Disclaimer: This post contains SFW tickles! If you do not like it, SCROLL!!!
A/N: if only there was more of a nevermoor tickle community 😔 heads up this is just 90% lee hcs I canNOT think of this girl as a ler for the life of her 😭
___
being a cursed child absolutely ROBBED this girl of normal childhood experiences which included tickles which means she has ZERO experience on it 😭
heard of it as a kid but only really knew it was suppose to make you laugh
Hawthorne introduced it to her during the first year they met while the trials were taking place after he tickle attacked her and she ABSOLUTELY PANICKED
was twisting around like “what was that?”
Hawthorne was DEVIOUS to find out that she had zero experience (since baby Dave was either an infant or still baking he couldn’t do big brother shenanigans)
has a crooked and adorable smile and a laugh equally as adorable that when got good gets brighter and cackles
Jupiter teases her by calling it her silly face
went from never encountering a wiggly finger at all to having basically every person she knows become absolute menaces in this matter
she starts giggling whenever someone wiggles her fingers at her
that’s how Anah gets her to cooperate whenever Morrigan does something stupid and injures herself
has very middle-younger (leaning heavily on younger) sibling energy so just imagine that and put it into persepctive
Is literally a walking tickle spot
but her worst spots are between her shoulder blades, back of ribs, and the soles of her feet
her sides and hands are a sweet spot
her knees are really good too but not as good as her worst spots but more ticklish than her sides and hands
919 likes to sneak up on her and poke her in the ribs or spider her side
Arch LOVES drawing on her hands because of it, she agrees to let him everytime
she squeaks and meeps when she’s getting tickled and KNOWS it’s only gonna get worse from there
she squirms a lot when getting tickled trying to wave off the sensation
”ihihiht tihihihickles sohoho bahahad!”
likes tickles but will never admit it
one time Jack did the egg crack thing on her knee and she lost it
speaking of Jack, HE’S FUCKING EVIL
everytime he visits it’s like a roulette to see if he wants to absolutely wreck her or not
she’s always nervous and giddy whenever he visits unless he tells her he won’t or until he tickles her to pieces
he’s a “how to tickle mog” encyclopedia
teases like “awwhh! That’s adorable!” Or “never knew a wundersmith can have such a weakness” makes her weak in the knees
Teases that lets her know or makes her feel loved and just “Mog” gets her good
Tickle games or tricks get her good too
”Ok, let’s do rib counting” and then her ler just vibrates their fingers in her death spot
”can you get that for me?”
”If you can hold your laughter for me for 30 seconds i won’t tickle you for an entire week”
she always tries to win the tickle games even though she never does so
It just makes her lers fond if her even more
tried to tickle Jack back once, she got tickled to bits
as a ler she might get carried away with her lee
she does her best not to
does softer or harder tickles depending on her lee
TEASY as SHIT
learnt it from the bajillion times she was a lee lol
‘You’re Never Fully Heard Without A Laugh’ Series [Tumblr Masterpost | AO3]
Hazbin Hotel | Murdermedia [Human!Alastor x Human!Vincent] to Sparks Duo [Past Alastor x CRT Vox]
Summary: Now that they're reunited, they have some catching up to do (tickling, lots of tickling. this is a tickle fic)
Warnings: none! (that i can think of)
REMINDER THAT THIS BLOG WILL BE DELETED (eventually) AND ALL MY FICS WILL BE ON AO3 FOREVER.
>>>BOOKMARK MY AO3 HERE<<<
---
His little laughing fit didn't end for a while, only ceasing when Alastor playfully growled in his ear. "Should I give you something to really laugh about?"
"Oh, doll, we'll see whose the one laughing." Vincent's hands travelled beneath Alastor's rear and hoisted him up. Years of familiarity took over and his partner instantly wrapped his legs around his waist. "Let's take this to the bedroom, hm?" He didn't wait for a response, he was already walking to his favorite room in the house.
Alastor grinned something suspicious. "Are you sure this is the way to the bedroom?"
He scoffed. "Uh, yeah? I know the house, Al." He walked up to that same door he always knew, and opened it...
Well. That was unexpected.
"What the Hell?" Vincent shouted as Alastor snickered.
That was no bedroom. That was the goddamn bayou. Cicadas chirped, leaves rustled, toads croaked. The trees, the grass, the heat, it was like he was really there.
"Did you just have a portal to Earth this whole fucking time?!" He sputtered. If it was indeed a portal, his partner had some massive explaining to do. Mostly why their time together after his death was so brief and why he had to manage a fresh kill every two weeks.
"Don't be silly, dear. It's simply a copy from my memory."
"Yeah cause that makes so much more sense, forgive me. How could I have forgotten your memory manifestation powers?" His voice was bathed in sarcasm.
"A little trick of mine, nothing to worry your square little head about." Alastor giggled at Vincent's deadpan look. "Go to what was our guest room in life, that's the new master bedroom."
With a roll of his eyes, Vincent kicked the door closed and carried his little shit of a partner to the new bedroom. When he opened that door, he sighed. That was more familiar. And oh how good it felt to share this room once again. With a light jog, he tossed Alastor onto the bed who squeaked and laughed happily at the bounce he made. Vincent wasted no more time before pouncing, clambering on top of him with playful growls and sweet kisses peppered over his face. Alastor continued giggling under the onslaught of affection, laughing even louder as pointy claws gently skittered up his sides.
