"Jeremy—! Cut that out—!" Michael giggled as Jeremy traced his fingers along his tummy, taking his sweet time to admire Michael's stretch marks.
"Nah!" Jeremy giggled along with Michael, stopping the tracing for a second to just gently squeeze Michael's tummy. "You're so cute!"
"Lihihies!" Michael squeaked as Jeremy went back to tracing along each stretch mark. It was something they did every once in a while, to show each other they were appreciated and loved.
Jeremy finally stopped after a few seconds, letting Michael catch his breath. Michael rolled over onto his side, still giggling softly and had pulled his shirt back down. "It's funny how you can never handle that!"
"You're one to talk."
Michael gently grabbed Jeremy's hands and pinned them down to the side. Jeremy squealed as he realized what was about to happen. "Michael! Michael do not—" Jeremy was cut off by his own shrieks and giggles as Michael placed gentle kisses on each of Jeremy's stretch marks.
"MICHAEL!!" Jeremy tried to yell between giggles.
"This is your own fault." Michael hummed as he nuzzled his face into Jeremy's tummy. All Jeremy could do was try his hardest to wiggle away from the taller boy.
"MICHA PLEASE!" Jeremy begged as he laughed, but Michael just ignored him as he let go of Jeremy's hands. Now he was squeezing Jeremy's hips, and even with free hands jeremy couldn't muster the strength to push him off.
Michael slowed down the tickles to Jeremy could catch his breath. Jeremy was giggling still and sighed. "Are we even..?"
"Nope." Michael said, taking a deep breathe. He blew a raspberry on Jeremy's tummy, making Jeremy scream and burst into snorts and laughter. "Okay, now I'm done!" He said, resting the side of his head on Jeremy's tummy, lightly still tracing over Jeremy's stretch marks.
That caused a small but steady stream of giggles from Jeremy's mouth. "You're the wohohorst!"
However, none of these things scared Michael as much as the concept of telling the truth. He could fight zombies on Xbox without breaking a sweat, he could even probably fight them in real life. But the idea of telling Jeremy his true feelings this Halloween, that was the scariest thing of all.
It was tradition that before trick or treating the boys would play three rounds of the annual Halloween addition of Apocalypse Of The Damned. Jeremy noticed that, in contrast to other years, Michael wasn't doing so well in the game.
Jeremy paused it, "Ok, what's up?"
Michael squeaked, "Nothing".
"Come on", Jeremy said, scooting his beanbag closer to Michael's, "You've never played this shittily before".
Michael chuckled, "Shitilly, that's a funny word".
"I'm serious man!", Jeremy said, "What the hell is up?"
"Nothing", Michael defended, "Honestly, I guess I'm just a little tired today".
"You got eleven hours of sleep last night. You texted me in the morning", Jeremy said.
Michael just shook his head, "Whatever, can we get back to playing?"
"Not until we figure out what's troubling you".
Michael rolled his eyes, "I'll tell you later".
"No", Jeremy said, "Tell me now".
Michael just shook his head weakly.
Jeremy smirked, "Maybe this will change your mind...TICKLE FIGHT!"
Michael barely had time to move before Jeremy pushed him backwards into his beanbag, pinching and squeezing at his stomach where Michael was most ticklish.
Michael spat out bursts of laughter, his glasses falling down his nose.
"Nohohot fair! I wasn't reheheady!"
"Than you better get ready", Jeremy teased. He knew that Michael could be cheered up just by laughing alone, but he was still interested in what was on his mind on the first place. And his goofy giggles seemed...cute.
Lost in this unexpected thought, Jeremy was distracted enough for Michael to grab his arm and flip him over.
Jeremy was left with his torso spread out over the beanbag and his neck hanging over the edge.
"Wait, noho, Michael!"
Michael wiggled his fingers up and down Jeremy's sides and under his arms. He giggled and turned and twisted and laughed and, well, he was just the handsomest most adorable boy Michael had ever seen.
Jeremy finally stuck a hand up to retalliate, and got a well aimed squeeze on the sides of Michael's stomach. They switched positions again, Jeremy turning Michael over.
Jeremy's tickling was ruthless, and Michael was getting out of breath.
"I, I, I", Michael was panting and stuttering, from both recovery and nerves. This was it, the scariest part of haloween.
"I, erm, kinda....have a crush on you".
The room was silent for a second.
A word echoed in Michael's brain: RETREAT!
He got up and ran in terror, like one would run from a monster.
"Oh no you don't", Jeremy said, grabbing Michael's arm, haulting him, "I think your kinda cute too".
Michael's body froze, he could feel his heart beating in his ears, "Really?"
"Michael, I, I like you too", Jeremy said affirmingly.
He stood up to face Michael directly, looking into his eyes.
Jeremy awkwardly leaned forward to kiss him. Michael leaned back, but his glasses knocked against Jeremy's nose, blocking him. The two laughed at Michael's stupid glasses, which Michael left abandoned on the couch in favour of the kiss.
Author’s note: Hello-ho-ho-ho!! My gosh, is it already 25th? I can’t believe in this, neither that the world is so small, @scribbly-gigs, after all I’m your Squealing Santa too!! I really hope you enjoy this gift, because your prompt was absolutely adorable! I fell in love for its and aaaaa! Best. Idea. Ever.
Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift!
But, before the fanfic, I would like to give a specially thank to @ticklygiggles for hosting this wonderful event! It was an absolutely lovely experience, thanky you veryy much!! >w<)s2</i>
Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:
* This characters don’t belongs to me! Jeremy and Michael belongs to the musical Be More Chill.
* The song in the benning is Hide and Seek, a cover by Lizz Robinett
* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b
* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/
* Portugese’s Version (Brazilian’s one) coming soon! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Have a wonderful and incredible, festive or not, day! Take care with you gonna prank anyone (And only do if they’re okay with it) , they can get revenge. ~
[~*~]
Ding Dong I know you can hear me
Open up the door
I only wanna play a little.
- What the fu… – Opened his eyes, the song suddenly swallowing him from his dream. He blinked a few times, his hands going toward his cellphone, vision finally focusing in the middle of the dimly lit darkness by sunlight, which managed to passes through the small slits in the curtains successfully. The device was not turned on.
Ding Dong you can’t keep me waiting
It’s already too late
For you go and try to run away. ~
He turned to the closet, where, on the floor, a small device vibrated, its screen glooming and being entirely responsible for proliferation of the calm background melody, which for some unknown reason made a feeling of cold, gelid fear spread through every inch of his body, growing more and more stronger as the light brown-haired reeling approached. His mind still foggy by tiredness.
Whose phone was that?
I see you through the window
Our eyes are locked together
I can sense your horror
Though I’d like to see it closer.~~
He bent down to turn it off.
Wait…
He recognized this phone cover! It was from-
- DING DONG! – The door slammed open, almost as fast as the fall from the one who just had woken up, the light suddenly invading every particle from his room along with the excitedly extremely loud scream – HURRY UP AND RUUUUUN! LET’S PLAY A LITTLE GAME AND HAVE FUN!!
- MICHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
It was crystal clear that Michael wanted to utter some words, something so easy to say by the way that small portions of sentences sought to slip through his lips. However, he was being completely hindered by his own (blood from his blood!!) uncontrollable laughter, needing a firm grip on the doorjamb to not collapse with the other’s fright. Jeremy placed his hand in his chest, feeling the heart skip some beats at a great speed and trying to control at least a small piece of his ragged breathing.
- I should have recorded this! My holy Pacman, why didn’t I record this??? – Wiped few tears that accumulated at the corner of his eyes. The onslaught of laughter threatening to come back again as he faced the poor, poor teenager with his pajamas, hair and appearance full of mess. The one who has the sad fate of being the target of his prank and now demonstrated his gratitude by showing a very specific finger to him.
