[ticklishraspberries]

🌺 — pinned post!!

hi, i’m raspberry. i’m twenty-four, and i use she/they pronouns. i’ve been a ticklefic writer since 2015 and this is my blog!!

icon credit: feathergil (a friend of mine who has since deleted their blog!!)

INACTIVE. I DO NOT WRITE ANYMORE. MY ASK BOX IS CLOSED.

[ticklishraspberries]

i think it's time, y'all.

the past few times i've logged into this account, my inbox has been full of nasty messages. the discourse in this community is never-ending. i don't enjoy writing here anymore, and haven't for a long time.

not deleting, i know some people still want access to my old fics. my ao3 will remain untouched, too. my inbox is closed and i don't know if/when i will be back. but this website and this blog bring me no joy anymore, and whenever i try to reignite that spark, people have to fucking ruin it.

[ticklishraspberries]

what if i told you in the big year 2026 i still actually love dear evan hansen so much that i’m listening to it on the commute to my big girl internship and i have literal tears in my eyes

[nhasablogg]

Till your bones feel embarrassed from all the attention

Fandom: Heated Rivalry

Characters: Shane/Ilya

Summary: A video of Shane being tickled during a night out goes viral. Ilya becomes obsessed with it.

A/N: Warning for sexual themes.

Words: 4.5k

[Read it on AO3]

Lily: I can tickle you better.

Shane nearly flung his phone onto the table from how quickly he turned away in an attempt to shield it. His team wasn’t paying attention to him anyway, all hungover, all exhausted and not looking forward to the flight out of Toronto, though it was mercifully not until late in the afternoon. The brunch situation at the hotel was the last thing they were doing before the bus was due to pick them up to take them to the airport, a drive which could either be loud due to their win the previous night, or eerily quiet due to their celebration of said win. Shane wasn’t usually that careless about his time, but even he had been pulled into it, meaning he was all but dreading the thankfully relatively short flight into Boston. Boston where Ilya was currently texting Shane.

Jane: Excuse me?

He typed it out quickly, a panic settling in his stomach because he didn’t usually text him like this, out in the open. The closest thing to it was their dressing room and its guise of privacy. On his left was Hayden, who looked much worse for wear than Shane, which was probably due to all the shots he’d taken. Shane had, despite his team’s nagging, stayed entirely sober, but that didn’t mean he had a clear memory of the night either.

Lily: He doesn’t know your body like I know it.

Shane slammed the phone face down on the table, then thought better of it and grabbed it again. “What’s wrong with you?” Hayden asked, reaching for his own phone as if it would give him all the answers.

Shane ignored him and typed another response.

Jane: What the fuck do you mean?

Lily: You know.

Jane: I really don’t??

He could picture Ilya’s stupid smirk. Riling Shane up was his favorite thing.

Lily: You thought you could keep it secret from me.

Shane exhaled slowly.

Jane: That I’m ticklish? How did you even find that out?

Lily: Ah. You don’t know.

Last night came back in flashes. He remembered wanting to text Ilya. Remembered Hayden drunkenly urging him to text “that girl he was hiding”. But mostly he remembered flashing lights and people being drunk, and Shane feeling equally gone due to the lights and the sounds, stuck between awareness and a blur.

“Oh my god,” Hayden said to his left, just as Shane attempted to type back anything more coherent than a bunch of question marks. “Shane, we’ve gone viral.”

“What-”

Hayden pressed his phone into his face with a laugh, alerting most of the table. “You gotta see this.”

The video was on twitter, though it wasn’t posted by any of them but seemed to be a screengrab from Olsson’s instagram account. In it were Shane and Hayden with people dancing all around them. Really it was nothing special. Nothing to go viral over. Hayden was mostly swaying, while Shane was bopping his head awkwardly upon noticing the camera. Through the music you could hear Olsson prompting them to smile.

“He said smile!” Hayden yelled, seemingly not impressed by Shane’s initial attempt, which to be fair looked more like he was in pain than enjoying himself.

Present Shane shook his head. “Why would we go viral over this?”

“Oh, just you wait.”

In the video, Hayden grabbed for him, and Shane doubled over as if trying to escape. It really still didn’t make it any more interesting, until he realized with a flush that he was laughing.

‘They are so cute’ the tweet said, and when Shane would scroll down later in the privacy of his hotel room, people, seemingly fans of him and the team, would gush about their “bromance” and about him being ticklish, and it still didn’t really make any sense that this would get that many views, but Shane felt embarrassed about it anyway.

So much for letting loose.

In the end, it spread because Shane supposedly gained super strength and threw Hayden off of him - “That’s why I have this huge ass bruise on my side!” - and while he knew his way on the ice, Shane really wasn’t an aggressive person off of it.

The team laughed at the video and Shane slipped out of his seat, phone in hand.

Jane: What the fuck.

Lily: You have never thrown me around like that.

Jane: I will if you don’t stop.

Lily: You must be really ticklish.

Lily: Exciting for me.

Jane: Stop.

Lily: Hmm. I will if you are nice.

Jane: Asshole.

Lily: See you in two days :)

*

Ilya watched the video at least a dozen times before he texted Shane. He wished to say he did so in a composed manner, but he had hit the keys in a dazed rage. He wasn’t used to seeing Shane with his guard down, if you could even call it that. He didn’t seem like he belonged in that club, not really, but he seemed more relaxed than Ilya had seen him with his team. He always had a shield up. They were alike in that way.

It amused him to see him like that, slightly out of place but evidently enjoying himself. And then Pike put his hands on him and he saw red for much longer than he was willing to admit, and by the time he realized that Shane was bending over because he was being tickled, because he was ticklish and his best friend was using that knowledge to his advantage, knowledge he probably possessed beforehand, Ilya was already typing out the text without allowing himself time to think too much about it.

Jane: Excuse me?

The reply came quickly and Ilya didn’t let himself stall, didn’t let himself overthink this. He was teasing him, as he often did. Shane was always more practical over text, almost monotonous, but Ilya could sense his emotions behind the typed words. His spluttering. His blushing and stuttering and arousal, if the conversation asked for it.

He seemed confused now though, and Ilya swiftly realized he had no idea what he was talking about. Could imagine him scouring the internet for clues and putting up his usual front when he found it. Ilya only texted him because he wanted to reestablish something, maybe mostly to himself, and not necessarily because he cared about Shane being ticklish. That had just been a bonus.

But as the text conversation progressed, and as he imagined him blushing throughout it, he found he couldn’t let the idea of him squirming under his hands for different reasons go. It all but consumed him, in fact.

*

Montreal beat Boston and Ilya was in a frustrated mood. It was always worse losing when you played at home. Shane knew that all too well. He also knew that the best remedy was always taking your frustration out on each other’s bodies, which was why he wasn’t surprised when Ilya shoved him into the room the very moment Shane opened the door to his hotel room.

“Hey,” he said, though there was no heat to it.

“No talking,” Ilya said and grabbed his face to smash his mouth into his.

Shane was familiar with this dance. Had both led it and been led many times. He let Ilya steer him now, let him bite his lower lip and slide his mouth down his collarbone. Let him press him against the wall and dig his thumbs into his hip bones, as if there was any world where Shane would be pulling away. He moaned and Ilya moaned back in return, both of them relishing in how frustration always made the body desperate. How willing they both were to give into that desperation.

The bed was suddenly right there - when had they moved through the room? - and Shane didn’t protest when he was thrown onto it. The sheets were soft and freshly washed. Not that he really had the time to acknowledge it. Not with Ilya looming over him like that, head tilted in a way that made him feel self conscious.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling dizzy and needing him closer again.

A fingertip on his chest, which was slowly moving downward. It was very like Ilya to tease. He liked watching him squirm, he’d said, but this felt different. Shane suddenly felt on edge.

“I’ve been nice,” he said, remembering the text conversation.

Ilya hummed. “Not very nice to embarrass me in my own city.”

“That’s hockey, Rozanov.” He jutted his chin out. He was on thin ice, he knew. “We were simply better.”

“Were you?” Something flickered across Ilya’s face. Something kind of terrifying.

So Shane had been nervous about tonight. He hadn’t exactly been able to pinpoint why until now, when Ilya’s grin turned mischievous and he realized he had him pinned to the mattress, something he usually liked. Still liked, if he was being honest.

“Tell me, Hollander.” His finger had stilled on his ribs, the touch unbearably light. “How did you keep your sensitivity a secret from me for so long?”

Shane flushed, which was fucking ridiculous. “I’m not that bad. Hayden surprised me.”

