wish

Summary:  An anniversary, but not of the enjoyable kind. Nine years on, and Commander Shepard is still dealing with the fallout from Akuze. It's up to Kaidan Alenko to guide him through it.

Tags: Sole Survivor, survivor’s guilt, death, grief, Akuze, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, mshenko

Characters: Caleb Shepard, Kaidan Alenko

NOTE: Four years ago today, my mother lost her battle with cancer. Today, even though I knew the date in my head, it didn't connect until my youngest brother mentioned something in our family text chat. It hit me like a ton of bricks, just as it did then. I've learned to move on, to keep going, to keep living, but this day each year is always the hardest fucking day to get through. And so I wrote this with her in mind for my Caleb Shepard who has his own ghosts to deal with.

Love you, Mom.

A daily thought, a silent tear, A constant wish that you were here

~~~~

Kaidan wakes suddenly, inexplicably, to darkness and the sense that something isn’t quite right.  Not a nightmare, not someone waking him with a touch or a sound, but that unerring feeling that something is just… off.  It isn’t panic so much as a general unease, but he’s used to listening to his gut these days; it’s saved his life or that of a squadmate or even Shepard himself more than once.  

Shepard.

Rolling over, he discovers the bed is empty but for him.  That sends his heart racing faster than he expects and he nearly falls face first to the floor as he scrambles out from beneath the covers.  The time it takes to yank on his sweats and a t-shirt seems an eternity, but he is fully aware thanks to the cold flooring beneath bare feet.  

A thorough search of the upper part of the apartment finds nothing out of the ordinary.  The side note to that is he also fails to locate Shepard.  Granted, he still has half the apartment to investigate, but the fact he cannot find a recent trace of his presence is a bit disconcerting.

He descends to the lower level and begins by checking the back room.  Empty. Next, the living room and the bar. Also, empty.  The lights in the kitchen are dim, just the way they left them when they headed upstairs after dinner.  Still no sign of the man.  

Kaidan tacks his way across to the opposite set of stairs to head back up – maybe he missed him in passing?  As he walks past the hall branching off to his right into the den, habit has him glancing that direction.  In front of the faint flickering fire light, he catches a silhouette; a familiar shape seated at the poker table, hunched over, glass in hand. Unease morphs to concern and curiosity, and he pads down the hallway, calling out softly as he reaches the doorway, “Shepard?  You okay?”

The silhouette jerks suddenly as if startled, then relaxes with an exhale of breath.  “I’m fine, mo ghrá.”

Kaidan takes the response as an invitation to join him, and he slides into a seat at the table.  “Drinking alone?  In the dark? Gonna have to do a better job of convincing me you’re fine,” he challenges, albeit gently.

Shepard huffs; a soft sound and one nearly drowned out by the pop and crackle of the fire.  He sets the glass on the table, rises to his feet, and walks over to the small bar in the corner.  Within moments, he returns with a bottle and a second glass.  This he fills and pushes towards Kaidan, then tops off his own before reclaiming his seat.  “Not alone now, am I?” he asks, setting the bottle down with a heavy thud next to what look to be four playing cards.  

From his position and in the dimly lit room, Kaidan can’t tell which ones they are.  However, knowing Shepard as he does, he can guess their purpose.  Why are you down here drinking and doing card readings in the darkest hours of the night?

Taking the glass in both hands, he pulls it close but does not drink just yet.  Before anything else, he wants, needs, some answers.  “What are we drinking to?”

“Not what,” Shepard declares, blue eyes piercing through the dark to meet Kaidan’s as he lifts his head, “who.”

Kaidan acquiesces with a slight cant of his head. “All right.  Who?”

Shepard lifts his glass in salute.  “Sergeant Angela Nevarra.”

Kaidan frowns.  The name sounds hazily familiar; he’s heard it before but cannot place it.

“Sergeants Carter, Evans and Decatur,” Shepard continues, clearly not expecting a response.  “Corporals Harris, Simmons, Grassini, Aoki, and Meijer.  Malik, Masterson, Owens, Jenson, Weston, Alvarez…”

Kaidan listens in silence but keeps his eyes on Shepard’s face as he continues to list them off.  As the list gets longer, comprehension dawns.  Shepard stops reciting names at forty-eight and the quiet surrounds them again.  Cautiously, Kaidan asks quietly about one name that was not mentioned.  “What about Toombs?”

“Toombs.”

There is a hint of brutality in the way Shepard says the name which Kaidan doesn’t quite understand.  For everyone else associated with Akuze, there is a fondness, a reverence almost in the way their former commander speaks of them, but with Toombs, it’s different.  “That’s his name, isn’t it?  The one we ran into on Ontarom?  Back –”

Shepard tosses back the last of his whiskey, swallows it in a large gulp, and shakes his head sharply once.  “Aye, I remember.”  He slams the glass onto the table with enough force the platform quakes for a moment.  “Heard from him last year, did I ever tell you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Kaidan shakes his head anyway.  The time they’ve spent together since his recovery, since the war began, they’ve avoided the more… controversial topics.  Not that Kaidan blames him for not bringing it up; it’s probably just as well.

With a soft snort, Shepard grabs the bottle and pours another two-fingers worth of whiskey.  This is the third drink Kaidan is aware of, and he can’t help but wonder how many Shepard drank when he was alone, before Kaidan found him. 

Their eyes meet again, and the look in them… Well, Kaidan understands now just why the man’s name in Irish is sealgaire, the hunter.  It’s all Kaidan can do to hold his ground.  And, that is knowing that the look isn’t directed at him.

Shepard’s scowl is dark and foreboding as he tosses back this drink, and there is a vehemence in his voice Kaidan has only heard maybe twice since he’s known him.  “Threaten me without knowing what happened?” the commander bites out.  “Briseadh agus brú ar do chnámha!  Go hifreann leat!”**

Kaidan reacts immediately, reaching forward and prying the glass from Shepard’s long fingers.  “Okay, Shepard, that’s enough.  I’m calling time for the night.”

Shepard struggles momentarily, apparently not satisfied, but a moment later releases his hold.  Sighing heavily, he covers his face with his hands.  “Tá brón orm,”**

Kaidan pushes the glasses and bottle across the table and out of easy reach and moves to crouch beside him.  “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Shepard’s hands drop away, and when the blue eyes meet his again, Kaidan recognizes the truth.  His mother once told him that if an Irish man or woman expressed true sorrow for something, there would be matching sadness in their eyes.  The sheer magnitude of the sorrow he sees in Shepard’s gaze just now is enough to level the Reapers and end the war three weeks ago, he thinks.  He reaches over and runs a hand along Shepard’s cheek in a gentle caress of understanding. “Hey.”  

Shepard leans into the touch, eyes closing.  When they open again the sorrow still lingers, but not with the same intensity.  Without the glass before him to toy with, he reaches for the playing cards lying face up. “D’you see these?”

Kaidan spares them a glance, tilting his head to get a better look.  “Did you do another reading?”

“Aye,” Shepard agrees, “but not tonight.  These…  This was my reading that night.  On Akuze, before the attack.”

Past – Two of Spades.

Present – Ten of Spades.

Future – King of Clubs.

Crossing Present – Ten of Diamonds.

None of it makes much sense to Kaidan – it never has – so he looks expectantly at Shepard.  When he remains silent, Kaidan asks, “What did they tell you?”

Shepard pauses for a moment, turning his head to look straight at Kaidan.  “That my world was going to go all to hell once again, but that this time, on the other side, I would find a path to my future…”

Kaidan looks at the cards again.  He recognizes the King of Clubs – it comes up often in Shepard’s readings, though Kaidan isn’t aware of any special attachment to it. The rest he can’t tell of he’s seen in readings before or not.  Shepard’s hand flops onto Kaidan’s shoulder, his fingers toying with his hair near his collar.  When Kaidan smiles back, Shepard’s eyes flare with an intensity that might be unsettling under other circumstances, but thanks to recent events in their lives, he has a much better idea of how to deal with.  

Rising to his feet, he sighs.  Any further explanation on the cards can wait until the man is sober again.  “Come on, we need to get you back to bed, I think.”

Shepard follows without comment or question, and, surprisingly, without stumbling.  When they reach the stairs, Shepard surprises Kaidan by sliding his arms around his waist and hugging close to his back, resting his head on his shoulder.  “You understand, aye?”

Already a step above the man, Kaidan stops and half turns to face him.  The question is very open-ended and he cannot miss the obvious pain.  It isn’t difficult to guess what he is referencing. “About Cerberus?”  Shepard nods.  Sighing softly, Kaidan wraps one arm over Shepard’s at his waist, and tilts his head close enough to ghost a quick kiss across his lips.  “Do you honestly think I would be here now if I didn’t?”

Shepard’s face screws up in confusion for a moment, an endearing look Kaidan doubts the commander would ever agree with if he is made aware of it, so Kaidan keeps the observation to himself.  Running his free hand over Shepard’s cheek again, he clarifies quietly, “Yes, mo shearc,** I understand.  You are not them; you never were.”

Hope wars with uncertainty behind those blue eyes; it’s strange to see Shepard this vulnerable, and a little disconcerting.  How much is the drink and how much just… is?

“You really believe that?”

Kaidan nods.  “Aye, I do,” he replies, echoing Shepard’s usual response and leaning in for another kiss. “Now, come on.  You need to sleep this off.  We can talk more about it later if you like.”  Though, as they ascend the stairs together, he is pretty certain it won’t ever come up again anytime soon.  Perhaps this time next year, but not before.  At least now, Kaidan is prepared.

