blueberrygiggles - Tumblr blog

blueberrygiggles · 19 days ago

Text

Training Montage

#AugTickletober2024 Days 13 & 14, Win & Lose

My first tickletober fic of the year, and my first time exploring writing with DC characters! I have been. Hyperfixating on the batfamily (which has broadened to a far larger amount of DC characters now and continues to grow, i will never escape DC lol) since like. June. So this has been a long time coming skjdfhdf

Also this fic features FULLY PLATONIC AND NOT WEIRD parent-child tickles so if that's not your thing this is not your fic!

You can blame this fic on that one quick scene in BTAS episodes Robin's Reckoning where Dick and Bruce are fencing and then start goofing off, and also the part with Bruce and Jason in @/fickle-tiction's fic For Old Time's Sake.

Also, disclaimer: i have only consumed so much canon media, very little of it so far being comics and most of it being DCAU, so my current knowledge of a LOT of these characters is very fanon-based, so the characterization will also be very fanon-based

-------------

Fandom: DC - Batfam

Ship(s): NONE/GEN/PLATONIC - under no circumstances is this Batcest

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian

Word Count: 4609 words

Summary: Snippets of Bruce training with his sons over the years.

[ao3 link]

-------------

Dick’s training was progressing exceptionally well. He had always been fast and agile thanks to his acrobatic upbringing, but he was quick to pick up the offensive and defensive maneuvers Bruce was trying to impart. Still, he was so young. Sometimes Bruce couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing, bringing a child into this life.

It became all too apparent in moments like these, where training suddenly switched from work into play with just a few of Dick’s childish giggles. Bruce couldn’t help the grin they brought to his own face, laughing a little himself as Dick dove into the open space between Bruce’s legs to evade a grapple.

“Okay, now you’re gonna get it,” he said.

Dick kept giggling, the laughter melting into a yelp as Bruce grabbed the edge of the training mat and yanked, sending Dick crashing down onto the plush surface. Bruce launched after him, wiggling fingers outstretched like weapons.

“No fair!” Dick shouted, his giggling bubbling up into full laughter as he tried to squirm away from the hands squeezing his sides. “You cheated!”

“Oh, yeah?”

He tripped his fingers up to Dick’s ribs, laughing along as Dick flopped around like a fish out of water. It was adorable how uncoordinated Dick became when he was tickled, all that acrobatic control flying out the window.

“Cheating cheater!” Dick screeched, kicking his legs and rolling onto his back to dislodge Bruce. All he accomplished was opening up his stomach for Bruce to target.

“You’ve got to learn to fight dirty, Dick,” Bruce said, trying to adopt the tone he often used to give corrections in training but falling closer to amused than anything. “A mugger on the street isn’t going to fight fair.”

“A mugger isn’t gonna tickle me, B!” He squealed as Bruce’s hands tried to sneak into his armpits, clamping his arms down tight as if it would do anything to keep Bruce out.

“Hmm, you never know.”

“B!”

Bruce’s own fond laughter was cut short as a small foot caught him in the jaw, sending him down to the floor. Dick really was improving, that kick packed way more punch than any ten year old should. That was definitely going to bruise.

“That’s what you get,” Dick said through his giggles. He sat up as they slowly petered out, eyeing Bruce’s prone form. “Uh, B? You good?”

Quick as lightning, Bruce shot a hand out to wrap around a tiny ankle. He shot Dick his best evil grin. “Not bad. But you’re going to regret that.”

Dick’s squeaky, childish laughter echoed throughout the Cave once more.

_____

Training with Jason was tricky. When he’d first brought Jason to the Manor, they could hardly share a room without Jason bristling. If he made any sudden movements or showed any signs of anger, Jason tensed and shied away as if preparing for a strike, even if he kept up his hissing and spitting and posturing all the while.

It made sparring quite the issue when preparing Jason to take up the Robin mantle. Initially, Bruce thought it might’ve helped if Dick were around more often – Jason always seemed less wary of him, whether it was the fact that they were closer in age or something else, Bruce had no idea – but these days their arguments were explosive and often had Dick not speaking to him for weeks at a time.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, Dick being present for training only added to the tension.

“You need to tuck your legs more for that flip.”

“I fucking know–”

“Language, Jason.”

“Yeah, Jason, language.”

“I’ll show you language–”

“Boys!”

The two snapped their mouths shut, glaring at Bruce, and he had to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. Maybe Bruce should’ve thought through giving Jason the Robin mantle a little more carefully. Maybe it would’ve minimized the sniping by at least some amount.

“Perhaps we should switch to sparring, for now,” Bruce said. “Who wants to go first?”

