Can you do Stan, Ford, and Bill (gravity falls) headcanons? If not that’s completely fine! Take your time!!
☆⑅Felony Trio Headcanons⑅☆
(Stan, Ford & Bill)
~No idea if these three have an actual group name or not, but this is what I'm going with. You can't tell me they haven't committed at least one a piece, accidentally and/or on purpose. These sillies will always have a special place in my heart as one of my earlier obsessions. Thank you for requesting!~
❓Stanley💵
General:
Silly con-man gives me ler-leaning switch vibes. Loves wrecking his family, but wouldn’t mind the occasional giggle-fest.
Over the years, he’s developed the elusive “can say the t-word whenever” power, though it definitely didn’t used to be that way. Ford reminds him of that whenever it’s most annoying.
Can easily admit that he likes tickling others, but receiving it? Yeah, good luck. He’s willing to die on that hill.
Lee:
A bit rare, but he will get lee moods. He’s a “ride it out in silence” kinda guy, but Ford can sometimes catch onto his bullshit (definitely not bc he does it too what-)
If he DOES try and solve his problem, it’ll be in the most roundabout way possible. Provoking his brother, teasing his great niece and nephew until they try something, you name it. If it works, it works.
Worst spots are his armpits and the area right beneath his belly button. Enjoy watching him lose his mind if you target either one ♡
Melt spot is his ears. You can’t tell me his goofy ears wouldn’t make him giggle his heart out; he’d love every second of it.
Very gruff, choppy giggles. Sounds kinda like he’s been chain smoking, then saw the funniest thing in his life. When you really get him going, deep and rough belly laughter. Occasional snorts if you wanna kill him.
Ler:
When he gets in a ler mood, he’ll either bother his overworking brother or mess with one of the kids. Sometimes his family can tell, though he won’t normally admit anything.
Such a wonderful asshole of a ler-
Teases, smart-ass comments, horrible dad jokes, and more! Definitely the one to go to if you want a shameless wrecking.
“You’re a lil’ squeak toy, huh? I just squeeze your side and- yup, just like that.”
“Ya know, you could’ve just pushed me away by now. Don’t worry, I noticed.”
“You sure squirm a lot, don'tcha? Like a lil’ worm, could use you as fishing bait!”
“It tickles? Wow, that must really suck for you.”
Pretty good with aftercare. He'll ruffle your hair and tease you, of course, but he lets you lay on him while the TV plays. Fair trade, honestly.
👓Stanford🖋️
General:
Can you really tell me he isn't at least a little lee? After all those years with little to no comforting contact, he loves a good giggle fest.
Making his great niece and nephew laugh, though? Even better.
He doesn't always get that feeling, so I'm going lee-leaning switch.
Lee:
If you even mention it around him, he'll blush, no matter his mood. It's real bad when he's lee.
You can kinda gauge if he's in a mood by just saying the t-word (if you can, that is)
If you don't have that magic, then he's still pretty obvious in other ways.
Extra stuttering, constantly adjusting his glasses, eyes lingering on your hands, wobbly smiles. If you've got eyes, you'll be able to tell.
Will deny it at first, but it's pretty flimsy.
“I-I don't know what you're talking about. I survived the roughest interdimensional plane there is. I don't need…that.”
He falls apart the minute you wiggle your fingers at him.
Worst spots are his hips, followed by his ribs. A few squeezes to either will have him snorting up a storm.
Melt spots are his ears and the tops of his thighs. Like his brother, his ears are lovely to run a feather across for both him and the ler. He loves gentle traces on his thighs, though. Have him a melted, giggling puddle in seconds.
He loses tickle fights on purpose at least 76.4% of the time. Don’t ask me how I got that number: I just know.
Ler:
His ler moods are rare, but if he’s feeling a bit distant from his family, he’ll try and piece things with some giggles.
Soft, playful ler. He never wants to go too far, but he isn’t afraid to goof around and tease while he’s at it.
“I think I’ve got a leg up here, huh? Thanks to my extra fingers, this has gotta be at least 20% more ticklish~”
“You really do blush quite a lot. It’s pretty cute to watch.”
“As a scientist, it’s my job to conduct experiments. Let’s try now. Hypothesis: if I get your worst spot, you’ll laugh at least twice as loud as you are now. Time for the experiment~”
The moment you say stop, even if you don’t mean it, he pulls away. If you want more, you’ll have to ask him.