"Ohoho nohoho yohohou dohohon't." Alastor grabbed Vincent's hands and pushed them back, locking them in a test of strength. Vincent quickly found he wasn't stronger like when they were both alive, and he wasn't weaker like when he summoned Alastor in the rituals, they were matched, keeping them in a standstill.
But he knew how to end that. He leaned down and nibbled at his neck. It was much more difficult now with all the extra bulk, but Alastor's demon form was flexible, allowing his neck to bend for Vincent's new sharp teeth to reach one of his many weak points. As soon as he began rapidly nibbling along the side of his throat, Alastor bleated and erupted into happy snorty laughter.
He missed certain things about Al from when he was alive, sure, but the bleats were beyond adorable.
"Ohohoho GOHOHOD!" Alastor cackled and released Vincent's hands in order to harshly push at his chest.
"What's the matter?" Vincent placed his hands on the mattress for a better angle. "Too ticklish for some itty bitty nibbles? Then maybe I should tryyyy..." His exaggerated inhale was enough to pull frantic protests from Alastor before sending him into hysteria with a loud raspberry.
"DEHEHEAR HEAVANS! SNRK! THAHAT'S BAHAHAD!"
Vincent snorted and hummed into his skin. "You seem extra ticklish today. What gives?"
"Thahahat stahahatic! SNRK!" He giggled and snorted whilst squirming like a worm on a hook.
"Ohhhhh," Vincent gleefully said. "My static electricity is extra tingly? Good to know." He crept his fingers to gently skim over his sides. His shirt dampened the ticklish sensations but it was enough to keep him grinning ear-to-ear. "Think we can take your top off? Shirt and overcoat? You never let me do that when I was alive. Just what are you hiding, dollface?"
"F-Fihihihine!" He tittered. Vincent sat back and allowed Alastor the space to shimmy off his coat and shirt. "I'll allow it. You've been so patient to wait until after death."
He watched with shameless adoration and lust as Alastor stripped his upper body bare.
Oh, Lord.
Chest fluff. His belly was covered with a very fine layer of fur, but his chest was much more pronounced with longer fluffier fur.
Vincent wasted no time plunging his hand into the patch of fur.
Oh, if he thought his belly fur was soft, this was another level.
"I figured you'd be taken by something as silly as fur on my chest." Alastor sounded a familiar mix of smug and fond. He laid back, letting Vincent explore the new discovery.
"Not silly. Amazing. Incredible. Perfect." He leaned down and nuzzled his chest, letting that soft fur envelope his screen. He could still feel through the glass, and the gentle tickle of silky-soft fur felt like heaven.
He heard that fizzling sound again and grinned, knowing what that meant. When he leaned back, sure enough, his fur was standing on end, full of static electricity.
"Pffftaha! This static thing is amazing. You look so cute all poofed up!"
"That'll get old quick."
"Not a chance. Now come here." He grabbed those furry shoulders and yanked Alastor into a hug sitting up. He nuzzled and kissed his neck, letting the static fluff up his hair as his partner shrieked and snorted happily in his arms.
Some motion caught his eye. A blur of red and black. Vincent looked down, and peeking out of his pants...
"YOU HAVE A TAIL?!" He shouted like a child on Christmas morning. "A cute fluffy little deer tail? And it WAGS?!"
He could hear the smugness in Alastor's voice. "Was that worth the wait?"
"By a mile! By ten thousand miles!" He brought his hands down to cup the fluffy appendage. So soft, so fluffy, so adorable. "Hmmm... do the tickles make it wag?" He nuzzled back into the spot at his throat, giving it light nibbles while he watched the tail out of the corner of his eye. Yep it started rapidly swishing side to side.
"Snrk! Yohohohours wahahahags tohohohoo!"
Now that he mentioned it, Vincent could feel his tail wagging side to side along the bed. Although instead of being an adorable tiny tuft of fur it was a firm rubber cord with metal prongs at the end. Significantly less cute. Significantly more in danger of whipping the side of their legs.
"My tail is irrelevant, little deer. I've got you right where I want you. No more surprises."
There was that grin again. The 'fucking with Vincent' grin.
There was a tap on his shoulder. He scoffed.
"Nice try, Al, I know your body's all weird and bendy. That's probably just your foo-OOF!" The wind was knocked out of Vincent as something cold grabbed his middle, squeezed tight, and knocked him flat on his back. As the world went sideways and his heavy tv case thumped against the mattress, Vincent would swear his eyes were swirls as he tried to figure which way was up again.
Well, 'up' was probably where those tentacles were.
...Tentacles?
"Wait- the fuck?!" Vincent sputtered. Two large inky black tentacles hovered above him. Alastor sat up, one leg crossed over the other, and waved his little fingers at him. The jerk.
"I hope you didn't think my fluffy deer features were your only surprise this evening?"
Alastor ignored Vincent's eloquent 'uhhhh' as he continued.
"I admit, this is something I've been awaiting eagerly." He snapped his fingers and the two appendages wrapped around his wrists and hoisted them above his head, pressed to the bedding.
Then two MORE appeared and stationed themselves just a mere inch above his ribs.
He couldn't help but giggle like a little kid, lightly squirming with a big silly grin. "N-Now come on, Al. This is a little excessive, don't you think?" He chomped down on his lip like a lifeline. Wait, was it a lip? Screen? Oh who cares, he just needed to press his teeth into something to try and suppress his goofy sounding giggles.
"Hmm? Excessive? Compared to what? Maybe... to that time i made you count to eighty while i targeted your armpits? Orrrr when we learned how hard you laughed from a spiny hairbrush? or how about that time i used two hairbrushes at once on both your underarms? Funny. All three of those instances you didn't call out our stopping word, 'mulberry'. That doesn't sound excessive to me, now does it?"
