#ler!reader

[weregonnaneedabiggerboat]

Hehe more sketches of lee!Jax cause he's just that adorable <3

Might clean up the line art and colour if this gets enough attention :>

[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.

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

hope i'm not extremely late. happy birthday my boi. get well, be as creative and sweet as you are, here's Casper who loves you very much

Oh Val, thank youuuu and you're not late at all, still December 1 over here 🥹❤️

I'm trying so hard not to grin rn in class 🫠

My boyfriend Caspy-Waspyyy! This is amazing, thank you, Vallll ❤️

Look at his smile and aww the blushy faceee 🥺

[moonkssedmiu]

Comfortable Silence ♥️

A 'The Freak Circus' tickle fic ₊˚⊹♡

─────────﹒★﹒﹒──﹒﹒★﹒─────────

Summary: Believe it or not, a clown- no, a Pierrot, somehow getting in you apartment is nothing to worry about. Not when you too are laying on your bed, not when you're wrecking the 'poor' thing.

Ler: Reader

Lee: Pierrot

"Ah, my Liege. You're home!"

The moment you turn away from your door after locking it, you're greeting by none other than Pierrot, a wide smile almost splitting his face in half.

With a sigh of relief, you place your stuff down. "Hi, Pierrot. How are you?" You ask sweetly, not to mention strangely casually. If anyone else had been in this situation, it would probably be terrifying. But for you, this was a daily occurrence.

After work, when he was free, you would find Pierrot somehow in your apartment, waiting for you like a dog waiting for their owner. Getting you with similar excitement too.

"I'm great now that your here." His excitement doesn't dwindle, as he follows you around your apartment. "How was your day?" This was almost routine. While you cleaned your apartment, cooked dinner for you both then settled on your bed, he listened to you talk. About your day, random thoughts you had, people who had annoyed you (which he payed special attention to), basically anything. He listened to every detail.

Finally, the last part of your day. You were leaning against the headboard of your bed with a pillow behind you, but more notably, Pierrot laying on your lap. You two were laying in a comfortable silence, only broken when you found something else to say... and eventually something else.

You always had a habit of fidgeting. Hair, hands, clothes, anything you were holding. In this case, it was Pierrot's hair. It was comfortable for both you and him, until the quiet was interrupted by a startled squeak and Pierrot jolting to sit up.

You two didn't even have to speak, because you knew. Harlequin came up to you not too long ago, and with his usual shit-eating grin, shared a lovely secret with you.

Without missing a beat, you pounced on Pierrot, fingers darting to his sides.

"Kkkkkk~ Wahahit! Whahat ahare you-! Snrk-!" He could even try control himself. It was different at the circus, he usually couldn't speak which helped him contain most noises, but safe here with you, he had no chance. "Mphehe~ Plehehahese!"

"Aw~ You're even cuter than I thought!" You coo at him. From what Harlequin said, he was pretty good at staying quiet and he didn't actually laugh that loud, which made this reaction strange. Maybe it was because he was speaking... Ignoring that thought process, you continued the gentle scratching on Pierrot's sides.

"Pft- Ehe~ Naha-!" He didn't even try to resist, he didn't feel the need to. Because it was you, he was having fun. All he did was cover his face to hide the growing blush from your teasy compliments.

"No, no! Don't hide from me!" As if following your order, his hands immediately dart to grab yours, but that was actually because you started poking and prodding his ribs.

He squealed and let out more funny noises. His version of laughter you assume. But his hands never pull yours away. How cute.

"There we go! Now I get both your adorable face and noises. You're spoiling me!"

He shakes his head in protest but can't bring himself to speak, being too occupied by your devastatingly gentle tickles.

He let's out a squeak as your pokes turn to pinches. "My lihihehege, plehehahase!" The poor thing has no idea what he's asking for. He's enjoying himself, but isn't used to thing so he has no idea what to do with himself.

"Please what? Please stop? No, that cant be it. I can see how much fun your having." You chuckle, darting down to his hips and drilling your thumbs into them.

A snort and a buck of his hips. The most resistance he's put up so far... "Kkkkkehehe! Ehehe!" He doesn't even bother to whine anymore, mostly because he doesn't know what to say.

"Snrk- NAHAHAT THEHERE!" He burst into hysterics, surprisingly loud for him. You got distracted for a moment and subconsciously moved to his tummy, lightly scratching. His reaction almost startled you into stopping. Almost. But he still only kept a light grip on your wrists, never pulling you away.

You gasp. "How lucky of me! I stumbled onto a sweet spot!" You doubled down on it, more scritching, poking, squeezing, it drove him up the wall.

He knew he would be here for a while, but he found himself not minding it as much this time. Mostly because of the cuddles he got when you were done...

Sorry if this was short. I really struggled on this for some reason :(

[beat-lee]

⋆𐙚 ̊. Laughing at Life ⋆𐙚 ̊.

Characters : Lee!Henry Creel x Ler!Reader

Content: Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Cuddling, Redeemed!Henry AU, Fix-It Fic, Established Relationship

Summary : You show Henry everything he’s missed out on all his life. This includes something as simple as tickling

A/N : My first tickle fic! I apologize for the long length! I just got so inspired by this prompt and let loose. Whoopsie. Requested by @amanda-lovesyou39. Hope you enjoy, lovey <3

Second chances were something that Henry Creel thought always passed him by. He simply wasn’t the type of person that has good luck brought upon them, always unintentionally being met with deceit instead. Before his childhood could even begin, Henry was a target of manipulation, in more ways than one. His gifted mind and extraordinary abilities seemed to be the subject of fascination for monsters, human and eldritch alike. They tormented Henry, isolating him in a literal and metaphorical prison with seemingly no way out. Years go by, and he slowly learns to embrace this dark entity that invades his brain, letting it contort him into something beyond recognition…

And then, just as quickly as it occurred, the curse was broken.

The details were still very fuzzy, but the first thing Henry remembers was his eyes fluttering open and being met with a harsh overhead light and a crowd of hospital orderlies. He nearly panics, believing he’s back in that god forsaken lab, but he simply was awaking from a long-term coma in Hawkins General Hospital. The recovery process was excruciatingly long, especially now that his unique abilities were gone, the same abilities that were present for the majority of his life. Henry was no longer a pawn in a much bigger game. He finally had autonomy and a chance to start a new, but at what cost? He had no home or family, and Hawkins might as well be a completely different town with how much it’s changed over the past 30 years. That’s why it was an act of fate that he met you.

You worked at the Hawkins Library, a steady job that was enough to earn some money and kill some time. Most days were slow, but peaceful nonetheless. During a particularly boring shift stocking shelfs of the latest Stephen King title, you took special notice of a tall, rather awkward looking blonde man. He was hunched over, reading a book about spiders from what you could tell. This wasn’t a huge shock, as you’ve seen this same man in here quite a lot over the past few weeks. His fixation on spiders intrigued you, even if spiders grossed you out. It seemed like every time his tall frame walked through the doors, he bolted towards the back and picked up a textbook about spiders with him. You always left him to his own devices before, but this time, something inside you changed. You felt this spark of empathy in your heart seeing someone clearly so alone and always coming to the same place for comfort.

