HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO OR CATCH THIS BLOCK.
This is a tickle blog!
Cautious mix of SFW and NSFW, so minors please DNI!
I'm Kayde, I'm 19, and I'm a trans woman! She/Her
I write fics, sometimes! Keep an eye out!
I absolutely love seeing my friends be giggly/letting go/just getting to see them be the giggly and blushy version of themselves is such a great contrast from their normal selves. Especially if they're normally grumpy and then you tickle them and they literally come undone and become the happier version of themselves 🥹💕 like that's so adorable to me. I love making my friends happy and giggly and ahhh I need to tickle them so badly (obviously I'm speaking about community friends)
Project hail mary (tickle fic: Ler!Ryland Grace, Lee!Reader)
🌌 summary: Affection is really important to you. Over time, you've learned to initiate hugs, and pats on the shoulder. You never thought you'd be able to ask Ryland to tickle you - but desperate times call for desperate measures.
🪐 tags: ryland grace & reader, tickling, fluff, 2.4k words
💫 prompt: "i have this thought but i’m too scared to consider it further on my own - imagine actually working up the courage to go up to ryland and ask him to tickle you. he’d be insufferable and would never let you live it down" -@/Kitkatfingers
🛰️ author's note: Heyyy I have no idea whether this is shit or not but it took me 1.5 weeks and a lot of sitting with my head on the desk so I hope yall enjoy <33
🌌credits: (thank you to @//harringtonsslvt for the post layout inspo! Space dividers by @//strangergraphics)
It was back again.
The wanting.
You had been keeping it controlled so far - after all, there were more important matters at hand. But things had been slow lately on the hail mary, and Ryland had not been helping.
You'd been close, in the way two people condemned to spend the rest of their lives in a metal box would be. You hugged. You bumped shoulders. You slept side by side. And you had stupid playfights.
Your thoughts float back to your most recent scuffle; how Grace had grabbed you by the shoulders, messed up your hair - how you'd tossed half-hearted punches at his shoulder, and he'd acted all offended. How he'd adjusted his grip where you'd slid down. How his hand had accidentally landed under your arm, and it had...well, tickled. You'd yelped, flailed, practically jumping out of Grace's headlock. The reaction had only prompted him to scramble after you, and the wrestling match, as it occasionally did, devolved into a tickle fight.
There seemed to be a mutual understanding that neither of you minded these too much, given how often they happened - humans needed touch, and...it was nice to make each other smile. Even it was incredibly silly.
If Grace had a problem with it, he'd never said - and besides, he never pushed your hands away, despite being more than capable.
...He probably had an inkling you had no issues with it either.
There was a look you shared, sometimes, whenever you successfully provoked him into tickling you - although you didn't always need to provoke him. Sometimes, you'd just look at him pleadingly, and he'd know. And after, you'd wipe tears of laughter from your eyes, and he'd adjust his glasses, and it would be there on his face. A knowing.
It was why you felt comfortable asking without asking, when the wanting arrived - you’d hide Ryland’s things, act extra snarky, squeeze his knee under the table - and if he didn’t tickle you, he still usually gave you some similar form of playful affection. It nearly always worked.
Nearly.
This time, though, was different. Despite your best efforts to drop hints all week, it appeared Grace was too engrossed in his work to pick up on any. You’d prodded his ribs, thrown in plenty of sarcastic jibes - and, though you were loathe to admit it, deliberately stretched for high shelves a few times within tickling distance. All that, and Dr. PhD still hadn’t gotten the message.
So…no, he wasn’t helping at all.
You'd looked into the science of it, once. Hugs released plenty of endorphins. It stood to reason touch-starved individuals might feel drawn to affection that caused laughter, which would release an extra kick of dopamine. It wasn't unfathomable that some people enjoyed being tickled.
So you knew you wanted it. And you could take a reasonable guess at why.
Didn’t make it any less humiliating to think about, though.
And now, after hours trying and failing to shut it out, there's a stubborn, giddy flutter settled between your heart and stomach. Your brain runs circles around the recent lack of touch, helpfully providing you with visions of hugs, playfights, cuddles, tickles, tickles, tickles-
This is bad.
You tap your pen furiously against your notepad, berating yourself for getting distracted again. A simple dilution calculation sits unfinished, abandoned in favour of your oddly specific yearnings.
C₁V₁ = C₂V₂.
The formula stares at you. It's simple: just plug in the values, make the needed solution. You’ve done it a million times by now.