Vincent was burning with fluster, lightly kicking his feet and wriggling with nerves and excitement. "You know what I mean!" His voice came out whiny and high-pitched.
Alastor hummed again, acting like he was deep in thought. "All that whining seems to be jogging my memory but i still haven't the foggiest clue what you mean by 'excessive'."
Those tentacles slowly crept downwards. As soon as they touched down on his ribs and Vincent jumped from the cold, they began lightly pressing and poking over each rib bone.
The ticklish sensations washed over him with a flood of nostalgia and comfort so strong he almost started crying. He was here again, on the bed, with his partner, laughing and squirming with that teasing grin eyeing him. It was the same story with new visuals, a story he would never tire of reliving.
His laughter grew very quickly from happy giggles to loud laughter. He didn't fight it for a moment, simply surrendering his mind and body to ticklish merriment. A loud thump-thump-thump rang out, both of them quickly spotting it was Vincent's tail happily wagging against the bed.
"Hm, Excessive... oh! Would... this spot count as excessive?" Both tentacles pressed firmly into his lowest ribs prompting an amusingly loud squeal along with helpless wriggling and squeaking.
"EEE! Not there! Al, I'm so ticklish there!" His protests were more hollow than a rotting cypress log and they both knew it.
A genuine chuckle. "Oh, I know quite well, my dear, and that's exactly why it's our next destination."
Damn those maddening little circles, massaging into his floating ribs. He arched his back and shrieked with desperate laughter, kicking and thrashing this way and that.
Zzt. ZZZT!
The sound of sparking electricity.
"How curious, your little antennae... they're sparking!"
Abruptly, the tickling stopped. The tentacles attacking his ribs simply held their place above them. Vincent whined in obvious disappointment, not bothering to hide it.
Alastor laughed loudly. "Don't worry, Pet, we'll continue. I just wanted to see if it affected the sparking, and it does!" He maneuvered closer to Vincent and reached a claw to his antennae... which Vincent still hadn't actually seen, and ran his claw along the tip.
His whole body shivered and his breath caught in his throat.
"Oh?" Alastor grinned like he'd found a new weakness to exploit, which knowing him, he probably had.
Vincent's breath was a shudder. "They're... sensitive, apparently."
"Sensitive how?" He asked with narrow eyes.
"Kinda like my sides when I was alive... but even more. Tingly and-"
He was cut off by Alastor running his claw up and down one of the antennae. He could swear his eyes rolled back in his... screen? He turned to jelly on the bed, eyelids fluttering.
"Oh my, what an interesting development."
Along his trail he seemed to have stimulated a few specific nerves, maklng Vincent's smile quirk up and a few small chuckles escape.
"Oh, that kind of sensitive, hm?"
"A... a little. M-mostly just... feels nice." His words were close to a slur. If he had the capacity to he was sure he'd be drooling.
Alastor hummed and leaned closer, speaking softly and low. "Relax, Vincent."
"Don't... hafta tell m'twice..."
He got even closer, relaxing onto the bed beside him with his head held close to his. "Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in.... breathe out..."
Vincent followed along thoughtlessly. It was like every muscle was just turning to pudding. His brain was tingling in the most delightful way. It was like a really good buzz after a few drinks, but softer and calmer.
"Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... breathe... OUT!" Next thing Vincent knew those claws of Alastor's were viciously clawing at his underarms.
He screamed absolute bloody murder before erupting in forceful cackling with every muscle in his body.
"AAAAIIIE! WAHAHAITWAITWAIT WAHAHAHAHAIT! FUHU- AHAHA!" He screeched in pure hysteria, his body thrashing like a fish about to be gutted.
ZZT! BZZZZT!
The top of his case heated and crackled and Alastor flinched back with a quick bleat. Through his hysterics he could see a bit of smoke coming off one of Alastor's fluffy ears.
"AHA- AHAHARE YOHOHOU- EEEEE- OHOHOKAY?!"
Alastor chuckled, not stopping his tickle attack in the slightest. "Don't worry your giggly little head, Squeaks. I've been through much worse pain than your little shock." He gently flicked his ear. Vincent could now see the tip has been singed. "A small burn. Nothing that won't heal in time."
"IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY!"
"It's adorable that you insist on apologizing whilst laughing yourself into a tizzy."
"IHIHIHEEEHEHE- WOHOHOHORRY AHAHABOUT YOHOU!"
"I know you do, mon cher. As I do you. Now... enough with the sentiment."
The tickling stopped, letting Vincent desperately suck in gulps of air as his body went slack. But Alastor wouldn't let him get too comfortable, because the tentacles before reminded him of their presence by resting on his lower ribs. Meanwhile ANOTHER pair of tentacles (How many tentacles did he have? Infinity??) slithered up his upper rib cage. And on top of all that, Alastor had his hands resting at his underarms.
"Laugh," He said in a borderline snarl, eyes darkening and shifting into the shape of radio dials. "Laugh until you can't remember your own name."
Vincent swallowed and smiled nervously. "...I think you'll be able to help me accomplish just that."
No more words. The four tentacles and Alastor's claws all got to work tormenting his terribly ticklish nerves.
He screamed- screamed like his goal was to rip his throat to shreds -and absolutely lost his mind. He howled in hysteria, tears immediately threatening to spill. He thrashed with every ounce of muscle in his body, the tentacles struggling to keep him contained as his tail whipped and flailed every which way.
