First of all hi! Iâm Ellie đ Iâm 26, English is not my first language and this is a tickle blog so if you donât like it youâve now been warned đŤśđť
Iâm inconsistent and canât handle a schedule, so if youâre okay with this energy, well welcome!
Requests are currently closed
If you sent me a request and it hasnât been filled Iâm probably not inspired at the moment but donât lose faith: I might still fulfil it in the future (it might take a week, a month, a year, but believe in me pls).
If you want to send me headcanons or vent or write anything my inbox and dms are always open, just be respectful please đ
Having said that, I hope you all like it here, grab a pillow, a hot chocolate and some soft blanket and enjoy this chaotic place. đ
Masterlist â¨
Here are my fics đ if you have any criticism or suggestion feel free to message me! English is not my first language so if you spot any mistake just tell me!
Although all my fics are pretty much sfw youâll find anything even remotely spicy or explicit signalled next to the title and in the fic itself.
As I said, I want this to be a safe space so if thereâs anything bothering you just say it and Iâll do my best to fix it!
Have a nice reading!
Hazbin Hotel
A sparkle in the night (Lee!Vox, Ler!Alastor)
A silent pact of silence (Lee!Lucifer, Ler!Alastor)
Marvel
Spiderman
You canât run away from yourself Part 1 | Part 2 (Lee!Peter3, Ler!Peter2)
Moon Knight
Prompt: âIâm quite comfortable over here, but thank you.â (Lee!Steven Ler!Marc)
Prompt: âIâd like to see you try.â (Ler!Jake Lee!Marc a bit of Ler!Steven)
Prompt: âMake me.â (Ler!Marc Lee!reader)
Prompt: âAre you - oh my god you are.â (Ler!Layla Lee!Marc)
My Hero Academia
Just let it go Kiribaku (Switch!Bakugou switch!Kirishima)
4 a.m. DabiHawks (Lee!Hawks Ler!Dabi) (mention of sex, nothing explicit)
Art â¨
I sometimes draw! Iâm still not very comfortable sharing my drawings since I find them a bit more personal but Iâm looking for validation so if you like them please say so đđ
Don't refer to the roles as lee and ler. I think it takes the reader out of the scene, as the community has made these words up. There are better terms to use anyways. Also, by not using these, people from outside the community reading your fics won't be confused.
Every time a new person talks, MAKE A NEW PARAGRAPH. This is for all fics, but I see this a lot with tickle fics as there is a lot of dialogue switching. If I see a block of text that is half one character laughing and the other half is the other person talking, I'm not gonna read your fic.
I dig when some people write people laughing in all caps, but use it sparingly. Reading all caps for longer than a sentence makes the brain disassociate and I can't read anymore. It's a fun technique, but use it when it's needed.
This is a personal pet peeve of mine, but you don't have to follow it if you don't want to. Not everyone needs to do baby talk. If you have a character that is quieter or stoic that is tickling someone, they probably won't do much of baby talk. Make sure your character teases are appropriate and in character, unless you intend for them not to be.
There are so many different forms of laughter, but a lot of them aren't interchangeable. Envision what you think the laughter will sound like, and base your writing on that. But don't forget to have fun with it.
Writing is supposed to be fun. If you're writing fics and it feels like a chore for you, take a break. Write when you feel like it.
Take the prompts you want. If you get a prompt that isn't very descriptive, toss it or get more info. Make sure the person submitting the prompt knows what they want so you know what they want.
That's all I have. I've been in this community as a reader since 2013 and a writer since 2016. This is some of my knowledge in writing and just reading these fics. Feel free to share/reblog this. There are a lot of new writers so I figured I could give some fun advice, but no need to take this seriously if you don't want to!
Adding this as it is Tickletober and there are so many fun fics and writers out and about this month:
I am a certified English and college essay tutor. If you want help with your writing, either proofreading or just general feedback, please reach out. I am happy to help you be the best writer you can be!
- An older adult solely hanging with younger teens (Iâm talking 25yo & 15yo) and who doesnât seem to have any other adult friend is a red flag.
- An older adult talking to a younger teen and saying stuff like âyouâre the only one who understands meâ âIâd hurt myself if you werenât thereâ âYouâre my only friendâ is a red flag.
- Someone (regardless of age) who constantly ends up in discourse & drama is a red flag.
- If youâre afraid to talk to your friend(s), if you feel like youâve got to tiptoe as to not set them off and get yelled at/ostracized/worse, thatâs a red flag.
pairing: ryland grace x reader (intended as platonic)
summary: it really wasn't your fault that ryland's reactions were so entertaining. what else were you supposed to do.
warnings: no use of y/n, gn reader, ler!reader, lee!grace - but also switch!reader and switch!grace, reader is a fiend and a menace, ryland is cutieful (until he isn't)
word count: 2.3k
authors notes: sickos at window meme yess ha ha ha YESS!
///
Ryland had that look in his eyes.
You've started calling it The Hopeful Fear, on account of how it made his ears pink and his shoulders tense.
You glanced at him sideways from your spot by the taumoeba samples.
He was hunched over the microscope, seemingly focused on the slide, but his hand had a slight tremor to it. You've seen it enough times to not be worried. It wasn't anxiety, but excitement.
As if sensing you looking, Ryland lifted his head away from the miscroscope by a fraction. The look he gave you was quick, and very telling.
Well, you supposed, you could help with that.
You pushed away from your samples and walked over to where Ryland was sitting. Casual, relaxed, hands in your pockets. You stopped at his shoulder, just slightly behind him, and leaned in a little.
"How's it going?" You asked, keeping your voice light and unassuming.
"Well," Ryland said, fiddling with the slide under the microscope nervously. "It hates nitrogen. But we already knew that."
"Nothing new, then?" You leaned in a little closer, still. Ryland shot you a quick look at the proximity.
"No. I'm afraid not." He sighed, hand drifting to fiddle with a stray pen on the lab table.
"Hm." You hummed idly.
Ryland kept still, not leaning away, but not coming closer either.
With a swift movement, you connected your mouth to the side of his neck and blew a quick, sharp raspberry against his skin.
The yelp that left him - loud and undignified - had you grinning.
He tumbled off his stool, to his feet, tripping in his hurry to get away from you. He turned to look at you, hand braced against the table, the other raised halfway up in front of him. Just in case you meant to follow him.
You straightened, and stayed put.
"Why-" He stuttered. His ears were getting pink.
"Hm?" You raised your eyebrows, feinging ignorance.
"Wh-" His eyes flickered back and forth between your face and your hands, which were still in your pockets. "What was that for?"
You shrugged. "You looked like you needed it."
Ryland's ears turned redder.
He was just starting to stutter out denials and accusations - something like: "you couldn't possibly know such a thing", and: "what does that even mean, that makes no sense!" - when your taumoeba samples chirped from their analysis machine. You turned your head to look at the blinking yellow light. You turned back to Ryland. He had stood up straight, but still had The Hopeful Fear flittering about his face.
"Duty calls." You said simply, turning on your heel to get to your samples.
You snapped a pair of gloves on, and got to work, carefully extracting the taumoeba samples from the machine. After a moment, you heard Ryland shuffle back to his seat.
You pretended not to notice him watching you.
@
Ryland and Rocky were bickering.
Ryland stood in front of Rocky's tunnel, the one that led through the corridor and was at about Ryland's head-height. He had his hands planted firmly on his hips, assuming his full Teacher Persona.
"Rocky, I just don't think it's a good idea." He said.
"Is good idea." Rocky replied, simply.
"Rock, buddy-"
"Grace stupid, statement."
"Hey!" Ryland's voice shifted into Scolding A Middle Schooler tone. "You can't call someone stupid just because they have a different opinion than you."
"Why, question?"
"Because it's rude."
"But is true. Grace stupid."
"I should put you in time out." Ryland threatened.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid."
You curled your fist in front of your mouth to cover up your laughter. You must not have been very successful, because Ryland whirled onto you with a pointed finger.
"Don't make me put you in time out, too." He said firmly. "Don't encourage him."
"You need to lighten up." You said, crossing your arms and leaning against the edge of the doorway.
"I'll 'lighten up' when he-" Ryland pointed upwards at Rocky "- comes to his senses."
"No, no, no Rocky senses, all correct," Rocky immediately argued, shaking his body in emphasis. "Grace senses stupid, leaky space blob no understand, stupid, stupid, stupid."
"I'm done here." Ryland threw his hands up and made his way to the doorway. "I'm not dealing with this."
You wrapped your arm around the front of his middle as he walked past you. He stopped, even though he could have easily kept on walking, and looked at you. He was frustrated, you could see that, but underneath that frustration was something more fragile.
"You need to lighten up." You repeated, maintaining eye contact.
He huffed. "That's not really helpf-UL-AGH!"
He folded in half, grunting, hands wrapping around your forearms. You kept squeezing at his wasit.
"I'll let you go if you laugh." You said, taking a step closer to get better leverage.
