Love Language: Tickle Fights

23 She/Her Multi-Fandom Blog Ace

[quillandtickle]

Masterlist- Ryland Grace

Lee Headcannons

Ler Headcannons

Coming Soon:

Ryland Grace + Beard tickles (Request)

Reading Distraction (Request)

Sleep Deprivation (Request)

Grumpy (Reader) x Sunshine (Grace) (Original)

Always Muscles?

Short term memory loss (original)

Swear Jar (original)

Requests are open!

[m00nylupinss]

ℐ𝓃𝓉𝓇ℴ𝒹𝓊𝒸𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃 💌🕯️☕️

hii my stars ! you can call me moon, this is a tk blog, so if that’s not your thing, please be kind and just scroll !

𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒹ℴ𝓂𝓈 🦌

these are the fandoms im in ! i will most likely do headcanons and fanfics for them, both by request and without 🫶🏽

❥ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

❥ 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 !)

❥ 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐬

❥ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 & 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞

❥ 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬

❥ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

❥ 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰/ 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐬

ℬℴ𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈 ！

this is a sfw blog, so please respect that. please don’t be wierd in my inbox.

dni if: wierdos, nsfw accs, and mean people in general.

𝒪𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 🩰

pronouns - she/her

mbti - infj

hogwarts house - slytherin

lee-leaning switch >//<

don’t be shy to send me asks, I read each and every one of them ! my dm’s are open too, i rlly love to get new friends <3 that’s pretty much all, have a nice day 🤍

[kitkatfingers]

i feel like everybody's singing out of tune

pairing: colt seavers x reader

summary: because of circumstances outside of your control, you're left overwhelmed and anxious. colt offers a solution in the form of a friendly scuffle.

warnings: no use of y/n, gn reader, switch!reader, switch!colt, established relationship, descriptions of stress/anxiety, light angst, hurt/comfort i guess?, mentions of friend issues but no specifics, reader is described as physically weaker than colt but no descriptions of body types, this is just an excuse to write a tickle fight, light swearing, light kissing

word count: 2k

authors notes: this one is very self-indulgent. can i have a personal funny guy to help me get rid of that annoying skin crawling anxious energy that leaves you restless? and yeah ive fallen into the goslingverse wormhole. title: petals on the moon by wasia project

///

You let your phone clatter onto the counter, not caring about being careful with it.

Leaned over on your elbows, you dropped your head down to run your hands through your hair shakily. Your fingers met at the back of your skull. You could feel your body trembling slightly.

The worst part of all of this was that you couldn't do anything. It was outside of your control.

You hated not having control. It always left you shaky, anxious, distressed. Like if you could only take charge then nothing bad would ever happen.

You clenched your fingers tight, pulling at your hair, trying to focus on the dull ache it provided.

Not on your phone chiming with new messages.

You told her this would happen. She had come to you for advice weeks before, and the two of you talked at length about what decision she should make. You told her exactly all the ways it could go wrong but, ultimately, she was in charge of her own life.

Now everything was going bad, and she was begging for help.

The trembling in your body increased slightly. Your chest stuttered, making you gasp sharply.

The front door rattled, and you heard Colt thudding his way through the apartment.

You forced a deep breath, running a hand down your face. You straightened just as Colt got into the kitchen.

"Hey." You said, then cleared your throat to sound less breathless. "How was work?"

Colt stopped dead in his tracks, eyes scanning up and down your form. "What happened?"

You shook your head. "It's fine. I'm fine."

Colt frowned, and stepped closer to you. His hands, calloused but gentle, rubbed up and down your arms.

"You're shaking."

"Yeah." You let out a weak laugh. "I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin."

"What's going on?"

Your phone chimed again in that moment, screen lighting up with your friend's name.

"Ah." Colt said simply, turning back to you. "Things turned out bad?"

You exhaled sharply, stepping away from Colt's embrace to pace around the kitchen.

"It's bad." You said, pacing towards the doorway. "Everything I said could go wrong went wrong, and now I feel like maybe my paranoia is actually good for something."

"You did tell her." Colt said, watching you. "But she makes her own decisions."

"Right." You agreed, turning on your heel and pacing to the opposite end of the kitchen. "And I don't wanna say 'I told you so' because that's rude, but I really want to and that makes me feel bad. And, on a deeper level, I don't feel bad about that."

"You feel bad because…you don't feel bad for her?" Colt frowned a little.

"Exactly." You turned, made your way back to the doorway. Turned on your heel again, but froze in spot. You looked up at Colt. "Am I a bad friend?"

"No!" Colt soothes. "No, of course not."

You nodded, looking aside, flapping your hands by your sides. "I feel like a bad friend."

Colt sighed through his nose softly. "Look. You spent weeks talking with her about it. You stayed up half the night more times than is healthy, just to make sure you covered every angle. She knew exactly what she was getting into. None of this is your fault."

"Feels like my fault." You admitted in a whisper.

"It isn't." He repared, more firm this time. "It's just your brain trying to control the situation."

You buried your face in your hands. "I know."

Colt didn't approach you, letting you process.

"I feel like I'm about to climb the walls." You said, emerging from your hiding place, hands flapping again.

Colt pursed his lips, thinking. Then, seemingly making a decision, he pushed off from the counter he had leaned up against, and came to stand in front of you.

"Alright." He said, stepping into a fighting stance, fists raised up by his face. "Have at it."

"What?" You blinked, hands faltering. It felt like bugs crawled under your skin at the loss of movement, so you took to squeezing your hands in and out into fists.

Colt raised his eyebrows expectantly, spreading his arms wide. "Fight me."

"I'm not going to fight you." You objected.

"Why not? It'll ease the adrenaline." He said, then pushed at your shoulder with just enough force to make you sway backwards a little. "Come on!"

"Colt." You admonished. He pushed again, on your other shoulder. "Seriously?"

You locked eyes and for a long, silent moment, neither of you moved. Colt - never one to back down - and you - avoidant of all things confrontational.

Then he smirked.

He shot out his hand to squeeze at your ribs in one, single movement.