He loved it: Loved the thrill; loved the rush; loved the ache in his stomach; and most of all, loved the man putting him through it all.
It went on and on, putting Vincent's new form through an absolute workout. His nerves, throat, and muscles were all being pushed to their limits through their silly little tickle games, and Vincent was having the time of his life, or afterlife.
After what felt like a lifetime of tickling, it all stopped, leaving him floundering at the lack of physical sensation. His head was so fuzzy he could swear his brain got electrocuted.
"I think that's enough for my little squeaky toy, don't you think?"
Vincent was gasping for breath, body completely slack against the mattress. Almost immediately he could feel the heaviness in his eyelids and call of slumber at the edges of his mind.
Alastor snickered. "You look about 2 minutes away from falling asleep."
"No," his voice was whiny and raspy, "so much more to do... to catch up on."
"We have eternity down here, Squeaks, as I've reminded you many times. Rest. You will wake up on this same bed with me beside you."
"Promise?" He spoke hoarsely, eyes big and pleading.
Alastor smiled something painfully genuine. "Promise." He leaned down and pressed a heart-wrenchingly soft kiss on his screen, just beside his mouth. "Let's get you ready for bed, hm?"
Vincent nodded and started to hoist himself up but Alastor pressed a hand to his chest to keep him down. Before he could ask how the Hell he was supposed to get ready while laying down, Alastor snapped his fingers and...
"Whoa..." Vincent looked down at his body which had magically been changed into pajamas in an instant. They were nice, too, just like the silk ones they wore when they were alive. And a navy blue... God he could be sweet when he wanted. "Can you just... summon anything you want with your fingers?" His voice was still uncomfortably hoarse, but no one could say Vincent Whittman didn't have good pain tolerance.
"More or less," Alastor responded, "We can discuss more tomorrow. You have a full stomach and an empty head with a throat as raw as a bloody steak." He grabbed at the hem of the blankets and ripped them out from under Vincent before gently pulling them over, tucking him in.
Vincent flushed at the care, being doted on like this was rare from Alastor and never failed to make him blush.
Alastor's smile regrew its teasing quality. "There's that sweet little blush. I could get used to the cyan on my bashful beauty."
Vincent smiled shyly and looked to the side, face growing in temperature. "Al, c'mon, quit teasing."
Alastor shuffled himself under the covers right beside him, nosing at his neck which was just this side of ticklish. "Don't pretend you don't love it. You adore when I embarrass you."
He sputtered, eyes looking everywhere but his partner. "Uh- I- I do not."
"You admitted it to me while drunk once."
A quick gasp. "Wait, I did? I told you that?!"
"No, but you did just now."
Vincent groaned as Alastor chuckled against his neck, making him smile widely but he was thankfully able to hold back his giggles, his throat and core couldn't take much more laughter.
He sighed, wrapping an arm around Alastor and holding him close in a comfortable silence that urged him to close his eyes and drift off.
"If I wake up and this is all just a dream-"
"Don't." Alastor said firmly. "This is real, as real as real gets." He embraced him and cuddled closer, their bodies pressed so tightly there was no room for air between them. "I've had dreams of this before, too."
He blinked, eyes suddenly wide. "Really?"
"Yes. My dear, I've dreamt of this since the day I died. To have you here with me again." He nosed at his neck and sighed. "I'm never letting you go. I hope you know that."
"Fine with me." Vincent ended his sentiment with a small coughing fit. Seemed his throat was really done for the night.
"Quiet. Close your eyes. Sleep."
Tickled out, sleepy, and enveloped in Alastor's scent and personal space, he faded out rather quickly, confident that when he woke, he'd still be with the love of his afterlife.
Project hail mary (tickle fic: Ler!Ryland Grace, Lee!Reader)
🌌 Summary: Grace is a filthy cheater when he's drunk - you're more than willing to match his mischief.
🪐Tags: Ryland Grace & Reader, tickling, fluff. 1.5k words
💫 Prompt: "thinking about rocky seeing you give grace raspberries for the first time and being baffled because he’s seen tickling before but this is new and weird and grace is reacting SO strongly,,, cue rocky asking a million questions to which you say “i don’t know, grace is the scientist here, why don’t you ask him” and grace having to explain the logistics behind it all while in hysterics, rushing to get his words out before you raspberry him again and he can barely talk though laughterrrr i’m on such a lee!grace kick atm i need that man to be wrecked within an inch of his life"
🛰️Author's note: At long last, new fic!! Sorry this one took so long! I'm still not super happy with it but I wanted to give yall something this week! <3.
🌌 Credits: (thank you to @//harringtonsslvt for the post layout inspo! Space dividers by @//strangergraphics)
You and Grace could be incredibly stupid sometimes. In your defence, you'd had several months with only each other to perfect your specific brand of ridiculous.
So it's no surprise to either of you that you're here again, chasing Grace down for sabotaging his way to Mariokart victory. Shoving the other players does not constitute a valid strategy, in your book, and you intend to make that point via a suitably childish retribution.
Though perhaps the fact you're both a little tipsy is clouding your judgement.
"Ok, ok ok-"
Ryland backs against the wall, looking suitably ridiculous. His legs nearly trip over one another, and he can't seem to stop laughing. The screen behind him proudly displays his ill-won place on the leader-board.
He sends you a pleading look - one that begs you to reconsider the course of action he knows you'll take. But you've both done this dance before - he never means it.
Knowing this, and seeing the poorly concealed giddiness in his eyes brings a smile to your face. Ryland knows you've made your choice, and holds his hand out in front of him.