“So if I tickle you now-” He used his other hand to wiggle his fingers in the air. ”-you won’t laugh? You will keep still and let me keep tickling?”

“What? I don’t know.”

“You are tense.” Ilya’s smile softened. “And blushing.”

“Shut up.”

He suddenly removed his finger. “I think I will let you be. Better to keep you tense. Means we will win next game.”

“What- you can’t text me before the game, Rozanov,” Shane said weakly, but it fell on deaf ears and he kind of forgot to reestablish that boundary once Ilya’s mouth was on him again.

*

Ilya felt lucky. Lucky that the next game against Montreal was only a few weeks after their loss, and lucky because he knew Shane was expecting him to text and therefore would be thrown off when he ended up not doing so at all. He looked at his phone and grinned, knowing Shane was probably doing the same in his own dressing room. It was almost better, forcing him to think of him. It would be more fun later, because of course there would be a later. He would take a cab to Shane’s creepy apartment and Shane would be angry because they would inevitably beat them, and Ilya would just laugh and let him do whatever he wanted to him, though not without doing things right back. It was part of it, their tumbling and battling.

“You waiting for a call or somethin’?” Cliff asked, appearing beside him suddenly.

Ilya slipped the phone into his bag. “No.”

“We have to win tonight, you know.”

“We will.”

“Price better keep Montreal in check.”

“You think I can’t do that myself?” he asked, which he knew was unfair. It was Price’s job to make sure he had as much of a free range as possible. It was Ilya’s job to score. Ilya would score and wink right in Shane’s face just to drive the point home and possibly drive him a bit crazy while he was at it.

Cliff slapped him on the back. “We got this.”

Ilya huffed and finished getting ready. His phone buzzed just before they were about to go out on the ice.

Jane: I didn’t peg you as someone who listens.

He snorted out a laugh and didn’t reply.

*

“Now you’re texting me before the game, huh?” was the first thing Ilya said when Shane entered his hotel room.

“You’re an asshole,” Shane replied. He looked angry, but there was no heat to it. You learned to live with losses when you played. Mostly they worked as motivation to keep getting better.

Ilya felt equally tired that night. The game had been an ongoing battle of score after score from both teams, which meant overtime and suspense which was both his favorite thing about the game and the thing which drained him the most. He had hoped that Shane would be fired up enough to take charge that night, but they stood staring at each other for slightly too long and Ilya grabbed for his waist when he realized Shane wasn’t moving.

“Wait-” Shane recoiled, which was unlike him, and Ilya had a terrifying moment of wondering if he’d finally crossed a line, if Shane was finally tired of this thing they were doing, and while he was certain his fear was visible on his face Shane seemed too busy blushing to notice.

“Ah,” Ilya said, realization dawning on him. “You think I will tickle you.”

He didn’t mean to say it to embarrass him, but Shane’s blush turned redder, turned angrier and defensive. “I thought you said you could do it better.” It was so evident that it took everything in him to say it. Ilya felt merciful because of it and didn’t tease. “Pardon me for thinking you were a man of your word.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to do it?”

“Well, no.”

“Then I won’t.” He reached out again, though without touching him. “Come here. I won’t do it,” he added when Shane eyed him warily. “But I really really want to.” He wasn’t sure why he admitted it, but the image of Shane squirming beneath him still hadn’t left his mind.

Shane whined. A beautiful, arousing whine, and Ilya wasted no more time before undressing them both and throwing him onto the bed.

*

Shane couldn’t figure out why it bothered him. Why the promise of such a pure, innocent thing wasn’t being held. Why he even cared about it in the first place.

The rain was plummeting down outside. Too early in the season for rain, but even winters in Canada seemed to have suffered from climate change. Not good. He watched it for a moment. The rain Ilya was probably driving in, this night after their game. The usual. This familiar dance.

It didn’t help that they hadn’t seen each other for like two months either. He felt restless. Horny. Really fucking lonely, actually.

“What took you so long?”

“Hello to you too, Hollander.” Despite their loss, Ilya seemed to be in a good mood. Much more cheery than Shane, weirdly enough.

“Yes. Hi. Come in.”

Ilya’s jacket was dripping just from the short walk to the door. Shane tried to not care that he was getting it on the wooden floors.

This was a new thing they had been doing recently. Not crashing into each other the very moment they were alone. They never had any reason for the stalling. They spoke very rarely, and when they did it was never anything that took up too much time. Ilya lingered by the door, took his time removing his jacket and shoes, and when he did he just looked around the apartment as if he hadn’t been here too many times to count by then.

“I have a confession,” he said, his hands in his pockets.

Shane’s heart skipped a beat. “That can’t be good.”

Ilya let out a laugh, though he seemed on edge. Nervous. That wasn’t common. “Is nothing bad.”

“Says you.”

Ilya shifted his weight from foot to foot. Not good at all, Shane didn’t say, though the obvious display of uncertainty fascinated him.

“You’re making me nervous.”

Ilya looked up at him, with a smile so unlike his usual one. “I confess,” he started, dragging the word out surely just to mess with him. “that I have been thinking of that video.”

“What video?” Shane knew what video.

“You know what video.”

“I really don’t.” He really did.

“Will you force me to use it against you, Hollander?”

“Use what- okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He held up his hands when Ilya stepped closer, a rare playfulness gripping them both. “You have been thinking of the video. Got it. What about it?”

Ilya took another step. “It makes me curious.”

“Curious of what?”

“You see, the video was loud.” Ilya waved a hand around. “You can only hear music.”

“It was a club, after all.”

“I can see you laughing, but I cannot hear it.” He shrugged. “Is unfair, don’t you think? That I have touched every part of your body, but have never heard you laugh like that?”

Shane exhaled. “You’re the one who has decided you’re not allowed to tickle me for some reason.”

Another step. If Shane reached out he would be able to touch him easily.

He stayed rooted to his spot even when Ilya grinned. “I change my mind.”

It surprised him that he kissed him when he grabbed for him. That his hands were holding onto Shane’s jaw and nothing else, nothing more soft and vulnerable and sensitive. But it didn’t surprise him when his hands started roaming once they got into the bed, once he had Shane trapped between his body and the mattress, and it didn’t surprise him that he started giggling immediately, though it did embarrass him.

“Oh my god,” Ilya mumbled into his mouth.

“What?” Shane snapped, which sounded a lot less demanding when you were laughing.

“Your laugh. Is cute.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh, but it is.”

Ilya left his mouth alone much to Shane’s chagrin and watched him instead, head tilted, something amused and fond on his face. It made this worse, so much worse, but Shane couldn’t concentrate on looking away. Not when Ilya seemed to lay all his focus on tickling him now. Fingers gentle on his ribcage, moving up and down until Shane was nothing but a twitchy mess. This was very different from how Hayden tickled him, those few times he’d done so. Hayden was always rough about it, and always quick. Ilya was gentle. Ilya took his time.

Shane wasn’t entirely sure if he could handle that, though. “Fuck, okay, you’ve heard my laugh, now cut it out!”

“Hmm, don’t think so. Have more spots to try.” True to his word, Ilya’s hands moved upward to curl beneath Shane’s chin, causing his laughter to go up in pitch. He probably loved that, that bastard.

Shane tried to grab him, tried to push him off, and the fact that he couldn’t, the fact that he was pinned just enough so that he couldn’t budge, did things to him which had nothing to do with the tickling, not really. Maybe Ilya noticed, because he suddenly leaned down again, his lips on the left side of Shane’s neck while his fingers kept tickling the right.

That was the start of something strange and bodily and tickly, which had Shane moaning and giggling in tandem. “I watched that stupid video over and over,” Ilya admitted into his skin, maybe in a moment of weakness. “I tried to figure out where exactly Pike was tickling you, but turns out it did not matter. You are ticklish all over.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Shane choked out through his laughter. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Ilya laughed and went for his thigh, proving his own point.

*

Lily: If we win you have to stay still while I tickle you.

Ilya wasn’t sure why he felt his pulse quicken when his phone buzzed with Shane’s reply a moment later. Too long for what he typed, which could mean he was busy but more likely meant he was flustered. Good. Ilya liked him flustered.

Jane: And if we win?

He shook his head, not stopping his grin from spreading. No one was here. He was safe to smile.

Lily: Oh, the same :)

Having admitted that he thought about the video had been a risky move, but oh the reward had been sweet. It took Shane longer to reply now. Had they been the types who called each other, Ilya would’ve done so. Longed to hear his voice rise in pitch as Ilya teased him.

Jane: I feel like this is cheating.