"Hhmmgh." Ryland responded, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Yes, yes, yes, make Grace laugh, statement." Rocky chimed in from his perch. "Make less stupid, statement."
"Hear that?" You turned to Ryland. "It'll do you good."
"No, it - hrrgh - won't!" He choked out, twitching against your hands, but making no other moves to escape.
"Come on!" You drawled, shifting your hands up to his ribs. "Laughter is the best medicine."
"That's pseudosciehehence!" Ryland gave in to giggling, high and hiccup-y.
"Actually," You said, digging further up under Ryland's arms to get at his underarms. "It's been proven that laughter helps relieve stress and boost immunity."
Ryland ducked his head close to his chest and let out a desparate whine.
You smirked. "But you already knew that."
"Okay, okahay!" Ryland's hands tighened on your arms, pinning them to your sides, effectively stopping your attack.
You watched him try to compose himself, smiling. He took a few deep breaths, and when he lifted his head, it wasn't with a glare, but another look of The Hopeful Fear.
You grinned knowingly.
"Quiet." He mumbled, pink all over, and released you. You turned to look at him over your shoulder as he stalked further through the Hail Mary.
@
You were in the pilot's seat, checking your trajectory, when you heard him.
"What the fudging - fudger -!"
You frowned, and whipped your head around to look behind you. Of course, you wouldn't have been able to see him, but you narrowed your eyes anyway, listening in closely.
There was a dull thump. Then another.
"What the heck is wrong with this - piece of - poop - !"
Okay.
If Ryland was PG-swearing at this intensity, something was not right.
You swivelled the pilot chair and climbed out. It took a few moments to locate him, given that he had suddenly fallen deathly silent, and no more thumping emerged from the depths of the ship. In the end, you found him in the lab.
There were two packs scattered near his feet, and Ryland himself was standing by an open hatch in the wall, his back to you. He was straining, reaching up as high as he could. He was even standing on tiptoes.
You paused. He hadn't noticed you.
"You okay over there?"
He startled, arms shooting down, torso twisting around to look behind him. Once he realised it was you, he let out a soft breath.
"There's extra test tubes in there." He explained, pointing up to the hatch. "I can't reach it."
You stepped fully into the room, a few paces away from where he stood. "You're, like, six feet tall." You observed. "How can you not reach something?"
"Oh, ha-ha." He made a face at you, voice dripping with sarcasm.
You waved your hand at him. "Don't let me interrupt."
He scoffed, but turned back to the hatch, reaching his arms up as far as they could go. The hem of his tshirt rose with the movement, exposing a sliver of skin on his abdomen. You looked at it, then glanced up at his face to confirm his focus on the task at hand.
Silently as possible, you side-stepped until you were behind Ryland, and wrapped your arms securely around his waist.
"Oh? What's going on-HEY!"
You scribbled your nails over the exposed skin of his navel. His arms shot down immediately in an attempt to shield himself. High pitched, wheezy laughter shook his body.
"Why do you dohoho thihis?" He complained, fingers scrabbling at your hands. His back pressed into your face slightly as he bent forward. You rested your cheek fully against his shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of his skin through his tshirt.
"Well, I like to do it." You shrugged a little. "I enjoy it."
Ryland twisted sharply, successfully disentangling himself from your embrace. You stumbled a little at his sudden movement.
Ryland had pressed his back tightly against the wall.
"Not a step closer." He ordered around a lingering smile and the ghost of a giggle.
You grinned, but stayed put at his request, even though the distance between you was that of only a few steps.
The Hopeful Fear was back in his eyes.
"I'm not sure you mean that." You said and, yeah, maybe you added a bit of a teasing lilt to your voice. It was worth it for the blush that rose in Ryland's face.
"Your days are numbered." He declared, raising his finger in warning.
You watched him with a grin as he shuffled sideways, back still pressed to the wall, watching you carefully, until he was far enough away to bolt.
@
It had been a hard day that had you and Ryland nearly spiralling into a full blown fight. Stress, close proximity, the weight of responsibility, being stuck in space. Sometimes the two of you got emotional.
Thankfully, you had figured out a protocol for days like these.
So, after wrapping up work as soon as voices became raised, the two of you settled into the routine.
Step one, go to the opposite ends of the ship to cool off.
Step two, talk it out.
Step three, food.
Step four, sleep.
Here you were, yours and Ryland's mattresses shoved together on the floor to make more space, tangled in every spare blanket, bodies close. Your feet tangled together loosely. You lay on your side, arm draped over Ryland's stomach. He was stretched out on his back, hand curled loosely around your knee where he had pulled your leg up over his. His breathing was deep and even.
You couldn't sleep.
Ryland's fingers curled lightly against the underside of your knee, tracing a delicate line over the skin there. Suddenly, you regretted wearing shorts to bed.
You stayed still, giving no indication that you felt his movement. Or that you were awake.
After a moment, the movement repeated.
You opened your eyes to look at him. His face was turned slightly towards you, eyes closed, expression relaxed. You closed your eyes again, burying your face deeper against your pillow.
Ryland was always a little twitchy, and that didn't stop when he was asleep. You had gotten used to his movements during sleep. For the most part. This was new.
Tap.
You frowned.
Tap, tap.
Was he tapping his finger into the curve of your knee?
Carefully - in case he really was asleep - you tilted your head back to look at him again.
His eyes were still closed, but now there was a smirk on his face.
"You-!" Your accusation got cut short, because the moment you spoke, Ryland was rolling himself on top of you, face burying into your neck to blow a long, drawn-out raspberry.
You would never admit to the sound you made at the sensation.
Ryland pulled back to look at you. "Vengeance."
"Oh, come on." You complained. "You needed that tickling and you know it."
"Did I?" He challenged, fingers resuming their tracing under your knee. Instinctively, you bent your leg, trapping his fingers. You didn't like the look on his face.
"Don't you know that when you seek revenge, you're only really hurting yourself?" You tried to reason. Ryland pursed his lips in mock sympathy.
He pulled his fingers from where they were trapped by your leg, and brought his hand up to your face. He took your jaw into his hand with a firm grip, maneouvering your head so that more of your neck was exposed.
He started leaning down.
"No, no, no- wait- Ryland-" Your pleading fell on deaf ears. You felt his stubble first, then cool air as he inhaled deeply. You grabbed hold of his wrist, your other hand gripping at the back of his hair.
He blew another long raspberry into your neck.
You scream-laughed. You were human enough to admit it.
But then he didn't pull back. Only started inhaling again. You closed your eyes, already feeling phantom tickling, laughter bubbling out of you.
This time, he blew three short raspberries one right after another.
Your legs kicked out against the mattress, one kicking him in the shin. You let go of his hair in favour of slapping your palm against his back repeatedly.
Ryland backed off only a fraction, still close enough that you felt his stubble. The breath of his laughter against your neck tickled nearly as bad. He released his grip on your jaw, instead using that hand to gently scratch behind your ear comfortingly.
You panted, dazed, staring up at the ceiling in the low light.
With one last, split-second of a raspberry that had you squawking, Ryland rolled off you.
"Remember this next time you hunt me down with tickling." He said.
"Next time," you informed him. "I'm making you admit you wanted me to do it."
You both turned your heads against your pillows, challenging each other with a look.
In the end, it was Ryland who caved, scoffing to cover up his blush and throwing an arm around you. You let him pull you in, hiding your own blush by tucking your head underneath his chin.
Synopsis: There are many things infinitely more interesting than troubleshooting DNA purification. It's no wonder you take the first opportunity to do something else when Grace provides you with a convenient distraction. Based on this request and this headcanon
A/n: heyyy sorry this took so long, I'm having an exhausting week, but trust I am writing these as fast as I can, love you all dearly <3 hope this is alright, I really struggled to conclude it gracefully (haha).
"Augh- Ryland!" You scrunch up your shoulders, and glare at Grace, who has snuck up behind you and run his finger up the back of your neck as a greeting. He's recently discovered you're ticklish, and thus has thus been treating you like some kind of giggly stress ball.
Grace ignores your protest, and pulls up a chair next to you, glancing at the lab notebooks strewn everywhere.
"How's it going over here?"
"Not bad, thanks to your amazing work." You motion to the many calculations he's helped you with on the whiteboard - predictions for various aspects of the Taumoeba's metabolism. It involves a lot of diagrams and balancing a lot of equations. He flushes a little, muttering something about it being "just undergrad level". One of these days, you'll get him to just take a fucking compliment. Alas, today is not that day.
You turn to face the workbench, where several test tube racks are shoved behind your laptop, which in turn holds a lot of depressing readouts from the spectrophotometer.
"Having a little trouble with some stubborn protein contaminants. Look at this."
You point at your screen. Ryland squints, clearly unable to parse the tiny font from his lab stool. You roll your eyes.
"Ugh. Come here-" You grab his glasses from where they're hanging by his chin, and start sliding them into place. It's such a thoughtless gesture that you're already turning to continue your explanation before they're fully on.
Except you're interrupted by a giggle.