"Hey!" You gasped, flinching. His arm was back at his side before you could even try to catch it.

"What?" The smirk got impossibly wider, and he struck again in the same spot. You flinched again, trying to block his hand.

That was when your phone rang, buzzing against the counter loudly.

"Don't even think about it." Colt said immediately when you looked in the direction of your phone.

"It could be her." You said, taking half a step towards it. Colt side stepped to block your path.

"She'll be fine." He said. "You don't need to fix her life for her."

"What if-"

"You've done enough." He insisted. The phone fell silent.

You couldn't help it - your eyes flickered again to where it lay on the counter.

"Alright." Colt said with finality, and then his hands were on you.

Colt could be precise when he wanted to - stunt work required precision as well as guts - but that was not his intention with you this time. His hands kept moving, kept jumping from your ribs, to your thighs, to your stomach, neck, hips. You had no way of tracking or predicting his movements.

"Come on!" Colt baited over your scattered laughter. "Don't you just wanna let loose?"

You knew you were playing right into his hands. But what other choice did he leave you? You swatted at him, weaving your hands between his reaching ones, and pinched his sides. Giggles burst out of him immediately, and he twisted against your grip.

Colt, however, was a stunt actor. And stronger than you. So when he wrapped his arms around you and hooked his foot over your ankle to tackle you to the ground, you went down like a sack of poatoes.

Flat on your back, Colt's leg thrown over one of yours, you felt a bit like a bug stuck upside down, limbs flailing to no avail.

Colt sneaked his hand under your hoodie, nails scratching just by your hip. Laughing loudly, you aimed your hand at his neck. His chin ducked and shoulder came up, trapping your fingers against his skin. He wheezed a laugh, but apparently wasn't overtaken by your tickling that much. He lowered himself until he was level with your abdomen, hands hiking up your hoodie.

"Don't you dare-" You warned, but Colt was already lowering his mouth to your abdomen, blowing hard against your skin. Your back arched as you burst out laughing.

"Are you just gonna lay there and take it?" Colt teased, lifting off you, but replacing his mouth with both hands against your sides.

Okay, you thought, focus.

You curled you leg up, bracing your foot against Colt's hip. Then you hooked one hand under his arm, the other on his shoulder, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket. You knew Colt was humouring you, but that didn't stop you. Taking a deep breath through your laughter, you shoved at him with all your might, forcing him onto the floor next to you and quickly following after him.

When you rolled on top of him, straddling his hips, he was already grinning.

You slapped his reaching hands away from your thighs. "Stop it!"

"You gonna make me?" Colt sounded thrilled - no, hopeful - and reached again, managing a couple of squeezes above your knee. His eyes twinkled when you yelped and you realised - you have to put a stop to this. With newfound determination, you pulled Colt's unzipped jacket to both sides, exposing the tshirt underneath.

"That's not exactly what I had in mi-whoah!" Colt's tease was cut short as you wedged your fingers under his arms, scribbling your nails at his uppermost ribs. His shoulders scrunched up to his ears, head thrown back in wheezy laughter.

"You're such a little shit, Colt." You said over the noise, though without much heat, and felt his legs kick out behind you.

"Oholny for yohou!" He managed, and you decided he was too coherent.

So you leaned over him and blew a raspberry against his neck.

He squealed. An honest-to-god high pitched squeal, and his hands gripped at your hoodie desperately, tugging, but clearly with no further plan of action.

"That bad?" You asked, leaning back to look at his face. He was still laughing, since you hadn't stopped scribbling your fingers over his ribs. His cheeks turned pink at your words.

You grinned, satisfied with the results.

"Nothing to say?" You couldn't help but tease. Colt made a choked, grumbling sort of sound that made you laugh lightly.

Then his grip tightened and your world tilted.

Colt had you underneath him on the floor again. His weight pinned you down effectively as he sat over your legs. He positioned his hands over you, curled into claws.

When you shot your hands out to try and catch his, he pulled them back. Out of your reach, but still claws.

You felt yourself flush.

He only grinned, dopping his hands abruptly until they almost made contact, then pulling back again as you flinched.

"Nothing to say?" He repeated your words.

You took his distraction as an opportunity, and tried aiming for his hips. Arms flailed amongst vague threats and choked off laughter, as both of you tried to gain the upper hand.

Colt, of course - damn him - came out victorious.

He immobilitsed both your arms by crossing them at the wrists and pressing them into your chest tightly with his hand. His other hand braced on the floor by your head, and he leaned over you to cover your face in light kisses. Your eyes scrunched shut at the fluttering, ticklish sensation, but any attempts at turning your head away were futile as he simply followed your movements.

"Leave me alohone!" You complained, face burning at the affection.

"Mm-m." Colt objected, trailing down over your jaw and to your neck. His stubble made the feeling even worse.

"Noho!"

"Will you promise to leave your phone alone?" Colt asked against your neck, raising goosebumps over your skin. You scrunched your shoulder, but his head blocked the movement.

"Yes, yes, just let me up!" You agreed quickly.

You felt his lips curl into a grin against your neck, and he nipped you lightly before straightening. He kept your arms in his grip, though.

"Don't even try tickling me." He warned you, eyebrows raised, but still grinning.

"I won't."

Colt released you, getting to his feet. By the time you managed to scramble to yours, he was grabbing your phone off the counter.

"For safekeeping." He exlpained when he saw you looking, slipping your phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Chuckling lightly at your disgruntled expression, he leaned over to place soft kiss on your lips in an attempt to pacify you. "Wanna order waffles and watch that trash show you love?"

"It's not trash." You muttered, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulders.

"It's kinda trash, babe." He said, leading you to the living room.

"I want extra strawberries on my waffle." You said, ignoring his comment.

"I will get you triple strawberries." Colt said, with all the seriousness of a man heading into battlefield. "Quadruple strawberries."

You snorted, letting him nudge you gently down onto the sofa.

He was right, you mused to yourself quiety as you watched him tap in the order on his phone. You've done what you can, and freaking out over someone else's bad choices wasn't goint to benefit anybody.