- I will end with your existence, just give me a second. I-I need to recover my soul, I think it ran out the window. – Got up, finally succeeding in breath normally, his gaze was sharp, or the most close as possible with the sleep that still covered his features, but he couldn’t deny the smile, part vengeful and part because he have to give it to him: it was a good prank; that he struggled to doesn’t let its took over his face. – Why? Just… Why??
- Because today is the International Double-Cosplay Chaaaaaaaallenge day!! – Michael was literally bouncing excitedly, gesturing as if he presented the answer to a huge and attentive audience and not a young man slowly coming down the stairs, still yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes while leading the trail to the kitchen.
Oh, the Double-Cosplay Challenge.
It could even be seen as a tradition, a very ancient one, held of years without end. Not one of the seculars, though, that ones initiated in some trunk of time, which, if asked, No one would really know to explain from where it emerged. In fact, Jeremy almost remembered perfectly (‘perfectly, sure, it’s a hyperbole. Jeremy imagined his memory as a miniature of fish Dory. So, remembering more than six or five actions of a day that had gone years ago was a progress!) the way it all started.
Like most things in his friendship with Michael, of course it had began with teasing that led to a semi-fight where both sides argued, yet without really having any warm in their words. For this time, the focus of the discussion was the ease and speed that Jeremy could paint every square of himself with blush as the slightest instigation…
(...)
- Could you stop??? – Heere jerked away by impulse, his cheeks already beginning to flush in pink for the squeal he uttered due the light blow that Michael dumped on his ear. – We’re in the middle of the game!!!
- Do you mean that if we weren’t playing it wouldn’t be a problem, then? – Malefic smile. Jeremy felt the blush spread even more.
- Wha- Sure it would be!!!!
- Hmmm… I bet that would be okay if it was Christiiiiine doing that. – He mimicked a singing tone as he spoke her name, losing control over his car for a minute and being hit by a tortoise shell. – Damn, Bowser!! You were my favorite character, dude!!
- Yeah, yeah. Keep talking while I take the lead!- The light brown-haired smirked, his tongue sticking out as he dodged a few drivers and climbed some positions in the ranking.
- Ha! You couldn’t win this match even if you wanted to. – Jumped and hit one of the floating boxes with the question mark. Got the cannonball. – Just as you can’t stop to being a mess flushed even by the wind!
- Is that so? And what about the Pinkberry employee? - Michael’s car was out of control for a piece of moment and Jeremy allowed himself to take his eyes off the screen for a few seconds just to catch the other’s face now painted with a light blush and a wobbly smile. – See? We’re rotten apples from the same basket, compadre.
- Lucky shot.
- Ability. – He corrected, contradicting his words, his automobile went straight towards the water. The Player Two wrinkled his nose.
- The thing is, unlike you, I can control my blush. I would win from 10 to 1 if this were a competition.
- I bet. – It was the magic word. Michael paused the game immediately, both turning to stare each other, the glare full of dangerous burning in their eyes, a grin finding space in their faces.
- How much?
A brief silence spreaded across the room, barely finding space with all the adrenaline and electricity following Jeremy’s thoughtful glaze as he searched in his mind for an award up to the challenge.
- The one who be the most blushy, for most period of time or a greater amount of times, that is, who made the best tomato cosplay earn the right to try to survive for…
(...)
- …a week wearing a cosplay that the winner, and by this I mean I, - Michael gesticulated pompously, not even paying attention to the friend and opponent, who calmly hummed as setted the breakfast. – choose. At school, on the street, in home… With a break of five daily hours to wash and dry, as well as permission to get it off to sleep, BUT, that’s all. – Evil laugh. – I hope you are prepared, Heere. Because this year I choose the best cos-
His eyes finally went to find the breakfast table, setted with a blue and red tablecloth where the phrase ‘Best Player nº1’ was practically completely hidden by the delicacies deposited on it: Pacman-shaped Pancakes, some being stuffed with hazelnut cream; Some cups with iced coffee, a small bowl of fruit salad, the common eggs and bacons; waffles with cream and blueberry spreading their sweet scent along the Special Christmas Donuts, available only for one hour after the local bakery opens. That cost great hours of Jeremy’s sleep, which immediately worth it just in watching the utterly surprised and clumsy expression from the one who wears glasses.
- …tume… – His mouth hang wide open and he blinked several times, as if it was all a mirage about to disappear at any second. Michael simply couldn’t believe all his favorites dishes were really gathered in a only table in a only one meal.
- To my faworite pewson. – The one in pajamas guides him to the chair; happily enjoying the blush consumes his friend’s cheeks.
Fun Fact: Michael is hardly embarrassed by usual teasing and/or flirting. The thing that can truly make him mirror the color of his hoodie was actions and true, sincere compliments. It was as if the boy really didn’t expected anyone to thought about him long enough to prepare a gift or perceive and admire his actions… That always reminded Jeremy why he liked this day so much.
- You play dirty, Heere. - The Mell finally managed to find words between his surprise, unable to look away and face the other with the dangerous smirk that was his mark.
- I need to get to your level. – His voice bathed itself in a (fake) sweet tune, the teasing being enough to successfully capture the attention from the one in hoodie, leading their eyes to meet. Jeremy blinked innocently.
- I just forgive you because of the donuts! They are like, an impossible legend, which I just heard being told and retold in all my years of life, waiting for the right moment when I finally could have it in my arms. – The light brown-haired rolled his eyes, smiling with the exaggerated description. – But don’t even think about getting used to my forgiveness! You won’t be so lucky ne-
His sentence and merciful act have been interrupted by a high pitch squeak from Jeremy, who jerked away instinctively from Michael’s finger that poked him, protecting his tummy defensively, a wobbly, unstable smile in his face.
Immediately thousands of memories and empirical data invaded the Mell’s mind, and, the more and more his brain reminded him, the more and more a predatory expression got strength and color in his face.
- Oh, never mind. – Jeremy gulped, all his instincts beating like a bright red ‘r u n’ signal shining in the middle of a desert road on a stormy dawn. He felt himself starting to increase the distance between both. – It seems like you are out of lucky right now.
And the race begin, this time out of the videogames’ screen.
(…)
- Oh Heeeere!~ - His tune could be described as ‘singing’ if it was not the panting voice due the attempts to still in maximum speed in pursuit of the Player Two. – Why do you keep running away from my love? This hurts. Sadface.
- I bet it didn’t hurt more than my fall for you! – Jeremy’s only relief was that Michael would rather to lock himself on the basement to play than exercise in his free time. His only sadness was that he also would rather lock himself on the basement with Michael to play videogames in their free time, which mean that neither of them had the slightest, and necessary, disposition to any sports.
However Michael at least was lucky, which uneven unfairly his chances. In the first opportunity he got, the one on the pajamas placed the coffe table between them.
- Naaah. – The prankster started to encircle the table, analyzing the friend and opponent do the same action, but in the opposite direction. – Easy peachy compared to the time you stole my heart.
- It was just to return the favor, since you stole mine first… - His gaze drifted to the stairs right behind the one who wears glasses. If he could dodge him and make to his room, he could lock himself there and spend the next hours on the safety and comfort of his computer and bed. His glare returned to Michael… All there was needed was a distraction. – No, wait, in truth, it was always yours.
- Not in the same way that I am yours. – Wink.
- But do you know what is just yours and you could give to me? – The dirty joke came and went away before it could be mentioned by the dark brown-haired, who failed in not burst out laughing. – Your hand!!
Jeremy took vantage of the small moment of carelessness to rush out.
Good Point?
He managed to dodge Michael!! Yeaah!! Phase one completed with praise!
Bad Point? (Suuuure that always it has to exists a bad one! It was too boring for your standards, wasn’t it, Universe?)
He couldn’t even research the stairs before being knocked down on the carpet. He turned himself over, fighting for a few minutes stuffed with laugh and pieces of phrases (‘Michael, don-‘; ‘Could you stop, Heere!?’; ‘Just if you let me go!’; ‘Ouch! Damn, my glasses!’; ‘Gyah! Sorr- Hey! No! Nonono!’), at least until Michael finally find a gap in his barrier, wasting no time in attacking his bare foot, pulling a squeal from the one on pajamas, which worked like a race start, being immediately followed by dozens of giggles as his fingers danced in a lively rhythm: poking, scratching and wriggling in each centimeter of available skin.
