Summary: Steve, Eddie, and Robin go to a Renaissance Fair and see some interesting demonstrations. (This fic is for my lovely friend @gigglyrambles!! I literally just pulled this whole plot out of my ass and wrote it in one sitting, so I really hope you like it, LOL. Also, shoutout to @wordstrings because I know she has written something similar for Our Flag Means Death, I hope you don't mind me taking inspiration!!)
Steve isn’t sure how he ended up being dragged along to a Renaissance Fair with none other than Robin and Eddie, but he found it hard to say no to either of their puppy dog eyes and incessant begging.
His outfit is simple, consisting of a white, long-sleeved shirt with laces at the neckline, tight brown pants, and brown boots. He feels only a little bit ridiculous, but after seeing what his friends are wearing, he supposes he isn’t the weirdest looking one.
Eddie is decked out in black, an intricately detailed top with ruffles and buttons. A fake sword sits in a holder on his waist. Robin has gone for a more masculine look, a cloak over her shoulders and a bow and arrow in her hand.
“Screw historical accuracy,” she’d said.
“The fact that you’re a girl isn’t the problem, it’s that you couldn’t hit a moving target with an arrow to save your life,” Eddie had teased, and Robin had elbowed him in the ribs, making Steve laugh.
Now that they’ve arrived, Steve has relaxed a bit. He used to feel out of place whenever he attended events that he wouldn’t have been caught dead at in high school. Corroded Coffin concerts, DnD campaigns, and that one time he drove Eddie and Robin to the nearest gay bar in Indiana. It had definitely been more awkward sober, and before he realized that he’s bisexual, and could have totally had more fun if he’d been aware of and okay with that information at the time.
He’s sort of glad he wasn’t, though, because kissing Eddie Munson during a childish game of truth or dare was a much funnier way to have your queer awakening, and dating Eddie Munson is way more fun than hooking up with random guys in a bar.
“They have really good beer here,” Eddie comments, to which Steve holds up his car keys and jingles them. No medieval mead is going to keep him from being the designated driver.
“I can drive us home,” Robin says, absolutely joking, but Steve still gives her a horrified look and makes a show of sliding his keys back into his pocket, patting the denim for safe keeping. She sticks her tongue out at him, and he flicks her cheek.
Eddie does end up getting some beer, and Steve allows himself a few sips. They’ll be here for at least a few hours, he’ll surely sober up by then. He also samples the gigantic turkey leg that Eddie gets, and Robin wrinkles her nose in disgust at the messy nature of the food.
As they walk around, Steve finds himself getting into the spirit more than he had expected. They eat, watch musical performances, and shop at the little stalls set up by various vendors. Eddie buys a few rings for himself, and buys a handmade mug for Uncle Wayne. Robin indulges in candles and soaps, and even dares to see a fortune teller.
“She said that I’ll meet my future husband soon,” she says, giggling. “Clearly she’s a fraud, or she’d know I’m not interested.”
When Robin runs off to find a bathroom, somehow, Eddie and Steve end up standing around a demonstration about medieval punishments and torture, which Steve expects to be gruesome, and quickly finds he would rather hear gritty, gorey details than stand her and watch this happen.
A pretty girl, probably around their age, is locked into a pair of wooden stocks, and—
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Steve mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
Eddie looks absolutely delighted as he leans in close. “What’s wrong, Stevie? The demonstration isn’t bothering you, is it?” he asks. His cheeks are flushed, too. A few months ago, Eddie would probably be the one stuttering and staring at the ground right now, but ever since he introduced this little world to Steve, he’s gained a confidence about it that only comes out when he gets to tease Steve into oblivion.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up, I’m trying to watch. Maybe I can get some pointers from these guys.”
‘These guys’ refers to the two men who have started tickling the girl’s trapped feet, and frantic giggles fill the air and make Steve’s stomach flip.
“Oh, she’s handling this better than you would,” Eddie continues to tease. “I’d already be called every insult under the sun if you couldn’t kick me instead.”
“I will kick you right now,” Steve threatens. It’s a complete lie. He’s frozen to the spot on the grass, torn between watching and focusing on the grass. Everyone else in the crowd is behaving like this is so normal, no big deal, just a silly show.
One of the men has moved behind the girl to tickle her ribs, her arms secured above her head. Steve crosses his arms over his chest, subconsciously protecting his own sensitive spots, like just watching her could tickle him, too.
“You love that spot,” Eddie coos. “You make the cutest sounds when I tickle you there.”
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” Steve grits out.
“Sure you will, sweetheart. Can it wait ‘til after I’ve made you cry real pretty for me?”
Just then, Robin appears at his side. “This looks like my worst nightmare,” she says. “I hope this girl is getting paid well.”
Steve makes a noise of agreement, but can’t bring himself to look over. Eddie Munson is going to be the fucking death of him. Thankfully, Robin is immediately bored of the display and drags them off to explore. Eddie subtly gives Steve’s side a quick pinch as he walks past him, and Steve suddenly can’t wait to go home.
***
“You are a fucking menace,” Steve accuses the moment they’ve made it through the door.
His parents aren’t home, Robin was dropped off back at her house, and now, Steve is alone with Eddie for the first time all day, and he refuses to voice how excited he is for whatever Eddie’s got planned.
But Eddie just grins, tugging off the more elaborate pieces of his costume, leaving himself in socks, boxers, and a white t-shirt. He makes his way to the kitchen, comes back with two cans of beer, sits on the couch like he isn’t ignoring the clear tension in the room.
Steve gapes at him for a minute before joining him on the couch, kicking off his boots and taking a beer as well. Maybe Eddie’s changed his mind…Maybe he just isn’t the mood, and Steve isn’t going to pressure him into anything.
But…Well, he has a sneaking suspicion that isn’t the case at all.
“If you’re waiting for me to ask, it’s not gonna happen,” he says.
“Ask for what?” Eddie tilts his head curiously, but there’s a glint in his eye that proves Steve’s theory.
“Nothing,” Steve replies, playing along. “All that talk back there just made me think you had a plan for when we got home. But if you’re not interested, that’s fine too.”
“Did you want me to have a plan?”
Steve huffs. “Maybe. But if you don’t, then let’s forget about it.”
“Oh, c’mon baby,” Eddie says, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulling him close. “All you’ve gotta do is ask if you want it so bad.”
His cheeks burn. Stubborn as ever, he shakes his head.