Jason’s shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. Unfortunately, due to Dick focusing more on his phone than training, Bruce was the only one to notice.

Dick scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t think so, you big fat cheater.”

Bruce shot Dick a look, but his eyes were still glued to his phone as he lounged across one of the benches. He forced himself to swallow his frustration. He promised Alfred that he’d try his best not to start a fight today – Alfred wanted a family dinner tonight, and Bruce couldn’t deny that the prospect sounded nice.

Bruce led Jason into a spar, both of them tight with tension. Dick split his attention between furiously texting – probably the Teen Titan’s group chat, if Bruce had to guess – and lazily watching their spar. Eventually they managed to settle into a sort of rhythm despite the tension thrumming through them, at least until Bruce brought attention to an open window in Jason’s defense. Of course, he would never hit his children, sparring or not, but instead of the usual controlled tap he would use on Jason, Bruce forgot himself for a moment and delivered a sneaky pinch to Jason’s side.

The squeal that echoed through the Cave’s training grounds got even Dick’s attention, his phone falling smack onto his nose as he fumbled it in surprise. Everyone froze, eyes wide. Jason blinked in Bruce’s direction for a moment before his cheeks flushed bright red, completely detracting from the scowl he twisted his face into.

“I’m not ticklish,” Jason stated, his voice as close to a growl as a pre-pubescent child could get.

It took all of Bruce’s Batman training to fight down his smile. “Of course not. No one said you were.”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest, shuffling his feet. “Good. Because I’m not.”

Dick leaned forward, almost rolling off the bench, a smug smile on his face. Bruce shot him a warning look, and the teasing expression melted into a pout. It seemed as though Bruce wasn’t the only one who got a lecture from Alfred.

“Bruce has always been a dirty cheat,” Dick said instead of whatever taunt he’d cut off.

Jason turned and blinked at him.

Dick raised his eyebrows. “He’s always been a massive tickle monster.”

“Hey,” Bruce said. “From what I remember, there was a rambunctious little boy who often asked for the tickle monster.”

Dick scowled at him, his own cheeks turning red to match Jason’s. “I did no such thing.” He turned to Jason and shrugged. “He used to do it all the time, he hated pretending to hit me so he always tickled me instead.” His eyes flickered to Bruce for a moment, a smirk growing on his face. “Good thing you’re not ticklish then, huh, Jay?”

“... Right.”

Bruce guided Jason back into the spar. This time, Jason was noticeably looser and more focused. His body still carried some amount of that wary tension, but he was no longer eyeing Bruce like he was a cornered animal. When Jason’s guard slipped again, leaving the same window open, Bruce didn’t hesitate in his attack.

“You need to watch your left,” he instructed, reaching out and squeezing at Jason’s side once more.

Jason let out another loud squeal, making Dick laugh and Bruce fail to shove down another smile. Jason tripped over his own feet as he tried to scramble away and landed on the mat. Bruce followed him down, careful to kneel next to him and leave plenty of openings for Jason to escape if he felt trapped. He wiggled his fingers against Jason’s sides, breaking into a grin at the giggles it produced.

“Bruce!”

Bruce chuckled. “Yes, Jaylad?”

Jason kicked his feet out and curled into a ball as best as he could, but he didn’t roll away from Bruce’s hands or shout at him to stop. Bruce allowed his hands to converge on Jason’s stomach as he uncurled with another kick, earning himself a bout of loud laughter that he’d never heard Jason make before. Jason struggled to thrust a hand out, reaching in Dick’s direction.

“Dick, help me!”

Behind him, Bruce heard the bench shift and the unconscious hums Dick would make when he stretched out his muscles. Then, there was a battle cry and the thudding sound of feet against the training mats.

“I’ll save you, Jay!”

Bruce braced as Dick launched onto his back – DIck definitely wasn’t twelve anymore, and Bruce worried that he’d be feeling that one in the morning – and locked his arms around Bruce’s neck. Jason got a brief reprieve as Bruce flipped Dick over his shoulder, both of them laughing all the while. Dick smacked into the mats next to Jason with a wheeze, and Bruce waited a moment for him to get a breath in before he attacked once more, a set of wiggling fingers for each son.

Dick’s thrashing was chaotic as ever as he cackled, Bruce deciding to be a bit mean and sneak his fingers directly into Dick’s underarm. Jason curled into a giggling little ball once more, jolting as Bruce gently pinched up and down his ribcage.

“B! You asshole!” Dick shrieked.

Bruce laughed. “You brought this on yourself, chum.”

Training with Jason went a lot smoother from then on, and Dick even started coming by more often again – even if it was just to see Jason and avoid Bruce. They never did manage to perfect that double-team attack to get their revenge on Bruce.

