Fandom: Project Hail Mary
Characters: Ryland Grace, Rocky
Summary: Rocky catches Ryland tickling himself in bed and has many questions, much to Ryland's embarrassment.
A/N: I've not seen the movie, but have read the book, in case certain things seem different :) I love Rocky with my whole heart, I need you guys to send me ALL the tickle fic recs you have
Words: 2k
[Read it on ao3]
You never thought of these moments when planning a life-saving, suicide mission. Sure, you calculated all the ways things could go wrong, all the variables in order to survive. But you never thought of the quiet moments in advance, such as laying in your bed in the middle of space, very very far away from home. Ryland’s body was exhausted, but his mind kept racing. He tried not to think too much of what he was doing when trying to sleep, lest he wanted to trigger some sort of internal panic he’d managed to suppress thus far. Thinking of it, he didn’t give himself enough credit for how little he’d freaked out about all this. Yes, it was more panic than he’d ever experienced in his life, but if you really counted the amount of risk he was putting himself in up here - well, he was doing a pretty good job if he said so himself!
He exhaled slowly and rolled over onto his back. He needed a distraction. What did he usually do back on Earth? Scroll his phone, watch a show, read a book? They didn’t sound as appealing up here. What if a throwaway line made him remember something unpleasant? What if he had a panic attack? Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to work. He should’ve probably started working on his coping mechanisms by this point, but you can’t blame a guy for diving headfirst into work in order to avoid doing just that in these circumstances.
Ryland placed a hand on his stomach. Maybe…
He didn’t do this often back home. He found it silly that he felt the need to do it at all, and back home he wasn’t as lonely and touch starved, though he was definitely lonely and touch starved, but being in space had opened up a whole new level to the loneliness and touch starvation. So yeah, maybe he shouldn’t feel ashamed of it. Maybe that was just what he needed.
He shut his eyes and curled his fingers over his skin, once, twice. His stomach, which had always been his most sensitive spot, jolted beneath the touch. If he really put his mind to it, he could almost imagine it was someone else who was doing this to him. Who that could be was none of his business, really. He’d never been stupid enough to mix his fantasies with reality. But whoever that would be, it would be someone gentle and playful, strong enough to keep him put under their body, because that was what Ryland imagined the situation would be like. Him on his back, probably on a bed, with his hands uselessly trying to fight the tickles off-
“You doing what, question?”
Ryland snapped his hand back. “Nothing!”
Rocky didn’t need light to see him. He’d simply picked up on Ryland’s hand moving. “You no sleep.”
“I’m trying to.”
“You move long time. No calm. No sleep.”
“It’s, it’s-” He cleared his throat. “It’s a soothing motion for humans.” Well, kind of. Some humans.
It wasn’t like he’d forgotten that Rocky was there. Subconsciously he knew that the Eridian was watching him sleep, as was his custom, but the human brain worked in funny ways anyway. The thing was: Ryland wasn’t about to explain to an alien that he sometimes fantasized about being tickled of all things and would do it to himself out of desperation. Hell, he wouldn’t even explain that to a human!
But when he thought about it, Rocky wouldn’t know why that would be embarrassing. He wouldn’t know that it wasn’t a common fantasy to have.
“Soothing how, question?” He’d stopped tinkering with whatever he’d been fixing and had directed all his attention toward Ryland.
“It, uh.” He waved his hand around. “It feels good against the skin I guess. To some.” Okay, apparently he wasn’t one to fully lie to an alien. Sue him. “Human skin has all these nerve endings. Some things feel good and others don’t. Some things hurt. What I was doing felt good to me.”
“Is called what, question?”
“Uh. It’s called tickling.” They had no shared word for that, but they had one for touching. “Like very light tough.” He ran a fingertip over his own ribs. “It can feel good.”
“But some not like, question?”
“No. The, uh- some people are too sensitive to certain types of touching. When someone touches you very lightly over a sensitive spot, we usually call that tickling. It tickles because you’re ticklish. Sometimes you tickle someone accidentally, but more often you do it on purpose.”
“Why do if not enjoyable, question?”
“It’s weird. It has all this evolutionary history. Humans developed sensitive skin in order to feel if things such as bugs and other unwanted creatures crawl on us, especially since we don’t have as much hair as other animals. Then somewhere along the line it became a bonding activity.” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “It makes you laugh.”
“Laugh.”
“Yes, if you’re ticklish, you laugh.”
“You not laugh.”
“You can’t really tickle yourself. Well, not fully. I mean, I can feel this-” He gave the side of his belly a quick scribble. “-and I can feel that I’m ticklish because it’s sensitive, but I’m not feeling any panic which means there’s no reason for me to laugh, really. No one is forcing it upon me.”
Rocky was doing the Eridian equivalent of tilting his head like a dog trying to understand. “If panic how fun, question?”
“It’s just.” He shrugged. “It’s just silly, I guess. Fun in the right circumstances, with the right people. Some people abuse it and tickle others until they beg for it to stop. But a lot of times it’s just a fun and quick little moment between friends or family or lovers or whatever.”
“And you like, question?”
He felt his face heat up. “Uh, yeah, it can be fun.”
“You do to yourself because you miss.” That one wasn’t a question.
“I guess.”
“Person do it to you home, question?”
“No. Not in a very long time.”
“Want to help.”
Ryland let out a laugh. “Thanks, Rocky, but I’m fine.”
“Not fine. Sad.” He tapped one of his hands against the floor. “Lonely, question?”
“Not at all,” he assured him. “I have you! But a big part of human relationships is being able to touch. I guess I miss that.”
“We no touch. Sad.”
“Yes, very sad.”
“I make you laugh if could.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You embarrassed, question?”
He huffed. He’d forgotten he’d taught Rocky of human embarrassment. “A little,” he admitted.
“Why, question?”
He rolled over to his side, partly to hide his face in the pillow. Not that it really mattered. “It’s just a bit… vulnerable. To talk about this. Being caught doing it. Not many people like being tickled enough that they do… that.”
“You special.”
“Hah. Oh yes, very special.”
“You keep doing. Rocky watch.”
“There’s no way I’m doing that.”
He made a sound of irritation. “Rocky observe.”
“There’s really nothing to observe if I’m alone.”
“No. Rocky observe Grace happy.”
Oh.
Well, that was kind of sweet actually.
Ryland rolled onto his back again. “Uh. Okay. But, uh. Don’t judge me, okay?”
“Why judge, question?”
“Nevermind.”
He started tentatively, all the while aware of Rocky’s attention on him. He ran his nails over his stomach, along the sides and up toward his ribs. Just as he was almost getting into it, had almost forgotten he was being observed, Rocky broke the silence.
“Grace sensitive on upper body only, question?”
“What? No, no- hey, don’t ask questions during this! I thought you said this wasn’t an observation.”
“Apologies. Curious.”
Ryland certainly couldn’t blame him for it. “Okay, so, humans can be ticklish pretty much everywhere, with varying levels. But the most common spots are the ones that are vulnerable to, like, attacks. Such as neck, armpits, stomach.” He pointed to each spot just to make sure that Rocky understood which ones he meant. “And feet have so many nerve endings that most people are really ticklish there.”
“Grace where, question?”
“Where I’m ticklish? Oh boy.” He laughed at the absurdity of the situation. That he was the only person ever to give away his tickle spots without risking the threat of that being exploited. “Like, everywhere. It’s ridiculous.”
Rocky made a sound of interest. “Explain.”
“Okay, so my stomach’s my worst spot. Do you see how the skin kind of jumps away when I touch it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s because it’s so sensitive even to my own touch. Crazy, right?”
“Endearing.”
“It- wait, I’m not endearing!”
“Continue.”
Ryland shook his head, blushing again. Rocky probably didn’t even understand his timidness about this, and yet he managed to tease him, that bastard. “Okay, so ribs, side, armpits are all bad. My neck’s probably my second worst spot. Wearing a turtleneck is torture, so I don’t. That’s a shirt with a really high neckline, comes up to about here.” He pointed to his throat. “I feel ticklish just thinking about it.” He shuddered. “That’s another thing. Just because I kind of enjoy it, doesn’t mean I want to feel it all the time. Only in certain situations.”
“Understood.”
“So yeah, my whole upper body’s bad, including my lower back. But so are my legs. Thighs, knees, back of them.”
“Feet, question?”
“Oh, very bad, yes.” He nodded, as if this was a normal conversation to have. “Especially the arches.”
“Show, question?”
“Oh, uh-” He sat up and pulled one of his feet out from under the covers. He pointed to the arch. “Here.”
“You touch.”
“My foot? Yeah, sure, okay.” He ran a finger over it. It tickled so much from just that, that he couldn’t add another one. “Many nerve endings here.”
“Amaze.”
“It kind of is, isn’t it?” He ran his finger over his sole a couple more times, since he’d gone through the effort of sitting up and all. “Many probably wish we were less ticklish, but- I don’t know. I kind of like that we have these natural weaknesses. Oh, maybe I didn’t explain that to you. When you’re tickled you usually go into fight or flight mode, so you’re laughing and squirming and usually can’t help it. That’s why many are embarrassed about it.”
“Understand. You lie down.”
Ryland did as he was told. “So demanding. What spot do you want me to try now?” He mostly said it as a joke, but Rocky seemed to ponder over it for a second.
“You do knee, question?”
“Sure, I can do that. I can even show you different techniques!” It was so stupid to get excited about something like this, but come on, he’d been stuck in space for over four years at this point. “You can spider your fingers over the kneecap like this, or you can squeeze-”
“Back of knee, question?”
“Right. The back of the knee is usually really sensitive because it’s a vulnerable, soft spot. You only really have to lightly touch it to get a reaction- ah.” He grinned involuntarily as he tried to make himself tickle the spot. It really was super ticklish even if he did it to himself. The idea of someone pinning his leg down fully…
“Grace dream, question?”
“Huh? Oh, I guess I zoned out,” he said sheepishly.
“Is good. Grace sleepy.”
“I guess I’m a little tired- Wait, have you been tricking me into tickling myself to sleep?!”
“Humans easy to trick.” If Eridians laughed, Ryland was certain that was what Rocky was doing. “Calm now. Happy.”
Ryland ran a hand over his neck. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Continue if need. Rocky watch, no talk.”
He crossed his arms. “No, I think I’m done.”
“Grace grumpy.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Keep touching. Happy again. Then sleep.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“Embarrassed. No need.”
Ryland exhaled through his nose as Rocky picked up whatever he’d been doing before this strange situation had started. Well, he wasn’t fully ready to sleep yet. He still hadn’t tried his neck or armpits, after all…
you know what’s funny? i forgot to tell you— wait why are you walking over here what are you doiHING—? whatareyoudohohoing! [gasp] AH! Ahehehe wh—ehehe! plehehehease that tihihickles wahahait wahahait [uselessly paws at your hands, shrieks, grins] AH nohohoho wahahait! plehehehe—! ah…! ahehehe! … hehe … [frown] why’d you stohop
so I have an undercut and it needed to be shaved down a bit so I had my partner do it and WhY DO thE clippers tickle 😭 it didn't when they did it at the barber wtf
anyway im sitting there trying not to move and my arms and legs are breaking out in goosebumps and im like "hey can you use more pressure?" and that helps for a bit but then he moves on the edge of my neck hairline on the back of my neck and I CANT STOP GIGGLING AND TWITCHING TF so he holds my head to the side and finishes and is like "you're a terrible patient" 💀💀 meanwhile my neck feels all tingly and I'm covered in goosebumps 😭
Is this a thing ppl with short hair and ticklish necks have to deal with wtf 😭😭😭
Thank you to the sweet anon who sent me this fun idea !! I had a great time writing a whole bunch of rough and playful tickles for this fic.
Word Count: ~7800 words of Loki fluff (ft. Thor)
Pairing: Loki x gender neutral reader (platonic), Thor x reader (platonic)
Prompt: What do you think of a fic where after Loki somehow works out that the reader likes t-words-(probably from people watching, as usual)-he catches her having a really bad day and just bluntly asks if it would make her feel better for him to t-word her? Like asking someone if they want/need a hug? Only after he's talked her into it would the loving but also deadly teasing start.
CWs: violence, brief mentions of killing/death, anxious reader, insecure reader, swearing, wounds/brief mentions of medical procedure (stitches)
“Are you okay?”
You’d flinched when Loki had leaned in to ask you the question, telling him he was a little closer than you’d anticipated anyone to be right now. He recoiled, only as much to give you the space you looked to need. You nodded to him, but he watched that ripple of tension in your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. He watched as it pulsed through you with every step up the ramp of the quinjet.
It hadn’t been enough of an ambush to overpower the team, but enough to make you all put up a reasonable fight. They’d really come out of no where, their guerrilla tactics impressive and terrifying and expertly executed. If it hadn’t been the Avengers, whichever unfortunately group had stumbled upon them would’ve been dead before they knew what was happening.
You’d grappled with one of them for several minutes, holding your own very well against the deadly fighter after you’d taken out one before him. It got to the point where you were so evenly matched that Loki had finished off the last of the men fighting him, and then turned to assist you. Just as the fighter was making a jab you were sure to have dodged, Loki struck down with both blades and ended his life. You’d stood, chest heaving, before nodding up to Loki with a shell-shocked thanks.
Now back on the jet, you were unloading your weapons at the work bench as others filtered on, and you look up warily whenever something moved into your line of sight. You winced and Loki saw you try to lower your shoulders, to loosen your jaw, but you just took a tense breath in and shook yourself out of your own head, falling into the routine of cleaning your blades and stowing them above a seat.
It wasn’t until you’d strapped yourself into a jump-seat next to Loki for take-off that you winced for a different reason.
“Ah, shit,” you whispered, quickly unbuckling the straps once again.
He shot his glance to you. “What?”
You sighed as you pressed a hand to your side over your black tactical clothing, and Loki saw a dark crimson begin to peak through the gaps of your fingers. “I’ve been stabbed.”
Standing up, you looked more annoyed than anything else, and Loki couldn’t fight his wry smile as you grumbled your way to the medical bay and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, Strange opened it and Loki saw you remove your hand and look up at him. A few more seconds after that, you were inside and the door was shut.
Several minutes after take-off, after everyone unbuckled and was going about their business, the door to the private med bay slid open once again. An exasperated Dr Strange shot his head into the main room with a bit of a huff. “I need some help in here,” he called, scanning the room before his eyes landed on the two people not doing much of anything. “You’ll do,” he clicked his tongue at Thor and Loki, nodding them into the room.
“What’s the matter, Strange?” Thor enquired as he stepped over the threshold. Loki listened on as he too stepped inside, hitting the button to close the door. You gave your own annoyed sigh from where you lay on the exam table, partially propped up by your elbows, shirt bunched up just above your lower ribs to reveal a sizeable gash on the left side of your stomach, an inch or two above the waistband of your pants.
“Nothing’s the matter,” you grizzled, although Loki saw a glint of amusement in your eye. “He’s being a drama queen.”
“Says the person who can’t sit still for eight stitches,” he shot back with an unimpressed look, elbows bent with his gloved hands held away from touching anything. Looking back to the brothers, he tilted his head towards where you lay. “I’m having some compliance issues.”
“Aren’t doctors tested on their bedside manner before taking the Hippocratic Oath?” A small stream of blood began seeping out of your wound and Strange gave a groan of frustration. You continued with your stroppy tirade, “Calling in two demigods to physically restrain a patient, I mean-”
“My patient is unwilling to sit still,” he countered, picking up a medical wipe to clean the wound again.