- MihihihihihihihihihihihichaACK- Michael never played any instruments for much in his life, but he assumed that this is how the musicians should feel. Wriggling: Squeal; Poking that exactly spot in the middle of his sole: Shriek; Each scratch could give him a different melodious sound depending on the spot he was attacking. - NOHOHOHOHOHOHOhohohohohOHOHO!!
- What did you said, Heere? Mind repeat? I can’t understand any word in the middle of your adorable giggles. – Jeremy rocked his arms from side to side without really managing to coordinate them to do something useful. The sensation took over his mind and all his nerves. However, he was still able to hear and understand another words beyond his own giggles, which automatically made a heat spread quickly through all his face. - Awwwn!! You already are blushiiiing. ~
- Shuhuhuhuhuhut UHUHUhuhp!! NononO! Nohohohoht thehehehere! – And then more uncontrollable laughter began to float from his lips as Michael’s nails found their way to the ticklish skin right under his toes.
- ‘There’, where? Did you mean… here? – One of his hands held his toes in order to unfold them while the other tickled without a single drop of mercy. Jeremy felt himself jump in a sit position, trying to focus his tearing eyes enough to stop the assault. It took just a few pokes in his tummy to make he lay down again.
- NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahaHAHA! – His eyes were closed and his nose wrinkled. His whole body shook with the loud, shrill laughs that spilled from his mouth without any barrier; only being interrupted by some squeak or yelp as the Player One decided to get bored with his toes and quickly changed the tickle attack to his knees. Started to switch from one to another in random patterns, squeezing his kneecaps or giving an especial attention to the extremely, unfairly ticklish skin under them.
That leading the laugh to grow even louder and the sensations more and more unbearable. Michael happily watched when Jeremy swung his legs up, seeking to curl in a protection ball, “obliging” him to retaliate with a series of kneads on his thighs, causing the light brown-haired to frantically kick, trying to free himself from the tickles, leading Michael to go back to his knees and restart the loop all over again.
- S-Sthohohohohohohop!! – He let out a frustration groan in the fifth time it happened. The Mell couldn’t help but evil crackle at that, also being helped by the fact that Jeremy’s laugh was extremely contagious.
- I don’t know what are you talking about, Heere! All I can ever hear is the victory sound of me winning the Double-Cosplay challenge this year!!
- YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU WIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHISH-nono! No, pleaSE! nHOHOHT THeherHEHEHEs!
- Is this your final answer, then? – Michael stared at him, the mischievous grin still very present, even though Jeremy didn’t saw it. The sunshine flooded the victim’s face, only further highlighting the freckles already favored by the blush, which literally cover his entire face, now. Jeremy shook his head side to side, as if denying the fate that was about to catch him, or as if answered the question from the other, Michael just shrugged and decided to ignore the act. – So, that’s it! Be prepared to the Ultimate Tickle Attack!!
He stopped.
And the Player Two used the opportunity of a break to take some sips of air, finally being able to shrunk in a defensive ball. The crackling laughter still bouncing gladly from his mouth that couldn’t at all undo the big bright smile going ear to ear in his features. It really seemed to illuminate the place.
His hand trembled a little as he wiped tears that managed to slide across his burning cheeks. The laughing now became giggling and finally starting to fade.
And then he realized.
Not even a whisper from Michael.
He opened his eyes, a little confused, and suddenly shivers ran thundering down his spine, spreading through each of his ticklish spots, making them tingle more, perhaps in the same amount of times that the Mell approached his fingers teasingly until they were a few inches above his calves.
Damn! Cursed be these years of friendship and all the tickle fights in their childhood that give him the knowledge about this particular spot.
- Mihihihichael! – His giggles came back strident, his smile threatened to widen further. Jeremy bitted softly the tip of his tongue, trying to do at least a threatening expression, yet too much excitedly for it. The one in hoodie quickly lowered his hand, stopping before he could research the place, leading the other to jump and release a pinched scream would never admitted being his in the future. Butterflies danced in his stomach. – NohohoHOT eVEn thIHIHIhihnk abohohohut th-
- Not touchin you, dude! – The prankster laughed starting to wiggle his fingers, and, even though they didn’t have touched him yet, Jeremy could already feel it. Feel the uncontrolled laughter in his chest, the nerves tingling eagerly, the eyes closing reflexively and… - If I knew it was so easy to make you blush just with that I already would won this tournament years ago!! – His face was going to melt, he was absolutely sure of that. It was going to melt and he would be obligated to wear the stupid mask of whatever cosplay Michael chose for him for the rest of his life!! – And I’m not even doing anything, literally!
- Shuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuht uhuhuhuhuhuhuhp, youhohohor sadihihihistic!! – The heat just spread stronger, arriving to the tip of his ears. He attempted to shrink more in defense; however, the Player One held his leg, his other hand resting on his chest, as if he were truly offended.
- Jeremy! – He faked another attack, almost losing control of his dramatic pose and laughing when the Heere snorted. – Now, that was not the manners I gave you! I’m not even doing anything and a puddle of adorable giggles offends me! Humpf… – He wander lightly his index finger through all the extension of his calf, each inch releasing a new squeal tone.
- Sohohorry!! Sohohohohohohohohohohrrehehehey! – He pushed his leg, trying to free himself from the deadly grip. Michael didn’t even bother into pretending to ponder about his apologies, and then the light brown-haired knew he was screwed up in the exact moment he find that glint the other’s eye.
- Nah. I would rather return the favor. – And, as he said, started to ruthlessly knead his calves.
Jeremy never had fought that much in his life. All of his muscles squirmed; reacting to the warning signals they received from his nerves, which probably were all very confused when they heard his laughter. Powerful, loud and fully stuffed with screams, laughter. His mind went in a total collapse and he could only focus on the tickling, finding his synapses unable to form a single coherent word, neither a sentence.
Michael stopped. Half because he had pity to see the tears began to wash the friend’s cheeks and the other half because he was afraid that some neighbor would call the police with the screams from the shorter; and also because he couldn’t control his own laughter anymore. Grateful to be seated, he leaned against the outsider arm of the couch, his voice mingling with the remained giggles from the other. Both flying in the air.
For a moment, the duo stayed just like this: Laughing.
- Yohohohohou ahahahahare the worhohohohost! – Wiped his tears, finally managing to remove the sensations rubbing the spot that, probably, was the most ticklish and unlikely to have. Thanked to the pure, fresh air entering his lungs, which seemed to give him strength to sit and stare the shape who still laughing.
An awesome idea crossed by his brain and camped there. A little cliché, that is true, but he felt deserving this privilege.
His hands met the armpits of the Player One, without moving, who instinctively downed his arms, an uncharacteristic squeak now running from his lips. Jeremy enjoyed the sense of power he had when the opponent, in the videogames and for this day, faced him with wide eyes, struggling with a smile in his face.
- Je-jeremy… Come on, pal, dude, friend... – The one on pajamas just smiled in response, turning softly his head, like a puppy staring you doubtfully about your despair as hold your only short in their mouth, paws flexed and about to run through the beach, to anywhere as long is far from you (Long and funny story, ask Mr Heere to show you the video later.) and wasted no time before start the attack.
Michael held his breath. His lips suppressed in a arc as they were pressed strongly, refusing to let out a single giggle from the thousands that already stirred in his throat.
- What the matter? – Jeremy chuckled, noticing the not-so-subtly effort from the newer victim to control himself, just getting even clear when his legs began to squirm. The light brown-haired positioned himself on his right, already knowing what was coming, his face approached further. – Wouldn’t you happen to be… too ticklish for that, right?
He started to slowly scribble in the other’s armpits, the glint in his eyes glowing as watched him jumping with the touch and hugging his sides, fighting more with the waterfall of giggles trying to pour from his lips and this struggle seeming about to make him explode, due how much his cheeks puffed and blushed. The Mell shook his head.