_____

Bruce didn’t think he’d ever escape the guilt he felt over how Tim’s training began. He didn’t think he deserved to either, especially when he would find Tim training on his own, working himself to the point of exhaustion or injury in order to achieve perfection. Now that Bruce was in his right mind and would end their joint training sessions at a more reasonable point, Tim would get frustrated with him and slink off to bury himself in cases instead.

When they sparred, there were no taunting remarks, no dirty tactics designed to draw a laugh out of the Batman, no playfulness as they both began to tire out and call an unofficial end to training. Tim took it all so seriously, and it was all Bruce’s fault. He did this to the boy, and now he had to fix it. He couldn’t rely on Dick to fix all the issues his “emotional constipation” caused, no matter how appealing the idea seemed.

Unfortunately, Bruce was not good with words, and it’s not like Tim would have been likely to listen to them anyways. Fortunately, he has another idea – it’s what made Jason eventually relax in regards to training, at least. Not that Tim was Jason. He was getting better at not making those comparisons anymore.

Though it was a bit hypocritical for him to condemn, Tim had arrived at training that day already noticeably overworked. His moves were sloppy (though sloppy for a Bat was not the same as sloppy for anyone else) and he was clearly frustrated with own mistakes and shortcomings. Tim was good at keeping a lid on his temper, but Bruce could see the tension in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, the tightness in his lips. They had only been training for a fraction of their normal time before Bruce decided to put his plan into motion, unwilling to let Tim drive himself any further into the ground.

Bruce lunged forward, ducking under a sloppy block, and managed to tackle Tim to the mat, taking extra care to protect Tim’s head and neck. Tim grunted as they hit the mat, but immediately set to squirming away instead of tapping out just as Bruce predicted. Instead of grappling him and letting him get in some practice with breaking holds, Bruce levered himself up and immediately set to vibrating his fingers into Tim’s ribs. Tim yelped and and his squirming increased tenfold, his eyes going wide and shocked.

“Bruce! What are you doing?”

Bruce’s lips quirked up. “Your block was sloppy. I’m just showing you where you need to defend.” Bruce let one hand wriggle into his armpit while the other scurried down to his stomach.

“What are you– Why– What is– Bruce!” Tim’s voice went all high-pitched and warbly as he smacked uselessly at Bruce’s hands, clearly unsure how to even defend himself.

Bruce chuckled, even as his heart ached at Tim’s confusion with affection as simple as tickling. “A little laughter never hurt anyone, Tim. No reason why training needs to hurt.”

Before he could respond, Bruce’s hands jumped up to flutter around his neck and ears, just to see him scrunch up. And scrunch up Tim did, his shoulders jumping up as high as they could while Tim scrabbled for Bruce’s wrists and shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the fingers. Finally, the dam broke and Tim burst into boyish giggles, finally looking and sounding his age for the first time since he showed up and insisted that Batman needed a Robin.

And Tim had been right, Batman had needed a Robin. But it looked like maybe Tim needed a new family. Bruce made a mental note to look into the Drake’s parenting while keeping Tim in his newfound state of giggles. Hopefully after this they could convince Tim to take a nap. And if not, well, Dick had been dying for a movie night. If anyone could get Tim to take a break, it would be him.

_____

Bruce hadn’t overseen the start of Damian’s Robin training. Instead, that responsibility had fallen to Dick, though he had been wracked with grief and presumed Bruce dead at the time. Now that Bruce was back and prepared to take on the burden of Batman once again, he could see Dick’s teachings in almost every move Damian made, melding carefully with his training from the League of Assassins. But even still, he tackled his training with a single-minded determination that could put Tim or even Bruce himself to shame – that was one thing that had not changed while Bruce was lost in the timestream.

Sometimes, it seemed like one of the only things.

Still, that didn’t mean Bruce was prepared to let Damian overwork himself. He clearly had some hangups from his life in the League, and it didn’t seem as though anyone had worked it through his head that overtraining would only harm him in the long run. Up until now, during their spars, Bruce had used the same gentle taps that he’d used to train all his boys. When the next opening in Damian’s defenses came, Bruce didn’t stop to think about his actions, so used to the years of training with his other sons. He pinched gently at Damian’s exposed ribs, both to bring attention to his weak defense and to start the process of winding training down.

Damian made a startled, choked-off noise and went tense for a brief moment, but he recovered well, swiftly disengaging from Bruce’s attack. He eyed Bruce from the other end of the mat, still balanced on his toes and ready to fight despite the sweat dripping down his brow and the exhaustion Bruce could see pulling at his limbs.