Pretty great with aftercare. Will absolutely cuddle you, maybe even tell some stories if you’re interested. He’s got plenty from his time in the portal, though he keeps the angstier ones to himself. Any tale he tells is almost guaranteed to make you smile.
🎩Bill💛
General:
Believe it or not, the chaotic dorito does like tickling. In fact, after him and Mabel’s interaction, they seem to randomly plague his thoughts at the most inopportune times. It goes in either direction, his moods as random as his personality.
Considering this, we’re gonna go straight-up switch.
Lee:
These moods are especially hard for the demon to satiate. His friends are insane, but none completely batshit enough to try something like tickling him. When he needs a fix, he usually has to outsource it or suffer until it goes away.
On the off chance he does outsource, he goes for one of the Pines twins. They’re hesitant to let him in, but he’s a sweet-talker. Once he’s inside, it barely takes an hour for him to provoke someone into wrecking him.
His spots vary based on the body he’s inhabiting. The one time he was tickled in his own (Weirdmageddon incident, don’t ask), he found that his hat and feet got him laughing the most.
(don’t come at me, his hat re-grew flesh when he got shot in it)
He doesn’t really have a distinct melt spot, though he loves being tickled right beneath his bowtie. It makes him kick and squirm, but it also makes him incredibly giddy.
Ler:
I’d tell you to run for your life, but it won’t do you much good.
Evil, sarcastic and rough ler. Good luck breathing o7
The kinda dude to go for all your worst spots first, and only explore the softer side if he’s wanting to spice things up.
Can and will generate any tool he feels like to wreck you (surprisingly enough, he’ll ask first)
Boundaries really need to be set before anything happens. Otherwise he’ll just go until he feels like stopping. If you look on the brink of passing out, he’ll quit, but other than that nah.
VERY teasy, with a large handful of sarcasm and sass.
“Geez, you laugh really loud when I get ya here. Mind dialing it down? I don’t wanna go deaf before I’m 20 million.”
“Ha! You snort? I’ve gotta hear that again, c’mon!”
“You’re confusing. You say ‘no, go away,’ but you haven’t even tried escaping. I’m supposed to be the crazy one here; mind explaining?”
“Wow, this is driving you nuts, huh? We’re gonna match!”
Not super great at aftercare unless you ask. He can make any snack or drink you want by snapping, and he knows some great rom-coms to doze off to (don’t ask why unless you wanna go for round two).
a/n: because these two are my die hard otp and anything with male lees is just top tier... heavily based on @hypahticklish 's headcanons (which are now also my own)
@ticklishraspberries (bc you asked <3)
Fandom: Harry Potter (Post-War Era)
Characters: Bill/Fleur, Charlie
Summary: When being married does not automatically mean Fleur knows everything about her husband.
3998 words
Warnings: minor nsfw
After the war, catching up on the simple things was top priority. For Fleur, that meant sitting out on the porch of Shell Cottage with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. For Bill, it meant sleeping.
The many nights they had spent worrying, or running around, straight into another fight had been exhausting. And the loss of one of their own had struck deep in the Weasley family. Fred was on Bill's mind a lot, as was to be expected.
Taking a few weeks off of work allowed him to loose track of his own thoughts during the day. He had become quiet, reserved and Fleur couldn't blame him. She knew after a loss that great, Bill would likely never quite be the same, but she gave him the space to process his grief however he needed to.
Bill's day started early, before dawn, as it had become his new routine. He slipped out of bed, planted the gentlest of kisses to Fleur's forehead and left her to sleep some more. He climbed downstairs and stepped out onto the porch with a strong cup of tea, watching the distant horizon grow brighter ever so slowly.
Fixing up the old cottage, which had turned into their permanent home, was the most therapeutic way to get him through the day, Bill found. It reminded him of his teenage years, summers spent at the Burrow, building tree houses and forts out in the woods with his siblings.
By the time Fleur made her way downstairs, the sky was already bright and clear. The windows were open, allowing the cool summer morning breeze to fill the cottage and bring in the sweet, salty scent of the sea.
Fleur smiled as she spotted the steaming cup of coffee on the stove, waiting for her. Sipping at it carefully, she followed the sound of hammering to the back of the house.
Bill was crouched before a pile of wooden planks, methodically nailing one piece to another. Only when he heard the footsteps in the sand approach from behind, did he stop.