~~~~ 

** mo ghrá = my love

** Briseadh agus brú ar do chnámha!  =  A breaking and crushing on your bones!

**Go hifreann leat! = To hell with you!

** Tá brón orm = I’m sorry

** mo shearc = my love

[oddlybitter]

draft excerpt from “for the good of the people, tartaglia must die”

hehe i am creating more and more work to do hehe

i am FINALLY writing a chili piece lmfao but it’s also got a lot of other ships in it. so, uh, it’s a bit of a wild ride. here’s what i have so far!! it’s rather unpolished but it has heart!!!

- (zhongli/childe, yanfei/hu tao, chongyun/xingqui + more to come)

- this part mostly focuses on yanfei/hu tao and chongyun/xingqui

cw: violence, blood

Pressing his back to the wall, Childe pants, blood rushing in his ears as he tries his best to listen out for the tell-tale sound of shoes pattering against the pavement. A few yards away, the sound of labored breathing grows louder, and two boys, each about the same height, skid to a halt underneath the Stone Gate's towering sheet of rock, nearly tripping on the uneven boards of the walkway. 

"Where'd he go?" One of them asks, his face very red and eyes clouded with wavering focus.

The other clenches his hand around his sword, brushing his navy bangs out of his face. "I'm not sure. The sun has not yet set. If we keep searching, I am sure we shall locate him before nightfall."

Childe swallows, his eyes wandering to the long poles of bamboo that appear to be his ticket out of here. The first boy, the one with pale blue eyes and thaumaturgist's gear, frowns, wiping his brow. 

"I don't know how much longer I can stay in control, Xingqiu."

While maintaining a look of stony focus on his face, Xingqiu leans closer, brushing the other boy's fluffy hair back with his hand to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. The light-haired boy closes his eyes, swaying slightly. 

Xingqui pulls back, cupping the other's cheek with his palm. "You're doing so well, dearest Chongyun. Just hold on a little longer."

Instead of waiting around to see this exchange and be swayed by their affectionate ways of reassurance, Childe is shimmying up a bamboo trunk, taking an arrow, and sticking it into the wood to get a leg up onto the stone ledge above the walkway. Breathing heavily, he rests for a moment, leaning his hands above his knees as he bends over. Then, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Childe starts into a sprint again, frowning against the biting wind that beckons from Mondstadt.

How he ended up running from what seems to be the entire population of Liyue is a rather long story that you've probably heard by now. You know, the whole "summoning a destructive tentacle god, nearly drowning the entire city of Liyue Harbor, having a rich lady drop her house on him" thing. He'll spare you the gritty details that you've seen before and cut straight to where the most relevant bit started: this morning, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. 

As an apology for trying to steal his Gnosis and wipe Liyue off of the map, Childe had taken to delivering gifts to Mr. Zhongli, the consultant at Wangsheng. Usually, he would send them by mail, seeing as giving Zhongli those gifts face to face was too much for the other man to bear, especially after Childe realized he had played him like a cheap flute. How a man so polite and honorable could be so cruel was beyond him, but Childe had finally plucked up the courage to see him once again. 

He had entered the funeral parlor with a box of imported wines and teas that he had learned Zhongli was fond of, only to find two young women whispering between themselves at the front desk. One of them had light pink hair that fell loosely around her waist and a set of antlers peeking out from underneath a red hat, a heavy ledger attached at her hip. The other was a girl with dark brown hair tied into twin-tails dyed red at the tips. She was dressed entirely in black with a recurring butterfly motif, and her fingers chimed each time her rings brushed up against one and other. 

Setting the box on the counter, he gave them each a quick smile. "You wouldn't have happened to see the consultant, would you?"

The young women stopped muttering, turning around to face him with faces of dawning satisfaction. The pink one smiled sweetly, clasping her hands in front of her chest. 

"Oh, but of course! Right this way, please." She beamed, leading him into a room Childe hadn't seen before. 

As soon as they stepped over the threshold, something felt off to Childe. The pink-haired girl had her back turned to him, fiddling with something on the shelf as she hummed a cheery tune. The smell of old parchment and something terribly musty clouded the air, and before Childe could react, something pressed hard against his windpipe, yanking him backward. Instantly, the pink-haired girl turned around, nodding to something behind Childe's shoulder. With a grunt, he clawed at the rope looped around his neck, digging his fingers between it and his skin as he flipped his assailant over his back. 