“I expect this sort of behavior from someone as frivolous as Grayson,” Damian said. “But you, Father?”

Bruce allowed the corner of his mouth to tick up. “Who do you think taught it to him?”

“Tt.” Damian sneered. “As I’ve told Grayson numerous times – games such as these have no business on the training mats.” He sniffed. “Plus, I am not a child.”

Bruce stared Damian down, in all his four-and-a-half foot, ten-year-old glory. “Of course not.”

“So we may continue training without any more of this nonsense?”

Bruce allowed a full, broad smirk to cross his face. “If you don’t want to get tickled, don’t get caught.”

Damian’s eyes went wide, and for a moment he truly looked like the young and innocent boy he should have been, but they just as swiftly narrowed in determination as he lowered himself back into a fighting stance. Even as tired as he was, Damian was able to hold his own very well – clearly a skill born of necessity. Hopefully they could convince him to pace himself eventually.

But as skilled as he was, Damian was still just a child. Eventually, he slipped up and Bruce was able to slip under his defenses. A few pokes, prods, and pinches later, Damian was on the ground, red-faced as he tried not to laugh under Bruce’s tickling fingers.

“You know,” Bruce said. “I’m told it’s much better if you just let it out.”

Damian shook his head with a jerk, trying valiantly to escape Bruce’s clutches. Unfortunately for him, Bruce was well-versed in the pinning and tickling of trained child vigilantes. Damian finally broke, kicking out with a childish shriek, when Bruce started pinching the muscles just above his knees. If it were Dick or even Tim, Bruce might’ve started teasing to get into his head and make it tickle that much more. As it was, Bruce thought Damian might bite his head off if he tried. Instead he just grinned wide, chuckling along with Damian’s surprisingly shrill laughter, and kept his cooing about how adorable his son was in his own mind.

Bruce’s attack didn’t last long. He didn’t want to push Damian too far with how exhausted he already was. Not to mention, their relationship was tentative and hesitant enough already, with Damian trying to figure out how he fit with Bruce now after the relationship he had built with Dick. Bruce only kept Damian laughing for a few minutes before releasing him and giving his hair a suitable ruffle, much to Damian’s disdain.

Maybe they’d be able to figure this out after all

_____

It was rare these days for Bruce’s sons to all be in the Manor at the same time. Rarer still for them to have gathered together on the training mats, what with how many fratricide attempts had passed between the four of them. Bruce had been planning on doing some solo exercise before patrol, but now he found himself on edge as he cautiously approached the Cave’s training area.

Bruce set aside the tape he had grabbed for his knuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Boys.”

“Hey, B!” Dick chirped, grinning from where he hung upside down on one of the pullup bars. “Getting some training in?”

He raised an eyebrow, scanning over the four of them for injuries. “I was intending to.”

Jason scoffed from where he was stretching out on the training mats. He was in nothing but a t-shirt and sweats, the most dressed down Bruce had seen him since he’d come back to them. He wore his leather jacket like a shield these days, especially on the rare occasions he visited the Manor.

“Don’t let us stop you, old man.”

Bruce hummed, turning his gaze to his two youngest. “Tim. Damian.”

“Hi, Bruce.”

“Father.”

Dick flipped off the pushup bar with a flourish. “Up for a spar, Bruce? It’s been a while.”

Bruce scanned over the four boys again, eyes narrowing. “Did you break something?”

They blinked at him.

Dick frowned. “No– B, what?”

“Did someone crash the Batmobile?”

Tim cocked his head. “No?”

“Did–”

“Jesus Christ, B,” Jason groaned. “Is it so hard to believe we can get along for one hour?”

Bruce didn’t answer. Tim snorted.

“Fair.”

“Tt.”

Bruce looked them over for any hidden injuries one last time before he relented, turning back to Dick. “As long as your brothers don’t mind us taking up the space.”

Bruce’s sons vacated the mats, leaving just him and Dick behind. As usual, Dick was a skilled opponent. They hadn’t had much chance to spar recently, the only chance Bruce had to see him fight being out in the field, and he had certainly improved. He’d been doing this almost as long as Bruce after all, it only made sense that he’d be a formidable opponent.

Eventually, Bruce went in for a grapple. Dick was shorter than he was, and his build much smaller due to his background in acrobatics. It was good for him to practice escaping the grip of someone larger and stronger than he was. Only, Dick’s returning grapple was much sloppier than Bruce remembered it being. He frowned, easily tackling Dick down to the mats.

