Project hail mary (tickle fic: Ler!Ryland Grace, Lee!Reader)
🌌 Summary: Grace is a filthy cheater when he's drunk - you're more than willing to match his mischief.
🪐Tags: Ryland Grace & Reader, tickling, fluff. 1.5k words
💫 Prompt: "thinking about rocky seeing you give grace raspberries for the first time and being baffled because he’s seen tickling before but this is new and weird and grace is reacting SO strongly,,, cue rocky asking a million questions to which you say “i don’t know, grace is the scientist here, why don’t you ask him” and grace having to explain the logistics behind it all while in hysterics, rushing to get his words out before you raspberry him again and he can barely talk though laughterrrr i’m on such a lee!grace kick atm i need that man to be wrecked within an inch of his life"
🛰️Author's note: At long last, new fic!! Sorry this one took so long! I'm still not super happy with it but I wanted to give yall something this week! <3.
🌌 Credits: (thank you to @//harringtonsslvt for the post layout inspo! Space dividers by @//strangergraphics)
You and Grace could be incredibly stupid sometimes. In your defence, you'd had several months with only each other to perfect your specific brand of ridiculous.
So it's no surprise to either of you that you're here again, chasing Grace down for sabotaging his way to Mariokart victory. Shoving the other players does not constitute a valid strategy, in your book, and you intend to make that point via a suitably childish retribution.
Though perhaps the fact you're both a little tipsy is clouding your judgement.
"Ok, ok ok-"
Ryland backs against the wall, looking suitably ridiculous. His legs nearly trip over one another, and he can't seem to stop laughing. The screen behind him proudly displays his ill-won place on the leader-board.
He sends you a pleading look - one that begs you to reconsider the course of action he knows you'll take. But you've both done this dance before - he never means it.
Knowing this, and seeing the poorly concealed giddiness in his eyes brings a smile to your face. Ryland knows you've made your choice, and holds his hand out in front of him.
"C'mon, wait, wait wait-"
You laugh, longer than you usually would. It's all so silly. “Nah.”
In a split second, you leap over, and barrel head-first into your target. You attack without mercy: your hands aim ticklish jabs at his sides, his stomach, his ribs. He curls up instantly, careless giggles and useless bargaining immediately filling the room.
"Yes yes yes, get him!" Rocky exclaims.
"Rohock! Have some sympathy!"
"No!" Normally, when there is a dispute, Rocky is quick to point out who started it - but in times like these, it is unclear to all of you. Grace may have started the shoving, but only because you tried to block his view of the screen.
You glance up at Grace, who has backed even further against the wall in his struggling, his shirt dishevelled. He sees the look in your eyes, and starts giggling.
“Hah- okay, okahay, what…whatever it is you’re thinking of doING-” His voice pitches up as you lean closer, grabbing his midriff. He attempts to block you with his hands, but not much effort goes into the gesture.
“Listen, listen, we can talk ABOUT- OH NO-” The rest of his sentence is swallowed by a shriek, because you’ve ignored him, and instead shoved your head under his shirt to plant a raspberry against his stomach. Ryland bats ineffectually at your head, his torso twisting and shaking with high pitched laughter - and then, adorably, he snorts. You withdraw after a moment - partly to catch your breath, and partly so you can watch him giggle himself silly as he recovers.
“Ha- oh fudge-” He mutters, an unabashed grin still lingering on his face.
Rocky chimes up from behind, tapping his foot. “…What was that, question?”
You both pause, glancing down at him. “Huh?”
“The noise.”
“What, this?” You immediately lean in and give your companion another raspberry. The shrieking returns, and he keeps trying to suck his stomach in to get away. It doesn’t work.
“Yes.” Rocky shuffles.
“Care to explain, Dr. Grace?” You grin, poking unpredictably at his sides with one hand and holding him for stability with the other. Ilyukhina's vodka was dangerous.
Grace whines at the suggestion, pushing lightly at your hands.
“Oh, why mehehe?”
“It’s, uhhh- s'your turn to field a Rocky question. I did the last one.”
“Ha- oh jeez, do I have to?” He looks at Rocky pleadingly.
“Yes.”
“Great. So it’s called a raspberry-EEE-”
His sentence devolves into a shrill squeal. Maybe it’s a little mean you interrupted him to give Rocky another demonstration. Oddly, though, it's hard to find a trace of guilt in your heart.
“…Like earth fruit, question?”
You draw back, nodding in Rocky's direction. “Yep.”
Ryland rakes a hand through his hair, and glares. His betrayal is completely staged.
“You’re not -gonna make this easy for me, are you?”
You shrug, intoxicated laughter threatening to drown your words.
“You're the one taking ages to explain.”
“Why called raspberry, question?”
“I dohon't know, bud, you'll have to check the database!” His breath hitches when you start spidering slowly over his ribs. He pouts, and if anything it just motivates you to continue.
“Grace laugh a lot when raspberry.”
“Yea, bud, because it really TICKLES-”
You do it again, because he's not exactly pushing you away. Grace curls inwards, holding onto your shoulders for dear life as he laughs.
"Raspberries work anywhere else, question?"
Ryland just giggles helplessly, his grip on you tightening, making absolutely no moves to stop you. Regardless, you take pity, and ease off a bit.
“Go on.” You nod for him to continue, lightly squeezing his sides. He's barely stopped laughing, clearly just as giggly as you after a couple drinks.
“Yea, thehey do.” He mutters, a note of resignation in his voice.
"Like where, question?"
He pauses.
...There is no universe where you manage to stop Grace from immediately burying his face against your neck. No universe where you push him away before he takes a deep breath. And no universe where he doesn't then declare, with all the smugness in the world:
"Here."
And then you feel it.
Grace's beard really tickles.
You manage to shout a single expletive before you're lost to unfiltered cackling. Your body seizes in its hysterics, trying to writhe out of the way - but every movement only seems to trap him further against your shoulder. There's nowhere to go. Besides, in your half-drunk state, where every touch feels like dozy sunlight on a nice afternoon, you don't particularly want to go anywhere.
You still protest, though.
"GRACE! Plehehease!"
"Sorry," He pauses, chuckles. "Is your neck too ticklish?"
"Shut UP-" Your voice slides higher when his stubble brushes your collarbone, and squeaky giggles wreak havoc on your little remaining coherency.
"You want me to stop talking?"
"YES!"
"Good. Raspberries make it kinda hard to talk, so that works out for both of us." He blows another one to illustrate his point.
"GRACE-" You shout between giggles, infuriated. He ignores you - just nuzzles slightly closer, the buzzing of his beard on your skin sending you into utter hysterics.
"So..." He leans back to look down at your audience. "Any more questions, Rock?"
"Not sure."
"Ok. Well, I'm aiming to repay my four raspberries here, so I've only got two more left. Better think of one fast."
"...You are both very drunk."
"S'not a question, bud."
"...Why do raspberries work on stomach but not sides, question?"
"I meannn," He shrugs. "I never said they didn't."
"Great," You huff, trying to extricate yourself from the odd half-hug Grace has trapped you in.
"It is great, actually." He pulls you closer like it's nothing, and nudges at your shirt.
"You know what's not great? Cheating at Mariokart."
He doesn't say anything - just takes another deep breath. You brace yourself, hoping to contain your reactions a little better.
It doesn't work.
"ahaHA-" Your legs kick out wildly. "RockEE- HELP!"
"What would I do? Am in ball." He's got a point, unfortunately.
Grace finally pauses for breath, and you think he might be about to show mercy.
But then he looks at Rocky, and looks at you, and frowns.
"Hm, I wonder..."
He grabs your leg, pulling it straight. His hand rests on the cuff of your shorts, above your exposed knee, stabilising it.
Your eyes go wide.
"No."
"What, you think it'll work?"
You hesitate. He doesn't bother letting you contemplate further - just leans in, and brings his mouth to the skin behind your knee.
It's awful. It's wonderful. It's so stupid and ridiculous. You smile so wide. You laugh so hard.
This chaos is comfortable to you both, and you know neither of you would change it.
It takes a while for you to notice that Ryland has stopped - you're still laughing when he turns you around to face him.
"Uh oh. Someone's got a case of the giggles."
There's a special kind of withering glare you reserve only for when Ryland really annoys you - but you use it here, just for fun. Just to see him tut and roll his eyes.
"Happy?" You fold your arms.
"Very." He smirks. You shove at him gently.
"Still do not understand why called raspberry." Rocky crawls closer. "On Erid we call it-"
He stops. The quiet that follows tells you all you need to know.
"...Rocky..." You start.
"Nevermind." He chimes, moving to scuttle away.
Grace grins wildly.
"No, no. Continue. What do you call it on Erid?"
The conversation devolves rapidly, and you lean back to watch. The night is still young, it seems. Plenty of time for Rocky to witness some more of the incredible stupidity you are all accustomed to.
if you're sitting on a fanfic idea because you think it's "too weird" or "too niche" I need you to understand something: the internet is VAST and FULL of people with your exact brand of weird. that crackship that makes sense only to you? there are at least 50 people who will read it and go "oh my god FINALLY." but even if there were ZERO? you still deserve to write the thing that makes your brain light up.
content notes: Tickling (Like this is a tickle fic. Fair warning. If that's not your thing that's okay but it would be very rude to take the time out of your day to tell me so!), Lee!Holland March x Ler! reader (Mostly. A little bit of switchiness), Public tickling (But nobody pays any mind), Alcohol/intoxication, Cursing, Mutual romantic interest, Jealousy (from Holland), Gender neutral reader, Reader is described as smaller than Holland, Reader’s laughter described as pretty.
a/n: Hey so there'd probably be a bartender at this bar but uhhh let's all collectively pretend they've gone on an extended break. They're in the back room taking a nap, okay? ALSO. This is my first fic in years. YEARS. YEARSSS. I've been editing forever and my brain's turned to slime so I've just gotta go "Here! It's good enough!" I'm not even gonna look at it again before I publish. Being so brave about it.
4k words
In all your years as a private investigator, you’d never had a case quite like this most recent one. What began as a typical ‘I think my husband is cheating on me’ case, ended up spiralling into the discovery of some shady secret society bullshit. It was a tough case, and just when you’d been about to drown under the weight of it all, your path crossed with Healy and March, who were working the same case as you. It was a relief to have a team of three heads rather than one, and both parties had information the other hadn’t yet discovered, leading to bright new insights and refueled momentum.
Throughout the case, there had been multiple missteps and turn-arounds and plot-twists and shoot-outs that could have really ended terribly (well, could have ended terribly for the three of you, and did end quite terribly for the guys on the other side of the fight). But you all pulled through, and closed the case earlier this evening.
Now, the three of you are celebrating at some hole-in-the-wall bar that somehow manages to feel quite homey. You’re sitting on the middle barstool between Healy and March. At this hour, there aren’t many other patrons scattered about the small bar: Some guy’s passed out on the table across the room (but he’s fine). A couple have been canoodling in a back booth for who knows how long.
Holland’s been animatedly retelling the story of his standoff with one of the goons he’d encountered and fought off while you and Healy were separated from him. His story wraps up and your shared laughter peters out. A swell of silence takes over the moment.
“Well,” Healy’s gruff voice says from your left, as he taps his empty whiskey glass on the bar. “I’m gonna call it for tonight.”
It’s late. It’s a very reasonable time to leave. You understand. But there’s a sad twist to the smile you give him as you nod. You’ve been through so much together and you’re not sure when you’ll get to see him again.
He rises from his stool, pulling out his wallet. He slips out a few bills and places them on the bartop. Then slips out a business card and hands it to you, holding your gaze. “Call anytime, understand? For anything.”
The gesture, coming from someone else, might leave room for you to wonder if they were making a pass at you. But from Healy it’s clear there’s nothing beyond a platonic sense of care and protection in the offer.
You stand, blinking preemptively to keep your eyes from misting, and wrap your arms in a strong hug around Healy’s shoulders. “Thank you for everything,” you say as you squeeze.
He seems caught off guard for just a moment, then softens, returning the hug. “Our pleasure,” he says, his gruff voice softening in an almost avuncular way.
As you mutually withdraw from the hug, he locks eyes with March, who’s slouched so far sideways over the bar his whole arm from armpit to elbow is flush against it, holding him up. His head’s propped on his hand. Beer bottle hanging limply from the fingers of his second hand.
“‘Night, March,” Healy says, quick and casual.
March lifts his bottle, two fingers raised in some sort of wave-salute hybrid.
“Get home safe, yeah?” Healy says, eyes back on you as he shrugs on his stormy blue leather jacket.
You nod. “‘Course. G’night, Healy,” you say.
And he nods, then heads out.
The interaction had been tender. You’d been through a lot these past few weeks. And it was the kind of goodbye that honoured that.
Holland, though, to your right, has been watching the interaction through squinted eyes.
Was there something going on between Healy and you? You’d all gotten close over the course of the case. Spent a lot of time together. He wouldn’t put it past Healy to be interested. Who wouldn’t be? You’re wonderful. And brave. And stunning. And smart and delightful and funny and fierce and everything else that is good.
Okay, so. Holland’s taken with you. He’d gone from interested to smitten after spending less than a week in your company. And smitten had fermented into pining and then into yearning over the remainder of the case.
He huffed.
Healy was his partner. And if something was going on there… With you… With Healy and you… That… would be a good thing. For Healy. And for you, probably.
Not for March, though. Very very bad for March.
He couldn’t help the bitterness that rose up his throat.
He could be good for you. If you’d let him. If you wanted that.
You could do much better, though. He pouts, peering down the dark neck of his beer bottle.
Healy would be better. Someone in a much safer line of business would be even better.
But God he wanted to be the one to be good for you.
You miss all signs of his rumination as you settle back into your seat. When you turn back to March with a small smile, you find him closed off. He’s swiveled the angle of his stool to face the bar. He’s hunched over slightly as he fiddles with the label of his beer bottle, the sticker wet and flimsy with condensation. A hint of a petulant little sulk hides behind his ‘stache.