“You should read this one next, sir”

You say to the blonde with a gentle smile, placing a particularly thick book about the biology of spiders on the table beside him. Your voice is quiet, a soft hush that might have been the closest thing to peace Henry has heard in a long time. Then, he looks up, and your heart throbs and breaks all at once. You never noticed how striking and bright his blue eyes were, but the dark circles underneath them told a different story. He gives you a short nod of acknowledgment and not much else, maybe a mumbled ‘Thank you’ if you listened close enough.

“My name is Y/N. Give me a shout if you need anything. Oh, but not too loud, we’re still in a library.”

You chuckled rather shyly, pointing to the name tag on your uniform for emphasis. You mentally kicked yourself for such a silly quip, especially when this man did not seem like the joking type. You never were the best talking to people you found particularly attractive. Before you could turn away after a beat of dead silence, you heard him reply.

“…Henry. Nice to meet you.”

He whispers back, his voice nearly cracking around his words as if he hasn’t opened his mouth in years. Honestly, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Weeks turned into months and you two are seeing a lot more of each other. Little waves or nods of acknowledgment in the library turn into harmless small talk when you’re busy organizing shelves around his seat. Even in Henry’s weakened state, he always offers to help, to which you always blush and politely decline. The longer you get to know Henry, the more you realize just out of touch he seems with the world around him. He stared at an IBM computer like it was something out of a sci-fi novel, failed to pick up on all the popular slang, and didn’t even know who the president of the United States was. This absolutely shattered your heart and you took it upon yourself to help Henry get accustomed to life in Hawkins, the 1980’s version, that is.

You couldn’t remember who developed feelings first, only that yours and Henry’s bond grew quicker than ever anticipated. During all those trips to the Palace Arcade, Hawk Theater, and Family Video, a beautiful romance was formed through the mutual pure wonder of experiencing life for the first time again. The mundane seemed wonderful, every little discovery making your love grow deeper. Henry found solace and comfort through your patience and open minded view of him. Anyone else would take one look at his restless appearance and standoffish demeanor and write him off as no good, but not you. As for you, you just adored Henry’s wide eyed, albeit apprehensive view of life. He had interests and hobbies, yet seemed to be from a completely different time all together. It was your job to introduce Henry to, well, the concept of fun! You bought him clothes that complimented his style, showed him some of your favorite records, and especially your favorite films.

This meant taking multiple trips to the Family Video to rent tapes for movie nights, an activity you adored simply because of Henry’s utter confusion, and slight distaste of the films out these days. Sometimes it took a while to find something you both liked, but you always came to a unanimous conclusion or compromise. This evening in particular, right before the store closed, you managed to convince Henry to watch Dirty Dancing, a film that just came out a year prior.

“I can’t wait to show you this movie! Trust me, you’ll adore it!”

You squealed with joyful anticipation, holding the tape close to your heart as you practically skipped out of the store with Henry by your side. He couldn’t help the slow smile tugging at his lips at your enthusiasm, shaking his head with amusement.

“It wouldn’t be the first thing I’ve adored tonight”

He replies in that smooth voice, watching your reaction through the corner of his eye for that inevitable blush that overtakes your features.

You knew Henry suffered from horrible nightmares, so movie nights were a way to soothe them that usually ended in you falling asleep on his shoulder. This type of intimacy was foreign to Henry, cuddling up with his darling in a heap of blankets, the soft glow of the television illuminating the room. It felt strange, this warm fondness in his chest that was painful and blissful all at the same time. He never thought he was capable of such feelings for another person, especially not after his previous opinion of human beings as a whole. It made it difficult to focus on the film, but Henry tries his hardest for your sake. His head was just swarming, heart beating quicker than he ever experienced just by having you so close to his side. Every now and then, you’d glance up at him with those beautiful E/C eyes and ask him if he was enjoying himself, to which Henry always hummed in agreement.

For a while, Henry’s blue eyes just stared mindlessly at the screen, not really absorbing much about the plot or dialogue. All he could focus on was your smaller frame against his chest, the sound of your breathing acting like a soothing cadence. That is, until one little scene, the one where Patrick Swayze’s character accidentally brushes against Jennifer Grey’s underarm, causing her to tense up and giggle in his arms. Suddenly, Henry’s interest was peaked, literally and physically caught by surprise. You feel this sudden shift in body language, sitting up to gauge his face and noticing the utter confusion written across his sharp facial structures. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed tight as if he was solving a complex math equation.

“Why was she laughing just then?”

Henry asks you suddenly, his low voice taking on a more urgent tone, the same one he adopted when trying to understand the newest fad of the day. You couldn’t help but be shocked, but replied warmly nonetheless. You chuckled softly, gently brushing your fingers across a stubborn strand of Henry’s blonde hair.

“She’s ticklish, honey.”

You replied simply as if it was the most painfully obvious thing in the world. After that, you turned back to the screen for a brief second before Henry draws your attention back with a follow up question.

“Ticklish? Is that a standard procedure among humans these days?”

The new word sounds awkward on Henry’s tongue, as he sounds out the syllables with a mix of uncertainty and intrigue. For a moment, you think he’s joking, but that glance of pure curiosity spoke volumes. Your lips part in utter disbelief and sympathy, eyes softening profusely as your focus is entirely on your boyfriend.

“You…never been tickled before? Not once?”

You question gently, not passing judgement, but simply wanting to know the truth. You watched with a solemn expression as Henry shakes his head once, tilting his head to truly understand why you looked so stunned by this lack of affection in his life. He clears his throat, silently wondering why you looked so appalled.

“I suppose I haven’t. Is that strange, darling?”

You’re quick to reassure him, your hand shooting up to cover his, your fingers interlocking with his larger ones. Any signs of humor of in your voice was gone, replaced by mild concern and empathy.

“No, not at all. Would you like me to explain what it is?”

“Please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

You couldn’t help but smile warmly at Henry’s reply, finding it to be adorably innocent, especially in this warm, intimate setting. You keep your eyes locked on his, pausing for a beat to search for the right words to explain tickling. Your fingers stay intertwined with Henry’s the whole time, as if you were physically guiding him through your explanation.

“Well, tickling is when someone touches a sensitive spot on your body that makes you laugh and squirm. It feels kinda tingly, but is really fun!”

Henry stared at you with a bemused expression, eyebrows raised as if to decipher whatever it was you just described. He just didn’t understand why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so vulnerable, to give up control and be helpless. It went against everything he was ever taught.

“Continue…” Henry urges gently.

“There’s all sorts of ticklish places, but the most common are the stomach, feet, ribs, and sides. It all depends on the person, I guess.”