Lily: You are easy to distract.

Lily: Not my fault.

Jane: You are just as easy to distract.

Lily: Is that so?

Lily: What if I pinned you down and tickled that spot on your lower back? Pinned you facedown so you couldn’t stop me.

Lily: What then?

Jane: Stop texting me.

Lily: You love it.

Jane: I’m with my PARENTS.

Lily: Better keep a straight face while imagining my hands on you then.

Jane: I will block your number.

Lily: Is your ass ticklish? I never tried.

Jane: !!!!!!

Ilya burst into laughter. Shane was just too easy. And too fun. He feared he might get addicted. Probably already had, ages ago. He could imagine Shane shoving him on the bed in indignation only for the tables to turn and him not doing anything to stop it. Ilya liked that he didn’t try to stop it. Ilya liked making him squirm and laugh. Ilya liked that he let him.

*

Lily: Do me a favor.

The text came late, but Shane was wide awake somewhere in San Jose.

Jane: Why are you awake?

Lily: Big boy.

Shane’s stomach flipped until he realized he meant himself, which made him roll his eyes.

Jane: I am rolling my eyes.

Jane: What’s the favor?

Lily: Touch yourself and imagine it’s me.

Shane’s breath hitched, and it didn’t help when a second text came through.

Lily: Make it ticklish too.

Shane hated that he sometimes still felt like he was doing something wrong when they did this, but he didn’t allow himself to strain his ears to see if he could hear anyone else in this hotel. It was pitch dark. He was a grown ass man.

He barely had time to make himself comfortable on the bed when Ilya texted again.

Lily: Are you doing it?

Jane: Shut up.

Lily: Does it feel good?

Jane: I’ve not started yet.

Lily: Call me.

“What?” Shane said it out loud, and yet he called him anyway without a second thought. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Ilya sounded so close through the speaker phone. Maybe Shane could pretend his breath was in his ear for real. “Are you in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Start with your stomach. I like the way it twitches under my touch.”

Shane inhaled sharply. “You can’t just tickle me over the phone.”

“How do you know? We’ve not tried yet.” The sound of rustling sheets could be heard. Shane imagined he was sliding down the bed. “If phone sex works then this could work.”

Shane shook his head. “That only works because you can touch yourself. You can’t tickle yourself.”

“So do both. Will make you more sensitive.”

“Jesus.”

“Not bad idea, right?”

“I guess not.”

“I am waiting.”

“You’re just gonna listen?”

“I can tease. You want me to tease?”

Shane ran a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“What is happening to you? Describe it.”

“A fucking Russian menace is happening to me.”

Ilya laughed and Shane found he couldn’t help his smile. “Hollander,” he sang, as if he wasn’t ruining Shane’s whole life. “If I was there I would tickle under your arm. So start there.”

“Why there?”

“Because you make funny noises when I do.”

“I do not-”

“Hollander.”

Shane wasn’t sure why he was complying. It wasn’t as if Ilya could see him.

“Are you gripping the headboard like you always do with me?”

Yes. “No.”

“Be gentle at first. I only dig when I want you to be laughing. I only want you squirming now.”

Why the hell was Shane listening to him, he wondered as he dragged his nails over his armpit. It kind of tickled, but not enough for him to want to pull away or laugh. He felt silly, but something warm had settled in his chest. Something which was tied to the voice in his ear.

“Are you doing it?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Shane let out a strangled sound. “I can’t touch myself if I tickle there.”

“Be patient.”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet.”

Shane mostly said it as a joke, but he could tell from Ilya’s tone that he was entirely serious. That he was planning on joining Shane while directing him.

It made him incredibly turned on to think about.

“Can I please switch spots?” Can I touch myself?

Ilya made a sound he couldn’t interpret. “You can. Go for stomach now. Gently.” He waited while Shane did as he was told, then added, “Does it tickle?”

“A little.” Why was he entertaining this?

“Good. Imagine it is me.”

Shane did. Fuck, he did. Ilya leaning over him. Ilya being so gentle while also still keeping him in place. One hand on his sensitive skin, another on his sensitive groin.

“Fuck.”

Ilya laughed softly in his ear. “You like that? You like the thought of my hands on you?”

Boston was suddenly too fucking far, their next joint game even farther. He exhaled and circled his belly button again, moved further to the side where he knew the skin twitched if he went gently enough. It was funny how well Ilya knew his body, even though this particular part was new to him. Something about his fixation on it, for Shane had seen right through his attempt at initial nonchalance, made him feel things he still hadn’t baptized.

He leaned his head back. Even though the hand was his own and he could remove it any time, the touch was still leaning on unbearable. If Ilya was here he would tell him to take it. Shane tried to take it each time, though he was always allowed to fight back. Was always allowed to squirm and curse and beg, not that he begged of course. He leaned his head back and curled his fingers over his skin and gripped himself tightly as Ilya told him exactly what to do. Their first phone call. How strange that it was this. How unsurprising all the same.

*

“Did you come?” Ilya had, several seconds before the inevitable sound of Shane’s own orgasm filled his ear. His question was redundant. He knew Shane’s noises well. Could imagine the way his eyes slipped shut.

“I did,” he replied, voice hoarse. “That was-”

“It was.” Ilya smirked. “I made you come without even being in the same state.”

Shane barked out a laugh. “I made myself come.”

“Hmm, not without my help.”

“Shut up.” But he sounded lighter than Ilya had heard him in a while.

“Tell me,” he said, rolling over to his side to reach for the tissues he kept at his bedside table. “Did you keep tickling the entire time?”

Shane was quiet for so long he thought he’d hung up. “I did.”

“Did you like it?”

No response at all this time. Ilya decided to be merciful.

“I was being serious, by the way,” he said while cleaning himself up. “If we win I will tickle you and you will be still.”

“And if we win you will do the same?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds fair.”

“I’m only fair on the ice.”

“An asshole both on and off it though.”

“An asshole who knows your body much better than Hayden Pike.”

“Oh my god, Rozanov.”

Ilya laughed. “See you in two weeks.”

[ticklishraspberries]

I present to you: they’re not out yet; heck they wouldn’t even call each other boyfriends yet. BUT! During a game or press conference or whatever Ilya shoves Shane, not aggressively, but you know. They’re wildest considered rivals. He somehow manages to poke Shane, it wasn’t even on purpose and Shane flinches. Twitter goes crazy. Shane reads the tweets. And Ilya, the menace doesn’t spare him and brings it up the on their late night sneaky hotel meet up.

cute!! i doubt shane would be able to feel much tickly sensation through his uniform (they got LAYERS under there) but i can imagine him flinching on instinct and later, ilya teasing him like "do you really think so lowly of me, that i'd reveal your weaknesses so publicly like that?", and shane is like "you actually suck"

[ticklishraspberries]

Since Scream 7 is coming soon, would you be interested in making more content for that??

i'm not supporting scream 7 because of their disgusting decision to fire melissa barrera for her pro-palestine activism. i love the original scream film, but the rest of the franchise is of no interest to me.

if you're asking if i'd ever write billy and stu again, maybe, but i'm not currently taking prompts so the interest would have to spark on its own and i don't really see it happening any time soon.

thanks for the question and i'm assuming you enjoyed my past scream content, so thanks for the support there x

[nhasablogg]

But you are the life (I needed all along)

Fandom: Stranger Things

Characters: Mike/Will (pre-slash), Dustin, Lucas

Summary: Will moves in with the Wheelers, but things aren't okay until Mike starts tickling him again.

A/N: My take on the 18 months they live together.

Words: 3k

[Read it on ao3]

Will knew they were fine when Mike started tickling him again.

The big one - gasping for air, pinned to the floor, arms flailing one of his youth - took longer to happen. Instead Mike started slow, as if testing the waters. It was true that Will’s body hadn’t forgotten what to do during a tickle fight as much as his mind had, and a year into this tickle drought, which really was a drought of many things that he’d had to leave behind when they drove to California, he found that what once had been so fundamental now left him uncertain.

It shouldn’t surprise him that it was probably the same for Mike.

It started on a night which resembled the past more than any of the ones he’d spent living with the Wheelers thus far. It didn’t happen often. For the majority of his time there, he slept alone. Jonathan had stayed with him for the first week - insisting on it, in fact - as if afraid of what would happen if he left him alone. But once they got used to the way the house shifted, the way the wind made the pipes rattle, a sound they were both familiar with anyway, he started sneaking upstairs to spend the nights with Nancy. Will didn’t blame him for it, but to say he enjoyed his solitude would be a lie. He hated going to sleep in the silence. Hated waking up to no one breathing but himself.