Like second nature, Bruce’s fingers immediately tickled near one of the openings Dick had left in his defenses. He got little more than a squeaky yelp out of Dick before he was tackled from behind with a roar. It was a move that Jason and Dick had used often in training to mess with him, back when Jason was Robin. Back then, it wound up with both boys on the mats being tickled to pieces. Unfortunately for Bruce, Jason was now much larger and had the benefits of League training making his steps far quieter. Bruce rolled with the attack with a grunt, trying not to crush Dick under their combined weight, and started grappling with Jason instead.

“Getting rusty with age, old man?”

Bruce scoffed, trying not to smile lest he scare Jason off. He couldn’t help but feel like this was progress between the two of them. “Not likely.”

Jason was almost as large as Bruce now and matched him well in strength too, but in the end, Bruce’s experience won out. Just as he started gaining the upper hand, however, Dick launched on top of the both of them. Then Tim. Then Damian. Somewhere along the way, Jason had managed to slip out from under him, adding himself to the top of the pile. Bruce collapsed down to the training mats, pinned under their collective weight.

“That was kind of a sloppy block, Bruce,” Tim said from where he was perched on one of Bruce’s legs.

“Yeah, B, come on,” Dick said. “A mugger isn’t gonna fight fair, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at his children. “Boys–”

Jason clucked his tongue. “And no one to save the big, bad Batman.”

Bruce knew where this was going. He probably should’ve expected it honestly, after all those years of tickling his kids to the ground. It certainly wasn’t the first time any of them had sought revenge either, simply the first time they had decided to work together as a group since Bruce was able to take them down easily on their own (or even in duos, he recalled Jason’s Robin days fondly). He was their father, of course he knew what tickle spots would have them cackling on the mats in seconds, tears in their eyes.

Unfortunately for them, though, Bruce had trained himself out of such reactions long ago – at least to an extent. He was well-versed in burying the sensation, blocking it out until it went away, and he could hold out for quite some time. Probably more than long enough for them to get bored. There was only one weak spot that he’d never been able to block out, but they would never–

Dick gave an evil grin from where he sat on one of Bruce’s arms, reaching out and fluttering fingers behind one of Bruce’s ears. On his other side, Jason chuckled under his breath and did the same.

–Damn it, they brought Alfred into it.

Bruce let out a strangled, high-pitched noise before clamping his lips shut. He shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the tormenting fingers, but his children were nothing if not tenacious.

“Come on, Bruce,” Dick goaded. “It’s so much better if you just let yourself laugh!”

“Yeah, B,” Tim said, his fingers resting on Bruce’s side, seemingly waiting for a signal. “A little laughter never hurt anyone, right?”

“Boys,” Bruce bit out, swallowing around the snickers trying to burst out of his throat. “Cut it out.”

“If you did not want to get tickled, Father, then you should not have gotten caught.”

He raised such little shits. His own revenge for this would be swift and ruthless. The boys didn’t stand a chance. But first, he had to free himself.

Bruce tried to twist his arms out from under Dick and Jason’s weight, the tickling not having weakened him yet thanks to him holding back his laughter. Jason scoffed and added another hand to his tickling against the side of Bruce’s neck, Dick quickly following suit. And unfortunately, with the fingers behind his ears already driving him insane, Bruce had little brainpower left to block out the sensation on his neck.

Bruce broke.

His laughter came out quick, sporadic, and embarrassingly high-pitched. He tried to jerk his head away from the tickling fingers, but with Dick and Jason on either side of him, it was impossible to escape. Not to mention, apparently his laughter was the signal his youngest were waiting for, as after a few moments they both dug into their own respective spots. Tim’s hands spidered and squiggled and dug in around his side and stomach, while Damian began squeezing the muscles just above his knee, tickling around and behind it. It took all of Bruce’s self control to not kick out and throw him off – Damian was still so small, Bruce didn’t want to accidentally hurt him.

His laughter turned loud and booming as his kids switched around their spots, tickling anywhere they could reach. It echoed throughout the training area and into the Cave proper, the bats screeching in discontent as the noise disturbed their slumber.

“Damn, old man, how did none of us know you were this ticklish?”

“There you go, B! Does that tickle? That’s what you get!”

“Sorry, Bruce, but you do kinda deserve this.”

Unsurprisingly, Damian did not add into the teasing. His tickling was vicious enough to make up for it – he clearly paid far too much attention to tactics whenever Bruce or Dick tickled him to the ground. Bruce was oddly proud.

To Bruce, it felt like years before the tickling finally tapered off, though in reality he knew it hadn’t been more than several minutes. His laughter had gone hoarse, his throat and vocal chords far more used to his fake Brucie laugh than anything this genuine for this long. There was sweat dripping down his face and neck, and his muscles ached – his upper body from trying to free himself from his eldest boys, and his legs from keeping himself tense enough that he wouldn’t kick out and injure his youngest two. And embarrassingly enough, tears had gathered in his eyes, though none had managed to fall free just yet. As his boys climbed off him, Bruce could do little more than lay there and gasp for air, pushing down any residual laughter as he tried to compose himself.