You point to each spot on your body as you list them off, gauging Henry’s face for any signs of change or understanding. You were hoping your explanation was good enough for him to grasp. Then, he blinks twice, expression twisting to mild distaste and detachment. However, you don’t miss the way his lips curl up ever so slightly as he scoffs.

“That sounds…ineffective.”

That got a real laugh out of you, making your eyes light up with love for the blonde man beside you. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyebrows raising in a playful challenge. Ineffective or not, you were not going to let Henry go without tickles any longer.

“Is that so? Well, let’s put that to the test…”

You purr, slowly letting go of his hand to rest them on the blankets between them. For a beat, you simply observe the change in Henry’s face at your innocent little remark, taking special note of the way his beautiful blue eyes widen at your sudden spark of determination.

“Would you like me to demonstrate?”

Your question is gentle, wanting to earn Henry’s consent before undergoing something like tickling. You knew how sensitive and oftentimes selective he was about physical touch and other acts of affection, so getting the green light from him was always your first priority. There’s a pause filled only by the ambient noises of the film playing in the background before Henry replies almost submissively, as if he was already mentally picturing this in his mind.

“I suppose I can humor you, darling.”

And with that, your gentle smile grew from ear to ear, practically overjoyed that you had the honor to be the first person to ever give Henry tickles. You made a mental note to be gentle and to not overwhelm him with harsh pokes or scribbles. He was like fine china, made to be handled with care. You set your plan into motion, moving to sit directly across from Henry on your couch and pulling the blankets away.

“Okay, raise your arms for me.”

You instructed gently, a mischievious lilt hidden beneath your words. His eyebrow raises in skepticism before following your orders, slowly and carefully lifting his long arms above his head. He sat across from you ramrod straight, shoulders rolled back and chin held high. The hem of his knit sweater hikes up ever so slightly as he does so, exposing some of his white undershirt. The situation was ridiculous, Henry knew, and yet he found himself indulging your eager instructions without much protest.

“This feels unnecessary.” He muses dryly, “But by all means.”

You roll your eyes affectionately before setting your plan into action, slowly raising your hands to hover above Henry’s defenseless ribs. After giving him a reassuring glance, your fingers begin to gently flutter over his ribcage, your touch as light as butterfly wings. In an instant, you feel Henry tense up as he fights the sudden urge to recoil. He fights tooth and nail to stay still as a statue, a faint blush creeping up his neck despite his best efforts.

“Y/N, W-What are you doing?”

“I’m tickling you, silly!” You chuckle warmly, doubling down and applying a bit more pressure along his ribs. “Do you like it?”

You can hear Henry bite back a gasp, stifling his natural reactions as he attempts to compose himself. His hands clench into fists as he struggles to keep his arms raised, an involuntary huff of air leaving his nose at the sudden change in speed of your fingers.

“It’s…strange.” Henry grunts softly, eyes clenching shut as he’s overcome with the oddest spur to laugh. He’s not sure whether to push you away or hold you closer. Unfortunately, Henry doesn’t have much time to think it over before your fingertips travel quickly up and down his abdomen, starting from the top of his ribs and wiggling all the way down to his sides. It nearly startles him how your nimble digits move in a dance like motion all over his middle, his arms finally clamping against his side as his body clenches like a coiled spring.

“Ngh-Nahahahahaha!”

Your heart nearly burst in your chest as Henry’s laugh finally graced your ears. It was a laugh, a real, unrestrained laugh! You’ve never seen him so childlike, his tall frame shuddering and shaking under your touch as giggles pour from his lips like a fountain. You can’t help but laugh along affectionately, not letting up for even a second if it meant seeing your dear boyfriend smile.

“There you go, honey!” You praise lovingly, “I think somebody is ticklish~”

Henry tries to shoot you an annoyed glare that has no real heat, but his smile is just so bright it fails him completely. He can’t think of a thing to say, his normally sharp mind reduced to nothing as those ticklish sensations shoot through his midsection like live wires. The blonde was almost lightheaded, the unfamiliar and flooding touches almost too much to take, and yet he finds himself actually looking for more.

“I wonder where else you’re sensitive…”

You muse out loud, pretending to contemplate where to tickle next even though you know damn well where your next target is. You keep one hand occupied by Henry’s side while the other moves south to scritch at his lower stomach, just above his navel. This proved to be very effective, as Henry throws his head back, blonde hair going askew as his eyes screw shut against the ticklish onslaught. A strangled noise tears from his throat, hands shooting down to grip your wrists, not to push you away, but to ground himself as another wave of laughter hits him.

“N-Nohohohoho, dahaharling, plehehehease!”

“Please what, Henry?”

You purr in an air of innocent obliviousness, your fingers continuing to spider and skitter over his taught stomach in a quick flutter. One of your fingers dip to draw little circles around Henry’s navel, earning you a particularly whiny chortle.He can hardly form sentences at this point, his usual aloof demeanor replaced by a giggling schoolboy.

“Gohohod dahahamn it, Y/N!” Henry chokes out between a rather charming string of belly laughs, “Stahahahahap it rihihihight now!”

Henry growls, trying to come across as menacing and threatening, but you weren’t buying it. If anything, it only fueled you to continue. You keep up your playfully mischievous touches, fingers darting all around Henry’s midsection like a bunch of restless ants. The longer you tickle, the more you come to adore his involuntary reactions, especially those helpless cackles that rip from his throat when you target an extra ticklish spot. He can hardly do a thing, only able to lay his head on your shoulder, burying his burning face into your shirt. This gives you an idea…

“Ah, ah. Don’t hide that face from me, mister!”

You chide gently, moving your hands up to flutter like a feather down the slope of Henry’s neck and under his chin. You didn’t expect such a sincere, vocal reaction, but that’s exactly what you got. The blonde man barks out another deep cackle, curling up against your body like a hedgehog. He ducks his chin into his chest in a silly attempt at self defense, which someone made him look more adorable.

“Ehehehehenough! M-Mehehehercy!”

Reluctantly, you pull your hands away, allowing Henry to get the well needed reprieve he needed from your tickle attack. You truly wanted to continue, but you knew better, and that meant treating Henry with the utmost care. He could be fragile, and you didn’t want to be the person to push him too far. The room suddenly becomes quieter without Henry’s laughter, only filled with his shaky breaths and grunts against your shoulder as he tries to collect himself. You hold him close, snaking an arm around him as your hand comes to rake through his blonde locks. Just like that, your touch goes back to being tender and reverent, occasionally cradling the side of Henry’s sharp cheek.

“You have such a lovely laugh.” You whisper against the crown of Henry’s hair, pressing a chaste kiss there, “I can’t believe I’m the first person to really hear it.”

“Only for you.”