He removed his suit jacket on arrival, draped it over the backrest of his seat. Throughout the night his tie’s gotten looser. Sleeves of his white shirt rolled up his forearms. You try not to let your eyes linger on the way the blonde dusting of hair on his arms glitter in the warm light.
You draw in a breath and release it audibly. He says nothing.
“So,” you start, inviting him into conversation. Just a word to acknowledge the changed dynamic of the night. No longer a group outing. Just you and March.
March is prompted out of the bubble of his thoughts by your voice, but only somewhat. He turns his face to you, squints at you, as if trying to figure you out. Finally he points the lip of his bottle toward you, and asks, “Who d’you think would win in a fight? Me or Healy?”
You raise your eyebrows in surprise at the question but play along. “Uh, Healy.”
“Wh–?” his face crunches into a petulant frown. He dismisses the notion with a little pff. “Name one good reason.”
“Well, you’re quite drunk,” you say, grinning.
He’s not that drunk. He’s only had, what, three drinks more than Healy? So, like, five drinks more than you. And he’s off the hard stuff for the night. Switched to beer! But then, he’d arrived at the bar on the buzz he’d been stoking all day. He isn’t incoherent, by any means. He’s lucid. He’s on the looser, swimmy-minded side of lucid. But lucid enough.
He tips the beer bottle again, as if pointing at you, as if it’s a natural extension of his hand. He’s got a lifted look to his features, like he’s just cracked some sort of code. “But if I wasn’t drunk,” he prompts.
“Healy.”
He deflates with a little grunt. “Could at least pretend to think about it,” he mumbles, and takes a dejected swig of his beer.
“Mm, sorry. You’re right,” you say, playing along. “Let me think.” You lean back in the bar stool, eyes closed, like you’re really mulling it over. “And if… oh, but if… mm… aaand, carry the one…” You open your eyes. “Still Healy.”
Despite himself, he scoffs his way into a laugh and you follow.
“Okay, what about…” His tongue darts out to wet his lip, then swivels his stool to face you more directly, leans back, arm draped languidly along the bar, chest unsubtly puffed. “A fight between me and your boyfriend. Who’d win then?” he asks, shrugging one shoulder, trying and failing at nonchalance.
Oh. Your heart flutters.
You hold his gaze and assure him, “Don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Mm.” He nods in a slow, serious way, brows pinched in concentration as he considers this. “What about Healy or your boyfriend?”
You blink at the question and sputter out a chuckle. “... Still don’t have a boyfriend.”
You see the moment his mind properly processes this, the inner machinations of his mind projected clearly through his features.
“Oh,” he huffs out with a breathy laugh at his blunder and flushes, tries and fails to bury the blush as he sweeps a hand over his face. But his demeanor changes, no longer puffed-up but light and lifted and open. He’s got the dusting of a grin on his lips as he crooks the elbow of the arm on the bar and leans his head back onto his hand.
When his eyes find you again, there’s something simmering behind them.
“What about you and me then?” his tone tips flirtatious.
Your heart flips. Finally.
The case is over, and he’s finally making a move.
“You and me?” you ask with a smile, eyes wide and glittering with interest.
“Yeah,” he affirms with a nod. Your lips just manage to part around a pleased response, when he follows up with, “Who’d win that fight?”
Oh…. The air punches out of your chest.
He’s not asking you out. He’s still doing his little bit.
But he’s looking at you. He’s flirting. Progress is progress, you suppose.
“Me,” you reply, brushing your disappointment aside and relenting into a grin.
His eyes do a quick sweep of your frame. The look isn’t suggestive in nature. He’s taking stock. Pointing out your stature compared to his. “Really?”
“Oh yeah,” you say, nodding. “For sure.”
He makes a baffled, amused face. He’s no martial artist, by any means, but he can hold his own. And you can too. It’s necessary for the job, and you’re both good at what you do. It should be a relatively even match. His confusion’s clear on his face.
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” you add, to explain your reasoning, letting the tone of the moment turn tender.
Holland flushes warm pink. “Ah.” He doesn’t argue. Saves himself from his own bashfulness with another swig of beer.
“What about another kind of fight, then?” he suggests, voice playful and definitely flirty now. He leans in closer by a fraction. “Who’d win in a battle of wits?” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Me.”
He barks out another baffled grunt of defeat at your immediate confident reply, jerking his entire form in a dramatic show of dismay. The movement has his seat swivelling beneath him, sending partway around in a circle, and he makes these twisting thrusts of his hips and knees to manoeuvre the seat back in place to face you.
You’ve always been one to turn giggly after a few drinks, and tonight, it seems, is no different. His reaction, followed by the awkward hip swivels, tips you into such a spell of laughter, you completely miss the way he lights up at the sound.
And Holland March is nothing if not a dog with a bone.
He’s been single-mindedly focused on this thing he’s been doing, trying to find any angle, any chain of events, any possible world where he comes out victorious over others, in your eyes. But then you laugh, and he preens and immediately flings that old goal into the dumpster in the back of his mind.
New goal: More pretty laughter, please.
“Whattabout a pillow fight?” he asks, having landed back in place. He leans his head on his hand again, the gesture warm as he watches you.
“Me,” you reply through your slightly waning giggles.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Snakes and ladders?”
You sputter into a fresh bout of laughter at the suggestion. Snakes and ladders is a game of chance. But still, you point to yourself.
“Dammit!” he shrieks, his voice high and piercing.
You startle at the sound and cast a quick glance around the bar. With wide eyes, you shush him as well as you can while you’re being swept away in the fresh rapids of your laughter, but he’s undeterred.
“Dominoes?”
You point to yourself.
“Hopscotch?”
You wheeze at the mental image and point to yourself.
“Tiddlywinks?”
Your laughter goes silent. You fold at the waist and drop your forehead against the bar, cushioned by the back of your hand. You bang a closed fist against the bar once before pointing toward yourself again.
Holland’s gone warm all over. Must be blushing to high heavens. Eyes have maybe been replaced with thumping cartoon hearts. But he can’t find it within him to care.
“Tickle fight?”
You’re not thinking. It’s not a conscious decision you make. You’ve gone so giggle-drunk your wrist pivots of its own volition. Your finger points toward him.
His eyes widen with surprise and delight, brows elevating near into his hairline. Because this is not only an absolutely adorable turn of events, but also quite a promising lead. You mean he can get you giggling and he doesn’t even need to be funny or clever to earn it? The goal-oriented part of his brain starts chiming like a slot machine that’s hit the jackpot.
Your brain catches up with your hand a moment too late. A soft gasp interrupts your laughter and you sit up a bit. Your eyes go wide at your own hand, and you sharply close the traitorous finger into the rest of your fist, as if a statement you could retract.
Holland sputters out a laugh. “Ah, I’ve got a chance there, do I?” he teases, reaching out to poke at your ribs, exposed by your leaning forward against the bar.
You squeak at the touch and shake your head. “I didn’t mean that!” you insist, though a helpless reinvigoration of giggles are already sweeping you away, and your whole torso’s jolting sideways with every prod of his finger. Your elbow tucks in protectively but Holland works around it.
“No?” Holland chuckles. Lands another few pokes. “I’unno. Seems like you might be really sensitive. Told on yourself pretty good there, didn’t you?”
“Fuck off,” you say through snickers, batting at his hand. Your face has flushed hot and your abdomen’s beginning to ache from the exertion of sustained laughter. “‘S not fair. I’m already laughing! Ow.” You pout, an overdramatic bid for mercy.
“Mm,” Holland hums, the tone of it disbelieving. But he relents, withdrawing his hand. “Fair eno—AUGH!” He spasms at a fizzy burst of sensation between his ribs.
You both freeze at his response, even as you’re still fighting to recover from your giggle attack. Your hand stills in place where it had darted out to prod at him. Mischievous glee spreads slow across your face.
His widened eyes meet your eager ones. The nervous anticipation fizzling within him is shoddingly masked by an attempt at a warning glare.
“Think about what you’re doing,” he cautions, his pointer finger raised in a show of sternness, but it trembles.
“I am,” you assure him, voice laced in innocence. “‘M thinkin’ this’ll be really fun.”
You waste no time digging back in, and your touch sends Holland’s already thready composure crumbling.
Where Holland’s approach had been a step above timid, just a few pokes, yours is unbridled.
Your clawed fingers have latched into the intercostal spaces of his ribcage and squeeze away with lethal precision.
He fights it for half a moment, tensing and stammering out a fitful stream of shit’s and fuck’s before biology takes over. He dissolves with a wheeze into reluctant laughter, his body curling around the site of your attack.
You’ve never seen him this way. His face all flushed and scrunched with merriment is, perhaps, the most adorable sight of your life. You can’t help melting a little, and chuckling along with him.
“Oh no. Seems like you might be really ticklish,” you parrot his own words back to him.
He shakes his head and eeks out a wheezy Shuddup, cheeks blooming rose red.
You turn your ear toward him. “Hm? What was that?”
As soon as he starts trying to form the words again, you dart your hand to his leg, squeezing just above the knee. A shrill yelp replaces any attempt at a response. He folds over, bumbling hands trying to reach for yours, blocked by the bar.
“Oh, nothing?” you say, uber-casual. “Strange. Thought you had something to say.”
“God, shit,” he squeaks, one weakened hand finally finding yours, trying and failing to pry at your fingers.
“No, you’re right. That was cruel of me. This any better?” you ask, shifting your hand higher to squeeze at his mid-thigh.
He snorts, squawking through his laughter. His legs shift and kick aimlessly under your hand. The toe of his shoe bashes against the lower wall of the bar and, though Holland carries on unharmed, the bang reverberates through the space.
“Shhh. Jeez, would you behave?” you tease, but don’t let up. You glance around the bar but nobody’s paying you any mind. The canoodling couple has left (or snuck into the bathroom). The passed-out guy’s snoring on the table. “People are trying to have a quiet evening here.”
He whines at your words but doesn’t retort. Just lets himself laugh as he reaches clumsily under the bar, across his lap, for your hand with his free one—the one not concerned with keeping the beer bottle dangling between his fingers from getting smashed or spilled in the fray.
You leave his leg alone and take advantage of his exposed underarm, prodding into the hollow. His arm slams down to his side, punctuated by a surprised bark of laughter. And thank god these barstools have backrests or Holland would’ve ended up on the floor, with the way he throws himself backward in a fruitless attempt to evade your touch.
You let yourself admire the way his hair bounces in the bar’s low light, his head thrown back, crow’s feet crinkling as he’s wracked with desperate, defiant cackles. His free hand finally finds its bumbling way across his chest to your forearm, but doesn’t wrench at you or push you away. Just grabs onto you as if for an anchor, grip strong but not too tight. His palm is warm.
“Uh oh, bad there?” you tease with a helpless, besotted grin. He’s too far gone to respond, poor thing.
You let up a little, opting for light fluttery fingertips and nails where you’ve been deep-tissue wriggling.
He sucks in a quick breath and curses, but it’s a paltry show of distress. With his shoulder jerked upward, ear angled down protectively, he disintegrates into giggles so bubbly you want to bottle them. You wonder, for one too-hopeful second, if he might curl so far to the side his head comes to rest on your shoulder, but he remains relatively upright.
When his curled-in stance proves to be ineffective protection, his head tips back again, and he slips down in his seat, revealing features that are undeniably mirthful. He looks so free and boyish a fresh wave of affection crashes over you. Your hand freezes in place.
He blinks his eyes open through the lingering giggles and the glimmer in the blue of them is far too reminiscent of the way a sun glitters on a lake.
He’s had his eyes scrunched shut all this time, giving you the luxury of getting away with doing absolutely nothing to rein in the blatant adoration on your face. But eyes-open means he can see you now, and some alarm goes off in your mind: Shit, too vulnerable. Abort abort abort.
Your face flushes hot, and you slip your hand from the crease of his armpit, dropping it to your lap. You run your palms along your thighs as you turn back to the bar, clearing your throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure.
You manage a glance back at him, and any notion that you’d been caught ogling him are quelled. He’s completely occupied with recuperating. Melted back in his seat, one arm crossed lazily over his middle, the other thrown over his eyes. His grin seems like it may be permanently stained across his face.
You have to remind yourself, quite pointedly, not to watch the way his chest fills and falls as he heaves his way back to even breath. You bury your compounding blush by taking a sip of your long forgotten drink.
“Y’okay over there?” you quip gently, grinning.
His shoulders shake with the remnants of breathy snickers. He doesn’t look over, but gives you the finger.
You snort. “It wasn’t that bad.”
He sputters, squinted eyes peeking out from under the crook of his elbow to fix you with an affronted look.
“Oh, it wasn’t?” he quips with a wavering, slightly hoarse voice. I’m sorry, were you the one being tickled within an inch of your life?
You roll your eyes and fix him with a dismissive look of your own in return. “Please, it was, like, two seconds.”
He scoffs, shakes his head, running a palm over his face. He sits up a little, righting himself in his seat, still grinning stupidly and failing to suppress it.
“It was an eternity, actually,” he insists, all sass. He’s back to tipping the pointed end of his beer bottle at you, punctuating his point. It’s a wonder he managed not to drop the thing through the entire ordeal.
“Mm, was it? Oh, wow,” you mutter through a grin, and take another sip of your drink.
His brow scrunches. He leans to get a look at you. “What? What’s ‘wow’ mean?”
You shrug. “Nothing. Just can’t believe you were tickled for a whole eternity and it never once occurred to you to, like…” You flick your eyes to the row of empty stools to his right “... move.”
His eyes widen and his head whips to the side.
Oh. Okay, yeah, he totally, very easily could’ve shifted over, out of your reach. Fuck.
His face flushes red.
He spins back to you, defiant and overly gesticulative. “Well forgive me for not being of sound mind, okay? Maybe I was a little too busy to formulate an escape plan while you were, fuckin’…” he trails off, lifting his elbow and plucking his fingers in the air between his arm and side.
You hold his gaze, brows raised, for a moment, to see if he’ll finish his sentence. And he does not. You chuckle into the lip of your drink. “Hm. Right. Fair enough.”