Eddie sighs with exaggerated disappointment. “If you insist. I guess I’ll just keep my hands to myself tonight…”
“Good,” Steve says, and turns the television on.
It takes two beers and a stupid scene in a film to break him. It’s a quick, barely there tickle, but the character’s laugh makes Steve perk up like a dog hearing a doorbell ring.
“Fine,” he says.
“What’s fine?” Eddie asks.
“Just fucking tickle me, you dick.”
Eddie grins and wastes no time, lunging across the couch and pinning Steve to the cushions.
“I knew you’d crack eventually, sweetheart,” he teases. “Sorry we don’t have quite the same set up, but I’ll hold you down real nice, okay?”
Steve is already grinning. He can’t help it, he’s so lovestruck by his boyfriend and desperate to laugh his head off. And laugh he does when Eddie goes straight for his ribs, scratching at the dips between each little bone.
“There’s that pretty sound,” he says, pressing a kiss to Steve’s jaw that is both sweet and ticklish under the current circumstance.
The stupid shirt with the laces is pulled over his head and discarded on the floor, and Eddie pins Steve’s wrists and tells him to stay still before exploring each ticklish spot on his torso, making him shriek and cackle and snort like a fool.
He doesn’t stay still for very long, arms shooting down to his sides when Eddie attacks his belly with blunt fingernails, and Eddie scolds him but doesn’t stop.
As he squirms on the couch, giggling like mad, he wonders if they sell some of those bondage contraptions there. He thinks that they should go back to the Ren Faire sometime.
Fandom: Heartstopper (season 2 so might contain a couple of spoilers)
Characters: Youssef Farouk/Nathan Ajayi
Summary: They spend the night together and Youssef might be overthinking, well, everything.
A/N: @ongodihopenooneirlfindsthis wanted some Mr Farouk/Mr Ajayi, so I complied!
Words: 960
Youssef didn’t tell Nathan that he was his first, although Nathan could probably guess it. It hadn’t been what he’d imagined when he’d pictured his love life, but to be fair Youssef had never seen a man in the picture anyway, being so far in the closet he’d not put the pieces together until his 28th birthday when he’d left the club having made out with a stranger. He’d been thinking of his lips all night and came out to his best friend in the morning.
He felt silly for even putting Nathan in the vicinity of the concept of a love life, when all they’d done was share the night together on a stupid school trip to Paris, mostly because a student had decided to barf all over Nathan’s bed. It had been courtesy to offer to share his bed. It had been something entirely else to let Nathan kiss him.
“Mr Farouk,” Nathan said with a smile, cupping his face in a way that made him feel safe, as ridiculous as that sounded. “You can stop me anytime.”
And Youssef, having spent most of the school year pretending he hadn’t seen Nathan’s glances and that he himself wasn’t loving every second of it, didn’t stop him.
“Never call me Mr Farouk in bed again,” he said later, poking at Nathan’s side. “Unless you want me to call you Mr Ajayi.”
Nathan grinned. “Who says I wouldn’t like that?”
Youssef huffed out a laugh. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“It’s a little weird, yes,” he agreed and they both laughed, stupid teenagers at heart and Youssef wondered if this is what it was like for their students, who were running around the hotel giggling and thinking they were getting away with it.
“Should we stop them?” Youssef had asked before Darcy had shown up much too drunk and solidified that, yes, maybe they should’ve stopped them.
“Let them have their fun,” Nathan had said, smiling in that way that he always did while he thought of those kids. It was one of Youssef’s favorite smiles of his and he would often bring their students up just to see it.
On one hand, had they not let them have their fun they probably wouldn’t have ended up in the same bed, so maybe Youssef should’ve been grateful for it. He poked Nathan again just to have an excuse to touch him, this time aiming for his ribs with the intention of moving upward, to see him laugh, although Nathan seemed to be laughing for different reasons now. Youssef poked him again just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.
“You’re ticklish.” It wasn’t a question and Youssef wasn’t smiling. Somehow, despite everything they’d done that night, it was this which made Youssef realize he might’ve bitten off more than he could chew with this one, that he couldn’t keep it casual for the life of him, and that he would transfer schools if Nathan decided to change anything about the way he interacted with him.
“A little,” Nathan admitted. “Just the ribs though, don’t get any ideas.”
Youssef swallowed, tried for playfulness although it didn’t come naturally to him. “Well, you’ve got plenty of ribs.”
Nathan started laughing before Youssef started poking him again, and maybe he should’ve expected it but the hand on his own ribs surprised him anyway as Nathan tried to launch a counter attack, turning it into a stupid tickle fight that had Youssef giggling like a child. His tickle spots were definitely not limited to just his ribs, which Nathan discovered quickly. He was almost grateful, because it introduced him to a new smile which would compete with that fond one he was so, well, fond of: one of pure delight.
“Do you give up?” Nathan asked, having pinned him to the bed with a hand hovering over Youssef’s armpit, fingers wiggling so tauntingly it was nearly too much.
But Youssef found he wasn’t ready for it to stop, wasn’t ready for the touching and playfulness and teasing words to end, even if it meant he embarrassed himself with how giggly it turned him, how much he blushed each time Nathan paused to let him breathe.
He jutted his chin out. “Never.”
Nathan tilted his head. “Oh really? Suit yourself then.”
Youssef almost screamed when the fingers dug into his armpit again, gentle yet firm in how they curled into the skin. Nathan had his arm pinned with his other hand, having straddled his hips in a way that Youssef would think of for weeks to come. His own free hand was of little use, although he did use it to tickle Nathan’s ribs when he felt he couldn’t take it anymore, which promptly made him stop.
“Hey!” He covered the spot which Youssef had poked. “That’s cheating.”
“How is that cheating?” Youssef asked, his voice laced in a laugh. “You’re the one torturing me.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
Maybe his words had carried too much truth, or maybe he’d seen the way Youssef had flushed, because Nathan was suddenly getting off of him and Youssef found he missed him already.
“I kind of fancy room service,” he said. “You reckon they’re still open?”
Youssef shifted on the bed, aware of how undressed he was. “You could check.”
Nathan grabbed the phone off the bedside table. “What do you want? My treat.”
Youssef shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
“You sure?”
He nodded and said, trying to be funny, “Dinner usually tends to happen before nights like these, right?”
Nathan laughed. Youssef wished so badly that he would kiss him again.