Henry whispers back, looking back up at you with those wide, striking blue eyes that you fell in love with in the first place. He sits up, fixing the hem of his knit sweater and pressing his lips against your temple. You both knew you missed a good chunk of the movie while you were busy laughing and fooling around, but that was the last thing on both your minds. Just as the night was winding down, you held Henry’s hand again, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You mumble softly, your words having more meaning than just one. And for once in his entire life, Henry Creel felt warm…

[a-simple-lee]

Undeniable

Project Hail Mary tickle fic - Switch!Grace, Switch!Reader. ~2k words

🌌Synopsis Grace messes up an experiment. You are never going to let him live it down, but he's intent on destroying all evidence, and isn't afraid to be childish about it. Fortunately, neither are you. (Based on this ask and this ask) 🌌Author's notes holy shit this one turned out longer than expected. I have no idea how I feel about it but i'm at the point where I think i should post it and be done <3 enjoy ig! (thank you to @//harringtonsslvt for inspiring me to upgrade my post layouts!!! Space dividers by @//strangergraphics)

This is unbelievable.

You can't keep the grin off of your face. It's been a long long day in the lab for you...but it's clearly been a longer one for Grace. You've just found evidence of him making a mistake - one he swore up and down that he had never made, and would never make.

Your hands skim over the plastic lid of the electrophoresis tray in awe. The exact science here is irrelevant; the important thing is that someone has inserted the wires into the tray the wrong way around, causing all of the sample to scoot merrily off the gel intended to hold it.

"From black to red or your gel is dead, they drilled it into me in undergrad-" He'd always say, tutting when you asked him for the umpteenth time to check your own gels. It was more out of paranoia than anything - sometimes these things could take hours to set up. Grace had always been happy to help, always adamant that he'd never done it the wrong way around, despite it practically being a rite of passage for every molecular biologist.

And here it was: his time had finally come, one PhD and a suicide mission later.

"Oh, Maryyy~" You make sure the onboard camera is pointing at you.

Ryland lifts his head from the laptop at your tone, bemused.

"...What is it? ...wait, why are you grinning like that-"

"Maaarry, start recording, I need to keep this for posterity-"

"Recording started."

Grace's eyes dart from your face to the camera on the wall, and then down to the bench. The cogs turn for a second - and then, horror.

"No."

You nod.

"No, no, nope-" He stalks over. You lean back to let him see the complete absence of stained DNA on the gel. There's a pause as he stares, dumbfounded. You notice a slight twitch in one of his hands, and you instantly know what he's about to do.

He lunges to cover the evidence. Fortunately, you're faster- you step in front, blocking his reach but not the camera's view of his handiwork.

"MARY, STOP RECORDING- DO NOT-" Grace splutters, shoving at your shoulders. You shift the equipment further towards the wall, and start calmly extracting the gel from its equipment. If you suspend it in the appropriate buffer, maybe you can preserve it in a jar...as a reminder. The ship could do with some more decorating. Your brain runs through the practicalities of keeping agarose gels long-term.

Ryland, meanwhile, runs through every PG-13 insult known to man.

"Fudging - give it BACK, you JERK-" He swats at your arms. Ignoring this tantrum, you lovingly place the gel onto some tissue to dry off, and turn to face him. It is important that you see the look on his face for this.

"And behind us, dear viewers, you will see clear evidence that Doctor Ryland Grace, 33.33% of humanity's last hope, does not know how to load a gel-"

"Ohoho, you're in for it now-"

He redoubles his efforts, trying to stretch over you so he can bin the evidence. In your peripheral vision, you spot Rocky enter the room with an amused trill. He has probably heard the conversation and wishes to have a clearer view of whatever comes next. Better make sure the spectacle continues, then.

"-despite repeatedly claiming that he would never make such a silly mistake-" You press on, cackling at the frustrated noise your lecture draws out of Grace.

"Grace makes silly mistake all the time. It is no surprise he has done this."

"Correct, Rocky - Hey, Ryland! Don't destroy the evidence, I need to frame it!"

Grace ignores you - he's not going to stop until he's snatched that gel from its little tissue paper bed. You won't tolerate that.

He reaches over again, still failing to cover the distance. This is an easy opening; an opportunity to match his energy that you can't refuse.

Without a second thought, you dart your hand under his outstretched arm, and wiggle your fingers.

Ryland crumples, shrinking away with a screech.

You laugh at the wounded look on his face. He glares.

"Okay, that's it-"

What happens next is a bit of a blur - you know that Ryland makes one last scramble for the gel, and you know that Mary starts her usual spiel about conflict de-escalation, and you know that Rocky scuttles over, shouting something about not wanting anyone to get hurt. You don't really hear much of it though, because immediately after blocking Grace's lunge, he resorts to vibrating his fingers into your ribcage. Your hands reach out to retaliate, and both of you fall to the floor in an undignified pile of giggles and swearing.

"Let me hahave this!" You protest, trying not to reward Grace with a reaction as he trails his fingers over your tummy. He's sat over your legs, torso within easy reach - you take your chance, and squeeze at his stomach in return. You're immediately rewarded with a wide grin and an abundance of cackles.

"You lihittle-BUGGER-" Grace has folded over above you, making it even easier for you to keep tickling. You draw circles around his navel that make him go limp with laughter.

"I'm glad we're recording this, you're being adorable," You tease.

"MARY! MARY-!" He shrieks, hands struggling to keep prodding your sides. "DELEHETE RECORDING- NOHO-"

"Dohon't listen to him, Mary," You speak calmly over Grace, shifting one hand to tickle his ears and grinning when he becomes conflicted over which spot he should be defending. "In fact, make three backups."

"Backup in progress," She chirps.

Ryland is too far gone to do anything about this - you snort at the way he's blushing, trying to hide his face in your neck, and- oh no.

...He's not hiding.

The sound of him taking in a deep breath, paired with the light brush of his stubble, is the only warning you have for the horrific raspberry Ryland blows against your neck.

It's awful - the sensation completely shortcircuits your brain, your arms turning to jelly as all your body can do is scream it tickles it tickles it tickles. You don't even have the wherewithal to moderate your reactions, loud belly laughter flowing into the lab before you can think to tamper it. Somehow, you've managed to keep tickling Grace, which is... not helping, actually, because he keeps laughing through the raspberry. Which tickles more.

"Oh no no no. This is bad for you." Rocky observes, ever helpful.

Then, finally - it's over. Ryland has to take a breath. You move as fast as you can, rolling out from under him to trap him in a hug. With no time to waste, you return the favour, leaning in and blowing a raspberry of your own.

"WAITwaitwait-" He squeals, then wheezes, then giggles. It's incredibly endearing.

"Nope!" You pull away, hands squeezing at his sides. Grace scrambles to get up off the floor, and you follow, backing him against the counter. He shoots you a nervous grin, and you don't give him time to do anything more than that - you crawl your hands upwards, to his highest ribs, and wriggle in the space between the bones. Grace leans forwards, head resting on your shoulder as he laughs, the occasional snort punctuating his high-pitched wheezing.

And then, like clockwork, the revenge arrives - through his laughter, Ryland's hands creep over your torso, scritching gently at your sides. Soon, both of you are doubled over against the other, fighting to gain the upper hand.