“I see the revenge was a success,” Alfred said from the edge of the training mats. There was a water bottle in his hand, chilled and dripping with condensation. Bruce reached for it gratefully.

“Traitor,” he murmured under his breath.

Alfred heard it anyway, based on the unimpressed eyebrow he raised at Bruce. “If I remember correctly, Master Bruce, Master Dick was not the only little boy who ran around asking to play Tickle Monster.”

Heat flooded Bruce’s face as his children burst into laughter around him. He chugged down the water he had been given to hide the fact that he had no retort for that. Still, there was no mistaking the fond smile on Alfred’s face.

After all, a father always knew what tickle spots would take down his kid in seconds.

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #tickletober 2024 #batman #.fic

72 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 19 days ago

Note

anything about criminal minds and tickle, like rossi headcanons, general headcanons, tickle fic

I don't have any fics finished, but I guess I can post some Rossi headcanons!

He's ticklish in a very lowkey way. Like he won't be hysterical, won't thrash, won't beg, but he'll squirm and chuckle and say things such like "okay, okay!" and "woah woah, enough of that" and it's very precious

Not a merciless ler, but rather lowkey there as well. He does it only because it's fun, and he realizes most people will only think it fun for the first few seconds/minutes

He loves observing tickle fights though. He thinks they can tell lots of things about a person. If they flee, fight back, laugh hysterically, giggle quietly etc etc. His favorite thing is leaning back and watching the team break into their usual chaotic tickle fights. He even goes as far as provoking them into happening (while still somehow watching from the sidelines)

His worst spots are the soft spots. Sides and thighs and the hollows of his arms, where most people don't touch anyway. Maybe that's why he's such a calm lee. He's not entirely aware of how sensitive he is

I can't imagine him being pinned and tickled tbh, but for the benefit of the headcanons, if he ever was to be in that position he would realize he's worse than he thought, but it takes a lot to get him to panic. Probably because if he ever was in that position it would be sexy/romantic/fun and therefore he would just be enjoying the moment

The one time Morgan threatens to pull him into their famous tickle fights he surprisingly finds himself walking away, scared without realizing why (it's because Reid shrieks when tickled and Rossi finds himself wondering if the BAU is filled with the most skilled ticklers in the world or something)

#headcanons #criminal minds

7 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 22 days ago

Text

Death Wish

AN: got fans come get your dinner! Here’s the Brienne x Jamie fic as promised! Idk how y’all survived this long without fluffy fics, this fandom is living off CRUMBS! But I wrote Jamie & Brienne flirting & teasing each other to fix it. Enjoy day 13!

Brienne would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't excited to see Jamie again. In their time together, he had really grown on her, as much as she tried to fight or deny the fact. The man had a decent wit to carry on an interesting conversation, and a dry sense of humor that always seemed to leave a smirk on her face.

But apparently, that wasn't good enough for Jamie Lannister.

They were alone in his room, or rather, his guest room, sharing a couple glasses of wine and nibbling on some cheese he'd brought with him from the south. He had just finished a joke, and when he didn't get the expected reaction, he couldn't help but pout, even if it was slightly for show.

"Am I just not funny to you?" he asked outright, when she merely huffed in amusement at his joke. She furrowed her brows in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she cocked her head to the side curiously.

"You never laugh at anything I say; well, you have, but more at my expense," he clarified, making her pause for thought. He had really been trying to amuse her all this time... She bit back a fond smile.

"If you're concerned I don't find you amusing, you can put your fears to rest," she assured. Jamie sat up a little straighter, leaning across the table.

"So you do like my jokes?" he pressed further, flashing a drunken, but no less charming, grin.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Yes, alright? Is that what you want to hear?" she caved easily.

"Then would it kill you to just laugh at them every once in a while? I'll even take a chuckle," he bargained.

""You're ridiculous."

"And you act as though humor will be the thing that does you in."

The glare she sent his way shut him up. "I'm simply not as," she paused in thought, "Forthcoming, with my amusement."

He blew her off, tossing his head back in annoyance as he waved a hand. "Excuses, excuses."

"Why do you even care?" she asked incredulously. This wasn't even important, and there were certainly better topics of discussion to focus on. She wasn't used to being the center of attention.

"Curiosity, I suppose," he shrugged. "I've never heard you laugh," he said, sounding surprisingly genuine. He was leaning against the table, chin propped up in his hands as he stared at her with big, green eyes. She quickly adverted her own gaze.