He wasn’t sure why. It had never bothered him before.

“You look tired.” Mike said it over his toast, though Will had noticed he wasn’t eating much. Mostly just waving it around.

He rubbed at his neck. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Mike sat up straighter. “Are you having nightmares?”

“You sound like my mom.”

He let out a laugh, but the concern didn’t drop from his face. “I think living together is merging me and Mrs Byers into one person.”

“Oh god, don’t say that.” But he was laughing too. “I’m not sure what would be worse. Having you fuss over me or having to play DnD with my mom.”

“Speaking of fussing. You never answered me about the nightmares.” Mike knew that Will occasionally had them. Had said he’d be surprised if he didn’t get them.

Will shook his head. “No. Not recently, I just-”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Just can’t sleep lately.”

“Do you want me to sleep with you again?”

They’d done it twice. Remnants of their childhood, where their sleepovers always had Mike telling stories until Will fell asleep, usually curled up close to him. They were older now, and so the stories weren’t working as effectively, but the two times Mike had crept into the basement, as if realizing something was wrong, had brought with them a sense of calm that Will couldn’t always find on his own.

It didn’t surprise him that he nodded without giving it any thought. “Please.”

And Mike laughed at the desperation in his voice, though without malice. Will found that Mike always laughed when he wasn’t certain of how to react.

It started again because it was cold - dead of winter, in fact - and Will hadn’t told anyone of the way the basement was always slightly colder than the rest of the house at night, and he hadn’t told anyone of how he despised the cold now. They shared the couch because it was easier, their heads on opposite ends of it, and maybe Mike noticed the way he shivered and that was why he suddenly grabbed his foot under the blanket, not commenting on the way Will jumped.

“Jesus, you’re ice cold.”

Will exhaled slowly. “Aren’t you?”

“No?” Mike sat up. Will could see his silhouette in the dark, illuminated by the porch light someone had forgotten to turn off outside. “Will, I- let me warm you up, here.”

Will saw his held out hand and still didn’t move. “Mike-”

“Come over to my side.”

“You come over to my side,” he replied, but did as Mike said, always did as Mike said. And Mike laughed, that beautiful, rare laugh.

“I probably need another blanket,” he said when Mike wrapped his arm around him, something which hadn’t been unusual when they were children though they’d given it no name.

“Try to relax,” he said, which was easier said than done when this was the first, the very first in the past four years.

Will shut his eyes because it was easier. He felt entirely wide awake.

“Do you feel better?” Mike asked when the silence had stretched thin enough that it had nearly snapped. “Wait, is this why you’ve been sleeping badly?”

Will didn’t respond. That was how it started again. A moment of playfulness which had grown out of something rare. Will refusing to be truthful and Mike not being okay with that.

“Uhm, hello? Answer me.” The squeeze shouldn’t have surprised him, not accompanied by that tone, but it did, and Will’s elbow collided with Mike’s ribs around the same time as he cried out, and had Mike not known that he’d tickled him, he certainly knew it now.

But of course Mike had known about it. Mike was the master of it, or had been once.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Will tried to turn over to look at him, because that was what you did when you apologized, but Mike huffed and tickled him again, this time gentler, brief enough that Will wondered if he’d imagined it had the ghost of the touch not lingered on his stomach.

“I forgot how ticklish you are,” Mike said when Will curled in on himself. He could hear his smile. How he smiled through the lie.

*

Mike knew they were fine, or at the very least going to be fine, when Will allowed him to tickle him again. When he wasn’t all guarded elbows and recoiling knees. When Mike had earned his tickle rights back and didn’t have to dance around it.

It took a while, though. Maybe that was his own fault for being so cautious. Will hated being treated like something fragile, but Mike wasn’t afraid of Will breaking as much as something breaking. Something which already had cracks along the edges. Something which didn’t fit quite right in his hands anymore.

That was his fault. His and a lot of other factors, but mostly his. He’d not realized that he didn’t navigate distance well, especially not when paired with a sudden and forced proximity. He thought the latter would save them, but he was just as clumsy up close. Now it was simply a lot harder to not accidentally drop it.

It was easier when they were with others, but that was maybe because they had no time to really think of anything other than to fix this mess they’d not asked to be a part of. If the air was filled with anything strange, they certainly didn’t have time to acknowledge it. It was at home that Mike found himself watching Will while being afraid to approach him. That had never been a problem before.

“You okay?” That was Dustin. Dustin, who hadn’t been okay in a long time. About as long as Lucas hadn’t been okay, though none of them had been suffering the way Will had and, by proxy, the way Mike still did. Silently. Bravely, in Will’s case.

“I’m fine.” Mike rubbed his eye. “Just tired.”

Dustin checked his watch. “I mean, you could go home and sleep.”

“I’m waiting for Will.”

Something flickered across Dustin’s face. It wasn’t the first time, though Mike opted to ignore it like he always did. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Jonathan’s coming with him, after all.”

Mike shifted from foot to foot. “It’s just easier if we all go together.”

“Right.”

“Shouldn’t you be going home?”

Dustin turned away. “Now why would I be doing that.”

Mike felt a surge of impatience then, which didn’t mix well with his exhaustion. “I’m gonna go get him actually. It’s late.”

It wasn’t a crawl night and so they wouldn’t be missed. Not usually one to want to be left out, it came as a surprise to both of them when Mike reached for Will’s arm and told him they should leave.

“You okay?” Will asked, stepping back to see him better. “Do you feel sick?”

Of all of this, Mike didn’t say. He shook his head. “Can we just go? I’m tired and I don’t wanna go home alone.” That much was true. Besides, Will looked tired too.

Jonathan offered to drive them, though he said nothing about staying, and so they shut the front door quietly as he drove away again, both of them unsure of what to do in the dark and quiet of the Wheeler house.

Mike peered into the kitchen. “You hungry?”

Will shrugged. “I could eat.”

He made them sandwiches and they ate them in the basement, afraid of waking someone, though maybe that was an excuse. Mike found he couldn’t trust himself anymore. Could never tell the truth apart from the rest.

“Hey.” Will’s hand on his arm. That look of concern on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Who was Mike to break down in front of someone like Will, who had endured so much? Will who would reprimand him immediately if he knew he ever thought like that. Will who was always so kind even when Mike was not.

“I can’t believe I let you move to California.”

“Mike, what- do you think you had a choice in the matter?”

“I should’ve done something.”

“Do you think I had a choice?”

“No! No, of course I don’t think that.”

“I would never choose to leave.”

“Will, I know that.”

“I feel like you don’t.” His voice had gone low. “Is this why things have been weird? You think I left by choice?”

Mike stood. He had to stand. This was not something you did while sitting. “Listen to me. I don’t think you left by choice.” He emphasized each word, needing Will to believe him. Needing them both to believe him.

“But you think you had a say in the matter?”

“I should’ve at least tried.”

They stared at each other, having reached a dead-end and not knowing how to navigate it. Mike sat down again, mostly because he didn’t like how it felt looming over Will like that. His sandwich lay half-finished, Will’s more than so.

“We can’t change the past,” Will said, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees. “But we have a say in the present, right?”

“Right.”

“So let’s just move on from this stupid conversation and be Mike and Will again.”

Mike found himself smiling. “I’d like that.”

Will smiled back, something small and timid, but when Mike spidered his fingers over his knee, knowing he didn’t like it when you squeezed because it kind of hurt as much as it tickled, Will only jerked away on instinct with a laugh. No recoil. No hands reaching out to stop him until Mike did it again and again and it became too much. Mike and Will again.

*

Lucas could tell something had shifted when Will went to see him at the hospital. They never knew if they should talk as if Max could hear them or not when they were there, and so they danced around it, stealing glances her way as if she could see them. But Will wasn’t really looking at Lucas either that day, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Hi,” he said when he entered, shooting a smile in Lucas’ general direction before throwing himself on the chair beside him.

“Long day?”

Will exhaled. “Too long.”

“It’s only afternoon.”

“I know.”

Lucas leaned back, trying to determine if he was worried or not. Mike had been a forbidden topic, just like Will was a forbidden topic around Mike. Lucas and Dustin had never really talked about why, though he was sure they both had similar thoughts. Will entering the room in a Mike-shaped haze wasn’t new, but it felt stronger that day. It felt as if they needed to talk about it.

Lucas looked at Max. She was always so much better at this. He felt a wave of overwhelming sorrow wash over him as he took in her braids.

“Hey.” Will did look at him now. He wore vulnerability so loudly. Lucas had always admired that about him. “You okay?”