Across the room, Ryland drums his fingers on the bench, his glasses habitually crooked as he contemplates his own data. It's only in your peripheral, but it's enough to scatter any possibility of concentrating. Your eyes linger a nanosecond too long on his hand, and you absolutely, totally do not contemplate his fingers tapping one-by-one like that against your ribs, so it's fine. You're fine.
Fuck.
Perhaps something more visual will help. You nudge the chair back, and grab a sample for the confocal microscope.
It's a more complex setup than the little desktop ones. Takes an eternity to switch the thing on - a million buttons, and loading screens, and safety checks.
You pass the time gazing intently at the desk.
Finally, it's ready. Taking a seat, you slot the sample in, and your hand drifts to the coarse focus dial, the sample shifting up and down with each movement. You will your eyes to stay locked on the viewport.
Your elbows bump against the desk as you hunch over the eyepiece. It's not comfortable, but you're used to it at this point, and it leaves your torso rather open to - nope. stop it.
Too late. The thought of hands, squeezing suddenly at your sides, flashes through your mind. Kneading. Poking. Teasing. A person, no one in particular, crowding closer to trap you against the bench, laughing low near your ear, his glasses bumping your neck-
God.
The fine focus does not make things any clearer.
"I can hear you thinking." A voice nearby. You nearly fall out your chair. Grace is stood over his laptop, hands propped against the table, glasses slid down his nose. Just…watching, apparently.
You steady your breathing. “Uh- what?”
“You’re distracted.” He steps closer.
“No, I’m not.”
“So…you meant to do that?” He points to the sample, which you have elegantly smushed against the microscope lens during your adjustments. Great. You rest your brow against the eyepiece in defeat.
“How many cover slips are we gonna lose to you, hm?” Ryland mutters, guiding you off the chair with a hand on your shoulder.
You nudge him. “Shut up.”
He nudges you back. “Hey, I’m looking out for our equipment, here.”
You reach over, adjusting his glasses for him. “You’re dragging me away from my work.”
He grins. “Work? What work?”
“Rude.” It’s too easy, really, to swipe your fingers over his neck – your hands are already there, and your brain has been screaming affection affection affection for hours now.
Grace, of course, leaps back with a squeak, half a giggle escaping before he regains his composure, hand held to his neck.
Mischief flashes through his features, for a moment. But he doesn’t take the bait.
“Alright, alright, sorry.” He folds his arms. “What’s going on?”
You huff. “Nothing, just…”
“Bored? Tired?” Ryland supplies. Your gaze drifts inexorably to his hands, which trace idle patterns over his own arms.
You are not going to get any work done like this.
“Kinda.”
You stride over, placing your hands on his shoulders, expression dour.
He tilts his head, frowning slightly.
“What, you need a hug?” His arms open wide, and you take the offer, even if it’s not quite what you’re after. It helps.
You spend a moment gathering your thoughts, Ryland giving you a brief but tight squeeze. It gives you the confidence to draw back and face him again.
“All good now?”
Heat crawls up your neck. For the fifth time in as many days, you give him The Look - the one that usually says everything you need it to.
He raises his eyebrows, uncertain.
“Okay, so…not all good, then?”
“Grace.” Your voice nearly cracks. Delirious, you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose - but…no, there’s not a glint of malice in his eyes.
“What, what do you need?” He’s completely oblivious.
“I want-” The rest of the words won’t come out. You give him one last pleading stare, hoping he’ll know the look in your eyes this time.
“What, what is it?”
Shit. You’re going to have to spell it out for him.
“Um- it’s been a while since- uh.” The next few seconds are filled with your various stutters. Grace sits through it all patiently.
Okay, deep breath. You place your hands together, and brute-force the words out.
“I, um. I want you to tickle me.”
Silence.
He leans back against the counter, eyes narrowing in the way they do when he finds something interesting.
And then, slowly…he smiles.
“...So you can ask for it.” His voice carries that familiar teasing lilt.
“You-You knew?”
“You are not subtle.” Grace doesn’t give you time to process the betrayal - just lunges forwards, scooping you into a hug from behind like it's nothing. His hands latch onto your hips, squeezing rapidly, and he laughs at the way you instantly start sinking downwards.
“That was so hard for you, wasn’t it?” He muses, spidering his fingers over your stomach, following you towards the floor. “You were thinking about it for days!”