You turn back around, glancing at your hands, which still hold his glasses...but Ryland is no longer attached to them. He's shrunk back, a small grin tugging at his lips, one hand covering his ear.
"Surely not..." You mutter. "Don't tell me your ears are ticklish."
"I...won't tell you that, then." He murmers, which is a confession in itself.
He knows this. You can see him thinking it through, the same way you are. A second passes, and the two of you lock eyes.
...He bolts. Predictable.
You give chase, scrambling after him down the corridor as he starts shouting platitudes over his shoulder.
"Listen, hey, we don't have to do this-"
"We absolutely do!"
"Nope! Not happening!" He careens around a corner, nearly tripping over his own feet. By the time you catch up, the corridor appears empty. Perhaps he's gone into a side room.
Of course. The door to the wellness room is slightly open. You hold your breath, and sneak towards the entrance, pulling yourself against the wall so he can't see you coming.
One...two...three.
You throw open the door, and sure enough, Ryland is hiding on the other side. He shrieks, but it's too late. He's backed himself into a corner.
"uh oh."
"Hiding was a silly idea."
"Worth a try, though-"
"You aren't very good at it."
"Ok, let me try again, then?" Grace gives you his best puppy eyes. You almost cave, but think back to the number of times he's ignored your own pleading looks in these situations.
"Hm," you grin, swiftly tackling him to the floor. "Nah."
"Waitwaitwait-" He tries to shuffle backwards on his elbows, but you sit over his legs. knees pinning his hands in place. You've wasted enough time; you reach out as fast as you can, and swipe one finger over the shell of his ear.
It's immediately obvious why Ryland ran across the ship to avoid this.
"AHA- Nooooo! nonoNO-" He screeches, shoulders hunching up. His hands break free; they come up and try to block you, but you pin them out of the way again.
"I can't believe you kept this from me. After everything you put me through!" You convey your utter betrayal by fanning your fingers out behind his ear, swirling random patterns over the skin. Grace breaks into frantic giggles, his neck rapidly turning an adorable shade of red.
"Pleasepleaseplease-ahaha-It tickles!"
"Good."
"I'll- I'll do anythihing! Whatever you wahant! Just, please- MERCY" Grace cackles, snorting when you lean in to blow a gentle breeze onto his ear.
"Hm," you mutter, giving him a break so he can hear you talking. "...Anything? Let me think."
He's still giggling, the blush having spread up his neck to his face. Of course, he could have fought you off if he wanted to - you're acutely aware of the fact he's stronger than you. Something to tease him about later, perhaps. Your fingers trail over his sides as you keep thinking.
"I need something you'll hate..."
"I'll promise not to tickle you anymore- that's -aha- that's what this is about, right?"
You pause. This is dangerous territory. You'd never minded it, but he'd never stop teasing you if you openly admitted that. The best tactic is probably to change the subject.
"Excuse me, I'm the one deciding here." You return to his ear again, ever-so-lightly scratching around the helix, and he falls back into hysterics. "I could...make you do all the laundry for a month."
"Yehes- sure, fine!"
"...Nah, you agreed to that too quick."
You decide to give his ears a break, instead snaking your hands under his shirt to squeeze at his tummy. It sends him into absolute fits. A wide, carefree smile lights up his face, and his hands, having broken free a second time, clutch at his hair like he can't decide what to do with them. It puts a smile on your face too, seeing him like this. He doesn't laugh often enough - not genuinely, anyway. Neither of you do.
And then the idea hits you.
"Oh, I know what you'll hate."
Ryland goes still despite the fact you haven't stopped tickling - like he knows what's coming next.
"I want you..." You grin, drumming your fingers over his sides in a way that makes his breath catch, "...to tell me what a great scientist you are."
Grace gives you a look of utter dread.
"That's ridiculous," He huffs. "No one says that about themselves."
"And you won't accept it coming from someone else. So this will be a great step forward."
"When I get out, I'm going to tickle you so much-"
You don't let him finish; you immediately squeeze at his hips and watch the way he instinctively grabs at your wrists, never quite pushing you away.
"Are you gonna say it?"
"Noho!"
You scribble up his sides, and the pitch of his laughter slides higher again.
"Are you gonna say it?"
"NO!"
An evil idea occurs to you. "You have a nice laugh. You could admit that instead, if you'd prefer?"
"aha- screhew you!"
Your hands have reached his ribs, now. They poke gently at each one, and Ryland completely melts, covering his face and making a flustered sort of noise that's swiftly overtaken by helpless chuckles.
You slowly creep your fingers up higher and higher, watching as Grace gets increasingly embarrassed.
"Plehease, oh no, nono, that really tickles!"
He brings his arms down once you reach the top of his ribcage, head thrown back in near-silent laughter. Feeling a little sorry for him, you ease up, holding yourself still. However, it quickly becomes apparent that he's trapped your hands under his arms, and can't seem to stop making himself laugh, even though you've stopped moving.
"Oho- jeez-"
You give him an expectant look, flexing your fingers ever so slightly, sending him into more giggles.
"Ok, ok ok ok-" He babbles, adjusting his glasses. There's a moment of hesitation. "Uh...I'm... "
"...Yes?"
"I'm...a good scientist."
You retract your hands, satisfied. "Yes. You are."
Part of you wants to get him to say 'great' instead of 'good' - wants to keep that smile on his face for as long as possible. But, looking at him, you know he's giving you his best effort. You can see in his eyes that he's not ready for anything more than 'good'.
Something swirls uncomfortably in your chest with that knowledge.
If Grace notices the slight waver in your smile, he doesn't mention it. He's too busy propping himself up by the elbows, trying to wipe the silly grin off of his face.
You get up, and extend your hand towards his, trying to shake off the feeling. "Come on, you."
He swats your hand away with a pout. "No, I'm not talking to you right now."
There's absolutely no venom behind it.
"Ok, I guess the first ever Taumoeba WGS can wait, then. I'll make sure it's just my name on the paper."
He grins. "Oh, will you now?"
You lean against the wall. "Well, maybe I'll put you in the acknowledgements. Moral support, or whatever."
A moment of silence. He considers this. You consider the mischief creeping onto his face, and the way his fingers twitch ever so slightly; a barely noticeable motion that is definitely intended as a threat. He sees you notice, sees the cogs turning in your head.
95% of adulthood is feeling like you have no control of your life and are just getting through but every so often you have a moment of âwait a minute Iâm an adult. I can do whatever I want. Literally anything. I have free will. I can do ANYTHINGâ and that ends up just being staying up late watching anime or playing Pokemon while eating stale popcorn because you still have to worry about money, jobs, chores, and you actually were freer as a kid.
Do any of u have decent recipes that are like 5 ingredients (not including spices) and take 45 mins or less to prepare i gotta stop eating sandwiches for dinner
ignore the title of this google doc because it's a long story but it's a really solid recipe for southwest chicken alfredo
this is a vegetarian potato curry recipe that's about 75% spices; once you get the potatoes in there you can really do whatever you want with it
this is literally just pasta, broccoli, and cheese babey and you can live off that shit for DAYS it makes such a big portion
bro this spinach/pesto/3 cheese flatbread is so fucking tasty bro
also you can make the flatbread yourself it's super quick!!
oh hey I'm eating this white chickpea chili right now, much like the curry it's mostly spices and you can do p much do whatever you want with it
don't let the name fool you these potatoes are delicious any time. not just breakfast.
this is slightly more than five ingredient when you add them together but if you have time and really wanna fuckin treat yourself I recommend these chicken strips + this cornbread + either these potatoes or these buttered veggies on the side.
Grace's years of isolation from humans result in severe touch starvation. Rocky takes one look at this problem and says, "Hold my minerals."
Word Count: 3,687
Warnings: None
This is a SFW tickle fic, if you donât like that then donât read :)
Inspired by an adorable series on A03 focused on Grace being a wet cat and Rocky learning about human quirks (physical contact and mental health)Â Link Below!
Archive of Our Own: Platonic Cuddling SeriesÂ
The journey to Erid was slow going.
Space. More space. Some stars. A little more space. And oh, hey, would you look at that! Space again!
During his lonely trek back to Earth, Ryland Grace had considered cracking out the cocktail of Knockout Juice to slip him into a coma until he was home. Now, however, he wasnât alone aboard the Hail Mary. Heck, he wasnât even going home anymore.Â
Heâd been on such a rollercoaster of emotions over heading back to Earth. Despair, acceptance (not really), hope, then acceptance again (for real this time). With the finality of his choice to stay permanently in foreign space, something festered within Grace.
Despite the companionship he has, an awful emptiness latched its teeth into his core and wouldnât abate. No matter how much time heâd spend with Rocky or watch clips of Earth in the Donât Go Crazy Room, the feeling of wrongness stayed, and Grace has no idea how to stop it.Â
A shudder runs through his form, making Grace hunch further in on himself, gripping onto his arms. His skin ached something fierce, despite his hands rubbing along the surface in a meager attempt to self-soothe against the barrage of phantom needles.