He shook his head and looked at Max again. She was good at this, but she didn’t know Will like he did and she would tell him as much. “Yeah, just miss her.”

Will nodded. “We all do.” Lucas knew that he didn’t mean that they missed her in the same way as he did, just like Lucas hadn’t missed Will in the same way Mike had.

He pursed his lips. How to approach this? “Did you know Mike would go sit by the ruins of Castle Byers on days where he particularly missed you? I don’t mean during your disappearance, but during California.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Though he obviously missed you during your disappearance too. But that was different. He was so determined to find you then. Now he just- I don’t know. Tried to lay with it.”

“Lay?”

Lucas had slipped his eyes shut to allow his friend the privacy of expressions, but he could hear that quiet hope in his voice anyway. “Yeah, lay. Mike Wheeler would never just live with that. He had to get beaten into submission, and then just lay there. Gaining strength.”

Will was quiet for a long time, but Lucas was fine with waiting. “He’s gained some strength,” he finally mumbled.

“Has he.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

Lucas let out a laugh. “You might have known him for a long time, Will, but so have I.”

When he looked at him again, Will was blushing. It was sweet. Max would’ve loved it.

“So what did he do?” he asked when they walked home later, shielded by the dark.

Will let out a strangled sound, which meant Lucas would be forcing it out of him unless he talked because that was just too good. But Will talked. Will seemed unable to not now. “He tickled me.”

Lucas’ laughter didn’t echo over Hawkins, but it did fill a very small section of its air, and that was enough.

*

“Is there a reason you’re sleeping in the basement, then?” Dustin felt proud of the restraint he showed, though Mike probably didn’t agree with him, if his spluttering was anything to go by.

“Will wanted company,” he snapped, rummaging through the clothes he’d left down there, which were certainly more than one set. “Shut up and let me find them.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“I can hear your presence.”

Dustin laughed, something light and genuine in his chest for the first time in months. He’d forgotten how fun it was to rile Mike up over the smallest things. Mike, who never protested when Dustin said Will was special to him. Mike who probably hadn’t allowed himself to feel anything properly in his entire life.

It was also dangerous, riling Mike Wheeler up about something like this. Dustin had to move with care. Preferably he shouldn’t be moving at all, but Dustin had grown bored of inactivity.

“So did you take the floor or?” he asked, not a single mattress in sight.

“We share the couch.”

“Ah, share, huh. I see, I see.”

“Dustin, can you help me find your stupid dice-”

“Why would you keep them in your pocket in the first place? At the very least fold your clothes with care, Jesus, Mike.”

“You sound like Nancy.”

“There are worse people to sound like.”

“There really aren’t- ah, found them.”

“You will take back your Nancy slander immediately or so help me.”

“Did you miss the part where I found your dice-”

“Can you guys hurry up?” Will’s voice from upstairs made both of their heads snap up. “We really don’t have all day.”

“Jeez, someone’s in a hurry,” Mike said, though there was something so fond in his voice. Something Dustin had never heard before, which really said something considering Mike's voice always dripped in honey whenever it came to Will.

“Oh my god.”

Mike turned toward him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Dustin.”

“Nothing.”

“Why are you laughing?”

Why was Dustin laughing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that something - something revolutionary - had finally taken place, or was about to take place, and maybe something in this godforsaken world would finally go right. If Will was too shy and Mike was too much of a coward, then Dustin would have to make sure of it.

*

They were fine because Mike was tickling him again, which meant that Mike was playful again and Will was letting him in enough to be able to be playful with him. It wasn’t just about the tickling and they knew that, but Mike took the opportunity to poke at his ribs only because they were so close, so close, though they found that Mike’s bed squeaked more than the couch in the basement did and maybe they would have to sacrifice the heat up there after all.

They would be fine down there. They were warmer tangled up together down there. Maybe they would talk about it one day, but the world was in shambles and they didn’t need to have all the answers, not yet. As long as Mike was willing to reach out, to touch and tickle and not be afraid of it. As long as Will was willing to let him in without hesitation. Whatever form it all took. As long as they were Mike and Will, tickle fights and cold hard truths and bodies pressed together in the dark, maybe in a different way one day, when they were ready for it. In Hawkins, or somewhere else. 

Yeah, they would be fine. As long as, and all the rest.

[ticklishraspberries]

I suggested the show Yellow Jackets to my parents (it’s super good definitely suggest watching it fr) I was on ep 5 season 1.

There’s two tickle scenes in episode 6, somebody shoot me 🥲🫩

noooo so awkward!

[nhasablogg]

There's no better vengeance than learning to enjoy again

Fandom: Heated Rivalry

Characters: Ilya/Shane

Summary: Ilya won't do anything to Shane without explicit consent, which includes tickling him.

A/N: Inspired by this anon's ask about Ilya being the #consentking. Because he SO is. This is also the fic I've been posting these sneak peeks for hehe.

Words: 2.1k

[Read it on AO3]

Ilya didn’t enjoy being tickled.

The lack of control was part of it. Having grown up in a household where any emotion other than anger was seen as a weakness, he had slowly armored himself in a way to ensure he was nothing but ego and pride to the outside eye. Being tickled just didn’t mesh with that image, and would certainly not bode well if the wrong person caught sight of it. And being out of control like that was dangerous for someone like him. The world wasn’t safe enough for that.

The sensation was another part. Though he wasn’t overly sensitive, he simply didn’t enjoy the feeling of light unwanted touch or, as was usually the case, hard pokes and kneading hands intruding on his person. His body didn’t know what to do with it, and so he ventured into the lack of control territory once more. Pulling knees out of squeezes. Slapping away insisting fingertips. Gritting his teeth all the while.

The fact that the only person who ever tickled him in a way that made him feel safe was his mother - his dead, long gone, wonderful mother - was probably the biggest part of it, though he buried it deep down. It was easier to blame everything else. Easier to pretend it couldn’t be fun in the right circumstances.

Shane never tickled him. Not on purpose, anyway. Ilya had discovered his sensitivity early on, tucked between roaming hands and moans laced with a laugh which could mean anything, really, had Ilya not slowly gotten to know every inch of that body. He knew to steer clear of Shane’s feet, to use more pressure on his inner thighs, to not nuzzle into his neck for too long. He wondered if he showed him the same consideration, or if Ilya had just gotten so good at reigning in his reactions that he had no idea.

He had been tickled by him though, accidentally, when he grabbed his knees to adjust himself, or dug his fingers into Ilya’s sides when something felt good. Innocent actions. Certainly not ticklish enough for Ilya to laugh, though he did remember himself twitching in surprise. If Shane had noticed, he never brought it up. Most importantly he never used it against him.

Ilya tried not to use it against him either, only it became harder once they got closer, once they were boyfriends, and their life was littered with playfulness and domesticity and not just sex. Wrestling Shane to the bed with a deeply ingrained instinct to jam his fingers into his ribs. He was already laughing. Already relaxed and happy and trusting him fully. And the trust was the reason he didn’t. Was the reason he simply pinned his arms to the side and leaned down to kiss him. Mornings of wrapping his arms around his waist in the kitchen, with the sudden urge to curl his fingers over his belly just to make him giggle and squirm into him. A moment of safety, which Ilya could ruin in the disguise of play.

That morning was different. Shane was sprawled out on the bed, sleepy after Ilya had gone down on him twice, and each time he made a sudden movement Shane would twitch and laugh, untouched and yet.

“What is it?” Ilya finally asked, relishing in that smile. All giddiness. All because of him.

Shane pushed his hand away, even though he still hadn’t touched him. “Tickles.”

“What?”

A blush was coloring his cheeks, but Shane wasn’t clinging onto denial or pretence. “I feel really ticklish right now, so I keep thinking you’ll tickle me.”

“I have never tickled you.” Ilya crossed his arms to show he was keeping them to himself. “Wait, how do you feel ticklish?”

Shane shrugged. “Extra sensitive. Giggly. Tired. Safe. I don’t know.”

“Safe?”

He averted his gaze. “I mean, yeah.”

“But you keep thinking I will tickle you?”

He shrugged again.

“So in that case you don’t feel safe.”

“But I do.”

Ilya wet his lips. “Explain.”

“I mean, it’s fun, right? And I trust you would stop when I needed you to.” He was bright red now, but he spoke in earnest.

Ilya hummed.

Another part of why he didn’t like being tickled: it was almost always done without his consent. Ilya didn’t like not giving his consent. Didn’t like that people thought they could just take and take in the guise of fun.