Much later, after Youssef had been freaking out for several days straight, Nathan took him out to dinner and then kissed him all night.
hello!! i am humbly offering my services to y'all because my job pays me on the most random, inconvenient schedule and i'm without money for a solid half of the month. all the information about commissions is listed on this page of my carrd!! ♡
Summary: Wylan is always doing things with his hands, and it makes Jesper’s find wander. (Based on a lovely prompt by @nhasablogg!! Thank you so much for the idea!! Hope y’all enjoy!!)
It’s stupid, really.
Jesper feels like a fool for even noticing it, let alone caring. But falling head-over-heels for Wylan has proven to make him quite a fool, and he isn’t necessarily complaining.
It’s just…Ever since he saw Wylan first play piano, he can’t stop watching the chemist’s hands. If the musical skill was not already attractive, something about the graceful, fluid way that Wylan’s fingers moved was captivating…And, extremely flustering.
Because even when he isn’t playing the piano or the flute, Wylan’s fingers are always moving. When he’s thinking deeply, he wiggles his fingers in the air like he’s plucking imaginary strings.
And, it’s so stupid, because Jesper normally never gets flustered like this, but lately, he can’t stop thinking about those fingers and what they could do to him. (Get your mind out of the gutter.)
Tag 3-5 blogs you want to text but you are to shy to reach out to
This is very sweet! Maybe this will motivate me to reach out more but here are some very lovely talented blogs for incredible art and writing to check out regardless!
Anonymous said: Hi! Could you write one where Steve is messing with Robin so she straddles him and tickles his belly button? Maybe they’re at his house having a sleepover and he makes fun of her haircut?
Words: 920
Steve became suspicious when Robin didn’t want to take her hat off in the middle of july. “You’re gonna get heat stroke,” he told her, going back and forth between opening his window and slamming it shut upon realizing it was still too early in the evening for the air to have cooled down. “I’m serious, Robin, I don’t feel like driving you to the hospital if you collapse.”
She rolled her eyes, pulling the neon green thing lower down so that it covered her eyebrows. “It’s comfy.”
“It’s psychotic behavior. Did you shave your head or somethin’?” It was mostly a joke, but the way Robin tensed up made him gasp. “You didn’t.”
“I didn’t!” she was quick to reassure him, pulling a strand of hair out of the hat. “See? Hair.”
“So then what’s your deal?”
“I might’ve cut my hair myself?”
Steve waited for her to laugh and say she was joking, but no laughter came. “Robin, oh my god.”
“Listen,” she started, sitting up, legs crossed on Steve’s bed, where she was about to spend the night like many other nights. “I- it’s a gay thing.”
“Okay?”
“Shorter hair? Like short short hair.”
“Right.”
“The hairdresser never wants to cut it as short as I want.”
Steve was beginning to see where this was going. “So you decided to take matters into your own hands.”
“Exactly. But-” She winced, grabbing her hat, but not pulling it off. “But I messed up.”
Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You should’ve asked for help.”
“I know.”
Her voice sounded small, which was fucking terrifying to hear and Steve found himself reaching out to squeeze her knee. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Promise you won’t laugh if I show you?”
“‘Course not.”
“It’s getting hot.”
“Told you.”
She sighed and shoved the hat off, her hair a mess of tangles on top of her head. Steve waited for it to settle down enough before he said anything, only to promptly realize it wasn’t settling down at all.
“Oh my god.”
“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”
“Woah, woah, am I laughing?” He wasn’t laughing, but that was mostly due to shock. “Robin, I- Did you try to cut layers?”
Robin nodded wordlessly and Steve mentally wondered how he could convince her to go get it fixed at a hairdresser. “It’s- nice. It’s camp.”
“Did Eddie teach you cultural words again?”
“It’s a good thing he did. I can definitely see the vision here.” He framed her face with his hands. “Way ahead of your time. A trendsetter.”
Robin snorted. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not! It’s-” He waved his hands around, trying to think of a word. “Cool?” The way he’d said it, slightly high pitched, laced in a question, accidentally made way for a laugh which came out at the end, and he was already apologizing by the time Robin had tackled him.
“You’re so dead, Harrington!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just-”
“It looks bad. Just say it.”
“I’m sure we can get it fixed-” He had no time to say anything else as Robin’s fingers were worming their way under his arms, nimble and strong and unbearably ticklish. “Wait, wait, I’m only trying to he- stop!”
Straddling his hips, Robin and her ridiculous haircut hunched over him, her frown slowly smoothing out as he laughed and laughed and begged and laughed. She’d caught him off guard, okay? He could totally fight back otherwise. Probably.
“Oh-kay, no, not there, come on-”
Robin had this thing where she would zero in on a spot and not move away until Steve was a puddle beneath her. This time it just so happened to already be one of his worst spots, much worse than underarms which she’d only tortured for a minute. As Robin ignored him and tickled the edges of his belly button, shoving his flailing arms away easily, Steve felt he would pay for three of her haircuts if only she stopped.
It was a good thing they were alone, because Steve’s scream could surely be heard throughout the whole house. “Robin!”
“This is what you get,” she said, finally grinning at him which was at least a bit of a win for him. “I told you not to laugh.”
“I barely did- oh my god!”
His hands being free was nearly worse, as he came close to relief and then pulled right away from it. Robin was occupying one of her own hands purely with blocking his attempts, her other dancing around his belly, but mostly keeping close to his navel. His shirt was still pulled down, but it tickled too much nevertheless.
The first time she’d discovered this particular spot was a day he could never forget no matter how much he tried. The persistent pokes, over and over again, laughing when he jumped. Embarrassing, but also strangely nice to feel close enough that this could be happening. She’d discovered many spots since, but that memory was one of his strongest.
Also maybe because Robin kept bringing it up, making a very clear reference now as she was poking at his navel over and over. His whole body jerked with each poke, his laughter becoming choppy. He felt nearly as ridiculous as her haircut. Maybe he shouldn’t tell her that though. Although how much worse could this get if he did?
She stuck her hand under his shirt and Steve found out just how much worse it could get, all right.
tl;dr - Please read content creator’s information - their pinned posts, bios, carrds, whatever, and start actually respecting their boundaries. If there’s anything that I or others can do to make this info more accessible or easy to understand, please let me know.
Okay, you know this is serious because Razz is actually using capital letters /lh. But seriously, I hate being a dick on here, but the genuine lack of etiquette and kindness towards fic writers has been getting on my nerves for years, and my annoyance has hit another peak. Rather than going off on the people who sent me the specific messages that triggered this, I’m just going to delete the asks and make this post instead.