“Willing and able are two different things. A neurosurgeon should know that.”
“And an Avenger should be able to control their reactions.”
“It’s called instinct!”
“As enjoyable as this little show is,” Loki interjected with a hand held up, “What exactly is it that you require our assistance for?”
“Rendering your teammate immobile so I can administer stitches,” Strange smiled tensely, rounding the table to wipe away the blood.
“If pain is the issue, surely there’s-”
Thor’s question was cut off by your loud giggle and the slapping of your hand against the doctor’s as he wiped at the blood on your lower stomach.
“Ah.”
“I see.”
The brothers responded and chuckled, taking steps closer to assist on the mission.
“Wait, no!” You shifted and giggled nervously as Thor placed himself by your upper legs and Loki near your head, both of them on the other side of the table to Strange.
“The local anaesthetic has taken away the pain, but we’re left with all the other sensitivities which already existed,” Strange explained, nodding to the brothers. Thor immediately laid his upper body across your thighs, making you squirm and grimace at first, but ultimately resign yourself to it. With a defeated groan, you lowered yourself down onto your back.
“Why not use magic? I could heal this quickly.” Loki crossed his arms, looking at the wound. “A short incantation and this is all good as new. No need for brute force,” he side-eyed his brother.
Strange scoffed, hooking his foot around the trolley of supplies and pulling it closer. “I’m the best surgeon in the world.”
“This isn’t the only world-”
“Yeah, I like Loki’s idea-”
“We’re doing this my way,” Strange said firmly, then gestured down to you as he took the needle in his hand. “If you’d be so kind.”
The dark-haired Asgardian sucked his teeth before calming his demeanour as to not hurt you when he complied. It left a sour taste in his mouth, getting ordered around by this mortal who fancied himself a sorcerer, but fighting with him about it would only make life more difficult. It would get him benched as a insubordinate, and the boredom of that was unbearable. So he reached down and snatched your wrists without any warning, as to not give you time to try fighting him off.
“Traitor!” You growled at Loki as he put both your wrists in one hand, pressed them up to your collarbone and followed Thor’s lead by leaning his upper body over yours.
“Sufficient?” Loki seethed to Strange with a clenched jaw, being careful to not block your airflow as he ignored your squirms of protests.
“We should be sure,” Thor nodded. Loki caught the small smirk in his brother’s lips just before he reached his free hand out and placed his fingertips on a patch of skin well away from the wound.
“NO!” You squeaked, then erupted in giggles as Thor firmly scratched his five fingers at the bare skin just below your ribs, where your stomach was becoming your side. Loki grinned as they watched you squirm for a few seconds, then made a few minor adjustments to make sure your torso was truly immobile.
“I now see why you couldn’t use standard restraints,” Thor chuckled as he removed his fingers.
Loki turned to see your rosy cheeks taking in air. “Little hellcat,” he chuckled. “A fighter, you are.”
“S-shut up, Loki,” you coughed for a second then tried to peer around him to Strange. “Get on with it then!” You near-shouted with a sigh of defeat, but before you could fully relax you were twitching again and attempting to hold in giggles as Strange cleaned the wound for the third time.
Loki waited for your laughs to turn into winces of pain, but that medicine must have been incredibly well-developed, because the feeling of Strange stitching you up nearly sent you into hysterics.
The brothers could hardly believe their eyes and ears, easily holding your mortal body still between them, but amazed that such a small sensation was bringing about such strength in your searches for freedom. You didn’t bother begging or pleading, instead only trying, and failing, to hold in your laughs as Strange administered stitch after stitch.
Loki again looked back at you and was pleasantly surprised to see that pang of tension fading from your features. From the energy around you. You spluttered out laughs and pulled on your wrists in his grasp as your eyes shut tight, but he didn’t miss the way your shoulders seemed to release their locked-in stress over the short minutes it took to get you all sorted.
“Done,” Strange plopped the metal scissors back on the table. “I’ll dress it and then you can go.”
“Must we continue our duties?” Loki enquired, admiring the admittedly impeccable handiwork.
“Loki, you disappoint me,” Thor chuckled. “Are you not the God of Mischief?”
“Oh hell no!” You struggled, picking up the cheekiness in Thor’s tone.
Loki turned to smirk down at you. “Scared, Agent?”
“So help me, all your gods, I will pop a stitch if you- n-noho THOR!” You squeaked, an immediate smile pulling deep into your cheeks as giggles once again poured out of you. Loki casted a glance to where Thor‘s hand was tucked under your leg, presumably tickling at the skin behind your knees.
“The stitches won’t pop,” Strange said from where he was grabbing a dressing and slipping on a non-bloodied pair of gloves. “I know my work.”
“Guys, plehehease!” You snivelled. “Dohoc, help me OHOUT- AH LOKI!” Your head fell back against the table when Loki used his free hand to very lightly pinch at the bare skin stretched over your lowest ribs. He felt you practically melt beneath him as you burst in bright laughter.
“Norns, brother,” Loki chuckled and tossed a look to where Thor had paused his torment. “I’ve never met a mortal so ticklish.”
“SHUHUT UHUP!” You shrieked in whiny laughter, only serving to make the brothers laugh themselves, and even Strange cracked a small smile as he finished placing the dressing. Behind Thor your feet twitched and shuffled on the table, unable to move much with a demigod draped over your upper legs.
“Done,” the Doctor declared and Loki stilled his fingers.
“Good,” you gulped in air beneath the Asgardians and pulled on your limbs to signal for them to get off you. After a few seconds’ hesitation, and a traded look, they let you go without further torment. Loki slipped his hand around your forearm to help you off the table as you continued to catch your breath. Thor clapped you on the shoulder as you glowered up at the God of Thunder but, try as you might, there was no concealing the truth from the God of Lies.
He caught the way your stress was alleviated, the small smile still pulled into your cheeks and the way your steps seemed lighter. He also didn’t fail to notice the lifting of your spirits, obvious through your resumed usual chatter as you left the med bay. Loki pondered it quietly as the three of you passed Barnes, who had been stationed outside the door awaiting his turn to be patched up. He let his mind wander for a second to hope to the Norns Strange wouldn’t require their further assistance with the former Winter Soldier; your smaller frame was child’s play to incapacitate, but Barnes’… not so much.
Although Loki didn’t broach the subject with you over the following weeks, he certainly didn’t forget it. It simply stayed in the back of his mind, only being brought to the forefront when something seemingly inconsequential would jog his memory.
Things had been hard lately. Your world was falling inwards, socially-speaking, and there seemed to be issues arising at double the rate they normally did. Missions increased in frequency, in intensity, and in emotional toll. Stark and Rogers sometimes lost the good-natured tint in their arguments. Barton suddenly took a few weeks off and declared it was hard to justify keeping the world safe for his family when they could so easily forget his face. Wanda’s birthday brought about a whole host of un-dealt-with trauma at the death of her twin brother - trauma that had been harnessed to lay disastrous waste to an entire enemy convoy before Vision stepped in and they were also suddenly gone for a week.
Loki could see you that you didn’t blame them. He could also see how your workload increased. Sometimes you’d arrive home just to be tapped on the arm by a leaving team asking for your help. You never refused, as much as it was clear to see you probably should. But you put yourself in the zone, slept sitting up in a jump-seat, and switched yourself on for the missions.
The busy period eventually subsided, though its effects came in aftershocks. You seemed okay, just a little tired, until one night when most people were eating at the dining table. A door accidentally slammed near the kitchen and you, bleary-eyed, picked up a knife, stumbled out of your seat and threw your back against a wall with the blade outstretched towards the noise. Barnes, who’d been sitting next to you, quickly and gently disarmed you, then placed a firm hand on your shoulder to bring you back to the moment. Loki had never seen you look so embarrassed. You‘d muttered some kind of apology, some comment about needing to sleep, and then excused yourself.
That moment with the knife was probably why you weren’t called out on the next few missions, and it looked to be the best thing for you. Wanda and Vision had returned and the tasks for that week weren’t too daunting. Certainly not to the extent that the nearly burnt-out Agent would be absolutely vital. So you finally got to sleep a little more, eat proper meals, and rest.
On one quiet evening, when most people were away, save for you, Thor, Loki and Stark holed up in his lab, Loki entered the living room to find you in a somewhat peculiar position. With his brother, no less.
You were perched on the back of the couch with Thor’s broad shoulders between your knees as you twisted and played with the golden Asgardian hair. Loki bumped his eyebrows at the sight, wondering if this meant anything or if perhaps you just enjoyed the physical contact. He’d never seen you get overtly flirty with your touch, your words or with the looks you gave. Furthermore, if he were to think long and hard about it, he’d probably find some memory of you running your fingers through someone else‘s hair, or working the heels of your palms into a teammate‘s tense shoulders. All in all, mere idea of this didn’t seem too out of character.
“What are you doing up there?” Thor asked as you giggled and twisted a few braids together.
“Creating art,” you grinned. Loki properly entered the room with his drink and smirked at the sight he could now more clearly see. You‘d made a bit of a mess. Not a tangled one, but not unlike what one might expect a small child to do when given free reign over another‘s long hair.
“Are you attempting to make some home for a woodland creature atop my brother’s head?” Loki joked as he took his place in a nearby armchair and casted a glance to what you two were watching. It didn’t look all too entertaining. You certainly didn’t seem as interested in the movie as you were in messing about with Thor’s hair.
Thor scoffed and brought a hand up to inspect, but you slapped it away. “No touching.”
“Let me see.”
“Oh, it’s glorious, brother.”
“What’ve you done?” Thor chuckled and brought his hand up again. This time you used your foot to nudge it away with a giggle. “Let me see!” Thor grabbed your ankle and brought his other hand up, and you weren’t as fast to hit it away. His fingers landed upon the mass of his hair and he craned his next to give you a playful menacing stare. “You said you were braiding.”
“There are several braids in there,” you flashed a grin then brought your hands up to keep going. “Let me finish and I’ll take a picture.”
“Like Hel you will,” Thor grunted and used his one hand to hit your two away, finding you were able to get in little pokes to his hair as you laughed at the tussle. A more forceful push from you sent you stumbling a little backwards, but Thor’s grip on your ankle kept you anchored as you pulled yourself upright once again. “Careful!” He laughed. “I may have to let you fall if you will not yield.”
Loki smirked at the scene, as amused as he could be with someone messing with his brother so well. He narrowed his eyes as he saw you hook your free leg over Thor’s shoulder and push your foot against the hand holding your other ankle, trying to prompt Thor to focus his grasp there. It worked. Thor grabbed your free ankle and you once again took strands of his hair as your bright laughter bounced around the room. “You leave me no choice, mortal,” Thor near-growled.
Ah. Loki knew that tint of light-hearted malice. You were in trouble.
Thor swung your other leg over his shoulder and let you fall a bit backwards. You yelped and clutched the back of the couch as Thor let you slip, stopping you when your knees were bent over his shoulders. So there you sat, keeping yourself somewhat upright with a strong hand gripping the sofa, struggling a little in Thor’s grasp. You were in a bit of a helpless situation. If Thor released your legs in this position you’d go tumbling down the marble floor. But if you let yourself down to place your hands against the floor and bring your legs over yourself to land, you ran the risk of Thor not letting go and being hung there vulnerably.
You didn’t have much time to question it or to make a plan, considering Thor crossed your ankles, threw an arm over to pin them against his chest, and then made quick work of fluttering his fingers against the soles of your socked feet.
“H-HEY!” You squeaked, eyes widening in surprise. Loki smirked at your reaction, not grapsing how you could’ve possibly thought this would end any other way. It was mere weeks ago the brothers had been called in to hold you in place because you were unfathomably ticklish. Surely you couldn’t have expected them to forget about it.
No. That would be foolish and you were no fool. Peculiar indeed.
“THOR CUHUT IT OHOUT!” You squealed with laughter and pulled yourself up to wrap an arm around his neck and slap away his hands with the other. Thor, in turn, responded by tilting sideways to pull you over and dump you onto the couch next to him. His tickling hand left your feet and reached up to grab at something else.
“You should know better than to mess with an Asgardian,” he chuckled solemnly then shot a glance to Loki. “Especially an Asgardian raised alongside the God of Mischief.”
You collapsed into frantic giggles and pushed at his hands, wrapping your legs tight around his neck from instinct. It was as if Thor felt nothing, Loki observed, as his older brother turned and propped himself up, shooting forwards to hover over your squirming body on the couch and partially trap you with his knees.
“LOKI HEHELP!” You called to him through the belly-laughs Thor had pulled from you by wedging his fingers up under your arms. You kicked and screamed through your squeal-laden laughter, but you were more thrashing in reaction than in any form of attempt at escape. Loki smirked when he put the pieces together, seeing the under-utilised escape routes, that happy grin in your cheeks, knowing how you so clearly provoked this and provided the elder of the two with the perfect chance to tickle you to pieces. He’d half a mind to ask you exactly whom you wanted him to help, but decided to keep his little revelation a secret. For now, at least.
“You brought this upon yourself,” he drawled, opening his book and pretending to read for the next several moments as Thor reduced you to a panting, blushing little puddle who was genuinely begging for mercy. Once he released you, however, you did the most foolish thing and tried to get revenge.
You really were asking for it.
After another minute or so of Thor teaching you a final lesson, you stayed down and got to catching your breath as you focused on the TV for the first time that evening. Loki looked at you from the corner of his eye and smirked again. You appeared more relaxed than he’d seen you in weeks. Happier. Definitely less tense. He wasn’t sure if that little tickle fight was what you needed in order to get some pent-up energy out, to loosen up your tight muscles, or if you simply desired to physically engage with someone. The more he took note of your subtle content smile and the way you’d practically melted into the cushions, the more he got the feeling it was probably all three reasons.
He, again, filed this away, now much more confident in his assumption.
Another few days went by until you were finally called back out on a mission. It wasn’t anything catastrophic, to do with nuclear weapons or child hostages. It was to be a simple surveillance op, just you and Barnes. From all accounts he heard, Loki knew the mission to have gone well, you and Barnes having executed your tasks perfectly. So Loki couldn’t understand your shrivelled and stony demeanour when you returned. You’d arrived back in the morning, skipped lunch, skipped dinner, he saw you leave in a car late and night and return an hour or so later. You’d probably gotten food and ate it elsewhere.
The next few days were somewhat the same. You smiled and laughed at all the right moments but you seemed to have the weight of the world pulling you to the depths. Your usual confident gaze often fell to your shoes as you walked, progressively curling in on yourself.
After too many days of this and apparently no one else saying anything, Loki took it upon himself to knock on your door just after another dinner you missed. You called for him to come in, peeking over the top of the laptop perched against your upper thighs and bent knees. As Loki approached you closed the lid.
“What‘s going on?” You raised an eyebrow at the lack of his usual snarky or teasing greeting.
“What’s the matter?” He asked, perching himself on the edge of your bed as you put your earbuds in their little pod. He propped himself up with a casual hand against the bedspread, his arm gently pressed against the side of your knee. You sighed and snapped your laptop shut, putting it on your bedside table before playing with the open-close mechanism on your headphones’ pod.
“I don’t know,” you mumbled, snapping the thick plastic shut before opening it again. You shrugged, “Just an off day. Or few days.” You snapped it shut again before catching yourself doing it. Probably fearing it was annoying him, you halted the action and instead played with the closed case in your fingers.
“Is there anything you need?” Loki asked, catching himself off-guard by how pliant he sounded. Never the matter.
“I’m fine,” you bit your tongue. “This’ll all go away in a few days. I’m not trying to be dramatic,” you made haste to explain, looking up at him with eyes willing him to believe you. “I’m not looking for attention.”