You reached for the TV remote before Colt could catch you staring.

With him around, everything would turn out just fine.

[quillandtickle]

I'm new here but is your banner a newgirl reference by chance😏

If it is, it's not an intentional one😅

[quillandtickle]

in ur ryland grace tkl hcs ,, when was the part where he went "nooo!" ,, i don't remember that part qwq

When he's trying to open Rockys cylinder and goes, "Lefty tighty, righty loosey." After he opens it, he smells it, then remembers that's a bad idea and goes "oh noOOOOOOO"

[spider-starry]

This photo is very important to me as a nerd fucked. Like yessss Ryland. Lean forward and say some of the most condescending shit imaginable to me. We both know who is getting pegged later. And it ain’t gonna be me. ;)

[a-simple-lee]

Hey how do we feel about Grace with a ticklish back. Asking for no reason in particular

Okokok listen, I know I wrote this line in "going soft":

"Oh yea, I don't think mine is. I mean, even if it is, it's not this bad."

But consider: Ryland does NOT know his own tickle spots very well

Is it as bad as his tummy or ears? Probably not, but if you tickle round his shoulder blades he DOES NOT know what do to with himself, he just curls up and breaks into these really light giggles and he gets SO flustered by it

The areas nearer his sides are definitely worse, he'd get so embarrassed if you just traced over them lightly for a bit, he CANNOT handle gentle tickles they're so flustering for him, RIP

And if you do a little zip down his spine when he's not expecting it he WILL jump 10 million feet in the air

So i think mayhaps he was lying a little in that fic 👀

Thank you so much for sending asks guys i literally love being feral for ryland with you all, receiving anons genuinely makes my day ♡♡♡♡

[quillandtickle]

heyy just swinging by to say i love your work and you're one of my favourite blogs on here <3 have an amazing day!!

You're the sweetest. Thank you so much. I'm glad you're enjoying the content. Feel free to request anything!

[quillandtickle]

What fic do you want to see next?

After I knock out my requests tonight, which original idea do you want to see first?

Which Plot Next?

Grumpy (Reader) x Sunshine (Grace)

Reader remembers where Grace is ticklish. He doesn't, chaos ensures

Grace sometimes forgets he's a bit ripped (Revenge Tickles)

Grace is trying to get the Reader to swear less

Voting ended onMay 18

[a-simple-lee]

Oh my God, imagine swearing a lot on Project Hail Mary, and Grace has enough of it. It gets to a point where you swear, his head snaps over, and you immediately panic and start defending yourself.

When he puts his book down to stand up you know its game over

-@quillandtickle

FUCK

You are so correct you literally never miss

He's totally the type where he just makes it into a game because the two of you have nothing better to do

I fear it would get to the point where tickling just becomes a substitute for a swear jar like you say "shit" and he just walks over stretching and says "ok so where am I tickling this time?" Or "You know what this means, don't you?"

Or the alternative is he immediately races to "taze" you in the ribs every time so you start getting jumpy and he's sat there all smug whenever you're about to say something and think better of it

[mystey-here]

HOLY SHIT UR BOTH LITERALLY SO RIGHT

it’s like a HONING BEACON whenever you swear, the way his head swivels over to you like an OWL and it gets to a point where you just preemptively start RUNNING because you know he’s BOOKING IT after you

[quillandtickle]

Canonically, Grace has amnesia because it was induced, so he would cooperate on the mission.

The other astronauts wouldn't have memory loss. So with that saaaaid...

Reader would remember where Grace is ticklish and Grace wouldn't remember where Grace is ticklish...

Imma write this, but y'all are welcome to steal the prompt too👀👀

[cutiedrpepper]

I wanna lick his biceps

#rylandgracesupremacy

[redtickledpink]

Okay but seeing someone who wears glasses laughing themself to tears and having to take their glasses off until they can calm back down just does something to me that i cannot put into words…UGHHH my HEARTTTTTTT

[quillandtickle]

Ahem

[quillandtickle]

Ryland Grace Ler Headcannons

Just really likes to see you laugh

Gets such a kick out of anticipation. He'll approach really slowly and until you're backed up like a cornered animal. "Just wait! Just wait!" And he just smirks and looks at you over his glasses."I'm waiting... just seems to be making it way worse, is all"

He'll put his hands in his pockets and shrug. "I'm really not doing anything" despite smiling like a criminal

Loves a good chase. Not a long one, but if you run, he'll let you just so he can run up and pick you up by the waist

Loves all kinds of tickles. He loves discipline tickles where he's doing it to get something. Like to make you sleep or relax or pay attention to him.

He loves a good tickle fight. He's ticklish but will often be able to fight back, so you're just both getting each other in a pile of giggles.

Getting the upper hand in this situation is like crack to him

He loves soft tickles where the two of you are just laying down, and he's stroking your back or arms, making you giggle into his chest.

"Whahat? I'm not doing anything"

Speaking of back/arms, he loooves finding uncommon tickle spots and will point it out. "HERE TOO? Is there anywhere you're not ticklish?"

Cannot help but smile when he's tickling you and will deny it if you call him out. "I'm nohot smiling, I'm not"

The beard, the beard, the beard! It's a weapon, and he knows it. He'll hug you from behind and tell you it's time to sleep. "5 more minutes," you say, and he just hums and drops his chin to your shoulder, smiling when you tense up. If you don't scoot your caboot, he'll slowly move it to your neck as his smile gets bigger.

It's not long before he's turned your chair around, has one knee up on your seat as he leans down and buried his face into your neck

On another note, when you're cuddling, he'll lay down into the crook of your neck and fake sore until it tickles. You can try to push him off, but he'll just lay heavier and pin you down as he claims innocence...right into your neck

Big into holding you close while he tickles you. Whether it's a hug or spooning or leaning over you while you're on your back. He just loves to feel you squirm against him.