- Phew, what a relief. – The Player Two faked a relieved sigh, as if heavy chains were removed from his back. His face got closer, Michael stared at him, fear and expectation shining mingled up in his expression, red beginning to grew stronger in his face. S c o r e. – So you won’t mind if I get a itty bitty revenge, right?
And started to blow right on that spot behind his ear, something that the friend did almost daily and now tasted what he so gladly distributed. Michael squealed, the barriers finally giving in and being quickly subdued by the snorts and giggles as fingers skillfully poked and wriggled in his armpits, taking more speed and strength, just as Michael’s fight to escape from his fate.
- Michael! We are in a serious competition here! I would like to see a little more compromising from your side!! – His head moved away as he stopped in order to teasing the other’s neck. Changing his tactics to verbal teasing and, even though he didn’t threatened back to his neck anymore, the ‘victim’ still kept his shoulders up, as if by precaution.
- FUHUHUHUHUHUACK!! – The light brown-haired was able to release his hands from the friend’s gasp, giving him some free seconds before immediately tickle his sides. – PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHhahahahahahahAHAHAHA! – His tune got a fewer octaves higher, flinching a little as Jeremy alternated between kneading his left, squeeze his right and then attack both at the same time.
Fun fact: Michael did not squirmed, he trashed his body side to side in a mad dance ruled by the melody of his own deep, frenetic and uncontrollable belly laughter that fled without any permission from his mouth. Therefore, tickle his legs or even sit on them to try pinning him down was practically impossible. His upper body, on the other hands, due his fear of tossing away his glasses, were easier to deal.
- Wait… Oh no, Michael! I discovered! – His eyes even attempted to meet with the other’s, but these were tightly closed, tears starting to welling up in the corner. The Heere forced himself to slow the attack, noticing the crackling laugh and shrieks that started to took over Michael’s loud, and completely contagious, laughter. He drank a little of air, still letting squeals and giggles escape from his lips for the soft tracing in his tummy, one of the Mell’s hand holding his wrist, but didn’t doing nothing to really stop the tickle. – You are not able to command your laughter!
- Nohohohoho shi- A lightly squeezing in his hips was enough to make a yelp interrupt the rest of his sarcastic sentence.
- This is extremely serious! But do not fear, as your best friend, I will help you! I am almost sure that I find a Resert Buttom!!
The one who wears glasses felt his smile grow wider, more for the nonsense from the other than anything else. He tried to ignore the rising heat spreading now across his neck.
A finger poked his navel and the jump Mell did nearly broke the ceiling, together with a squeal that Jeremy definitely would remind him later. The Player Two used all his willpower to not fall on the floor laughing with the other’s reaction, especially when this one actually began to really try to remove his hands from anywhere closer of his most ticklish spot, miserably failing when Jeremy suddenly started to give quick tickles in any and every where to distract him.
-Heere, dohohohohon’t you dahahahahahare! – His hands were in a total uncontrolled frenzy, just as his euphoric giggles.
- I-I’m just- Their laugh were now mixed as danced through the room, especially when in an act of pure despair Michael attacked his ribs, making him really start laughing for real. Oh no!! He wouldn’t win this one!! – I’m juhuhuhuhuhst trying tohohoho hehehehehehelp, yohohohour ungreatuful!!! Boop!
And then his finger finally was able to tickle his belly button, wriggling, poking an causing a real scream to leave the other’s lips, as a small signal before the loud, mad and extremely frenetic laughter exploded from his mouth. He jostled and babbled non-ended words that even he had no idea with what they were supposed to mean.
He was getting crazy. Michael was absolutely sure. His head was thrown back with the strength of the laughter and for a moment everything, even the tickles that spread through every little inch in his body as unbearable and hilarious shivers, disappeared.
A piece of rationality, the last one, made him attack and scribble his fingers in some unprotected skin from his opponent. It didn’t mattered where it was, and yes that seconds later Jeremy’s laughter started to go along his owns, showing that retaliation was working.
Both rolled out on the floor, laughing, snorting, yelping, squealing, squeaking, giggling and equally trying to make the friend released the same sounds as himself. Their members shuffled, seeking to tickle any and all minimally reachable tickle spots, both unwilling to give up and both waiting to the other give in first.
Maybe it was the so-called ‘friendly telepathy’, the same one which allowed them to chat just with glares and always know what and when the other needed something. However, the duo slowly begun decreasing their attack almost simultaneously. The squeezes and kneads becoming pokes before turning into scratching and scribbles until they finally broke apart, staring the opponent for a few hesitant seconds (not that they really could properly see each other through all their tears happily spilling down their cheeks ) before laying on the floor. The remaint laughter being the only thing filling the silence, along with the panting breaths.
For a while they just stayed like that: laughing.
The sun’s rays started to heat the room, showing it wasn’t that early anymore and probably the donuts were already cold by this moment. Cars were passing outside and some dog somewhere barked desperately, the sound not echoing louder than their hearts, which stilled seeking to calm down themselves after the strange and high dose of adrenaline.
Jeremy was the first to speak, raising his arm and waving as it like a white flag.
- Draw?
- Keep dreaming. – Michael’s voice was slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat while the one on pajamas rolled his eyes, none of them really succeeding in removes the bright smile in their faces. – Truce for breakfast?
They sat, not taking too long to get up as hear the angry protests from their stomachs, they shook their hands, sealing the quick agreement. Their eyes met and, for a piece of moment both ignored how much redder they were, their minds now just focusing on the eagerly awaited meal.
Title: Relaxation
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel
Summary: Ticklish!Michael; Lucifer and Gabe just wanted their big brother to relax for once. For: @heavenly-raspberries
Original Prompt: I had an idea for a fanfic. How about Lucifer and Gabriel ganging up on Michael and tickling him until he agrees to relax more. Set before Lucifer fell. By the way, I love your writing!
It was a well known fact that Michael was a very serious angel. As the first son created, he took his job very seriously to watch over everyone else. He stressed himself out to know end, trying to keep heaven in order and dealing with all his millions of brothers. It was a lot of responsibility for one angel.
That’s why, Lucifer and Gabriel liked messing around with him. It gave Michael a chance to have a bit of fun since he never seemed to do so himself. He just needed a little push. Lucifer and Gabriel were the best to do so for him. They were the Pranksters of Heaven, Lucifer teaching his young protégé everything he knew.
That included getting Michael to relax.
It wasn't actually a hard task to do, though getting him off guard was tricky. So, they devised a plan to get their mission into action. Gabriel, still being a sorta small fledgling was gonna distract Michael while Lucifer came from behind. Michael’s and Lucifer’s grace were similar but since Michael was the oldest, his was stronger so they needed to get him properly off guard.
Gabriel walked over to were Michael was watching the warriors spar and tugged on Michael’s white toga. His caramel eyes were watery and a very realistic bruise was on his arm.
“Gabriel, what did you do?” Michael scolded softly, concern in his stern voice as he held the ‘hurt’ arm.
“I-I was playing in th-the garden and fell from the tree tryin’ t-to fly,” Gabriel sniffled, trying to get into Michael’s arms.
The oldest angel sighed and scooped up his younger brother, not knowing he was giving a thumbs up to Lucifer who was sneaking behind them.
“You know you’re not allowed to play in the garden, I've told you that a hundred times. That is for father’s newest creations.”
“But i like the gardens.”
“Still, you are not to go-ACK!” Michael yelped loudly as they tumbled forward, a heavy force, knocking them down.
Gabriel quickly squirmed out of Michael’s arms as Lucifer straddled his brother.
“Hiya, Mikey!”
“Lucifer,” Michael growled, eyes flickering to a slightly guilty, slight excited looking Gabriel, the bruise magically gone. “I should of known.”
“Shoulda but you didn't, meaning I still have my skill,” Lucifer preened, smirking down at him. “Anyway, you ready?”