“I’m aware,” Loki nodded, and he caught the way the tension in your shoulders seemed to release, even just a little bit. It spurred an idea. A memory. Of times he’d seen that before... Suppose it worked? “Would it help if I tickled you?”
The case suddenly snapped shut with a loud click and you seemed to freeze with your eyes trained on it. You didn’t move for a few long seconds, licking your lips nervously before lifting your head but not quite meeting his eye. “The hell kind of question is that?” You squirmed in your seat, eyes no doubt taking note of how Loki was sat between you and your obvious exit.
“What?” Loki let a smirk come to his lips. “Was I not supposed to notice how it seems to relax you? Relieves your tension-”
“Lokihi,” you gave a nervous laugh. “This isn’t… that‘s not something people-”
“It makes sense, really,” Loki continued, outwardly ignoring the way your cheeks were reddening by the second, inwardly taking the utmost delight in how flustered he’d already made you. “Laughter is a natural stress reliever. It only makes sense tickling would make you feel better, especially since you enjoy it so much.”
“LOKI!” You squeaked, whipping your hands up to hide your burning face, pulling your bent knees closer.
“What?” He asked with fake innocence. He still wore his smirk, and you peeked your fingers from behind your eyes to see it there. “You seem a little flustered, Agent,” he commented.
“Stop it,” you warned, but your heart wasn’t in it. “This is ridiculous. I’m not gonna sit here and listen t- hehey!”
He cut you off with a deft squeeze at the muscle above your kneecap. You jolted your leg and gave him a serious look. Again, there was no heart in it.
“Loki…” You warned with your voice, but made no serious moves to escape. “Stop,” you set your jaw.
He chuckled and retracted his hand before smirking with a tilt of his head. “You don’t mean that.”
You blushed harder, apparently that was possible, and started stammering, babbling, trying to defend what little argumentative territory you had. However, he’d left little room for debate.
“I won’t make this too hard for you, Agent,” Loki chuckled again, making a show of undoing the latch at is wrist and rolling up one sleeve. “I won’t make you ask for it outright. After all, I did come here to help. All you have to do is not tell me to stop.” He shot you a wicked grin as he worked on his other sleeve. “Agreed?”
“L-Loki…” you scoffed. “Th-this is-”
“Agreed?”
You licked your lips again. You were nervous but you didn’t at all make any moves to get away from him, hold your hands up in defence, or give any outward indication of discomfort. Loki had to laugh, dropping his smirk in favour of a genuine smile. “Timid thing, is even that too hard to say?”
You scoffed again and rubbed your own upper arm anxiously. “You’re embarrassing me,” you admitted, hardly above a whisper. Then, your breath caught in your throat as Loki slowly moved his hand to rest against your side. His eyes locked with yours and he saw you bite your blushing lip. You didn’t say stop. So, he replaced his grin and pulsed his squeezing fingers at your hipbone.
“AHA WAIT!” You squeaked and already began sliding down from where you’d been leaning back against the headboard. “STOHOP!” You laughed loudly, but it died in your throat as Loki retracted his hand.
“Alright then,” he smiled kindly. He saw the regret flash across your face as he made to stand.
“Wait!” You rushed and grabbed his arm. Your mouth opened to speak, though you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to say the words he knew you wanted to.
“Instinct?” He smirked. You nodded, another bite of your lip. “Self-preservation.” You nodded again. “Do you need a different word to stop me?” He half-grinned. You didn’t nod. Was that a yes?
“I-I… I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Control my self-preservation instinct.”
Ah.
“If I have an out… I’ll take it.”
Some kind of excitement bloomed in Loki’s chest in a way he hadn’t quite experienced before. Oh, this was far too good. Was this permission? Something about the pure mischief, the pure trust, the implicit reliance on him to understand… oh, it was glorious. He grinned wide before he could stop himself.
“Then there’s no out,” Loki smirked wickedly, and your eyes sparkled in a nervous, excited anticipation. “But no more will I accept subtly, darling; you need to say “yes” if I am to proceed, lest I get this devastatingly wrong. Because once I start, it’s up to me to stop. Your pleas will not sway me.”
He saw you take a deep breath in, and then release it before you gave the world’s tiniest nod. Loki chuckled, bringing the mischief back to his voice, and turned to be kneeling beside you on the bed, looming over you, leering down. Taking your chin between his fingers, he lifted your face to make you look at him. “Your words, darling. Use them while you can.”
“Pfft,” your defiance kicked in as you shook your head from his grasp. “Make me.”
Loki chuckled and wrestled you for your wrists as you bit back grunts of exertion. He kept his smirk as he taunted, “Make you, you say? I tried to make this easy on you, but I suppose I’ve no reservations with making you beg for it.”
“Okay, okay! Fine!” You whimpered as he caught your wrists and pulled you to sit up right in front of him. You bit your tongue, then your lip, then blushed as you looked at his large hand around your smaller wrist. Then, you mumbled a whisper.
“Pardon?” He leaned in.
“Sss.” Was all he caught.
“I can’t hear you.”
You lifted your head with a defeated wince. “I said YES, Loki, don’t be such a-AH!” You yelped as he pushed you down and partially pinned you with his own body, your lower half still trapped beneath the covers.
“Such a what?” Loki scoffed, pressing your wrists to your chest to free another hand to flit under his body and grab at one of the more effective spots he knew. Frantic giggles bubbled over your lips as he firmly circled his thumb into the front of your lower ribs while digging against the sides with his middle and ring fingers. “Care to repeat that little comment?” You shrieked and fell into louder laughter as his thumb found a particularly sensitive space between two ribs, and he refocused his efforts there.
“Nuh-nuh-NO, NOHO!” You yelled through laughter, squirming hard underneath him as he kept kneading at your ribs without relent. He chuckled as your eyes closed and your feet kicked beneath the covers, then slowly moved his hand down your side in search of more sensitive places. His thumb pulsed into the side of your stomach the whole way down, drawing out hard laughter, but not as delectable as that spot on your ribs. “I cahan’t!” You squeaked, a grin pulled hard into your cheeks. “NO, DON’T GOHO DON’T- not theHERE!” You shrieked again as Loki paused just above the base of your hip.
“Bad spot?” He grinned, but your eyes were still closed. He moved his hand over your hip, fingers poised to strike, and your eyes burst open in shock. You looked at him a little desperately and he squinted a bit. “Worst spot?” He tiled his head. “So soon, I’ve discovered it?” You gulped, and he grinned. “Guess I’ll find out.” With that, he latched his fingers into the sides of your hips as his thumb dug into the soft spaces next to the bones.
Laughter exploded out of you as your legs scrambled hopelessly beneath the covers. Loki grinned as your eyes shut tight and he quickly learned that each time he veered off course slightly and targeted the lowest point on that soft space, a little shriek would pop through your lips. He had you laughing so hard you barely noticed when he removed his hand, until you felt it clawing and digging against the side of your lower ribs once again.
“AHNOAHA!” You squealed and tried twisting away, but that only gave Loki access to slip his four finger around the back of your ribcage as his thumb drilled into the side. You slammed that side of you back down with hiccupy laughter, shaking your head through squealing pleas that died at the tip of your tongue. The higher he moved to wedge his hand, the harder you clamped your arm to your side and thrashed beneath him.
“I think you’re hiding something,” he teased. You just shook your head and kept gasping with laughter as he dug his fingers in harder. “Tell me, darling. Are you nervous for what I’m about to do?” He kept tickling as he moved to pull your wrists up and remove the protective power of your clamped upper arms. “I witnessed Thor pulling some delightful squeals from you here a few days ago when you were pretending to be a helpless little thing. Pretending like you wanted to escape.”
“NOHO!” You gasped and fought hard to keep your arms clamped down, once again instinctively wriggling away from Loki’s evil fingers. He halted at once and got to his knees as you caught your breath, keeping your arms clamped firmly at your sides.
“Forgive me, it may take a bit of work to find the most effective way to restrain you,” he grinned as your eyes shot open and you started scrambling out from under the covers.
“L-Loki, you cahan’t, no,” you giggled as Loki tilted his head predatorily, eyes scanning over your body.
“I’m sure you’ll find I absolutely can,” he mused. “Why are you putting up such a fight? You’re getting exactly what you wanted, aren’t you?” He smirked as you glowered up at him.
“That’s not fair,” you huffed, finding yourself up on your knees next to him. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
“Does it make it worse?” He fake pouted, then morphed his face into a satisfied mischief. “Good.”
He lunged for you and you tried to dodge, but he caught you around the waist and pulled your body into his. You hissed and pressed your hands against his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist, both of you kneeling there while you wrestled. It would’ve been much more effective for you to press against his stomach, to keep your arms clamped down, but your shoving at his shoulders made him know for sure: you couldn’t wait for him to exploit that little spot of yours.
So without warning, he jammed his hands upwards and trapped you hard against him with his four fingers wiggling deep into the softest space under your arm.
Immediately, your arms whipped down and clamped to your sides, effectively trapping Loki’s wriggling fingers in the hypersensitive area. You seemed to be caught off guard by the sudden viciousness of his attack, because your screech wasn’t just one of laughter but also of surprise. At least, that’s what it sounded like. It was hard for Loki to tell for sure, given how hard you’d started belly-laughing and the strength of your thrashing against him.
“NONOPLEASE!” The squealing begs fumbled through your lips before you fell into a new spout of deep and desperate laughter, doing all you could to push against Loki as he only dug his fingers deeper and faster into the spaces under your arms. Your feet began drove into the mattress in an attempt to push him backwards, to maybe shove him into losing his balance, so he responded by letting you both fall sideways with your heads at the pillows. He hooked his legs around yours and tightened his grip around your body, so the only thing you could really move was your arms, but they were preoccupied being clamped to your sides.
In no time at all you laughter turn to silent hiccuping and you began weakening considerably, so Loki, as best he could with your arms still stuck beside you, moved his fingers down to harshly scratch at the front of your middle ribs with his middle and ring fingers. You shrieked again and shoved at him, then fell back into that silent laughter.
Loki grinned as he focused on the spot and watched you weakly writhe in his arms, hitting half-heartedly at his shoulders, a seemingly permanent grin etched into your impossibly rosy cheeks. He even noticed a tear or two trickling down as you spluttered and gasped with laughter, sometimes trying to beg but it only coming out in incoherent squeaks and squeals before you fell back into that hard silent laugh and buried your face in his shoulder.
He kept grinning as you squeaked and gasped against him, bringing his fingers even further down to firmly scratch at the sides of your stomach through your thin t-shirt. Your laughter ceased its silence and resumed into helpless giggles as more tears flowed down your cheeks, but you’d stopped fighting him. Instead of pushing against him, your fists had closed around the fabric covering his shoulders and were tugging in ticklish reaction. You only yelped and fought again when his fingers slipped lower and spidered against the soft skin just above your hips. The belly-laughter came back in full-force and your legs tugged hard where they were encased in his, your grip on his shoulders now pushing as you instinctively tried to shove yourself away, finding his iron grip entirely unmoving.
“I think ten more minutes right here should suffice,” he called to you and you immediately gasped, opening your eyes through your hard laughter. He grinned and took his hands away with a wink to let you know he was merely kidding. You sat there, trapped in his arms, red-faced as you sucked air through your smiling lip. He released you and propped himself up beside where you were panting hard and trying to catch your breath.
“The hell!” You coughed. “I dihidn’t think it would be like thahat,” you took another deep breath in, then let it out all at once.
Loki chuckled and pinched at your cheek, “What did you expect?” You swatted him away, but his hand was already gone.
“I dunnoho,” you mumbled, opening your eyes to look at him. “I don’t,” you shrugged with a chuckle. “I suppohose that’s exactly what I should’ve expected.”
“Did it help?”
The question was almost rhetorical, but you answered it anyway, with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I think it did.”
“You appear more relaxed, at least.”
“Do I?”
“Here,” Loki beckoned you to sit up, and you begrudgingly obliged. He made to move behind you and you let him with only a small skeptical glance over your shoulder. His hands met your shoulders and his thumbs pressed into a place that made you sigh. “Your body holds tension here,” he explained, then ran a hand up to brush his thumb against the hinge of your jaw. “Which affects here. You find it hard to speak when you‘re tense,” he said. It was a half-statement, half-question. You paused, then nodded. He placed his hands back on your shoulders and whispered, “Release.”
He pressed his hands down and you let your shoulders drop as he pulled them back, forcing you stop curling in on yourself. You winced a little, but made a small noise of surprise, as if you hadn’t stood up straight in years.
Loki felt the way you relaxed into his touch and let him change your tense posture. Once he had you sitting up straight you sighed again, nestling a bit into his touch. “Touch is an important need,” Loki hummed. “It is okay to seek it out.”
You chuckled dryly. “Maybe it’s different on Asgard, but people on Earth can misinterpret that easily. I’m not in the business of making things awkward with my co-workers.”
“You need not be embarrassed to come to me,” Loki said, running his hands over your shoulders to squeeze your upper arms. “I’m not of Earth.”
You casted a glance to him over your shoulder. “Why are you doing this? Being so nice.”
Gods, it struck his heart to see those glassy eyes of yours. He squeezed your arms again. “You matter to me. And to Thor. You’re like… our favourite little mortal.”
You scoffed and giggled, turning back away, “You’re making me sound like a pet.”
“Well do you not need care and attention? To be fed and watered?” He teased with a grin. You fully turned and swatted his leg.
“You do too!”
He laughed warmly and leaned back to rest against your headboard. “For lives as short as you live, you Midgardians are insufferably and time-wastingly bashful when it comes to expressing your needs for affection,” he chuckled and picked up your laptop. Resting it beside you two as he opened it with one hand. “Now what silly little programme were you watching-”
“Loki, wait-”
It was too late. He’d opened the lid and seen what you’d been looking at. It floored him. He didn’t even know you’d been hiding something, that’s how well you hid how you truly felt.
“What in the Norns…” Loki breathed out sadly as he saw your search results in various tabs. You sunk a little lower in his hold and your hands met your face as he scrolled through the different open windows.
Jobs in NYC
Jobs in London
Jobs for people who suck at everything
Marines enlistment
Barista jobs Spain
“What’s all this?” Loki tried to look down to you but you wouldn’t let him see your face. Instead, you pulled your laptop away from him and he let you up. Shutting the lid, you placed it back on the bedside table and began gathering the courage to face him. He saw your arm caress the other in a self-soothing motion, so he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed. “You want to leave?”
“No, but… more days than not… I feel like I’m not cut out for this,” you quietly admitted, only half-turning to him. “I’m not super, or special, or enhanced, I’m just... like, I’d probably explode if you or Thor punched me with full force, my sharpshooting skills will never match Clint’s or Bucky’s or yours. I don’t know why I’m here, and it’s getting harder to pretend to feel like I belong.”
“Hey-”
“I feel like an imposter,” you sniffed, dabbing at a single tear in your eye before sitting up much straighter and composing yourself. “It’s fine,” you shook your head, your body revealing your lie. “I’m fine. Sorry, I’m not looking for attention or compliments or anything like that,” you told him again. He saw that tension creep into your shoulders once again so he placed hands across them both and gently forced them away from your ears. You let him calm you.
“You’re not an imposter. I’ve seen you run circles around your enemies,” he breathed out and pressed into your shoulders soothingly, satisfied when he heard you release a shallow breath and settle a bit more. “I don’t suppose I can prove it to you, can I? Being the God of Lies and all,” he chuckled sadly and you cracked a small smile, finally looking over at him.