If you want to send a writer a prompt, please, I’m like actually begging, take a minute to read their information. My pinned post has a link to my carrd, is that not clear enough or easily accessible? /gen like if it isn’t easy I will find a new solution, I want this to be mutually beneficial. I get less asks that make me want to rip my hair out, you don’t get snarky replies to your prompts, LOL.
Panda's Notes: Hobie is the most Switch Spider there is. I don't take notes; I don't debate; I have decided. >w< Feel free to send all thanks/blame to @rosileeduckie for the ending, which was inspired by the very lovely art they made. >w< Special thanx also to @ssnicker-doodless for helping with beta reading.
[Ao3] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]
Gwen peered over the back of the long couch, resting her chin on her arms as she pouted a bit. Hobie was snoring faintly, one arm flopped across his face as he slept. It was just after ten o’clock, and, frankly, Gwen was getting a little impatient.
She slipped quietly around the couch, and, being as careful as possible, she lifted his head and climbed onto the couch, setting his head down on her crossed legs. He huffed softly, shifting slightly in his sleep and yawning.
Gwen smiled slightly, poking gently at his nose a few times to watch his face scrunch up before leaning over to wiggle her fingers against his ribcage.
Hobie huffed again and squirmed, a smile sneaking across his face as steady chuckles rolled out of him. Gwen snickered to herself, letting her hands crawl over his stomach and out to his sides. He started to laugh softly, rough bass-sounding giggles shaking his body as he started to move. His hands stretched out into the air before he pressed his palms against the arm of the couch on either side of Gwen’s body. He yawned softly before one of his eyes opened groggily.
“Oi, Gwenny…” He grumbled, glancing curiously at her hands for a moment.
“Geez, I thought you’d never wake up.” She chuckled, starting to tickle him a bit more earnestly. She was shocked when he didn’t yell or push himself away from her. Instead, he let himself laugh, his voice tangled up in those giggles as her nails scribbled against his midriff.
“You’re not moving much, are you, tough guy?” She teased, sneakily tugging his shirt up a little. “You got a giggle bug in there or something?”
“You’re not funny—Gwen!” He barked out a louder laugh when she scribbled around his navel, one of his legs kicking at the other end of the couch.
“Yeah, that's my name; you need something?” She taunted, poking quickly up his torso and resting her hands on his elbows. She walked her fingers along his sleeves toward his armpits, grinning brighter at the way he shivered while keeping his hands in place. “Yeah…I’m starting to think that gigglebug is just you~”
Hobie snickered, smirking as he narrowed his eyes up at her. “Call me that again; see what ha—Ack!” He cried out as her fingers dug and scribbled into his armpits, his fingers curling slightly against the couch as he burst into cackles.
“Call you what, Hobie~? A cute, ticklish, wittle Giggleb—Ah! Wait, wait, wait!”
Like a trap snapping shut, Hobie’s hands suddenly attached themselves to Gwen’s sides, his thumbs pressing around her flanks while his long fingers wiggled over her sides toward her back. “What’s the matter, Gwenny? Always trying to start stuff you can’t finish with me, aren’t ya?” The smirk on his face shifted to a more genuine grin as he shoved his hands up into her armpits, chuckling as she squealed and tried to lean away from him. He let her go as she leaned back, dropping his hands to sneak scribbles at the soles of her feet and snickering as she nearly kicked him.
“That’s for stealing my Chucks, by the way.” He chuckled. “If you ain’t wearin’ ‘em, you ain’t safe.”
Gwen rolled her eyes and giggled, starting to pull her legs back when Hobie’s hands returned to their position on the arm of the couch.
“Ah, no, sorry, love; you’re not leaving yet.” He shrugged, smirking up at her.
“Aw, what?” She asked with a fake pout, returning her own hands to gently tickling along his arms. “Your gigglebug still hungry or something?”
Hobie somehow seemed to stifle an emotional response to that one, despite the giggles shaking him. “Oi, tell me: What’d I tell you about waking me up in the morning when I let you crash here?”
Gwen’s hands went still. Hobie kept laughing. She tried to scramble away from him, but he grabbed onto the jacket she was wearing as he sat up, dragging her into his lap and digging his hands back into her waist.
“The rule is NOT TO WAKE ME UP!” He barked over her laughter, grinning a bit deviously as he watched her flail.
-------------
“Hey, little man.” Hobie called, lightly tugging Miles’ headphones.
He had perched himself upside down on the ceiling, head buried in the sketchbook in his hand. He tipped his head, acknowledging him with a glance.
Hobie hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “You wanna grab some couch time with me real quick, mate?”
Miles hesitated a bit, but he closed the pencil into his sketchbook before placing his hand on the ceiling to swing himself down. Within a minute he was lying across Hobie’s lap, his headphones wrapped around his neck and Hobie tapping casually on his stomach.
Miles grinned warily. “Am I in trouble?”
“Only if you want to be.” Hobie teased, shrugging as he dragged Miles’ shirt up with one finger while his other hand pulled Miles’ hood over his face. “Count to three for me?”
“Shouldn’t you be the one to—Naah! I wasn’t ready!” His voice came out in a loud cackle as Hobie blew a raspberry against his stomach, and he grabbed at the arm holding his hood down.
“I heard ‘one, two’, mate; simple as.” Hobie said, the smirk clear in his voice while one of his fingers traced circles around Miles’ bellybutton.
“You know what I said.” He giggled helplessly. “I didn’t even say three—Hobie!” Another raspberry; another giggly screech as Miles’ legs flailed against the couch cushions.
“…You said three.” Hobie snickered, watching Miles try to wrestle his arm away before reaching one of his hands toward the floor and— “Hey, n-no, quit that!”
Miles had reached out, mostly blind, and tickled along the edge of his foot and up the back of his leg. Hobie quickly grabbed his arm, pinning it beside his head and scribbling under his arm with his free hand. Miles shrieked, cackling loudly and pawing at Hobie’s shoulder where he could.
“You tapping out already, Miles? Here I thought I trained you tougher than that.” Hobie gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with a grin. “Or is it just because you got too many Squeak Spots?” His voice pitched hilariously toward the end, and he snatched the hand that was trying to crawl under his own arm to pin it over Miles’ head.
“Squeak Spots like that one?” Miles tried to tease as he caught his breath.