What he would give to be bundled in his motherâs arms like he was ten again after tumbling off his bike and scraping his knee. Or being smothered in his dadâs all-encompassing embrace after a failed science experiment, a promise that one day, âHeâd be the smartest and coolest of all scientistsâ. What heâd give for any form of hug at all whilst in deep space-
The invisible aches haunting his body intensify in a sudden surge. Grace freezes in place, struck by a daunting realisation.
âŚOh.Â
It was cruel and unfair, but it made sense. The urge to cry welling up behind his eyes has Grace's breath shuddering out of him sporadically.Â
âGrace, okay, question?â
The doubled thudding of the Eridianâs back leg cuts through the static building in Graceâs head. He looks to the side and finds the alien âwatchingâ him intently, his carapace shifting in blatant concern.Â
Grace has to push the word out of his throat. â...No.â He rubs his palm along his arm with a disconnected fervor. It doesnât feel as though the warmth of his own skin is even getting through.Â
âWhat problem, question?âÂ
How could he even begin to explain the torrential emotions wreaking havoc on his wrung-out body? âThereâs something wrong with me.â
âGrace sick? Question?â Rocky is growing restless, feet thunking against the xenonite shell of his ball.
Grace swallows back the lump trying to start an uprising of sadness in his throat. It was a persistent battle. âItâs a human thing,â he rasps. âI donât know if it can be helped.â
âExplain. Rocky fix.â
Grace shakes his head as he burrows into his arms, both to hide his burning eyes and to escape this conversation. Rocky couldnât fix it. Bless that alienâs heart of gold for trying, but he just couldnât. What Grace needed, what he was craving, was human touch. It had been years since he left Earth, and his skin was growing desperate for an inkling of steady, warm contact. But by abandoning his journey to Earth in favour of saving his best friend - which he didnât regret for a second, mind you - heâd robbed himself of the chance to ever experience it again.Â
Granted, the last memory of touch was being forcibly restrained to the ground, suffocating pressure pinning him down as he screamed for help that would never come. Not exactly a golden recollection of human connection.Â
A steady series of tapping filters into Graceâs ears, getting past the marching band thumping away. He peeks over his forearm. Rocky has rolled himself so close that heâs right beside his friend.Â
âHeartbeat fast,â the Eridian states, worry warbling through his medeloic voice. âBad, bad, bad. Oxygen needed.â
Heâs close enough that Grace can feel the alienâs warmth through the xenonite. His skin practically buzzes with the idea of leaning against the Eridianâs stone-like form, multiple arms encircling him with a pressure that could settle his racing thoughts and lonely heart.
Grace canât help it. He gives in to his pathetic, human instincts.Â
His arms stretch out from his self-contained ball of panic to clutch around the xenonite, drag Rocky into his chest, and slump against the warm, glass-like surface. A sob tries to strangle his throat, but any noise is kept locked behind Graceâs pursed lips. Rocky tucks himself against the wall separating them, soft melodic noises rumbling from his form in an attempt to settle the erratic pounding he can hear within Graceâs chest. Heâd only heard this in moments of extreme distress for his human, and it hurt every time. Though Grace is trying to stay quiet, soft plinks of moisture hitting the top of the zenonite were heard loud and clear for the alien.
Grace clings to the zenonite ball as tightly as he can, trying to trick his mind into believing that the smooth, warm surface was what it was after. That this hug shared between two species unable to co-exist within the same environment is enough for his human instincts.Â
His skin prickles. The tears keep falling. It isnât enough. And it is going to stay that way for as long as he is away from Earth.Â
A shudder runs through the man at this bleak thought, the ever-expanding pit in his chest feeling as though itâs swallowing up his entire being.Â
As if he heard the emotional casam split further, Rockyâs warbles take on a mournful croon. âGrace, tell Rocky what wrong. Please?â
Grace presses his tear-stained cheek against the warm surface, sighing miserably.Â
âIâm touch starved.â He says it quietly, fingertips brushing over a surface that isnât organic enough to trick his brain into thinking itâs skin. âHumans are social beings; we naturally seek connection, and with that comes physical contact. Itâs common with anyone weâre close to, not just mates. Itâs ingrained into us to co-regulate, so when we go for a long time without that, it causes us to experience skin hunger. It makes humans feel bad.âÂ
Rocky cocks his body to the side, akin to tilting one's head. âIs hug helping badness?â
Grace wishes he could say yes, but then heâd be lying, and he didnât want to do that to Rocky. Shaking his head miserably, Grace scrubs a fist across his eyes to stem the flow of tears. âNo. Iâm hugging you, but I canât feel you hugging back. Pressure is a key thing with hugging; it feels safer that way.â
Rocky trills sadly. âApologies.â
Grace shakes his head again, but this time itâs paired with a weak, sincere smile. âItâs not your fault. Just sucks that our biologies are so different. I bet youâd give really good hugs without this thing in the way.â Grace knocks twice on the ball, emphasizing the distance between them. Â
Rocky chitters, though thereâs something contemplative about his tone now - an inquisitive warble rumbling through the plates atop his body. He leans away from Grace, his back legs thumping against the casing of his ball as he thinks. âRocky has idea.â
âYeah?â Grace lets his arms fall away, desperately ignoring the loss they feel as the warmth disappears from them. There was no need to be clingy. It wasnât exactly like the hug was helping him in the long run. It was like putting a sticky plaster over a gaping chest wound and calling it a day.
Rocky trills again, more full-bodied. Determined. âYes. Need to begin work now. Will show Grace when ready.â Rocky is practically buzzing. An eagerness tugging at his limbs as he fidgets in place, itching to start whatever âmystery projectâ heâs begun cooking up.
â...You gonna tell me what your idea is?â
The alien gives Grace his version of a thumbs up and happily chirps, âNo.â
To make it even more peculiar, he hasnât allowed Grace anywhere near him as he crafts. Any time Grace sets foot in the lab, he gets hissed at. Forget Eridans being extraterrestrial lifeforms of complex intelligence. That sentient stone spider is a cat in disguise. Grace has it on good authority that the little guy practically purrs whenever heâs smug or has done something clever. There was simply no other way to describe the happy trills rumbling from his body.Â
So, Grace has been forced to amuse himself with other things on the Hail Mary, as his only companion is acting like a kid fresh into puberty and staying in his room to play video games. Fortunately, Stratt had been generous enough to provide enough stimuli aboard the ship to keep the passengers entertained while they slowly died in an eternal abyss of stars.Â
Unfortunately, he could only consume so many episodes of Star Trek in total silence before he felt an oncoming existential crisis about watching a space show in space. Â
Thankfully, just as heâs considering going into the lab and risking being cursed out in Eridian, a series of clunks from multiple legs echo through the ship. Only⌠it didnât sound like it was coming from inside the hamster tunnels running throughout the vessel. Nor was the clunking dulled slightly by a xenonite ball following the demands of five limbs.Â
It sounds clearer. Closer. Concerningly faster than the ball as well.Â
Grace drops the Comfort Quilt⢠from his shoulders and scrambles up from his crossed leg position. He doesnât even know what heâs bracing for, but what greets him when it stomps into view is not what heâd been expecting in the slightest.
Rocky is encased in xenonite. Not a ball. His body is literally wearing such close-fitting xenonite that it follows every crevice, bump, and grain on his form.Â
âHi, Grace!â He chirrups, sounding utterly exhilarated as he holds up a claw and splits it into the famous Vulcan greeting from Star Trek. âSurprise!âÂ
Thank god Grace put down his mug of coffee before preparing for a potential ambush, or the inventory would be down a cup. His jaw has long hit the floor in place of ceramic shards, eyebrows high as if pulled by a passing moonâs gravity. âYouâre- you made a suit,â he sputters out.
âSo Rocky can fix starvation of skin!â Rocky bounces and wiggles in place, the thin xenonite moving with him flexibly. He eagerly reaches out with his two front limbs. âCan hug properly now!âÂ
Grace stares. His ears heard it, but his brain could not comprehend the development. That being said, his heart definitely could, and it felt full enough to burst.Â
He practically dives for Rocky and slams his full weight into him, knees colliding heavily with the floor. Rockyâs three back limbs counterbalance instantly, and the other two wrap tightly around his human. His claws grip into the fabric of Graceâs cardigan and stay there, keeping the man close against his body heat.
After months of being on the ship - technically years, but Grace didnât count the coma for his own mental health - with absolutely no physical contact from another being bar a ball of xenonite, this hug was everything.Â
It was tight, yet not enough for Graceâs deprived body. Every nerve was screaming from overwhelming warmth and pressure, but the idea of letting go only made Grace grip harder. He barely acknowledges heâs sobbing into the top of Rockyâs carapace; heâs too preoccupied trying to convince himself he isnât dreaming.Â
Rocky stays put, soft notes humming out of him in a gentle, soothing coo. Heâs seen Grace cry before - that man had earned the title of âLeaky Space Blobâ after all - but this is different. Itâs relief, itâs despair, it's everything the man has been silently yearning for in the depths of his subconscious.Â
Rocky is more than content to stay where he was with Grace practically smothering him from his doubled-over position, all his strings cut and emotions raw. He would stay put for as long as Grace needs. He lifts one of his limbs from the floor and runs it through Graceâs hair.Â
He pretends he doesnât hear the high-pitched, wounded keening that leaves the human in a cathartic, emotional release.