"C'mon, wait, wait wait-"
You laugh, longer than you usually would. It's all so silly. “Nah.”
In a split second, you leap over, and barrel head-first into your target. You attack without mercy: your hands aim ticklish jabs at his sides, his stomach, his ribs. He curls up instantly, careless giggles and useless bargaining immediately filling the room.
"Yes yes yes, get him!" Rocky exclaims.
"Rohock! Have some sympathy!"
"No!" Normally, when there is a dispute, Rocky is quick to point out who started it - but in times like these, it is unclear to all of you. Grace may have started the shoving, but only because you tried to block his view of the screen.
You glance up at Grace, who has backed even further against the wall in his struggling, his shirt dishevelled. He sees the look in your eyes, and starts giggling.
“Hah- okay, okahay, what…whatever it is you’re thinking of doING-” His voice pitches up as you lean closer, grabbing his midriff. He attempts to block you with his hands, but not much effort goes into the gesture.
“Listen, listen, we can talk ABOUT- OH NO-” The rest of his sentence is swallowed by a shriek, because you’ve ignored him, and instead shoved your head under his shirt to plant a raspberry against his stomach. Ryland bats ineffectually at your head, his torso twisting and shaking with high pitched laughter - and then, adorably, he snorts. You withdraw after a moment - partly to catch your breath, and partly so you can watch him giggle himself silly as he recovers.
“Ha- oh fudge-” He mutters, an unabashed grin still lingering on his face.
Rocky chimes up from behind, tapping his foot. “…What was that, question?”
You both pause, glancing down at him. “Huh?”
“The noise.”
“What, this?” You immediately lean in and give your companion another raspberry. The shrieking returns, and he keeps trying to suck his stomach in to get away. It doesn’t work.
“Yes.” Rocky shuffles.
“Care to explain, Dr. Grace?” You grin, poking unpredictably at his sides with one hand and holding him for stability with the other. Ilyukhina's vodka was dangerous.
Grace whines at the suggestion, pushing lightly at your hands.
“Oh, why mehehe?”
“It’s, uhhh- s'your turn to field a Rocky question. I did the last one.”
“Ha- oh jeez, do I have to?” He looks at Rocky pleadingly.
“Yes.”
“Great. So it’s called a raspberry-EEE-”
His sentence devolves into a shrill squeal. Maybe it’s a little mean you interrupted him to give Rocky another demonstration. Oddly, though, it's hard to find a trace of guilt in your heart.
“…Like earth fruit, question?”
You draw back, nodding in Rocky's direction. “Yep.”
Ryland rakes a hand through his hair, and glares. His betrayal is completely staged.
“You’re not -gonna make this easy for me, are you?”
You shrug, intoxicated laughter threatening to drown your words.
“You're the one taking ages to explain.”
“Why called raspberry, question?”
“I dohon't know, bud, you'll have to check the database!” His breath hitches when you start spidering slowly over his ribs. He pouts, and if anything it just motivates you to continue.
“Grace laugh a lot when raspberry.”
“Yea, bud, because it really TICKLES-”
You do it again, because he's not exactly pushing you away. Grace curls inwards, holding onto your shoulders for dear life as he laughs.
"Raspberries work anywhere else, question?"
Ryland just giggles helplessly, his grip on you tightening, making absolutely no moves to stop you. Regardless, you take pity, and ease off a bit.
“Go on.” You nod for him to continue, lightly squeezing his sides. He's barely stopped laughing, clearly just as giggly as you after a couple drinks.
“Yea, thehey do.” He mutters, a note of resignation in his voice.
"Like where, question?"
He pauses.
...There is no universe where you manage to stop Grace from immediately burying his face against your neck. No universe where you push him away before he takes a deep breath. And no universe where he doesn't then declare, with all the smugness in the world:
"Here."
And then you feel it.
Grace's beard really tickles.
You manage to shout a single expletive before you're lost to unfiltered cackling. Your body seizes in its hysterics, trying to writhe out of the way - but every movement only seems to trap him further against your shoulder. There's nowhere to go. Besides, in your half-drunk state, where every touch feels like dozy sunlight on a nice afternoon, you don't particularly want to go anywhere.
You still protest, though.
"GRACE! Plehehease!"
"Sorry," He pauses, chuckles. "Is your neck too ticklish?"
"Shut UP-" Your voice slides higher when his stubble brushes your collarbone, and squeaky giggles wreak havoc on your little remaining coherency.
"You want me to stop talking?"
"YES!"
"Good. Raspberries make it kinda hard to talk, so that works out for both of us." He blows another one to illustrate his point.
"GRACE-" You shout between giggles, infuriated. He ignores you - just nuzzles slightly closer, the buzzing of his beard on your skin sending you into utter hysterics.
"So..." He leans back to look down at your audience. "Any more questions, Rock?"
"Not sure."
"Ok. Well, I'm aiming to repay my four raspberries here, so I've only got two more left. Better think of one fast."
"...You are both very drunk."
"S'not a question, bud."
"...Why do raspberries work on stomach but not sides, question?"
"I meannn," He shrugs. "I never said they didn't."
"Great," You huff, trying to extricate yourself from the odd half-hug Grace has trapped you in.
"It is great, actually." He pulls you closer like it's nothing, and nudges at your shirt.
"You know what's not great? Cheating at Mariokart."
He doesn't say anything - just takes another deep breath. You brace yourself, hoping to contain your reactions a little better.
It doesn't work.