“Yeah. Yeah, fair enough,” Holland mutters, playing at indignance, swiping a hand through his mussed hair. He brings the beer bottle back to his lips, chin tipped back as he downs the last of it.
You allow yourself a long, slow sip, and swallow, before glancing back his way. “Didn’t occur to you to say ‘stop’, either?”
He sputters into his drink, reddening. Glares at you.
“You had fun,” you declare, holding his gaze, admittedly smug.
He swallows. Scoffs. “You had fun,” he deflects, snarky.
“I did,” you agree, shameless and beaming.
He rolls his eyes, slumps back into his seat. Goes even pinker.
You chuckle softly and sit back in your seat, attention back on your drink, letting the moment cool to a simmer.
After a moment, you glance over—just to check in, just to make sure he’s not combusting under the force of his embarrassment—and find him shaking his head, toying with the now-empty bottle where it rests on the bar, failing to hide the aching fondness on his face. His attention turns, eyes catching yours, and you exchange a twin set of bashful grins.
Another best passes.
You swallow the last of your drink and set the empty glass back on the bar. “So, guess I was wrong before,” you admit.
He looks at you, confused.
“Tickle fight,” you clarify. “Turns out I’d win that one, too.”
His shrill cry slices through the still air of the bar—“God dammit!”—and you tumble into laughter again.
Y’ALL I’D LIKE TO REPORT HOLLAND MARCH HAS BEEN SUFFICIENTLY WRECKED 😌
In other words: Holland fic is done-ish*.
*As in: could be considered done. Cause I could split it into two parts, so I can post what’s done sooner, or wait and post it all at once.
The second part (that’s not done yet) doesn’t have any tickly scenes really so I’d be worried to post it separately—don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up for a tickly sequel and then all they find is Holland being a sulky drunk himbo of a man 💅
HOWEVER I do have a vague idea for a part 3, fully back on board the tickle train 🚂 (spoiler: chaotic ler!Holland revenge!!)
Does anyone have preferences about posting part 1 & 2 together, then revenge fic later, verses part 1 tomorrow, part 2 later on, part 3 later later later??
holy moly guys!!! thank you SO much for all the love on my fics 😭❤️❤️ i'm so happy there's this many people out there that enjoy my writing 🥺 thank yall for reading and for all your kind words it means the world to me ❤️❤️ i hope you guys enjoy this one too! here's some lee rocky!! yayyyy! This is also kind of a sequel to some of my other fics for them too :)
Two of Us
Lee Rocky / Ler Grace
Word Count: 1,990
Grace has a dream of him and Rocky being able to live in the same atmosphere.
Ryland Grace was back on Earth. He didn’t have any memory of when or how he got there, all he knew was that this was definitely Earth. He didn’t have any evidence, it was just something he felt.
Grace was currently sitting on the beach with the ocean in front of him. The sand was warm and soft. He listened to the relaxing sound of the waves rising and crashing as the water stretched out as far as the eye could see. The sky was grey and foggy, just how Grace liked it. He sat there enjoying the view when suddenly, he heard something. He turned to the side to see something in the distance running towards him.
“Rocky?”
“Grace!”
Grace’s heart beat faster at the sight of his Eridian friend. Rocky seemed to speed up as Grace acknowledged him, using all five legs to propel himself as fast as he could at him. The human got up and crouched down to his level, arms out and ready to welcome him. As Rocky came closer, Grace noticed that something was missing. Rocky wasn’t in a ball. In fact, he had no covering on whatsoever.
Before Grace had time to process it, Rocky lunged at him. Grace grunted as the alien tackled him to the sand in a hug, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Ouch. Bad idea to try catching him. Grace weakly croaked out Rocky’s name, signaling him to get off of him.
“Don't worry, I'm fine,” Grace coughed, dusting the sand off himself. “Rocky? How are you here? Where’s your ball?”
“Don’t need anymore.”
Grace raised a brow, “What!? How can you breathe?”
“Figured out how. Not important. I explain later. I can survive in oxygen now!” The Eridian chatted excitedly. He waved his front two arms as he spoke.
Grace was speechless. A surprised “What!?” Was all his mouth could spit out.
“Yes, yes! Is amaze!” Rocky cheered. His voice was strange, he spoke partly in Eridian and partly in the English translation voice Grace had programmed for him. But Grace didn’t have his laptop on him. Nothing added up, but it made sense to Grace in the moment.
“Very! I-I can feel you now!” Grace reached out and gently pet the top of Rocky’s head. “Is this okay?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” Rocky practically purred, leaning into his touch like a needy cat. Rocky felt firm and gritty, yet smooth at the same time. He had edges but they weren’t sharp at all. His skin felt hot, but it was a comfortable warmth. His green patches sparkled and shined in the light. Grace couldn’t help but stare in admiration.
“You’re so beautiful,” Grace didn’t mean to say that out loud, but he also didn’t feel embarrassed saying it either. His eyes fell upon the two intertwined green circles on the middle of Rocky’s front left leg. It was sleek and glossy like polished marble. “What’s this? Does this have a meaning?” He asked.
“Yes! Yes!” Rocky nodded quickly, elated that Grace asked and he had a chance to explain it. “For Adrian and Rocky. To honor mate,” he pointed at each circle.
Grace’s eyes widened as a smile slowly spread across his face. “For Adrian? You guys have little wedding rings? That’s adorable!” He gushed.
“No understand.”
“It’s uh, a human thing. You wear matching rings with your mate, to show that you’re together,” Grace explained.
“Ohhh. Yes, yes. Like that,” Rocky agreed.
“That’s too cute.” Grace impulsively grabbed Rocky’s front two hands and waved them up and down in a dance. He laughed as Rocky followed his movements and bounced along. The Eridian let out a squeaky chuckle in excitement.
“You’re way lighter than I thought you would be. No offense,” Grace commented. Rocky was supposed to weigh almost four hundred pounds, yet right now he was as heavy as a small boulder or so.
“I fix that too,” Rocky answered.
The science teacher was amazed yet again. “Wow, you’re incredible.”
“Yes, yes. Grace incredible too.”
The human giggled and shoveled Rocky into his chest for another hug. The Eridian let out a series of happy chirps as he wrapped all of his arms around him. Grace had never felt so loved and comfortable. “I.. I can’t believe I finally get to do this,” he uttered absentmindedly under his breath. He could feel tears forming in his eyes.
Rocky felt a shift and pulled back, “Grace face starting to leak. Is Grace okay, question?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m.. I’m just so happy,” the human sniffled.
“I happy too.” Rocky settled back into him. He rested his body right under Grace’s chin with his claws pressed against Grace’s back. Human skin was so soft and squishy. It was strange, being malleable in some places but also hard and bony in others. It was much different than Eridians’. Rocky’s claws absentmindedly explored Grace’s back as he thought, gently digging into the back of his ribs.
Grace tensed up. “Rohock, you mind uh, stohopping that?” His sudden laughter drew Rocky back into the present.
“Apology,” The Eridian pulled back from the hug.
Dang ticklishness, Grace internally cursed. Wait a second. That raised a question. A question Grace never gave much thought to before. “Hey, Rocky, do you mind if I um, try something real quick?”
“Yes. Proceed. What Grace thinking, question?”
“I just uh, want to test something,” Grace answered vaguely. He slowly reached out, tracing the cracks on Rocky's arm with his finger. The Eridian shuddered under his touch. No way. Grace tried waggling a few fingers into Rocky’s inner arm near the etched lines on his skin. Squeaky-sounding giggles erupted as Rocky’s remaining four legs crumbled beneath him.
Holy fudge.
“You’re ticklish?!” Grace blurted out, unable to decide if his words were a question or a statement.
“What? No. No. No. No.” Rocky stood straight up in alert. His posture then fell as a wave of shyness rushed over him. “…Maybe,” he uttered out meekly.
“Aha! I knew it! You are!” Grace pointed at him. His brain immediately started comparing this to science. In Grace’s mind, he had just completed the hypothesis step of the scientific method. Which meant it was time for the next step: Experiment.
“Oho, Rocky!” Grace called with a smug smile. The Eridian cowered away as his friend sang his name, the plates on the top of his carapace shifting anxiously. The two entered a silent standoff, both posed for action with neither one making a move. Until Rocky decided to act first. His claws kicked up sand as he ran off, scuttling away like a spider.
Grace immediately chased after him. But five legs were much more effective than two, giving the Eridian a large advantage. Until he tripped over himself and rolled in the sand.
“Got ya!” Grace grabbed Rocky making him shriek. The human wasted no time testing his experiment, scribbling fingers all over Rocky’s appendages and carapace. A melody of frantic and angry musical notes combined with high-pitched laughter filled the air. He let out a string of Eridian curses that Grace didn’t understand. Grace snickered along as Rocky’s limbs flew around wildly. He had a surprisingly cute laugh for being a faceless, living rock.
“I had no idea you were so ticklish, Rocky! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Grace grinned, zeroing in on the sides of the Eridian’s carapace. It proved to be very effective. Rocky weakly swatted at Grace making him chuckle. “Tickle-tickle-tickle,” he cooed. You could hear the smile in his voice.
“Stohohop talk! Mahake worse!” Rocky tried to demand. But it’s hard to sound demeaning when you’re squealing like a guiena pig. If he had cheeks he would be blushing.
“Why? Are you embarrassed? Are all Eridians this ticklish, or is it just you?” Grace didn’t hold back. Once Rocky found out what tickling was on the ship, he wouldn’t let Grace live it down. Now it was finally time for his revenge. He stuck a hand under one of Rocky’s arms and tried there. Rocky’s reaction was instant. His music notes and squeaky laughter increased in volume, all sets of claws trying to sprawl out and push Grace away at the same time.
Grace’s face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. “Oh, did I find a tickle spot?” He was teasing, but the excitement in his voice was too genuine to sound fully mocking. It was cute seeing Rocky in this state. He could be so bossy, it felt good being able to take him down a peg. And he was learning more about Eridians and his best pal at the same time! What could be better than that?
“Stohohop! Tooho-Too muhuch!” Rocky finally cried out in defeat. Guess it really was a bad spot for him. He raised an arm in surrender.
Grace stopped as told. Rocky froze on the floor, like he was sleeping. “Uh, you okay, buddy?” Grace asked. Whoops. Did he go too far, or was Rocky just being dramatic?
“…Evil human,” the Eridian muttered to himself.
Okay. Just being dramatic.
"Evil? You tickle me all the time!" Grace pointed out.
"Yes, but,” Rocky tried to think of a response to counter him with, "Is more fun when Rocky tickle Grace instead!" He pointed at Grace for emphasis.
"Well yeah, duh! Of course! You’re the one doing the tickling!" Grace put his hands on his hips. Six years of enduring grueling classwork and exams to get a PHD yet where did it get him now? Arguing with a rock alien about tickling.
Rocky turned to him. "Wait. Grace think it more fun when Rocky tickle Grace, question?”
Huh? The science teacher froze up. How the heck did he get to that conclusion?! “What, no, that’s very much not what I meant,” Grace stammered out. But it was too late. Rocky had already taken off in a five-legged-sprint after him, hungry for revenge. Grace took off running in the opposite direction, laughing as he did so. The waves continued rising and falling and the sun kept shining through the fog as the two chased each other.
——
Grace opened his eyes. He was suddenly transported somewhere else. Somewhere dark. What? What happened? Where was he?
“You awake, question?” A familiar voice spoke up. Grace turned to see his friend speaking to him from behind the xenonite wall they built together.
“Rocky?”
“Hi, Grace.”
Fudge. It was all a dream, none of that was real. Grace was still light years away from his home, stuck in a spaceship. He wasn't physically able to hug or even touch his only companion. Disappointment and sadness quickly rushed over him.
“Is Grace okay, question?” Rocky asked, concern in his tone. He could hear Grace’s quiet sighing.
“Yeah, sorry. Just uh, had a weird dream.” Not true, but it was easier to explain it this way.
“Go sleep again. I watch and protect Grace while he sleep. Grace is safe, statement.”
Grace's smile lit up the dark. “Thanks, buddy." He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, trying to settle back in. He might not be back on Earth, and they hadn’t figured out a way to physically touch yet, but at least Rocky was here. That’s all Grace needed.
——
The two were working together the next day when Grace decided to bring up the question that was stuck in his head for the past six hours. “So uh, Rocky. I have something I've been meaning to ask you,” he started.
Rocky stopped and turned to him. “Yes?”
“So, you know how humans are ticklish, right? But, what about Eridians? Like for example, are you ticklish?” Grace asked.
Rocky went still, “staring” blankly at him. “Not important,” he said before turning back to his work.
Grace chuckled at his reaction. “So, is that a yes?”
hii!! omg your writing is genuinely so SO good dude ive been obsessed with your writing soso much especially your ryland grace fics. ive never had a fic have me so ouuhfgff rolling around ever theyre so well written and fully feed my mind thank you soso much for posting them hehe
would you ever consider doing a holland march x reader fic? oufufg i have so many ideas with him hes such a good lee and evil ler i love him so much
anon, are you living in my brain by any chance??????? i've been brainstorming for holland march this whole past week!!! he's so babygirl i love him so much my loseeerrrr #myloser<33
and aaaahhhh!!! AAAHHHH!!!!!! thank you, you're so sweet!! this is great to hear, actually, because my goal with these fics is exactly that: to have folks who read them roll around and have a mini (or not so mini) freak out hehehe!!!
synopsis: you were in a bad mood. ryland and rocky do their best in hopes of making you feel better. they’ll do anything to turn that frown upside down.
warnings: tickle fic—swearing. back tickles masked as a massage. ler!ryland grace. very slight ler!rocky. no use of y/n. few mentions of they/them pronouns. you’re lowkey a dick towards ryland and rocky but all is well.
author’s note: i was so mad earlier today i wrote this to cope. it’s just one fic after another, i’m on a roll. now if only i can focus on chapter three…
word count: 3.2k
You were in a bad mood. It wasn’t anything Ryland or Rocky did to make you that way. At least not them specifically. You had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed and every little minor inconvenience was building up like a bomb inside of you.