The dark-haired girl from earlier went flying, knocking a shelf out of place as she tumbled into the arms of her accomplice. "Yikes! He's feisty!"

As Childe went to summon his water blades, the pink-haired girl set the other on her feet once more, pulling a catalyst out of the air and drawing out the shape of a diamond with her forefingers. A sudden heat flared up by his stomach, and he looked down, taking in the seal on his Vision with a confused stare. The space in his hands remained decidedly empty. 

"According to the recently amended codices, chapter forty-one, segment three dictates that if a criminal goes unpunished and escaped justice, the allogenes within a ten-mile radius of the scene of the crime are permitted to subdue said criminal by any means possible." She said, holding her hands out in the air in front of her. "Revision date of the law is as follows: last night, June, a month after the passing of Rex Lapis."

The dark-haired girl thrust her spear out, slicing through the flesh of Childe's upper arm. "I wanted to give you an advance on our new deal, but Yanfei said that would be first-degree murder."

"We compromised," Yanfei added. "Hu Tao can be very persuasive."

Hu Tao grinned, batting her eyelashes at the other girl. "My, my... Stop it,  you! You're so cute when you flatter me."

Blinking, Childe pressed his palm to the cut on his arm, trying to stop the bleeding. "What's going on?"

"Manslaughter of the second degree!" Yanfei chirped helpfully, and then set his scarf on fire. 

“I thought you said you compromised!” He screeched, batting at the rather fiery half of his scarf.

Smoke clouded the room like thick, cloying cobwebs, and just as Childe had extinguished the blaze that set the entire room full of very flammable objects on fire, he saw Hu Tao and Yanfei slip through a doorway cleverly hidden by a cabinet. Ducking out after them, he left the door open behind him, letting the plumes of smoke cloak his departure. Without a moment’s hesitation, Childe sprinted to the back exit, ripping off the pointedly un-burned part of his scarf to wrap around his arm. 

As he pressed his back against the outside wall of the funeral parlor, Childe ran a hand through his hair, streaking ash over the bridge of his nose. What in the ever-loving fuck just happened, he asked himself, and who the fuck were they?

Before he could have received an answer, Childe lifted his head from his hands just in time to avoid a sword plunging into the ground at his face. Frost crept from the blade, stretching across the cracks in the cobblestone. He looked up, already tired, to see a young girl perching on the roof, peering down at him from above. 

"Qiqi missed..." She muttered, raising a finger to her mouth as if she were trying to remember something. "What were Qiqi's orders again?"

Before he could think, Childe blurted out the first thing to come into his mind. "Do you know a Hu Tao?"

The child's face darkened. "Hu Tao... Qiqi knows."

"She tried to kill me. I think you should run away before she does the same to you."

If realization could have dawned on this expressionless child's face, it would have been blooming like spring flowers. Hopping down onto the pavement beside him, Qiqi nodded solemnly. 

"Qiqi greets you, strange-looking zombie. Many a time has Hu Tao tried to bury our kind. Qiqi will protect you, seeing as we stand against her in solidarity." Qiqi promised very earnestly, and Childe felt a twinge of guilt in his chest for lying to a kid. It quickly vanished as the sound of rushed footsteps echoed behind the doorway a few yards away. 

With a salute, he nodded at Qiqi with a grim look on his face. "Thank you, Qiqi. I am sure you will live on as a hero."

"Qiqi already died, but thank you for the sentiment."

Childe was gone before he could even clock what she meant. 

[antihero-writings]

WOOHOO IT'S CHASSEUR DAY!!

This is a fic I started for this prompt on my ph and vnc blog, which I finally got around to finishing today for @phmonth2021's vnc countdown, Day 5: The Chasseurs!

Since the prompt helps explain a bit of why the story is the way it is, I'll include it here!

"But I also agree, Roland & Olivier are two characters that would be really fun to explore. What are they doing when they break out of chasseur mode? I find it amusing that Olivier is so popular with the ladies but can't be bothered by all that. Heh!"

Thank you @adriisamused so much for this prompt!! <3 <3 And once again, I'm sorry it took so long.

I'm honestly really proud of this fic, and I had such much fun with it!! I really hope you all like it!! I'd absolutely love to hear it if you do!!

Lastly, if you enjoyed this, please please don't hesitate to send me more prompts/asks--for anyone in vnc or ph, but especially for these two!! I love writing for them. You can either send them here, or to my ph and vnc blog @this-idiots-left-eye.

Thanks so much for reading!! Reblogs and comments are especially appreciated!! <3

*

Olivier was having a perfectly satisfactory morning. His coffee smelled just the right shade of black, and was scalding hot—just as he liked it. He brought a book he’d been hoping to read for a while, but hadn’t had the time for recently. He lit a cigarette, and—whatever anyone else said—the smoke was as decadent as any sweet treat from a pastry shop. He was just opening up said book, just bringing the mug to his lips when—

“OLIVER!”

Oliver didn’t jump. Didn’t shout or otherwise react in surprise at the sudden disruption to his morning. Instead, very slowly, he closed the book, very carefully he set down his coffee. He lifted the cigarette and took a long drag, blowing out a substantial wisp of smoke.

And he silently regretted (for what was probably the eightieth time) telling Roland where his favorite coffee shop was.

Roland presently was running up to him, dragging behind him a dazed looking old man, and successfully made it to him by the time he finished his drag.

“Olivier! This poor man has lost his parakeet! He’s looked everywhere and he just can’t find Monsieur Butterbeans! Code blue! Code blue!

“…You know that’s for hospitals, right?”

“Well red just didn’t seem high enough! The situation is dire!”

Olivier blinked, eyes lidded. “Go look for it.”

“Oh Olivier! This simply isn’t a two person job! Two sets of eyes isn’t going to be enough! We simply cannot scour all the skies by ourselves!”

And he was having such a good morning.

“You think I want to spend my afternoon giving myself a crick in the neck?” Olivier asked.

Roland leaned in closer. “I think you want to spend the afternoon helping one of God’s lambs who is in need.” When Olivier stared at him Roland sighed. “If you help...I might just be inclined to work extra hard tomorrow.”

Olivier leaned to the side to look at the old man, who was staring up at the sky, not seeming too bothered. “Where did you lose it?”

“He lost her at the docks!” Roland jumped in—(quite literally jumped in front of him)—and answered for him.

After taking an extra second to try to calculate why a parakeet called ‘Monsieur’ was a ‘she,’ he spoke, perfectly monotone, “So go to the docks.”

“You think we haven’t already tried that! We searched everywhere! She was nowhere to be found!”

“Well if you’ve already searched everywhere—” He began to take another sip of coffee.

“Oh come now, Olivier!” Roland took his arm and shook him, making him both spill some coffee on the table, as well as cough coffee. “What kind of Chasseurs would we be if we gave up helping one of God’s children after one measly search? We’re more determined than that!” He curled his hand into a fist, his eyes sparkling. “Remember the story of the lady and her coins?” He was practically dragging him out of his chair now.