"It's nothing special," she insisted.

"Maybe, but I want to see for myself."

She wasn't expecting it. Honestly, it was the last thing she was expecting, and as such, she had lowered her guard. But his hand snuck under the table, giving her knee a few rapid squeezes, and she froze with a choked off gasp, leg jerking up and banging the table. Their plates clattered and tankards sloshed as she tried to will away the blush spreading across her cheeks.

"I knew it! I mean, I was hopeful, but I knew you just had to be ticklish!" he bragged, despite the fact that the only hand he had left was currently held in a vice grip. The bewildered look on her face was worth it.

"What are you talking about?" she hissed, looking him up and down as though he'd gone mad.

"Well if I can't get you to laugh the traditional way, this'll just have to do!"

"No, Jamie, I swear-" she cut herself off with a bark of laughter when he wiggled free from her grasp and immediately went back to tickling her knees. As hard as she tried, she couldn't contain her mirth, only getting louder as he continued.

"So knees are a good spot. Makes sense, you're all legs," he teased, spidering over her kneecap. She shrieked and doubled over, fist hitting the table as she tried to chase his hand away.

Finally, she caught him.

"Do you hahave a death wish?" she asked, panting as she caught her breath.

Jamie never looked so smug.

"Do you really have to ask?" he cocked his head, arching a brow playfully.

"Alright then. Your turn."

Suddenly, he changed his tune.

"Wait no, we can tahahalk about thihihis!" But it was already too late for that.

"What's there to talk about? I warned you, but you didn't listen," she pointed out. Her hands dug into his sides, and he immediately burst into shrill giggles.

"Thahat was barely ahaha warnIIIIING! Nohoho plehehease, not thehere!”

"I mean, honestly, you're lucky I didn't just take the other hand," she taunted, though she tried to appear annoyed.

"Ihif you dihihid, I'd tehehell everyone about how I- nohoho wahahait!" he cut himself off with bright, cheerful laughter as her hands lowered to knead his hips. He twisted and bucked as he tried in vein to stop her, but he didn't exactly mind the situation he found himself in.

Still, he needed to breathe.

"Ohohokay, I'm sorry, Ihi'm sohohorry!" he pleaded, grateful when he was given a break.

"Yeah?" she questioned, and he nodded frantically, sporting a giddy smile. "You sure?" More nodding. "I don't believe you."

"But- Brienne nohoho! Plehehease!"

"I should've done this ages ago! You would've been so much easier to deal with if I knew this was all it took to take down the dreaded Kingslayer." It was rare for her to show emotion, even more so if those feelings stemmed from affection. Yet here she was, actually teasing him.

Surely that had to count for something.

Her fingers were long and slender, able to work their way into any ticklish spot they could find. Jamie tried to hold out, he really did. Because it was downright embarrassing how right she was; just a few fluttering touches and well placed squeezes, and he was already tapping out.

"You wihihin, YOU WIN!" he blurted when her hands rested on his thighs. She arched a brow, staring down at him quizzically, but a fond smile tugged at her lips.

"Oh really? What do I win?" she asked nonchalantly as he continued to unravel.

"A-ahahanythihihing!" he blurted out, and Brienne had to bite back a laugh of her own. He was truly desperate, wasn't he? He had to be, if he was begging like this.

"Anything?" she questioned, drilling her thumbs against his hipbones. He let out a high pitched shriek before tossing his head back.

"W-within reason!" he quickly stuttered out before cutting himself off with an embarrassing snort. His face flushed a dark pink and he shook his head weakly, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

"Well then, that's not anything now, is it?" she asked in an even tone, softly pinching her way up his sides, his ribs, slowly traveling higher and higher. Jamie was squirming more the higher she went, babbling pleas pouring from his mouth.

"B-Briehehehenne nohoho! P-plehehease, nohot thehehere! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!" he screamed when she reached her destination, pressing his arms down to his sides. This only served to trap her hands there, leaving him no other choice but to laugh. Joyful cackling filled the air, and she knew he only had one hand to fight back, but he wasn't even trying.

Wait, did he like this? Then, a worse thought: was she liking this?

The new revelation was sudden and alarming, and she needed to put an end to this stupid little game he had started. But not without taking his offer first.

"Alright, I'll let you go. But you owe me a favor. Any favor, any time I need it, no questions asked no matter what," she had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over his hysterics.

"OHOKAHAHAY! YEHEHES I'LL DO IHIT! SOUNDS GREHEHEAT!"

Okay, at this point she seriously doubted he was even listening, but he agreed, so she tugged her hands free. He giggled and jerked back when her fingers wiggled one last time as she pulled away.