Perhaps it was the stress of trying to figure out why the ship’s spin drives were acting up, leading to them being stuck in the middle of their journey towards Tau Ceti-E. You had gone out multiple times to survey the ship’s exterior, examining every little spin drive connected to the thrusts. You silently cursed Dimitri for making a thousand and nine spin drives. This was the same as counting every blade of grass on a lawn.
Nothing was visibly wrong with them, it had to be an internal mechanical issue then. Maybe it was shut down for a system update or something?
With this present issue making you wrack your brain for solutions, Ryland and Rocky’s duo idiocy made it hard to stay focused. You could hear their bantering every time you walked through the lab, their stupid little tangents about time dilation and relativity were getting mixed up in your head.
Rocky had accidentally bumped into you at one point with his ball while you were writing down notes and equations on the white board, causing you to streak a line through some of it. Rocky hadn’t seemed to notice his little mishap until he was sent rolling across the lab by a sudden kick from you.
He called out your name in a panic, confused by what had happened but you were already stomping out of the room. Ryland wasn’t safe from your foul attitude either. He was slurping up a cup of ramen while walking down the corridor and you just happened to be right around the corner when you collided.
“Oh shoot! Sorry— I didn’t see you there,” he swiftly apologized.
Ramen broth had spilled on the front of your jumpsuit and your face twisted in a scowl. “Fucking hell,” you spat, trying to wipe off the stain.
You shoved past Ryland, knocking shoulders and he watched you retreat in bewilderment. He’d never seen you act like that before. Sure you could get a bit snippy here and there, especially when you hadn’t eaten all day, but that was a bit over the top. He soon found Rocky still stuck upside down in his ball when he entered the lab and realized he wasn’t the only victim of your strange behavior. The two came to the conclusion that you were in a very bad mood today.
“Need do something. Need talk,” Rocky said, stomping one of his legs.
“I’m not sure talking is the right solution here, buddy. It could end very badly,” Ryland replied. His hands wrung themselves in a nervous habit, pulling at the joints as he tried to think of ways to clear the misunderstanding.
“Well, what happened, not nice.”
Rocky seemed rather upset about being treated poorly like some elder mad at the young generation for being disrespectful. It was a little funny how adamant he was about it but Ryland agreed that you needed a way to blow off some steam before you blew up and everything else on the ship.
“I know, I know. But I think we need to go with a different approach. Find a way to help them relieve some stress,” Ryland explained. “They’re working very hard to try and fix the ship’s issue, we should offer some help of our own.”
Rocky hummed in thought, his head tilted down slightly. “Relieve stress. Make happy? Question.”
Ryland nodded. “It is beneficial for humans to find ways to cope and relieve stress. Or else it could affect their mental psyche and even lead to bodily injury.” That made Rocky less mad about the recent incident and more worried about your wellbeing.
The two began to concoct a plan in order to help you feel better and turn that foul mood around. It wasn’t easy. Ryland was a simple guy and was happy with almost anything, while Rocky still struggled to understand human emotions and why they were so finicky.
So they decided to work their way up.
Plan A: a compliment.
“I like your shirt.” Ryland pointed out the new clothing you branded after changing out of the ramen stained jumpsuit.
You just gave him a sideways glance. “Had to change because of someone.”
His smile dropped. Awkward. “Oh. Right.”
Plan Failed.
Plan B: a present made with love.
Rocky slowly rolled himself over to you at the table, being careful this time not to run into you.
“Rocky have gift.”
You looked up from the laptop, raising an eyebrow at the Eridian. He shifted from leg to leg nervously before pushing forward a medium sized model made of xenonite. You leaned down to pick it up. It was a model of the Hail Mary, very detail-oriented with almost all of its exteriors crafted to a t.
You were impressed to say the least. “Thanks, Rocky.” You turned the ship around and examined all its parts. And then you stopped to stare at the engines where the spin drives were. Rocky managed to even capture every little detail of the spin drives. This would’ve made any lego or diorama nerd ecstatic. But for you—you just got pissed off by the reminder that you still had no idea what was wrong with them.
You slammed the model on the table and went back to aggressively typing on the computer. Rocky flinched at the loud clatter, his legs trembling as he rolled out of the room.
Plan Failed.
Plan C: a little bit of pampering and special treatment.
You were sitting on the pulled out bunk with a bag of Milano cookies between your legs. You were just staring at the wall in thought while munching on the cookies one after another.
The sound of footsteps and the rumbling of Rocky’s ball entered the dormitory. You didn’t bother to look over at them.
“We brought more snacks.”
“Have special treatment!”
They crowded around you on the cot, a pile of chips and candies dropped on the padded flooring. Ryland stood behind you while Rocky rolled back and forth in front of your dangling legs.
“We decided to offer you a little massage, y’know, to help you relax,” Ryland said, rubbing his hands together.
“Rest legs on Rocky ball,” the Eridian jigged up and down cheerily and you wondered if he was that excited to be used as a foot stool.
You felt Ryland’s hands clamp over your shoulders and his thumbs began pressing between your shoulder blades. Rocky situated himself underneath your legs, but he was quite bad at staying still. The octagonal shape of his xenonite ball rolled against the muscles of your legs like one of those foam rollers.
“Does it feel good? Is it relaxing?”
“Rocky ball feel good? Question.”
God these two never knew when to shut up. You sighed quietly, attempting to tune them out. The massage wasn’t too bad, Ryland surprisingly knew all the right spots to press. His thumbs shifted a little high, digging into the base of your neck.
You tensed. Ryland took that as a sign for muscle tightness and rubbed deeper into the tissue. Shit. It tickled. Rocky’s ball even nudged against the back of your knees and you jerked them up out of reflex. No way, you were not going through with this.
You pushed yourself off the bed and stumbled away. “I just remembered something—thanks for the massage.”
Ryland watched as you scurried out of the dormitory, eyeing the way you cupped a hand over the back of your neck. Rocky seemed to deflate at your escape, dropping to his knees as he whined.
“No work.”
“I guess not.”
Plan Failed(?).
You sat in the pilot's chair in the cockpit and stared at the multitude of screens around you. The answer to your problem had to be here. Though, if you were honest, that wasn’t the only problem you were facing. Ryland and Rocky were acting very weird, like more weird than usual. Maybe they thought you were mad at them and were trying to make it up to you. Which wasn’t the case at all. You weren’t mad at them.
But thinking back, you realized you weren’t exactly the nicest towards them. You had kicked Rocky and shoved Ryland after they had both bumped into you by accident. You knew they didn’t mean it. You were just so frustrated with the ship that you let your emotions cloud your judgement.
Cupping your hands over your face you finally understood how rude you had been. You acted like such an asshole all because you couldn’t keep yourself in check. God, you had to apologize before you ruined your only source of friendship in this vacuum of space.
As you chewed on your finger contemplating how to approach them, a timid voice called out your name. You spun around in the pilot’s chair.
Ryland stood at the entrance of the cockpit, bracing against the edge of it. “Hey, can we talk?”
Your stomach plummeted. “Oh—um, sure, I guess.” Fuck you were not ready for this. You hated to admit it but you were bad at confrontation, especially admitting when you were wrong. But so was Ryland, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
Ryland walked closer and you saw Rocky behind his legs, crawling cautiously. He stopped about a foot away and you fidgeted in the chair.
“I— we, noticed you’ve been really stressed out about the whole spin drive thing and we realized we haven’t really been much help. We’re sorry. If there’s anything you need us to do, please tell us. Even if it’s something small, anything to lift the weight off your shoulders,” Ryland spoke softly, gesturing to both him and Rocky.
The Eridian nodded in agreement. “Rocky help. Need make friend happy, less stressed, else bad things.”
Oh. They were worried about you. And here you were acting like a complete piece of shit because you couldn’t ask for help. You lowered your head in shame. “You don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations on you.” You scrubbed your hands over your face. “I acted like a total dick because I wanted to solve the problem myself and not drag you into it.”
A pair of hands wrapped around your wrists and pulled yours away from your face. You felt a gentle pat on your knee and looked up. “Don’t be silly. We know you didn’t mean it. We’re glad you at least recognized your faults as we did ours. That’s all that matters. We can work out the problem together.” Ryland flashed you an empathetic smile, his expression soft and full of understanding.
Your eyes flickered between Ryland and Rocky before letting out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, thanks. I’m sorry about earlier,” you murmured. “I’ll make it up to you guys.”
Ryland and Rocky looked back at each other then faced back at you. “How about we just continue that massage. You really look like you need it.” You swallowed. You didn’t want to turn them down but…
“Uh— okay.” If making it up to them meant kissing your dignity goodbye, then so be it.
All three of you headed back to the dormitory. Your bed was made and prepped prior, the snacks still stationed on the floor. Ryland gestured for you to lie down. You hesitated. You can do this. You took a deep breath, and then laid face down. You curled your arms around the pillow, propping your chin up.
“You really don’t have to. I swear I’m feeling better,” you said as a last ditch effort to avoid future embarrassment.
Ryland waved a hand in dismissal and climbed on top of you, sitting on the back of your thighs. “Massages are the best way to relieve tension both in your mind and body. Just let us do all the work and you just lay there.”
“Yes, Rocky give best massage!” You saw Rocky out of your peripheral standing next to your legs.
“Okay…”
You braced yourself, squeezing the pillow tight as you pressed your face into it. Ryland hands went to work, kneading and rubbing along your shoulder blades. It would’ve felt great, had it not tickled unbearably so. You had to hold your breath from the way his thumbs dug into that small part of your lower back. He slowly continued the circling motions upwards, making sure to rub into the spaces between your ribs. Even the gentle prodding at your thigh from Rocky’s claw through his xenonite ball sent ticklish jolts through you.
“You okay?” Ryland’s voice rang in your ears.
“Hm?” You managed to mumble out without your voice cracking.
“You’re pretty tense. Does it hurt?” His fingers lightened the pressure and you’re not sure if that made it better or worse.
“Um—on second thought, I don’t think it’s working. Let’s stop hERE—!” A squeal ripped from your throat at the sudden fingers digging into your sides. “WAhait!!”
Ryland had the biggest grin on his face as he watched you flop around. “I knew it. This is why you ran away so fast earlier. You’re ticklish.”
Your face burned red. “N-not truhue!”
“Oh really? Then I guess you won’t mind if I continue.”
“Nonono don’t you dare— GRAHACE!!”
You flailed helplessly under his weight as he resumed his attack. His hands clawed up down your torso, his thumbs pressing deep into the bottom of your ribs while the rest of his fingers dug into your sides. You twisted and tried to push yourself up but Ryland was too heavy for you to be able to buck off.
“Grace? Man, you’re still grumpy. It’s okay, we can fix that.” You could practically hear that shiteating grin of his.
Every time you lifted off the mattress, his hands would sneak to your stomach, scribble along the plush skin around your waist and you would drop right back down. He even tugged the back of your shirt up and would skitter his nails from your hips all the way to your armpits.
You squealed and cackled and wailed, making the most inhumane noises Ryland had ever heard. “If anyone heard you they’d think there was some kind of space monster wrecking havoc on the galaxy.”
“Friend sound like thing that eat Eridians,” Rocky’s voice chimed in through your laughter. You had forgotten about him for a second.
“ROHockyhy!! H-hehelp!” You pleaded, twisting on the bed.
“Yeah, buddy, you should help. The legs and feet are good tickle spots on people too. Just watch.” Ryland demonstrated it by reaching behind him and rapidly squeezing along the back of your thigh. You screeched, almost kicking him in the face when he scratched at the back of your knees.
Rocky chirped excitedly at the newfound information. “Rocky tickle!”
“Rohocky nOho!”
“Rocky yes!” Ryland laughed. He turned around to hold down your legs for Rocky to get a chance at tickling you, pinning your ankles against the mattress.
Rocky couldn’t do much but gently wiggle his claws through the xenonite barrier against your sole. It didn’t tickle that much but the featherlight touch was enough to make you giggle into the pillow, your toes scrunching up. It only lasted a couple seconds before Ryland decided to tickle the back of your knees causing you to shriek.
“GRACE!”
“What? I’m helping.”
“Stohop hehelpihing!”
Ryland gasped. “You don’t want me to help? That’s not very nice! And here I am trying my very best to make sure you’re relaxed and at ease!” Despite the fact he was doing the complete opposite.
“Ihi don’t nehehed ihit!!” You barked out through gritted teeth.
You heard him click his tongue and the tickling on your legs stopped. You wheezed in relief, panting heavily to catch your breath. And then you felt the shift of weight back on your thighs, large hands settling flat on your back. Fuck, fuck, shit.
“N-no, no, wait— Ryland—Ry, cmon! I-I’m relaxed! Please!” You begged, clawing at the mattress desperately. Sadly for you, your pleading words went straight over his head.
His thumbs rubbed deep circles on both sides of your spine, just below your shoulder blades. His other fingers curled into the spaces between your ribs, alternating between massaging and wiggling. You just about lost it. Loud, hysterical cackles resonated from your lungs at the electrifying tissue massage that set your nerves on fire. You couldn’t think about anything else but how badly it tickled.
What felt like an hour was only a two minutes of pure tickle torture. You couldn’t move, your whole body went rigid, stuck in a perpetual state of silent laughter. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open with no sound coming out.
Eventually Ryland gave mercy and lightened his touch. The pads of his fingers now tracing small circles over your sides. You almost forgot how to breathe when you gasped for air, greedily gulping it down.
“What do we say now?” His voice murmured right into your ear.
You snickered and scrunched your shoulder. “Ihi’m sohorryyy…!”
He chuckled in response. “And?” He lightly dug his thumb into your back.
“THAhank yohou!!” You squealed.
The tickling stopped and you finally—finallyyy were given relief. Your nerves buzzed from the aftermath, tingling and trembling at the phantom tickles. You giggled tiredly, face squished against the mattress. You didn’t even notice your pillow had fallen off the edge of the cot.
“Feeling better?” Ryland asked, his tone softer and genuine.
You nodded, still giggling. He laughed at your delirious state and helped roll you over onto your back. You couldn’t stop the smile permanently stretched across your face and swung an arm to hide your flushed expression.