“I don’t think Jesus was talking about parakeets.”

“It’s a parable Olivier, it can be about parakeets if it’s applicable!”

Rather than arguing with him (like he was very much inclined to do) Olivier took another drag from his cigarette and sighed out smoke. “Let me finish my coffee.”

“But Olivier, Monsieur Butterbeans could be halfway up the Seine by now!”

“Let me. Finish. My coffee.” Olivier enunciated each word, staring intently at Roland as he lifted the coffee to his lips.

Roland sighed, and sat down across from him, gesturing to the old man to sit next to him, he obeyed diligently, like he was a pet himself.

Roland folded his hands on the table, and stared at him, with big, imploring eyes, the entire time. Others would have found this more than mildly intimidating, and incentive to drink faster. But Olivier drank his coffee at an ordinary pace, if a little slower than usual. After he was finished he set it down, paid, and left.

If this day was going to be as long as he thought it would be, he wanted to experience it on a full head of caffeine.

They indeed spent all the noon, and half the afternoon searching for her. Olivier tried his best not to look up too much (due to the aforementioned neck-crick potential), but with Roland taking the opportunity every few minutes to slap them both on the shoulders, then point upwards, and shout at shadows, and oddly placed light fixtures, and decorations, “IS THAT HER?!” he couldn’t help looking up.

It was never her.

At one point he was convinced she was nesting in a lady’s hat.

That was also not her.

They had decided to go by the park, and Olivier was just asking why the old man deigned to call a female parakeet “Monsieur” and before the old man could respond, Roland shouted:

“THAT’S HER!”

Olivier, sure it was another false alarm, turned his head with an exasperated sigh building in his throat.

But there was indeed a pretty little parakeet sitting there.

This whole time they thought they would find her nestled in the rafters of some house, or perched on a shop roof, or sign. They had been hoping she wouldn’t find herself too high for them to even see (though Roland had made them climb up building staircases and onto their roofs more than twice).

But there she was, nestled comfortably, not in a tree or on a roof, but on the shoulder of a woman.

More accurately, a mime.

Monsieur Butterbeans was sitting on the shoulder of a mime, and seemed to be having a perfectly pleasant time (ignore the rhyme).

“I mean that simply must be her, right?!” Roland turned to the old man.

The old man nodded vigorously.

Roland’s whole face lit up (though his face was always lit with a sort of angelic glow, so this was a bit of a Moses-and-Mt-Sinai situation) and he was running towards her before they could say a word.

“Salut, Mademoiselle! May I say, you are looking lovely today!”—She waved her hand as if to say, ‘oh stop’—“I simply must thank you!”—She gave an over-exaggerated expression of delight—“That parakeet on your shoulder? She belongs to my friend over there!” He pointed a finger at the old man with the speed and rigidity of a compass needle. “He lost her early this morning!” Roland turned around and was about to march victoriously back, “So thank you so much for—!”

She pretended to make a lasso and swing it around Roland. Even though it was made of nothing more than air, Roland was pulled back.

Olivier put his face in his palm.

He didn’t like mimes on the best of days. They were quiet, which would potentially be a nice quality... if it weren’t for that quietness being, not a means for peace, but rather something to make their interactions with normal-human-beings all that much more frustrating and difficult to discern. And their games with empty air seemed but another reason to disrupt the days of normal natural-world abiding people. They were like vampires…except they couldn’t actually see anything beyond this world, and couldn’t actually alter anything, and they were much more annoying to deal with.

And this one was proving, (as mimes generally did), unable to let them get away without participating in her little farce.

He had a theory that mimes weren’t really there to entertain normal people, rather normal people were there to entertain mimes.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Roland asked.

She held her hand up, and bent her fingers a few times as if to say she would like payment.

“You want a reward?” Roland seemed more than slightly affronted at this. The thought that anyone wouldn’t do a good deed out of the goodness of their heart was nothing short of diabolical to him.

The mimette made several hand motions which, while confusing at first seemed to be her way of conveying that she wasn’t asking for much (Olivier thought that would remain to be seen).

She pondered for a moment with a hand to her chin and squnched up face. Her eyes grazed over the old man, (who had his hands clasped in front of him in a pleading motion), and Olivier (who had folded his arms over his chest, and decided to look away when she looked at him). When he looked back, she was pointing at him.

She pointed at him, then she tapped her finger to her cheek.

Olivier didn’t need an interpreter to understand what that meant.

He recoiled, his voice going low and tense, “I would…prefer another method.”

It’s not like he didn’t know how to kiss a woman, (he’d done a lot more than kiss more than one woman), but this was just—

“Oh it’s just one little kiss, Olivier!” Roland waved his hand. “Do it for Monsieur Butterbeans!” (Monsieur Butterbeans decided to take this opportunity to do the important job of pooping on her shoulder).

Well someone ought to do it.

The mime did the lasso trick again, this time with Olivier. Olivier decidedly did not play along, but she was clearly well-versed in the ways of unparticipatory students, and happy to use the invisible rope to pull herself towards him. (Roland looked delighted with the show).

She got uncomfortably close, put her hands behind her back and presented her cheek.

Olivier looked away, his arms still folded.

Roland still found a way to get in his line of sight, and gave him the thumbs up.

The mimette stood on her tiptoes and blinked her eyelashes repeatedly. She might have been pretty, but who could tell under all that disgusting makeup? ( …Which Olivier did not want on his lips).

“This is ridiculous.” He grunted. “There are other ways to—”

“It’s just one little kiss Olivier!" Roland repeated. "She seems a perfectly nice lady! She deserves it!”

Olivier was not going to humiliate himself for a parakeet, who seemed to rather like this mime anyways.

“Remember, I might just be inclined to work harder tomorrow!”

Olivier sighed, still not looking at her.

“Fine, if you can’t do it, I’ll kiss her!” Roland stepped forward.

“No, no, I’ll do it!” Olivier pinched the bridge of his nose. ”She clearly likes me.” Olivier peeked open an eye to see the mime blinking more profusely, apparently not the least bit offended at his obvious disinterest. (Only more evidence for the normal-people-are-entertainment-fodder-for-the-mimes theory)

“Are you sure? Because you don’t seem like you’re going to do it. It’s really fine if you want me to!”

Olivier took a rather long moment to gather himself, and all the dignity that he knew he was about to lose. He kept his eyes firmly shut…and gave her a peck on the cheek.

…Except, when Olivier opened his eyes, he came to find—(to his absolute horror)—that in the moment he had taken to muster his courage, Roland had decided that Olivier wasn’t going to do it, and went in to kiss her other cheek. The mime recognized this in perfect time, (and in perfect mime fashion), stepped out of the way. So the person who he had kissed was actually….

Olivier jerked away with what almost sounded like a horrified squeak, his hand flying to his mouth. He then turned sharply away, sticking out his tongue, and hacking like a cat who had a hairball.