"Morning," Fleur greeted him sweetly, running her fingers lovingly through her husbands hair.
Bill smiled up at her, eyes squinted against the bright summer sky to make out her silhouette. "Hi."
Fleur smiled back, gently wiping some sand off his brow where it had stuck to his sweaty skin.
"Did I wake you?" Bill asked, eyes shut so none of the sand could fall into them.
Once the last of the sand was wiped off Bill face, and he was able to look at her again, Fleur shook her head. She gazed over the wooden frame splayed out before them. "What are you making?"
Bill set down the hammer and slowly rose to his feet.
The warm temperatures of the last few days had compelled him to banish all his shirts to the dresser. Fabric sticking to sweaty skin was not the kind of discomfort Bill wanted to deal with at the moment.
Fleur watched him roll his shoulders and stretch out his back after being hunched over for an extended period of time. She was convinced his freckles had doubled since the day before, if that was even possible.
"I remembered you saying it would be nice to keep some chickens," Bill replied, placing his hands on his hips.
Fleur's face broke out into a grin. "I did say that."
Bill looked down at her and couldn't help but be infected by her look of excitement. "Well, there you go."
Fleur wrapped an arm around his waist in a tight hug and planted a kiss against his shoulder. "Do you want some breakfast?"
Bill slung his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. "I would love some breakfast."
They looked at each other with adoration, leaning into each others embrace before kissing, sweet and intimate. Fleur released her grip on him first, pulling away. "Come on then, hungry husband," she teased with a pinch to his stomach.
Bill chuckled and followed her back inside. "Oh, Charlie sent an owl last night. He's heading back to Romania soon and wanted to spend his last couple days here, away from the Burrow."
Fleur smiled at Bill warmly. "Charlie knows he is welcome here any time, yes?"
Bill smiled back. "Already told him we'd be expecting him."
The rest of the morning passed in similar spirit. They made their breakfast, ate it outside where they could overlook the sea, talked when the need for it arose and sat in comfortable silence when it didn't.
Bill returned to his chicken coop and continued his work until the midday sun, which he had been able to avoid on that side of the house until then, finally came burning down on him.
Hot and tired, he took a cool shower, changed into a more comfortable pair of shorts and a t-shirt before settling down on the living room sofa for a nap.
Fleur found him there a little while later, snoring ever so softly. Not wanting to disturb him, she grabbed a cold drink from the fridge and returned to her book.
The story had her so engrossed that only the scuffing sounds of footsteps on wood finally tore her away.
"Bonjour."
She was greeted by a smug but welcoming face.
"Oh, Charlie! I didn't even hear you arrive. C'est bon de te voir." Fleur set her book down and got to her feet swiftly, greeting her brother-in-law with a hug and a kiss to each cheek.
Charlie had to be one of her favourite Weasley siblings. There was just something about the way he spoke to her, and anyone really, that made her feel like she had known him for years. In reality, she could count on one hand the times she had met him. But it was his approachable and easy-going nature, something that reminded her a lot of her first official meeting with Bill, that made her feel completely comfortable with being herself.
Charlie grinned at Fleur as they pulled apart from the hug. Although they were hardly two year apart in age, him and Bill could not be more different. Barely an inch taller than Fleur, who was on the taller side, Charlie was noticeably shorter than his older brother but boxier in his face and shoulders.
His work with the dragons, the extensive physical contribution, had made him compact, sturdy, robust. Even the curls of wiry hair, his hazel eyes with more hints of brown than blue, the small gap at the front of his teeth. If it wasn't for the exact same shade of flaming red hair, it was hard to believe these two were related at all.
"What are you doing out here, all on your own?" he asked, giving her arm a warm squeeze.
Fleur gestured her head in the direction of the living room. "He's sleeping," she replied in a low voice.
"Oh, I see," Charlie whispered and a mischievous look slipped onto his face. "Guess that calls for a more advanced brotherly welcome."
Fleur narrowed her eyes at him but couldn't repress a chuckle, although she had no idea what he could mean. She gently slid the door open and a slither of light fell, almost perfectly, onto Bill's sleeping form on the sofa.
They stood in the doorway for a moment, Charlie peeking over Fleur's shoulder only to make a cooing sound.
"I think he doesn't really sleep much at night, so he naps a lot at the moment," Fleur told him, trying not to let her concern seep through too much.