“That was ahawful…” You breathed out.
“You say that, but I know you enjoyed yourself. You needed that laugh.”
You peeked beneath your arm to see Ryland’s dazzling smile, his eyes filled with so much warmth you couldn’t help but feel shy from his attention. Your hands flew down to your face, feeling the heat radiate off your cheeks. “… it helped.”
“Humans done playing? Question. Rocky fix ship.”
Ryland and you looked up at Rocky now standing by the hatch of the dormitory. You lifted your head, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What do you mean?”
“Rocky fix spin drives. Statement. Works.”
You nearly shoved Ryland off of you as you sat up fully. “What?! How?!”
Rocky shimmied in his ball and straightened his legs like he was showing off. “Rocky read manual!”
You just stared at him. He squeaked happily before rolling away. Ryland and you looked at each other. You flopped back down on the mattress with a groan, pulling down at your face.
“A rock figured it out before me.” You glanced up at Ryland. “… sorry again.” Now you felt worse about how you acted when there was such a simple solution.
Ryland huffed. “You’ve already been forgiven. Don’t get all depresso on me.” He tweaked your side with a pinch and you let out your own little squeak, swatting at his hand. He grinned. “Besides, now I know exactly what to do to turn that frown upside down.”
A blush rose to your cheeks and you shoved weakly at his chest. “You’re never letting me live this down.”
You think that was an attitude adjustment? Oh no, wow sorry yeah ,that was actually attitude affirming. If that’s the consequences of my actions I will continue to be on my worst behavior.
ALSO if anyone has any tickly Holland March fic prompts/requests hit me UP!!! I can’t make any promises on fulfilling them but I’d like to write something I just need ideas!
Synopsis: Reader struggles to maintain their hope on their journey aboard the Hail Mary but gradually learns what it means to come back to life and to laugh again.
Pairings: Ryland Grace x reader insert (no pronouns used)
Warnings: mentions of suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, depression, weight loss from malnutrition, and some tickling.
Word count: 12.3k
A/n: This is a bit darker than what I normally post so if this one isn’t for you I totally understand. If you do decide to read though I hope this can be a bit of light in your chest that you take with you.
Space was a vast, unforgivable, beautiful thing. At times, you marveled at its beauty and other times you fought down the urge to scream. When you had the energy, you felt angry at the every passing star and galaxy for reminding you of the slow passage of time, suspended in the darkness with your small food supply dwindling away.
Despite the vastness, you were never lonely. The three of you were, by all accounts, alone, but you felt closer to Ryland and Rocky than you ever had with anyone back on Earth. Still, small things began to disappear just as your supplies did. The jokes started to get fewer and farther in between, and the play fighting disappeared underneath your noses. The experiments that had been used to keep you busy on your long journey had come to a halt. The separation between the three sections on the Hail Mary started to become inconsequential, your bodies losing the energy to move between spaces. Ryland and you started to shrink, not quite withering away, but not all the way there either. Your skin started to turn a sickly shade and the muscles on Ryland’s arms faded over time, leaving weakness where strong bones had once been.
Rocky became your caretaker and, at times, you wondered if you’d have flashbacks of this moment when you were older and it really was the end. On your darker days, you wondered if you’d ever get to see that end.
Rocky fed the both of you the comma slurry and then eventually the Taumoeba every morning and evening. The three of you were always together, usually cozied up on one of the beds, curled around each other to preserve body heat. It was horribly sad if you thought about it for too long, you’re two mischievous quippy boys turning silent for sometimes hours at a time, if not nearly whole days. You didn’t think about it that much though. With your limited food, your body had started to work itself into its own type of coma. You and Ryland did little more than sleep, and when you were awake your brain felt bogged down by mush, like someone had tied rocks onto all of your thoughts and threw them in the ocean.
When your brain was lighter though, you missed the person you’d used to be. You missed the way a smile felt on your face, and the way you used to steal Ryland’s equipment to get a reaction out of him, you missed your intelligent mind and your quick reflexes and the way you used to pepper Rocky with questions about the cultures and psychology of the Eridian people.
You lasted so long in the darkness, but there was a time near the end of your travels where you started to lose yourself entirely. You were only a few months from Erid, practically in the same solar system when it started to all feel pointless, where the gun that Yáo had left had started to seem enticing. At first you didn’t tell anyone about it, until one day Rocky started to have to spoon feed you your Taumoeba portion for the day and with trembling hands you told him that you didn’t know if you could make it. He listened to you as you cried, then sobbed, and then grew too tired to talk at all. He helped you change your clothes and brush your teeth, and gently scratched your scalp as he washed your hair for you.
“Promise Rocky you try to make it,” he insisted as he brushed out your hair for you.
Your eyes were stuck on the stark white of the metal hull. It all seemed so dull, so lifeless to you. “I don’t know if I can, Rock.”
Rocky gently untangled a knot that you’d left in your hair for days, but his voice was strong. “Promise Rocky you try. Rocky cannot watch another friend die.”
At this, you seemed to sober. You finally remembered Ryland in the room beside you two, fast asleep, and no idea that this conversation was happening. You were grateful for that small mercy at least, you didn’t think you could bear to tell him any of this. He would break against the news, like a boat against the tide. A thought occurred to you then, appearing between hazy visions of the end, that by leaving this world, you might make Ryland and Rocky’s worlds unlivable too.
Rocky placed one of his arms on top of your heart. “Rocky will save. You try? Question?”
You looked over at Rocky, the one who was single handedly keeping you and your human companion alive and found that you couldn’t say no. You didn’t know for certain that you would make it but for the time being you couldn’t stomach the thought of giving Rocky one more dead body to live with. You nodded and weakly replied in a horse voice that you would try.
Promptly after, all items that could cause any harm to you were put out of sight. You weren’t sure if you just couldn’t find them or if Rocky had tossed them out the airlock, but either way, you knew the move was intentional. While Rocky couldn’t do much to improve most of your condition, he began to do additional things for you. He played with your hair so you could sleep peacefully. He placed Ryland on top of your body so that you could have some form of stimulation without either of you having to waste your energy. He gave you little puzzles, things that were really meant for children, but were a struggle to your malnourished mind. He said it was to keep your brain busy, but you guessed it was to fend off the darkness that was growing inside of you.
You made good on your promise, and you tried despite how hard it was.
With a month left, you decided you were going to make it, using one last final push of your mental strength to make it to Erid. However, even after the Hail Mary was back on soil again, conditions didn’t improve all that much at first. The Eridians had to keep you inside the ship for quite some time, making sure that the environment that they were going to put you in was just right.
Ryland and you were still weak, your bodies just barely alive from the nutrition the Taumoeba provided you, but you helped with the experiments where you could, providing the scientists with your Earthly knowledge when you were alert enough to do so. With you and Ryland out of commission most of the time though, Rocky was the one who really managed the most. He visited with you and Ryland whenever he wasn’t eating or working. Despite the fact that he had a home, a mate at that, he only slept with the two of you watching over him.
Adrian came to see the three of you as often as they could. They were quiet, much less talkative than Rocky, and at first you had mistaken it for malcontent, but when they kept showing up you began to see it for what it was- caution.
You couldn’t blame them, not with Rocky being gone for so many years and your presence keeping him mentally elsewhere now, but Adrian kept visiting you all the same. They never usually said much but their presence became a steady companion on the ship.
As time moved forward you began to become more at ease with their quiet, and they in turn, started to share more of their inner world with you.
The first day that you were out of the Hail Mary, you collapsed with relief onto the sand and rolled around until you were sure you would be dumping sand out of your pockets for days. You ran across the grassy area and screamed and then promptly had to lie back down, too out of breath to continue on.
They implemented an ocean a week later and you and Ryland tested out the water. You held hands as you gradually stepped out into the ocean, and waited for the water to meet you on the shoreline. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you back on earth, aboard Stratt’s vat once more. Of course, you weren’t alone. A dozen scientists stood behind you, carefully watching you to make sure you didn’t have any sort of adverse effects to the water.
Afterall, they had gone through a great deal trying to keep their two humans alive, so everything in the biodome was carefully monitored. At times, it was easy to feel like you were on an episode of the Truman show, but all of that was forgotten for a moment as you curled your toes into the wet sand.
When the ocean came in and placed a soft kiss across the top of your shin, it felt more real than anything had in a long while. You closed your eyes and listened to the peaceful wooshing sound of another wave coming back in. The scientists were still hard at work trying to figure out the optimal amount of sunlight for your dopamine production and circadian rhythms, but at that moment you felt okay. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you knew what you were fighting for, and it seemed like it was all worth it.
As you and Ryland began to settle into your new home, the scientists were hard at work trying to improve your quality of life. The thrum had met and the best minds were all tasked with attempting to get the two of you to not only survive but to thrive on their planet. You were each given a team that you interacted with on a daily basis. You were given nutrition pills and daily routines, and though you resisted them at first, saying that there was no point, all Ryland had to do was to send you a pleading look and you caved.
Despite the fact that you still hadn’t told him about the scary moment on the ship all of those months ago, he always seemed to know, so you begrudgingly took your pills and went on your walks.
The Erids figured out the sun cycle, and found a way to plant you a garden. They brought you to it one day, and for the first time in years, you found yourself in front of a tree. It was small, shorter than you and for a moment you wondered if it was real, or if it was like the blue sky above you, only showing you what you wanted to see.
You reached out and touched a leaf, and found the smooth crisp edge of a living plant. You felt each of the lines across the short green leaves and traced them with your fingertips. You barely managed to choke out a thank you before you fell into tears.
After that moment, you took your medication, and went on your daily walks without comment. Rocky and Adrian were given suits like the ones that Rocky had used on the Hail Mary, and they visited you often, even setting up a house of their own on the beach. Though you were quiet for most days, you enjoyed their soothing company.
Erid’s scientists had made new developments on your food, and Ryland had started to cook again. You noticed him humming to himself one evening, munching on some chips as he grilled burgers. After you had finished eating, you felt full, and your chest felt warmer.
Time began to pass quicker, much faster than it had on the ship. You were given brighter clothes and you started to wear them occasionally. Rocky and Adrian established movie nights, and Ryland dragged you to each of them.
One night, on one of your evening walks on the beach, the setting sun had aligned itself with the tiny buoys that the Erid’s had set up for ‘swim safety’. You looked at it for a moment, almost mistaking it for a ship because it was so far out. At that thought, you let out a loud laugh. It was a short note, just a little one, but the sound flowed through the beach, like a bird call. Your brows furrowed and you stared at the sun, realizing that your laughter was still inside of you.
If you could still do that, then surely your joy was still there as well.
The next week, Ryland didn’t have to drag you to movie night.
He had started to meet with Rocky and the science team, and you had started to go with them. He was quickly pointed towards the school system, but you were given a special suit to enter the Eridian labs.
Your work began to feel interesting once more, and you stopped dreading the feeling of waking up in the morning. You had started to enjoy your coworkers, gradually even learning a few Eridian words at a time. You traded your words like children exchanging candy, and then you and Ryland spoke about them late at night while he was prepping his lesson plans.
One night, you caught yourself staring at him as he graded papers, transfixed by the way his muscles twitched as his hand scribbled across the pages. Suddenly, his muscles were back, and there was fat on his stomach, and you saw him smile at you multiple times a day. You knew it hadn’t really been sudden, but you felt as though you were truly taking him in for the first time in a long while.
You looked in the mirror, the only one that you had in your house, and realized you were the same. Your muscles had grown back in, your skin was no longer sickly, and your ribcage wasn’t visible anymore. You looked healthy and you felt strong.
For a moment, you caught Ryland’s eyes in the mirror and he quickly looked away, stifling his smile, and acting like he had been looking down at his notes the whole time.
“You look better too,” you murmured, not quite having the nerve to turn around and face him.
He looked at you through the mirror again. “I know, it’s just good to recognize your face again.”
You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out, so you let the moment pass.
Ryland’s cooking was the cause of most of it. No matter how bad of a mood you were in, you couldn’t resist his food, and you started to make a habit of keeping him company while he made you both dinner. You talked about work and your Earth memories, and the passing of the seasons, but you mostly talked about how the both of you were doing.
One night he made pancakes, and as he babbled onto you about something that had happened at school, you got an idea. It burst into your mind with color and urgency and you sneakily grabbed the chocolate chips from the counter when his back had been turned.
He spun around and frowned, picking up the container of flour to make sure that it hadn’t snuck under it somehow.
You watched as he opened cabinets and pulled out drawers, and you grabbed a handful to snack on as you watched your show. Unfortunately, your bite was a little loud and Ryland immediately caught you in the act.
He folded his arms across his chest. “I should’ve known it was you.”
You shrugged, but didn’t give it back just yet. “Its been awhile,” you said, and it came out softer than you’d meant it to.
Ryland sighed and dropped his arms. “Too long, some might say,” he answered, as if you didn’t have to explain yourself at all.
You had started to do things without someone having to drag it out of you, and your scientists seemed to watch you from a little further away. You started to dance in the living room of your small cottage, and only got caught by Ryland once. You tended to your garden and you loved your job and you always made time for Rocky and Adrian.
As if on que, everyone around you had started to bloom, like they had just been waiting on you to catch up. Rocky and Ryland’s conversations grew more animated, and soon your house was covered with trinkets that the little Erids had given you, or as Ryland liked to call them, ‘his pebbles’.
One morning you woke up to find Ryland making bacon and eggs. You yawned and stretched in the doorway and he immediately noticed your presence.
“Want some?” he asks, pointing to the pan with a spatula.
You nodded and stepped into the kitchen with a skip in your step. “Yes, please.”
You sat and watched him make it, taking in the careful way that he flipped the eggs so the yolk didn’t break.
He handed you a plate, and you sunk into one of the seats at the little island in the middle of your kitchen. “Did you like my gift?”
You frowned for a moment, looking over at him to find him wryly eyeing you from over the top of his glasses.
“What?”
His eyes flicked down at your plate, and you followed his gaze towards the perfectly arranged smiley face that he’d made out of your two eggs and a piece of bacon.