Will tickle you if you tease him by calling him "Dr Grace," "Dr Captain Grace," "Professor," "yes, teacher," whatever you decide to say to be cheeky

"But yohohou ahahahare a dohoctor!" "Yeah but you don't have to say it like that," he'll argue. If you insist you're "not saying it like anything," he'll just smirk and scoff and go "mmmhm, right" because he might be a little shy, but he's not stupid

Definitely the kind of guy to put your feet over his lap when you're sitting together. He'll rest a hand on your soft socks, but it won't be long before he's messing with you.

Tickles you out of habit sometimes like it's a stim. If you're just relaxing, he'll absent mindedly run his thumb back and forth before dragging his fingers up and down. Whether it's on your side, back, legs, or feet. When you jump, he gets genuinely surprised and apologises (while laughing).

After that, he can't help himself but mostly because he can feel you twitching and tensing with nerves

[dcczero2]

Mean ler!Ryland Grace uses you as a teaching moment. Very very tummy focused I was in a mood.

This is it for you. You’re sure of it. It won’t be the end of the mission that kills you, or an alien, or even just natural causes if you do manage to make it back home. It will be Dr. Ryland Grace. A man who, up to this very point, you had considered your friend.

You don’t remember how you even ended up in this position, pinned down on the floor in the lab, or why you ended up in this position in the first place! Usually, it can be accredited to a smart-ass remark you let slip before you could catch yourself, or an eye roll that was much more noticeable than you meant for it be. This time, you’re pretty sure he’s just tormenting you because he feels like it.

Somehow, he’s managed to pin you flat on your spine, and his back is turned as he sits beside you, partially leaned across your chest. All you can do is push at his back and shoulders while he kneads all around your belly and sides, occasionally trailing down just a bit to slot his thumbs into the dips of your hips and squeeze.

He had made a big show of ever so slowly pulling your shirt up just below your ribs, and then reaching down to pull the waistband of your pajama bottoms down just far enough to expose your hips and lower belly before he got started- which seems like forever ago to you right now.

Not that you’ve really been able to keep track of the time, but you’ve taken several minutes of this already, with a couple of small “breaks” that consisted of him lightly trailing his fingertips over your flushed skin.

What had been threats and swears have since turned into nearly incoherent pleading and pitiful giggles. He’s talking. You know he is, he has been this entire time— teasing you when you let out a particularly cute noise, or commenting on how adorable it is that you’re kicking and squirming like it’s actually going to help somehow— but you can’t hear him over yourself. What little you can hear doesn’t register.

The only thing you’re absolutely sure of right now is that he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this to you— just held you down and played with you until he decides he’s done. He has, on several occasions, told you that he’s pretty sure they just sent you up here as his stress toy- only jokingly of course, though it being a joke doesn’t stop it from flustering you beyond belief.

This time around though, he doesn’t account for visitors, and when he brings his hands to the center of your belly, one clawing at the plush spot below your navel while the other spiders above it, the shrill squeal it draws out evidently catches the attention of a concerned bystander.

You don’t hear the rumbling noise of Rocky’s ball rolling towards the two of you, and you don’t register his voice when he starts squawking at Ryland about your predicament. Everything is fuzzy, and you shudder as you try to blink through the brain fog.

It takes you several seconds to realize that you can breathe, and you seemingly have a moment of reprieve as Ryland tries to calm Rocky down.

When you do manage to get your bearings, you see Rocky shifting from leg to leg and waving his arms wildly at Ryland before he notices that you’re alert, and he very quickly rolls his way beside your head.

“Friend okay, question?”, he asks, his voice high pitched as he taps on his ball, “Breathing okay, question?”. He rattles off several other questions but all you can manage out is a weak “uh huh” and a thumbs up as your chest heaves.

“See, Rock?”, Ryland starts, “They’re perfectly fine. I told you they’re not dying.”

You would have objected to that if you weren’t still in such a compromising position.

“Everything’s okay. It’s just tickling.”

You huff, bringing your hands up to cover your red face as Rocky lets out an inquisitive chirp and rolls back over to Grace.

“Tickling, question?”, he murmurs. You groan, "Rocky please-"

Ryland sighs, waving you and nodding at the alien. He should have known Rocky wouldn’t really know what it is. Even if they have something similar on Erid, it almost definitely would look much different for them.

“Yes, tickling. Think of it like… like- uh, playing, I guess. Most humans are ticklish, which means parts of their body are sensitive to touch— particularly areas that cover vital organs, or spots that aren’t typically exposed to touch.”

“Hmmm…”, Rocky hums, “Why?”

There’s a pause, save for the muffled sound of you grumbling at Ryland to "please stop talking".

“Well, um, I guess it’s like a defense mechanism. To protect those spots. When you touch them in certain ways- like squeezing or poking, that’s what we call tickling, and it makes humans laugh”, he glances back at you, the corner of his lip tilting upwards ever so slightly before he looks back at Rocky, “Or in some cases, squeal. Or beg.”