"ahaHA-" Your legs kick out wildly. "RockEE- HELP!"
"What would I do? Am in ball." He's got a point, unfortunately.
Grace finally pauses for breath, and you think he might be about to show mercy.
But then he looks at Rocky, and looks at you, and frowns.
"Hm, I wonder..."
He grabs your leg, pulling it straight. His hand rests on the cuff of your shorts, above your exposed knee, stabilising it.
Your eyes go wide.
"No."
"What, you think it'll work?"
You hesitate. He doesn't bother letting you contemplate further - just leans in, and brings his mouth to the skin behind your knee.
It's awful. It's wonderful. It's so stupid and ridiculous. You smile so wide. You laugh so hard.
This chaos is comfortable to you both, and you know neither of you would change it.
It takes a while for you to notice that Ryland has stopped - you're still laughing when he turns you around to face him.
"Uh oh. Someone's got a case of the giggles."
There's a special kind of withering glare you reserve only for when Ryland really annoys you - but you use it here, just for fun. Just to see him tut and roll his eyes.
"Happy?" You fold your arms.
"Very." He smirks. You shove at him gently.
"Still do not understand why called raspberry." Rocky crawls closer. "On Erid we call it-"
He stops. The quiet that follows tells you all you need to know.
"...Rocky..." You start.
"Nevermind." He chimes, moving to scuttle away.
Grace grins wildly.
"No, no. Continue. What do you call it on Erid?"
The conversation devolves rapidly, and you lean back to watch. The night is still young, it seems. Plenty of time for Rocky to witness some more of the incredible stupidity you are all accustomed to.
they are buddies and have silly fun times. they are whipped for each other. kon is obvious about it, bart is only two apples tall to him. bart just loves feeling loved and appreciates kon because he’s honest about his mushy gushy feelings. Unlike some people they know
Bart liked hugs. Talking to him, you’d think he liked just about everything, but he especially liked hugs. In theory, his friends didn’t mind. After running some trials, he’d found that some definitely minded less than others.
Kon undeniably was just the best, it wasn’t even close. He was all big and warm, it didn’t matter how fast Bart ran at him because of his Kryptonian durability, and he didn’t get uncomfortable when Bart didn’t wanna let go. Kon would let him hang on as long as he wanted, the speedster was very pleasantly surprised at this patience he was shown.
With this having fully registered in Bart’s mind, they’d fallen into a rhythm as of late. Admittedly, this was the first time he’d run across the country and scoured the rural outskirts of Metropolis to find his hug buddy. He was dying of boredom.
It was autumn, dreary and nearing the end of the season. Kon was the only sign of life in the gray, derelict cornfield where he was sparring with nobody, probably talking to himself. He hit the ground fast when Bart barreled into him from behind at, like, mach bazillion.
“Owh— oh god, fuhuhuck…“ He rasped, rolling over onto his back and holding his stomach like it would knock the wind back into him. The first thing he saw was Bart beaming down at him.
“An angel?” Kon gasped dumbly.
Bart laughed and threw himself down across his teammate. They made a wonky plus sign. It seemed innocent enough, but knocked about half of the wind Kon regained right out. His next choked sound was exaggerated purposefully.
“Did you call or anything, Imp?” He carefully began. Bart wasn’t unwanted here, but he was unexpected.
“Nuh-uh.” You could hear him smiling.
“So… you just ran all the way here to say hi?” Kon continued.
“Uh-huh! It’s no big deal for me, y’know.” That was a fair point. It probably took Bart less than three minutes, and that’s with the delay of trying to track his friend down. He wasn’t the most careful with his civilian identity, Tim would have an aneurism, but who was going to catch him anyway? He moved faster than almost all of the population could perceive.
“Alright, well… hi.” Kon sat himself up, stretching. He was bulletproof, he didn’t really get sore, but it made him look all cool and casual.
Bart grinned. “Hi.”
He stared for a moment before parting his arms expectantly. Kon huffed a laugh.
“There it is. That’s why you came here.” He simply snagged Bart up on his way to his feet. They began to chatter.
“I’ve just been thinking… why are you so small?”
“I prefer vertically challenged.” Bart quipped.
“You’re horizontally challenged too. You’re spatially challenged.” Kon rebuked.
“You’re talkin’ like you’re mad at me!” Bart scoffed. It wasn’t his fault! He’s known it for years, he won’t be getting much bigger.
“I’m not! It’s just… kinda funny, I don’t know.”
Kon pulled back for a demonstration, taking Bart’s wrist. “Like, look at this thing.”
His hand flopped back and forth when Kon shook it about. “It’s adorable.”
Bart didn’t know how to respond. For his own peace of mind, he had to stop getting all ruffled at short jokes a long time ago. He never didn’t have something to say for long at all, though. He made a hand puppet. It turned away and dipped its head.
A smirk was slowly crossing his friend’s face. “What are you doing?”
“It’s shy.” The speedster informed him.
Kon couldn’t help breaking out into a grin. He released Bart’s wrist. “…You’re so stupid.”
“If I don’t get un-bored I’m going to do something stupid.” Bart moaned, crossing his arms.
Kon refused to be held liable for that. The kind of stupid Bart’s mind could conjure was otherworldly. “I’ll give you a three second headstart. I’m it.”
It was sweet, how he lit up. Nobody ever wanted to play tag with a speedster, but of course they wanted to play tag with you.
He didn’t need to be told twice, and with Bart already almost out of view, Kon counted down from one instead before starting his pursuit.