"Ha- I'm keeping that gel!"

"You are NOHOT!"

"I absolutely am!" You're about to explain why, too, when Grace shoves his hands under your arms, and you start sinking down.

"Rocky think you are losing. Grace making you laugh a lot. Keeping gel is...unlikely."

Well, isn't that nice?

"He's right, you know. Gihive it up and I'll go easier on you. Maybe." The smug tone in Grace's voice makes you renew your efforts out of spite, fingers finding purchase on his sides. It's not enough, though - you both return to the floor, and Ryland swiftly pins your arms above your head.

"Rocky, Rohocky help-" You kick out your legs and shoot him a pleading look.

"No, Rocky not help. Last time Rocky help, Grace figured out Eridian tickling. Is too high risk."

Grace chuckles at that, and gives Rocky a warning look. "Wise decision, bud."

He turns back to face you, a glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

"Now, I'm gonna count to five, and if you agree to never speak of this again, I won't tickle you. Sound good?"

You shake your head.

"Fuck you."

It goes very, very quiet.

Okay, maybe that wasn't the smartest idea.

Ryland traces a lazy path over your stomach that makes your breath hitch, and leans in, muttering a single word.

"Language."

All hell breaks loose. His hands poke and prod and squeeze erratically over your torso, each touch designed to gauge your reaction before moving onto the next spot.

"Ha-Ryland- no!" Through your hysterics, you can see him logging the way his movements make you squirm.

He doesn't stop - rather, decides to make things worse. "Why, does it tickle?"

Oh god.

"Shut UP, you PRICK-" Swearing has done wonders for you so far. Surely more is the answer here.

"Ohoho, you've gone so red," He chuckles, thumb drilling into your second rib. "Don't like when I say that, huh?"

You are rapidly losing your ability to speak, and there's a growing warmth on your cheeks that you suspect is a blush.

"Alright, so we know this tickles," He murmers, breath tickling your ear. His hand moves higher, under your arm.

"Doesss this tickle?"

You blindly nod your head yes, hoping he'll move spots. Instead, he changes tact, his touch becoming lighter. Your laugh becomes a lot squeakier.

"I can't hear you," He grins. "Does it tickle?"

"I'm-" You grit your teeth. "I'm going to kill you-"

The laughter he's drawing from you is out of control, and just forming those words takes monumental resolve.

Grace doesn't have any issues talking, though - content with the shade of red he's turned you, he switches to providing a running commentary.

"And here, dear viewers," He smirks, scribbling over a spot near your hips that makes your back arch, "You will see clear evidence that the other 33.33% of humanity's last hope is hopelessly ticklish."

"Grahace! GRACE!" You yelp, using your feet to try and slide backwards along the floor. Ryland follows, of course, highly amused by the theatrics.

"Yeah?" He grins, slowing slightly.

You try to wipe the smile from your face, but it's stuck firm.

"I cahan't-"

"Can't what? Can't talk? I noticed." He lets your hands go, probably out of pity, but walks two fingers over your stomach just to keep you guessing. It's enough to keep you giggling in anticipation.

"Okay, okay, you win-" You gasp, trying to sit up and shuffle away.

"Oh, I do, do I? Thank you for pointing that out." Grace laughs, adjusting his glasses, which have nearly fallen off in the scuffle. He takes pity on you though, and offers a hand to help you up.

"Whatever. Mary, delete recording," You mutter, taking the offered assistance.

"Recording deleted."

"Appreciated," Ryland gives you a cordial nod, heading over to the bench.

"...Wait, where's the gel?"

"...Humans were taking too long fighting. Got bored."

"Rocky-"

"Grace pipetting technique bad bad bad. Gel punctured in several areas." Rocky holds up the agarose, which is now housed in a beautiful xenonite case. He's even had the time to fill it with the appropriate solution. Maybe you did take too long.

"Oh, for goodness' sake-" Ryland puts his head in his hands. "Fine, keep it. But we are never talking about this again."

"Don't need to. We keep next to gel area. Reminder."

"Excellent idea," You grin, still holding onto a nearby table for support.

"From now on," Grace points at you, "I'm not checking your gels for you."

"Good, I mean...You can't exactly be trusted anymore, can you?"

He raises his eyebrow at you. It's a challenge, daring you to say another word. His fingers twitch, almost imperceptibly. The message is loud and clear: Do you really want to do this again?

Alright, maybe not today. You'll give it a few days before teasing Ryland about it.

After all, you never deleted the backup videos. You'll be needing those.

[kitkatfingers]

bursting colours when you laugh

pairing: ryland grace x reader (intended as platonic)

summary: it really wasn't your fault that ryland's reactions were so entertaining. what else were you supposed to do.

warnings: no use of y/n, gn reader, ler!reader, lee!grace - but also switch!reader and switch!grace, reader is a fiend and a menace, ryland is cutieful (until he isn't)

word count: 2.3k

authors notes: sickos at window meme yess ha ha ha YESS!

///

Ryland had that look in his eyes.

You've started calling it The Hopeful Fear, on account of how it made his ears pink and his shoulders tense.

You glanced at him sideways from your spot by the taumoeba samples.

He was hunched over the microscope, seemingly focused on the slide, but his hand had a slight tremor to it. You've seen it enough times to not be worried. It wasn't anxiety, but excitement.

As if sensing you looking, Ryland lifted his head away from the miscroscope by a fraction. The look he gave you was quick, and very telling.

Well, you supposed, you could help with that.

You pushed away from your samples and walked over to where Ryland was sitting. Casual, relaxed, hands in your pockets. You stopped at his shoulder, just slightly behind him, and leaned in a little.

"How's it going?" You asked, keeping your voice light and unassuming.

"Well," Ryland said, fiddling with the slide under the microscope nervously. "It hates nitrogen. But we already knew that."

"Nothing new, then?" You leaned in a little closer, still. Ryland shot you a quick look at the proximity.

"No. I'm afraid not." He sighed, hand drifting to fiddle with a stray pen on the lab table.

"Hm." You hummed idly.

Ryland kept still, not leaning away, but not coming closer either.

With a swift movement, you connected your mouth to the side of his neck and blew a quick, sharp raspberry against his skin.

The yelp that left him - loud and undignified - had you grinning.

He tumbled off his stool, to his feet, tripping in his hurry to get away from you. He turned to look at you, hand braced against the table, the other raised halfway up in front of him. Just in case you meant to follow him.

You straightened, and stayed put.

"Why-" He stuttered. His ears were getting pink.

"Hm?" You raised your eyebrows, feinging ignorance.

"Wh-" His eyes flickered back and forth between your face and your hands, which were still in your pockets. "What was that for?"

You shrugged. "You looked like you needed it."

Ryland's ears turned redder.

He was just starting to stutter out denials and accusations - something like: "you couldn't possibly know such a thing", and: "what does that even mean, that makes no sense!" - when your taumoeba samples chirped from their analysis machine. You turned your head to look at the blinking yellow light. You turned back to Ryland. He had stood up straight, but still had The Hopeful Fear flittering about his face.