“For what, featherbrain?”
“Relaxation!” Lucifer smirked wider as Michael’s eyes bulged, all too familiar to Lucifer’s relaxation methods.
“No No, I’m good. Don‘t you dare make he have to throw you off!”
“Are you threatening me?!” Lucifer mock gasped. “Oh that’s it! Get his feet!”
“NOOO!”
Michael’s shout was drowned out by loud hysterical laughter as his two younger brothers went to his worst spot, both of their grace combined to keep him in place. He couldn't escape.
“STAHAHAP LUHUHUCIFER! GAHAHABE PLEHEHEASE!”
“No way! This is so fun!” Lucifer chuckled, spidering over the sensitive soles.
“EEK! NAHAHA DOHOHONT!”
“Toes toes toes!” Gabriel hummed, dragging one of his golden brown feathers between Michael’s wiggling toes.
Summary: After Michael takes a metaphorical bullet for Philippa, the Captain has some unique discipline.
Words: 4,281
Stardate 1194.7
Planet Tulsa II
Commander Burnham ducked under the sword of a Tulsian tribesman, popping up behind him and firing her phaser at point-blank range. Lucky for him, it was set to stun, but his back would be pretty sore when he woke up. She put her back to her Captain’s, protecting her and trusting that her Captain was doing the same. Together, they shot down nearly two dozen tribesmen, thinning out the seemingly-endless horde, before they were separated again when a Tulsian charged right at them, knocking Michael to the ground. They tussled for a moment before she stunned him with a particularly strong uppercut, then got him with her phaser. An upwards glance told her that Captain Georgiou had been carried a few meters away from her by the battle, but was still safe. Michael quickly refocused her attention on the carnage around her. It was supposed to have been a simple mission, retrieve the probe from where it had crashed on the planet’s surface, avoid the primitive natives, and continue on their way. As usual, nothing had gone as planned: the probe had been in a location impossible to transport to due to magnetic interference, so they’d had to materialize a few kilometers away and walk to the probe, free it from the surrounding rock debris, and haul it back to their beamup location. Unsurprisingly, some natives had found them, and just as they were about to beam up to the Shenzhou, fell upon them, primitive weapons held aloft. Michael did her best to inch closer to her Captain over the course of the battle, but the Tulsians were pretty handy with their metal weapons.
That was when it happened. A flicker of movement caught her eye, a Tulsian taking advantage of an opening behind her Captain, moving in for the kill. Her phaser was knocked out of her hand by a Tulsian barreling past her, and the Captain was distracted trying to shoot several Tulsians off one of their fallen crew members. Michael did the only thing she could think of in that moment: she ran the five steps it took to reach her Captain and threw herself in front of her, just in time for the Tulsian’s sword to thrust through her chest and out her back. He snarled and yanked his sword back out of her, the light of the planet’s twin suns glancing off his mottled blue skin as he held his sword aloft and yelled his victory. The pain was exactly like she’d imagined, like her chest was being torn in half. It left her breathless, too breathless to cry out, and instead she fell, blurry vision filled with the red sky of the planet Tulsa.
Captain Georgiou held her phaser in both hands, rapidly focusing her aim and firing on the Tulsian warriors rampaging towards her. She felt Michael at her back, right where she always was, protecting her 6. She felt a flash of panic when a Tulsian appeared out of nowhere and crashed into her first officer, bowling her over, but a quick backwards glance showed that she was already getting to her feet. A lieutenant had been surrounded by several of the warriors and was on his back, firing wildly at the aliens that were quickly overwhelming him. She focused her fire on the creatures standing above him, hoping that they wouldn’t fall on top of him when they were stunned. A loud roar from behind her caught her attention, and the answering shouts from the rest of the warriors made her stomach flip. Drawn by the Tulsian’s victory call, Captain Georgiou whirled to find her second-in-command writhing weakly on the ground, blue uniform stained darker from the blood seeping from her chest. She stunned the warrior with the blood-stained blade before he could even close his mouth, and in an instant she was by her first officer’s side, one hand pressed to her wound to stem the bleeding and the other cradling her head.
Through drooping eyelids and teary vision, Michael saw her Captain’s face come into focus. Instead of her usual smirk and happiness, her face was creased and distraught. Over the din of the ongoing battle, she heard her Captain’s voice screaming into her comm badge for emergency beamup. Her eyes were shutting no matter how hard she tried to keep them open, tried to listen to her Captain telling her not to go to sleep, but the tingling of the transporter beam was the last thing she felt before she sunk into blackness.
As soon as Michael felt her body return to her control, she could tell something was wrong. Her chest felt light and fluttery, her bed was stiffer and colder than usual, the usual soft cotton of her sleep clothes was nowhere to be found. Something warm was enclosing her right hand, clasping it tightly. Michael replayed her last memories in her head, and it became increasingly clear to her that she was in sickbay. She waited until she felt in full control of her movements to open her eyes, squinting in the bright light as Captain Georgiou’s face came into focus. She was gazing distantly at a wall, face pinched with worry and exhaustion. Michael flexed her fingers within her Captain’s grip, letting her know she was awake. Immediately, the Captain released her hand. Michael reached out for a moment, missing the contact from the woman that had become like a mother to her, but she let her hand drop onto the bio-bed, chiding herself for being illogical.
“Doctor!” the Captain summoned Lieutenant Commander Nambue. He seemed both pleased and irritated that she was awake, likely because she was his least favourite patient.
“I see you’re awake, Commander Burnham. I was beginning to worry that wouldn’t wake up. The Tulsian weapon that injured you missed your heart by mere millimeters. It was thanks to the Captain’s immediate response that you were able to be saved.” Before he could continue, the Captain interrupted him, now standing over her first officer.
“You took a sword for me, Michael. Nearly through the heart.” Michael shrugged, then tried to hide the wince that followed, but from the narrowing of her Captain’s eyes, she had noticed. “That was incredibly stupid, Michael. You were almost killed!”
“It was me or you, Captain,“ her voice was huskier than normal, “and I wasn’t going to let it be you.” Captain Georgiou paused, clearly trying to think of a rebuttal, but before she could, the shipwide intercom interrupted with its telltale pop.
“Captain to the bridge.” The Captain’s lips thinned slightly, and she stared at her first officer for a moment.
“That was foolish, Michael.” With that, she turned and left, and the sight of her retreating back sent a tiny twinge of hurt through Michael’s heart, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. The doctor approached and gave her strict instructions for a minimum of three days of medical leave in which she was to participate in no physical activity, which she listened to with only half an ear. Most of her attention was on replaying her mental image of her Captain’s angry face. In all her years working with the woman, she’d only ever made her proud.
Michael hated medical leave. She was of the opinion that it was utterly useless. It did, however, give her the chance to catch up on some paperwork, so that was something. She dove into the menial bookwork with a drive unusual for her, eager to dismiss the visions of her Captain’s death that haunted her. She tried comming the woman a few times in her off-hours, but each time the answer was the same: she was busy, too busy to even grab some dinner with her first officer. It stung a little, but like with everything else, Michael shoved it down until she couldn’t feel it anymore.
She had been back on duty for about a week before it happened, a week of Captain Georgiou steadfastly ignoring the glances her first officer would send her way, a week of convincing herself that Michael’s puffy, exhausted eyes were just a figment of her own imagination. One morning, her ever-punctual first officer simply didn’t show up. Figuring that there was a first time for everything, and trying to give her first officer the benefit of the doubt, the Captain, and her entire bridge crew, waited with anticipation for the hiss of the bridge turbolift doors. After 10 minutes of near-silence on her normally buzzing bridge, Captain Georgiou rolled her eyes and attempted to comm her second in command, to no avail.
“Computer, locate Commander Burnham.”
“Commander Burnham is in her quarters.” The Captain frowned. It took another 20 minutes, a brief distraction avoiding an approaching comet, and several unaccepted comms before the Captain sighed heavily, stood up, and left the bridge.
“Saru, you have the bridge.”