You turn your head, refusing to look at Ryland out of pettiness and also the sake of your own dignity. Actually, it’s primarily for the sake of your own dignity.! Rocky seems to understand, as well as he can at least, and the brief silence that hangs in the air makes your stomach twist before the both of them speak at the same time. "Show Rocky." "Would you like a demonstration?" You knew it was coming, and still your breath hitches as you twist in Ryland's grip, but you're just as stuck as you were before. The noise you let out can only be described as a whimper, but it's immediately interrupted by a loud squeal when you feel his fingertips trail gently up and down the sides of your belly. "Nononono, Ryland, please-!", you babble out, trying to pull your knees to your chest in a desperate attempt to protect yourself, but you're ignored as Grace pushes them right back down and starts to explain your reaction to Rocky. "Usually, they wouldn't react like that right away, but the longer you tickle someone, the more sensitive those spots get. You can't see this, but this skin right here is already really red." Rocky bounces up and down a bit, paying close attention to Grace's hands, "Red. Why red, question?" You tremble when his hands trail further up, closer to your ribs, just to trail all the way down to your hips. You're in a constant fit of giggles. You know it’s only going to get worse, and the anticipation is driving you mad, but you can tolerate this much better than what he was putting you through just a few minutes ago. "Two reasons, actually. Humans turn red when they're flustered but the tickling itself stimulates blood flow, especially if I were to be just a little bit meaner," your eyes widen, and you shake your head, "like this". You try to arch your back when light tracing turns to quick clawing, but he has a firm hold on you. "You hear that?", he asks when bubbly giggles turn to desperate laughter. "That's because there are different ways to tickle people. Different spots and methods get different reactions." He brings his hands down, squeezing rapidly at your hipbones before he squeezes all the way up your sides to your ribs, and then back down again. You kick uselessly, shaking your head and pleading through cackles, which only encourages him. Rocky can't help but feel just a little bad for you as he rolls over to watch you a little more closely, "Why telling Grace to stop if it's just play, question?" "Because I don't like it!", you whine. You can see Ryland's shoulders shake a bit as he laughs at that. Rocky perks up, slightly concerned as he rolls back over to look at your captor, who speaks before Rocky has a chance to voice his worries. "They're a liar." The way he says it so matter-of-factly would be insulting if it wasn't true. "Most people don't like being tickled. It doesn't really feel... good", he circles his nails around your navel while the other claws at your lower belly. "Think about if you had a really bad itch, and you can't scratch it, and the longer you go without scratching it, the more intense it gets. And maybe it starts in one spot, but it can spread all over your body, and you can't do anything to stop it. That's what tickling feels like." Rocky shifts left to right at the description of it, and it only makes him feel a little worse for you in that moment. "Your friend over here, though...", Ryland starts, and you're so glad you can't see his face because you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "Well, they love it. They will absolutely never, ever admit that for two reasons. One, they're all embarrassed about it because they think it's weird, blah blah blah", he rolls his eyes. "Two, I would literally never let them live that down, like ever." "Hmm," Rocky hums before letting out a soft trill, "Why ask Grace to stop if they like it, question?" You so desperately want to tell Rocky to please stop asking questions, but you're certain that's much too long of a sentence to get out coherently, and you’re far past the point of intelligible speech.

Grace is thrilled. He gets to do his two very favorite things: bestow knowledge upon an eager to learn mind, and tickle you out of yours.

“Well, it’s an instinct, and human instincts can be weird. Tickling is a really overwhelming sensation, even for someone who likes it. So, they’ll try to make it stop— or, beg for it to stop if they’re otherwise incapacitated.”

As if on queue, you let out a weak, pitiful “please” when he vibrates five fingers in the very center of your belly.

“See, I’m being very, very nice. No matter how much they beg, or squirm, or ask me so very nicely to stop, I know they don’t really wanna get away. Isn’t that right?”.

You can tell from the tone switch the last bit was meant for you— probably the first bit too— but you’re confident that he’s very aware you were not listening. You take a deep, greedy breath when tickling fingertips turn to a firm palm, rubbing soothingly against your skin.

At first, you don’t respond, but, you nod at him when he shifts to face you, still leaned over you with his head propped on your sternum. You have no idea what he was asking you. You don’t really care either. All you can focus on is catching your breath and behaving as well as you possibly can, even as you eye Ryland wearily.

Not that your “behavior” has ever swayed him to be nice.

Rocky rolls around to the two of you, idling at your head. You glance up at him for just a moment, a small smile still on playing at your lips as your breath finally evens out. You hadn’t noticed you were still giggling, and fortunately, neither of them comment on it.

“You got any other questions, bud?”, Grace asks Rocky, but his eyes are on you, and his tone is notably softer.

You’re so relieved it’s over. You can finally let your guard down, relax, and just let Grace take care of you.

And then, Rocky lets out a small chirp, just as you close your eyes and let your head lull to the side.

“Grace said other spots are ticklish too, question?”

Your eyes widen instantly, only for you to be met with the devious grin growing on Ryland’s face.

You should have known Rocky would have more questions, and Ryland definitely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to torment you in the name of education.

You whimper, giving him an absolutely pitiful little look, but before you can protest, he’s already positioned above your head, pulling your arms up and pinning them under his legs.

“Rocky, bud, I know I’ve already said this but I think you and I are going to get along perfectly.”

————

Don’t hate me if this has some weak moments or typos, this idea struck me like a premonition to a prophet and I rushed to tell the masses.

[dcczero2]

And for the lee!Ryland truthers, dinner.

“H-Hey— wait, hold on!”

“No.”

“Please! I didn’t— this is not f- c’mon! Just-let’s just talk about this!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that, glaring at Ryland from across the rolling table he’s pulled between the two of you in a desperate attempt to create more distance. He watches you wearily, his eyes wide and flitting all around in search of an escape. His heart is pounding so hard his ears are starting to ring, and in the moment of stillness, he takes deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

You watch for just a moment, entertaining the illusion of peace only briefly before taking a hurried step forward. He lets out a yelp when you push the table out of your way and continue after him, and he darts to the right of you, out of the lab and back onto the beach.

It goes without saying that you have no interest in talking, especially given that he’s managed to run you around the entire beach twice now, and is seemingly working towards a third. You're hot, and you're tired, and it's his fault.

“Come on, Ryland~”, you sing, slightly out of breath as you jog behind him “It’s much easier when you just let it happen”. His face flushes red as he recognizes his own words from just hours earlier thrown back at him.

See, the day hadn’t started like this at all. In fact, it had been quite the opposite. He had woken up with a want- no- a need. Something loud and hungry and in desperate need of attention. Something he had to satiate. So, he had sought out to do just that.

It felt exactly the same as all the times he’d gotten the gnawing urge to draw squeals and giggles and pretty little desperate noises from your lips. So naturally, he assumed that's what would cure his deficiency. What else was he meant to do?

You, you poor thing, had no idea what waited for you when you rolled out of bed, stretched, and sleepily made your way after him.

He was on you as soon as you stumbled out of the house and into the lab, before you even got the chance to wake up good. Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure what had happened, just that an arm had wrapped tight around your waist before he hoisted you up and carried you right back inside. By the time he was done, you were so worn out you went back to sleep.