He tilted his head at Shane. Maybe not everyone thought the same way as him. “Do you want me to tickle you?”

Shane let out a strangled laugh. “That sounds stupid when you put it like that.”

“I won’t do it unless you want me to.” Ilya didn’t mean to tease, but he did enjoy the way Shane’s embarrassment shifted form and turned into something sweet. Something shy.

He reached out slowly and allowed himself to touch now, cradling Shane’s cheek in the palm of his hand. He leaned into the touch and said, “We’ve never had any tickle fights.”

Ilya shifted. “We haven’t.”

“Why is that?”

He didn’t have to explain to him that much of their relationship had been a constant tiptoeing of lines they were afraid to cross, and once they did, a quick retreat. For much too long it had been that, until suddenly it wasn’t. It was true that most people would be eager to explore the other side, and it wasn’t that they were afraid, not more than they had to be.

But Ilya didn’t know how to approach this. How something this silly could be so serious to him. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“You could’ve found out.”

“Would you have wanted me to? On my own, I mean?”

“It’s weird to have to tell you about it.”

“Hmm, I lied, actually. I knew about it.”

Shane’s head snapped to the side. “Wait, you did?”

“Yes. For a long time.” He grinned at Shane’s look. “What can I say? I am a gentleman.”

“Ilya,” he whined, giving his chest a light slap. “Why would you not have taken advantage of that?”

Ilya laughed. “It really sounds like you want me to tickle you, Hollander.”

“Don’t Hollander me, Rozanov.”

“You think you can provoke it out of me, huh?”

“That’s usually how it works.”

“I need you to ask for it.” He moved his hand from his cheek to his jaw. “I need you to tell me you will enjoy it, or at the least not mind me doing it.”

Shane’s breath caught. “Why?”

“Because-” He stroked his chin with his thumb. “-I do not want to do something to you that you don’t want me to do.”

“Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Of course.”

“Most people don’t want to be tickled.”

“Are you most people?”

He exhaled slowly. “Some people think it’s fun.”

“And are you some people?” He smiled at him, attempting to keep it light, but Shane looked away anyway. It was cute. It was so cute Ilya nearly crossed his own boundary then and there.

“I don’t know,” he finally mumbled. “It’s been years, and it’s never been like this.”

“Like how?”

“With someone I love. Like this.”

Ilya’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.

He leaned in to press his lips to Shane’s temple. “I love you too much to do something you don’t want me to do. I am not trying to be difficult.”

Shane’s gaze softened. “I know you’re not.”

“And I don’t mean to embarrass you when I tell you I need you to ask for it.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Though I do enjoy your blush.”

“Ilya.”

Ilya hummed as he stroked Shane’s cheek with his knuckles. “Tell me.”

“I’m- not sure I would like it, but- I mean, I would like us to be like that, you know?”

“I know.”

“So.” He seemed to brace himself. Ilya found it unbearably adorable. “Could you tickle me? Please?”

Ilya grabbed his wrist. “Say it again.”

“Ilya-”

“Okay, okay.” He laughed at his impatience. “I need you to tell me when to stop, okay?”

“Jesus Christ-”

“Say ‘hockey’, okay?”

“Yes, yes, fine, hockey it is. Now can you get on with it? I hate the anticipation.”

Ilya grinned. “You love the anticipation,” and he pounced, before Shane had time to protest. Neither of them really expected it, that Ilya would straddle him, that he would take his task so seriously. He wasn’t being merciless about it, though. He didn’t pin Shane’s hands, or dig his fingers into spots that would make him twitch with laughter, twitch and jerk and lose control of his limbs. He kept it light, which, when he thought about it, which he would, many times, probably drove Shane all the more crazy.

“Wahahait,” was all he managed to say at first, a constant begging for Ilya to cut it out, to leave him alone, to stop taking advantage of his sensitivity like this. Only Ilya knew his protests didn’t mean anything, at the very least weren’t a proper call for this to end. He cradled the consent in his bare hands, holding it close as he listened to Shane’s begging, listened to him slowly falling apart without feeling like a monster for it.

“You’re so-” He wasn’t even sure what he meant to say, only knew that Shane’s laughter, which was filling the room almost entirely now, made him feel both excited and strangely powerful for being allowed this. “-fucking cute.”

“Shut up!” Shane spat back, but he had his head thrown back, his hands constantly chasing Ilya’s which skirted over his torso, side, rib, armpit, neck, and back. A chase which could drive anyone mad, but was still simply- fun. For them both.

“I didn’t know you would be so easy to break,” he said, treading somewhat unknown water. But he liked riling Shane up, and Shane and his biting mouth always enjoyed the challenge of having to deal with him.

He all but growled now, all giggly giddiness from before enveloped in something else, something determined. He dug his feet into the mattress and Ilya realized belatedly that he was trying to buck him off, that he was probably aiming to turn the tables, and while that didn’t mean he wanted this to stop, because the safe word was still nowhere near his tongue, it did mean Shane enjoyed the idea of this being mutual. Of this being bodily and competitive, and Ilya wasn’t certain if he wanted that. Ilya was about to ruin a perfectly good consensual thing because he hadn’t thought to bring himself into the equation.

Only when he found himself hesitating and Shane had the perfect opportunity to turn this around, he still remained glued to his back, knees which he had pulled up to Ilya’s sides relaxing, visibly forcing himself to take this with nothing but his shielding hands. Ilya realized it then. That Shane would never do something to him which he hadn’t consented to. That this meant as much to Shane as it did to him.

God knew how Ilya didn’t cry right there and then.

He leaned down and wrapped his arms around him, taking in his surprised exhale and relishing in how he started squirming the minute he realized that Ilya was still tickling him even now. Fingers curling over his upper ribs, with Shane trapped between him and the bed and giggling into his neck, which tickled him a bit and he found that he didn’t care. He was safe here.

“You’re so ticklish,” he mumbled into Shane’s hair, which had Shane slapping his back and laughingly telling him to shut up. “What? Is true. You cannot deny it.”

“You don’t have to be so mean about it,” he said, whining when Ilya hit a particularly bad spot. “Fuck, this tickles so much, Ilya, get off.”

“Hmm, do you really want me to?”

“I- ah! I need you to allow me to squirm.”

Ilya sat up reluctantly. “Fine. Thank you for telling me. I can continue, yes?”

Shane covered his face with his hands. “Yes, god, please continue.”

“Can I tickle your knees?”

“This is gonna be the death of me- yes, you can tickle my knees.”

“Good. I think they will be very bad.”

“I will kick you.”

“Ah, maybe, but as long as you don’t say hockey I will continue.” He poked his belly. “Until we are both satisfied.”

“Domestic life is so weird,” Shane said, very obviously trying to redirect his embarrassment.

Ilya decided to bite. “This can’t be normal domestic life, though, can it?”

“Maybe not.”

“We’re so much less boring. Even you.”

“Oh, ha ha, please tickle me so I will laugh.”

“Oh, I will.” Ilya beamed at him. “Until you ask me to stop.”

[victoria-pedretti]

THE FATE OF OPHELIA 2025 — dir. Taylor Swift

[knisbot]

does asking for tickles ever stop feeling deeply shameful for no reason

[tomurah]

Too, too confident, my boy..

[happyandticklish]

No Fear, No Lies

Notes: Commission for anonymous. You are really fueling my lee Zoey obsession, and for that, I am very grateful <3 As someone who is also terrified of people knowing I want to be tickled despite everyone being cool with it, I can relate to this. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Zoey's been messing with Mira and Rumi lately, and once the two catch onto her game, they decide to get revenge.

Though Rumi and Mira hadn’t said anything about it at first, it wasn’t as though they hadn’t known. In truth, they’d known far longer than even Zoey knew, but there was never any need to say anything. It was a mutual understanding between the two of them, a truth they acknowledged and protected carefully, unwilling to say it out loud for fear of embarrassing the third hunter.

A secret can only be kept secret for so long, however, when it was as obvious as this.

The first instance happened during rehearsals.

The three were workshopping a new single, a release for their upcoming album they’d been working on that they’d just barely managed to contain from the fans—despite Rumi’s not-so-subtle excitement in every interview about a ‘new project’ of theirs nearly ruining everything. Rumi and Mira were lounging lazily on the bed, Mira’s legs kicked up on the wall as she stared up at the ceiling in contemplation. Zoey paced their bedroom, a pen stuck between her teeth as she stared down at a page full of rewritten and slashed out lyrics.