Charlie patted her shoulder as he stepped past her, into the house. "Look at him, so sweet. So innocent. So oblivious." The way Charlie stood over his brother could have been menacing if it wasn't for the fact that Charlie was the complete opposite of menacing.
"Just, don't be mean," Fleur spoke gently, catching Charlie's eyes for a moment as he walked to the end of the sofa, where Bill's feet rested innocently over the arm rest.
Charlie placed a hand over his heart and winked at Fleur. "I'll keep him in one piece, I promise."
He slowly lowered his hand and let a single finger brush against the sole of an unsuspecting foot. It curled, then twitched, followed by a quiet noise of disapproval from Bill.
Charlie smirked and took hold of the other foot's ankle, holding it in place. Biting his lip, he repeated the motion, only this time he increased the pressure with every repetition.
At first it seemed that Bill would sleep through the assault but as an attempt to retract his leg failed, he began to stir awake. Blearily, his eyes fluttered open and fell upon the figure by his feet.
"Charlie?" Bill asked, his voice croaky with sleep.
Charlie grinned. "Hey, there, sleepy bum." He shook his brother's leg some, not letting up on its hold just yet. "Thought, just because you have your own place now, you would be safe?"
Bill rubbed his eyes and lifted his head, his brain taking a couple seconds to catch on. "Oh, come o-"
Before he could even finish the sentence, Charlie had twisted Bill's leg, forcing the rest of his body to flip from its back to its front. With the limited space of the sofa, the only direction for this was onto the floor.
There was a thud, but Bill managed to catch most of his weight with his hands. Now on the ground, his hands pressed flat beneath his shoulder as if about to do a push up. He groaned a little, his forehead thunking against the old rug. "Don't you think we're getting a bit too old- Char-ah-Ah!"
The younger brother had thrown himself on top of Bill in classic dog-pile fashion, except that his hands latched onto the victim's torso. Giggles erupted immediately after a grunt and a yelp. One side was getting pinched and squeezed while the other attempted to shield itself against a vicious armpit attack.
"Finish that sentence and find out how fucked you actually are right now," Charlie warned over Bill's laughter.
Fleur leaned over the back of the sofa, watching the scene unfold with fascination. She would have never guessed her husband to be this ticklish. The biggest reaction she had ever managed to get from him was a chuckle or a shiver whenever she grazed his neck or scrawled on his back with her nails. This was quite a different sight.
It had also been a while since she had heard Bill laugh like this, if ever. She watched Charlie's hands carefully, making sure to memorise his technique for future reference.
The tops of Bill's feet drummed against the floor, elbows flapping uselessly like a flightless bird. "Chaharlie!"
Charlie laughed at his brother's predicament, rough fingers taking his ribs apart casually. "What?"
"Stoh-aH-ahp!"
Charlie pretended to think but did not ease up. "I don't know. You seem so happy. I would hate to ruin that for you."
"You prihick!"
Bill jerked, trying to throw his brother off. However, wrangling young dragons for years gave Charlie quite the advantage. Using his knee to keep one of Bill's leg pinned in place was enough to retain the upper hand.
"I don't think sooo," Charlie sang with a smug grin.
"Fine," Bill huffed and reached behind him with both hands.
At first, Charlie thought he was just grappling at him, trying to pull him off but as soon as he felt one finger connect with bare skin, he knew he was doomed.
"Nononono, William, absolutely n-AHH!"
Bill had managed to find his brother's hips and held onto them in a claw-like grip. The tips of his fingers pushed upwards in minimal circular motions, forcing their way into the muscle tissue.
Incapacitated by the intense sensation, Charlie's attack faltered as he refocused his energy on protecting himself. With a warbled cry, he wriggled off Bill's back and onto the rug with a soft thud.
For a moment it seemed that an unspoken truce had fallen between them as they lay next to each other, panting. But only a moment later, Bill shot up to his knees, lunging for his brother's throat.
If the strangled cries weren't intermingled with strings of colourful swears and spluttering laughter, Fleur would have been convinced she was witnessing a murder. Upon closer inspection it became clear that Bill's fingers were not, in fact, crushing his brother's windpipe but rather kneading at his prominent trap muscles.
Charlie was incapable of forming words. He had managed to bring one knee between them before the attack, which kept Bill from flattening him, like Charlie had done to him before. But still, rather uselessly, it was just being crushed against his chest.