He got what he wanted. Then again, he always does. But, that need had just kept buzzing at him. Even as he lay beside you, petting your hair, tracing your skin while you slept it off, it ached in the back of his mind. All day. No matter what he was doing, he couldn’t shake the thought of fluttering fingertips and bubbly giggles. The problem was that this time, the feeling is just slightly different.

Usually, he’s mean, but now, now just the thought of it is making his face flush red as he gets what he could only describe as butterflies. He can’t focus on anything else. Not Adrian’s rambling about the water temperature, or Rocky’s mention of fixing up Mary. Not even Armando’s new voice box that sounds strikingly similar to Meryl Streep.

You had noticed his behavior was a little odd. It was hard not to. He was fidgety, stumbling over his words, tripping over himself, lost in thought. He couldn’t stand still for the life of him, and every few minutes you’d catch the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck. Of course he's naturally a little awkward, but this was something different. You really didn’t know what to think at first, but you just couldn’t shake the thought that you should be able to identify his behavior and-

“Oh my god.”

You looked up, eyes wide as Ryland’s voice interrupted your thoughts, just as you pieced it together. From the wide-eyed look on his face, he had too.

That was all it took. One look between the two of you, a mutual understanding, and he had turned on his heels before you even got the chance to tell him to run.

He doesn’t realize as he strides across the sand that running into the small beach house almost certainly isn’t the best idea, until he finds himself standing in the walkway with limited options for running or hiding. His heart drops as he hears your footsteps behind him before you stop in the doorway, taking a breath.

“You”, you point at him, hunched over slightly as you steady your breathing, “yooouuu are so fucked.”

He’s seemingly frozen for a moment before he turns slowly to face you. You’ve never seen a man so red. It’s almost concerning, and the awkward smile he cracks certainly doesn’t help.

“Wh— me?”, he asks, forcing out a small chuckle, “Pfff, I’m just- we’re— you know, we’re just messin’ around! Right?”

You raise an eyebrow, propping one hand on your hip as you watch with great amusement as he tries to talk his way back into your good graces. You also certainly don’t miss the slow step he starts to take backwards.

His hands are raised in front of him just enough for the gesture to be defensive, and he moves ever so slowly. Almost like he thinks you wont notice if he moves slow enough.

“I-I think we should take a break! Just relax for the rest of the day, have a nice bath, a-and I’ll even invite Rocky and Adrian over!”.

You huff out a laugh of your own, crossing your arms over your chest as you just watch him back his way into the small bedroom. You’d be lying to say you arent thrilled at the opportunity to get him back, and you so badly want to rub in his face just how screwed he is, but you know his brain. So, instead, you say nothing. You just watch with a pointed look.

Sure enough, after a few seconds with no response or reaction, you can see him falter just a bit. His breathing quickens, and his face falls just slightly to one of panic, or maybe something more like anticipation.

“I— c’mon— why aren’t you saying anything?”. You’re sure he doesn’t mean for it to come out quite so whiny, but that doesn’t change the fact that it does anyway, and as overjoyed as you are to watch him writhe and whine about nothing more than a look, you’re eager to get your hands on him.

You roll your eyes with an exaggerated sigh as you take just two steps towards him. You can see his chest heaving. He's sweating, a mixture of nerves and the exhaustion of running around the beach, and you certainly don't miss the way he's trembling as he continues to slowly edge backwards. You're only so far from him as you cross the threshold from the living room into the bedroom, you could reach out, just grab him and get it over with. You, however, are much more attentive to your current surroundings than he is, and you spot almost immediately how his current course of action is going to get him in trouble. "Please, I am begging you. My light, my life, my best friend in the whole wide world. This is not necess-", he cuts himself off with a loud yelp as the back of his knees hit the bed and he falls backwards on the mattress. It takes him all of one second to realize how absolutely fucked he is, but you had watched, and you had planned, and you're straddling his hips before he can start to try to get himself up again. "NO! Nononono! This is not fair, we are not doing this!", he grumbles through gritted teeth, trying to make himself sound angry and intimidating, but he doesn't account for the giggles that he's not doing a very good job of holding in. They certainly aren’t deterring you in any way. He tries oh so hard to free himself, but you make quick work of grabbing his arms. Well, as quick work as you can. It is a slight bit of a struggle, he's much stronger than he looks, but you have the higher ground, and you can feel the will to fight slipping from him when you pin his wrists under your knees. He struggles for just a moment longer, face red and heart pounding as he looks anywhere but at you, and for the very first time ever, you have left Dr. Ryland Grace speechless. You give him a moment, just to settle, but even as he takes deep, steadying breaths, he can feel the anticipation crawling all over his nerves. He doesn't know what to do with himself, poor thing. Closing his eyes makes him paranoid about when you'll attack. Looking at you drives him up a wall. It's tingling up his spine and through his arms and down to his fingertips, and he doesn't notice how sweaty his palms are. It hangs heavy between the two of you, the knowledge of what's to come. It's peaceful for the moment- much more so for you than for him- but both of you know how this ends. He’s never been on the receiving end of such an inevitable fate, and you had greatly underestimated how incredible it feels to hold this much control over someone. So much so that every little move you make makes them squirm. "Nothing to say now, hm?" He squeezes his eyes shut as you card your fingers through his hair. It's damp with sweat, but you don't mind. Everything inside of him is telling him to do whatever he can to get away, and when the idea strikes him to bite, he almost acts on impulse, but he stops himself just as he bares his teeth. He shakes his head, and you can feel him twisting his hips in one last small effort to get some freedom, but it’s impossible for him to get any leverage in this position. You giggle and the sound sends a shiver down his spine. He narrows his eyes, the corner of his lip downturned as he glares at you, but when you bring one hand up, ever so gently holding him by the chin, he quickly corrects himself.

“Okay! Okay okay, ohhhh my god, I’m so, so sorry-NO!”

You don’t expect the first noise you draw from him to be so loud and high pitched, but you had gotten tired of listening to him ramble, and you’re so very content to prod experimentally at his ribs.

You’re taken aback yourself by the reaction, and you stop for just a moment before the slight smirk on your face turns into a shit-eating grin.