“There’ll always be insecure days,” you conceded. “I’m too much of a coward to actually leave and serve coffee in Madrid.”
“You’re certainly not a coward,” he kneaded into your shoulders again, adding a bit of a scolding strength to his voice. “I may be the God of Lies, but I’ve also been trained as a warrior for over nine hundred years. I know cowardice when I see it. I don’t see it in you.”
He saw your eyes well up a bit more, but you smiled and nodded in thanks before looking back down. Desperate to bring you back to a happier place, he added a teasing edge to his voice. “Cowardice does not befall you, but foolishness certainly does. Honestly, provoking my brother into tickling you. Are you mad?”
You blushed, scoffed, stammered. “Wha-what do you-”
“You’ll learn one day that I am exceptionally perceptive,” he chuckled as you flushed even more red.
Then, he saw you smirk and turn to him with an inquisitive look. “You speak as someone who’s been on the receiving end of your brother’s onslaught.”
“Some younger sibling experiences are universal, much to my misfortune.”
“Come on,” you grinned and shifted to face him. “You’ve gotta tell me where you’re ticklish.”
“Not a chance,” he chuckled.
“Then I’ll ask Thor.”
“He won’t tell you. He believes such advantages are to be earned, not freely given.”
“Then I’ll earn it myself,” you jutted out your chin confidently and your eyes sparkled as your shoulders lowered even more.
Loki laughed brightly and then smirked. “Am I to pretend it’s true revenge you seek, and not simply further torment?”
You reached out and shoved his shoulder with both hands. “You’re an asshole.”
“Ooh, spoiling for more? Those are fighting words, Agent,” Loki grinned and you blushed, but less than you had been that evening.
“Not right now,” you laughed nervously, truthfully. “I think I’d just like to watch a movie. You can stay if you want.”
Loki looked at you silently until you looked back up at him. You looked confused at his lack of comment, then a gentle smile pulled at his cheeks. “Ask for what you want. Don’t be afraid to express what you want. You deserve what you want.”
You nodded and bit your lip before staring him dead in the eyes confidently. You were no coward, and you didn’t want to act like one. “I’d really like it if you stayed and watched a movie with me. I could use a friend right now.”
“I’ve got other plans, I’m afraid,” Loki teased, but picked up your laptop and nodded to the space next to him. You rolled your eyes and muttered something about him being a jerk.
He opened the lid, closed all those tabs and then passed the computer over for you to flit around the internet and find something of interest. When you finally found something that looked to please you, you almost turned to ask him if it was alright, but you then said, “I wanna watch this.”
“Very well,” Loki nodded, then pulled it back on his lap, forcing you to lean in a little closer. In no time at all, your head was against his shoulder, your breathing steadied, and, next to your true friend, you fell asleep watching your favourite movie.
A/N- It's been a while since I've written anything or played BG3, so I wanted to write something for ler!Karlach and lee!Tav. The tav (male- uses he/him) is a durge ranger I made in game who has embraced the urge so far but could be redeemable depending on how his story goes and/or who he romances. I also have it in my head where he's the best friend of my durge cleric of Illmater named Phoebe. Anyways, I had fun writing it and I hope whomever reads it likes it too :D.
Fandom- BG3
Pairing- Karlach x Durge Tav (male- uses he/him pronouns in the story). Their relationship is platonic but Karlach does tease him quite a bit. Spoilers for Act 2 included.
WC- ~2,660.
Karlach's able to touch again and the one of the first things she asks for is a cuddle. Tav isn't going to turn down the free heat in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, but he also doesn't anticipate her tickling him.
"How does this feel?"
"Fine. Now stop moving."
"Right, sorry."
…..
"It's been so long since I've done this," Karlach breathed a hushed giggle into Tav's ear. "I almost forget how."
"It's actually quite simple if you'd stop moving and shut up."
There was no true venom in Tav's words as he pressed his back into the tiefling's chest. He was used to the cold and dark. Spending his youth Underdark lended itself to that. But the cold brought on by the Shadow Curse was unnatural. Seizing. It was the kind of cold that seeped into the bones and weighed someone down as if with lead. Tav didn't get cold; but under the Shadow Curse, he was cold. He never thought he'd see the day where he'd be grateful for the appropriately named Last Light Inn.
That was until he realized that they did not have enough beds for everyone to get their own.
If it wasn't for Isobel's shield over the inn, he would've slaughtered everyone that he could get his hands on, including her. He's killed people for less. And honestly? The thought of it made the dark voices in his head purr with delight. Maybe if he coated himself in the Harpers' and tieflings' hot blood, he wouldn't be so cold.
The gentle hum of Karlach's cooled down engine brought him out of his happy, murderous thoughts. He exhaled through his nose. Fine, he grumbled to himself. He'd keep his hands off his scimitar and settle for the free heat he was getting from his companion. There was a tiny part of him that liked to see her happy, gods know why, and he didn't want to cut the moment short. It fascinated him that after spending ten years fighting in the Hells and finally being granted the ability to touch again, the first thing this tank of a woman wants is a cuddle.
"Don't be like that," Karlach huffed again. She moved herself closer when he backed into her. Tav bit back a content sigh when the heat hit his back. "You said it was alright to share the bed. Having second thoughts, soldier?"
Tav clicked his tongue. "No," he muttered. He took a breath before continuing, as her warmth comfortably rolled up his back. "But I would like to sleep."
"I know. I'm just so happy," Karlach's breath hitched as tears pricked her eyes. Gods above, Tav thought. Don't let her start crying. "Ten years is a long time to go without being able to touch someone. I never thought I'd be able to again. And now that I can? I'm buzzing. Things are finally starting to look up for me."
Tav pursed his lips. Dammon told them that her engine fix was temporary. That eventually, it'd burn out and take her with it if she didn't go back to Avernus. So what was one moment of happiness if it didn't last? Either Karlach would go back to the very hell she fought to escape from, or die. None of this mattered.
These words replayed in his mind, waiting for the opportunity to be free, but that moment didn't come. He swallowed them down and instead said, "…Glad you got what you wanted."
Ugh. That felt weird. Maybe the tadpole was starting to affect him.
"Heh, I'm just getting started," Karlach grinned. "The world's probably not ready for unleashed Karlach but it's getting it anyway. Shadowheart said she'd braid my hair next time we're at camp, and Wyll and I are going to wrestle at some point. He actually thinks he's got a leg up on me, and-"
Tav's eyes drooped closed while Karlach spoke. He was too tired to tell her to shut up again, and the likelihood of her actually doing it was slim to none anyway. He breathed heavier, lulled by the heat and the oddly soft pillow that cradled his face. Her voice faded into the background. He was just drifting off to sleep when—
"…Hey soldier?"
Gods dammit.
Tav groaned and begrudgingly opened his eyes. "What?"
He felt her shift behind him. The heat radiating off her got a little bit hotter.
"Could I hold you?"
Tav's brows furrowed. He propped himself up on one elbow and ungracefully turned to face her. "Are you serious?"
If this was a joke, she was gonna be the first person he killed, whether he had his scimitar or not. Surprisingly, there was some nervousness mixed in with her genuine smile.
"Yeah," she nodded. "I'll be honest, Tav. I love hugs. And cuddling. You probably wouldn't guess it by looking at me, but you'd never find someone desperate for a cuddle more than me. Pathetic, I know. But the engine wants what it wants."
Tav stared at her without a word. He was still waiting for her to say that she was joking so that he could wrap his hands around her throat. The dark urge was yearning for that. Karlach continued, smiling a bit wider.
"We're already close together anyway," she gestured to the small, almost nonexistent sliver of space between them. "And if I make you uncomfortable at all, I'll roll onto the floor and sleep there instead. So…can I?"
The tips of Karlach's flames turning blue told him that no, she wasn't joking. Far from it actually.
Now it was his turn to falter.
Sharing a bed was already something that typically wasn't in the cards for him. This wasn't from a lack of candidates; similar to Astarion, Tav had a high opinion of himself and could bed just about anyone. Karlach wasn't asking to get into his pants though. What she was asking for was innocent and sweet. And that is was gave him pause.
He felt the unfamiliar sensation of his pulse quickening. A butterfly in his stomach. He continued to stare, to remain silent, still looking for any indication that maybe she was in fact joking.
Nothing. Nothing but that same eager, almost puppy-like expression and hopeful smile.
Finally, Tav gave a slow nod. He was still feeling a bit cold anyways. Why not take advantage of the additional warmth?
"Alright," he agreed in a low whisper. He turned his back to her again and laid his head back down on the pillow. "Though try not to get too excited."
Karlach laughed at that. "Ooo, listen to you. 'I'm a dark and scary ranger who thinks a woman's brain will turn to mush the moment he gets a little close'." She even dropped her voice so that it was a lower baritone like Tav's. Then, she wrapped her big arms around him, holding onto him like a teddy bear. "Well too bad. I may enjoy a cuddle, but I am not—"
"Brain?"
Tav interrupted and peeked back at Karlach with a questioning expression. The tiefling mirrored that look. Tav smirked, "Ah, I forgot you had one of those."
Karlach laughed again, this time louder, while she absently prodded into Tav's side. "Fuck you."
Tav was already chuckling but the prodding had him flinching away, snickering louder. She paused, he paused, and the new discovery hung in the air. Then she grinned.
"Don't tell me you're ticklish, soldier."
She was still holding onto him, still facing his back, and her claws experimentally walked along his torso. Tav squirmed and grabbed at her large hands. All of a sudden, he wasn't feeling so tired. Before his companions, he wouldn't have had a clue what tickling was. It wasn't a violent act and didn't enter the equation when he took people's lives. As for who tickled who first, he couldn't remember. All he remembered was that he viewed it as an accessible weakness. Tav didn't have any of those. Or so he thought.
What a difference a tenday made.
"I'm noh-hot—," he lied. As much as he wrestled with her hands, her gentle scritching ended up on his lowermost ribs, where he jolted and chuckled louder. He tried to stifle his chuckling through sheer willpower, pursed lips, and gritted teeth. None of those helped him."Cut that ohout, Karlach!"
"But you said we could cuddle," she argued. He was strong, Karlach had to admit it, but him being tired was currently working in her favor. His movements were unpolished and sloppy and were much easier to counter. As carefully as she could, she pulled him flush against her body and draped one of her legs over his, pinning him. "Don't go, Tav. I just wanna cuddle!"
"Thihis isn't cuddling—" The butterflies in his stomach hit him like a carriage as he covered his mouth with one of his hands. His other hand fruitlessly tugged at her wrist. The realization of oh shit, this tickles fell on top of him and he didn't really know how to handle it. The chuckles were coming faster than he could stop them, so he settled for stifling them. He growled in between chuckles, "I-I'm gonna k-kihihill youhu—"
Karlach giggled. "Promises, promises . How do you expect me to be afraid when our grumpy leader's got these ticklish ribs?" She accentuated her teasing by giving a good squeeze to the side of his rib cage. Tav spluttered and writhed against her. "Makes me wonder if you've got any other tickle spots.."
Instead of answering her, Tav focused what little energy he still had into battling with her hands. He was gaining some ground and Karlach was quick to scribble her claws across his stomach. Tav bucked in her hold and bit his lip to trap the incoming laugh. Karlach brightened and gently drilled her thumbs into the sides of his stomach. This spot was much easier to get to with his thin camp shirt.
"Oh?" Karlach hummed, grinning. "Looks like I've got something…~"
Tav curled in on himself, as much as he could while pinned against her, and shook with the effort of keeping his laughter from breaking free. Half of his smile was buried in his pillow. Any threats he planned on making were also trapped. Karlach's tail thumped behind her as she worked through his defenses with every ticklish prod.
"Taaav," she crooned. "Are you sure that this doesn't tickle?"
Tav shook his head like the stubborn ranger he was. He turned his head so it was completely hidden in the pillow. He was still shaking with restrained laughter, and she was still tickling, poking at especially sensitive spots near his navel. She snickered.
"You're a tough one to crack, huh?" Karlach made him jump by squeezing his sides only to return to his stomach. "That's our Tav. The strong and silent type. Our very own lone wolf. If you weren't so grouchy, I may have had the hots for you. There's definitely something about you."
The dam was about to break. Tav's legs drummed against the bed. He seized her hands yet again, having an arguably good grip on them, but she wasn't letting go. A wobbly grin etched its way across his face. The quiet, but steadier laughter was easier to come by, though muffled by the pillow. Karlach teased him by swiping from his stomach, sides, and lower ribs like an enthusiastic kitten.
"Heh, you're definitely got some muscle to you, that's for sure," She continued yapping, her tickles finding their way to skin thanks to all of his squirming. "That's hot—"
Tav couldn't take it anymore. His head snapped up from the pillow, and what was supposed to be a growl was a series of choked laughter.
"Would youhuhu shuhut up!"
There was no reeling the laughter back in now. It wasn't a loud and chaotic sound. Instead, it was quieter and deeper, but still just as frantic. It fit him, Karlach noted, and there was something adorable in that.
"Nope, not a chance," she returned. She tickled him in earnest now, poking into those spots around the navel again that got him writhing. "You think you're so tough, huh? What's so funny? I thought you weren't ticklish."
"Sh-Shuht—" He tried to repeat himself but couldn't, bucking as one claw circled and scritched around his navel. He curled in on himself even more, but that somehow made it worse. 'OAhahaaha! Youhuhu're dehehead!"
"Nuh-uh! I've got a new lease on life," she teased. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck from behind, switching from quick scratching to kneading and pinching into random spots along his tummy. "Plenty of time to tickle my friends."
"Grrr-gohohonna cut that shohohohrt!" Tav's laughter picked up as he gripped her hands tighter. The ticklish sensations were settling into him and as much as he bucked in her hold, she wasn't letting go. There was another unfamiliar sensation of his cheeks flushing.
"Ooo I'm sooo scared," Karlach pretended to be terrified as she wrestled him onto his back with a decent amount of effort. Now he was pinned between her and the mattress. Her frame alone was enough to keep his arms and legs down. Tav grunted, and the playful grin still donning her face made the metaphorical butterflies in his stomach go wild. "Gonna get you now, soldier."
Tav took the opportunity to catch his breath during the lull, chest rising and falling with each breathe he took. "Karlach," he began, still trying to reign his chuckles in. "Let me up, and I promise not to—"
"Say you're ticklish then," she grinned. She held her hands just above his torso and wiggled her fingers. "Say it and I'll let you up."
Tav's cheeks flushed some more. "Why would I admit to something that you can clearly seeeehehehehe!" He jolted when she suddenly reached underneath his arms and buried wiggling fingers into his armpits. He brought his arms down over her hands and drowned in giggles that he'd surely deny later. Karlach cooed above him.
"Wrong answer, soldier," she snickered. "Say ittt~."
She pulled her hands free and kneaded her knuckles down his rib cage. She lingered in between the bones as his giggling deepened.
"Kahahaharlach!" Tav twisted his torso from one side to the other, belting out a louder laugh whenever she pinched a rib or dug in just a little more. He heard her giggle right before she honed back in on his stomach. She didn't tickle right away, just poking at the now exposed skin and marveling in the fact that she wasn't burning him. Tav spluttered again, his giggling jumping to short bursts of frantic laughter. "D-Dohohohn't you dahahahare!"
"I dare," she smiled. "But I'll give you five seconds to change your mind. Five,"
She pinched one side of his tummy, snorting when he squirmed in the opposite direction. The smile on his face was wide enough to metaphorically split his face in half.