You snorted and rolled your eyes. “You are such a dork,” you murmured, grabbing a piece of toast to dig in your eggs.
He narrowed his eyes at you, his gaze more intense. “Really? Cause I’m pretty sure I just got a laugh out of you.”
You shook your head, instead choosing to shovel your food into your mouth rather than face him.
Ryland spun his chair around, fully placing all of his attention firmly on you. “Are you sure? I swear I heard a snort.”
Your eyes flitted towards him and even that millisecond nearly made you melt into the floor. The way he looked at you with such a caring look in his eyes but that little mischievous smirk made you feel both too loved and too preciously vulnerable. You felt your face heat up and you suddenly felt like you knew what was coming next. A prickling sense of foreshadowing threatened to swallow you whole, but you pushed the feeling away. “Nope. Just rolled my eyes.”
“Right,” Ryland said, his voice rising in pitch, but only moving closer towards you.
Suddenly, your mind was filled with visions of a Ryland and you from long ago, ones where he would’ve picked you up and dug his fingers into your sides. Memories of raspberries blown on the sensitive skin of your neck and fingernails scratching across your stomach flooded your senses. It hit you like that first wave had a few months ago, and it made you want to crawl into the great depths of the cool beyond. The feeling had been gone for so long that you had nearly forgotten about it, but here you were, already a little breathless. Though Ryland was only looking at you, it almost felt like his hands were already there, climbing up your sides and the thought made shivers cascade down your spine and tingles crawl up your neck. You almost instinctively moved your arms to cover your stomach, but no one was there for you to defend against. A sense of want, perhaps even need filled you, and you realized that you missed the feeling. You wanted him closer, and your giggles to fill up the small cottage.
“I didn’t laugh,” you forced out, barely managing to keep eye contact as you said it. It had been different on the Hail Mary, it was an unspoken thing that when you mouthed off or complained that you were bored, you got tickled. You had told him you didn't mind it at first, and then told him you liked it. You were on a suicide mission, so everything else seem inconsequential, embarrassment and dignity long forgotten. You had thought you were going to die, but here you were, alive and well, and that familiar feeling wrapping around you like a quilted blanket.
Except now, you were alive, and Ryland was looking at you like you were one of his experiments that he didn’t quite have a hypothesis for yet.
“Well, then I guess I’ll just have to find another way to make you laugh.”
He leaned back into his own chair and out of your personal space and you felt the loss of attention immediately. Fighting for anything, you reached out and poked his shoulder.
“Good luck with that,” you remarked, hoping you sounded snarky instead of desperately hopeful.
Ryland looked at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips momentarily twitching, but didn’t otherwise retaliate. You internally searched for a way to keep the moment going, but your mind was drawing blanks, and before you knew it, you were helping him clear the kitchen.
Shortly after, he moved to the little love seat to grade papers, his usual Saturday morning routine, and you disappeared back into your bedroom, cursing yourself for your inaction.
You shut the door behind yourself, and sunk to the floor against it, holding your face in your hands. You groaned and blushed, thinking of the way that he had looked at you and wondered what he’d been thinking. You didn’t know how much he’d thought of those playful moments on the Hail Mary, or if he’d care to repeat them either. You’d changed a lot since the ship had taken off, and he had too, he might not even want to tickle you anymore, and that thought scared you more than anything. You had come back from your darkness, but what if the two of you were too different now?
You debated this thought as you made your bed and opened your windows to let the sea breeze in. You couldn’t bear to sit with your own thoughts so you started to clean your room, which luckily wasn’t as bad as it had been a few months ago. You played music from your computer as you worked, distracting yourself from the storm that was brewing in your brain.
A soft knock came from the door a few hours after you’d taken a break for lunch and you slipped your headphones down onto your neck to open it.
Ryland stood there in his soft jacket that had the little foxes on it. “You want to head over to Rocky and Adrian’s? We’re watching The Barbie movie.”
You placed your headphones on the desk and shut off your computer. “Sure.”
“Wow, and I didn’t even have to drag you along,” Ryland teased.
“You’ve never had to drag me,” you crossed your arms. “That’s a bit dramatic.”
Ryland held up a finger, a silly grin on his face. “No, but I could if I wanted to.
You deadpanned. “You could not.”
He raised his brows and you felt the thing inside of you unfurling and beginning to take root. “Could so.”
“Could not.”
In an instant, Ryland was reaching his hands out towards you and you jumped out of instinct. Unfortunately, your instincts were a little out of tune and he easily grabbed ahold of you, hoisting you up bridal style.
You squeaked and immediately pictured the noise in a different context, one that had you in helpless giggles and pointless squirming.
“Ryland!” you yelled, your heart rate rising and the heat coming back to your face.
Suddenly, you were back on the ground, your feet firmly planted on your stone floors. You looked over at him in confusion but he only shrugged. “Just had to prove a point.”
You tried to keep the disappointment off of your face, but you didn’t have much time to think about it before Rocky was barging into the cottage. “Friends taking forever, humans need Rocky to come get them for everything? Question?”
Ryland chortled. “Rock, we were literally just about to walk out the door.”
Rocky wiggled his carapace and it took you a second to realize he was imitating shaking his head. “Come, come, come, we go watch movie now.”
Ryland and you half walked half ran across the beach to keep up with Rocky, kicking up sand as you went. You turned the corner and saw the familiar farm style house with a large red door.
It opened as if sensing your presence, revealing Adrian standing behind it. They moved out of the hallway to let all of you through, closing the door behind you since you were the last one in. “Did Rocky come get again?”
You opened your mouth but Rocky was faster. “Yes, Adrian. Was taking forever.”
Adrian quietly grumbled something in Eridian that you didn’t know the translation for and you couldn’t help but smile. After everything you’d gone through and all the other things that Ryland had put into that translator, he still hadn’t added curse words.
You heard Rocky and Ryland starting to already get into a very loud conversation so you and Adrian headed down the hall after them.
Their house was wide, open, and tall, but it was never cold. The hallway led to a series of entryways leading to their large staircase, the food storage room, and their living room, though it had a different name in Eridian that you couldn’t quite remember.
Rocky and Adrian were both very uncomfortable walking around on soft surfaces so the floor was mostly composed of stone, with the exception of the conversation pit in the middle of the room. There were no windows, though you could see one off of the entranceway to the room to the left of the tv. Luckily, the lack of light made it work excellently as a media room for your human eyes.
Just under the tv was a color to texture machine that was set to match the above screen frame for frame, so there was no delay between what all of you were seeing through your different senses. Rocky and Ryland were by the fireplace, arguing over something with the connector between the computer and the tv.
“I think it would just work better if you put it-”
“Grace not making sense. Statement. Rocky can only-” he started but a curt buzz from Adrian shut him up.
The boys separated and you and Adrian took your seats. You normally sat in front of them when you had movie nights, not because either of you had planned it that way but because Rocky needed to be behind Ryland so that the two of them could blubber on about the movie without having to lean over anyone else.
You settled in on the right side of the pit, stretching your legs out and rubbing your feet together like a cricket as you cozied up.
You looked over and saw Ryland grinning at you. “Comfortable now?”
You eyed him cautiously, waiting for him to make a joke but the punchline never came. Instead, he opened his arms to you, raising his brows.
You held still for a second. It had been so long since you’d been held, since you’d even let anyone hug you that you were worried you might break upon contact. It hadn’t occurred to you to ask for those things when you were so deep in the darkness. However, your body had betrayed you before you even realized it, leaning in towards him without your permission.
His arms curled around you and pulled you towards him, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder, and moving you so that you were flush against his side, the soft material of his sweatpants brushing against your bare shins.
Your heart immediately started hammering in your chest, and you went as stiff as a board. The movie started to play and you knew you should relax, but you couldn’t get yourself to calm down. You couldn’t remember how much of your weight you were supposed to lean on him or what you were supposed to do with your hands, and you were worried that your hair was getting caught in his beard or the zipper on his sweater.
Ryland’s hand sat across your shoulder, firm and certain and you longed for the certainty behind his touch. You looked over at his hands, and then pictured them sneaking over to the side of your neck, then abruptly looked away.
You heard murmuring beside your ear but you looked over at Ryland to find him staring at you. “What?”
“I asked if you were sore from your swim?”
You frowned, thinking of the way you had done more splashing around than actual swimming. You hadn’t even known that Ryland was home at the time and you had no idea why he would be asking about it. “Why?”
“You just seemed really tense, I was wondering if you were sore.”
“Oh,” you said, to give yourself time. If Ryland could tell you were tense then you could only imagine what Rocky and Adrian were thinking, and suddenly the way that Adrian had caught you at the door made more sense. You rolled your shoulders as if deciding but it did twinge a little bit. “I guess it does.”
“Do you want me to give you a massage?”
“What?” you asked, though you actually had heard him that time, you just couldn’t process what your ears were taking in.
Ryland seemed to bite back a smile at this, but at least saved you the embarrassment of teasing you. “Would you be alright with me giving you a massage?”
You tried to make your face neutral though you had the sense that you vaguely resembled a frightened alley cat. Ryland moved you forward a bit so that he could get to your shoulders, and as soon as his thumbs dug into the back of your shoulder blades you started to melt.
With each press of his firm hands you became lighter and softer in his grip, your shoulders lowering to their normal height, and your body sagging with weight and heavily leaning into Ryland.
To his credit, he made no comment on the movement, he just continued on his quest to rid you of all your pains as bright pink cars drove by on the tv screen.
“Hey,” you said, a little hazy from how sleepy he was making you. “Doesn’t that guy kind of look like you?”
Ryland looked from you to the screen. “I do not look like that guy at all.”
You gestured up to the character on the tv, doubling down on your argument now that he was disagreeing with you. “He looks like he could be your twin. We would just have to dress you in pink western gear.
Ryland snorted, giving you a very unimpressed look. “Okay, as much as I could pull that off, that man looks nothing like me.”
You sat up, pulling yourself out of Ryland’s arms out of indignation. “Your face is literally the same!”
He leveled a look at you from over his glasses. “I think your skill for human facial recognition has just grown weaker after your time away from Earth,”
“You’ve been away from Earth the same amount of time as me!” you protested.
“You know what?
“What?” you challenged, and then Ryland was on top of you. Your stomach did a somersault as you shrieked and tried to get away to no avail.
“What are you dohoing?” you asked, already giggling as he reached towards your neck. Your shoulders curled up towards your ears, but Ryland only grabbed your head and roughly rubbed his knuckles against your hair, creating frizz and only making you giggle harder.
“Owhoohohw!” you yelled, yet you were flush with the disappointment that he wasn’t doing what you thought he would.
“Wait, am I actually hurting you?” Ryland asked, his hand still on your head, but unmoving now.
You froze in indecision. While he wasn’t doing what you wanted, it at least offered you a little bit of physical contact. Then again, you did actually want to watch the movie and didn’t want to bother Rocky and Adrian with your wrestling.
“Rocky and Grace go and get popcorn for movie,” Adrian suggested, though they might as well have added the ‘statement’ at the end of it for the level of question that was left in their voice. They twisted around to look at Rocky and he warbled back and forth with them for a moment before coming to an abrupt stand.
“Yes, Rocky and Adrian forgot human food,” he announced, grabbing Grace with one of his legs and pulling him to his feet. “Go get now.”
You turned around to look at Adrian in confusion, but they beat you to it.
Adrian leaned in closer towards you, like they were trying to get a better look. “What is human not telling Grace?”
You puffed a breath of air through your cheeks. “Nothing.”
Adrian rocked back. “Fine. Stubborn. Will get out of you anyways.”
Before you could question what their words meant, you were getting pulled towards them, arms snaking around you and claws digging into your sides.
You jolted so hard that you nearly threw yourself out of Adrian’s grip, but they had too many arms for your escape to come that easily.
Their pincer-like hands gently squeezed and wiggled into your sides and dear god did it tickle.
You were nearly vibrating on the spot from just a few prods, like your body had only needed a few months to forget how to deal with the sensation. You clasped a hand over your mouth to keep your laughter from exploding out of you. You were sure Rocky could already hear you, but you certainly didn’t need Ryland walking in on this and exposing you.
Adrian seemed to catch onto your ploy, and switched tactics, instead using one of their claws to pull your arm away from your side, another pincer reaching in to softly brush across your armpit, making you let out a squeak and a few stray giggles.
“Adrian!” you yelped,
“Yes? Question?” Adrian said flatly.
You risked taking your hand off of your mouth another time to talk. “The bohohys will see!”
Adrian wiggled one of their unused arms. “If not want Ryland and Grace to see, then tell Adrian what is secret.”
They moved down to your hip and gave it an experimental squeeze, making your leg jolt out to the side.
“This!” you squealed, your dam finally breaking and your giggles starting to pour out.
At this, Adrian slowed, though they still rested a claw on your hip.
“Human explain,” they said, very matter of factly.
You groaned and covered your face, but you knew you only had a matter of minutes, if not seconds till Rocky and Ryland came back and you couldn’t risk Ryland walking in as you spoke. You forced yourself to take a big deep breath then push your words out.
“I want Grace to tickle me but I don’t know if he wants to anymore?”
“What? Question?”
You groaned again, immediately regretting your decision to speak at all. You covered your face with your hands but you were only in the safety of darkness for a second before Adrian pulled your arms down to your sides.
“Not say words in judgement but not understand either.”
You sighed, your face burning, and resigned yourself to telling another person that you liked this odd thing. “Well tickling is-”
“Know what tickling is. Know what tickling means to human. Is why Adrian just did it. Why human think Grace not want to tickle? Question?”
You decided to momentarily ignore the fact that Adrian somehow knew infinitely more than they should’ve. “It’s been a long time and we’ve both changed. What if that side of him isn’t there anymore?”
“Adrian not see Rocky for a long time, still like Rocky.”
You frowned. “That’s not the same.”
“Friend must promise they tell Grace.”
Your jaw dropped. “What?”
Adrian continued on like you weren’t looking at them with wide eyes. “Promise Adrian you will tell Grace tonight.”
You started to back up, as if putting distance between the two of you would put a barrier between yourself and that terrifying idea. “There’s no way. I can’t.”