“Ohhh right here, huh?”, you enunciate the words by worming your fingers into the spaces between his ribs, wiggling against the soft flesh. He shakes his head, letting out little huffs as he tries so very hard not to laugh, but when your other hand finds the very same spot on his other side, he just cant seem to stop the steady stream of high-pitched, hiccupy giggles that spills from his lips.

“Nohoho! No— plehehease! Please- just—“, he whines through his laughter, squeezing his eyes shut as he turns his face to the side. You watch the way his eyes crinkle at the outer corner with his smile. You can’t help but giggle yourself.

“Just what?”, you ask, fingers trailing down to squeeze and prod at his sides. “Just stop? What if I don’t want to?”

He manages a couple quick breaths as your assault moves to a slightly less sensitive spot, but it’s still nearly unbearable.

“Plehehease!”, he whines out again, this time sounding particularly desperate. You can feel him tugging at his wrists. “I’ll never— I’ll never tihihickle you again!”

It’s such an absurd statement- especially coming out of his mouth- that you can’t help but laugh. “You are such a liar, Ryland”, you say, just as he manages to get one of his hands free.

He doesn’t manage much with his new found freedom before you grab his wrist, leaning forward to pin it above his head. He groans, his face burning red. This position just feels so much worse, so much more compromising.

You giggle, slipping your hand under his shirt just to trace your nails ever so slowly up and down his stretched side. “What’s wrong? You liked it better the other way?”

His breath hitches in his throat at the first touch of your fingertips against his bare skin, and he doesn’t know whether to shake his head or nod, which results in an odd combination of both.

“No- yes— I, ohhhh my god, I don’t know! I don’t know!”, his voice is strained, like he’s trying to hold his breath, and you can’t help but notice that he only gets more and more nervous the higher your fingers trace.

Just two fingers crawl slowly up his sides, then over his very sensitive ribs, and when you reach the spot riiiight under his armpit, you stop, just swirling around the sensitive patch of skin there.

You watch him close, your eyes never leaving his face. He’s trembling, shaking his head ever so slightly as giggles threaten to spill already. His eyes are still closed tight as he chews on his bottom lip. You can feel his legs shaking just slightly behind you- like he’s trying to calm himself down. He seems so worked up, so desperate to get away, but… you can’t help but notice that he’s not pulling quite so hard at his wrist. He’s not fighting like absolute hell anymore against your grip. Only instinctively jerking when your nails graze a little too close under his arm.

You don’t say anything about it. Not yet at least.

Slowly, ever so slowly, gentle tracing turns to soft, quick fluttering. Five fingertips right there, so very close to such a ticklish spot. Hushed, anticipatory giggles become something more frantic as his eyes widen. He turns to look at you, to watch, but he can’t. The nails so very close to tormenting him are hidden under his shirt. All he can do is feel it, and take it.

The thoughts sends a shiver down his spine as he arches his back just slightly, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“Are you nervous?”

It’s a simple question. It shouldn’t have his heart racing or his adrenaline skyrocketing, and it shouldn’t be as flustering or nerve-wracking as it is, but if he wasn’t already bright red from his current predicament, you’d be able to see the deep red flush on his cheeks. He huffs out through his nose. If you were meaner- like someone you know- you'd remark on the silly grin on his face or the little hiccups that slip out through laughter. His only response is a quick nod. "Why?", your voice is soft, but there's another underlying tone. Something a little too high pitched, too patronizing for the question to be innocent. He hears it. "You shouldn't be. You went through all that trouble this morning just for this. Isn't this what you wanted?", he twists just a bit underneath you as you trail tickling fingertips down just to his top rib, and then right back up just below his armpit. A man in a less vulnerable state would deny it. Ryland is many things, but an idiot isn't one of them. Most of the time. He opens his mouth, starting to answer, but he freezes, breath caught in his throat when you inch your fingers up just slightly and still them completely. You'd never heard him whimper before but you very quickly make a vow to yourself to draw the noise out of him again and again before you let him go. You feel him tense, like he's bracing himself, but you don't give him much time to be nervous about it before finding the sensitive skin under his arm, fluttering and scratching wildly. The reaction is immediate. Frenzies squeals and desperate laughter and several apologies. "Sorry? Why are you sorry? I'm having a great time! Aren't you?" His head is thrown back against the mattress, and he's twisting from side to side as much as he can in this position. He manages to get his other hand free but it does absolutely nothing to help him. Something something being tickled stupid turns him into an uncoordinated, blubbering mess apparently. He tries to respond coherently, but he can't seem to articulate exactly what he wants to say. Nor does he really know what he wants to say. He just keeps babbling out "please", especially when you wiggle your fingers in the very center of the stretched hollow, but he doesn't follow it up with "stop" or "quit". Part of you feels at least some semblance of empathy. You've been in his very predicament, torn between craving it and finding it absolutely unbearable. And then you remember that he's the very reason you've experienced such a torment. You just shake your head with a chuckle as you finally move from that spot, squeezing all the way down his ribs and sides just to dig your thumb into his hipbone. You start to linger there, but you're taken aback to find that that spot is the worst so far. His laughter falls silent for just a moment and his face gets impossibly redder as he arches his back, desperately trying to twist his hips left and right to get away from it. What had been somewhat intelligible pleas become absolutely senseless, and you finally pull away. You keep him pinned as he settles, but your hand quickly finds his face and hair, fixing his glasses before carding your fingers through soft blond locks, "Okay, shhh, it's fine. You're fine.", you soothe, though, you aren't sure how much of it he actually comprehends over the sound of his own residual giggles. "Breathe, bud. Real deep breaths", you take a deep breath in yourself, holding it for just a moment before letting it out, nodding and encouraging him to do the same. It takes a moment, but he does, goofy grin still on his face and all. He's still on edge, tensed up and flinching at every little move you make. You try not to laugh but you can't help it. It's cute. He's a mess. His hair is sticking up in every direction, and he's still twitching, but it doesn't take too long for him to calm down. You watch him, still combing through his hair as he lets his head fall back.