That fluttering, hopeful thing from earlier does somersaults inside your chest, revelling at the familiar electricity running through your veins. The giddiness and joy at being held this way, despite Grace’s teasing, puts a silly grin on your face. You put your head in your hands, legs flailing wildly as you reach the ground. But Ryland’s not having it - he grabs your wrists, and slots out from behind you, choosing instead to sit over your legs. He pins your hands over your head, leaning closer.
You refuse to meet his gaze - and in your defence, it would be hard to - Grace’s free hand walks two fingers along the inside of your bicep, moving steadily towards your underarm. It’s rather distracting.
“Grahace-”
You risk a glance at him.
Bad idea. That grin is evil.
“You really missed this, didn’t you?” His hand swirls a tiny circle over your tricep, and your giggling stops being anticipatory. You frantically shake your head.
“Yea, you did.” He laughs, a sing-song tone to his voice. His fingers creep lower, slowly tracing around your navel. Your breath hitches in your chest, delicate laughter stuttering out.
“You missed being tickled.”
The heat rising to your cheeks is mortifying - you let out a noise somewhere between a giggle and a whine.
“Aw. Sorry, am I embarrassing you?”
“Yes-!” His hand abruptly claws at your side, and you tip your head back, lost in laughter. “No! Nonono-”
“Yes? No? Which is it?” Grace laughs. It’s a wicked noise. Horrible, even. You vow to yourself that you’ll tickle that laugh out of him once you’re free.
“FUCK you-”
“Tsk. That’s rude.” He stills his fingers, leaning in to look you in the eye. “I won’t tickle you then.”
…If the ship’s hull somehow breached, right now, and you fell through the laboratory floor into the frigid vacuum of space, you would spend your last moments grateful for the feeling of the cold against your raging blush.
Grace is attentively watching your reaction - which consists mostly of hiding your face against your pinned arms, and giggling through residual laughter. There may have been a very embarrassing flustered groan, but you don’t dwell on it.
“...Well?” He hovers a clawed hand over your tummy. “You owe me an apology.”
“Sorry, sorry-” You manage to squeak out, eyes closed tight once you see what he’s doing.
“...And?”
“And what?”
“And, what would you like me to do?” Grace looks at you expectantly.
Oh no.
He’s waiting for you to ask him again.
“Absolutely not.” You open your eyes. His hand is closer.
“...I just think it would help to practice asking, is all.”
“Ryland.”
“Ryland, now, huh? Must be bad.” He wriggles his fingers in the air, just a bit. Just an inch away. You can’t help it - you laugh a little.
“Plehease!”
He considers this - observes the shade of red your ears have turned - and snorts.
“...Alright, fine, be dramatic.”
His hand makes contact with your torso, sliding your shirt out the way as he spiders a pattern across your skin. Then, hand still poking along your side, he leans down, and blows a raspberry.
You forget most of the English language for a moment, back arching in a useless attempt to throw him off, your focus completely consumed by the playful, buzzy feeling under your skin. At one point, you make either a snort or a hiccup, you’re not sure, and Ryland laughs against your belly, which tickles even more. Once he runs out of air, he pulls back, and pays attention to your ribs, his fingers climbing up each one with horrible, ticklish accuracy.
“...Two…” he mutters. You furrow your eyebrows between giggles, confused by the lack of context.
“GRACE-!” You manage to shout, unable to form a sentence through the combination of laughter and utter mortification. Pulling at your arms does nothing.
“Shush, now, you’ll make me lose count.”
His hand shifts to the next rib, one finger positioned above and the other below as he digs lightly into the space between the bones, and keeps counting.
“Three-”
Ok, now you actively wish there was a hull breach.
“Four-” He continues, picking up his pace slightly to observe how your legs kick out more in response. “Only twenty ribs to go, you’re doing great.”
“Screhew you-!” You’re careful to leave the profanities out this time.
Grace smiles. “On second thought, this is going too slow. Fivesixseven-”
His hand crawls rapidly upwards, slightly trailing towards your spine as it does so. At long last, he lets your hands go, so he can have both of his back. The freedom doesn’t do you much good - you feel like a puddle. Your limbs can barely move from the laughter. You hold onto Grace’s wrists loosely - but don’t push them away.
“You gonna let me go?” By now, he’s got both hands jammed under your arms, barely moving. He doesn’t need to move them, really - you keep squirming and laughing yourself into an infinite feedback loop with them stuck there like that.
“Plehease-” You can’t think through the giggles.
“I’m not doing anything! I’m not moving!” Grace is laughing along with you at this point, apparently highly entertained by your predicament. “Oho, you’re adorable.”