Hobie chuckled, maintaining a calm smirk and pulling Miles’ hood over his face again. “Nah, man. Squeak Spots are like this—” Miles squeaked and flinched at a quick poke to his bellybutton. “—Or this—” A screech at two fingers being jabbed under both of his arms. “Definitely this one.” While Miles’ arms were clamped at his sides, Hobie’s hands slipped under his hood, fingers crawling along his neck and scratching behind his ears. His face shifted to a bit of a sneer as Miles cracked into noisy giggles, snorts and squeaks escaping between them as he grabbed loosely at Hobie’s sleeves and kicked against the couch.
“You sound like Mayday, bruv; this’ll get you done out.” He teased. “Some mook is gonna get hands ‘round your throat, and you’ll be bustin’ up like who knows what.”
“I-I don’t understand—” Miles was barely able to form words through the giggles, only to get cut off by Hobie pushing his head to one side and blowing a loud raspberry into his neck. The resulting squeal put all the others to shame.
“Understand that well enough, Smiles~?” Hobie smirked and lifted Miles enough to slip out from under his full—now basically dead—weight. He let the teen’s legs rest across his lap, tapping a rhythm as he caught his breath.
“Nooo, don’t call me that.” Miles practically whined, little giggles still slipping into his voice. “I couldn’t get my family to shake that off until I was, like, thirteen.”
“’S pretty recent. Bet I could bring it back.” Hobie lightly poked a few lines across Miles’ foot.
“Hobie…” Miles kicked gently, pushing himself to sit up.
“What? Your parents like me; I could slip some suggestion, easy. I’m magic like that.”
“My parents don’t even like the friends who live in my dimension.” He gave a bit of a stretch, pulling his arms across his chest. “And I would have to actually kill you.”
“Pfft, like you even could.”
“I dunno.” Miles eyed him for a moment before putting his hands up, and the tiniest sparks of electricity jumped between his fingers. “I think I could.”
Hobie’s face might have twitched a bit, and he crossed his arms as he stared the kid down. “Square up then.”
Miles visibly brightened, shifting quickly out of Hobie’s lap and grabbing at his side with tingly hands. Hobie prickled at the shock, but he hardly bothered holding back. He curled up slightly, laughing softly and trying to keep his arms still.
“No fair; this worked on you last time!” Miles giggled, poking small shocks up and down Hobie’s side and ribs.
“Wasn’t expecting it last time; not my fault if you turn yourself into a one-trick—pfft, HA!”
Miles had shoved Hobie over onto the couch, one hand switching between quick squeezes and scribbles on the softest part of his hip while the other crawled along his leg to scratch his knee.
“Oh, ticklish legs? Figures you’d have Tall People Problems.” Miles teased, kneading along the back of Hobie’s calf and under his knee.
“S-Shut up!” Hobie demanded through loud giggles, crossing his arms over his face. “You little brat!”
“Hey, uncalled for!” Miles smirked at him, fingers crawling down around his ankles and up his socked soles. “You talk awfully big for someone who likes being tickled so m—”
Miles yelped as Hobie suddenly kicked him in the ribs. It hardly even hurt, but it easily threw him over the arm of the couch, leaving him slightly breathless on the floor. He let out a sort of giggle, his head spinning a little from the fall.
Hobie chuckled, having caught his breath almost instantly. He loosely held Miles’ ankle where it remained from him falling over, leaning his weight on his leg and smirking down at him. “See, now you’re in trouble, mate.”
-------------
It was actually a little rare for Pavitr to come to Hobie’s dimension. Something about the near-constant, raging anarchy made Pavitr kinda nervous. Hobie could admit that the comparatively chill vibe of Mumbatten was cozy in a way, not even mentioning how pretty a city it was.
But sometimes, you just don’t want to leave your own couch; and thankfully, the area seemed chill enough lately. So, Pavitr sat cross-legged on Hobie’s couch, wildly hitting buttons on a game controller as he tried to fight a boss. Hobie leaned backwards over the back of the couch, glancing between the upside-down views of the television and Pavitr’s determined look. He smirked to himself, reaching to run his hand obnoxiously over the side of his face.
“Oi, Pavi.” He said in a whisper, poking Pavitr’s cheek. “Pav, hey.” He poked his neck, grinning as he flinched. So began a series of mixed whispers and pokes and pinches around Pavitr’s head, escalating quickly to lightly ruffling his hair and tickling purposefully under his chin.
“Hobie!” He finally caved to giggles and paused the game, flailing one hand at Hobie’s and curling slightly away from him. “What do you want?”
Hobie shrugged with a smirk, and Pavitr groaned, shaking his head with a smile and refocusing on the game. Hobie yawned and stretched his back over the couch, feeling his shoulders and spine pop after a second. He watched Pavitr kite and jab at the boss for at least a couple of minutes before he finally rolled over. He rested his chin on his arms, his elbow nudging against Pavitr’s shoulder.
“Oi, Pavi…” He barely kept a straight face when Pavitr slowly cringed away from him. Boss was at, maybe, ten percent health. “What’d you say if I asked you to tickle me, eh?”
A look of visible confusion cut through Pavitr’s ‘focused gamer’ face, which was a shame, because that crit he just got put the boss at five percent health. “You—Wait, what?” He glanced up for half a second, panicking a little when he almost got hit.
Hobie had already moved though, now leaning over the couch directly behind his guest-turned-prey. “Ooh, too slow, mate.” He sighed as if he were disappointed, and his hands suddenly appeared at Pavitr’s sides, squeezing up and down his flanks. He pressed his thumbs firmly into his hipbones, and he sneered as Pavitr practically fell to pieces with bright laughter.
“W-Wait, no; not now, Hobie, please!” He just barely managed to hit the pause button again, and Hobie lifted his hands away.
“What’d you pause it for? You’re close.” Hobie was grinning like a fiend, letting his hands hover tauntingly.
“I know what you’re doing.” Pavitr couldn’t keep the nervous giggles out of his voice, and he didn’t dare look back. “Not my first time around the block with you.”
“Aw, c’mon now; I’ll be nice.”
“No, you won’t…”
“Nah, I won’t.” He leaned and rested his hands on Pavitr’s legs. “I think you just need one more hit though. How about it?”
The pause lasted a bit longer; Pavitr whined, and Hobie smirked at the pout he could picture on his face. Without warning, the game started up again, and so, with equal warning, Hobie’s hands scribbled along Pavitr’s thighs and knees.