The cornfield was perfect for a game of chase, all wide open space and flat ground. Flying, Kon could get within about five feet of Bart. It wasn’t his strongest skill, he wasn’t as elegant as Clark or Kara. Flying was practical, at least when he wasn’t this close to the ground. He was going to snag one wrong twig and eat shit.
That might not be the worst idea.
Hearing what could only be described as major damage over his shoulder, Bart skidded to a stop. He caught the tail end of it: Kon’s hideous fall. It looked like it hurt, but that wasn’t how he was supposed to work.
He wasn’t laughing, cursing, he wasn’t responsive. “Uh…” And he may have twitched like a crushed bug just then.
Bart, so pure of heart, wasn’t going to come to the conclusion that he was being tricked on his own. A little shameful, but Kon had no real bad intentions. He knew better than to rough up anyone who he had over four weight classes on.
The ginger crouched down, arms settling loosely around his legs. “You okay?”
“Mmmnnghhh…”
He frowned, glancing up towards the distant house. “Should I go get someone…?”
Kon’s pathetic groaning morphed into a battle cry as he sprung up, grabbing at Bart who tumbled over with an indignant, but giddy yell.
“You’re such a cheater!” His voice was shrill.
“Cut me some slack, I would’ve never caught you.” Kon huffed, an affectionate smile growing on his face. “Besides, I know another game.”
Though Bart was eyeing him with a bit more caution now, his eyes were still curious.
“You probably know this one, I do it with Tim all the time.” That didn’t bode well.
He explained the rules fast, knowing it would take Bart’s brain some time to catch up. “So you just lay there, I’m gonna tickle you. If you get away, you win and I stop.”
“Make sense?”
Kon was squinted at for a few seconds. Processing data…
A belated squeal tore from Bart’s throat, his arms wrapping around his middle. He did know this game, he’d probably played along with the winning side, teasing and prodding at their high strung team leader. Tim could hardly stand just one person, it was brutal.
Maybe it was a blessing that Bart didn’t get any more time to dwell on that, Kon pinching and scribbling at any opening that his curling, flailing limbs couldn’t protect.
If nothing else, Tim wasn’t a meta-human. If the speedster decided he really wanted out, he had that luxury. His friend wasn’t a mind reader, but if Kon thought he really wasn’t in the mood, they wouldn’t have gotten this far anyway.
His hands were buzzing where they’d latched onto Kon’s wrists. Bart was surprised at the sound of startled laughter that wasn’t his own.
Kon pulled back, a little shy. “Thahat feels funny…”
“I’m gonna have to get creative with you.” He huffed. “I’ve been meaning to test this out anyway. I’m… just a little sorry, in advance. This is probably gonna be awful for you.”
Bart wasn’t sure why Kon was getting so focused. Squaring his shoulders and shutting his eyes.
Something was starting to prickle on his test subject’s lower tummy. A small chill ran through him. That prickling was quick to pick up into something that Bart knew only Kon was horrible enough to come up with: Tactile telekinesis phantom tickling.
He nearly jumped out of his skin, immediately hysterical. His back arched up off of the ground, Bart was probably going to stretch out his hoodie with how violently he was pawing at the fabric, fruitlessly trying to rub the feeling away.
“Is it working??” He would have been more annoyed if Kon didn’t sound so genuinely excited about it.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK??” Bart snapped through his cackles, his hand clenching into a fist and pounding against what Superboy shaped thing the found first, which happened to be his thigh.
His wrist was quickly seized. Not because Kon was hurt, but because Bart would undeniably end up hurting himself at this rate. Kon had some thick skin.
It was easier to make the feeling fizzle out than it was to get going. Bart fell limp, stomach rising and falling as he collected himself. He was all blissed out, giggling and staring up at the sky. Every so often, he would think he felt something. His squeaking and writhing would momentarily start over again before he came to his senses.
They sat like that for a while. Kon couldn’t help thinking how fun Bart was to watch, his grin never leaving his face.
“I’ve gotta try one more thing.” He spoke casually, but wasn’t as sneaky, nor clever as he could be.
Bart’s breathless laughter picked up again. “No you dohon’t…” He didn’t mean a word of it, Kon knew him well enough to see that.
If anyone was going to be willing to let him run these ridiculous tests, it was Bart. Of anyone Kon had ever met, he tried the least hard to even pretend he didn’t like tickling. He always wanted to be close and touchy and all over you, you could joke that you were going to rub his belly like a little puppy and Bart would probably roll over.
“I do, though! You still haven’t technically won the game you know, all you’ve gotta do is get away. Why’re you just sitting there taking it?” Kon probed.
Bart just smiled at him. “I forgot.”
How someone hadn’t gone and eaten this little shrimp right up yet was beyond him.
“Well, now you know. Are you ready? One, two…”
The poor speedster got maybe three steps through a stumble, and about two through his mad dash before crumpling to the ground. “NONONONONO— Not thehehere!”
“I’ve gotta test the places I can’t normally reach.” Kon spoke with feigned earnestness like that was the real reason why he’d concentrated the phantom tickles at Bart’s feet, and the real reason was obvious. Without control of them, he wasn’t going anywhere.
“You’re so mean!” He cried out. He laid on his front, legs kicking so fast that they were essentially an intangible blur.
He hadn’t gone far, but Kon stood to kneel down next to Bart, as close as he could without being in the danger zone. He smiled, chewing on his lip and failing to hold back a snort.
“You’re gonna put a hole in the ground, Thumper.” He cooed, eyeing the cloud of dust Bart was rapidly kicking up.