By some miracle, you finally manage to lift your arms enough for him to draw back. He doesn’t touch you again - just sits back, watching as you flop your arms over your face and ride out the tsunami of residual giggles he’s caused.
After ten seconds of this, he leans forwards again, poking at your wrist.
“You ok under there? Did I break you?”
If you hadn’t just been tickled to pieces, you probably wouldn’t have grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. But you have, so that’s what you do.
“Hey,” He laughs, stroking your hair. “Happy now?”
And despite the mischief in his tone - despite the stomach-flipping embarrassment you feel - despite the fact he’d known what you wanted the whole time - you nod.
Ryland grins wider. “Good.”
Then, he leans over to catch your eye, his voice a tad smug.
just a doodle this time, i loved the sketch sm i didnt wanna ruin it HELPEME
I FORGOR TO DRAW THEIR SUITS IDC LETS PRETEND THE ATMOSPHERE DOESNT EXIST AND THEY CAN HUG
i promise i will at some point draw something other than lee grace im sorry i have not had a fixation in a million years and my brain is so starved that its actually tweaking
im sincerely sorry for my hyperfixating shenanegains I PROMISE ILL DRAW SOMETHING ELSE SOON HEFOKFJKRN
pairing: ryland grace x reader (intended as platonic)
summary: you show rocky the human concept of a prank, on ryland. turns out he doesn't appreciate being the butt of the joke.
warnings: no use of y/n, gn reader, lee!reader, ler!ryland, conspiracy theories, pranks and ragebaiting, scary ler grace like i got a bit nervous writing this, light swearing
word count: 1.9k
authors notes: bc i think ragebaiting grace would be ssoooo funny. title: bodybag by wind walkers
///
It was interesting how humans could be bored in any circumstance.
It's not like there wasn't plenty to do on the Hail Mary. Research was constant and - astrophage and taumoeba aside - even just hanging out with Rocky was enough to keep things interesting. First alien contact, and all.
And yet, you were bored. Not just kind-of-bored where you could maybe occupy your mind with something or other, but the painful bone-deep kind of boredom where - no matter how much you wanted to - you could not get yourself to even move.
Briefly, you thought of the full access database of…well, everything, that you and Ryland were given with your laptops. But even a Wikipedia deep dive didn't sound engaging.
Rocky rolled over to where you were sprawled on the floor, feet propped up against the bed.
"Why not working, question?" He asked, no preamble. You heaved a sigh.
"Don't want to." You said blankly.
"Something wrong, question?"
"No." You said. "I'm just bored."
"What 🎶 mean, question?"
It hadn't occured to you that Rocky didn't know the word 'bored'. You thought for a moment.
"It's a feeling you get," you explained, staring up at the ceiling. "When you really want to do something, but nothing seems interesting enough to do it."
Rocky was silent for an extended few seconds.
"That sound stupid." He said.
You turned your head against the floor to look at him. "Do Eridians not get bored?"
"No." He managed to sound judgemental, somehow. "Everything interesting, always. Many things to do and learn, always."
"Huh." You mused, turning your head back towards the ceiling. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"How stop 🎶 feeling, question?" Rocky asked. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking.
"I guess the best way is to force yourself to do something." You admitted, knowing Rocky would find this whole concept ridiculous. "It's easier when you can do it with someone else."
An idea sparked in your mind.
"Hey, Rocky." You said, lifting yourself up onto one elbow, turning to him. "Do you know what a 'prank' is?"
"No."
"How about 'joke'?"
He perked up. "Yes, Rocky know joke. Grace say joke is to make others laugh."
"Yes!" You said, smiling. "So a prank is similar. It's when someone tricks another person to make a joke. But it has to be harmless. If it hurts the other person then it's just mean."
"Trick not lie, question?"
"Sort of." You agreed. "But it's about something small. And the other person finds out about it in the end, so they can laugh about it too."
"Understand."
You grinned. "Want me to show you how a prank works?"
"Yes, yes, yes! Show Rocky human prank!" He wiggled happily.
"Okay, but you have to promise to not say anything about this to Grace." You told him firmly. "If he knows we're doing it, it won't work."
"Yes, yes, yes, promise, promise, promise!"
You pressed your fist against his dome. Rocky mirrored you.
@
You glanced to your right from your perch on the stool. Ryland was busy scribbling on the whiteboard he had moved into the lab room.
You looked down. Rocky was a few paces away from Ryland, soldering something or other.