"Leheheht mehehe uhuhp!"
"Four," She brought both of her thumbs down and kneaded both sides of his stomach. The bed creaked as he began bucking, laughing harder.
"KAhahhahaha!"
"Three. Better hurry Tav," She was smiling almost as much as he was while she kept up the ticklish onslaught. "You're running out of time."
In truth, Karlach wasn't really good at waiting. Or count downs. So she definitely got ahead of herself when she started raking her claws up and down his stomach in a steady rhythm, only letting up when she blew raspberries just above his navel. Tav's deep cackling threatened to wake up any of their sleeping neighbors.
……
By the time Karlach stopped tickling him, he was exhausted. He was tangled back up in her arms while coming down from his laughter. Karlach nestled her head back onto his shoulder, and the ranger mumbled sleepily.
"Prick," he again said without any true venom. Karlach snickered.
"Takes one to know one, soldier," she returned, finally yawning. She paused for a moment before adding, "You don't hate me though, right?"
Tav shook his head. He chalked it up to his sleepiness but, for the moment, his urge was quiet. He guessed he could tolerate her cuddles and let her live to see another day.
my favorite reddit pod just read a story about someone with a tkl kink which one of you posted on there I am literally so flustered listening to my podcast rn 😭😭😭
my favorite reddit pod just read a story about someone with a tkl kink which one of you posted on there I am literally so flustered listening to my podcast rn 😭😭😭
Disclaimer: English is not my first language, and this is my first fic in about 10 years, so be nice!!! I needed some joy in my life so I wrote it. Please leave feedback if you feel like it, even a simple “damn, good job” counts, for real
Also just in case: you’re not allowed to post it anywhere without my permission.
Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077
Pairing: V/Kerry
Summary: Two grown ass men get tipsy and start acting silly, which results in lots of bantering and roughhousing
Potential tw: alcohol use, swearing
Aaaaand here’s a little drawing of it
Enjoy!
———————
“Nah, nah, nah, I’m tellin’ ya, V, ‘s not what you think it was.”
“Yeah? You remember a second of it? You got so shitfaced-…”
“Oh shut it, merc.”
Kerry chuckles and gives his man a proper nudge, which turns out to be barely a poke for a chromed merc, only making him smirk wider. The boys are chilling on one of Kerry’s couches, empty beer cans on V’s side and a few finished martini glasses on the other — Kerry’s always had a thing for drinking the same type of cocktails out of different glasses if that was an option instead of simply refilling them. There’s a fond, almost goofy smile on the older man’s face as he can finally spend some proper time with his precious cutie patootie input, and despite it being nothing special, just an ordinary date, he can’t help beaming at the man. The more they see each other, the more pleasure their conversations bring him, which is a breath of fresh air by itself, not to mention an uncharted territory since usually he’d rather not engage too much in the emotional, touchy-feely stuff outside of his own rambling and concerns. Yet every time they meet, V’s got a new story to tell, and Kerry actually finds himself eager to listen. Somehow so intimate yet so trivial.
Not just casual humping (at least not every time), no basic mutual complaining or boring how-are-you-doing type of exchanges, but a raw, utterly human experience.
Nibbles is sitting near V’s leg, casually cleaning her paw with a disinterested look, though the purring she emits makes the couch vibrate slightly, the corners of V’s mouth twitching upwards at the display. His hand moves to give her a few gentle pets, the expression on his face making Kerry chuckle.
“What, don’t I get any gushing over? Not good enough for ya?”
“More like not stinky enough. Don’ worry, you’re gettin’ there,” V leans down for a moment, sniffing the top of Nibbles’s head, his nose wrinkling, “d’ya know if we should give ‘er a shower..? Or is she supposed to smell like that?..”
The sight of the notorious V being a doted feline caretaker is utterly amusing, yet Kerry decides not to comment on it, not wishing to spook the moment — the merc’s cute in this state, he’d rather enjoy it while it lasts.
“Nah, don’t worry about it, this type of stink is natural for them. Trust me, you’ll know when it’s time to take action. Cats are more, eh… hygienic like that I guess. Self-cleaning and shit. So yeah, our lady here is doing marvelous, don’t you worry, single dad.”
“Single?..”
“…Well, technically, we’re not married yet.”
“…yet, huh?” That's when Kerry actually cracks up a notch and gives his man an unimpressed look, though it’s mostly in jest.
“Stop it.”
The expression on V’s face is usually hard to read as he has that trademark merc glare most of the time, seemingly out of habit, but at the moment it’s surprisingly serene, happy even, definitely a positive influence on the both of them. Kerry’s hand reaches out to caress his cheek, eyes squinting in a sly, somewhat mischievous manner.
“Shit. I love your gruff looks and attitude, but seeing you relaxed on a downtime, chillin’ here and all… it’s cute. Nice change o’ pace. It suits ya.”
V doesn’t mind the affectionate gesture, on the contrary, he leans into it, and even though he doesn’t like it when something’s close to his eyes, he’s enjoying the warmth of his man’s hand. Rough fingertips tracing the pieces of his cyberware.
“Never thought I’d hear that word about myself. But eh… heheh, thanks. Still not used to… y’know. Relaxin’ an’ all that.”
“No shit. Years of busting your ass would do that to ya. Don’ worry, you can always drop everything and become my boytoy, I got ‘nough eddies for the both of us~”
At first, V gives him the look, but it softens in mere seconds as he’s well aware it’s a joke. He even crosses his arms on his chest, somehow both entertained and annoyed.
“You already paid for my trauma team premium, Ker. Even though I specifically told you no-…”
“Guilty,” Kerry raises his arms in the air in a defeated gesture, a bit more serious this time around, “but for real, V, can you blame me? I got the eddies to provide my input with extra protection so he doesn’t bleed out somewhere nasty, and I’m supposed to just not do it? Nah, man, this won’t do. B’sides, not like it’s makin’ a hole in my pocket, I could buy you a whole ass AV, shit, a battalion of ‘em! So don’ ya go pout ‘bout it, it’s a gift! Don’t look a gift horse in the eyes or some shit!”
V chuckles at that, finding Kerry’s attempts to defend himself amusing, but after all, he is grateful for it, especially considering that Kerry’s stubborn enough to not listen to him when it’s a safety matter. It could be infuriating at times, and even hot when the mood is right, but overall it’s appreciated. Kerry’s own well-being? Eh, he’s already spoiled rotten, he’ll live one way or another. V’s health and safety? Top priority.
Kerry snickers as if he can read minds, and though at the moment V’s emotions are written all over his face, it’s hard not to tease him further:
“I could always buy ya some fancy lingerie to walk around all pretty, like a present to be unwrapped~ You could wear it as a thank you for my kindness”
V gives him the most skeptical, disappointed and straight up annoyed look he can muster at the moment, which only spurs Kerry on further.
“Or I could buy you a whole fuckin’ set o’ things. Leather harness, lacy sets, fishnet stockings… All ganic! Some fancy-shiny collar with a leash to take you on walks. What d’ya think? Anythin’ tinglin’?~”
“Kerry.”
“‘Lright, ‘lright, don’ get your panties in a twist, I’m just messin’ with ya~”
Kerry’s cheeks are slightly flushed with alcohol, creating more contrast between his actual skin tone and his freckles, and he chuckles under his breath, seemingly pondering something.
“Y’know, you’re the first person that actually survived a year with me without incidents. I know, shocking, ‘cause I’m so easy to deal with, but yeah, I usually get bored of people pretty quickly.”
Translating from Kerry language it means “I love you, and I appreciate having you in my life”, so that alone brings a little smile back to V’s face. His arm wraps around his input’s shoulders, giving him a proper, affectionate squeeze, and his hand moves to caress his upper arm, enjoying the skin texture. All while Kerry’s head rests on his shoulder, “Guess that means I’m not boring. I’ll take it as a compliment, especially coming from the great Kerry Eurodyne himself~”
The Kerry in question smiles at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement, which makes them look oddly scheming, like he’s up to no good. But it all quickly disappears once he relaxes, now simply observing his man with a soft, somewhat condescending demeanour.
“Damn right you’re not boring, in fact, you’re anythin’ but,” his hand carefully slides up into V’s short hair, stroking them, rubbing the scalp with his fingertips as he admires his man’s handsome face, savouring the sight, while also feeling proud of himself for having landed such a hot guy, and it gives him an idea, “bet ya only fell for my looks and money, didn’t ya?~”
They both know it’s just another one of Kerry’s quips, but V can’t help “indulging” him: “Naturally. Your ass is flat as fuck though, you better work on that if ya want me t’stay. No offence, just sayin’.”
The way Kerry’s face immediately changes almost makes V crack up right there on the spot.
“Wha-… Not like yours is much better!”
That’s when the merc finally gives in and actually laughs, his smile turning into a grin. The thing is, just a couple of days ago they were exchanging their workout routines with Kerry complaining he can’t get a proper six pack no matter how hard he tries, genetics be damned, and that includes his rockerbum — gaining muscle mass is a true challenge for him, and V’s well aware of that fact. All while V is a walking Greek god at this point, having installed plenty of implants, along with his occupation working in his favour when it comes to maintaining an athletic body. The overall banter amuses him nonetheless.
“We both know that’s not true, Ker. Face reality~”
“Okay, you know what? I got my other assets, you dumb merc, so save it!”
V does his best to feign surprise at that, going so far as to widen his eyes and open his mouth, making sure it’s right in between exaggeratedly theatrical and genuine, “You do?!”
Kerry’s hand swats at his shoulder.
“You’ve had your hands all over my freakin’ assets this past year, you gonk, I know you can’t get enough of ‘em!”
“Y’sure ‘bout it? I don’ really remember anythin’ like that.”
“I’ve got receipts, merc. Lots of ‘em.”
“Hm… You might be onto something, yeah. I remember my hands touching something really… flat. Y’know, so flat ya could play pool on it. Yeah, really… really flat.”
One of Kerry’s hands instantly darts towards his side, aiming for the ribs, and nimble fingers give it a few well-deserved scribbles. Of course, V was expecting something like that, and he easily grabs Kerry’s hand, but at what cost — the can of beer he’s been holding slips out of his grasp and falls straight onto his thigh, slightly splashing some of it in the process. The sound alerts Nibbles, and she proceeds to run away, startled by the whole ordeal, while V has that devious smirk on his face that speaks trouble. He was just given a perfect excuse.
“…Good job, Ker. Now it’s my turn.”
“Gonna hafta catch me first, gonkface,” a shit-eating grin on Kerry’s mug as he yanks his arm out of the grip, the man’s absolute definition of smug as he jolts up to his feet before V can even process what he’s up to, the invitation clear in his eyes. For a few seconds the rockerboy waits there to see if V would follow along with his initiative, and the moment the merc chuckles and starts moving, Kerry darts away, running around the couch to instantly bolt towards the other end of the villa.
“You’re so gonna get it,” after giving his man a couple seconds headstart, V jumps up to his feet, racing after him, a matching grin of his own making him look almost giddy with excitement.
Kerry straight up laughs, cutting corners, veering around furniture, occasionally tripping over stuff scattered on the floor — he can even hear a sound of something falling and breaking behind him, but it only makes him laugh even more. The sound of V’s rapid footsteps is getting closer, riling up the thrill of the chase, and he’s tempted to glance back at the merc, but he knows better, his heart is racing at the thought of his input being not far behind.
“Piss off, ya gohohonk!!”
“Fat chance!”
After sprinting upstairs, he quickly runs around the billiard table, trying to fool V and pretend that he’s changing direction, but yelps when he finds the man smirking at him from its other side, now both of them staring at each other with matching amusement. Kerry darts one way — V follows, Kerry darts the other — V’s already there, the rockerboy ends up barking out a laugh and turning around, huffing a bit from so much action, now aiming to go back down to the ground floor.
A surprised scream escapes him as two strong arms wrap around his midriff from behind, the sound he makes instantly bringing a barely noticeable flush to his face while he laughs, struggling in his man’s hold — all for shits and giggles of course. His vicious assailant is grinning from ear to ear, definitely proud of himself, and leans down a notch, easily throwing Kerry over his shoulder, the superior merc strength getting the best of the squirming singer, carrying him with ease.
“Put me down!! V!” His words are filled with shameless laughter, and all he gets in response to his plea is a playful smack on the ass, making him twitch and gasp in surprise, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he’s lazily wriggling around, “Ya dickhead!!”
“Yeah, go on, flail some more so I can drop ya and pretend it was an accident~”
He laughs, giving Kerry's rear another slap, rather gentle by his standards, the silly grin not leaving his face even for a second.
“Oops!” V suddenly flinches, pretending to be about to drop his dork of a man, but quickly straightens back up, smug as ever.
“ACK! Vincent!!” Kerry yelps, holding onto the merc’s hips for dear life, and smacks him on the shoulders with a playful glare, “You bastard! You better not drop me!”
The next thing Kerry knows is that he’s tossed onto his own bed, landing on his back with a loud “oof”, some air getting knocked out of his lungs, and even though he gives V another disapproving glare, it lacks any actual menace as here he is — lying down about to get fucked straight into the bedding by his resilient, steaming hot input. Tomorrow his lower back is going to be sore as hell, but it’s so worth it, therefore a bit of roughhousing is appreciated in this context. That’s until he meets V’s eyes full of sly cheerfulness — definitely not the look he has when he’s about to pound Kerry’s brains out. The slight panic appearing on the rockerboy’s face only entertains the merc further.
“W-Wait, V, what are ya-…” In a matter of seconds Kerry feels a whole ass barrage of wiggling fingers on his sides, and a loud, obnoxious laugh bursts out of his throat — he wasn’t expecting it at all. The man gives his input the most baffled, indignant diva look he can possibly achieve while his hands dart up to grab V’s wrists, pushing them away for mere moments before they return, continuing the outrageous act.
“V!! You know I hate that shit!! Oh you fuckin’ asshole, when I get away I’ll-… Pffft-hahaha!! You’re dehehead!!”
He is kind of disappointed that the whole thing wasn’t about sex, but he’s laughing so much he can’t spare a second to think about it. The Kerry Eurodyne is kicking his feet against the mattress nonstop in a laughing fit, his cackles filling the area to the brim while he’s thrashing around, his cheeks already flushing once again. V’s sitting near, a big, kind of goofy smirk on his face, both hands busy forcing all kinds of noises out of his input for his own entertainment, but he can tell that Kerry doesn’t actually mind it either — otherwise he would’ve been way less reactive and definitely grouchier than he is now. Of course, he’s always been ridiculously ticklish, so his laughing fit is a predictable reaction, but V knows him well enough to read his moods, so, strangely, Kerry seems to be having fun as well. Probably because he’s in his natural habitat — bottoming. Not to mention that the sight is way too sweet for V to stop his merciless assault.
Unable to resist the temptation to tease him further, V snickers, speaking in a taunting, borderline cooing voice, the one he absolutely loves using to ruffle Kerry’s feathers, “Caught myself a ticklish input, didn’t I? Wonder what should I do with him~”
Kerry snarls and hisses, trying to hold back his giggles at least for a while, but soon enough realises that it’s no use — the merc’s hands are cold as hell, fingers digging into his sides and now also stomach, making him writhe and squirm like a fish out of water, hearty laughter pouring out of him nonstop, yet he’s still trying to speak:
“Shuhuhut it!! You diIICK!! Ahaha!! Stahahp it already!! It fuckin’ tickles!!”