"You win!" Charlie was finally able to get out, his hands clutching Bill's wrists desperately. The fingers halted. "You win... Plehease... It's too much."
Bill grinned, self-satisfied, and backed off, resting against the base of the sofa. "You should know better than to ambush a man in his own house. Especially while he's asleep."
"It's good to see you too," Charlie replied breathlessly, pushing himself into a sitting position.
"I'm so glad I didn't grow up with brothers," Fleur spoke from behind the couch, amusement dripping from her voice.
Charlie looked at her passed Bill's head and grinned. "Well, we've got all the time in the world now to make up for that," he teased and he and Bill laughed. They reached for each others hands and pulled the other to their feet simultaneously before embracing each other in a tight hug.
After a big dinner and a couple glasses of wine, Bill and Fleur retired to their bedroom together, the first time in a while.
Charlie had already retreated to the guest room an hour or so ago and his dampened snores could be heard through the old walls.
"I forgot how funny he is," Fleur spoke quietly from where she stood in front of the mirror in her pyjamas, tying her hair into a loose braid.
Bill was watching her from the bed, stripped down to his briefs. He rested his head against the headboard with a hum, smiling to himself.
Fleur walked up to the bed and looked at her husband. "We should visit him in Romania some time," she suggested as she climbed under the covers.
Bill rolled onto his side so that he was facing her and nodded. "Yeah, we should." He slung his arm around her waist and pulled Fleur close until their bodies were pressed together.
Fleur giggled and kissed him softly, letting her arms get crushed between them.
They made out lazily for a little while, taking in the other's scent before simply snuggling close.
"So, how come whenever I tickle you, I don't make you laugh like Charlie?" Fleur asked after a few minutes of silence.
The question took Bill by surprise. He chuckled, amused that this crucial question was on Fleur's mind while he had been thinking about asking his father for some spare chicken wire.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Bill teased, his fingers scribbling beneath Fleur's pyjama top long enough to elicit a squeal.
"Stop! Stop," she protested, hitting his chest and kneeing his thigh in an attempt to curl up. "He'll hear us."
"Who, Charlie?" Bill asked, letting up. "He would sleep through an explosion, trust me."
Fleur huffed, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "I would like to know, amour."
Bill gazed down at her, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you can be trusted with such delicate information."
Fleur gasped, playfully acting offended. "I'm your wife. I have a right to delicate information."
Bill bit his lip to stop from grinning. "I don't know. What if you use it against me to get your wicked ways?"
Fleur sat up, leaning close to Bill's face. "That's exactly why I need to know."
They both laughed, Fleur resting a hand on Bill's chest and squeezing his pec. "Either you tell me or I'll ask Charlie to teach me," she told him nonchalantly.
Bill watched her with a smile. "Charlie's has gone through more than 20 years of trial and error, you think he'll just give it up like that?"
Fleur narrowed her eyes some. "I have my ways. En outre, he told me I was his favourite."
Bill chuckled and suddenly shot up, throwing himself at Fleur. The Veela yelped and groaned at the sudden weight on top of her but was quickly thrown into a fit of laughter when Bill started squeezing and pinching at her thigh. "But it's so much more fun to torment you this way. Leveling the playing field would be so unreasonable."
Fleur rolled her head back, laughing loudly. She could feel her braid dangling off the edge of the bed and gripped onto Bill's arm tightly. The attacked ceased as quickly as it had begun.
Fleur closed her eyes as she caught her breath, intertwining her fingers with Bill's. "Tu es méchant," she mumbled.
Bill chuckled and squeezed her hand while pressing his lips to her cheek. "I know," he whispered back.
He straightened up, sitting cross-legged beside his wife's body, allowing her to drape a leg diagonally across his lap. "Your touch is too light."
Fleur's eyes fluttered opened and their gazes fixed on each other for a few long seconds. "That's it?" asked Fleur. "I'm too gentle?"
Bill shrugged placidly, absentmindedly fumbling with the hem of her pyjamas. "Basically. Your tickles are more relaxing and comforting."
Fleur scrambled up and got to her knees, her face inches from Bill's. "Arms up."
Bill blinked. "Wh- No." His elbows pressed closer to his body in anticipation, a familiar giddiness building in his stomach.
"I need to make sure you are telling me the truth," Fleur argued, trying to wiggle her fingers in-between his clamped arms but Bill kept fending her off.
"Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you? For me to just offer myself up to you? No, no, no, my love, you will have to work for that."
Fleur rolled her eyes with a snort and reached out, one hand clamping onto his waist just beneath his elbow's protection.
There was no initial reaction.
The fingers compressed with more pressure and determination than they usually dared. However, after a few more squeezes, the biggest reaction they were able to extract was an audible exhale through the nose.
Fleur dropped her hand with a small pout, looking at Bill's amused face.
"That was good," he told her, giving a reassuring smile.
"You didn't even laugh," Fleur grumbled.
"Cause I saw you coming a mile off. It was better, I promise." Bill couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching, overcome with adoration for his wife.
Fleur paused for a moment as she thought. Out of nowhere she grabbed Bill's face, her lips crashing against his.
Bill let out a surprised moan but was quick to return the affection. He was slowly forced onto his back as Fleur inched closer, eventually straddling his hips.
Fleur's tongue brushed his lower lip, persuading Bill to focus only on her. There was another moan, this time with a hint of greed behind it and Fleur could feel a set of warm, gentle hands gliding up her thighs.
The kiss was broken by a startled laugh bubbling up between them. Distracted enough to let his guard down, Fleur had dug her fingers between Bill's ribs, just how she had seen Charlie do it. Adamant to get a decent reaction this time, she used all of her weight to at least try and keep Bill in place.
"Ahand you s-Aah! Said Ihi- Shihiiit!"
Fleur grinned victoriously as Bill threw his head back with his eyes squeezed shut. She couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him.
His hands came up from her thighs to grab onto her wrists but it didn't seem like it was to push them away. Rather, he simply held on for support.
Fueled by the successful reaction, Fleur watched Bill's face closely as she inched one of her hands higher.
"Nnnn... Ohoh- Dohon't!" Bill shook his head.
Only one finger had made contact with armpit hair when Bill bucked. It wasn't a violent buck, but Fleur let herself be thrown off anyway. With a triumphant laugh she flopped down next to her breathless husband. "So much for 20 years of trial and error."
Bill laughed at her comment, a hand coming to rest against his sternum as his breath evened out again.
Fleur brushed some hair out of his face and planted a kiss to his temple before turning her back on him and pulling the covers over herself as if the last 15 minutes had never happened. "You're very attractive when you pretend not to enjoy it."
Heat travelled from Bill's face all the way to his chest. "Oh, yeah?" He tried to sound casual but had lost any control over his body for a moment.
"Uh-huh."
Bill got comfortable on his own side again, adjusting the covers.
"I think I'll have to do this every night now."
"Alright, alright," Bill interjected with half-hearted disapproval, moving close and wrapping his arm around her waist to draw her close against his chest. He felt her chuckle in his hold and a warm smile crept onto his face.
The image of Fleur overpowering him and taking him apart with just her hands sent butterflies to Bill's stomach.
As they drifted off, it felt as if the weight of the last few weeks had faded into a cloud of fog to the back of their minds.
Bill was able to sleep through the night and didn't wake until the sun was already shimmering through the curtains.
As if keeping to an unspoken agreement, the following days rarely passed without the sounds of a tickle fight filling the rooms of old Shell Cottage.
A/N: Thank you to @coolcactidude for this prompt! I hope you enjoy!
~~~~~~~~
The clubhouse had cleared out by three members now, leaving only Richie, Eddie, Stan and Bill together.
Richie sat sat crosslegged with a comic open in his hands, tongue poking between his teeth in concentration. Behind him, sat Eddie, reading over Richie’s shoulder, resting his head in the crook of his neck. It was Stan’s turn in the hammock, so that’s where he resided, holding his bird book above his head as he read through the pages, taking in every intricate detail about the common redpoll.
And bill - to put it simply - was bored. Even with Richie around, the room was unnaturally quiet, and he had nothing to do. No books, no games, not even his Walkman. It was quiet. Too quiet.
Careful not to make a sound, he snuck up behind Eddie, before tasing both of his sides from behind with a grin. This resulted in a shriek from the shorter of the two, before he burst into shrilly and frantic laughter, pushing Bill’s hands away.
The sudden loud noise caused the other two both to jump, and Richie to raise a hand to his ear on the side of which Eddie had been resting his head. “Blimey, old chap! You’ll deafen is all if ya keep that up!” Richie told Eddie in a terrible british accent, which leant more towards Australian than it did british.