âHow did you do this?â Grace asks. âThis looks too thin- heck, it feels too thin to be safe for you.â
Rocky chitters, pleased. âMuch trials and errors,â he says. âImportant. Needed to make.â
Grace tightens his arms around Rocky for a moment before letting him go again. Well, kind of let him go, Rocky is lying over Graceâs legs with the manâs arms draped over his limbs. Yes, he was being a little clingy, but his entire nervous system was recovering from months of neglect. He needs this.Â
âIt means a lot,â he swallows back tears that threaten to have another revolution and overthrow his ability to see. Heâs already shed enough to fill a water bottle or two.Â
Theyâd moved to the dormitory once Grace felt reasonably steady to become a functioning human being again. (For those curious, it took a decent while for that to happen.) Now, heâs lying on his back atop the bedclothes with an Eridian carefully perched on his lower body as a steady source of contact. It seemed the small alien was enjoying the newfound freedom of touch without a ball getting in the way.Â
One of Graceâs hands is being diligently studied by the Eridian. âHumans soft.â Rocky remarks, something like awe filtering through his musical tones as he delicately handles Graceâs fingers. âToo easy to damage.â
Grace snorts. âWe canât all be sentient canon balls, Rock.â
âWhat is âcanon ballâ, question?âÂ
âProjectiles we have on Earth. It was used in battle.â
âRocky is terrifying space spider and dangerous ball, question?âÂ
Grace thinks of when Rocky first barged into the Hail Mary and proceeded to almost cause irreparable property damage to multiple items and devices within the ship. âYes.â He states with a laugh. âYouâre a force to be reckoned with.â
Rocky perks up. âGood reputation to have!â He prods at Graceâs fingers. âBetter than leaky, squishy, space blob.â He pokes at the softer skin of the manâs side to further drive his point home.
Grace yips, batting Rockyâs claws away from his torso instinctively. âHehey!â
Rocky jolts upright, removing himself from Graceâs legs. âHurt? Grace hurt? Rocky hurt Grace?!â His voice flits up several octaves as he panics, hands tightly curled against his body to keep them far from his friend.
âNo. No, no, you didnât- hey, come back here, you silly goose. Stop freaking out.â Grace grasps one of Rockyâs retreating limbs and gently tugs him forward with an exasperated chuckle.
Rocky hesitantly steps closer, but doesnât settle back down. Graceâs legs mourn the loss of their weighted blanket. âGrace make hurt noise,â he states. âMake same sound when burnt with solder iron.â
Grace sighs and sinks deeper into his mattress. He didnât think this would be a topic heâd have to explain to aliens, but here we are.
âHumans have a pretty complex nervous system that has evolved to alert us when weâre in danger, specifically through touch. When you poked me, my body was telling me something was digging into a place where vital organs sit. The noise I made was just a byproduct of that.âÂ
Rocky considers this explanation, then makes a confused warble. âYou laughed afterwards.â
Damn. Grace had been hoping Rocky didnât catch that.Â
â...Yeah.â
âWhy, question?âÂ
â...Itâs a human thing.â
âExplain. Grace live on Erid in future, need to know human biology.â
Well, no dodging the question now.
Grace sighs and runs a hand through his hair. âIt just tickled a bit, thatâs all.â
âNo understand word.â
Double damn.Â
â...Tickling is when humans are touched in a certain way that makes us laugh. Itâs attached to the nervous system thing, part of our fight or flight response.â
Rocky tilts his carapace and extends a claw to wiggle against Graceâs side again. The small squeak Grace lets out causes heat to flush his ears. Rocky chirps, delighted. âThis make laughter on command!â
Grace opens his mouth to parry that point, only to gasp and fall into bouts of snickers when Rockyâs claws start prodding at his stomach insistently with both claws. âR-Rohohocky!âÂ
Itâs been years, even more than heâs been on the Hail Mary, since heâs felt this sensation. The scuttling, electric sparks spread through his nerves, causing him to flail helplessly. His hands scrabble to both grab onto and bat away Rockyâs curious limbs. Neither tactic got him very far.
âGrace sound very happy,â Rocky informs him. Thank you, Rocky. Weâd be lost without your keen observation skills. âAre all humans this sensitive?â
Grace makes a strangled, embarrassed noise in the back of his throat and tries to yank his legs up so he can curl into a ball and hide.Â
âNo, stay stationary. Rocky is not done exploring this.â Rockyâs claws grab onto Graceâs knees to simply push them away, only for Grace to yelp and kick his legs out.Â
âNononono- Rohohocky câmohohon!â
Rocky chirps, curiosity singing through his melodic voice. âTickles happen all over, question?â He inquires, his back hand squeezing Graceâs knee and thigh twice in place of stomping.Â
âROHOHOCK!â The hearty cackles that sprang forth like an exploded fire hydrant were answer enough.
Rocky scuttles and prods over the muscular limbs, little chirps of excitement emanating from the depths of his carapace with every new noise he draws from Grace. Scratching at the underside of the human's knees produced a series of breathy, unstoppable giggles that vividly reminded Rocky of the young Eridians back home with newly developed squeaks perpetrating their vocal cords.Â
Rocky relays that thought to Grace, and the temperature of the humanâs face increased dramatically.Â
âGrace embarrassed, question? Sound cute.â Rocky reassures, wiggling his claws into Grace's lower abdomen.Â
A flustered noise left the man, quickly buried behind his arms as he wriggled incessantly from the tickling. âE-Enohohough wihihith- my knees!â He pleads, the feather-light wisps of touch sending his brain into a haywire state of laughter.Â
âThat okay, plenty more to try!â
Grace feels pressure firmly lay across his legs, keeping them still despite their instinctive desire to kick. Rocky has become essentially deadweight, using his higher body mass to easily pin Grace to the bed. At first, his heartbeat kicked up in learned fear from being pinned down amongst dead grass, but the gentle touches and familiar warmth of the Eridian dashes his anxiety instantly.Â
It was kind of hard to focus on the last memory of being pinned whilst Rocky's two front claws had taken to prodding all over the manâs torso. Light and experimental pinches being tossed in just for curiosity's sake.Â
âGrace should have informed Rocky of this sooner, couldâve cheered you up easily,â Rocky says, mirth filling his voice as he takes in Graceâs blinding grin, flushed cheeks, and bubbling laughter. He made sure to keep his touch light, not wanting to accidentally hurt his friend; however, in doing so, the tickling was simply more unbearable.Â
And as much as Grace's touch-starved body is relishing in this newfound, sorely missed companionship, itâs tiring quickly.Â
âR-Rohohock! Plehehease! No- Nohoho mohohore!â Grace wheezes out a laugh before slumping back into the rumpled bedclothes, all fight disappearing and leaving him in a puddle of giggles.Â
Rocky chirps, withdrawing his claws from Graceâs stomach. âThis hurts, question?â He stomps his back foot into the mattress to punctuate his concern.Â
âNo, not at all.â Grace drapes an arm over his eyes and takes in grateful gulps of air, the last of his laughter shaking his chest. âJust overwhelming, bud. Itâs been a long time.â
âBut Grace is okay, question?â
The hollowness is gone. Graceâs cheeks hurt from smiling. He feels good. âYeah.â The scientist reassures. âBetter than okay. I donât think Iâve laughed that hard in a while.â
âWant me to do again, question?âÂ
Graceâs arm thatâs draped over his eyes shoots down to preemptively cover his stomach, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face. âUh- no, no, that kind of touch is usually for play. Kinda wanting to get some rest now, Rock.â
Rocky chirps, leaning a bit more into Graceâs chest, akin to a weighted blanket. He wraps his claws underneath Grace in a hug, while one reaches up to scratch through his hair. Grace practically melts, a blissful sigh heaving Rocky up and then down in a slump.Â
âBetter, question?â
âYeh, feels nâce,â Grace slurs out, eyelids long since closed, and wrapping his arms over Rockyâs warm, xenonite-enclosed form. It was like hugging a hot water bottle made of glass. Sleep was sneaking around the corner with a bat and a trip to Night Night Station.Â
A claw slips down his scalp, scraping close to the skin of his ear. Grace flinches with a small grunt. The claw pauses.
âGrace is serious? Here as well, question?â The amusement is abundantly obvious.Â
âShut up,â Grace grumbles, gently taking Rockyâs front limb and guiding it back to his hair.Â
Rocky chuckles. âHumans are very endearing. Will be doing this again, statement."