Roland simply blinked, then began to laugh mirthfully, like he didn’t find the situation the least bit awkward. “Well played, Mademoiselle!” He applauded her.

The mime bowed with a flourish of her hand, and as she lowered herself Monsieur Butterbeans flew off her shoulder and into the hand of her owner, who he then brought up to his own cheek to nuzzle gratefully

“Olivier, your mouth tastes like an ashtray.” Roland remarked as they began to leave—waving his hand and sending an extra thank you towards the mime. “I really hope you don’t smoke before you kiss women. It doesn’t make me want to kiss you again you know.” Roland put his hand on his shoulder.

Olivier flinched violently, snapped equally violently, “Don’t touch me!” and said low, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost I dearly hope it doesn’t.”

Roland just laughed.

“If you even think about mentioning this to anyone—” his glared at him, hoping his eyes were as sharp as he intended them to be.

“I really don’t know what the big fuss is about! It was just a silly prank! And a rather clever one on her part!”

Olivier stuck his tongue out again, feeling like he was going to vomit. “It was a disgusting prank.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll feel insulted! I hope my mouth didn’t taste half as bad as yours did.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Your mouth didn’t taste like anything, because that didn’t happen and we are never talking about it!”

“Well, nothing to complain about is good news I guess!”

“Stop. Talking. About it.”

They had been walking a good way, and the sun was setting over the city, when the old man stopped in front of them, holding Monsieur Butterbeans in front of him, looking down at her lovingly.

“Thank you for helping me find my dear Monsieur Butterbeans,” the old man spoke. (Olivier tried not to shout in surprise at the reveal that he could actually talk). “The Church really does help those in need, doesn’t it? You’re good boys.”—(Olivier would have preferred ‘men’ but)—“I would like to repay you somehow.”

“Oh no, we simply couldn’t accept!” Roland burst out, stepping forward. “A good deed is its own reward! ‘Anything you do for the least of these’ and all! Although, you’re not the least of course! It’s just a verse you know! Well no verse is just a verse, but—”

“I feel I must do something for your…trouble.” (Olivier curled his nose at the slight snicker there was behind the word ‘trouble.’) “At the very least, I have some rather nice vintage wines in my cellar—“

Before Roland could say once again that that-really-wasn’t-necessary, Olivier shot his hand in front of him and said, a little too loudly, “We will gladly accept.”

******

The next day Olivier was leaning back in his chair in front of a rather large stack of paperwork, massaging the crick in his neck when Roland burst in, a little girl hiding behind him.

“OLIVIER!” He panted. “Olivier, this poor girl has lost her favorite doll! We simply must help her!”

Olivier shut his eyes, rubbing his temple, his voice shaking. “You told me you would work harder if I—”

“I will! I will! But this is urgent!”

Olivier sighed. “Astolfo!” He yelled.

After a few moments, a boy with red hair came in.

“You sent for me?”

“Roland has a job for you...(however ridiculous it may be)," he added under his breath. "Will you help find this girl’s doll?” Olivier marched forward, his footsteps ominous on the stone floor, and grabbed Roland’s wrist a little too tight, dragging him into a chair, “Roland here has work to do.”

As Astolfo obliged, Olivier muttered, more to Roland than anyone else, “And he’s not getting out of it this time.”

Roland pouted, plopping down in the chair to properly do his Chasseur work.

...And Olivier couldn’t help but feel like he was having a perfectly satisfactory morning once again.

*

<-Day 6: The Royals

Day 4: Chloé and/or Jean-Jacques->

[gladdygirl18]

Holiday Laughs and Cheer

This was requested by @ticklefiend26. Thx so much 4 the suggestion! I had a blast writing this! Happy Holidays!

Summary: This will be Peter’s first Christmas with the Avengers and another Christmas without his Uncle Ben, so he was kind of feeling a little low on Christmas spirit. Being the father-figure he is, Tony knew exactly how to cheer up the young web-slinging hero.

Word Count: 1769

The Holiday season is finally here. The time for caroling, decorating trees, playing in the snow, and most importantly, spending time with family. The Avengers family is no exception. The Avengers look forward to this time every year. Everyone comes to the facility a week before Christmas to decorate the facility and the tree, buy gifts, and to simply be with one another. Clint, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, and Bucky are on cooking duty. Thor, Rhodey, Tony, Wanda, and Sam are on decorating duty.

Carol couldn’t make it because there was an emergency on another planet, even though she would’ve loved to sing Christmas carols (pun intended); Scott would’ve love to come, but he wanted to spend Christmas with Cassie since he couldn’t for 5 years; T’Challa had a kingdom to rule. There was one Avenger who couldn’t wait to spend Christmas with his teammates, and that was young Peter Parker. Yes, young Peter has been looking forward to this time ever since January. Peter loved everything about the holidays.

However, Peter wasn’t... Peter this time around. He had agreed to help Tony and the others decorate the facility and the tree, but he’s been cooped up in his room all day. No one knows what's eating him and preventing him from leaving his room. The others started to grow worried.

“Where’s the kid? He said he’d help out, and it’s 4 in the afternoon.” Sam asked.

“I have no idea.” Bucky said.

The Falcon looked at the others and they just shrugged their shoulders. Tony let out a sigh and set down a half-wrapped present. Standing up, he cleared his throat and started to leave the room.

“Where are you going, Tony?” Clint asked.

“To look for the kid and make sure he’s all right.” Tony said, leaving the room.

Once Tony was gone, the others looked at one another with faces of concern and worry. When Tony made it to Peter’s room, he knocked on the door and waited for an answer. Nothing. Tony knocked once more. Still nothing. Turning the doorknob, he pushed the door open and was met with a dim-lit room. Scanning the room, Tony saw his protégé laying on his side, his back facing him. Tony breathed out and walked up to the young Avenger.

“Peter...?” Tony asked, shaking the kid’s shoulder.

The kid moaned and shrugged off his mentor’s hand.

“Peter, what’s wrong? You haven’t left your room all day. Everyone’s worried about you; I’m worried about you... Talk to me...” Tony said, sitting on the teen’s bed.

Peter sighed and quickly wiped away the tears that started to form.

“I miss him...” Peter said.

Tony pulled away, wondering who Peter could be talking about.

“Who? Ned? You two talk more than Steve, Sam, and Bucky when they get into an argument.” Tony joked.

Peter didn’t even react to joke. Tony frowned at his failed attempt to brighten the teen’s spirit.

“My Uncle Ben...” Peter muttered.

Tony’s concerned expression quickly turned to a look sympathy. Tony knew good and well about what happened to his uncle, and to not have him during this time of year, again, must be hard. For a short time, Tony felt this way when his parents were killed. Now, he has a new family to call his own, and every day, Tony and the others always try to remind Peter that he is not alone; that he has a place; that he has a home; that he has a family. Now, more than ever, Peter needed this family.