Bill stopped after a few moments, not wanting to push the asthmatics boundaries and cause him to have an Asthma attack.
Eddie, completely embarrassed, sat up, rubbing at his sides where the sensation had just been. His cheeks were flushed red and he quickly shuffled back over to Richie, looking down. And Richie couldn’t get enough of how adorable Eddie looked like that.
“Say, I don’t think any of us have ever gotten revenge on old Billy boy for all the times he’s tickled us lot..” Richie smirked, eyes now drawn completely away from his comic book and resting on Bill’s.
“That’s because we all fear what he’ll do to us when we’re done...” Eddie mumbled.
“Not if you get his lower ribs,” Stan stated completely calmly from the hammock, not a waver in his voice.
Richie’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Is that so~?” His voice was menacing and teasing, holding almost a tone of threat.
Bill’s cheeks were now an even darker shade of red than Eddie’s. “S-s-s-stan! You swore you’d keep that s-secret!” He hissed at the curly haired boy, who seemed completely unfazed by Bill’s whining.
“Aha! So it is true!” Richie grinned, turning his body completely around to face Bill, now backing him into the corner. Eddie followed right at his side, a smirk even more evil than Richie’s, which was definitely something to fear.
“N-n-no!” Bill attempted to protest, though he was already grinning and anticipation giggles were pouring from his lips.
“Y-y-yes!” Richie mocked, before launching forward and in one swift motion, tackled him into a lying position. Eddie moves just as fast as Richie, grabbing Bill’s flailing arms and pinning them down to the floor, above his head.
Bill barely even had a chance to try and talk his way out of it; Richie was already digging his fingers into the stuttering boy’s ribs.
A shriek, even higher and louder than Eddie’s had been just less than five minutes ago, sounded in the air, followed by fits of hysterical giggles.
The losers had heard Bill laugh before, but never like this. His laughter was hoarse, like his voice were about to crack, and it had an almost childlike quality to it.
“Ahhh! So the tickle monster is ticklish, Hmm~?” Richie teased, but was only met with more laughter.
He wriggled and squirmed under Richie’s evil touch, letting out the occasional squeal when Eddie felt brave and strong enough to flutter his fingers under his arms.
The tickling on his ribs soon moved further down to his sides, where Bill’s giggles died down, giving him a chance to catch his breath a little.
“If you’re looking to make him scream, try his knees,” Stan remarked in that same, flat tone.
Stan’s brain was on autopilot. “Not right now, dear-“ he responded, before his eyes went wide and it was his turn for his cheeks to tint pink. A hand slapped over his mouth as if it would help the words that had just left his lips be silenced. Lucky for him, they weren’t silenced by his hands, but drowned out by Bill’s hysterical laughter as Richie squeezed at the flesh just above his knees.
“BAAAAAHAHA! R-R-RUH-R-AAAHAHAHA!” His stutter grew too heavy to speak and his loud laughter interrupted his sentence. He wasn’t even really sure what he was going to say, but all his mind was screaming at him was that this sensation was unbearable.
Bill’s laughter grew silent after a little too long, and Richie took this as his queue to stop. Eddie followed suit, releasing Bill’s pinned arms.
Instantly, Bill curled up on himself, residual giggles pouring from his lips and hair falling in his face.
Then, silence again.
Until...
“Hic!”
Heads turned to Bill again, and there was another pause.
“Hic!”
Bill had caught the hiccups from laughing too hard.
All three of the other’s cooed at how cute it was, only causing Bill’s cheeks to turn an impossible shade of pink. “Sh-sh-sh-shut up! Hic!”
“You’re just too cute, big Bill,” Richie grinned, messing up his hair before standing and sitting back where he had before, picking up his comic. But before he continued reading, he had to ask a burning question.
“Hey Stan?” Richie asked.
“Mm?”
“How did you know all of Bill’s weak spots?” He asked.
“That’s not all of them. His tummy and neck are super sensitive to raspberries,” Stan stated plainly again, not even looking away from his book.
“Noted,” Richie grinned, eyes darting briefly over to the flustered boy still curled up in the corner, catching his breath. Then he looked back to stan. “But, how do you know that?”
There was the slightest pause.
“Private tickle fights,” Stan responded. And for the first time Richie had seen that evening, a flicker of a smile flashed over the Jew’s face. Just for a moment.