It was a good time to strike. A few hours had passed since the three of you settled into your work, and the silence had stretched and streched until it became taught with stress and tiredness. But for some reason your heart rate picked up.
You fiddled with your laptop for a moment, trying to gather your will.
Ryland huffed sharply, and wiped half of the board clean. You watched as he restarted his calculations.
Well, no time like the present.
"So you know how the earth is flat?" You asked, trying to keep your voice light and casual. The marker stopped squeaking against the board.
"Excuse me?" Ryland frowned, looking over his shoulder at you.
You kept your eyes glued to the laptop. No going back now.
"I was just thinking." You continued, clicking to another tab. "Do the windmills act as propellers?"
"What are you talking about?" Ryland sounded like he didn't know if he should be concerned or confused. He set the marker down with a click, turning to face you fully.
"You know!" You waved your hand vaguely. "They're propellers so they're bringing us closer to the sun? I figure that's where global warming comes from."
There was a long pause.
You fought not to look at him. If you did you'd start laughing and give the whole plan away.
"The earth isn't-" Ryland started, then cut himself off. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah?" You feigned confusion, risking a quick glance at him. He looked comical - eyes huge, brows pinched together, hands hanging limply by his sides. "Anyway, what do you think? It's a good theory."
"That is not a good theory." Ryland said, incredulous. "It's not even a theory - it's madness!"
"Why?" You clicked through more tabs, then lifted your hands to make quotation marks gestures with your fingers. "Because 'the earth isn't flat'?"
"The earth isn't flat!" He sounded distressed. "It's round! It's an orb!"
"Oh yeah? And how do you know?"
"We're literally in space!"
"Sure." You allowed. "But I didn't get to see earth. So, who's to say?"
Ryland narrowed his eyes and looked down at your feet where you were bouncing your heel nervously against the leg of the stool.
"How Grace know earth round, question?" Rocky piped up from his spot.
"Huh?"
"Grace say always test yourself. If Grace not test, how Grace know earth round, question?"
Thank god for Rocky, you thought in relief.
"Alright." Ryland placed his hands on his hips. "What's going on with you two?"
Before you could reply, Rocky spoke. "Nothing, lie."
You closed your eyes in silent anguish. It hadn't even occurred to you that Rocky wouldn't be able to lie out loud because of his syntax.
"Oh, 'nothing', huh?" Ryland demanded, looking back and forth between you and the Eridian. "'Lie', huh?"
"Grace, listen-" You started, turning on your stool to face him. Seeing his expression - shocked, offended, miffed - a snort burst out of you. You pulled your lips into your teeth to stop yourself from grinning.
"So the two of you just thought it would be funny to spew lies and conspiracy theories?" Ryland continued, aiming the question at both you and Rocky although his eyes were locked on you.
"Rocky was curious about how pranks work." You shrugged, still fighting back a smile.
"Oh yeah? And who told him about them, I wonder."
You rolled your eyes. "God, you sound like such a teacher right now."
"We're supposed to teach him correct concepts." Ryland said. "Not about underground lizard people."
"I never said anything about lizard people!" You objected. "Come on, Grace, we just wanted a laugh."
He looked at you silently for a moment.
"Okay." He said, folding his arms. "C'mere then."
You faltered. "I feel like I shouldn't."
Ryland didn't speak. Only waved his fingers in a beckoning motion and pointed at the floor in front of him.
Shit, you thought concisely.
Slowly, reluctantly, you slid off your stool and walked towards him.
"Hmm." Ryland hummed, scanning you up and down.
"What?" You demanded, flapping your arms out.
"If you wanted to have a laugh," he said, voice lilting. "There's a much faster way to get it."
Your heart skipped. Double shit. "Grace. That wasn't my inten-"
"Your intention?" He raised his eyebrows teasingly. "As if you don't know how to get exactly what you want out of me."
"I'm not having this conversation." You said with finality. "I'm leaving now."
Ryland's arm wrapped securely around your middle, pulling you backwards into his chest, as soon as you turned to walk away.
"What isn't fair?" Ryland asked calmly, squeezing at your waist. His other hand came up to scribble on the back of your neck, where you had dropped your head forward to hide your reaction from him.
"What about Rohocky?!" You hated how your voice pitched up into a whine.
"Rocky is innocent." Ryland said. "He was coerced into this scheme by your evil little mind."
"Yohou're the evil one!" You kicked your leg out, hoping to create enough momentum to break free.
"How so?" He asked, pulling you back to him as if it were an afterthought. His hand veered to scratch around your ear.