Stopping in front of Michael’s quarters’ doors, the Captain listened for a moment, but she didn’t hear any signs of a struggle, or, thank goodness, a scandalous rendezvous with a crewmate.
“Computer, open these doors, security override Captain Philippa Georgiou, USS Shenzhou.” The computer beeped its compliance and the doors slid open. Commander Burnham, she noted, was still in bed. As her eyes adjusted further to the near-darkness and she stepped inside, she could see her first officer tossing and turning beneath her sheets, could hear choked whimpers emanating from her mouth. As Captain Georgiou drew closer, she could see Michael’s back arching, lean muscles filled with tension, and she could hear her brokenly whispering her name, over and over again. The Captain sat down on the bed next to her first officer, rubbing her arm and trying to wake her.
“Michael,” she called softly. “It’s time to wake up now.” Michael’s face pinched.
“Mom?” she murmured. The Captain shook her head gently.
“It’s Philippa. You’re having a nightmare.” Michael whimpered, writhing even more, despite the Captain’s efforts to calm her. With a final, stifled sob, she jerked awake, jolting upright in her bed.
Michael bolted upright, breathing erratic and heartrate wild. She closed her eyes against the dark room, breathing in and out and counting like Sarek had taught her when she’d had nightmares about the Klingon attack. When her breathing had calmed enough to keep her from having a panic attack, she began whispering reassurances to herself, to convince her heart of what her brain already knew.
“It was just a dream, Michael. Philippa’s asleep in her quarters. Just another nightmare.” The Captain had been reaching out to touch her shoulder, but stopped at the sound of her name. Her first officer still had her eyes squeezed shut, tears glistening on her cheeks and body quivering from her nightmare. “Computer,” Michael sighed. “Time?” Before the computer could answer, Philippa decided that she had sat there unnoticed long enough.
“Michael.” she said, as gently as she could. Michael gasped so quickly that her breath caught harshly in her throat, head whipping around to stare at her Captain. Her reaction was a testament to how vulnerable she was, that she could be scared so easily.
“Captain, I didn’t realize you were- why are you-“ she stammered, before the realization hit her. “Computer, time?”
“The time is 0853, Commander Burnham.”
She drew her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them, letting the sheet covering her kneecaps soak up the tears still lingering in her eyes and hoping Philippa hadn’t noticed.
“I’m late for my shift. Apologies captain. It won’t happen again.“
“It certainly won’t. You clearly aren’t feeling better, so I’m putting you back on leave until you recover.” This declaration brought fresh tears, and Michael was thankful Philippa couldn’t see her face. Without her job to distract her, she’d have no choice but to deal with her nightmares, even in the daytime.
“Captain I-“ Philippa cut her off.
“That’s an order, Number One.” Michael lets out a shaky breath.
“Yes captain.” Her voice broke, and she hated herself for it. She knew Philippa could hear just how raw her voice was, the slight lilt to her words indicating tears. Philippa’s face softened in the dim light, and she reached an arm out to sooth her first officer, stroking sleep-mussed hair and working her fingers through the tangled mass, eventually settling on scratching at the back of her head near her neck. Michael’s shoulders loosened, and her breathing evened out at the treatment.
“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t sleeping well?” Her voice was quiet in the stillness of the room.
“It’s irrelevant to the functioning of the ship.”
“But it’s not irrelevant to your functioning, and you are very relevant to the functioning of this ship.”
“Captain, ever since you left me in sickbay you’ve wanted nothing to do with me. Even if I had wanted to tell you, you probably would’ve had more reports to do, and you…” she trailed off. She should sit up, stop hiding her face like a terrified child. “You’re angry enough with me as it is. I didn’t want to burden you.”
“Michael…” her voice was soft and filled with guilt. She slid her hand to Michael’s shoulder, pulling the younger woman towards her and laying her down. Michael complied, curling up like a puppy in her lap and submitting to Philippa’s petting. “I’m not angry with you. When you were stabbed, I thought for sure that I would not see you alive again. I carried you from the transporter room to sickbay myself, I sat by you for over a day while the doctor tried to save you, while you lay there unresponsive. We’ve been together for 6 years, Michael. I don’t get attached easily, but I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.”
“Would you rather I had done nothing, had let you die? I like my job as first officer, you know.” Her words were strong, but her voice was quiet, almost dreamy from Philippa’s fingers tracing shapes across her shoulders blade. Philippa chuckled softly.
“I know.”
“I don’t- I can’t lose you either,” she mumbled.
“Is that what you dream about?” Michael whimpered slightly.
“I see what would have happened if I had been a second slower. I see your face and I carry you to sickbay and I sit by you but Captain, you never wake up.” Philippa’s hand moved back to stroking her hair, hand firm and protective, like Michael could vaguely remember her own mother doing for her so long ago.
“I’m right here Michael. I’m not going anywhere.” Michael couldn’t help herself. She knew it was childish and ridiculous and totally unbecoming, but she was already crying in her Captain’s lap.
“Do you promise?” Philippa barely caught the murmured words, and a smile touched her face when she realized what her mature, logical, first officer had asked of her. Fingernails scratched at the back of Michael’s neck, making her eyelids flutter.
“I promise, Michael.” With that reassurance, and Philippa’s fingers stroking the soft spot behind her ear, Michael drifted off, snuggling unconsciously closer in her sleep.
Philippa smiled down at her, raking fingernails gently through her hair. It was as though a kitten had fallen asleep in her lap. As quietly as she could, she tapped her comm badge to contact Lieutenant Commander Saru.
“Yes Captain?”
“Commander Burnham isn’t feeling well. Neither of us will be returning to the bridge.”
“Did you take her to sickbay, Captain?”
“No, she just needs some rest.”
“Then, if I may ask, Captain, why aren’t you returning?” Philippa paused.
“Commander Burnham has… fallen asleep.” When nothing but confused silence came from the other end of the comm channel, she elaborated, “On me.” The chorus of ‘awwww’s that emanated from her comm badge make it clear that Saru hadn’t been the sole recipient of her words, and she quickly ended the call, shaking her head at the antics of her crew.
Michael slowly awoke to the dim light of the padd her Captain was working on, one hand tapping away at the screen and the other still absentmindedly trailing down her spine. She brought a hand up from where it was curled against her chest to rub at her eyes, crusty from her tears.
“Captain?” The woman in question hummed questioningly and switched off her padd, dragging her fingers down the back of Michael’s arm. “How long…” she trailed off when she felt both of Philippa’s hands begin working through the hair at the base of her skull. Michael heard the Captain let out a small snort at her inability to continue speaking, and she bit her lip to keep a happy grin from appearing on her face. Mustering up enough resistance to the sensations, she valiantly attempted to continue, “How long have I…” The Captain’s hands moved lower, fingernails gently scratching along the edges of her shoulder blades, and Michael was unable to suppress her shiver of pleasure as the tingles travelled down the length of her spine. Smiling fondly down at her first officer, Philippa eventually took pity on her.
“A few hours.”
“And you sat here,” she sighed happily, “all that time? What about bridge duty?” she murmured, still having trouble formulating sentences.
“Saru has the bridge. And I have you.” Michael couldn’t keep the smile off her face any longer, and if her eyes were open, she would see the matching one on Philippa’s. “You know you talk in your sleep?” she teased. Michael scoffed, uncurling long legs to stretch them out.
“No I don’t.” Philippa chuckled.
“You do so. You were muttering about Vulcan ears being square-shaped just a few minutes ago.” Picturing this, Michael suppressed a giggle. “And before that,” she continued, “you were arguing with someone, me I think, about becoming the ship’s official ballerina.” Michael covered reddening cheeks with her hands and rolled over to hide her face.
“Nooooooo!” she whined.
“And before that,” Philippa teased, “you were describing the life of a phaser.”
“You’re making this up,” Michael giggled, unable to hold back her amusement any longer. She pulled herself up until she was sitting beside her Captain, legs dangling over the edge of her bed and head resting on Philippa’s shoulder.