"Duty calls." You said simply, turning on your heel to get to your samples.

You snapped a pair of gloves on, and got to work, carefully extracting the taumoeba samples from the machine. After a moment, you heard Ryland shuffle back to his seat.

You pretended not to notice him watching you.

@

Ryland and Rocky were bickering.

Ryland stood in front of Rocky's tunnel, the one that led through the corridor and was at about Ryland's head-height. He had his hands planted firmly on his hips, assuming his full Teacher Persona.

"Rocky, I just don't think it's a good idea." He said.

"Is good idea." Rocky replied, simply.

"Rock, buddy-"

"Grace stupid, statement."

"Hey!" Ryland's voice shifted into Scolding A Middle Schooler tone. "You can't call someone stupid just because they have a different opinion than you."

"Why, question?"

"Because it's rude."

"But is true. Grace stupid."

"I should put you in time out." Ryland threatened.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid."

You curled your fist in front of your mouth to cover up your laughter. You must not have been very successful, because Ryland whirled onto you with a pointed finger.

"Don't make me put you in time out, too." He said firmly. "Don't encourage him."

"You need to lighten up." You said, crossing your arms and leaning against the edge of the doorway.

"I'll 'lighten up' when he-" Ryland pointed upwards at Rocky "- comes to his senses."

"No, no, no Rocky senses, all correct," Rocky immediately argued, shaking his body in emphasis. "Grace senses stupid, leaky space blob no understand, stupid, stupid, stupid."

"I'm done here." Ryland threw his hands up and made his way to the doorway. "I'm not dealing with this."

You wrapped your arm around the front of his middle as he walked past you. He stopped, even though he could have easily kept on walking, and looked at you. He was frustrated, you could see that, but underneath that frustration was something more fragile.

"You need to lighten up." You repeated, maintaining eye contact.

He huffed. "That's not really helpf-UL-AGH!"

He folded in half, grunting, hands wrapping around your forearms. You kept squeezing at his wasit.

"I'll let you go if you laugh." You said, taking a step closer to get better leverage.

"Hhmmgh." Ryland responded, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Yes, yes, yes, make Grace laugh, statement." Rocky chimed in from his perch. "Make less stupid, statement."

"Hear that?" You turned to Ryland. "It'll do you good."

"No, it - hrrgh - won't!" He choked out, twitching against your hands, but making no other moves to escape.

"Come on!" You drawled, shifting your hands up to his ribs. "Laughter is the best medicine."

"That's pseudosciehehence!" Ryland gave in to giggling, high and hiccup-y.

"Actually," You said, digging further up under Ryland's arms to get at his underarms. "It's been proven that laughter helps relieve stress and boost immunity."

Ryland ducked his head close to his chest and let out a desparate whine.

You smirked. "But you already knew that."

"Okay, okahay!" Ryland's hands tighened on your arms, pinning them to your sides, effectively stopping your attack.

You watched him try to compose himself, smiling. He took a few deep breaths, and when he lifted his head, it wasn't with a glare, but another look of The Hopeful Fear.

You grinned knowingly.

"Quiet." He mumbled, pink all over, and released you. You turned to look at him over your shoulder as he stalked further through the Hail Mary.

@

You were in the pilot's seat, checking your trajectory, when you heard him.

"What the fudging - fudger -!"

You frowned, and whipped your head around to look behind you. Of course, you wouldn't have been able to see him, but you narrowed your eyes anyway, listening in closely.

There was a dull thump. Then another.

"What the heck is wrong with this - piece of - poop - !"

Okay.

If Ryland was PG-swearing at this intensity, something was not right.

You swivelled the pilot chair and climbed out. It took a few moments to locate him, given that he had suddenly fallen deathly silent, and no more thumping emerged from the depths of the ship. In the end, you found him in the lab.

There were two packs scattered near his feet, and Ryland himself was standing by an open hatch in the wall, his back to you. He was straining, reaching up as high as he could. He was even standing on tiptoes.

You paused. He hadn't noticed you.

"You okay over there?"

He startled, arms shooting down, torso twisting around to look behind him. Once he realised it was you, he let out a soft breath.

"There's extra test tubes in there." He explained, pointing up to the hatch. "I can't reach it."

You stepped fully into the room, a few paces away from where he stood. "You're, like, six feet tall." You observed. "How can you not reach something?"

"Oh, ha-ha." He made a face at you, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You waved your hand at him. "Don't let me interrupt."

He scoffed, but turned back to the hatch, reaching his arms up as far as they could go. The hem of his tshirt rose with the movement, exposing a sliver of skin on his abdomen. You looked at it, then glanced up at his face to confirm his focus on the task at hand.

Silently as possible, you side-stepped until you were behind Ryland, and wrapped your arms securely around his waist.

"Oh? What's going on-HEY!"

You scribbled your nails over the exposed skin of his navel. His arms shot down immediately in an attempt to shield himself. High pitched, wheezy laughter shook his body.

"Why do you dohoho thihis?" He complained, fingers scrabbling at your hands. His back pressed into your face slightly as he bent forward. You rested your cheek fully against his shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of his skin through his tshirt.

"Well, I like to do it." You shrugged a little. "I enjoy it."

Ryland twisted sharply, successfully disentangling himself from your embrace. You stumbled a little at his sudden movement.

Ryland had pressed his back tightly against the wall.

"Not a step closer." He ordered around a lingering smile and the ghost of a giggle.

You grinned, but stayed put at his request, even though the distance between you was that of only a few steps.

The Hopeful Fear was back in his eyes.

"I'm not sure you mean that." You said and, yeah, maybe you added a bit of a teasing lilt to your voice. It was worth it for the blush that rose in Ryland's face.

"Your days are numbered." He declared, raising his finger in warning.

You watched him with a grin as he shuffled sideways, back still pressed to the wall, watching you carefully, until he was far enough away to bolt.

@

It had been a hard day that had you and Ryland nearly spiralling into a full blown fight. Stress, close proximity, the weight of responsibility, being stuck in space. Sometimes the two of you got emotional.

Thankfully, you had figured out a protocol for days like these.

So, after wrapping up work as soon as voices became raised, the two of you settled into the routine.

Step one, go to the opposite ends of the ship to cool off.

Step two, talk it out.

Step three, food.

Step four, sleep.

Here you were, yours and Ryland's mattresses shoved together on the floor to make more space, tangled in every spare blanket, bodies close. Your feet tangled together loosely. You lay on your side, arm draped over Ryland's stomach. He was stretched out on his back, hand curled loosely around your knee where he had pulled your leg up over his. His breathing was deep and even.

You couldn't sleep.

Ryland's fingers curled lightly against the underside of your knee, tracing a delicate line over the skin there. Suddenly, you regretted wearing shorts to bed.

You stayed still, giving no indication that you felt his movement. Or that you were awake.