“I know how you feel kid, and I’m sorry. Really, I am.” Tony said, placing a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

Peter breathed out a sigh and shifted his position to get more comfortable. Tony hated seeing him like this. If anything, when it was either him or one of the others, whenever they were upset, just Peter being in their presence will make them smile and forget why they were in a foul mood. Now, it was Tony’s turn to turn this teen’s frown upside-down. Luckily, Tony knew exactly how to do that. He just needed to bait the kid in.

“C’mon, kid. Don’t you wanna help us decorate this place. We could really use your help when it comes to hanging certain decorations,” Tony said.

“Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Stark... I would like to be left alone if that’s all right with you...” Peter said, his voice sounding so sad.

“No, I’m not all right with that... I’ll give you a choice: you either leave this room smiling and help out the others and I, or do I have to make you smile and leave?”

Peter glanced at his mentor and rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“Do your worst...” Peter challenged tiredly.

Tony couldn’t help but smile at Peter’s sassiness. Cracking his knuckles, Tony started poking around the teen’s sides. Peter breathed in sharp and shifted away from Tony’s fingers. Seeing that the kid wasn’t going to crack, Tony started digging his into the kid’s side. Peter buried his face into the pillow he was clutching, all while letting out adorable giggles.

“Mr. Stahahahahark! Stohohop!” Peter said, his words muffled.

“Sorry, kid. Did you say something? I can’t quite understand you.” Tony said, inching his fingers towards Peter’s belly.

Peter squealed and his giggles started becoming louder.

“Honestly, Pete. I really can’t tell if you’re laughing or crying right now.” Tony said with a smug-eating smirk.

Once Tony’s fingers found Peter’s belly, Peter rolled over on his belly to stop the tickling, only trapping Tony’s hand underneath him.

“Bad move, kid...” Tony said.

Taking advantage, Tony straddled the kid and started attacking the kid’s torso. Peter bucked and thrashed, all while producing his signature giggles. At this point, the pillow Peter was clutching was already off the bed.

“Mr. Stahahahahahahark! Plehehehehehehease stohohohohop!” Peter cried.

“No way, mister. I’m gonna make sure that smile of yours is plastered on your face for the rest of the evening while you’re helping out.” Tony said, kneading the kid’s hip bone.

Peter yelped and tried to buck Tony off.

“That feheheheheheels sohoho weird! Stohohop ihihit!” Peter begged.

“Are you gonna leave this dreadful room and come join me and the others?” Tony asked.

When Peter didn’t answer, Tony took his silence as a no. Sighing, Tony stopped his assault and looked down at the young hero.

“Didn’t want to have to do this to you, kid, but you leave me no choice.” Tony said.

Peter panted as he glanced up at his mentor.

“W-Whahahat can behehe worse thahan tickling?” Peter asked, giggles escaping his lips.

Tony smirked and was able to flip the kid around on his back.

“I think you know...” Tony said.

Peter sighed and shook his head tiredly. That’s when Peter let out a loud shriek before letting out gales of precious laughter.

“NOHOHOHO! NOHOHOT MY ARMPIHIHIHIHITS! STAHAHAHAP!” Peter cried.

“Sorry, Pete, but it’s for your own good.” Tony said as he clawed at the kid’s armpits.

Peter thrashed all around the bed trying to escape, but his laughter was making him weak.

“MR. STAHAHAHARK! PLEHEHEHEASE!” Peter begged.

“Ah-ah-ah. No can do, Spiderman. I wanna hear you say that you’ll spend time with the others and I. Say that, and I’ll stop,” Tony said.

“IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T!”

“Why’s that now?”

“BEHEHECAHAHAUSE!”

“Because what?”

When Peter didn’t answer, Tony slipped his fingers through Peter’s T-shirt sleeves and started attacking the flesh underneath. Peter fell limp with laughter. He didn’t even have the strength to thrash around.

“STAHAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEHEASE! NOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!” Peter begged.

“Did you say you wanted more? Well, since you asked so nicely...” Tony said.

Dipping his head down, Tony blew a huge raspberry on Peter’s belly that had been exposed due to the thrashing. Peter gave a wild buck and let out a new stream of laughter, his face turning a bright red.

“NAHAHAHA! THAT’S NOT FAHAHAHAIR! STAHAHAHAP IT!” Peter said.

“Kid, when it comes to tickling, anything and everything is fair.” Tony said before letting loose another raspberry.

Peter flopped around like a fish out of water. If Tony didn’t stop, he was surely going to pass out. Peter soon realized why Tony was really tickling him. Not only was he cheering him up, but he was also reminding him that even when he feels alone, the Avengers, his family, was there for him, day, and night.

“OKAY, OKAHAHAHAHAHAY! I’LL HEHEHEHEHELP! JUST STAHAHAHAP!” Peter laughed.

“You promise...?” Tony asked, clawing at the armpit flesh.

Peter threw his head back and let out a new stream of laughter that was louder than the last. Now this was the Peter Parker Tony had grown to know and love. Smiling and laughing without a care in the world. Seeing him frowning and crying, it just didn’t sit right with him or any of the other Avengers.

“YEHEHEHEHES! OH, GOHOHOHOD YEHEHEHES! I PROHOHOHOMISE! JUST STAHAHAHAP! I CAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIT!” Peter cried.

Tony released one more raspberry before stopping completely. Tony hopped off Peter and started down at his smiling and panting protégé. Chuckling, Tony opened the door and looked back at the kid.

“You have five minutes. Otherwise, I’ll come back with Sam, Bucky, and Clint.” Tony warned before leaving the room.

Peter sat up and panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. Looking up, he smiled with a tear in his eye.

“Happy Holidays, Uncle Ben...” he said softly.

Wiping away the tears, Peter freshened up before heading into the common room. When he arrived, he saw Rhodey struggling to get a decoration on the ceiling. Smiling, Peter walked over to help.

“Let me.” Peter said.

Rhodey smiled down at the teen and gave him the decoration. Flipping on the ceiling, Peter was able to hang the decoration and hold it in place with his webbing.

“Thanks, kid.” Rhodey said.

Peter gave War Machine a quick salute before coming down from the ceiling. Walking into the common room, Peter began helping the others, just like he said he would.

“So, what did you tell him to get out?” Bucky asked.

“If he didn’t get his lazy butt out of bed, I would’ve called you, Sam, and Clint for help.” Tony said with a wink.

Bucky looked at the kid who was helping Wanda hanging ornaments on the tree and smiled.

“I’m still willing to help...” Bucky said with a sly grin.

One thing’s for sure, whether you feel like you’re alone, you will always have your family for support. Peter had forgotten that, but thanks to Tony, he remembered that he has this amazing family will never leave him.

✨🎄🎁From my family to yours, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!🎁🎄✨

[descriptive-tickles]

This story came from a series I wanted to do called ‘around the world in 80 tickles’ to this day this is the only entry so I could be keen to bring the series back! And make more entries..