“That’s strange, considerin’ I’m ticklin’ ya.” He chuckles at his own retort, voice oozing with sarcasm and filled with obvious pride at having managed to reduce his poor man to such a state. Any attempts of getting away are prosecuted by extra tickles, making Kerry roll onto his side and curl up into a ball — the last potential resort to get away from the impending torture. The dopey grin on his face is gradually getting wider, making him look even more ridiculous, and by extension adorable in V’s eyes, he can’t get enough of it.
To his surprise, one of Kerry’s hands manages to weasel itself towards his side, now actively clawing and squeezing it with all his strength, clearly trying to get him back for the atrocious acts, but unfortunately for him, the badass, stolid merc seems to be barely ticklish. He does let out a couple of chuckles, twitching here and there, but that’s about it, and judging by the way he squints his eyes, after that little stunt Kerry’s done for it. V’s hands slide up, now mercilessly drilling his fingertips into his input’s ribs, knowing well enough that he absolutely can’t take it at that spot, though he’s being careful not to hurt or bruise his giggly man.
“GAHAHA NO!!” Kerry’s laughter is getting hoarser by the seconds, and he throws his head back, the corners of his eyes watering from so much guffawing, he’s a mess — dishevelled hair, sweaty forehead, signature tank top rumpled like never before, and ready to sign over his villa to V just so he’d stop, so it’s time to bring out the big guns, “V!! STOP! I’M GONNA PISS MYSELF!!”
The merc chortles, amused to no extent, not pausing his attack for a millisecond, “No yer not. Not on yer fancy blankies anyway~”
“I MEAN IT! YOU SEEN HOW MANY MARTINIS I HAD?! I’M GONNA BURST!” This remark actually gets V’s attention. At the end of the day, if it’s not a joke, and the accident does happen, Kerry’s going to have his head, rightfully so. And that’s when all of a sudden in his cackling spree Kerry lets out a loud sound, which can be described as a mix of snoring and choking.
Both of them pause, looking at each other in confusion at first, as it takes them some time to process what it was, even for Kerry, since he was too busy laughing to watch his own reactions. For V it’s particularly concerning since he’s worried that he might have accidentally hurt his man or made him laugh so much that he’s now actually having trouble breathing, but soon enough the realisation hits him — it was a snort. And when that realisation settles, the merc barks out a laugh of his own, his shoulders trembling as he leans over, shaking his head at the hilarity of it all, while Kerry flushes even more than before, the silly grin stays on his face as he can’t help enjoying himself, even despite the lingering embarrassment. V’s hands start slowly sliding off him.
“‘Iright, Ker, here ya go, ya pisshead, free as a-…” The moment V relaxes enough to let his guard down, Kerry pounces, pulling him down onto his stomach, now straddling his hips, despite still panting from all the tickling and squirming. He knows V’s stronger than him, not only naturally, but also thanks to a shitload of implants, including the famous strength enhancers, so he wastes no time. Both of his hands slide under his input’s arms, aiming to get his armpits — since V’s hardly ever ticklish, he has to go all out to get his revenge. Fingers begin scribbling against the tender skin, and Kerry lets out a joyous “Ha!”, already gloating like a little kid.
“That’s what ya get!! Who’s ticklish now, huh?! Tickle-tickle-tickle, V! Not so fun being on the receiving end, is it?!” Yet the moment he leans down to gauge his man’s reaction, his smile falters a smidge, the damn merc seems to be almost immune to his ministrations. Sure, he’s smiling, body shaking with silent giggles, but it seems like Kerry could be as well massaging or scratching his back, the reaction would’ve been the same, and he can’t help feeling just a tad bit frustrated over inability to get his well-deserved vendetta. There’s even a barely noticeable pout on his face, and he doubles down on his efforts, now fully digging his fingers into the skin, but once again — barely any reaction. By the looks of it, V’s cracking up at his failed attempts instead of the tickling itself, so in a spur of the moment Kerry lets out a displeased groan, turns around, and starts smacking V’s ass again and again, not that hard, more like playing bongo with too much enthusiasm.
“Of course you’re not ticklish, probably got some implant shoved up your ass for that too ya ‘borg!! Or what, you’re too “tough” for us mere mortals, hm? A broodin’ fuckin’ street Batman — no weaknesses, no anything, so very alpha!!”
To punctuate his words he pokes V right in the butt through his pants, and the man gasps in surprise, clearly not having expected that kind of retribution. He laughs though, and, propping himself on his hands, pushes himself up, making a very much startled Kerry slide off and flop down onto the bed with a look of surprise — his beast of an input has just easily committed a push-up with the extra weight of an entire man on top of him. Kerry can’t help feeling a slight flutter in his chest at that. But it evaporates as quickly as it appeared once V sits up, now looming over him, and Kerry instantly starts backing off before even realising it.
“C’mon, V, enough already, I’m dying here. Have some mercy, would ya? Y’know I love our tussles, but at this point I might as well cough my lungs out from laughin’ so much.”
A moment later Kerry’s on his back, once again pressed against the bedsheets by his beloved tough boy, and he’s about to glare at him, not appreciating having his requests ignored, yet a soft, lingering kiss stops him from grumbling. V’s lips are a little dry due to all the drinking and action, but they feel so warm and inviting, Kerry can’t help reciprocating, and at some point their teeth lightly clink against each other as they’re both smiling, unable to hold themselves back. They’re panting, but it’s all gradually coming down to a peaceful, relaxed moment, the bond they share making V melt on top of Kerry, though he still has to distribute his weight not to crush his diva. It feels like several weighted blankets have been stacked on the rockerboy, but he doesn’t mind, in fact, he’s all up for it, and his arms wrap around the bigger man, scratching his back and caressing the edges of his cyberware.
The shared warmth brings a smile to V’s face once again, and he can’t help himself — leaning down, he begins thoroughly planting light, tender kisses on Kerry’s face, mainly targeting his cheeks and lips. God he’s absolutely smitten with Kerry’s cheeks. The most adorable set of kissable, freckled treasures. If tonight they’re being cheesy, might as well go all out.
These little pecks continue one after another, now also targeting the tip of Kerry’s nose, taking a break to give it a careful nip, the process of spoiling a certain rockerboy and showering him with affection is going at full force. At first, Kerry’s smiling, relishing in the rare moment of tenderness, but god knows he’s not used to that at all, so soon enough he starts turning his head from one side to another, trying to avoid the barrage of love shamelessly attacking his face. All while he can’t get the smile off his face no matter how much he tries.
“Hey now, I asked you for mercy!! What’s up with you today, hm? Mistook me for a body pillow or somethin’?”
V chuckles at that, planting a softer kiss on his temple, the besotted look on his face says it all — the man is way too in love right now to actually care about a thing except his cherished babygirl.
“Nah-nah, you asked for mercy from the tickles. So no tickles for ye. Maybe. There was nothin’ ‘bout kisses an’ such. So suck it up, Eurodyne,” his words are laced with affectionate teasing, and of course it’s all in jest, yet the kisses continue, and he keeps his input pinned down underneath him, eyes glimmering with somewhat childish giddiness. He sporadically switches spots like suddenly veering from pecking Kerry’s chin to nipping his cheek, despite all the squirming and feigned complaining. His kisses become more sluggish, as if he’s either getting sleepy or way too lazy to put in a smidge of effort, and that’s when the relentlessly smothered rockerboy realises — V’s now doing it all just to annoy him further, and the thought alone is enough to make him grin. He stoically takes such unbearable torment for a few more minutes before slipping one of his arms out and covering V’s mouth with his hand, lightly pushing his head away.
“Alright, Night City legend, you’ve had your fun. Now shoo. I need some space,” the statement alone is so surprising that merc’s eyes widen, and he shakes the hand off, not bothering to hide a mix of curiosity and confusion on his face.
“Some space? You sure about that?”
Kerry lets out a little “tsk” sound and even rolls his eyes halfway through, not like he acts that way often, but his input’s perception is spot on, and the mere fact that V knows him that well makes him feel things. Mostly irritation, but other stuff too.
“Shit. I need a break from all the kissing action, got it? You can… eh… stay where you are. But yeah, gimme a breather, would ya? I’m overstimulated as fuck. Thanks to all that tickling by the way, mostly at least. Oh and I am gettin’ you back for it. ‘Cause you gotta be ticklish somewhere, I just know it. Gonk ass merc.”
The tirade only serves to amuse V further, and he clumsily sits up, rolling his shoulders just to get rid of some leftover stiffness. The alcohol seems to have worn off for now, and he blinks a few times, as if seeing the world in new colours. When his eyes meet Kerry’s he snickers, voice laced with disbelief once he speaks up.
“Why are you so eager to get me back?”
“‘Cause that would be fair. Oh and so I can get you fucking squealing that’s why, you smug ass bastard. You deserve getting taken down a peg, and I’m gonna deliver, pretty boy. You’re getting tickled.”
V actually splutters with laughter at that as Kerry looks so determined and confident that it only adds up to the ridiculousness of it all, like he’s on some dire conquest against him. It’s actually hard to say whether he’s joking or being one hundred percent serious due to a mix of petulance and stubbornness on his face, so V chooses to take it in jest and opens his mouth to say something, but that’s when he hears Nibbles’s claws pitter-pattering across the floor, and freezes for a moment.
“Oh shit,” he hastily stands up, awkwardly fixing his clothes while noticing Kerry’s confused look, “you knocked over an empty whiskey bottle while running, better clean it up before Nibbles steps on it and hurts herself. Or you do, for that matter.”
The last comment actually brings a fond smile to Kerry’s face, the care in V’s voice is palpable and appreciated, plus he’s kind of glad that he’s not going to be the one to deal with the mess. Before he leaves, V leans down, planting a soft kiss on top of Kerry’s head — just the right spot not to overstimulate further and to show affection.
“And for the record, yeah, I am ticklish, but squealing? No fuckin’ way. That’s your department~”
“Eat shit.”
“Love ya too, Ker~”
V grins, giving his man one teasing look for the road, and turns around — clothes all wrinkly, hair sticking out here and there, and a fine ass gracefully moving with each step, making Kerry keep his eyes open for a few seconds longer. He’s suddenly left alone with all the pent up fatigue, and before he knows it, his mind already drifts off, the trademark snoring filling the villa.
Set about halfway through Carl's Doomsday Scenario
Summary: Carl finds a magic item while looting after a battle. Unfortunately for him, it auto equipped and cannot be removed until the timer runs down. Needless to say, he's not enthused about what it does
⚠️⛔️ WARNING!!!!⛔️⚠️ This is a tickle fanfiction. No likey no readie. Thank you 💙
Bonus points if you read the warning in the audiobook's System AI voice, lmao
Carl huffed, staggering to keep his footing as the last mob collapsed to the ground.
The smell of burned flesh and poison stung in his nose as he looked around, making sure they hadn't missed any stragglers. Donut growled as she did the same, surveying from Carl's shoulder.
The third floor continued to test their limits, the clock to level collapse ticking down faster than the days had felt.
Each day was riddled with unseen obstacles or unplanned battles to get dragged into. This was good for their levels and audience, but not great for their sanity.
The group had been walking between settlements, sent to the next one over for better supplies, when they had been ambushed. A swarm of small goblin creatures charged out of the brush, surrounding them quickly. While individually they wouldn’t have been much of a threat, the pack of 100 of them were.
Sensing the danger was gone, Donut hopped down, the cat trotting to Mongo and rubbing up against him.
"Good boy, Mongo! Mommy is so proud of you!" She fussed, cooing at the dinosaur lovingly. He clicked his beak, waving his little arms happily at the praise.
He was getting big, already about waist height on Carl. Donut had to crane her neck to look up at him. It wouldn't be long before she'd have to hop up onto his back to call commands.
Mongo cheerfully began to dig into the corpses, Donut yelping as she hurried to loot the bodies as fast as she could while he ate. It was a grotesque scene, but Carl couldn't help but chuckle at the pair.
Carl gazed at the carnage, evaluating. They only had a few hours until the sun would start to go down. If they wanted to get to the safe room before then, they'd have to hurry.
"Hey," he called over to them, watching as Mongo swallowed an arm whole before looking to him.
"We should split up, cover more ground before the janitor mobs show up. Will you and Mongo be okay on your own for a bit?"
Donut made a face, clearly about to protest.
"It won't be for long. I'll be right over there, and if you need me I'll be in earshot." He said, walking over and leaning down to scratch behind her ears. She sighed, nodding.
"Very well, but don't go wandering off." She said. Carl couldn't get his reassurance out before Donut bounded away, scolding Mongo for eating the bodies faster than she can search them.
Carl sighed, making his way to the far side of the circle of fallen mobs.
Usually, if a large group of low level mobs attacked, most of them wouldn't have anything good on them. A few things here and there, but nothing special. Though, not knowing when you might need something mundane, it was always good to pick up what you can anyways.
Carl was maybe thirty or so goblin-things into his search before he saw it. A glowing ring around the gnarled finger of a fallen mob.
The band was golden, inlaid with three equally spaced, small stones. Each stone was a different color; red, pink, and purple, with silver filigree surrounding each one. It was surrounded by a faintly lavender halo, a strange contrast against the green skin of the creature.
Kneeling, he tried to inspect it, frowning when a message popped up onto the screen in front of him.
ITEM DESCRIPTION LOCKED! TO UNLOCK THIS ITEM DESCRIPTION, ADD THE ITEM TO YOUR INVENTORY.
Carl hummed, he'd never seen this before. Sitting on the ground next to the mob, he opened his chat screen.
Carl: Hey, Mordecai, do you know anything about items you can't inspect without touching?
Mordecai: Yes and no. Can you be more specific?
Carl: Its a ring with three gemstones in the band, purple glow.
Mordecai: Its definitely a magic item, but not one I've seen before, sorry.
Carl sighed, rolling his eyes.
Carl: I gathered that much. Should I pick it up?
Mordecai didn’t reply for a moment, long enough to be concerning.
Mordecai: If it doesn't seem immediately dangerous, I'd say it's probably alright. Keep a healing potion ready just in case.
Carl: Will do. Thanks.
Carl leaned side to side, trying to get a good look at the ring for anything obvious. Putting his hand up to it, it wasn't warm or cold enough to feel it in the air, it didn't feel dangerous viscerally either.
Should I tell Donut first? He thought.
How much damage can one ring do?
Wait, shit. Lord of the Rings. We have a whole epic about what one ring can do.
Carl: Hey, found something over here.
Carl typed, decidedly.
Donut: WHAT IS IT? IS IT DANGEROUS? IS IT SPARKLY?
Carl: Sparkly, kind of. Not sure yet if it’s dangerous. I can't examine it unless I add it to my inventory.
Donut: WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?
Carl rolled his eyes.
Carl: What if it's dangerous or bad or something?
Donut: WHAT IF ITS REALLY GOOD AND NOT TAKING IT MEANS LIFE OR DEATH
He paused. She had a point.
Carl: Okay, hang on. Listen for screaming just in case.
He rolled his shoulders, hopping up to crouch next to the ring. He added a healing potion to his hot bar, mentally hovering over it as he carefully slipped the ring off of the goblins finger.
The ring came off easily.
Then it forcefully ripped itself from his grasp and slid onto the middle finger of his right hand.
Gasping in surprise, Carl stood, trying to pry it off. The ring didn't budge, staying at the base of his finger as if glued there. He shook his hand, trying with his teeth to pull it off, twisting it and growling in frustration as it spun freely but wouldn't move upwards.
NEW ACHIEVEMENT!!!: MOUSE TRAP!
You stuck your hand somewhere it didn't belong, or took something that wasn't yours. Now you're stuck with it!