After a moment, the movement repeated.

You opened your eyes to look at him. His face was turned slightly towards you, eyes closed, expression relaxed. You closed your eyes again, burying your face deeper against your pillow.

Ryland was always a little twitchy, and that didn't stop when he was asleep. You had gotten used to his movements during sleep. For the most part. This was new.

Tap.

You frowned.

Tap, tap.

Was he tapping his finger into the curve of your knee?

Carefully - in case he really was asleep - you tilted your head back to look at him again.

His eyes were still closed, but now there was a smirk on his face.

"You-!" Your accusation got cut short, because the moment you spoke, Ryland was rolling himself on top of you, face burying into your neck to blow a long, drawn-out raspberry.

You would never admit to the sound you made at the sensation.

Ryland pulled back to look at you. "Vengeance."

"Oh, come on." You complained. "You needed that tickling and you know it."

"Did I?" He challenged, fingers resuming their tracing under your knee. Instinctively, you bent your leg, trapping his fingers. You didn't like the look on his face.

"Don't you know that when you seek revenge, you're only really hurting yourself?" You tried to reason. Ryland pursed his lips in mock sympathy.

He pulled his fingers from where they were trapped by your leg, and brought his hand up to your face. He took your jaw into his hand with a firm grip, maneouvering your head so that more of your neck was exposed.

He started leaning down.

"No, no, no- wait- Ryland-" Your pleading fell on deaf ears. You felt his stubble first, then cool air as he inhaled deeply. You grabbed hold of his wrist, your other hand gripping at the back of his hair.

He blew another long raspberry into your neck.

You scream-laughed. You were human enough to admit it.

But then he didn't pull back. Only started inhaling again. You closed your eyes, already feeling phantom tickling, laughter bubbling out of you.

This time, he blew three short raspberries one right after another.

Your legs kicked out against the mattress, one kicking him in the shin. You let go of his hair in favour of slapping your palm against his back repeatedly.

Ryland backed off only a fraction, still close enough that you felt his stubble. The breath of his laughter against your neck tickled nearly as bad. He released his grip on your jaw, instead using that hand to gently scratch behind your ear comfortingly.

You panted, dazed, staring up at the ceiling in the low light.

With one last, split-second of a raspberry that had you squawking, Ryland rolled off you.

"Remember this next time you hunt me down with tickling." He said.

"Next time," you informed him. "I'm making you admit you wanted me to do it."

You both turned your heads against your pillows, challenging each other with a look.

In the end, it was Ryland who caved, scoffing to cover up his blush and throwing an arm around you. You let him pull you in, hiding your own blush by tucking your head underneath his chin.

There would be no winners tonight.

[lovelynim]

Best medicine

Love and Deepspace - Zayne & Reader x Sylus

A/N: Based on the poll's results, I believe this is the duo most of you wanted to see again, so here it is as a treat. Also, big thanks for @/vqler for helping me out with the plot behind this one

Oh, and big thanks too to @/ticklygiggles for introducing me to this amazing writing platform that helped me with my productivity and for beta reading the fic for me

Summary: Sylus is complaining about some weird pain, so you ask for Zayne's help to figure it out

Word count: 2247 words

[Also on Ao3]

"You're overreacting," Sylus insisted while you parked the car. With arms crossed before his chest, he looked around Akso's hospital parking lot. Of course, he thought, of all possible places you could've taken him to, this was the one you decided on.

He groaned quietly, but like a spoiled child, when the passenger door opened and forced him to meet your concerned gaze. "Come on, Sylus," you hurried him, your foot tapping the ground, impatient. As there was no sign of him moving, you leaned over and into the car to drag him out of it. "You're not going to tell me you're afraid of doctors, are you?"

"Don't be silly, kitten," he muttered — it was not like it was going to make any difference if he was, anyway. "But this is a clearly waste of time. You know I don't need it."

"You do," you corrected him, taking the lead and pulling his hand to make him keep up with your pace, "you said yourself the pain didn't go away this time."

"Tsk."

This was not how it was supposed to go. Now that he thought about it, Sylus was the one to blame for listening to Luke and Kieran's stupid idea. Why would he, of all people, be in pain when he could simply heal himself? "Trust us, boss, you'll be pampered day and night", the twins would promise and insist as they tried to push Sylus into this idea. And they did, eventually.

All he had to do — according to the brains behind this plan — was to limp a little around you, whine and moan whenever you looked at him and pull up a pitiful facade while talking to you. Those, combined, were supposed to make you care a little more for him and encourage you to spend more time with him than with the others.

But that didn't happen. It did make you worry, but not in the domestic, cuddly way he expected. Instead of spoon-feeding him, you forced him to take the pain pills you had around your place; instead of pampering him rotten, you demanded him to resonate his evol with yours over and over, trying to see if it would help him heal the imaginary pain; and instead of letting him stay over at your place, you were now dragging him to the hospital.

"It will go away on its own," Sylus tried to argue, but it felt like he was throwing words at a wall instead of you. "I will be fine."

You sighed, pulling at his hand while still being careful to not hurt him — wherever the source of the pain was. "It's been days, Sylus, and your evol isn't working. We need to know what's going on with you."

"Aren't you scared they will call the Association on me the moment you give away my identity, kitten?" He suggested, unable to hold back that usual confident smirk from taking place in his face. "Or is this your plan to submit me to your hunters colleagues?"

You stopped walking, letting go of his hand. For a moment, Sylus thought he had draw the right card after all those attempts, but the look on your face said otherwise.

"What do you take me for?" You arched an eyebrow, pressing your finger at his chest while looking up to his stupidly handsome face. "Why do you think I brought you here of all places?"

"Because this is the place covered by your insurance?" He joked, but it didn't seem amused at it.

"Idiot," you rolled your eyes, "Zayne works here. He can get you checked while I keep you out of the jail. You just need to wait while I talk to the staff and then we-"

"Wait," Sylus frowned, holding your hand, "that doctor works here?"

"Yes," you nodded casually, "now hurry up, we need to get to him before the end of his shift," you said and was already dragging him by his hand again, barely giving him time to process how badly that plan was going to end.

If the fact that you were seeking for professional help instead of cuddling with him at home wasn't bad enough, you were going to force him to meet that guy of all people. And worse, ask Zayne to take care of him in your place? If he wasn't feeling sick before, now his stomach was surely turning upside down.

Sylus was already unwilling to comply before, but he still managed to, somehow, make it even more difficult now. Making it past the front door felt as difficult as one of those Hunters' Contest stages and stopping Sylus from running away while you talked to Yvonne proved to be another whole battle of its own.

After what felt like eternity, you were, finally, walking into Zayne's office to meet the man himself. He looked up from a pile of documents, his eyes meeting yours with a soft tenderness. "You arrived early today," Zayne started, elegantly taking off his glasses, "I'll only be out in half an hour from now."