"You know how!" You accused, reaching up to pull Ryland's hand away from your ear by the wrist.
"The same way I know that earth is round?" Ryland teased, letting you pull his hand away. "Who's to say?"
With that, he pulled against your grip on his wrist, and took hold of your jaw.
"Grace, I swear to god, I will-" You intensified your pulling and kicking.
"You're not gonna do anything." He said easily, and blew a raspberry on your neck.
You laughed desperately, legs nearly giving out under you. Ryland broke off from the raspberry, cutting it short by his own chuckling at your reaction.
"Oh man." He said through his laugh. "That was adorable."
"No it wasn't." You gritted out, jerking your head out of Ryland's grip. He let you, instead using that arm to wrap it around your middle along with the other.
"No?" He pressed his cheek to your hair. "You're right, it wasn't just adorable. It was also very cute."
You growled, feeling your face flush. You angled your head further away from him to hide it.
"You're sweet, and silly." Ryland continued, squeezing both hands against your waist gently. Just enough to get you giggling. "And you had to come up with this elaborate plan when you could have just come and asked me to tickle you."
Through the haze, you thought: I'm going to die here.
"That wasn't the plan." Your objected, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.
Ryland hummed in faux sympathy. It made your stomach do a flip.
"Let me goho." You whined. You actually whined. The realisation made you flush hotter.
"Awh." Ryland clicked his teeth. "Hard to get away when you're giggling so hard, huh?"
"Whahat do you want from me?" You were not above begging at this point.
"There is one thing." He mused, shifting one hand higher to your ribs. "But I'm not sure if you'll be able to do it."
"I'll doho it!"
"Will you behave?"
"Yehes!" You nodded your head. Pretended not to hear his wheezy laugh at how quickly you complied.
"Will you stop telling Rocky conspiracy theories?"
"Thahat's more than one thihing!"
Ryland increased the speed of his hands. "Will you?"
"Yesyesyes!" You yelped, pulling at his arms.
"Alright." He chuckled lightly, stopping his ticklish attack on you, but held firm as you tried to catch your breath. "Good."
You let your head drop back against Ryland's shoulder, your chest heaving. He rubbed his cheek on the side of your head softly, letting you get your bearings.
"Rocky have question, statement."
You jolted, shocked by his voice. You had forgotten he was even there.
"Yeah, bud?" Ryland asked, maneouvering both your bodies slightly so he could look at him.
"What mean lizard people, question?"
"Oh noooo…" You groaned, flopping your head forward.
"This is your doing, squirmy." Ryland informed you.
"I plead the fifth."
"I guess I did make you promise not to tell him about conspiracy theories." He mused, releasing his hold on you, but keeping both palms pressed to your shoulders. "I'll handle this one."
"I'm just gonna -" You made the mistake of looking at Ryland's face. His expression told you he knew exactly what you were going to say. "- I'll be back."
With that, you fled from the lab room, Ryland's wheezy chuckling following you like a ghost.
okay okay settle down folks ive got something for you- its for AC: Odyssey, and i wrote it for myself mostly- i thought it was a super cute concept- for everyone who hasn't played the Fate of Atlantis expansion, the context for this fic is here!! (also if its a little confusing how things work in the video vs the fic, its because the player in the video made different choices than i did) its short but lemme know what you think!!
i really like AC: Odyssey and Kassandra is- gdgrdghtrdgssdgh
Divine Punishment
Words: 1,578
Pairing: Ler!Persephone, Ler!Hekate, Lee!Kassandra
Warnings: Mentions of violence
The air in Elysium was thick with the scent of blossoms and smoke. The fields of asphodel, once a soothing sea of white and gold, were ablaze, her prized kolossi in ruins, and an army of impudent mortals at her gates, led by the Spartan king, the grandfather of the Keeper who had ruined it all. Kassandra had ruined everything: her paradise, her plans, her relationship with Hekate, she had even turned Hermes, her most loyal follower, against her. And now, after all that, Adonis had the audacity to make a request as he was freed.
“Go easy on Kassandra,” he called over his shoulder, his voice fading as he left the palace.
Persephone’s fingers twitched. Yeah, right.
As if she would ever “go easy” on the mortal who had upended her world. As if the mortal deserved anything less than the full weight of her wrath. Her dark mind bubbled with ideas that would make what Zeus did to Prometheus look downright merciful.