Either way, enjoy the instant karma, you nosey piece of shit.
REWARD… You probably won't do that ever again, and hard-earned lessons are the best reward of them all!
Carl scoffed, continuing to pry until his fingers ached. The ring shined bright against his skin tone, almost mockingly unbothered by his attempts. At least it hadn't killed him yet.
Sighing, Carl examined it.
Hovering over the ring, which had made itself at home in the equipped gear section of his inventory, he read the name of the item.
Carl: Good news is, I'm not dead. Bad news is, it self-equipped to me and I can't get it off. Something called "The Enchanted Ring of Hubris, The Wizard."
There was a long pause, long enough to be unsettling.
Mordecai: I've heard the name, but not the item. What does the description say?
Clicking into it, the description sprawled open for him to read.
The Enchanted Ring of Hubris, The Wizard:
This item was created by the one and only Hubris, a wizard of world renown. Not for his wisdom or skill, but for his constant fuck ups and mishaps. In an attempt to keep himself out of harms way, though he probably deserved it, he conjured a ring to give the wearer divine immunity from all forms of damage...
Carls eyes went wide, messaging Mordecai as he read. Such a thing existed? He was surprised this was allowed, considering the universes blatant adoration for bloodsport.
... Unfortunately for him, he fucked up. Yet again. Whoopty-fucking-doo. Who would have guessed?
Carls face fell. Of course.
Upon equipping this item, it cannot be removed for 24 hours. This item has a pacifying effect on any mob within 15 feet of the wearer. That's right, their anger and bloodlust will dissipate, only to be replaced by enthralling, playful, mischievous urges! All attacks against you will be made with intent to tickle.
His blood ran cold. What the hell...?
I hope you're not ticklish, crawler! Once those mobs get their hands on you, who knows if they'll ever let go!
The voice of the AI was laced with a grin, as if punctuating the description with wiggling fingers. Carl cleared his throat, slowly looking to the chat screen.
Mordecai: Well... At least it's not dangerous?
Carl closed the screen with as much animosity as he could. His heart pounded in his throat while he fought the urge to wrap his arms around his middle.
Suddenly he felt much more exposed than he already had, still in nothing but a shirt, vest, and boxers.
He shook his head. That was stupid. He was more afraid of this than he was of pain?
Carl yelped as a new achievement popped up, his face immediately flushing red.
NEW ACHIEVEMENT!!!: Monkey Paw!
You have received an item that has both a positive and a negative effect! You lucky bastard, you!
REWARD… You can take solice in the fact I can't point and laugh at you. Oh wait! I can!
Carls lips tightened into a line as he clicked the achievement away, suffering the AI's amused cackling. Checking the timer, he had about 23 hours and 45 minutes left to go with this stupid ring on.
If they booked it to the settlement, maybe they could avoid running into anything on the way.
Donut: CARL I HEARD A SCREAM. WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU ALIVE?
Carl sighed, relieved she had been listening.
Carl: Yeah, I'm good. Sorry.
If she found out about this, he wouldn't hear the end of it. He supposed it could be an advantage though, going into a fight as a distraction while she attacks-
No!
Absolutely not.
Millions of people across the universe were watching. Billions. Trillions. He wouldn't let them see him like that.
Carl shuddered thinking about it, anxiety slicing his soul in two at the possibility of getting pulled for an interview afterwards. Asked to explain the reasoning behind the tactic...
Fuck no.
He remembered when Bea had learned about his sensitivity, cooing at his reactions as he flailed and fought to keep from kicking her to the floor.
She had just gotten her nails done, showing them off with gentle scratches up his back when one of the points grazed a little too far to the side.
Carl had laughed himself hoarse that night, begging and pleading with her while she justified that she was "just getting him back".
In hindsight he supposed it was fair, he would often tickle the snot out of her to get her to loosen up a little. Bea always had a controlled, measured laugh, so it was nice to hear her fall apart with snorting giggles.
Carl could feel his ears burning as he thought about it. Those sharp nails fluttering over his skin, sending lightning through his nerves. Wringing laughter from him with every drag, scribble, squeeze, and poke.
He did wrap his arms around himself then, unable to suppress the phantom tingling.
This could be a big problem.
Carl: I need to tell you something and I need you to not laugh at me, can you do that?
Donut: I MEAN, IF ITS FUNNY I CAN'T PROMISE ANYTHING.
Carl sighed, psyching himself up.
Carl: The item I found was an enchanted ring. I can't take it off, so you need to know what it does. I might need your help if we run into anything else
Donut was still laughing by the time Carl got to her and Mongo.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up." He said, crossing his arms. She rolled around on her back, paws pressed to her eyes. He could feel his face warming up again with embarrassment.
Gasping, she rolled to her side, staring up at him with gleeful eyes.
"You're telling me," she said, mockingly. "That little piece of costume jewelry is going to bewitch our enemies into tickle torturing you?"
She broke into another peel of laughter as Carl's blush deepened. He looked away, clenching his fists to quell some of the nervous energy.
"Ranged attacks outside of the radius should still be dangerous. I have no idea if it's limited to regular mobs or if it extends to bosses too." He said, almost inaudible over her mirth.
Donut calmed, clearing her throat.
"Well, we don't have much choice but to account for it." She said, standing and stretching.
She noticed his expression, face falling. Clearing her throat, she added “If you get pinned, Mongo and I will handle it. We have your back."
The dinosaur screeched as if agreeing.
That was comforting to hear. At least they wouldn't let him laugh to death or leave him to suffer.
He shivered, shaking the thought away.
They finished their looting quickly, getting back on the road. Donut insisted on leading the way as Carl was "compromised", Mongo taking up the rear. Carl walked between the two, hoping this display wouldn't lose too many viewers. For Donut's sake.
Carl jumped.
He heard something...
Mongo, though usually a reliable proximity alarm, didn't react. Carl began sweeping their surroundings, checking the map as well, and was stupefied when he didn't see anything directly around them.
He heard it again.
Whipping his head towards the sound, Donut was marching on calmly. He watched her for a moment, catching her frame rattle as the sound reached his ears.
She was stifling laughter.
With that odd timing between huffs though...
Oh no.
It wasn't long until a message popped up on his HUD.
Zev: Carl, Donut instructed me to tell you she did not inform me of the ring situation. I watched it happen on my own and reached out to her first.
Carl: Well, tell Donut I could hear her snickering and I'm *very* glad she finds my "ring situation" amusing.
Zev: I understand your concern, but sarcastic remarks are unnecessary. Look at it this way, you can’t get hurt at all right now! You could go on a murder-hobo spree and you would walk away without a scratch!
Carl scowled, shoving the idea out of his mind.
Donut: I'M SURE THE SYSTEM AI WOULD LOVE IT TOO. ARE YOUR FEET STILL SENSITIVE AFTER ALL THOSE BUFFS IT GAVE YOU?
Carl glared at Donut as she looked over her shoulder, shit eating grin plastered onto her feline face. He resisted the urge to remind her which finger the ring was on.
Carl: This better not come up in any interviews.
Zev: It probably won't, so long as nothing too interesting happens. While the system AI will explain to viewers what it is, ticklishness is pretty unique to only a handful of human-seeded worlds. Not everyone evolved with it, so only a handful will understand it on the same level as you.
Carl: Meaning...?
Zev: Likely, anyone you interview with will write it off as an eccentricity of this world. Novelty doesn't sell as well as you think it does. If it's not violent, flashy, or odd, it won't get much screentime.
Donut: SEE? NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT.
Carl looked up to see Donut shooting him another look. This time, a genuine, comforting one. He nodded in return.
Zev: All of us here know of the phenomenon from Earth media, so it's not very enticing for us either. While I'll admit, watching your expressions is entertaining, I'm looking at your viewer count right now and it hasn't moved much. Most of the comments right now are about the fight, not the ring.
Carl nodded, taking a breath. While he wasn't completely out of the woods yet, that was a bit of a relief. Donut and Zev kept chatting for awhile before Zev had to log off, giving Carl time to calm himself.
As they walked, he kept checking the timer, almost trying to will it to move faster.
22 hours, 58 minutes.
22 hours, 43 minutes.
22 hours, 31 minutes.
22 hours, 28 minutes.
Damn it all.
After an hour and some change, the trio crested a hill, spotting the settlement up ahead. Easily a little more than a mile away, they would reach the safe room just in time. The sky had begun to turn different shades of yellow and orange as the sun began to set.
All they had to do was cut through a patch of woods.
Dense, dark looking woods.
Carl paused, making Mongo chitter impatiently as he went around him. Donut looked back at him, confused.
He looked from her, to the waning light, then to the woods. They wouldn't have time to go around, and even if they did, going off the trail was more dangerous than staying on.
He swallowed, feeling tingly anticipation start to stir in his stomach again.
"Oh, come on. Don't be a baby." Donut said, teasing in a lighthearted tone. She moved to him, rubbing up against his leg and purring before clambering to his shoulder.
"I'll be right here, nothing is going to get you." She headbutted his cheek, snuggling in close and continuing to purr soothingly like she would when they went to sleep. She commanded Mongo to take the lead, nodding Carl forward when the dinosaur began to move.
Carl, remembering how his legs worked, scurried after him. He had handled explosives, killed goblins, clowns, and lemurs, and has escaped certain death on a daily basis.
The ring he hid in his tightly crossed arms still made his knees shake as he walked.
Donut's warmth kept him grounded as they broke the tree line. Scattered, dimming sunlight and fireflies lit the spaces between shadows, though Donut still used her Torch spell. Mongo would pause to sniff the air, occasionally checking for danger. The woods was quiet save for the rustling of the trees and the calls of birds.
Objects began to appear on the sides of the trail.
They started small. Ratty shoes, a rusted sword, forgotten items slowly graduating to bicycle tires and old, broken appliances.
Carl's stomach sank, he knew what was happening before they even saw it.
Ahead, the objects began to clutter closer together. The junk was arranged into a funnel that opened up into a circle of abandoned household items and cars. The structure was piled high into walls that barely kissed the canopy.
In the middle, a person sat cross-legged, facing away from the entryway.
Donut felt Carl stiffen, freezing as he stared at the arena. Red crept across his face, arms tightening around his middle, and he bit his lip hard. Mongo turned back just before the entryway, tilting his head.
"Carl, it's the only way through." Donut said matter-of-factly.
Carl didn't move.
She nudged him, pointing with one paw. "Listen, I doubt you'll let me go in alone with Mongo, so you'll have to suck it up and get in there."
A message popped up.
Zev: Viewers are confused why you aren't going in. Any more stalling and they might figure out why, and that's a guarantee that people will take it and run with it. I'm sorry, but the easiest way is to get it over with.
God damn it.
Heartbeat pounding in his throat, Carl began to walk with a similar gait to a death row inmate on execution day. He heard Donut wheeze.
"So melodramatic! You'll be fine." She teased, jumping down to join the dinosaur and waving him over.
"Whatever happens, relax and try to stay near me.”
Before Donut could step in, Carl spoke.
“Take these, you’ll need them more than I will.” He said, opening his inventory.
He handed off anything that could heal, save for one healing potion. She took the potions and scrolls gratefully, Carl adding his remaining potion to his hot bar.
Just in case.
All together, they stepped in.
Oddly, the system AI didn’t announce the battle. Looking around, the arena was fairly empty aside from the person in the middle. Large holes in the arena walls were scattered throughout, seemingly chewed through the piles.
“Hey!” Carl called to the figure, watching closely. He hadn’t reacted when they came in, still seated cross-legged on the ground.
It was small, but it looked like he tilted his head in their direction. More of a twitch than an intentional movement.
Carl stepped forward, anxiety making way for confusion.
He immediately stepped into something sticky. Making a face, he peeled his foot off the ground.
The persons shoulder cranked upwards quickly, leaving him sitting in an unnatural posture. His head lolled to the side, hanging awkwardly.
“Uh… you alright, bud?” Carl called again, wincing as he stepped in another sticky patch. He looked to Donut, who hopped along the wall. She waved a paw encouragingly.
Oh, right. He was meant to be a distraction.
“Are you… alive?” He tried again, peeling his foot from the floor again. This time, something came with it.
Balancing, he looked at his sole before peeling off a sheet of what looked like tangled up, translucent thread. Each strand was as thick as a fishing line.
What the hell?
The person jolted as if yanked by puppet strings, violently raised to hover a couple inches off the ground. His limbs were twisted at odd angles, joints and bones clearly broken. He swayed in the breeze, beginning to turn.
As sunlight glinted faintly off of the strings, the man spun until his torso was on full display. Two deep, circular punctures pierced through the man’s shirt and into his belly.
The holes were blackened, a brownish-red sludge oozing from the edges of the wounds. His face was sunken in as if all of the blood and moisture had been drained from his body.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
Carl stepped back in shock, landing in another patch of webbing. It was deeper than the others, wrapping his foot and ankle completely in a thick, tangled sheet.
The corpse was quickly towed upwards. Carl followed it with his eyes, swallowing fear as it traveled into the grasp of a massive black spider.
The spider was nearly twelve feet long from leg tip to leg tip. Its abdomen was the size of a Volkswagen Beetle and twice as bulbous. Light glinted off of its shiny carapace as it dragged the corpse into its clutches and swiftly wrapped it in webbing.
It placed the bundle to the side, dangling in its web. The spider slowly turned to lock its eyes on Carl.
B-B-B-BOSS BATTLE!!!
There he fucking goes.
As usual, the AI hammed up the announcement, giving them a nice view of their mugshots and a not so nice closeup of the spider on the VS screen. Music blared and lights flashed around them as they were trapped in place, in slow motion.
Years ago, this grove was peaceful and pristine. As people began illegally dumping their unwanted possessions, they began to attract some unwanted pests. The practice only stopped once the Giant, Man-eating Widow (lovingly named “Big Bertha” by local environmentalists, most of which she ate) moved in. Now anyone who dares to enter her domain becomes her lunch. Are you crawlers ready for this creepy?
Here… we… go!
Once allowed to move, Carl dropped to try and free his leg. He clawed at the webs, only managing to scrape off a handful and accidentally sticking his fingers together. An ear splitting shriek sounded from above, followed by the rustling of something very big moving very fast.
Carl braved a look up.
Big Bertha barreled right for him.
Death from above, she dropped, streaming from freshly spun silk with her front legs outstretched. Her mandibles chattered, fangs grinding together with hunger. Her eight massive eyes were soulless and black, a mirror to show her prey what she saw as she devoured them.
Carl screamed, collapsing in a heap when he tried to run. She landed above him with a crash, spear-like legs spiking into the ground around him as her face came within inches of his body. She reeked of rot, her frenzied breath washing over him as her unblinking eyes sized up her meal.
She quieted, pausing. Carl held his breath as she raised slightly, fangs tucking back. Big Bertha’s mandibles fidgeted thoughtfully.
“Carl! Are you alright?!” Donut cried. Carl couldn’t see her, but she sounded close by.
Slowly, he raised a hand from under the spider, giving a thumbs up. Too shaken up to speak, it was all he could muster.
“Okay! I don’t know what’s going on, but keep her distracted. I hear backup incoming!”
He never once took his eyes off of Big Bertha, unnerved by the hesitation. Not wanting to startle her, he kept the hand up in the air, though the thumbs up relaxed.
He didn’t notice as a set of her lower legs began to move upwards, slowly reaching for him.
Carl shrieked as the pinchers of the legs grabbed him by his shirt, swiftly pulling him down. As his hands raised, both from surprise and the drag, she pinned them at the sides of his head with two upper legs before gathering some webbing. She firmly pressed it over his wrists and into the ground.