The nickname brought a cheerier cadence to his giggles, and he rolled over to meet Kon’s eyes. His lashes were starting to look a little wet, and the cold weather in combination with his racing heart had Bart’s cheeks and nose a deep shade of pink.
“O… Okay, okay— you’ve gotta stop…” He breathed out. His legs were growing tired.
Kon obliged. He’d given him a pretty serious workout.
Bart was experiencing some symptoms he’d never seen before. Anyone would need a little time to come down from all of that, but it seemed that no matter how long they sat there, Bart couldn’t shake all the giggles and jitters.
“I… are you alright? How do you feel?” Kon was realy hoping he hadn’t cast some kind of permanent tickle spell.
“Tingly…” Bart managed, wiping his sleeve over his eyes.
“I’m fine, don’t worry, don’t cry.” He put on a sweet smile. What would have been an affectionate pat on the cheek, if Bart was normal, was instead Kon’s face being mindlessly groped and nudged.
“Thank you, thank you, I feel so much bette—“ He sputtered, leaning away. “Get out of my mouth, you little shit! Jesus…”
Bart was giving him a lopsided grin.
“You’re being weird again, so I’m gonna assume you’re fine.”
“Mm.” The ginger nodded, stretching tall as he sat up. He glanced up, uncharacteristically sheepish. “Thanks for keeping me busy.”
Internally, Kon rolled his eyes. He would have sat around bored in a cornfield all day too if not for this. Bart had nothing to feel awkward about.
Raising an eyebrow, “Aren’t you thirsty?” was all he said.
Bart’s small smile told him that he wasn’t going to say no to an offer to stay. It shouldn’t have felt so special, just not being seen as a nuisance. What also shouldn’t have mattered what it should or shouldn’t be, it was special. He was going to soak up as much Superboy as he could today.
Bucky threw his head back and cackled through his curses as hands snuck around his ribs and squeezed with intent.
"Language, Congressman Barnes." Steve gasps in a playful scolding voice as he grins down at his lover laughing, his hands still firmly planted on Bucky's ribs.
"F-Fuhuhuck you!" Bucky trips to glare as he squirms but Steve easily folloss him across the couch. "Leheave me ahahalone!"
"I'll never leave you alone!" Steve coos, laughing along with Bucky when he growls through giggles.
"What dihid I even dohoho?!" Bucky tries to reach back and pull Steve's hands away from his torso, but can't seem to get a good grip.
"You've been doing that moody, grumpy thing again." Steve says lile that is perfect reason to do anything.
"I was reheheading!"
"Same thing."
Steve grins down at Bucky who growls again as he rolls over to grab Steve's hands. The two grapple with each other, evenly strong and able to rough house without accidentally hurting each other.
Steve grins warmly at Bucky who's wearing a rare but healthy looking pink blush across his face and a toothy smile. It was good to see Bucky so happy and able to be carefree, and even if he hadn't been that grumpy recently, it was still so enjoyable to listen to his boyish laughter.
"Stop looking at me all mushy." Bucky grumbles and Steve gives him a sheepish but playful smile.
"Can't help it." Steve shrugs and gently moves a piece of hair out of Bucky's face. His new medium length hair style was really growing on Steve.
Bucky hums and leans up, letting go if Steve's hands in favor of pulling the blonde above him into a kiss. Both of them melt into it, soft sighs and gentle touches accompanying their lips.
Bucky waits until he feels Steve fully relax before he pulls away, waiting a moment to enjoy Steve's pout before rolling them onto to floor, landing on the plush rug before Bucky swings a leg over Steve and pins both his arms easily in his metal one.
Steve gasps before dissolving into hearty cackles once Bucky's free hand finds leverage on his belly, scribbling and kneading away.
"Nohohot fair!!" Steve laughs, a blush already on his face. "That's cheheating!"
"There's no rule in a tickle fight." Bucky chuckles. "You're the one who let your guard down."
Before Steve can respond Bucky moves his hand to tease around his naval, dipping a finger into the space and watching Steve get close to hysterics.
"Your belly always was bad back in the 40's." Bucky hums fondly, grinning as Steve kicks his feet against the floor.
"B-Bucky, nohohot thehehere!!" Steve tugs uselessly at his arms, already knowing they're stuck in the (literal) steel trap that was Bucky's arm.
"Not where?" Bucky teases. "Here? Right here?" He asks in mock confusion as he wiggles his finger into Steve's bellybutton to put emphasis.
Steve cackles and nods, squirming all of no where and just succeeding in riding up his shirt.
"Well, thank you, Steve." Bucky grins as he fully lifts up his shirt. "You just couldn't resist."
"Bucky, come on." Steve whines as he catches his breath.
"Your puppy eyes aren't gonna save you this time, Rodgers." Bucky replies and Steve does his best to glare with a grin spread on his face.
"Come on, you have an-" Steve's voice is cut off with his own shriek as Bucky leans down and blows a raspberry on Steve's lower belly while his free hand digs into his exposed armpit.
"-an unfahahair advahahantage!!" He yells through laughter and tugs at his trapped arms.
"Awe," Bucky says against the skin of Steve's taught stomach. "Sucks for you."
Steve fights hard when Bucky's hand slides down to his hip, giggling in anticipation.
"I haven't done anything." Bucky laughs along with him, the vibrations shooting tingles through Steve's skin.
"But I know yohou will!"
"Oh, yes I will." A grin that Steve could only describe as evil spreads across Bucky's face. Gosh, he was so screwed (in the best possible way).