Grace rolls his eyes, trying to pretend there wasnât a blush practically living on his ears now. Rocky let him dodge answering that. After all, he plans to use this newfound information to keep Graceâs spirits up. There would be plenty of time to prove to his friend that humans were loveable space blobs.Â
âYou sleep, I watch.â He murmurs, carefully scratching the manâs scalp in rhythmic patterns.Â
Graceâs fingers intertwine with Rockyâs and squeeze. âThanks, Rocky. âŚAnd thank you for fixing this. Youâre a miracle worker.â
âWill always fix for Grace. Grace family, statement.âÂ
Grace squeezes a bit tighter, hoping Rocky understands the love being projected through the gesture. He pretends his voice isnât choked up as he whispers, âYouâre my family too. Statement.â
The rumblings of the Hail Mary almost match the lyrical purrs emitting from Rocky, sending Grace into the deepest sleep heâs had since being aboard. Safe. Protected. Loved.
I think ao3 is literally the only site where no censorship means no censorship. you can post the most vile things on there â things that will get taken down on any other platforms â and ao3 will protect you, your works, and your rights to create whatever you want, however you want.
and no, this isnât me saying âwrite that messed up, disgusting thingâ because while, yes, write it if itâs what you want (I myself enjoy writing dark fics, something I believe would be considered âvileâ to a lot of people), this is me saying in a world of censorship and capitalism, ao3 really is a treasure.
Synopsis: It's not easy to focus on space navigation when your crewmate keeps turning the thermostat down. You take matters into your own hands. Written for this request, thank you for the idea anon! <3
a/n: I've proofread this like once so apologies if it's OOC or there's mistakes :,)
âWait, listen-listen-â
You pause, gesturing for Ryland to speak. Heâs backed against the wall, hands held up in front of him.
Rocky has perched just behind the xenonite barrier dividing the ship, front legs folded as he watches. He has no stake in the matter at hand; after all, his side of the ship is kept a perfectly toasty 210 degrees, at all times. He doesnât have to deal with a roommate who constantly turns the temperature control down without telling you.Â
Ryland holds up his arms, the picture of innocence. âIn my defence, it took you three hours to notice, so it canât have been that bad.â
âWe had an agreement!â You press a hand to your brow, but grimace at how cold your fingers are.
âI was sweating!â Grace laments, âIf itâs so cold, you should move in with Rocky!â
âI would like that,â Rocky chimes in.Â
âYea, me too,â You sympathise. âMaybe then Iâd be able to feel my hands.â
âItâs not my fault youâre anaemic!â
âItâs not my fault youâd still need aircon on Uranus!â
âOh, come on- Rocky, help me out here-â
âNo, Rocky not help. We had deal. Grace promised he would not do again. Grace has done againâŚtwice.â
âTwice?!?!â You glare at Ryland. He shrinks.
âI saw him change controls last night.â Rocky supplies. Grace throws his hands up in betrayal.
âCâmon, man!âÂ
âOkay, thatâs it-â You tut, and immediately shove your ice cold hands towards him, holding them against his neck. Ryland shrieks, scrunching his shoulders up, but heâs too slow.Â
âWhatâs the matter? I thought you were boiling!â You laugh, following him down as he sinks to the floor in a poorly thought out escape strategy.
âGetoffgetoffgetoff-â He swats at you uselessly. You ignore his pleas for mercy, shifting your fingers to get a better grip.
âHa- hey! That tickles!!â
Thereâs a pause between both of you as Grace realises his mistake.
You grin. âHmm, my hands still arenât warm enough.â
His eyes go wide. âNo, no- nO-â He breaks off into another squeal, shoving at your hands as they pop under his shirt to scribble at his sides.
âYea, this is better.âÂ
âIt is not, you little- ah!â Heâs giggling now, sinking further down against Rockyâs wall.Â
âGet him!â Rocky taps the barrier to show his support. Heâs seen enough playfights between you two to know whatâs happening.Â
âRock, you -aha - you traitor!â Ryland yelps out, slapping at the wall behind like itâs going to do anything.Â
You fake a frown. âDonât talk to Rocky like that.âÂ
Grace flails aimlessly; heâd probably be able to get away if he actually had an ounce of coordination, which you are both aware he lacks even on a good day.Â
In a way, it makes your job easier - his arms donât know what to do with themselves, which leaves his ribs conveniently unguarded. You make your next attack there, and canât help but laugh at his immediate squeal. A blush is creeping onto his cheeks.
âPlehease- I- sorry, sohorry Rocky! Hehelp me buddy!â
âHm. No. Like when Grace laugh. Do not get to hear often.âÂ
âNoho! Shut up-â
â'Shut up?' That's rude,â You interject. âWhat should we do about that, Rock?â
âHis stomach is bad. I poked once and he jumped a lot.â
âNo,no, dohonât do it-â
There is a flash of fear on Graceâs face which you quickly lose sight of, because he immediately throws his head back the minute you test this theory. Loud, high pitched giggling fills the ship.Â
âMehercy! Hehelp! It tihickles!â Ryland finally figures out how to get his arms to shove at your hands. It does nothing.
âYea, that does look like it tickles,â You observe, delighting in the way Grace immediately tries to hide his face. You look over at Rocky. âGood call, bud. Thanks.â
âWelcome. Grace apologise now, question?â
âYehehes, please! Please, Iâm sohorry-â
âYou're sorry, andâŚ?â You slow up a bit, letting him catch his breath and adjust his dishevelled glasses through the hysterics. He props himself up on his elbows, still fighting off laughter.
âWhahat do you mean âandâ?â
âAre you gonna do it again?âÂ
He pauses. You notice just enough hesitation in his face that you decide a second attack is warranted. Your hands scribble at the sides of his tummy, and he immediately falls back to the floor.
âOhokay, okay! Iâm -aha- Iâm sorry, and I wonât do it agahain!â
You stop, and look at Rocky again.Â
âWhat do you think? That good enough?â
âYes.â
Ryland sighs in relief.
Rocky speaks a second time, and the translation takes a moment to kick in.
âIf he does again, you tickle again.â
âExcellent idea.â You offer Ryland a hand. Begrudgingly, he takes it.
He starts stretching his arms, like heâs just remembered how to control them, then pauses. âYou, uh, needed to warm up, right?â
You hesitate. Something about his grin - the tilt of his head, too - makes you back up slightly. He wriggles his fingers at you.
A/N: Welcome to the result of all my Ryland Grace brainrot...I am so Normal about this guy you have no idea. I'd apologise for the cringe reader insert but that wouldn't be very whimsical of me. Enjoy.
(One day I will include Rocky - today is not that day, I have...no idea how to write him yet)
Synopsis: When you put two people on a cramped spaceship, they will inevitably have stupid arguments - you just never counted on Grace resorting to torture when we wants to win a debate.
Ryland Grace is a pain in the ass.
âGive it back!â
âNope.â You hold his notepad and pen well out of reach. âI donât know what time it is, but we both need sleep.â
âThen go to sleep!â He whines, grabbing for his supplies.
âI would, if theyâd packed me any fucking earplugs on this tin can. You have zero spatial awareness when youâre researching! Itâs loud!â
Ryland frowns at your swearing, but continues to snatch at your hands - you float above him slightly and hold your arms well out of his reach, grateful that a height difference doesnât mean as much in zero-G.
âFive more minutes?â
âYou said the exact same thing half an hour ago.â
He shrugs at this, and keeps trying to snatch his stuff back. Things quickly devolve into a childish wrestling match, both of you grabbing and slapping at the other.
âGive! It! Back!â Grace punctuates the words with three lunges towards the book. They all miss.
Somewhere in the midst of the flailing, he grabs your sides, trying to drag you closer. He doesn't miss the sudden flinch it causes, nor the poorly suppressed yelp.
Deathly silence falls over the pair of you.Â
Ryland narrows his eyes, calculating.
You school your expression into one of indifference as Grace starts smiling, and adjusts his glasses.
 âAre you ticklish?â He's thrilled. This does not bode well for winning your little argument.
âNo. Don't distract me.â It's the least convincing lie you've ever told. You hold the notebook higher in case he tries anything, and lament the telltale blush creeping up your neck. The human body is excellent at betraying itself.
Before you can react, he tickles you again, with intent this time, fingertips skittering above your hip.Â
A strangled squeak escapes. You instinctively reach down with your free arm and shove his wrist, eyes wide.Â
"Ohhh, you liar!" Ryland meets your gaze with a low laugh, and the look on his face makes you briefly consider running out the airlock. You're out of time to contemplate one-way exits though, as he promptly grabs onto your waist and starts squeezing.Â
âGrace! Don't-â You try to even out your breathing, not wanting to give him a reaction so easily. Laughter threatens to escape every time you try to speak.Â
âIâll stop if you give me the notepad,â he states matter-of-factly, fingers creeping up to prod your ribs. It's getting harder and harder to hold your arm up, and he can tell.
âNe...aha...Never!â You manage, giggles rapidly overtaking your ability to string together a sentence.
He sighs. âAlright then, you leave me no choice.âÂ
With that, his hand moves under your arm, and it comes crashing down towards your chest. You're not ready to give up - you clutch the book close to your chest, both hands holding onto it for dear life.
Unfortunately, this makes it all the more difficult to stop Ryland from scribbling up and down your ribs in a way that drives you into utter hysterics.