Adrian seemed on the verge of saying something else, but then the boys walked back in.
“Who’s ready for popcorn?” Ryland asked, carrying in a tub that was far too big for just the two of you.
He plopped down next to you in the pit of pillows and blankets and offered you some. You didn’t particularly want any, but you took a handful in order to have something to do with your hands.
Before the movie started back up Ryland stretched out, coincidentally putting his legs over top of yours, and suddenly your mouth felt very dry. You felt as though you had forgotten how to breathe or how much you were allowed to move.
You looked over and saw Ryland looking over at you, an overly adoring look on his face.
“What?” you questioned, almost defensively.
“Nothing,” he laughed heartily. “I just thought that you look especially adorable right now.”
You rolled your eyes and without thinking, you plunked your head down on his shoulder. “You’re so obnoxiously sweet.”
“Oh, you love it,” he cooed, and then he was curling his arm around your shoulder, settling into where you had leaned against him.
Rocky resumed the move from where you had been pre tussle, and you quickly fell into the bright hot pink world of barbieland. Rocky and Grace talked about the various music from the movie the whole time, and Adrian had to shush them several times. Even when you couldn’t hear the movie though, you at least could appreciate the bright costumes and set pieces in the fictional world. You couldn’t imagine how jarring it would be to go from bright beautiful barbieland to the complexity of the real world, which was both extraordinary and painful at times.
While everyone else was still hooked on the movie you glanced around the room at the roaring fireplace and the plush red conversation pit and the wide doorways to accommodate your friends. It wasn’t all that colorful, afterall Eridians couldn’t see color, but it felt real and bold all the same.
Everyone gave a laugh and you turned to the television right as mattel ceo started to be tickled to pieces by his workers. You felt yourself suppress the jolt just a second before you would’ve alerted the entire room to your nervous situation.
Adrian’s arm curled around you firmly, and you felt the physical press of the stone with the same intensity of their request.
You tried to settle back into Ryland, but you couldn’t see to focus for the tiny amount of the rest of the movie, your mind running too fast for you to keep up with it.
Before you knew it, you went from crying about the acceptance of the pain and the beauty of the real world to being whipped into the upbeat credit songs.
Ryland leaned towards you as he stretched out like a cat. “I still don’t think that guy looks like me.”
You stifled your smile with a yawn. “Agree to disagree.”
Rocky tip tapped his way over in front of the tv, turning the system off. “Humans like movie?”
Ryland wiggled his hand back and forth. “It’s lacking a little on the intersectionality bit, but hopefully Earth has progressed by now.”
Rocky stilled, one of his arms halted halfway in the air. “Grace wonder about earth sometimes? Question?”
Ryland drew in a breath, and when you looked over at him you found that he was already staring at you.
You tilted your head and his eyes seemed to soften in recognition. You watched the way he looked at you and realized he wasn’t appraising you, he was looking for reassurance. Only the three of you could truly understand what you’d gone through, and the two of you were the only humans in this solar system. Since Ryland did much better than you on Erid it was easy to forget it, but he still needed your companionship. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely then cleared his throat.” You reached down and squeezed his hand. No one else could understand the love that you had for your strange blue little planet and still not entirely desire to go back.
Ryland looked back up at Rocky, a new light in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Rocky’s arm snapped back down to his side. “Grace want to go back to earth? Question?”
At this, Ryland laughed and then pushed himself to a stand with a groan. “No buddy, I think you’re still stuck with me. I like it here with you three.”
Ryland offered you a hand up and you took it, starting to follow the boys out until Adrian caught you by the arm.
“What more evidence does human need? Question?”
You rolled your eyes, knowing it was nothing short of a death sentence to admit to Adrian that they had been right. “I can’t.”
Adrian gripped your wrist with only one of their claws. “Promise me you tell him.”
“Adrian-“ you started.
They pulled you back a little bit, making you stumble slightly. “Promise. Adrian need it
You raised a brow. Their voice sounded different than usual. “Why?”
Their grip loosened slightly. “To make sure is okay.”
Your arms went limp at your sides as you looked up at them. Suddenly you remembered all of the times they’d invited you over for movies and your job in the lab and every single dark pit that your Eridian friends had tried to pull you out of. They’d worked so hard to meet you where you were at and the taste of guilt soured in your mouth.
You sighed, blowing the feeling away.
“Fine, I promise.”
Adrian rattled side to side, the most expression that you’d seen from them in a long while. “Good, tell Adrian about later.”
They pushed you towards the door, and you barely managed to stay on your feet as you half tripped on the threshold, Ryland managing to throw his arm out to stop you from toppling forward.
“Woah, you alright there?”
You nodded, quickly leaning out of the firm press of his arm, but not before you imagined those strong arms pulling your hands above your head as his fingers wiggled above you, slowly descending towards your armpits until they finally touched down, making you kick out and scream. You wondered if he remembered the spot, if he still recalled how he would wiggle both of his hands into your armpits and raspberry your neck until your face was as warm as the sun and you admitted that you lost whatever silly argument the two of you had gotten into.
“Bye, get home safe friends,” Rocky yelled, and you nearly jumped as you were abruptly pulled back into reality. You looked to your right and desperately tried not to think about the fact that the person who you had been daydreaming about tickling you was staring at you.
Then you accidentally looked down at his hands and your skin broke out in goosebumps, and you seriously doubted whether you could actually manage to live through telling him.
“Did you like the movie?” Ryland asked, staring out at the sea.
You couldn’t look at him and stand still, so you started walking back to the cottage and hoped he followed. “Yeah,” you turned around to see that Ryland was only a step behind you. “I thought it was fun.”
“When was the last time you had fun?”
Your mind flashed back to taking his beaker on the Hail Mary, Rocky pinning your legs so Ryland could scribble around your tummy to his heart's content. He’d only let up until you admit that you just took it to get tickled, and though you had cursed and complained your whole way through it, happiness had flown through your veins like he had inserted it straight through an IV.
However, you knew you weren’t feeling brave enough yet to give him the real answer so you did what any scared person would do, you pivoted.
“I had fun tonight with you guys.” You added a smile, one that would hopefully really sell it, but Ryland only grinned like he knew you were lying.
“No.” He poked your hip with his elbow. “Like really had fun, like one of those memories where you think of it as you lay awake at night and it makes you smile as you drift off to sleep.”
He turned to you and his brown eyes were too warm, so you looked out towards the sea instead, letting the salty breeze cool your warm cheeks. “I don’t know. Probably back on the Hail Mary.”
“Really? It was that long ago?” There was something in his voice, not judgement but concern and he had probably already spent too much time worrying about you.
“When was yours?”
A puff of air came out of Ryland’s nose. “When I saw you dancing in the kitchen the other day.”
You shoved at his shoulder and jogged up towards the cottage, really anywhere to get away from his teases. “I thought you weren’t going to bring that up!”
He grabbed your arm, pulling you back.
“No, no I’m not making fun of you.”
You pulled away from him just a little bit. “Sure you aren’t.
Ryland pulled out your housekey from his pocket. “I just thought it was sweet.”
You narrowed your eyes, opening the storm door for him. “I don’t believe you.”
He turned the key but he didn’t open the door yet, instead, he only had eyes for you. “I hadn’t seen you dance in so long, I missed it.”
Your mouth opened but nothing came out, he opened the door and walked in, throwing his keys in the bowl.
You watched him step into the kitchen and fill his waterbottle, a thing he normally did right before bed, and it spurred you into action.
You shut the door behind you and shuffled in after him, grabbing the matching blue one that always sat next to his as the little ice cubes clunked into the bottom of his bottle.
“Ryland-” you started, then lost your momentum.
“Yes?” he said, setting it down and turning to look at you. That was the thing about Ryland Grace, if his attention was on you then all of his attention was on you. It was a blessing and a curse, and in your position it felt like the hot glow of a spotlight, making you unable to see into the crowd.
You tried to remember the promise that you’d given Adrian. You didn’t break your word, certainly not with people who had saved your life, so you needed to find a way to ask.
“Would you stay up with me for a little bit?”
Ryland cocked his head, the same thing that you’d watched him do time and time again when he couldn’t figure something out in the lab. When he got that way then it was only a matter of time till he figured it out.
“Yeah, do you mind if I go change first?” he asked, still not having taken his eyes off of you.
You cradled your arm with the other to give yourself some physical contact. “That’s fine.”
“Okay, give me a few minutes.” He grabbed a hold of your shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll be right back out.”
He finished up in the kitchen and shut the door to his room, leaving you with yourself and your flaming skin. You silently groaned, and forced yourself to do the same.
As you picked your pajamas you tried not to think about things that would give him easy access. You changed into a pair of soft shorts and a tank top, but threw a sweatshirt overtop of it.
When you left your bedroom his door was still closed so you headed out to the deck on the side of the living room.
The breeze was cool in the evening air and it felt nice against your overly warm body. You sat on the big couch that faced the ocean and looked up to see the full moon. The scientists had added one for the two of you, and even the lunar cycle. Even though it wasn’t really real, looking at it still calmed you. It always seemed to put you at peace, the knowledge that there were so many bigger things out there that would live on past you. The sun might witness your embarrassment, but it cared naught for it, because it was a star with much bigger things to do.
You felt the same about the sea, which is why it had been added in, that and the fact that Ryland needed the white noise to sleep.
As if sensing that you were thinking about him, he appeared in the doorway and letting out some of the light from the kitchen. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi,” you said, and instinctively curled your legs under yourself.
“So,” he started, and then he was walking across the deck to meet you. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
He sat down next to you, leaving several feet of space on the couch behind him.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Ryland raised his brows but didn’t question you. Instead he just stared at you in the semi darkness, his eyes unmoving from yours.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you blurted out, though not unkindly.
He cocked his head. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. It just feels very intense.” Your gaze went back to the ocean, trying to gather up courage from its depths. “Like you’re looking right through me.”
You saw him shrug out of the corner of your eye. “I don’t mean to, it’s just the way I look at people.”
You started to feel bad, not wanting to insult him because you were scared, but then he was doing the talking for you again. “Maybe that it’s just because you feel too seen right now.
You kept your eyes on the horizon, forcing yourself to take deep breaths of the salty air.
“Your silence is speaking volumes,” he said, but his voice was starting to go high enough that it could’ve passed as teasing. Luckily he broke into a laugh before you could try to mutter something completely incoherent. “Talk to me.”
“There’s-” you started, then shifted so you were facing him. “There’s something I want to tell you, and I’ve told you it before, but I’m scared to do it again.”
Ryland shifted on the couch, the metal frame creaking slightly in the silence. “Is there anything I can do to make it easier?”
The words ‘don’t tease’ were on your lips, but you didn’t want to say it and then have to explain that you didn’t really mean it. What you wanted to ask was if he was still a little of the same man that you’d come to know on the Hail Mary, if he still loved how you were obsessed with giggling and touch, if he treasured those happy moments like you did, if he liked the version of you that had healed, or if he had only accepted those things because the earlier times were so dire.
“I don’t think so.”
You settled into silence for a long moment, like Ryland knew you needed the space to work up the words. When they came to the surface though, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to say the full, real thing. “Do you remember when we used to play fight on the Hail Mary?”
Ryland smiled, the moon illuminating his bright eyes. “Of course”
Your words came faster this time. “Do you miss it?
“Do you?” Ryland asked immediately in return, and his stubbornness almost immediately made you forget what you were afraid of, your voice filled with determination instead.
“I asked first.”
“Yes.” You squinted in the darkness and realized Ryland was blushing. He seemed flustered, perhaps embarrassed and it made you push on.
“Do you remember the times you tackled me to the ground?”
Ryland shifted slightly. “And tickled you?”
Your breath got caught and you had to clear your throat. “That, yeah. What do you think about that now?”
Ryland held his hands up, fiddling with his fingernails. “I’m sorry let me just make sure we’re talking about the same thing, think about what exactly now?”
You knew this was when you were supposed to say the word tickle, but you couldn’t quite do it. “Those moments.”
Ryland rested his head on his hand. “The playfighting and the tickling?”
You bit your lip and nodded.
Ryland hunched over, like he was trying to make himself smaller. “I think they were sweet, they were fun. I think we both needed an escape and we used play to cope.”
You fiddled with a silver string that hung off of the bottom of your pajama shorts. “So those are things that only happened cause we were stuck on the ship?”
You briefly looked up to catch Ryland frowning. “Why would you think that?”
You went back to toying with your stray hem. “I don’t know, people do crazy things in the face of death, maybe those moments would be weird to you now.”
Ryland readjusted himself. “Okay, now I’m lost again, are we talking about playfighting, or are we really talking about me tickling you?”
You closed your eyes. “The second thing.”
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he said, and though you weren’t looking at him you could feel the knowingness in his voice.
“Don’t say it like that,” you groaned, covering your face up.
All I said was oh!” Ryland laughed, and somehow even that felt mean.
“Do you know what I’m talking about now?” you asked, covering your face up with your hands.
“You mean how you like being tickled?”
“Oh my GOD. You cannot just say that!” You pushed his knee, and then rested your face on his legs.
“I’m sorry! I’m not even trying to tease you yet! I’m just making sure that we’re on the same page.”
“Yes, it’s tickles,” you sighed. “I wanted to ask you if it was something you still wanted to do. I’ve been thinking about it since breakfast.”
He began stroking the back of your head, sending shivers down your spine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You spoke softly, almost in a whisper. “I was scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“That you didn’t like it anymore, that you had lost interest, that you no longer cared to play games with this version of me, that you found it weird now that you have more people to interact with.”
Ryland’s brows furrowed. “Why would any of that be true?”
“I don’t know.” You threw your hands up. “I didn’t say it was rational, I just said I was scared.”
At this, he seemed to soften, he dropped your wrists and placed his hands on your knees. “Actually, I was in the same boat.”
“What?”
“You didn’t notice how I kept trying to initiate physical contact today?”
The day started to playback as you noticed how his hands were on your skin even now. “Why?”