“It’s fine, Zoey,” Mira grumbled. She scrubbed a hand over her face. It was approaching midnight and they had a last-minute interview that Bobby had signed them up for in the morning. Sometimes that man had no sense of timing, even if it usually turned out for their benefit. “We’ve been at this for hours, I don’t see why you can’t just let this go.”

“Let it go?” Zoey whipped around, her eyes looking a little bug-eyed. Rumi stifled a snort. “Oh, sure, I’ll just ‘let it go’ and then you can listen to the complaints of fans when they realize Huntrix has lost their touch.”

“We haven’t lost our touch, it’s one lyric—”

“That could be the difference between a new hit single and a failed meme compilation! C’mon, Rumi, back me up.”

Glancing between the two of them, Rumi chewed on her lower lip for a moment. Gently, she said, “We should definitely workshop it later, first thing tomorrow morning when we get back. But it is getting pretty late…”

“Just five more minutes!”

Zoey glanced up at them, eyes shining with all the hope and eagerness of a small puppy believing it had convinced you to stay home just this once. It was an argument that was incredibly difficult to resist, and Mira rubbed the back of her neck as she said, “Look, we’ll come at it better if we’re a bit more rested.”

A quick head shake from Rumi confirmed she felt the same way. Zoey pouted a little, and then grinned, setting down her pen and paper on the desk and jumping into the bed. Mira grunted, eyes widening a little as Zoey clambering over her, trapping her torso under her legs. “What the hell are you—Z-Zoey!”

This last part was half-gasp as Zoey had latched onto Mira’s hip, lightly spidering her nails over the strip of exposed skin from her shirt riding up. Mira’s face scrunched into an odd grimace as she fought the urge to laugh, her hands scrambling to push Zoey off. But with how Zoey’s legs in the way, it was impossible to reach over to grab at her hands or having any hope of protecting what was one of the few ticklish spots on her body (the other being her knees, a treasured secret that only Rumi knew of and had sworn not to take advantage of). Finally, she couldn’t hold it any longer and a small giggle slipped out, and then another, high-pitched and silly and distinctly un-Mira-like.

“Zohohoey!” she protested, her legs kicking and pushing up the covers. She had taken to trying to cover her smile instead, as stopping the tickling was proving futile. “C-Cuhut ihihit ohohout!”

“Only if you agree to five more minutes of workshop—with your willing participation,” Zoey negotiated smugly. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to keep ti—taking advantage of you!”

The slip-up was small, and Mira missed it, too busy cackling away as she tried to fold in like an armadillo. But Rumi noticed, and her head tilted slightly—considering. She let it go for now, though. “I can’t believe you’re being taken down by a bit of tickling,” she teased, catching the way both Mira and Zoey flushed. Interesting.

“Shut up!” Mira crowed as Zoey added, “You’ll be next if you don’t join my cause!”

Rumi held up her hands innocently. “Hey, I want none of that. Sorry, Mira. I have no choice here, you understand.”

“Traitor!”

The night dissolved into silly laughter and ticklish negotiations that ultimately ended up going nowhere as they were all so exhausted by the end of it that they decided to simply go to bed in the end—which had been the right call, Zoey had to reluctantly admit the next day when the lyric finally came to her after some caffeine and pancakes.

After that, however, Rumi became more aware of Zoey, and a pattern had begun to emerge for her. Usually it came as a surprise, Zoey sneaking up behind one of them on-set or in the bathroom to dig fingers into unexpecting sides. The behavior had gone on all week now, often multiple times a day. At first, Rumi was somewhat flustered and annoyed by the activity, being incredibly ticklish herself and embarrassed that she was always so caught off guard by it. There had been one movie night where Zoey had curled a leg around Rumi’s ankles, trapping them so that she could tickle her feet on-and-off for nearly the entirety of the movie—a spot that was much too ticklish to endure such treatment.

Mira was a tougher cookie to crack, as she really only had the one spot and would usually turn the table on Zoey pretty quickly—not hard as Zoey was much more ticklish than the rest of them, giving in almost immediately and giggling along to the attack.

That was when Rumi put the pieces together. Whenever either of them did retaliate, Zoey would quickly acquiesce and give into her punishment much more willingly than either Mira or Rumi. Rumi couldn’t remember her protesting once, in fact, outside of an insistence here and there that it was too much. When they didn’t fight back or simply went back to what they were doing, there was this look that Zoey got, her shoulders drawn in like a wilting flower.

The fact that Zoey enjoyed being tickled was not one that Rumi had ever assumed was a secret. It seemed so obvious in her demeanor that she couldn’t imagine she was trying to hide it. But something about the way that Zoey so clearly had been trying to get them to tickle her and yet staunchly refused to say anything about it suggested that perhaps this went beyond a normal enjoyment of tickling.

So, Rumi devised a plan with the help of Mira—a plan that would allow them to get to the root of the matter.

“Oh Zoey~” Rumi called out, knocking on the hunter’s door with a deceptively innocent smile. “You in there?”

“We had something we wanted to talk to you about,” Mira added, leaning against the doorframe with all the nonchalance of a panther about to strike.

There was a rustling sound—likely putting away her writing materials—and then a cheery, blissfully naïve voice called out, “Come in!”

Rumi and Mira exchanged glances. They had her.  

Zoey was lying on her stomach in her bed when they entered, clad in sweatpants and a baggy hoodie with her legs kicked up in the air and swinging behind her, headphones slung about her neck. She did not look back at them when they entered. It was an incredibly relaxed and comfy position, which, to Mira and Rumi, translated as a very vulnerable position.

The two slunk towards her slowly while she hummed, the tune of something they had been fiddling with, Rumi recognized, though Zoey had changed a bit of the composition. It was a nice change, and Rumi catalogued it as something to compliment her on later. For now, though, they had business.

Before the younger hunter knew what was happening, Mira had jumped on the bed, swinging her leg around so that she sat on Zoey’s butt, effectively straddling her. Zoey squawked, partly in annoyance, mostly in amusement, shooting back a playful glare as she decisively closed her notebook. “Hey! What are you doing? I’m trying to get some work done here—eep!”

Her sentence was cut off by two hands clamping down onto her ribs. Mira’s fingers drummed in a not-so-casual manner that wasn’t quite ticklish but held its promise poised and ready. In the meantime, Rumi had taken a seat by her legs, leaning against the wall and trapping Zoey’s ankles in her legs in a manner very similar to what Zoey had been doing to her all week.

Breath hitching, Zoey forced some element of nonchalance into her voice as she asked, “W-What’s going on? I really need to work n-nohohow!” The word sputtered into giggles as Rumi playfully spidered over her left foot, which twitched and wagged in protest.

“Work can come later,” Mira said decisively. And then her fingers began to move and Zoey yelped, her arms coming crashing down to clamp against Mira’s hands. Unfortunately, this only trapped them there, leaving Zoey stuck in a ticklish prison of her own making. “Rumi and I come here on business.”

“Whahahat buhuhusiness?” Zoey squeaked incredulously. Rumi had joined back in, so now she was also dealing with a constant fluttering of fingers over her soles. The combination of two incredibly ticklish spots at once was serving to make her brain fuzzy and slow at comprehending things, too focused on the sudden and intense stimulation.

“C’mon Zoey.” Rumi arched a brow, though the other didn’t see it. “You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

“Yeah,” Mira agreed, vibrating her fingers in pulsing shocks. Zoey scrambled to push her off, her laughter tumbling into a series of frantic, high-pitched giggling. “I mean, there’s only so many times you can ambush us before we get suspicious.”

Suddenly, Zoey felt her stomach pitch for much different reasons, and she began struggling more earnestly now, training in vain to wiggle her legs out of Rumi’s grasp. Her face was hot and flushed, embarrassment and nerves fighting for a place inside of her. “Guhuhuys w-wahahait!”

Assuming it was merely because of the tickling, Mira plowed on. “You know you can just ask us if you want to be tickled, right? You don’t have to provoke us every time. I mean, I don’t think Rumi could take that.” She shot a smirk back at the other hunter who narrowed her eyes at her.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“You’re right—more, probably.”

But Zoey wasn’t listening to their bickering. Her hands had tightened the moment Mira had started speaking, her heart racing in her chest. You know you can just ask us if you want to be tickled, right? The words echoed over and over again in her mind, causing her cheeks to grow redder by the second. Trying to force a nonchalance into her voice that was incredibly difficult when laughing and squirming like a maniac under your friends, Zoey scoffed. “Y-Yeah right! I dohohon’t w-want to be, umm—” Like before, she wasn’t able to get the word out, and it sat heavy on her tongue, her insides twisting pleasantly at the thought of it.