It was still warm. Carl gagged.
He froze, watching as Bertha began to back up until her mouth hovered over his torso. Panic coursed through him, breath quickening.
“Donut!” Carl yelled, pulling at his wrists and scraping his heals.
“Donut, the ring didn’t work! She’s going to eat me!”
Was this it?
Was this really how he was going to die?
One botched magic ring was all it took?
“Hang on! I’m coming!” Donut called back from somewhere behind him, the sounds of a fight overwhelming her voice.
The spider reeled back, stretching her mandibles and fangs. A hiss rumbled through her, front legs rearing up.
He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth.
Carl braced as he felt her lunge, a scream ripping through him as she made contact.
But no pain came.
His scream broke into shrill, surprised giggles as her mandibles dug into his sides.
Relief washed through him, the feeling immediately overwhelmed by giddy panic. He threw his knees against the underside of the arachnid, pulling at his wrists again. Heat rose to his cheeks when the polished sides of her fangs dug into the soft flesh of his belly, kneading gently to coax laughter from him.
Carls laugh was a happy thing. The pitch would fluctuate wildly, laced with hiccups and gasps, the joyful sound garnished by a silly smile.
He threw his head side to side, bright laughter stealing his breath. A wide grin dominated his features as he thrashed, ears burning red. Carl knew he had to be blushing from his hairline to his chest, feeling silly and exposed.
It’s like the game knew he’d think he was a goner and waited for him to cry for help.
It probably did.
Big Bertha nuzzled into Carl’s torso, scribbling over his ribs wherever her mandibles could reach. He lurched as she grazed over a spot a few inches below his armpits, letting out a mournful whine when she paused her exploration and crept back to it.
“No! No, hey, I just have bruises there. You can’t hurt me, remember? It’s a bruise! Leave it alone!”
She couldn’t understand him.
Carl threw his head back as she massaged circles into the spot, wheezing until all the air left his lungs. Gasping, frantic laughter tore from him, shaking his frame.
She didn’t let up.
While he writhed, beginning to beg between gasps, the spider gathered his hands. She pressed the bindings together in the middle, weaving a rope between them and sticking the loose end to the floor. Ripping the boot of webbing from his foot, she wrapped the dense sheet around both ankles and tied another rope between them, but leaving the end in one of her pincers at the ends of her skinny legs
Carl giggled, loopy, barely registering she had stopped. She climbed up into her web, towing the line attached to his ankles after her.
“Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, words slurring slightly. It had been ages since his brain was flooded with this strong of an endorphin cocktail.
His legs rose into the air, followed by his butt, then torso, pulling him taut as his arms extended straight down to the ground. The stretch wasn’t painful, but his movement was very restricted.
From this position, though upside down, Carl could see Donut and Mongo across the arena from him. They were fighting a group of rats, all the size of large dogs. The rats seemed to be afraid of Bertha, keeping them away from her and her new toy. Donut and Mongo seemed to be holding their own.
Big Bertha lowered into view a few feet in front of Carl, spindly legs moving almost leisurely. Carl pulled at his limbs, not even getting an inch to move. The attempt caused him to bounce a little in the webbing, making her scramble towards him with frightening speed, predatory instinct still strong under the spell.
He yelped, flinching in his restraints again, mentally cursing himself. She shot out with fearsome arms, threatening to lock onto him to hold him still.
Even with her terrifying features, Carl fought to suppress the playful energy in his chest.
She paused, as if daring him to do it again. Unable to help himself, an anticipatory smile pulled at his lips. She darted again, scrambling closer. Carl jolted, the scare enough to make him giggle wildly. Again, she lurched, moving as if to bite him. He squealed, squeezing his eyes shut again and pressing his cheek into his bicep.
“That won’t work on me again!” He said, a machine-gun-like laugh breaking through the words. “You can’t trick me twice! Just do it you dick!”
Four legs latched on, their sets of pincers finding his torso, obligingly.
Carl guffawed, thrashing in his bonds. All that achieved was more bouncing, the movement shaking him and making him a more annoying target. Swiftly, Big Bertha moved out of sight before coming up behind him and pressing her underside flat against his back. He didn’t have time to react before the pincers found him again, this time two legs crossing over his waist to press him into her carapace, completely preventing him from squirming.
“Not fair! Not fair! Not fair!” He cried, trying to pry himself out of her grasp.
As his inability to escape set in, the sensations seeped into his bones. Belly laughter poured from him freely as the pincers explored, pinching up and down his ribs, circling in his hips and underarms, skittering over his collarbones, chest, stomach, and sides. He let his head hang, only tensing up to shake in protest or to press back into the spider.
Unfortunately, his shaking enticed her.
Warm breath on the back of his neck alerted him to her lowering, silently lining up with his nape.
The mandibles returned, clutching around his neck to hold his head still. He froze, willing his body to stop struggling as laughter continued to pour from him.
Each of her fangs raised, extending over his shoulders and hooking down, locking him in like the shoulder restraints of a roller coaster. The points of her fangs just barely grazed his upper ribs, dragging back and forth intentionally. The mandibles began to trace around his neck, his jaw, and the shells of his ears, tickling with a feather light touch to contrast the rapid scribbling of her legs.
Any shred of dignity he had left in that moment did the sensible thing and died.
Carl went limp, surrendering to the overwhelming feeling. His strength was shot, pathetic squirming taking the place of his attempts to escape.
The careful touches around his neck raised goosebumps along his back, making him scrunch up his face in ticklish agony. He resisted the urge to scrunch his shoulders too, knowing the fangs would likely keep them from moving and end up provoking her again.
He trembled as he struggled to stay still. He switched between loud, deep, happy mirth and shrill giggling as the spider hopped from spot to spot.
When his stomach would shake as he laughed, pincers darted in to vibrate into the sensitive flesh, forcing it all out. When the laughter jumped to his chest, she would flutter over his ears and under his chin, pulling the frantic sounds from him as if they were on a thread of her webbing. She did all this deftly, as if tickling her prey was natural and well practiced.
Suddenly, he felt movement towards his legs.
“No! Not there!” He screeched.
“Anywhere but there!”
Carl tried to protest. Tried to kick. Tried to beg.
The spider dug into that spot in his ribcage again, subduing him. His panic rose, unable get more than one syllable out at a time as he felt her back legs creeping towards his feet.
Unable to contain himself, he tried to shake his head. The mandibles grasped the sides of his face, hooking under his jaw, holding him in place and zoning in on the pressure point hidden on the inside crest of the jaw bone, making him bark out a high pitched laugh. By the time the pincers dragged across his soles, tears had begun to streak down, flowing past his temples and dripping to the floor.
Big Bertha scratched at his soles. Her pincers scribbled over his arches, ball, and under his toes, adding the maddening feeling to the barrage of sensations already abusing his nervous system.
Carl, eyes widening with a gasp before slamming them shut, let out a primal scream.
Wild cackling erupted from him, caught somewhere between throaty and shrill, like a goblins laugh. He wheezed and snorted, hiccups punching at the walls of his chest.
Once it started, the avalanche wouldn’t stop.
When Bea had tickled him to pieces that night, so long ago, she uncovered this reaction too. Painfully loud to listen to, too contagious not to, and it never ended. Slowing down or letting up only reduced the volume, this laugh was permanent proof he had been broken.
His “witch cackle”, Bea had called it.
Through his mirth, he heard a snicker from below.
Managing to open his eyes a slit, he glanced towards the ground. Donut sat underneath them, shaking with barely controlled amusement.
Struggling, he tried to cover one foot with the other, switching back and forth as the scratchy legs would switch in response. A frustrated wail broke through, cut off by a squeak as the spider skittered over his ear again.
Donut grinned.
“Your new friend seems to really like you!” Donut said, voice dripping with mischief.
He tried to spit a “fuck you” back, but couldn’t get the words out. Donut giggled as he gave up and flipped her off instead.
“Maybe we should let her play with you for a while. It would teach you a lesson to not be rude to your rescuer.” She chided, giggling when a stream of “no”s exploded from him in pitchy wheezes.
“Hmm… I don’t know…” the cat paced in a circle, side-eyeing the line tethering his wrists to the ground.
“I’m sorry! I-I’m sorry!” Carl cried, barely able to speak. The witch cackle had grown hoarse and breathless.
“Sorry for what?”
“Donut, please!” He begged, pressing his palms together in their cuffs as if praying.
She sighed dramatically, as if asked to do massive chore, before extending a claw and slicing the web.
Arms freed, Carl slammed his arms down to cover himself. Elbows pressing hard into the spiders legs that still held him to her, he attempted to curl up, fighting gravity and her fangs to do so.
There was a sickening rip, then a bloodcurdling scream right behind his head as he was suddenly able to move. Big Bertha scurried up into her web, high over the arena as her fangs dropped to the ground with a thud.
The victory music blasted in Carl’s ears, though he barely registered it as he caught his breath. He let himself hang as the system AI listed the loot boxes they received from the fight, residual giggles escaping tiredly.
NEW ACHIEVEMENT!!!: KNEE-CAPPER!
You have defeated a boss by disabling it rather than killing it! Now it will have to die slowly, either unable to hunt or unable to protect itself. Now, that is fucked up.
REWARD… You can rest easy knowing that as it suffers, it will probably be thinking of you.
Carl glanced towards the fangs, guilt creeping in. She hadn’t so much as left a bruise on him and he had given her a life ending injury.
He felt like an asshole.
“Brace yourself!” Donut called.
Carl whipped his head to the left, seeing Donut had scaled the wall. A magic missile shot from her, destroying the line that strung him to the web above.
He yelped as he dropped, tucking just before he hit. Sitting up, he began to tear away his wrist restraints while Donut sliced at the thick sheets of webbing around his ankles.
As they worked, another achievement popped up.
NEW ACHIEVEMENT!!!: HERE COMES THE TICKLE MONSTER!
The AI said it in a playful tone, making Carl unconsciously wrap his arms around himself again.
You were intentionally tickled by a normally aggressive mob! How cute! Hopefully it wasn’t a terrifying one, that way your nightmares will stay scary instead of filled with mischievous phantom fingers.
REWARD… You have received a first level monster tamer skill!
Carl rolled his eyes, stumbling as he stood. Donut looked up at him, smiling sweetly.
“You need to wear that ring again sometime, that was fun to watch” she said, tail waving teasingly.
He scoffed, moving to leave the arena.
“Yeah, fuck no. Once was enough.”
“Come on, please?” She said, drawing out the end like a begging child.
“No.”
A message notification popped up, making him jump.
Zev: Oh. My. God. Carl, that was adorable!
Carl flushed, crossing his arms and putting on a glare.
Carl: No, it wasn’t. That was torture. And terrifying.
Donut: IT WAS CUTE. YOU’RE OUTVOTED.
Carl: I can’t be outvoted because there was no vote.
Zev: Actually… you kind of are.
Carl froze, frowning. Clicking out of the chat, he saw the viewer count. It was in the trillions.
Fuck.
Zev: When Big Bertha dropped on you and you thought she would eat you, your panicking drew the attention of a lot of viewers.
Carl: God damn it.
Zev: People are absolutely buzzing from the encounter! They’re calling it cute, funny, and specifically calling you and your laugh adorable. <3
Carl groaned, leaning against the arena wall before sliding down to sit, knees to his chest. He thunked his skull against the metal door of an old car.
Zev: I know you’re embarrassed, but this is a good thing! You’re reaching a new audience and getting traffic from all over the place. People have already posted clips, there’s a really good one that I think would be great for promo material!
Carl: Don’t you fucking dare.
Zev: But you have such a great smile! You look very happy. Relaxed, even! I already have a program begging to have you on!
Donut: WHAT PROGRAM?
Zev: It’s a smaller one called “Crawler Crush”. Basically, it’s a show for fans that fawn over their favorite crawlers. They have Crawlers on for interviews, Q&A, games, fan mail, stuff like that. Easy, fluffy television.
Carl shot Donut a glare, shaking his head. She flicked her tail back and forth as she kept eye contact.
Donut: SIGN US UP.
Zev: Wonderful!
Carl: NO! WHAT THE HELL?!
Zev: I agree with Donut, you should wear that ring any chance you get. It can be a good strategic advantage, but your viewers love it too and it could be a fun treat for them.
Carl groaned, rubbing his face. His cheeks still ached from smiling.
Carl: This better not show up in the highlight reel tonight.
Later, after a long and tiring trudge, they entered one of the local pubs of the settlement. Today’s recap episode was just starting, the pub filled with the idle chatter of patrons.
Mordecai spotted them and waved them over to his table, snickering as Carl took his seat. Carl was about to snap at him, but was cut off as the incubus slid a glass of something strong towards him. He huffed, nodding his thanks.
“I’m glad you’re alright.” Mordecai said, tinking the rim of his own glass against Carl’s. He smirked, taking a sip.
“Thanks.”
The recap churned through clip after clip of other crawlers and their battles, each one as brutal as usual. Every time the clip changed, Carl felt a spike of fear that he’d be shown on screen, pinned under a nightmarish beast and losing his shit.
Those bastards saved it for the end.
He froze as he heard himself scream, black screen opening to the horrific image of him pinned underneath a giant spider as he called to Donut that the ring wasn’t working.
They zoomed in on the spiders massive fangs, drool dripping from her open mouth, rearing up to bite-
Then they smash cut to him hanging upside down in her grasp, struggling weakly as ticklish laughter poured from his goofy grin.
Nose scrunched and bright red from his chest to his ears, he gasped, hiccuped, squeaked, and wailed for everyone to see.
Carl sunk down in his chair as eyes fell on him, staring into his glass. He knocked back the rest of his drink, folding his arms on the table and laying his face into them.
The pub erupted in laughter.
“Sorry, kid.” Mordecai said, patting his back.
Carl groaned.
Then jolted up, ramrod straight, as the incubus swiftly dragged a pointed claw up his spine. Mordecai laughed, a snort slipping through as Carl looked around the room to make sure no one saw.
Everyone had turned back to watch the episode, no longer paying them any attention.
“I swear to god, if you do that again I will end you.” Carl growled under his breath.
“No, you won’t. You’d miss me.” Mordecai said with a wink.
Donut hopped into Carls lap, looking up at him curiously.
“What if you got him back instead? Like Miss Beatrice did when you would tickle her all the time?”
Carl chuckled, sending a taunting look to Mordecai. He didn’t seem threatened.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” He said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.
Carl quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Incubi have perks towards anything that could be considered a fetish.” He said, shrugging. The incubus huffed a laugh, a wicked desire crossing his features.
“You could probably get a laugh out of me, but you wouldn’t win in a tickle fight with an entity that knows your nerves just by looking at you.” Mordecai grinned as he fluttered the claws of one hand towards Carl, letting them click together in a rhythmic pattern.
He swallowed, staring at them.
Zev: That could be good for views. If it happens, make sure you’re not in a safe room so it can be watched.
Carl shook his head, thunking his forehead into the table.
This was going to be a long floor.
NEW ACHIEVEMENT!!!: FANFICTION FREAK!
You read a fanfiction for a niche book AND niche subject at the same time!!
REWARD… You are now best friends with the writer! Sorry, that’s the law!
i am violently reminded I am ace when I watch a sitcom and a character is like "i haven't had sex in 3 whole months!!" And it's supposed to be some kind of hardship??
hello happy ace day! I'm still not fully out and every day I appreciate this community, my partner, and my few friends who are so supportive. If you arent out too that's okay, you are so valid and loved <3