“You’ve seemed more alive recently. It felt like you came back to me and I started to wonder if that old version of you was still in there, if you still wanted to cozy into me like how we watched movies on the Hail Mary when we were nutrient deprived and delirious. I don’t want those times back, but I wanted you back, and I was too scared to ask you for it just in case you weren’t ready. I didn’t want to rush along the process that you’re going through.”
You were at a loss of words for a moment, stuck between nearly laughing and the sudden striking urge that you needed to cry. “You missed tickling me?”
Ryland blushed deeper. “I missed tickling you.”
He was starting to lean towards you, his hands starting to twitch toward your sides, but you knew you would only be brave for so long and you needed to hear it from him. “So you don’t think it’s weird now?”
Ryland stilled. “I think to be human is to be weird and I love indulging you in your weirdness.” He tapped a finger to your collarbone. “And don’t you dare forget that.”
His words made you feel gooey on the insides, so much so that you couldn't even say something snarky about it. “Awwwww.”
Ryland smiled and held his arms open. You accepted his offer without question and you wrapped your arms snuggly around his middle, tucking your face into his chest. His arms felt firm around your lower back as he curled you in towards him, tucking you in like he was making a cocoon just for you.
He gave you an extra firm squeeze and you settled in further, sighing deeply as he wrapped his arms all the way around you, his hands pressed against your sides.
“You’re so nice and warm,” you murmured.
Ryland laid back pulling you against him like you were his personal blanket and you were almost ready to fall asleep like that until he flipped you around.
You landed underneath him, pinned to the couch by his bodyweight. “Ryland, what are you-”
“I’m sorry but you had to see this coming,” he said, and you could practically hear his grin as his fingers started wiggling into your sides.
“NO!” you shrieked, but there was nowhere to go with his full weight on top of you. He had started out barely moving, as if he was testing the waters, but he quickly settled into a routine of raking his fingers down your sides before squeezing a few times to keep you on your toes.
It tickled like hell and it was already so much worse than all of the times that he’d tickled you on the Hail Mary, and it made you severely wonder how you had survived his reign of torment. If it was possible, you’d only gotten more ticklish with time, every twitch of his fingers turning into a laugh that threatened to consume you whole.
“Rylahahahhand, wahahahahit!” you squealed, your eyes shut and wiggling side to side.
“Oh no, no, no,” Ryland grumbled. “No more waiting. I’ve had enough waiting. In fact, I’ve decided we need to put you on a tickling regimen now.”
A shriek was ripped out of you, making you open your eyes. “WHAt?”
“Mhmm, I’ll work on it after I get my lesson plans done. We need to reinstate weekly, no, daily tickling,” he smiled down at you and though his hands stilled, you were still giggling.
“That is NOT necessary.”
Ryland pulled his arms out from underneath you and grabbed your hands as he sat up. You tried to pull out of his grip, but your hands were quickly pinned to your chest, leaving your stomach completely exposed.
“Well we have to tickle you when you’re snarky and when you complain about work even though you love your job, and we have to tickle you anytime you look adorable-” he pauses just long enough to tweak your side and your squeak and flinch. “So that’s at least every day, if not a couple times a day at least.”
“I’m not even that snarky,” you say breathily.
“Oh, so you’re not gonna curse me out if I do this?” Ryland softly grabs a handful of your sweatshirt and top and slowly pulls it up, making you watch as he slowly exposes your tummy.
You suck your stomach in and start kicking your feet out on instinct. “No, no, no, Ryland don’t you fucking dare.”
“Too late.”
He bends down and you cringe away before the raspberry is even there, scrunching your face up and preparing for the onslaught of vibration against your nerves. He pauses for a moment, just long enough to make you wonder why you haven’t felt it yet and you chance a peak at him right as his head ducks down.
The noise he makes is loud and you’re sure that Rocky and Adrian probably hear your consequent scream before you start squealing with laughter. The raspberry seems to last forever, longer than you thought was even possible as he nuzzles his stubble into your skin. You shake your head side to side just to give the energy somewhere to go.
“I HATE you!” you screech as he starts scritching across your stomach, always too fast for you to even figure out where his hands are.
Ryland only smiles down at you “Are the little tickles making you feel embarrassed?”
“Shut UP!”
“I would, but I know you don’t want me to.”
“Yes I DO!”
Ryland’s hands move down to your hips dusting across the bones with light traces that are far too ticklish for someone who is supposed to be one third of humanity's savior.
“Get ohoohff of thehehehre!”
“Give me somewhere else to go then,” Ryland stated.
Your eyes fly open despite the laughter spasms that were exploding out of you. “WhAT?”
“If you want me to move, then give me somewhere else to go.” HIs fingers twirled around your hips, occasionally squeezing into the divot and making you feel like you were hallucinating under the touch of his fingertips.
“Yohohohou’re mahahahaking mehehehe phihihihick?”
Ryland raised a brow. “What? Am I flustering you or something?”
“NO!” you shrieked out as he pressed into your hips again, making you want to curl up into a ball.
“Ohhhhh, I’m not?” he asked, and you knew this was your last chance to apologize and tell him that you were well beyond flustered, but you chose to keep going down the road to see where it went.
“NO!” you yelled through laughter, and then Ryland let up.
“Okay, let’s test that theory.”
He scooted forward, dropping one wrist in favor of grabbing the other and pinning it far above your head so that your arm was all the way stretched out, leaving your armpit fully on display and utterly helpless.
“No, not this, please,” you murmured, closing your eyes and covering your face with your free arm.
“Uh-uh.” He removed your arm from your face. “If you want it you have to watch it.”
You groaned and attempted to bury your head in the couch. “You’re so mean to me.”
Ryland softly brushed your hair out of your face. “You’re not getting tickled if you can’t watch.”
Your head whipped towards him. “That's unfair!”
“You can’t watch this?” he asked, then held his wiggling hand above your head, fingers in the shape of a claw playing the air like a piano.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” he whispered, the hand getting closer and closer to your armpit.”
Just as he was about to touch the skin, you yelped and closed your eyes only to hear Ryland laughing at you.
“Rude!”
He covered his mouth as if it made it better, as if you couldn’t see the mischief in his eyes. “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you’re so embarrassed like this.”
“Shut up.”
His wiggling fingers appeared above your face once more and in spite of yourself, you gasped when he dipped down quickly only to pull away and start squeezing your hips again.
You shrieked and chortled, weakly pushing at his hands since you were no longer being pinned down.
“I told you I wasn’t switching spots until you picked one,” he teased.
“I CAN’T!” you yelled, your body twitching every time his devious fingers dug into the sensitive spot in the divot.
“I think you can,” he replied in a sing-song voice.
“GRHAHACE PLHEHEHESE!” you begged, slapping at his hands as you descended further into your giggly drunkenness.
“Oh, last name? You must be getting desperate.”
You nodded your head weakly, but he only smirked at you and it made you wonder that if your time away had made you more ticklish that in turn, it had made him more evil. “Where do you want to be tickled?” he repeated.
“NOWHERE!” you insisted though you could see the answer written so clearly in your memory.
Ryland only rolled his eyes and if you had the breath to say it then you would’ve made some smart remark about how he looked exactly like his previous students. His hands eventually stilled, though they still rested on your hips.
“You have to make a decision, it’s the only way you get out.”
You sucked in a deep breath, once again refusing to look at him. “You deserve jail time for this. They need to make a prison for you here.”
“I actually wasn’t going to make you say the full sentence, but actually you’ve changed my mind.”
You shot up, your eyes going wide. “Wait, no please, I take it-”
Ryland shrugged and blew out a huff of air like he was actually disappointed. “No, too late. I think I’m gonna need a full sentence with the words ‘can you please’ and ‘tickle’ in there.”
You let your head thunk back against the couch, and you closed your eyes.
“With eye contact,” Ryland added, and you swore you were going to catch on fire.
“You’re the worst,” you groaned as you forced your eyes open.
You looked at him and were immediately hit with the full force of his attention and the way his eyes melted, like he was looking at you with all of the love and understanding in the world, like he saw right through your whole charade. The worst part was, he did.
“Can you please- can you,” You started, but couldn’t quite push the words out.
“Take your time,” he smiled and though it was genuine it only felt like a tease.
“Shut up.”
You looked at him square in his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Can you tickle my armpits please?”
“Put your arms up.”
“I have to LET you?” you asked incredulously.
Ryland nodded, crossing his arms, and somehow you knew he wasn’t kidding. You squeezed your arms together against your chest barely managing to bring them so that your elbows were above your shoulders.
Ryland wordlessly flicked his fingers and you moved your arms so that they were just above your eyes, and you felt all of that uncovered skin shiver in the cool air.
Ryland looked unimpressed and made the gesture again. “Come on, up.”
Your jaw dropped from his sheer audacity. “They ARE up.”
“All the way,” he drawled, and you grimaced as you slowly stretched your arms high above your head and leaving all of you completely exposed.
“See? Now was that so hard,” he cooed, and just as you were about to respond, his hands dug into your armpits like little spiders, crawling around with feathers.
Your arms shot down, trapping his twitching fingers into your overly sensitive hollows. “YES!” you screeched, giggling and kicking your feet as your skin prickled with heat.
“Awe, does someone have a case of the giggles?” Ryland cooed, his lips coming dangerously close to your neck.
You had something on the tip of your tongue, a glorious insult that would leave him shocked that you had come up with something so clever, but all of your words got swallowed up by your laughter. As his fingers continued wiggling into your armpits, you screeched and twitched and could do nothing more until Ryland pulled his fingers out, allowing you a great breath of air.
“You. Are. Awful,” you heaved out, still squirming around in a desperate attempt to get rid of the phantom tickles.
“Yes, so awful for giving you exactly what you wanted. Practically the worst.”
You nodded. “I’m so glad you’re finally seeing reason.”
“Don’t make me go back to your armpits,” he threatened, holding up a finger but you only giggled.
“Alright, have you had enough little tickle magnet?”
“Mhmm,” you nodded, looking back out at the ocean, another vision of him burrowing his stubble into your neck appearing to you in a haze.
Ryland gently took a hold of your chin, pointing you back towards him. “Why do I get the sense you’re getting bashful on me again.
You covered you face with your hands. It should’ve been enough, you shouldn’t need more, but your brain was stuck on the image of his hands buried in your armpits and his head nuzzled into your neck.
“What do you want?” Ryland prodded softly.
“I can’t,” you groaned from beneath your hands.
He pulled them away from your face with some effort. “Come on, we’re all weird here. You can ask.”
You closed your eyes to talk since he had taken away your wall of protection. “It’s too embarrassing."
Ryland grabbed a hold of your shoulders. “To be known is to be embarrassed, or something, come on, out with it.”
You shook your head but finally looked up at him. “I can’t.”
“Here, I’ll close my eyes, will that help?”
Somehow his offer only made you feel more squishy and you groaned as your face only got more hot. “Can you keep doing the thing you were just doing? “
“Tickling your armpits?”
You nodded, and he started to grab ahold of your hands again but you held him off this time. “Wait, can you do the other thing too?”
“The what?” Ryland asked, leaning closer towards your face.
You were fairly certain that speaking the words outloud might send you to an early grave, but you forced them out anyways. “Can you raspberry my neck too?”
“While I’m tickling your armpits?” he asked, raising a brow.
You nodded, your words starting to fail you again.
“Wow, Erid made you brave, didn’t it?”
You were about to comment that it did, that the love of your friends had altered you as a human and your ways of communication, but you didn’t have the time cause Ryland was tilting your head to the side and taking in a deep breath.
You barely had enough time to take a breath of your own until he was burrowing into you and sending you into another peal of laughter. He shoved his fingers back into his armpits and you jolted with the shock of his fingernails curling against your skin.
You were both fighting him and leaning into him, unable to pull yourself away from his stubble nuzzling into your neck, and simultaneously shaking your head to get rid of his horrible raspberries vibrating across your nerves.
Your brain stopped making words, instead just falling down the slide of consciousness in a steady humming stream of it tickles, it tickles, it tickles. You screeched and wiggled around but it was all just a reaction, not an intentional thing you were doing. Your mind started to drift away on you, leaving you airy and pleasantly floaty.
Pretty soon you realized you were still giggling but Ryland was no longer tickling you.
“Had enough fun over there giggles?” he asked, peering down at you.
“Yehehehes!” you said, too tired to remember that you didn’t usually admit that.
Ryland lit up in a smile, a lack of snark in the way his lips twitched.
He pulled you up, sitting you upright on the couch, and you let him manhandle you, allowing him to use the arms that he’d worked so hard to get back.
He rose to get off the couch and you stared at his face, backlit by the moon. He took a step towards the door, and you grabbed ahold of his wrist.
“Cahahahlm down, I’m just going to go get your water. I’ll be right back,” he squeezed your shoulder and left the door open as he went. You watched him as he traveled to the island and all the way back to you.
“See, I promised, didn’t I?”
You remembered Adrian’s words from earlier and ruefully smiled to yourself. “A promise is how I got here.”
Ryland sat down next to you again. “How?”
You took a long swig from your waterbottle. It was bad enough that you were going to have to tell this story later, but had already used up all of your embarrassment for the night so it would be tomorrow's problem. “Adrian made me promise that I’d tell you I wanted tickled.”
Ryland clucked his tongue. “Wow, you said the word again.”
You lightly smacked him in the arm. “Because I’m still stupidly giggle drunk.”
Ryland smiled at you and cozied into the couch with a sigh. You leaned into his shoulder and he cradled the back of your neck. “Does that mean you can’t go to sleep yet?”
“Probably,” you glanced up at him from the corner of your eyes. “-but you’re welcome to go to bed.”
He shrugged you up. “No, I’ll stay up with you for a little bit.”
“Just let me know when you want to go inside,” you murmured, stifling a yawn that was refusing to back down. You nuzzled into his sweater and stared out at the fake sea in front of you.
You knew that above your little biodome was a galaxy of vast stars, and while the world was still unknowable and scary at times, you were glad that you had stuck around to see it all.
Sometimes you hear a song and a fic pops into your head full formed. This is a trap. The fic may be fully formed in your brain, but you still Have to write it down. This is an important step that most people forget about.