This first one takes place with the UK. My home! And puts you in the centre of the experience. Please do enjoy and any tips or ideas for destinations and tickling experiences to represent those countries do leave me a cheeky comment.

Other than that - enjoy...

Location: BUCKINGHAM PALACE, LONDON, ENGLAND:

Your first stop on this journey of laughter, and you are standing in front of one of the most iconic building in the whole of the capital city. The fountain in front stands majestically, the water flowing as tourists stand before it, camera flashes coming from every direction.

You walk along the fence surrounding the residence, as you do you watch the changing of the guard. The ceremony takes only a few minutes but it is done with military precision as a new set of guards stand on watch. Soon they are surrounded by tourists posing for photos beside them as they keep their focused expressions.

You have heard the rumour that whatever happens, they are not allowed to react or move from their position. You watch as people pull faces in front of them, tell jokes, kiss them or in extreme cases, exposing themselves to them but they hold firm, as their duty binds them. As the crowds continues, you want to give it a try yourself but you just can't get close enough - so you plan to return later when you'll get your chance:

A few hours pass and you find yourself walking down the street directly in front of Buckingham Palace. It's getting towards early evening and the sun is going down. The sky a painting of yellow and red as the sun begins to set. You can see a final coach of visitors pass you just as you stand beside the fountain once more and now it's you alone standing before Buckingham Palace, just one or two commuters travelling home after a day in the office.

The changing of the guard has been repeated several times throughout the day and you spot your target. You rub your hands together eagerly, your chance was finally here as you walked into his shadow. You watch as his eyes switch to your direction as you approach from his left hand side but he says nothing. You walk around him to the right hand side just to see what happens - no response, the guard has only flicked his eyes to keep you in his sights.

So you try to call him out - "There's no one around, no one will know you moved. Just for me" you say sweetly, getting as close leaning gently against him. You manage to get a small smirk as your offer appears to be running across his mind, however, that's all you get. "If you don't move, I'll have to bring out my big guns" you say still leaning against him,he rolls his eyes still standing silent and defiant. "I warned you" you say with a grin of your own as your run your hands against the outside of the red uniform digging your fingers in... "ha!"

Your eyes widen, and you poke consecutively again... "HA HA HA!"

"I did it, I did it" you cry, you watch this guard and authority figure struggling against your tickling fingers. You turn in a sense of achievement but that's when you feel two hands land on your sides from behind you - perhaps you've celebrated too soon ;)

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

Being held in a tight hold your surprised to notice it's the guard. In your mind your still overjoyed that your tactics had been successful, this guard had moved even more. But, this was instinctive. You didn't know you had awoken a tickler from his slumber, but you were certainly about to find out.

Pulled in close you feel a warm breath across your ear, "so, you found a weakness of mine did you. Bravo, I haven't moved on position ever. However, I wonder if you share a similar weakness" he whispers. The softness of his British accent, teasing in tone added a new level to this position. Your mind flustered by firstly, being held unexpectedly and now you were worrying about your own ticklish vulnerabilities and their eventual discovery.

Isn't it ashame that you only decided to wear a thin t-shirt as it was a warm British evening.

As your start to feel the hands begin poking into your sides, your tormentor smiles behind you. "You'll regret making me move like that, and it'll be just us. I'm on guard for another 30 minutes before anyone comes to take my place. So we have plenty of time to expose your ticklishness" he teased once more as he watched you struggle before him. His grip on you only seemed to tighten. His strong arms surrounding you as he holds you up against his chest.

You might want to collapse into fits of laughter but that's not an option, the fingers run from your soft sides down to your hips starting to dig into them and your laughter becomes music to the guards ears. "So, you are ticklish? wonderful" he says, his mind a stream of ideas. What was a simple act for you had turned into quite the scenario and you know you have a whole 30 minutes to endure. You only poked him for about 10 seconds total.

As your time in the guard's grip ticks on, the tickling increases once more. As you wriggle in position side to side, your t-shirt begins to work against you. Lifting itself up as your tummy now meets the soft breeze. This of course didn't go unnoticed by the guard. "Oh, would you look at that, is your tummy feeling left out?" he asked, fingers wriggling across it quickly from side to side. "Tickle Tickleeeeeee" he sings, his fingers effortlessly working their way across your bare skin once more.

"Looks like you're more ticklish than me" the guard stops for a moment, giving you a breather. "It makes me wonder why you would try to tickle someone when you clearly have such a weakness to it yourself" and as he said that, his fingers wriggled before your tummy menacingly. You look down to see them perilously close, as you try to suck your tummy in. "That won't save you" he whispered, demonstrated how in control of you he is as he tickles ferociously again.

A finger drops inside your bellybutton and now he uses this as a chance to target two spots at once. Starting with the combination of your navel and hip bone as he swithces quickly to your tummy and sides. Esch time you think you know what he's going to do, he switches it up again.. You can plan, or preset your reactions, each touch is unexpected and you are puty in the arms of a British tickler teasing your physically as well as mentally and your fluster is clear to see...

Finally he releases you and moves back to position. Moments later you watch wide eyed as the new changing of the guard occurs before you. He salutes and marches off. But not before a cheeky glance your way, as he winks in your direction.. A ticklish spike runs through your tummy in response and you head off into the night to remember your first ticklish adventure!

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

Well, there we are. Your first ticklish adventure in your around the world in 80 tickles! But, from here - where do you go next?

I would love to see suggestions in the comments, or if you prefer feel free to leave it in a comment. Let me know also what ticklish scenario you might end up in whilst in this country... All ideas welcome!

[sunshinecrashed]

Hiya! I saw you wrote for Haikyuu! Could um.. could I get HCs on how Nishinoya, Kageyama and Kenma would react to reader breaking her leg after chasing the ball for them? Maybe Tsuki to (idk how many you’ll do lol). I love your works!! Thankyou!! ❤️❤️❤️

ɴɪsʜɪɴᴏʏᴀ, ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ, ᴋᴇɴᴍᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ s/ᴏ ᴡʜᴏ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴇɢ

warnings: breaking a leg lol

↳ a/n: ....i have no excuse for how late this was. i wholeheartedly thank u for ur patience bb :) 💛 lmk if there is anything i can do to make up for it, im all ears 🥺

⋆──────☆──────⋆

nishinoya yuu

 as soon as he hears your pained cry, he’s at your side in an instant.

 would probably scream at tanaka to do something, to which tanaka just panics and sprints off to find someone

 once help is on the way, he’s kind of laying you on his lap and supporting your injured leg

 even in the midst of your haze, you can feel noya’s leg stuttering up and down with nervous energy

 his hands would comb through your hair in an attempt to distract you from the pain 

 he might weakly crack a joke or two, but his goal isn’t only to reassure you; he’s also trying to reassure himself.

 after what seemed like a lifetime to him, a nurse is finally arriving to properly put you on a stretcher

 ...noya audibly lets out a shaky sigh

 you’ll be okay. he will make sure of that.