“Tricky little bastard.” Hobie teased, resting his chin on Pavitr’s shoulder as he giggled loudly. “Yeah, maybe stop missing the guy.”
“Shut up!” Pavitr giggled, and the game paused again. Hobie pat his thighs, chuckling softly. “Hobie…”
“It’s just one more hit, mate. Pretty sure, anyway.” He let his fingers walk, slowly, almost politely toward his knees again. “Waitin’ on you.”
Pavitr flicked through the pause menus, using a few items before, once again, dropping back into the game when he thought it was safest. Hobie let him have that one second of thinking he wasn’t paying attention before his hands scratched and scribbled at both of his feet, ripping an adorable shriek out of his mouth that was quickly followed by cackles.
“Oof, maybe someone should consider a costume that doesn’t go around barefoot.” He hummed, poking his fingers between Pavitr’s toes.
Suddenly: an explosion appeared on the screen, the boss keeled over with a roar before suddenly bursting in a cloud of smoke and random drops.
“Well, damn, Pav. Look at you!” Hobie chuckled, nuzzling playfully against his face, and giving a few more gentle scribbles at his feet. “Respect, really.”
Pavitr stonewalled him—Well, almost, scratching between his toes still made him squeak like a mouse—and he clicked through the menus to save the game without looking back at Hobie once. He leaned to slide the controller onto the table before sitting up; he rolled his shoulders for a moment and cracked his neck as he uncrossed his legs. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it back out.
And then he grabbed Hobie by his arm and the back of his shirt, heaving him over the couch and slamming him against the cushions harder than necessary. Hobie didn’t put up much of a fight, laughing softly as the wind was knocked out of him on impact. By the time he looked up, Pavitr had moved to perch on the couch arm, crossing his arms as he tried to glare down at him.
“Pavi?” Hobie asked casually, mimicking his crossed arms. Pavitr held up one finger, cringing a little as he stood up and stepped onto the back of the couch.
He crouched down again, smirking this time. “Every boss has a second phase, Hobie.” He quipped, snapping his fingers.
Hobie snorted, shaking his head. “Took ya a minute cookin’ that one up, eh?” He grinned as Pavitr sat on his legs and glared at him again. He grabbed Hobie’s wrist in one hand, drawing his fingers down his forearm and tracing the edge of his hand.
Hobie prickled, biting at his tongue and the piercing on his lip as his whole arm tingled under that touch. “Y-Y’know anything about palm readin’ yet, bruv?”
Pavitr gave him that look he kept specifically for people who tease him about the same old stereotypes. “I do actually!” He said brightly, the sarcasm probably indecipherable to someone who didn’t know him as well as Hobie did. “Like, this line right here tells me you’re super ticklish!” He scratched gingerly along the largest visible line on his hand.
“This line shows you’re prone to being really bratty if you don’t get enough tickles.” He traced the muscle around Hobie’s thumb.
“Each of these lines—” He traced up each of Hobie's fingers, the smile on his face still genuinely sweet. “—Represents every little tickle spot you like. And, yeah, there are a lot of them.”
Hobie was…well, “struggling” was a fitting word. His free hand hadn’t really moved from where his arms had been crossed, but he gripped at his sleeve as Pavitr started teasing his palm. It tickled so badly, but at the same time, it wasn’t enough to really break him. His breath left him in shaky giggles that he had already given up on trying to stop, and his arm twitched as if every muscle inside was a tightening spring.
“Easy to forget, but this spot here—” He traced gentle circles on the back of Hobie’s hand, smiling brighter as his fingers clenched. “—keeps track of all your tickly energy. Even when you’re tickling someone else. And this last one…” He paused, staring as if he was confused. “Here, let me just—”
He suddenly blew a raspberry on the palm of his hand, and Hobie fell apart, his giggles bursting into loud laughter as his fingers tried to scratch Pavitr’s neck. The speed at which Pavitr shut that down made him flinch.
“Yeah, sorry; I couldn’t read it.” Pavitr shrugged, removing his grip from around Hobie’s fingers. “But, it pretty much just says ‘Tickletickletickletic—’"
“Pavi!” Hobie practically snorted, finally yanking his hand away when Pavitr scribbled at his palm. He let out a few tired laughs as he slowly caught his breath, flexing his hand in an effort to get rid of those tingles.
“Not gonna work, Hobie~ I thought you wanted me to tickle you!”
“Shut up…” Hobie rested his arms over his face, still giggling quietly and twitching a little as Pavitr started to poke him again.
“Poor, poor Gigglebug.”
“Do not call me that when you’re in throttling range.”
“Oh? Why? Would it be like this?” He moved his hands quickly up to Hobie’s neck, fingers scribbling at his collarbones and under his chin.
Despite the new wave of loud giggles, Hobie shoved himself to sit upright, wrapping his arms tight around Pavitr and leaning into his shoulder. Pavitr giggled quietly, getting one of his own arms free and tracing gently on Hobie’s back.
“I win.” He teased sweetly.
“I am going to kill you.” Hobie’s threat came on shuddering breath, and he snickered as nails dragged over his spine.
-------------
“Ooh, he’s taking the vest off!” Gwen called teasingly, snatching it out of the air when it was thrown at her head. “So serious all of a sudden.”
“Fuck you.” Hobie smirked; it felt good to be able to say that again. “‘less you want to go first, Gwenny.” He pulled his arm across his chest before rolling his shoulder.
“No, no; do your macho thing.” She taunted, slipping the vest on almost automatically. “So, Miles? Explain.”
The little gang was gathered in one of the training rooms at Spider Society HQ, sharing a few stories of feats from each of their dimensions, when Miles brought up the night he and Gwen had shut down Kingpin’s collider. Mostly, how he had barely survived the aftermath of doing that.
“Okay, so, like I said, the collider’s collapsing in on itself; implosions, explosions, it’s just crazy.” He began, twirling the strings on his hood between his fingers. “And I’m just there holding a string of web, and well…” He shrugged, lying across Pavitr’s lap. “Didn’t let go.”
“Pretty sure we’ve all done the lifeline before, bruv.” Hobie huffed. “Don’t see why ya wanted to bet on it so bad.”
“I never said it was a bet! You’re the one who—” Miles stopped himself when he caught sight of the smug look on Hobie’s face. “Look, just hold the thing, and don’t let go. Three minutes. Sound good?”