âCâmon, I know you want to let go. Just let go. Itâs so easy.â He worms a couple fingers under your arms, and laughs at the small shriek it causes. âDid that noise come out of you?â
âPlease-!â You gasp, legs kicking uselessly. It's becoming apparent that tickle fights in zero G suck. Your instinctive squirming doesnât do much without gravity to help you, so you're basically a sitting duck. Grace seems aware of this and takes full advantage, nudging you into a lying position to scribble over the sides of your stomach. He looks so damn smug that it makes you grip the notebook tighter out of spite.
âOh, that's a good spot, isn't it? You go all squeaky when I do this.â The smirk on his face nearly kills you.Â
Good god. You're trapped on a spaceship with a sadist.Â
âGrace! Stop, mercy-â Your frantic laughter is punctuated with many embarrassing noises - a snort here, the occasional hiccup there. Ryland seems intent on cataloguing which areas draw these out, and itâs wearing your resolve very thin, very quickly. Luckily, he seems to sense this, and backs off to give you a breather.
âMercy?â He hovers his hands near your torso. âOkay. Hereâs whatâs gonna happen. Iâm gonna count to three, and if you donât give me that notebook, youâre done for. Got it?â
Youâre a little too busy gasping for air to process anything. Thereâs a stupid grin on your face that wonât go away, and whenever you breathe out, a bunch of giggles slip out too. Itâs utterly humiliating.Â
âTwoâŚâ You mustâve missed the start of the countdown. Grace tilts his head at you, clearly surprised at your determination. He wriggles his fingers above your stomach, and thatâs when you decide to give up. You shove the notepad at him in a panic, the thought of more tickling sending you into another laughing fit.
âThree- oh, thank you. There, was that so hard?â
You go to say something snarky in response, but it just comes out as an incoherent giggle. Grace chuckles.
âOk, and what did we learn?â
You give him a rude gesture. He scowls and pokes you, which is enough to set you off again for a moment. Whilst you recover, he heads over to the desk to finish up whatever notes he was writing before.Â
After a second, he hesitates, and looks at you over his shoulder.
âAnd donât you even think about tickling me. Wonât work.â
âŚSomething in his voice betrays him. You may be a liar, but it takes one to know one.
warnings: swearing, tickling, that vibe. nothing too bad!
massive credit to @adrienisweird I constantly have been bouncing ideas off this lovely lil guy /aff /p
Leon wasnât sure how heâd gotten himself into this position. He had come over to Graceâs apartment to visit her and Emily after the events of the care center, Raccoon City, and the ARK center. He figured it would help them all relax and feel a little bit better having some company. Currently, he was sprawled out on the floor with Grace digging into his ribs. âGehehehet awahahay!â He shrieked and kicked when she moved to scribble up and down his waist. Emily was giggling and clapping from the couch.
âUncle Leon is ticklish!â she giggled with delight. Grace turned her head to smile at the little girl. Emily could finally see after she was cured of the virusâher brown eyes were filled with delight at watching Grace make her âuncleâ laugh like this. Leon snorted rather loudly as the FBI agent kneaded between his lower ribs. He arched his back as she kept at it, her fingers having some determination to kill him, it felt like. âGrahahahace!â Leonâs laugh was raspy. Wheezy. And daresay cute, if Grace had to note it.Â
For a man who was always so gruff, he sure was ticklish. She hovered her fingers above his waist, then above his ribs. Leonâs eyes were warily tracking her movements. Grace wiggled her fingers slightly, loving the jolt that went through Leonâs body. âHe is ticklish,â Grace affirmed, lowering her hands all the way and tracing shapes on his belly. She drew a circle, making Emily laugh as Leon squirmed in place.Â
She cooed softly, scrunching her fingers over his stomach. It wasnât his worst spot, but it was enough to get him to giggle silently. He scrabbled at her wrists, not gripping nearly tight enough to truly shove her hands away. Leon could squirm away if he wanted to and she knew that. Grace had seen him fight before, and this was nothing. She looked over at the seven year old sitting on the couch watching her. âEmily, do you want to help?â she asked.Â
The little girl nodded with excitement. She hopped down from her spot on the couch with a precious smile. Leon glared up at Grace but visibly softened his gaze when he turned to glance at Emily, who was now crouching next to him. He felt small fingers creep up his waist. Somehow, small fingers were worse. Emily scritched lightly at the spot right above his hipâher hand had slipped under his loose shirt a little so she was against bare skin.
âFâFuhuhuck!â he choked out. Honestly forgetting a child was present.Â
âLanguage,â Grace scolded playfully, drilling her thumbs into either side of his hips. He had to visibly fight bucking for fear of somehow hurting Emily. He let out a wheeze and shook his head. His body arched a little, and he wriggled in place. Emily whined softly. Grace removed her hands, a smug little grin on her face. âThere. Behave,â she said, poking Leon in the ribs just to get her point across.Â
Emily dragged her small nails across his stomach. Leon sucked his stomach in on instinct. Emily thought it was funny so she followed the movement, giggling as she felt the muscles twitch. Leon was silently giggling. He was refusing to open his mouth or sass for fear of it either coming out as swearing or just sounding like a child. âTickle tickle tickle!â Emily said in a soft, bubbly tone. Leon felt his face turn a shade of red. Usually teasing didnât affect him, but the fact that it was from a person he couldnât kick offâa child, at thatâseemed to be the cause.Â
Grace started tickling the very outside of his thigh. Made his leg kick out and him roll to the side where Emily wasnât. âYou know, Emily, your uncle has a ticklish back. Do you wanna see?âÂ
âGrahahace!âÂ
Emily pushed at his ribs slightly, trying to roll him over. Leon groaned in protest, refusing to look at either of them. Emily whined softly, clearly determined to move all 155 pounds of him. Leon felt bad, so he begrudgingly rolled onto his stomach, crossing his arms and resting his head on them. Able to muffle his sounds into the floor if need be. The older woman sat next to him, kneeling next to his shoulders. Grace started kneading his shoulders and upper back. He choked out a laugh, muffling it into his arms.Â
Emily squealed with delight, climbing onto the backs of his thighs. Well, now Leon knew he really couldnât squirm. He felt her small fingers begin to tickle up and down the sides of his waist, right next to where his lower back would start. Leon giggled with a snort, one hand coming out from under his head to grab onto Graceâs thigh and squeeze a little. She was proud of him for at least being nice enough to not squirm too much. Emily hit a particularly bad spot on the backs of his lower ribs, and Leon yelped and chuckled harder, nuzzling his face into his arm further. âEmihihilyâplehehehease!âÂ
âHey, sweetie, watch this,â Grace said with a smug little smile. Emily watched with a delighted grin as her mother pushed back Leonâs hair to expose the nape of his neck. Leon let out a confused mumble of a word, then squealed as Grace blew a raspberry into the sensitive skin. The hand that was originally squeezing her leg was now hitting the floor a bit. He felt Emily start to trace shapes on his back.Â
âCan weâcan we spell uncleâs name?â Emily asked her mom, who sat back up to look at her adopted daughter. Grace nodded, leaning down and spelling Leonâs name for her. He felt the little girl trace out an L on his upper back. Then an E, the messy line going down his spine. He arched slightly. âDonât mess me up,â Emily scolded playfully, and traced an O next. She made sure to make the letter N as fancy as a kid could make it across his lower back. âOkay, Emily. Hereâs another thing you can do.â
Grace showed her daughter how to make her hands into mini claw shapes. Emily nodded, looking with both fascination and slight frustration at her hands. She successfully made the shape, then Grace showed her where to put them. Leon snickered as he felt small, clumsy hands place themselves on his waist. He was still on his stomach. Grace pinned the arm down that was hitting the floor, pinning his wrist gently with her knee. Leon growled, trying to sound intimidating but it quickly dissipated into frantic bubbling chortles as Graceâs hand dove into his underarm, fingers digging rather insistently,Â
He felt the small hands start to clumsily drag and pinch insistently at his waist. He kicked his feet, steel toed boot hitting the floor rather hard. âEmiâGrahahahahace! PleheheaseâihihihitââÂ
âTickle tickles?â Emily offered.Â
âNohohoho!âÂ
Without even thinking, he swiftly rolled onto his back. Emily was able to scramble out of the way and since he was in a loose pin by Grace, his arm came out freely. He was panting, very red in the face from the sheer embarrassment. Emily lowered her head and blew a messy raspberry on his belly. Despite the loose shirt he had on, he still felt it quite well through the fabric. He let out a squeaky cackle, throwing one arm over his face to cover his eyes.Â
Her fingers scribbled messily along his waist, up to his ribs then back down right above his hips. Jesus, what had Grace taught this kid? He arched his back and heard the girl make a bubbly sound of delight. âEhehemihily-!â he squeaked out, his laugh starting to turn moreâŚclear rather than the gruff and raspy one from earlier. He felt Grace grab one of his legs and start to tickle behind his knee. Light tickles, just enough to be felt but not enough to make him truly laugh. An infuriating, itching sensation that made him want to kick his leg.