Characters: Bill, Richie, Eddie, Stan + the losers
Summary: Bill enjoys initiating tickle fights to then to lean back and watch, but Richie won’t always let him go without joining.
A/N: This started as one idea and turned into another which IN TURN turned into another, so this might be a mess but I’m happy with it lol
Words: 891
Bill would do it simply because it was too funny to see them all try to disguise their reactions. A brush to Ben’s side just to have him jump away and pretend he tripped over something no one could see. A poke to Mike’s lower back to get him to squirm, hand shooting back to scratch at the skin as if it had been simply an itch. Since they pretended as if nothing was happening they couldn’t call him out on it either.
His favorite one to mess with though was Eddie, but it was a whole other ballpark with him. Rather than pretend and deny, he was the only one to straight up admit it tickled him.
“Cut it out,” he would say as Bill reached for his knee. “I’m ticklish.”
And Richie, who tickle attacked them all without qualms, always agreed that he was very ticklish, almost always demonstrating by going for spots Bill assumed he’d discovered when alone, for Bill hadn’t ever seen the attack that had led to Eddie covering his ears, his hips, his neck whenever Richie approached him with wiggling fingers. Richie had just known one day, but always went for belly and knees whenever Bill was around and saving the unusual spots for privacy.
In a way, Bill enjoyed this scenario more because he could simply lean back and watch after that, as Eddie backed away but never ran. Bill couldn’t tell if it was because he knew he would never escape, or if this was a game he secretly enjoyed, too.
Bill had always enjoyed watching them more than participating, he realized. His initiations were partly due to his glee in watching them pretend, but also because there was a chance that someone else would see and would join in. He couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, but seeing them succumb to this childish, authentic playfulness calmed something in his soul; a fear that they were growing up way too quickly that summer.
He couldn’t always escape it himself, he realized, especially not with a merciless Richie Tozier around.
When he was done with Eddie that day, having reduced him to a nearly wheezing heap on the floor (Richie only showed mercy when it came to Eddie’s asthma), his gaze flickered to Bill. “Your turn.”
He could never understand Richie’s system for picking his next victim, and so trying to avoid being singled out was useless, although he tried. “No, d-don’t,” he said, quickly on his feet with his arms outstretched, palms exposed in Richie’s direction.
“I saw the way you tried to pick a fight with Eddie just now,” Richie replied, approaching him. “I gotta apologize for ruining the fun for you, big Bill.”
Unlike Eddie, Bill did run, though he could never make it very far. This time because Stan took it upon himself to help Richie of all people by grabbing for him to keep him still. Well, as still as you could be while thrashing.
“It’s been a while since I heard him laugh,” Stan said, as if it would be a sufficient excuse for this betrayal.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh,” Beverly replied.
“Oh, you’re gonna love it,” Richie said, closing the distance between them. “It’s beautiful.”
Bill’s laughter was similar to his speech; hiccupy, divided into parts rather than one long stream of sound. He only felt self conscious about it when it was uncontrollable, like it could get when he was tickled good enough. But he found he never felt insecure when around the other losers, and so he only minded because he was usually properly pinned and tickled to bits at that point. But Richie, despite what Bill had baptized him as, was actually rather kind to him when tickling him. At least now, around others. It was a whole other story when alone, as he was sure it was for Eddie too.
Stan was still holding him when Richie went for his ribs, going for the kill instantly but only for a moment. Bill couldn’t understand his own reactions, but his squirming became calmer now that he was being attacked than when he was still anticipating it, and he slipped down onto the ground with Stan and Richie following, Stan even joining in by getting his neck.
It could be embarrassing, being tickled into submission in front of them all, but it wasn’t. Feeling so pressured to be a leader, to be big Bill, this was the one time he was allowed to let go of the little control he actually had. They all knew that, but they never abused it. If he wanted it, he would ask for it by provoking, by initiating. And if that only led to him watching others get tickled, so be it. He never minded that.
When they were done the three of them remained on the ground, Bill becoming more aware of it all and feeling his face heat up for different reasons than having just laughed his head off. He wasn’t sure whether it was noticeable, but Richie gave his side a nudge - a silent reassurance.
Bill caught Bev’s eye, her smile so bright it made him want to allow Richie another round just to keep seeing it, but Richie was already heaving himself up and glancing around the room. “Who’s next?”