Hobie mulled it over, letting himself sink back to the floor. “Make it five. I’m showin’ you brats up today.” He smirked, setting a timer on his watch.
Pavitr chuckled, playing with Miles’ hair and glancing at Gwen. “He’s asking for it again.”
“Is he?” Gwen placed a hand on her chest, filling her eyes with as much shock as she could manage. “I never would have guessed.”
They giggled; Miles didn’t catch on until a few seconds later; and Hobie went a bit still.
He rested his arm across his knee and set his chin on his hand, levelling his eyes at the three of them with a stern sort of look. “Oi...”
His tone shut them up instantly, and he couldn’t resist smirking.
“Since you all like laughing so much, I suggest usin’ your five minutes wisely. Because when they’re up, well…” He shrugged casually, firing a small amount of webbing onto the floor and taking the strand in both hands as he laid back on the floor.
The trio glanced warily at each other before moving to line up beside him.
“Hm… Let’s try—” Gwen lifted Hobie up onto his side, and she and the boys crowded against his back. “Thoughts? Arguments?”
Pavitr leaned against Hobie’s thigh, smiling brightly. “Good here.”
Miles pat gently along Hobie’s arm, reaching to start the timer on Hobie’s watch. “Ready when you are.”
“Let’s go then!” Gwen declared, and the second Miles pressed the button, thirty fingers promptly set to crawling anywhere they could reach. Barely ten seconds passed before Hobie was struggling to keep his mouth shut. His hands clenched and pulled at the piece of web as snickers shook his frame.
“Sooo, five minutes, huh?” Miles snickered, scribbling gently along his armpit and ribs with both hands. “How’s everyone been? Hobie?”
“Shut up.” Hobie snapped at him, biting his lip on a few giggles.
“I’ve been great, personally!” Pavitr called, leaning slightly as he squeezed Hobie’s knee and around his hip. “Projects at school are going well; Margo said she might have a web shooter design for me; ooh, and I got to hang out with our favorite Gigglebug just recently.”
Hobie’s legs kicked slightly, and he barely managed to keep his mouth shut.
Gwen giggled as she watched Hobie’s face, scratching quickly across his stomach and up his side. “Ooh, our favorite Gigglebug? Maybe your favorite, Pavi.” She teased, sneaking one of her hands to pinch Miles’ waist and grinning as he elbowed her back. “I can’t blame you though; he does have this cute tickle button.” Her fingers managed to track down his navel through his suit, finally dragging out some unfiltered giggles.
“So do you!” All three boys said suddenly, eyes on her, and she was taken aback. They all fell into laughter, hands faltering enough to give Hobie a chance to breathe.
Miles snickered and leaned on Gwen for a moment, one hand digging fingers under Hobie’s arm while the other crawled along his neck. “I love that you didn’t tell me about your little nickname, by the way, Hobie; it’s awfully cute.”
“Why the fuck would I—No!” A choked laugh cut through his threatening tone when both of Miles’ hands moved back under his arm.
Miles shrugged, smirking down at him. “Well, if you’re going to beg for us to tickle you, it’d be a lot easier if we had a name for your little moods.”
Hobie just laughed and tried to curl up, his boots squeaking against the floor as he kicked.
“You still holding on, Hobie~?” Gwen called playfully, goosing his side and hip. “You know you can just admit you’re having fun.”
“F-Fuck off already.” Hobie’s voice was teetering on breathless with how he was straining to stop his giggles. “You brats wish you were as strong as I am taking this.”
Miles rolled his eyes and scratched at his ribs, but he blinked as Gwen leaned close to him.
“On my signal, we need to bolt.” She whispered; he practically had to read her lips.
“Wha—?”
“I play drums, Miles; keeping time is the least of what I can do. And he’s definitely jumping you first, so…”
She tapped his knee sharply, and he stammered for a second before turning invisible. Pavitr did a double-take, and as he was pushing himself off the floor, Hobie’s watch started beeping loudly.
The room was suddenly quiet as Hobie’s hands finally came off of the web, and he shut his watch off before running the heel of his palm under his eye.
“Ya always thinkin’ you’re so damn smart.” He murmured, pushing himself to stand up. “I was actually always planning on getting’ you first—” He fired off a shot of web fluid, catching Gwen by the back shoulder of his vest and yanking hard before she could just shrug it off. “Gwenny, I’m sick of you takin’ my shit!”
The sneer on his face said otherwise, especially at her indignant whine when he caught her against his chest. “You threw this at me!” She hardly even put up a fight as he scooped her under his arm, giggling excitedly even before he tickled the back of her neck.
“Yeah, and you sure fuckin’ caught it. Look where that got ya, sis. Oi, losers! The longer I wait for you, the longer I destroy both of ya.”
It was easy to keep Pavitr in his peripheral; his costume didn’t blend at all with the shadows here. Miles, though, Hobie could easily hear him hopping around nearby, inching closer with each landing.
It was hilarious being the only truly unpredictable one in a room, and Hobie loved showing these kids up.
Notes: Commission for @ticklishraspberries. Thank you so, so much for being patient as I worked on this through finals and getting back into the flow of my normal life, you’re seriously amazing and I’ve loved having you as such a loyal customer, even if it is to fuel our mutual love for conguel lol. This fic is set somewhere during their college years, and I had a lot of fun getting to explore all the little details of their lives together <3 I hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Connor’s growing interest in art holds unanticipated consequences for Miguel.
The fascination had started as doodles, drawn miscellaneously on the margins of his notebook or the palm of his hand when Connor was bored in class. Back then, Miguel was still a stranger to Connor, but he sat next to the other in class and watched him as the clock ticked by slower and slower by the minute. Somehow, watching him made mind-numbing lectures far easier to withstand. Miguel’s gaze would follow the swirling structures climbing up the boy’s wrists that always ended in an explosion of some sort in his palm, whether that be a skull cracking open or fire licking up his fingers. Everything with him had been violent like that back then.
Cover For Me || Stranger Things (2016-Present) Tickle Fic
Summary: Robin wants some time off and tries to convince Steve to cover her shift. When he refuses, she pulls out the big guns to change his mind.
Author's Note: This fic was requested by anon! I hope you enjoy!
"Come on, Harrington! Just one shift!"
"Uh, no thanks. As soon as my hours are over, I'm clocking out and going home."
Robin groaned, slumping against the ice cream counter dramatically. "You don't understand, they are ONLY showing 'Rocky Horror' tonight! If I have to stay for both shifts, I'll be too tired to go to the midnight showing and I'll miss it!"