The tickles got more insistent, which made him fully kick the leg out, nearly connecting with Graceâs jaw. She luckily was able to dodge it. âShihihhihitâsohohhorry!â he choked out through laughs. She wasnât sure if the apology was more directed toward the fact he nearly kicked her or the fact that he just swore. Again.Â
âMama, what does that mean?â Emily asked, her eyes so innocent and curious Leon couldâve swore he wanted to sink into the floor
âYour uncle is just saying bad words, sweetie. Alright, Leon, thatâs another thirty seconds. Emily, do you want me to tickle him or you? Or both? I feel like heâll behave enough to hold still.âÂ
âBoth!â the little girl answered, the biggest smile on her face as she put her fingers back on her âuncleâsâ waist. Leon whined through titters. Grace crawled up toward one side of his hip, positioning her hands right at the dip of his hip. Grace and Leon both knew one thing: heâd be there for a while. As the fingers began tickling and his laughter filled the room, Grace made a note to herself to tickle him more often. The smile was precious, and itâs something sheâd love to see more often.Â
warnings: swearing, tickling, that vibe. nothing too bad!
massive credit to @adrienisweird I constantly have been bouncing ideas off this lovely lil guy /aff /p
Leon wasnât sure how heâd gotten himself into this position. He had come over to Graceâs apartment to visit her and Emily after the events of the care center, Raccoon City, and the ARK center. He figured it would help them all relax and feel a little bit better having some company. Currently, he was sprawled out on the floor with Grace digging into his ribs. âGehehehet awahahay!â He shrieked and kicked when she moved to scribble up and down his waist. Emily was giggling and clapping from the couch.
âUncle Leon is ticklish!â she giggled with delight. Grace turned her head to smile at the little girl. Emily could finally see after she was cured of the virusâher brown eyes were filled with delight at watching Grace make her âuncleâ laugh like this. Leon snorted rather loudly as the FBI agent kneaded between his lower ribs. He arched his back as she kept at it, her fingers having some determination to kill him, it felt like. âGrahahahace!â Leonâs laugh was raspy. Wheezy. And daresay cute, if Grace had to note it.Â
For a man who was always so gruff, he sure was ticklish. She hovered her fingers above his waist, then above his ribs. Leonâs eyes were warily tracking her movements. Grace wiggled her fingers slightly, loving the jolt that went through Leonâs body. âHe is ticklish,â Grace affirmed, lowering her hands all the way and tracing shapes on his belly. She drew a circle, making Emily laugh as Leon squirmed in place.Â
She cooed softly, scrunching her fingers over his stomach. It wasnât his worst spot, but it was enough to get him to giggle silently. He scrabbled at her wrists, not gripping nearly tight enough to truly shove her hands away. Leon could squirm away if he wanted to and she knew that. Grace had seen him fight before, and this was nothing. She looked over at the seven year old sitting on the couch watching her. âEmily, do you want to help?â she asked.Â
The little girl nodded with excitement. She hopped down from her spot on the couch with a precious smile. Leon glared up at Grace but visibly softened his gaze when he turned to glance at Emily, who was now crouching next to him. He felt small fingers creep up his waist. Somehow, small fingers were worse. Emily scritched lightly at the spot right above his hipâher hand had slipped under his loose shirt a little so she was against bare skin.
âFâFuhuhuck!â he choked out. Honestly forgetting a child was present.Â
âLanguage,â Grace scolded playfully, drilling her thumbs into either side of his hips. He had to visibly fight bucking for fear of somehow hurting Emily. He let out a wheeze and shook his head. His body arched a little, and he wriggled in place. Emily whined softly. Grace removed her hands, a smug little grin on her face. âThere. Behave,â she said, poking Leon in the ribs just to get her point across.Â
Emily dragged her small nails across his stomach. Leon sucked his stomach in on instinct. Emily thought it was funny so she followed the movement, giggling as she felt the muscles twitch. Leon was silently giggling. He was refusing to open his mouth or sass for fear of it either coming out as swearing or just sounding like a child. âTickle tickle tickle!â Emily said in a soft, bubbly tone. Leon felt his face turn a shade of red. Usually teasing didnât affect him, but the fact that it was from a person he couldnât kick offâa child, at thatâseemed to be the cause.Â
Grace started tickling the very outside of his thigh. Made his leg kick out and him roll to the side where Emily wasnât. âYou know, Emily, your uncle has a ticklish back. Do you wanna see?âÂ
âGrahahace!âÂ
Emily pushed at his ribs slightly, trying to roll him over. Leon groaned in protest, refusing to look at either of them. Emily whined softly, clearly determined to move all 155 pounds of him. Leon felt bad, so he begrudgingly rolled onto his stomach, crossing his arms and resting his head on them. Able to muffle his sounds into the floor if need be. The older woman sat next to him, kneeling next to his shoulders. Grace started kneading his shoulders and upper back. He choked out a laugh, muffling it into his arms.Â
Emily squealed with delight, climbing onto the backs of his thighs. Well, now Leon knew he really couldnât squirm. He felt her small fingers begin to tickle up and down the sides of his waist, right next to where his lower back would start. Leon giggled with a snort, one hand coming out from under his head to grab onto Graceâs thigh and squeeze a little. She was proud of him for at least being nice enough to not squirm too much. Emily hit a particularly bad spot on the backs of his lower ribs, and Leon yelped and chuckled harder, nuzzling his face into his arm further. âEmihihilyâplehehehease!âÂ
âHey, sweetie, watch this,â Grace said with a smug little smile. Emily watched with a delighted grin as her mother pushed back Leonâs hair to expose the nape of his neck. Leon let out a confused mumble of a word, then squealed as Grace blew a raspberry into the sensitive skin. The hand that was originally squeezing her leg was now hitting the floor a bit. He felt Emily start to trace shapes on his back.Â
âCan weâcan we spell uncleâs name?â Emily asked her mom, who sat back up to look at her adopted daughter. Grace nodded, leaning down and spelling Leonâs name for her. He felt the little girl trace out an L on his upper back. Then an E, the messy line going down his spine. He arched slightly. âDonât mess me up,â Emily scolded playfully, and traced an O next. She made sure to make the letter N as fancy as a kid could make it across his lower back. âOkay, Emily. Hereâs another thing you can do.â
Grace showed her daughter how to make her hands into mini claw shapes. Emily nodded, looking with both fascination and slight frustration at her hands. She successfully made the shape, then Grace showed her where to put them. Leon snickered as he felt small, clumsy hands place themselves on his waist. He was still on his stomach. Grace pinned the arm down that was hitting the floor, pinning his wrist gently with her knee. Leon growled, trying to sound intimidating but it quickly dissipated into frantic bubbling chortles as Graceâs hand dove into his underarm, fingers digging rather insistently,Â
He felt the small hands start to clumsily drag and pinch insistently at his waist. He kicked his feet, steel toed boot hitting the floor rather hard. âEmiâGrahahahahace! PleheheaseâihihihitââÂ
âTickle tickles?â Emily offered.Â
âNohohoho!âÂ
Without even thinking, he swiftly rolled onto his back. Emily was able to scramble out of the way and since he was in a loose pin by Grace, his arm came out freely. He was panting, very red in the face from the sheer embarrassment. Emily lowered her head and blew a messy raspberry on his belly. Despite the loose shirt he had on, he still felt it quite well through the fabric. He let out a squeaky cackle, throwing one arm over his face to cover his eyes.Â
Her fingers scribbled messily along his waist, up to his ribs then back down right above his hips. Jesus, what had Grace taught this kid? He arched his back and heard the girl make a bubbly sound of delight. âEhehemihily-!â he squeaked out, his laugh starting to turn moreâŚclear rather than the gruff and raspy one from earlier. He felt Grace grab one of his legs and start to tickle behind his knee. Light tickles, just enough to be felt but not enough to make him truly laugh. An infuriating, itching sensation that made him want to kick his leg.
The tickles got more insistent, which made him fully kick the leg out, nearly connecting with Graceâs jaw. She luckily was able to dodge it. âShihihhihitâsohohhorry!â he choked out through laughs. She wasnât sure if the apology was more directed toward the fact he nearly kicked her or the fact that he just swore. Again.Â
âMama, what does that mean?â Emily asked, her eyes so innocent and curious Leon couldâve swore he wanted to sink into the floor
âYour uncle is just saying bad words, sweetie. Alright, Leon, thatâs another thirty seconds. Emily, do you want me to tickle him or you? Or both? I feel like heâll behave enough to hold still.âÂ
âBoth!â the little girl answered, the biggest smile on her face as she put her fingers back on her âuncleâsâ waist. Leon whined through titters. Grace crawled up toward one side of his hip, positioning her hands right at the dip of his hip. Grace and Leon both knew one thing: heâd be there for a while. As the fingers began tickling and his laughter filled the room, Grace made a note to herself to tickle him more often. The smile was precious, and itâs something sheâd love to see more often.Â
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