"I know," you sighed, looking over your shoulder and giving Sylus a look through the gap on the half opened door, "but I guess it's a good thing you're still on duty."

"Yvonne told me a thing or two in advance," Zayne nodded and you thanked the greater forces above that he was still as reliable as ever, "she said you needed a favor? Is it related to your health?"

"Not mine, a friend's," you giggled nervously and scratched your cheek, "he's… been having a weird pain and I thought you could check him up? Just so we know what direction we should follow."

"Mhm," Zayne nodded, "a friend of yours is a friend of mine, too. Ask him to come in," he added, pushing himself up and picking a pair of sterilized gloves and the stethoscope. "I hope I can be of help, but we should be able to figure out what kind of pain is… it… at least…"

Zayne's voice faded the moment he turned around, meeting not a friend of yours on the examination table, but rather a… he sighed, not knowing what word would be the fittest to describe Sylus.

"Hello, doctor," Sylus purred, leaning on his hands and tilting his head to the side to look at Zayne, "she said you can fix me."

"Sylus," Zayne nodded, sliding his hand under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Stay professional, he repeated inside his head before he looked up to you, who was standing next to the table. "I'm a physician, not a saint to perform miracles, but I will do my best."

You looked back and forth between the two men, wondering if this was a demonstration of friendly bickering or hostile politeness. Still, much to your happiness, Zayne walked towards you and Sylus, snapping the elastic around the wrist of his glove. "So, what seems to be the problem, Mr. Sylus?"

"It-"

"He is in pain, Zayne," you interrupted, already feeling like Sylus would come up with anything but the truth. "Today he woke up complaining about an ache on his thighs. Yesterday, it was his back, and then his shoulders on the day before."

"That, doctor," Sylus sighed, crossing his arms.

"It's natural to feel pain at these parts at an advanced age," Zayne suggested with a small, sly smirk. Sylus frowned. "But they are usually concentrated around the same area. To have them changing from day to day it's a bit unusual."

"Right?!" You gasped, finally someone acknowledging the matter with the proper concern. "A-and there is something else, too!"

"Kitten, pleas-"

"You see, Sylus can use his evol to heal himself, but it's not working this time," you explained while gesticulating, not noticing how Zayne was more amused by your speech than worried about the "patient" you brought to him. "…but it just won't work!"

Zayne shook his head, snapping back into reality. He could hear Sylus scoffing, probably because he noticed what happened, but that man wasn't really the priority for the doctor at that moment. "Well, let me have a proper look, in that case. If anything, I'll send you two to a specialist on the matter."

Sylus rolled his eyes and turned his face away. "I knew this would be a waste of time," he taunted, but peeked through the corner of his eye.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sylus," Zayne chuckled, hooking the stethoscope around his neck as he already discarded any hypothesis that would need the tool. He had a guess, but still needed to confirm it. "It's just a physical exam. Where did you say you were feeling pain today?"

"On my legs, doctor," Sylus grinned, spreading his thighs as he leaned back even more. "It was a torture to come all the way here just to see you, but I was forced to."

"Stop messing around," you smacked him on the shoulder and he chuckled. Zayne kept the straight, serious facade as he looked at both of you.

Without another word, he walked forward, narrowing the distance between him and Sylus — getting close enough to pay back some of the discomfort he felt with Sylus's shameless behavior. He placed one hand over Sylus's right leg, his fingers pressing the skin through the cloth.

"H-hey now, doctor, at least buy me a dinner firs-"

"Does it hurt here?" Zayne interrupted, his eyes fixed on Sylus's face while he rolled his thumb a little, massaging the spot just above the kneecap.

"It dohoesn- caham, it doesn't."

"Right," Zayne smiled calmly and looked at you like a professor doing a demonstration to his students. He slid his hand up Sylus's leg, his fingers slowly reaching to the top of his thigh.

And despite his best efforts, Zayne's hand was barely a palm away from Sylus's knee when the latter kicked up his leg, the reaction strong enough to make him nearly jump out of the examination table. Sylus groaned, "careful, doctor," and whined.

"I might've just struck a nerve, nothing to make a fuss over, Mr. Sylus," he explained, his fingers beginning to squeeze and pinch Sylus's leg again. "You see, I think I might have discovered a thing or two just now."

Great, Sylus thought, this was about to be over. He looked down at Zayne's hand on his leg and then back and forth between you and the doctor. Obviously, it didn't hurt — there was no pain to begin with — but it tickled, awfully so. Sylus felt the urge to coil his leg and kick Zayne away at each circle Zayne's thumb pressed into his thigh. His fingers skittered and caressed the clothed skin in a way that forced a crooked, nervous smile on Sylus's face. It was bad to the point that he knew he had to cover his mouth and fake a cough or two, just so his cover wouldn't be blown. Or so he thought.

"And what is it, Zayne?" You asked, your eyes filled with curiosity as you could swear Sylus was… trembling?

"Well, the good news is that I believe there is nothing wrong with Mr. Sylus. At least, from a medical perspective," he explained, barely putting effort to conceal the mockery.

"Y-yohou are the reheal pain, dohoctor," Sylus retorted, trying to stiff himself and stop any other embarrassing giggle to come out.

"And the bad news?"

"They are not really bad," Zayne chuckled, looking at both you and Sylus, "not for you at least. Well, Mr. Sylus is quite ticklish."

"N-nohonsehense!"

"You're laughing like a kid and I'm barely trying," Zayne insisted, clawing a little harder at the top of Sylus's thigh and, in a matter of seconds, he found his wrist being tightly held by his patient, forcing him to stop. "See?"

"You-"

"Wait, for real?" You muttered. You were still processing the fact that Sylus was most likely faking the whole thing for the past days, but the new information that Zayne just delivered to you on a silver plate felt much, much more appealing. "Ticklish?"

"See it for yourself," Zayne nodded, making room for you before Sylus could even move away, "his legs are quite sensitive and I supposed the rest should be about the same."

"W-wahait, I dihidn't say you cohohould!" Sylus groaned, letting go of Zayne's hand to stop yours while trying to back into the examination table and move away from the couple before him. "Thihis is h-hahAHaharassment, I want to caha- HEhey!"

Sylus turned his head and growled quietly at Zayne, the sound spilling along with some giggles through his gritted teeth. It was far from enough to convince him or you to stop, but at least it made Zayne pull his hand away from his side. "B-bohohoth of you, stohohop it!"

"What? No way," you shook your head, gladly taking Zayne's lead and placing your hands on each of Sylus's thighs, tickling both of them at the same time. "You've been a pain 'til now, this is the best thing that happened today!"

"K-kihihitten, it wahahas hurting, I swehe- AGH, d-dohohoctor, gehehet off thehere!" Sylus gasped, his back arching when Zayne got a hold of his arm and managed to sneak some tickles on his ribs and under his arm.

"In that case, Mr. Sylus, I believe we shouldn't stop just yet," Zayne grinned, "laughter is the best medicine, after all, and I'm sure it will do wonders in your case."