Steve rolled his eyes, restocking the mint chocolate chip with a chuckle. "Sorry, Rob, I've got a date tonight."
The girl scoffed. "With who? You've striked out with every girl you've spoken to today!"
"The back of my eyelids." Steve replied, eye twitching in irritation at the mention of his numerous failed flirtation attempts.
"That's not funny, Steve! This is a serious matter!"
"A movie that came out several years ago that critically bombed is a serious matter?"
"Of course it is! 'Rocky Horror' is only one of the greatest films of all time!" Robin pulled the poster for the showing out of her pocket, unfolding it and shoving it towards the older teen. "Look at that cast! Those outfits! The songs ALONE are enough to put it in the top ten best things ever filmed!"
Steve raised a brow, taking the poster and smirking. "Sure, that's exactly why you like it so much." He subtly slipped a finger over to tap on one of the numerous pretty women on the poster, giving Robin a knowing look. She smacked him on the arm.
"Pleeease, Steve? You've gotta cover my shift, dude!"
"Not gonna happen, Rob."
The girl narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips. "Fine, if you won't willingly do it, I guess I'll just have to force you!"
Steve snorted, bending over to retrieve some extra toppings from behind the counter. "Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do tha-"
His question was cut off by a loud squeak, which he quickly realized (in horror) had come from his own mouth. He whirled around, hand snapping down to bat away the offending hand that had just squeezed his side. He locked eyes with Robin, whose face had morphed into a mischievous grin. His heart dropped.
"Robin..." Steve said slowly.
"Oh, this is gonna be fun!" Robin's hands darted forward, quickly bypassing Steve's fumbling hands and latching onto his sides. The boy immediately curled forwards, trying to squirm away from her playful fingers as they skittered across his torso. He tried to stifle his reactions, he really did, but he never could handle being tickled.
"Rohohohohohobin!" He snickered, immediately busting into giggles.
"Yes, dingus? What is it?" Robin was positively beaming as she found a spot near Steve's lower sides that had him squealing. "Does it tickle?"
"Nohohohohoho shihihihihihit!" Steve sassed, grabbing her wrists as he collapsed into another giggle fit. Robin noted that he wasn't really trying to push her away; interesting. Maybe she'd tease him about that later.
"What was that?" There was a threat in Robin's voice as her fingers suddenly scribble up, beginning to spider across his ribcage. Steve slumped against the counter, shaking as his laughter rose in volume and pitch.
"Nohohohohohohohothing, nohohohohohothing!"
"That's what I thought." Robin scratched between each rib, overserving the way his laughter grew more frantic the higher she went. "Ooh, I think we're getting close to a good spot."
"Nehehehehohohohohooo! Rohohohohohobin, dohohohohohon't!" Steve squealed, shaking his head frantically as she scratched at his uppermost ribs.
"Gonna be nice and cover my shift, Harrington?"
Steve's eyes hardened as he shook his head once more, this time out of stubbornness. "Nohohohoho way!"
Robin shrugged. "Fine, it's your funeral." Her hands slipped up, easily worming their way past his arms. Her fingers dug into his armpits, vibrating into the sensitive hollows in a way that had the boy screaming with laughter.
"Eeeeeehehehehahahahahaha! Nohohohoho, nohohohohohot thehehehere!" Steve cackled, head thrown back as his arms pressed to his sides, desperate to protect the sweet spot currently being exploited.
"Not here? Here? What's wrong, these armpits too ticklish? Do your little goblin children know about this weakness?" Robin teased, unable to hold back a laugh of her own as Steve snorted loudly, a blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears.
"Nohohohoho! And thehehehey ahahahaharen't going tohohohoho!"
"Not unless I tell them." Robin dug in a little harder, earning a loud shriek.
"Nohohohohohohoooooo!" Steve wailed, hiding his face in his hands as he slumped uselessly against the countertop. "Dohohohohon't! Rohohohohohohohobin!"
"You know how to make this stop, Steve. Just agree to my terms and you'll be released." Robin's hands drifted back down, finding his hips (a spot she knew to be just as bad as his armpits, if not worse) and beginning to squeeze at the sensitive bone. Steve arched his back, a chorus of squeals and cackles pouring past his lips.
"Eeeeehehehehahahahahaha! Ohohohohohokay, okay! I'll dohohoho it! Just stahahahahahahahahap!"
Robin immediately pulled back, smirking victoriously. "Yes!" Steve leaned against the counter, shaking with residual giggles as he panted, trying to rub away the last ticklish shocks running through his hips.
Steve shot her a glare, though there was no malice behind it. "Yohou are the devil."
"No, I'm resourceful. There's a difference. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a movie to get ready for..."
Prompt: "Do you like raspberries?" With Steve, Nancy, and Robin.
Author's Note: These little prompt fics won't be nearly as long as my usual work; consider them more like speed writes.
"Do you like raspberries?"
Steve flinched, eyes snapping over to Robin in shock. "Excuse me?" He asked incredulously.
"Raspberries. Do you like them?" The girl repeated, staring at him with a completely straight face.
Steve felt his face heating up at the question; how could she say that shit like it was NOTHING? "Robin!" He hissed lowly.
Robin's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her arms thrown up in exasperation. "What, it's just a question!"
"You know damn well it's not. I know what you're doing and it's not gonna work!" Steve huffed, jumping as the sound of Nancy's giggles suddenly flooded his ears.
"Oh, I see what the problem is." The brunette caught Steve's gaze and his heart gave a little flutter. "He thought you meant the tickly kind."
Robin stared at her blankly. "What? Why would he think that? I obviously meant the fruit." She replied.
Steve felt his face burning even hotter. Oh god, he'd made a serious error in judgement, and the gleam in Nancy's eyes made it clear he wasn't going to talk his way out of this one.
"Because he's way too ticklish for his own good." Nancy went to prod Steve's side in demonstration, only to have her wrist quickly snatched up.
"Don't." Steve could already feel a grin tugging at his lips.
"Oh, don't give me that. You loved it when I used to tickle you." Nancy chided, nodding to Robin over Steve's shoulder. "So the answer to your question is yes, he does like raspberries."
Damn it, she was so mean! Steve could hear Robin snorting with laughter behind him, no doubt at the look of mortification on his face.
"Does he, now? Well, if he likes them so much, why don't we give him a few?"
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