“Are you accusing your Captain of lying?” Philippa’s voice was light and teasing, and Michael had never seen her so mischievous before. Feeling a playful grin creep onto her face, she decided to play along.
“Maybe I am. Are you gonna court-martial me, Captain?” The banter made her feel lighter than she had in years, light and fluttery and happy.
Philippa felt her lips twist into a smile.
“I like to handle my discipline personally.”
“Oh really?” Michael singsonged. “And what would that entail?”
Philippa smirked and poked at her stomach, grinning when she jerked away, mouth round with shock. Ever since that day in the Jefferies Tube when she’d jabbed her first officer in the side with a sonic driver and made her jump so high she’d hit her head on the ceiling, Philippa had filed that particular piece of information away for future use.
“Well usually,” she poked at her a few more times, smiling at Michael’s efforts to stifle her giggles, “I would confine you to quarters,” Michael snorted when Philippa’s finger touched a spot just beneath her ribs. “But in this case,” she walked her fingers up Michael’s sides and her first officer twisted, trying to grab Philippa’s hands, “I think I can make an exception.”
“How-“ Michael broke off when all the air left her lungs, courtesy of Philippa’s hands finding purchase on her ribs and pinching, “How kihihind of you.” Her words were filled with giggles now, laughter that she couldn’t suppress even if she tried. “But if…” she trailed off, overcome with breathy laughter for a moment, “if it’s all the same to you, Captain,” she fell onto her back, abs weakened by Philippa’s attack, and the Captain followed her, grinning. “I’ll take being confined to quarters.” Michael waited nervously, half-smiling, feeling the playful tension in the air. Philippa pretended to consider it for a moment, before grinning and shaking her head.
“Hmmm… no.” Michael made an indignant noise of mock outrage before Philippa spidered mischievous fingers all over her first officer’s stomach, making her break down in a fit of laughter. Philippa smiled fondly at her. It wasn’t often that she got to hear the laughter of her Vulcan-raised first officer, and now that she was, she couldn’t get enough of it. It was as though being raised on Vulcan, being taught to suppress her emotions, and as a consequence, never laughing, her laugh had never developed fully, and it had remained as the childish, infectious giggles she heard now. Michael tried to bat her hands away, but with her eyes squeezed shut and her arms weakened from laughter, she wasn’t very successful.
“Ihihihihi’m pretty suhuhure that this ihihihihihis against Stahahaharfleet- AAH!” she shrieked when Philippa pinched her sides. “Regulations!” she managed to get out, before she was overcome with those adorable, breathless giggles.
“Well, you can take it up with Starfleet later. Besides,” she grinned, suddenly fluttering her fingers over Michael’s neck and collarbone, “there’s no regulation stopping me from making my first officer laugh.” Michael’s laughter became, if possible, even cuter at the assault on her neck, higher pitched and more frequent as she squished her shoulders against her neck in a largely unsuccessful effort to block out Philippa’s hands.
“Tohohohohorture ihihis ahahaillegal!” she laughed, attempting to cover her mouth to stifle the noise. Philippa targeted the woman’s stomach through her cotton shirt, laughing at the shriek her actions earned.
“Nice try,” she teased, nimble fingers working their way up her sides while Michael squirmed helplessly beneath her. The spot around and below her navel, Philippa found, was bad enough to turn her giggles into adorable, bubbly laughter.
“Nahahahahahat thehehehehere,” she pleaded, snapping her arms down to little avail, and Philippa laughed at how quickly her logical attempts at reasoning had turned to begging. She didn’t think of herself as a cruel Captain, but she wasn’t about to give in the pleas of her first officer just yet.
“And why not?” Michael spluttered, clearly trying to come up with an answer other than ‘it tickles’. She tried to open her eyes to tell where the next assault would be, but all Michael could see was her Captain’s loving smile as she tickled her half to death.
“What about here, then,” she squeezed her ribs, “or here,” she wriggled her fingers in the spot below her ribcage, “or here,” she tried to worm her fingers under her arms. Michael’s laughter jumped with each new spot, joyous sounds bubbling up uncontrollably from her core. She squealed, actually squealed, and kicked out when Philippa found that spot on her side near her hip.
“NOHOHOHOHohoho!” Philippa chuckled at the sheer cuteness of her first officer, working her fingers around her hipbone and drawing more squeals and bright, helpless laughter.
It had been decades since anyone had done this to her, decades since she had laughed this much, but she still loved it. The tingles shooting up her spine made her squeal, and either she was still as ticklish as she had been as a child, or Philippa was exceptionally good at this. Both seemed likely. Michael had never felt so playful, so childish, so happy. She felt loved, felt it like a blanket over the whole room, settling around her heart like a warm, fluffy dog curled up with a child. Somehow, Philippa’s teasing made her heart feel even warmer, although she could feel her face getting warmer at the playful words as well. Still, it was nice to know that, as helpless as she was, all Philippa wanted to do was mess with her about it. She did feel a tiny bit of regret as Philippa found her hipbone, squeezing at what had always been her worst spot and sending her into a squealing fit.
“Phihihilipahahahahaha!” She kicked out as the electric sensations shot through her body, turning her limbs to jelly and her squealing laughter breathless. It was the first time she’d ever called her Captain by her first name, and she never would have if she’d been thinking straight, which was somewhat hard to do when her brain was preoccupied with not imploding from the tingly sensations darting all throughout her limbs.
“Oh, so it’s Philippa now?” the Captain asked gleefully, grinning at the hysterical edge to her first officer’s laughter. She must have sensed Michael’s exhaustion though, because she finally let up, trailing fingertips through Michael’s hair in an attempt to calm her. Though her laughter had tapered off, residual giggles still filled the air as the sensations faded away. Philippa flopped down on the bed next to her.
“That was fun,” she grinned. Michael gaped and shoved at her, indignant.
“For who?” Philippa shook her head amusedly at her first officer.
“Well, I proved that the Vulcans haven’t completely sucked all the fun out of you.” The Captain seemed very proud of her achievement, and Michael rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure which of them was less mature.
“I’m fun,” she grumbled, hiding her face in Philippa’s shoulder.
“Uh-huh.” The sarcasm was evident in her Captain’s voice.
“Shut up!” she squawked, indignant.
“Whatever you say.” Michael stuck her tongue out, snuggling closer and burying her face further into the crook of Philippa’s neck, breath evening out. It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep once more, lulled by her Captain’s gentle breathing.