And then there was Hekate, standing off to the side in shadow with her arms crossed, her usual sharp tongue now painfully unfiltered thanks to Persephone’s curse. The Isu goddess of magic had spent the last few minutes glaring at Kassandra with an intensity that rivaled Hades’.
“Now, your turn,” Persephone hummed, turning to face the Keeper.
Kassandra stood tall, returning Persephone’s gaze. “What, are you going to throw me off a mountain like you did to Hermes? He loved you, Persephone, and look how you repaid him.”
“You think so little of us that a god could die so easily?” Persephone said, her voice dripping with disdain as she glanced toward the door of her palace. Just outside those doors was the bridge off of which she had thrown Hermes just minutes prior. “You insult me. He’s at the base of the mountain with nothing more than a broken leg and wounded pride, I’d wager.”
Kassandra, ever the defiant mortal, didn’t flinch. She stood there, chin lifted, as if she expected to be thrown into the Underworld at any moment. And she would be. Oh, yes, she would be. But not just yet.
Now purple-eyed, Hekate, unable to contain herself, blurted out, “Can we punish the mortal together? Like old times?”
Persephone’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. Oh, how perfect was this! A chance to reunite with Hekate, to remind Kassandra, and herself, of the power they wielded when they worked in tandem. And, if she was being honest, a chance to indulge in a little fun before the inevitable banishment. The last few weeks had been rough, and now she had a chance to relax by tormenting the one who had made it so.
“Hekate,” Persephone purred, turning to face the other goddess. “You always have such lovely ideas.”
Kassandra’s eyes narrowed. “What-”
She didn’t get to finish. Persephone flicked her wrist, and the mortal’s armor peeled away, as if unseen hands had stripped it from her body. The breastplate, bracers, greaves, all of it clattered to the ground, leaving Kassandra in nothing but her tunic and trousers, her skin suddenly exposed to the cool Elysian air. She gasped, instinctively crossing her arms over her body, but it was too late. Persephone’s magic had already lifted her off the ground, suspending her helplessly in midair.
“What is this! Put me down!” Kassandra snapped, kicking her legs fiestily, wishing she had her spear and a fair fight. But the magic held her fast.
Persephone circled her, eyeing the mortal with the hunger of a predator. “Oh, Kassandra,” she sighed, “did you truly think that you could disrupt my paradise, turn my allies against me, and just walk away unscathed?”
Hekate stepped forward from her place in the shadows, her fingers already twitching with anticipation. “She did think that,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Just look at her. Still acting like she has any power here.”
Kassandra’s glare could have melted iron, but it did nothing to deter the Isu goddesses. Persephone reached down, trailing a single finger along the sole of Kassandra’s bare foot. The mortal jerked, a sharp inhale escaping her lips.
“So soft… How in the world do you manage to keep your feet so soft, what with you running around all the time, making my life difficult?” She accentuated her words with a sly scribble up the arch. “Ticklish, are we~?” Persephone murmured, delighted.
Hekate didn’t wait for an answer. She lunged forward, her nimble lockpicking-fingers wriggling along Kassandra’s ribs. The Keeper let out a yelp, her body twisting as she tried to escape, but Perseophone’s magic kept her suspended, immovable.
“M-maAHahLahAkA!” she cursed through her very un-misthios-like giggles. “St-sStoHohp at OHooHnce!!”
“Oh, skies above,” Hekate laughed, her voice bright with glee. “Her laugh is adorable!” She blinked a few times as she realized again that she had been forced by the curse to say that out loud. That would take getting used to. But as she saw Kassandra’s face heat up with embarrassment, Hekate realized that her laughter went up in pitch. Teasing, it seemed, was effective.
Persephone, still scribbling and poking away at Kassandra’s soles, glanced up to see what had caught Hekate’s attention. “Oh, her blush! Like a poppy! I remember you blushed like that when I kissed your cheek, little mortal, after you got Hades’ lost horse.”
“WeEHheEHLL, IhIhII DihIhiHIdn’t!!” Kassandra spat. Now that she was in the hot seat, there was little point in lying. “IhihIHi GaHhaHAve the HoHohorse to AdOhoHoNis, yoUhuhU FuhuHUcker!!”
Persephone tsked and dug her fingers under Kassandra’s toes, making the poor mortal throw her head back and squeal.
“Such cute noises you’re making, mortal!” Hekate fawned, not sure if the tease was necessarily forced from her by the curse or not.