Eventually, the steady spill of giggles dies down and you shift positions, laying beside him and pulling him against you. He clings to you immediately, burying his face in your chest and wrapping his arms around you, one of his legs thrown over yours.

You rub up and down his back soothingly as his breath evens out.

“Sooo”, you start, your voice low, but he can hear the grin on your face, “you ready to figure out what other spots make you sound like that?”

Just the mention of it is enough to draw that pretty whimper out of him again.

——————

This one feels a little weak to me but I tried not to wreck him too hard for this particular concept.

I would just like to say, I really appreciate all of you. I haven’t written in years and I truly did not expect my little fics to get such overwhelmingly positive feedback, especially as I work on strengthening my writing and getting back into the swing of it. To be gone for so long and then immediately welcomed back with open arms was more than I could ask for, and I hope my fics and silly ramblings bring you guys as much joy as your kind words bring me.

[a-simple-lee]

Stubborn - PHM tickle fic

Ler!Grace, Reader

A/N: Welcome to the result of all my Ryland Grace brainrot...I am so Normal about this guy you have no idea. I'd apologise for the cringe reader insert but that wouldn't be very whimsical of me. Enjoy.

(One day I will include Rocky - today is not that day, I have...no idea how to write him yet)

Synopsis: When you put two people on a cramped spaceship, they will inevitably have stupid arguments - you just never counted on Grace resorting to torture when we wants to win a debate.

Ryland Grace is a pain in the ass.

“Give it back!”

“Nope.” You hold his notepad and pen well out of reach. “I don’t know what time it is, but we both need sleep.”

“Then go to sleep!” He whines, grabbing for his supplies.

“I would, if they’d packed me any fucking earplugs on this tin can. You have zero spatial awareness when you’re researching! It’s loud!”

Ryland frowns at your swearing, but continues to snatch at your hands - you float above him slightly and hold your arms well out of his reach, grateful that a height difference doesn’t mean as much in zero-G.

“Five more minutes?”

“You said the exact same thing half an hour ago.”

He shrugs at this, and keeps trying to snatch his stuff back. Things quickly devolve into a childish wrestling match, both of you grabbing and slapping at the other.

“Give! It! Back!” Grace punctuates the words with three lunges towards the book. They all miss.

Somewhere in the midst of the flailing, he grabs your sides, trying to drag you closer. He doesn't miss the sudden flinch it causes, nor the poorly suppressed yelp.

Deathly silence falls over the pair of you. 

Ryland narrows his eyes, calculating.

You school your expression into one of indifference as Grace starts smiling, and adjusts his glasses.

 “Are you ticklish?” He's thrilled. This does not bode well for winning your little argument.

“No. Don't distract me.” It's the least convincing lie you've ever told. You hold the notebook higher in case he tries anything, and lament the telltale blush creeping up your neck. The human body is excellent at betraying itself.

Before you can react, he tickles you again, with intent this time, fingertips skittering above your hip. 

A strangled squeak escapes. You instinctively reach down with your free arm and shove his wrist, eyes wide. 

"Ohhh, you liar!" Ryland meets your gaze with a low laugh, and the look on his face makes you briefly consider running out the airlock. You're out of time to contemplate one-way exits though, as he promptly grabs onto your waist and starts squeezing. 

“Grace! Don't-” You try to even out your breathing, not wanting to give him a reaction so easily. Laughter threatens to escape every time you try to speak. 

“I’ll stop if you give me the notepad,” he states matter-of-factly, fingers creeping up to prod your ribs. It's getting harder and harder to hold your arm up, and he can tell.

“Ne...aha...Never!” You manage, giggles rapidly overtaking your ability to string together a sentence.

He sighs. “Alright then, you leave me no choice.” 

With that, his hand moves under your arm, and it comes crashing down towards your chest. You're not ready to give up - you clutch the book close to your chest, both hands holding onto it for dear life.

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more difficult to stop Ryland from scribbling up and down your ribs in a way that drives you into utter hysterics.

“C’mon, I know you want to let go. Just let go. It’s so easy.” He worms a couple fingers under your arms, and laughs at the small shriek it causes. “Did that noise come out of you?”

“Please-!” You gasp, legs kicking uselessly. It's becoming apparent that tickle fights in zero G suck. Your instinctive squirming doesn’t do much without gravity to help you, so you're basically a sitting duck. Grace seems aware of this and takes full advantage, nudging you into a lying position to scribble over the sides of your stomach. He looks so damn smug that it makes you grip the notebook tighter out of spite.

“Oh, that's a good spot, isn't it? You go all squeaky when I do this.” The smirk on his face nearly kills you. 

Good god. You're trapped on a spaceship with a sadist. 

“Grace! Stop, mercy-” Your frantic laughter is punctuated with many embarrassing noises - a snort here, the occasional hiccup there. Ryland seems intent on cataloguing which areas draw these out, and it’s wearing your resolve very thin, very quickly. Luckily, he seems to sense this, and backs off to give you a breather.

“Mercy?” He hovers his hands near your torso. “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna count to three, and if you don’t give me that notebook, you’re done for. Got it?”

You’re a little too busy gasping for air to process anything. There’s a stupid grin on your face that won’t go away, and whenever you breathe out, a bunch of giggles slip out too. It’s utterly humiliating. 

“Two…” You must’ve missed the start of the countdown. Grace tilts his head at you, clearly surprised at your determination. He wriggles his fingers above your stomach, and that’s when you decide to give up. You shove the notepad at him in a panic, the thought of more tickling sending you into another laughing fit.

“Three- oh, thank you. There, was that so hard?”

You go to say something snarky in response, but it just comes out as an incoherent giggle. Grace chuckles.

“Ok, and what did we learn?”

You give him a rude gesture. He scowls and pokes you, which is enough to set you off again for a moment. Whilst you recover, he heads over to the desk to finish up whatever notes he was writing before. 

After a second, he hesitates, and looks at you over his shoulder.

“And don’t you even think about tickling me. Won’t work.”

…Something in his voice betrays him. You may be a liar, but it takes one to know one.