AN: Based off of @bigirlgiggles prompt and a headcanon from @dippy-dipstick . Hope you all enjoy! I had so much fun writing this. Text from Riend: "Dude, I think I left my hoodie at your house, can you bring it when you come over?" Jeremy read the text, smiling to himself. He typed back: "Can't, I'm already walking up your sidewalk." Michael opened the door once he was on his doorstep and spoke, "What kind of boyfriend doesn't bring my jacket," he joked, wrapping his arms around Jeremy's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Jeremy laughed, "A terrible one apparently." "Let's go play some games and get stoned in my basement, Terrible Boyfriend," he said, guiding him through the door. Michael always seemed to play better when he was high. It makes him relaxed and focused, being able to direct all his attention solely on the game. They sat in their chairs, fiddling with the controllers, not speaking for the most part, only letting out exclamations of either joy or frustration. After completing yet another level, they decided to take a short break to stretch and get food. Most people didn't believe it, but playing video games for hours on end can really work up an appetite. Michael leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms above his head, his shirt rising up to expose his stomach. Michael rarely went without his hoodie. It was practically his second skin. Jeremy looked over at his boyfriend, seeing the vulnerable position he was in. He reached over, squeezing his soft belly and bringing forth a squeak. "What the hell was that for?" Michael asked, arms shielding his stomach. Jeremy smiled, "You're too cute, I can't help myself." Michael looked away, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Jeremy suddenly leaped at him, pinning him to the ground. He wiggles his fingers over his stomach and Michael erupted into giggles. "Dude, I'm not even touching you!" Jeremy exclaimed. "But Ihihihi can feheheheel it!" Michael protested, squirming beneath him. "You can feel me tickling you even though I'm not touching you? That's adorable!" Jeremy cried before making contact with Michael's skin. He instantly started laughing, trying to curl in on himself or roll onto his side, but Jeremy didn't let that happen. He gently pinched his stomach, and Michael shrieked, falling into a steady stream of giggles. "You bahahahastard!" he laughed out, trying futilely to swat at Jeremy's hands. He skittered his fingers over the skin, Michael arching his back with a loud cackle when he moved to his lower belly. "Sweet spot?" he questioned, digging into the exposed stretch of skin. He was too busy laughing to answer, and just went completely limp, not even bothering trying to block the feeling. Being high made every experience better. A video game was an entirely different world, a Dorito was so amazing it could bring about world piece, and tickling was one of the best possible experiences a person could have. Roaming hands all over your body, forcing you to laugh even though you already can't contain your giggles. Michael really began to loose it when Jeremy lightened his touch. "FUHUHUhuhuhuhuck Jeheheheheremehehehehey it tickles tohohohoo damn much! I cahahahan't take ihihihi!" Michael pleaded. "Aw is it just too much for wittle Michael to handle?" Jeremy teased, scratching his blunt nails lightly and relentlessly. Michael screamed, trying to push his arms away but with no look. Jeremy finally showed mercy and grinned down at him. "Wasn't that fun?" Michael glared at him, but couldn't help but grin, "Maybe for you!" ~~~~ The next day when Michael went over to Jeremy's house, he noticed something different about Jeremy, or more specifically, Jeremy's attire. "Oh hey Michael," he greeted. Michael narrowed his eyes, "Is that my hoodie?" Jeremy shrugged, "Yeah, I was bit chilly. Plus it smells like you," he said sweetly. Damnit, why did he have to look so adorable in his clothes? Michael had heard about this: your significant other borrows your favorite clothing item and poof! It's suddenly theirs! Michael refused to be another victim... "I get cold too ya know! Why do you think I always wear it?" he asked. Jeremy just shrugged. "Because you look cute in it?" he offered, causing Michael's cheeks to heat up. Then he got an idea, one he was sure would get him his hoodie back. He narrowed his eyes. "If you don't give me back my hoodie I'll have to resort to drastic measures," he warned, taking a step closer. Jeremy studied him, "What do you mean?" To answer his question, Michael tackled him to the floor. "Give me back my hoodie!" he cried out, biting Jeremy's arm, making sure to not bite down too hard; he didn't want to hurt him. "Dude, what the hell? You just bit my arm!" Jeremy screeched. Michael grinned deviously, "Would you prefer if I bit somewhere else?" Jeremy's face lit up like the Fourth of July and he stuttered out, "W-what?" In his confusion, Michael lifted up his shirt as far as it could go, exposing most of his torso. Jeremy had a good idea of where this situation was headed, and he squirmed in anticipation. He watched his every move, aware of how helpless he was in the position he was in. Michael looked up, mischievous eyes meeting fearful ones, and he smirked before dipping his head down, nuzzling into the soft skin of Jeremy's belly. "MIHIHIHICHAHAHAHAEL NOHOHOHO!" Jeremy bucked up off the floor, trying to dislodge his boyfriend. Michael chuckled into the skin, nuzzling in deeper and eliciting a squeal. "Give me back my jacket," he demanded, but Jeremy was too busy laughing to respond. He let out a playful growl, gently nipping around his waistline. He had never heard him laugh like this before. He was in complete hysterics: snorting, screeching, cackling, the whole damn works. "Jeremy have I ever told you how cute you are when you're being tickled?" Jeremy hoped his face was red enough from the tickling that you couldn't see his face get even redder, but Michael of course took notice. "You are so red!" How adorable!" He nibbled and scratched at his sides, and Jeremy's body slowly lost its strength from all the tickling. Michael finally relented and let him breathe. "So... Jacket?" Jeremy laughed breathlessly, taking it off and tossing it at him. "All that for a jacket?" "Nah, I also needed revenge for yesterday." Jeremy sighed, falling onto his back, "You're such a dick."
Hi! Maybe 72 with Lucifer and Michael or Gabriel! I love your drabbles, your so good!
Aww thank you :)
“Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.”
Michael huffed, “You disappoint me, Lucifer.”
Lucifer sighed and blushed, feeling so bad. He’d been acting less and less archangel like day by day and Michael had made a comment on it. Hell, he knew even Michael was seeming less and less like himself every day.
Lucifer went up next to his older brother and nudged him gently, “I miss your smile, Mike…”
Michael glanced at Lucifer but didn’t turn to him, “There hasn’t been much lately to make me smile.”
“Not even Gabe could get you to crack one?”
Michael shook his head.
“Damn… you’ve really become a sour puss…” Lucifer huffed.
Michael rolled his eyes, “Will you please bring up something else?”
Lucifer stared at his brother and made a face. He tried to think of something that’ll make Michael happy. He had just the thing, but he wasn’t even sure if it would work. it’s been so long.
He reached a hand out and brushed his fingers against Michael’s side.
The archangel twitched and he finally looked at Lucifer with narrowed eyes, “Yes?”
Lucifer grinned and chuckled, “Wohow, still? After all this time?” he reared up and tackled Michael, hoping he wouldn’t get killed for doing this. He dug into Michael’s sides with wiggling fingers.
Michael gasped and he scrunched his face up, trying to shove Lucifer away but his brother was adamant.
Lucifer giggled, “C’mohon, Mikey. I know you wanna smile real bad.”
Michael screwed his face up and pursed his lips, “N-No!” he growled.
Lucifer sighed, “You were always a tough one to crack,” he pinched up Michael’s ribs and massaged his thumbs into the lowest one.
The damn burst. Michael threw his head back and his face split into a wide smile, “HAHAHA! LUCIFER!”
Lucifer beamed at his handiwork, “Ahaww, I missed this, bro,” he kept up the tickles, switching from spot to spot.
Michael was a laughing mess and it felt so freeing! He was forced into the role of being a stern, orderly archangel and all he wanted was to return to these happier times. And his brother Lucifer was there to help him.
A/N — @sensitive-switch requested some Prince!Michael x Servant!Jake !! I can’t do old timey talk so they’re not gonna speak old time
“I’m supposed to be cleaning, you know.” Jake laughed softly as he cuddled under the covers of Michael’s bed, hugging onto the smaller boy.
Michael whined slightly as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Jake’s neck. “I don’t care, you can clean later.” he mumbled as Jake ran his fingers through his hair.
“Most people love the idea of someone cleaning their room for them.” Jake hummed as he squeezed Michael’s side gently.
That earned a few giggles from the prince as nuzzled his face deeper into Jake’s neck. “Hehehey! That’s not fair.” Michael whined.
Jake trailed his fingers up and down Michael’s side. “I personally think this is very fair.” he said with a smile as he watched Michael giggle and try to squirm away from him.
“Jahahahakey!”
That made the taller boy stop for a moment. “Awww did you just call me ‘Jakey?’”
Michael’s face turned red and he turned around, facing away from Jake and pulling the covers of the bed over his head. “No way! You imagined that..”
“Mikey..~” Jake singsonged as he pulled the covers off from over Michael, gently starting to poke at his side again.
The efforts Michael made to hold back his laughter was useless, because he started giggling his head off as soon as Jake started squeezing his side.
For the next few minutes, Michael was trying to escape Jake’s hands, laughing loudly. Once Jake had completed his torment, he pulled Michael close to him and hugged him.
“That wasn’t funny!“ Michael said, holding back a small smile as he still attempted to scold Jake.
Jake kissed Michael’s cheek and held his hand as they cuddled. “I really have to get back to cleaning now.” he said as he slowly got up. “I’ll be back later though if that’s any reassurance.”
Grabbing his glasses off the table, Michael looked at his boyfriend and nodded with a smile. “Perfect.”