“listen to me; you’re not alone in this. just try to relax, and tell me what’s on your mind, ‘kay?”

⋆──────☆──────⋆

kageyama tobio

oh, kageyama would be immediately overreacting, without a doubt. 

 how could he not? 

 that terrible crack just kept playing back in his mind like a broken record.

it’s like his body won’t move how he wants it to; he’s frozen.

 but once kageyama snaps out of it, his mind would be racing with how to fix this situation. find a solution as soon as possible. 

 hinata would probably take the brunt of his anxious rambling :( 

kageyama made a mental note to make it up to him later, but right now he just needed someone to go get someone to help you. 

 when he approaches you, it’s almost like he’s too scared to touch you at first. 

he’s worried that if he even lays a finger on you, you would just fall apart.

 while he’s battling with himself, you just let out deep breaths and slip your hand into his grasp, squeezing it tightly. 

 his natural reflex is to squeeze back, so that’s what he chooses to do.

“okay, keep your breathing steady. hinata should be back soon. you’re strong, i know you are, so hang in there for me.”

⋆──────☆──────⋆

kozume kenma 

kenma rarely loses his cool, but when it came to hearing the snap of your leg, his mind just went over the worst case scenarios before he could stop himself. 

he brushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came and nodded over to kuroo, who gives kenma a salute as he jumps into action

kenma is supporting your back as you lean into him, and at first glance, his demeanor is steady and collected. 

that couldn’t be farther from his true emotions. 

 knows that he can’t show his panic and worry; he has to stay stay calm.

for you. 

kenma is determined to be a boyfriend that you can rely on and trust to the fullest.

oh, how badly he wishes to take your pain away. 

“only a little bit longer, [name]. tell me how i can help,” 

⋆──────☆──────⋆

tsukishima kei

his first thought is, ‘this can’t be happening’

earlier in your relationship with him, tsuki would be somewhat distant and would refrain from getting too attached in case it ended up hurting him in the end. but with enough patience and cherishing from you, he was able to learn how to gain more confidence in himself. 

and for that, he is forever grateful to you. 

so when he see’s that you need his help, he pushes any negative emotions away, only focusing on what he can do to comfort you. 

tsuki would totally let you crawl onto his back and carry you all the way to the nurses office. 

it kinda makes you want to get injured more often to see this side of him come out. jk jk.. unless?

just don’t tease him about it later, because then he’ll get all stubborn and be like “alright. i guess next time you break your leg, i’m going to laugh at you instead.”

[mxpseudonym]

Tea for two

Pairing: Tommy x Reader (femme) and Ada’s here too

Summary: You can tell a man loves you by how he’s willing to take his tea.

Length: 898 words (allegedly)

Warnings: None. Funny!

A/N: Can you believe I forgot I wrote this?? (Hellooo??!?)

--

Ada knew Tommy was in love with you before you did. Then again, you would come to learn that, like Polly, Ada somehow knew everything.

"Alright, I have tea the way you both like it," you announced as you walked into Ada's parlor with a tray. The fact that you had even convinced Tommy to make an unplanned stop in London to visit his sister was almost enough to spill the secret about your feelings.

"Ada, one sugar and lemon. Tommy, two sugars and milk," you noted each cup as you sat it in front of them, each of them saying thank you before you headed back to the kitchen. Tommy sat adjacent to Ada, his eyes on the paper though he could feel his sister's pointed stare.

"Hm," Ada made an overly confused face as she pretended to think. "Tommy,"

"Fuck off."

"I do believe that you have never taken milk in your tea, nor sugar," Ada said, a hint of whimsy in her voice as if she were accessing her memory. She tapped her finger against her chin. "I'd even go as far as to say, you hate milk in your tea."

"Ada," Tommy said her name with a warning, which held no merit to his sibling, not when she had leverage.

"You hate milk in general."

"That's not true."

"Drink it," Ada challenged, motioning to the milky cup. Tommy gave her a look. He couldn't just not drink it. Picking it up, Tommy lifted it in cheers and took a sip. Sickening, it was. There was a thickness he didn't appreciate, and the sharpness he was used to was gone. All around awful.

"That's good," he said with a shrug and placed it back.

"You should tell that to your face because you look like you're ready to toss it out the window," Ada informed her big brother. This was too good.

"I enjoy the way y/n makes my tea," he said definitively before looking back at his paper. Ada looked down at her book with a smirk.

"I'm telling Polly," she said. He lifted his head in exasperation.

"Telling Polly what exactly? That I've come around to milk in my tea?"

"Since fucking when?"

"Since for a while," he spluttered his answer and again shrugged. Really it was since dinner with Esme and John. You'd brought Tommy his cup of tea and, rather than tell you he hated it, he drank it diligently without a word. Maybe he even added a hum of approval, which led to you squeezing his hand and giving him that look. Tommy didn't know that Esme had told you that was how he liked it, and neither of you knew she had been joking. Unfortunately, this led to you taking the recipe as fact, Tommy forcing down sugary, watery milk, and everyone being aware why. Except for the two of you, of course.

It only took a moment of silence before Ada began humming the wedding march. He rolled his eyes and tried to glance around the corner to make sure you weren't coming around.

"Would you stop?"

"Now that you're in love, do you think you'll be less of a pain in my ass?"

"I cannot believe,"

"I have biscuits!" You came back into the room cheerily, and they immediately shut up. You noted the silence as you sat. "What's wrong?"

"Funny story about Tommy, y/n, he actually doesn't," Ada began.

"Doesn't mind the opera after all," he interrupted his sister. Tommy was not letting this reveal happen. What if you gave him the same kind of look you gave John when he told a joke too unsavory? Tommy couldn't take it. Ada had to bite her tongue to stop herself from reacting. You looked at him in surprise.

"Oh? Did you want me to get those tickets?" You asked slowly, wondering why the change of heart but also if you could even get ahold of the tickets your boss had offered since you'd already said no. Ada dramatically clasped her hands together and fully turned to Tommy, her eyes watering with how ready she was to see this.

"Well," Tommy began, picking up his tea, "Only if you could still get them."

"Alright, I'll ask tomorrow," you told him.

"Could I actually just have some water, love?" Ada asked you, and you were up in a moment, always ready to be a good hostess. Ada and Tommy watched you walk away before talking. "What. The."

"Stop it," Tommy shook his head.

"HELL are you doing, Tommy? She's going to find out and, while I pray that God grants me the one blessing of being there when it happens, she'll wonder why you've been torturing yourself." Ada pouted at him in pity then wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "Can't you just admit it?"

"Fine," he said. "I love her. I love her, and I will tell her when I'm ready. If I have to drink swill,"

"Swill!" Ada cackled at the word choice for a proper tea.

"So be it. You will not say anything."

"Yes, Captain," Ada saluted him, still laughing when you came back with water for everyone. He flinched as he took another sip of tea, but hardly noticed when you smiled in his direction and started telling Ada about Ruddigore.

He'd tell you one day, and you'd all have a good laugh.