Persephone chuckled, standing to press a very ticklish kiss to the side of Kassandra’s neck. The mortal squirmed, her laughter bubbling out of her despite all her best efforts to suppress it. She hadn’t laughed this hard since… well, ever, now that she thought of it. Kassandra thrashed in her magic bonds, cackling and shouting out every last curse she knew. “Focus, Hekate,” Persephone teased. “We’re meant to be punishing her. We don’t need another pet.”
“Like you’re not enjoying this,” Hekate shot back, her fingers drilling into Kassandra’s armpits. The mortal shrieked, her legs kicking wildly as she dissolved into helpless giggles.
Kassandra tried to speak, to threaten or bargain, but her words were lost in the storm of laughter. “S-StoHoHoHoHOP IhIhihihIt, PLehEhEHEHeasee!!” she managed, her voice breathless.
Persephone only smirked. “Oh, but we’re just getting started!”
Hekate, unable to resist, leaned in closer, her fingers now kneading Kassandra’s strong thighs. “Remember when we did this to that arrogant Titaness?” she asked, grinning up at Persephone. “What was her name again? Sellie?”
“Selene.”
“She cried like a child.”
Persephone’s laughter was rich and warm. “And you still let her go. You’re too soft, Hekate.”
Hekate scoffed. “Only because you told me to stop!”
Kassandra’s mind raced. They’d done this before. Many times. The realization only made it worse. She wasn’t just a victim, she was a plaything, and these two goddesses were reminiscing as they tormented her!
Persephone pressed another kiss to Kassandra’s collarbone, then another to her side, her lips light as a feather but infinitely more maddening. “You should have considered this before you ruined my paradise, mortal,” she murmured against Kassandra’s skin.
Hekate, meanwhile, had moved to Kassandra’s other side, her fingers working in tandem with Persephone’s magic. “I’ve missed this,” she admitted, her voice softer now, almost wistful. “Missed you.”
Persephone’s expression softened for a moment, her movements faltering just slightly. But then she shook her head, as if clearing the thought, and redoubled her efforts. “Alright, enough playtime,” she said, though there was no real finality in her voice. “Time for the real punishment.”
Hekate pouted. “Already? But she’s not even hysterical!”
Persephone smirked. “My husband is the god of the dead. I can have her brought back up here to us whenever we want. There’s plenty of time in eternity for round two… three, and four.”
Kassandra’s laughter died down, but her body still trembled with the aftershocks, her skin oversensitive from the onslaught. She glared at them both, her pride in tatters but her defiance still burning. “Youhuhu… Youhuhu twohoho… ahahare insuhuhufferable…”
Hekate grinned, pinching Kassandra’s cheek. “You will suffer us regardless.”
Persephone gave Kassandra one last, lingering look, her magic already coiling around the mortal, preparing to hurl her into the depths of the Underworld. “Next time, think before you ruin a goddess’ paradise,” she said, her voice sweet as poisoned honey.
And then, with a flick of her wrist, Kassandra was gone, tumbling into the darkness below. She whistled, and Ros jumped down into the pit after her. Let her play with the dog for a bit.
The last thing Kassandra heard was Hekate’s laughter. “Safe travels, Keeper!”
Persephone turned to Hekate, her expression unreadable. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. Then, suddenly, Persephone reached out and hugged the other Isu tightly.
“Like old times,” she murmured.
Hekate leaned into her embrace, her usual sharpness softened by the curse, and perhaps, by something deeper. “Like old times,” she agreed.
And as the golden light of Elysium bathed the palace in a warm glow, the two goddesses stood together, content with their piece of paradise, for now.
when they realize you're about to tickle them, and they get that great big anxious smile on their face, and their eyes widen in fear, and the giggly "no"s start bubbling out 😍
there is a certain blog run by a minor interacting with a lot of my posts
i want to figuratively hit them on the head with a big cartoon mallet because not only is my blog mdni, but also the blogs that im reblogging from are mdni
i dont wanna go into this person's DMs to tell them off because im conflict-averse so i guess im resorting to vagueposting
please, whoever is reading this, be sure to check the OP's DNI before interacting? it takes like ten seconds and it can help avoid making them uncomfortable and making you feel embarrassed in hindsight
being a maid for a wealthy millionaire couple who are both so sweet and physically affectionate. whenever i do an especially great job at cleaning and doing my chores, i get rewarded with tickles <3
i’ll be sandwiched between the two of them while having both sides of my ribcage poked and scribbled. maybe even having some sweet praises thrown my way for some positive reinforcement.
and of course, that includes wearing a frilly little maid costume on top of it all 🧹🪶🧺