Tickled. It was such a simple word, so why did it make her feel so discombobulated?

“Tickled?” Rumi filled in for her, raising a brow. Her expression was more curious than teasing, which was almost worse. “Are you not able to say it?”

Zoey huffed, rolling her eyes, and finally managed to flip herself over at least. Which turned out to be a huge mistake as now she could see both Mira and Rumi staring down at her, their unwavering, intense eye contact only making this situation so much more unbearable than it was before. They had both, mercifully, paused their tickling for a moment, and Zoey felt a small pang at its absence. “Please, don’t be ridiculous, Rumi, of course I can say it!”

“Okay.” Mira crossed her arms in expectation. “So say it.”

Several seconds ticked by in silence as Zoey struggled to try to find a way to say a word that always twisted and tangled on her tongue until if it did finally come out, it was gibberish by that point. Finally, she simply averted her gaze, her lip jutting out in the tiniest of pouts. “Well, now I don’t want to, since you’ve made it into some weird demand! Geez!”

But her blustering wasn’t working, much to her chagrin. It was clear that neither Mira nor Rumi believed her, but they didn’t look judgmental or grossed out or annoyed as she had always feared. They looked a bit amused, maybe, but mostly Zoey would have categorized the expression on their face as endeared.

“It’s okay to want to be tickled, you know,” Mira said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “We didn’t do this to humiliate you. We didn’t think it was this big of a deal.”

There was a hand on her knee, and though Zoey jumped, it was only comforting, not tickly—for now, anyway. “Yeah,” Rumi agreed. “We’ve always sort of known that you liked it. You never fought us off whenever we tried.”

“I don’t think I can even recall you asking us to stop, most times,” Mira chimed in.

“It just seemed like you’d been wanting it more than usual this week, so we wanted to sort of surprise you with it.” Rumi’s shoulders slumped slightly, sheepishly. “I’m sorry if it seemed like some weird trick.”

Zoey stared between the two of them, searching their eyes to find some measure of disgust or dishonesty, but all she came up with was love and acceptance. Her heart tugged and she felt oddly like crying, though she pushed the feeling down, not wanting to ruin the moment. “O-Oh. You don’t think it’s weird?”

“A little,” Mira admitted, ever honest, and Zoey couldn’t help but wince. Mira noticed and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “But only as weird as we all are, and definitely not weirder than living a secret, underground life where you kill demons.” This prompted a small but real laugh out of Zoey. “Besides, it’s a part of you, which means it’s just as great as the rest of you. We just want you to be able to ask if you want it, instead of feeling like you have to force it.”

“Not to mention,” Rumi added, her serious expression turning slightly mischievous. “It’s easy to indulge you. You’re so ticklish sometimes that it’s hard not to tickle you. Especially when it gets you all flustered like this.”

“Rumi!” Zoey croaked, though the admonishment was accompanied by a shy smile.

“Rumi’s right,” Mira agreed with a shit-eating grin that sent a shiver down Zoey’s back. “We might even be having more fun tickling you than you do being tickled.”

The earlier nerves were returning, though this time they were tinged by acceptance and were far more pleasant in nature now that she knew she had nothing to fear from her friends—except, perhaps, the very real possibility of being tickled within an inch of her life. She knew neither of them would jump back into tickling her until they knew she was okay, but she could tell they were both poised and ready for it if Zoey said the word. And Zoey did want to say the word.

“W-Well,” Zoey started, unsure how to proceed—how to ask for something she had been too embarrassed to ask for all her life. “You can—if you want—could you maybe—”

“Could we maybe?” Mira tilted her head with a smirk and Rumi smacked her lightly.

“Oh, lay off her. She’s nervous enough as is, no need to drag it out.”

“You’re right,” Mira conceded with faux innocence. “We can make her ask for it next time.”

Before Zoey could squeak out “next time??” or protest the idea of being made to say the word in any capacity—though the thought made butterflies erupt in her stomach—Mira’s hands were on her again, kneading into her hips and causing Zoey to squeal, shoving at her hands frantically.

“Woah, dramatic much?” Mira snorted. “Relax, it’s just tickling. Nothing to get so worked up about.”

“Mihihihira!”

“What, it’s the truth! This is what you wanted, remember?”

“What you’ve been wanting for weeks,” Rumi added, holding her foot taut so she could scribble under her toes—an utterly unfair move that Zoey greatly resented and loved being used against her in equal measure. Rumi smiled pleasantly. There was something softer, more innocent about Rumi’s teasing, that was somehow much worse than Mira’s devious approach. “Surely you did realize that getting tickled would tickle… right?”

The nerve of the two of them! Zoey squeaked and giggled helplessly, choosing to hide her face behind her hands instead of trying to fight them off. Her legs twitched and strained against their hold, wanting more than anything to kick and thrash about.

“Oh, hell no, none of that!”

Quick as a flash, Mira had snatched both of her hands, tugging them over her head and leaving her pinned in a matter of seconds. Zoey’s breath abandoned her in one quick whoosh as her eyes widened, flushing under this new vulnerable position. Mira just stared at her for a moment while Zoey struggled to come up with a defense, distracted by the horribly ticklish scribbles against her feet.

“M-Mira!”

“Zoey."

“N-Not thehehehere seheheriously! It’ll tihihickle!” In her haste to save herself, Zoey was able to get the word out without even realizing what she had done. Mira noticed but decided not to comment on it at that moment.

“Oh really?” Mira drawled, raising her free hand to wiggle her fingers threateningly over her armpits. Zoey whimpered and squirmed and pressed herself as far into the mattress as she possibly could. “So you’re saying it would tickle?”

“Yehehes!”

“Tickling this spot, right here, would tickle?”

“Yehehehes!” Zoey cried, more insistently, growing more and more giggly every time she said it. She could feel the anticipatory tickles racing through her, almost too much all on their own.

Mira pretended to think about it for a moment. “Well in that case, I should definitely do it, right? After all, you do want to be tickled. I’d hate to disappoint.”

The room was filled with the sounds of shrieking laughter as Mira finally descended, causing Zoey to arch off the bed and nearly scramble out of their hold. She wasn’t lying about the ticklishness of the spot, that was for sure. But Mira and Rumi managed to wrangle her back down and continued to torment her for a while longer, much to Zoey’s chagrin and delight.

Twenty minutes later, the three of them lay in an exhausted, giggly heap, Zoey flopped down on the bed while Mira played with her hair and Rumi rubbed her back soothingly.

Zoey mumbled something incoherent into her pillow that might have been, “That was so mean.”

Rumi and Mira chuckled at their friend, shaking their heads. “Right,” Mira agreed, sarcasm heavy in her tone. “So mean of us to do exactly what you wanted.”

The three sat in silence for a while. Rumi stared musingly at the wall as they sat there, before at last saying, “You know you can ask, right? In the future? I know it’s hard for you to say it, and I won’t pretend to know why it’s so hard, but if it’s something you want, you could always… I don’t know, write it out or something, or use a synonym. But you’re always allowed to ask.”

Zoey didn’t respond to that, much too embarrassed from earlier events to form words or any kind of tangible language. But her ears flushed, and she reached back a hand, which Rumi squeezed gently.

“Though, tickling Rumi is a fairly effective way of getting this too, though, if you want to keep that method,” Mira added with a sly grin, only to grunt as she was smacked in the face with a pillow by a disgruntled and flustered Rumi.

“Hey no fair! I’m not the one who likes it.”

“Well, actually, if you want to look at the evidence—”

As the two of them continued to bicker, Zoey curled her arms under her chin, resting her cheek against her hand as she smiled, content.

It was a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

[sshiostwordblog]

Ok so I don’t like this comic I made but whatever Im posting it anyways

In honor of Stranger Things season 5 and Byler rising, this how the scene in s5 ep4 SHOULD’VE turned out 🙏🏻

[ticklishraspberries]

i will actually never forgive hulu for cancelling the great but after how fucking bad season 3 was i really cannot blame them because what was even happening there

[ticklishraspberries]

Okay but hear me out: Ilya and Shane in the very beginning of everything and Ilya finds out on accident that Shane is ticklish. Now we all know and love our grumpy reserved Ilya so they most probably wouldn’t get into a proper tickle fight until their relationship is more establish BUT Ilya would still be an absolute dick about it, acting like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when grazing against Shane’s ribs or something - ruining the moment but making it seem like it’s on Shane, not his teasing

ahhh, so so cute, ty for the ask xx

[ticklishraspberries]

if u use chatgpt for fics or fic inspo or roleplay you’re a loser and i’m blocking you jsyk