"Do you even know what you agreed to?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her smirk as she watched him recover.

"Something about a favor," he shook his head, dazzling smile still firmly in place. He doubted it would be leaving any time soon.

"Good thing I was bluffing."

Wait, what did he just say?

Brienne looked at him with wide eyes, barely having a second to brace herself before getting body slammed out of her chair.

"You see," he started as he struggled to pin her arms beneath his legs while straddling her waist, "I always win tickle fights." Most of the time. "So I have a reputation to uphold."

"You lying bastard! Now let me go!" she growled, trying to squirm her way to freedom. He was heavier than she expected, and it wasn't so easy to just throw him off. Or so she told herself.

"No, I don't think so. I only found one tickle spot!"

"And that's all you need to find," she said, trying to sound threatening.

"So there's more?" he asked, resting his hand on her waist. She went completely stiff, lips pressed into a thin line.

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

And then he struck, and as hard as she tried, she couldn't contain the laughter that flooded out of her.

"Feel free to yield at any time," he taunted, and Brienne regretted letting him off so easy. No way would she tap out from just a little tickling, she refused. But depending on how ruthless he proved to be, she might not have a choice.

She'll just have to weigh her options when she's desperate enough.

#jamie lannister #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #.fic

25 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 25 days ago

Text

One Last Laugh

AN: AAAAAH MY FIRST GOT FIC! I seriously had a blast with this one, Jon Snow deserves to be goofy & playful with his friends & Tormund just likes to be a fun lil menace. The angst really came outta left field with this one, but it’s still very cute & sweet! Hope y’all enjoy day 10!

Jon Snow couldn't possibly be more stressed. He knew they were severely unprepared for what was to come. They didn't have nearly enough men or weapons to defeat the nightwalkers, and he could sense the weight hanging on everyone's shoulders. The look in their eyes told him all he needed to know: every one of them was expecting to die. They'd look at their friends, not knowing which of them would go first. He would catch Sansa staring at him as though he were already gone.

He paced along the wall, grateful to be home, yet unable to truly appreciate the comfort. His mind was a swirling blizzard, clouding out all other thoughts until a voice spoke up from behind, rescuing him from his dark thoughts.

"There's a spider on ya."

Jon rolled his eyes at Tormund's failed attempt to scare him. He humored him and looked down at his clothes.

"Where? I don't see it."

He really didn't like the smile on his face...

"Right here!" Tormund yelled, suddenly reaching up to spider his fingers on the back of his neck. Jon made a strangled sound and whipped around to face him, staring at him with a bewildered expression and a spreading blush.

"The hell was that for?" he growled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"There was a spider, I'm tellin' ya!" he insisted with a playful smirk. "There it is!" he pointed before diving in to scribble against his side. He jerked away with a choked off laugh, leveling him with a harsh stare. Jon was thankful for the thick layers, but even that offered little protection.

"Fuckin' stop!" he snapped, snatching the offending hand by the wrist. He immediately regretted taking his anger out on him and let go, looking away. Tormund was different. He was crass, playful, and extremely bold, but above all else, he wanted to be entertained. He didn't hold it against him, but he had to admit it could grate on the nerves. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose in an effort to calm down. "Sorry, didn't mean to yell."

Tormund was grinning from ear to ear. "I fuckin' knew it," he said breathlessly before barking out a hearty laugh. "I knew it! You're ticklish!"

"I'm also very busy," he warned, making sure to keep a safe distance between them.

"With what? Standin' around staring at fuckin' trees? You looked downright miserable," he pointed out, stalking closer. Jon's pride refused to let him back away, and he stood a little taller, squaring his shoulders. If he took so much as one step backwards, Tormund wouldn't let him live it down.

"I was just thinking."

"Miserable thoughts, I'm sure."

Okay, that was a good one, Jon had to admit. He ducked his head with a shy smile, allowing a short chuckle to slip out. Tormund grinned wider and pointed a wagging finger at him.

"Aaah, I was right! So tell me Jon Snow, why do you like being so miserable?" he asked, closing the distance and slinging a heavy arm around Jon's shoulder.

"I don't," he balked at him, brows furrowed and body tense where he stood. Tormund sighed.

"Coulda fooled me," he shrugged.

"And I suppose you're happy right now?" Jon countered.

"I'm trying to be," Tormund huffed. He waited a beat, striking when he thought Jon's guard was down. He managed to dig his hand under his arm, drawing out a shocked peal of laughter.

"T-Tohohormund, stohop! Wehehe don't hahave time for thihihis!" Jon hated how quickly he crumbled, but he'd never been able to hold out for very long.

"Don't wanna laugh one last time before the end of the world?" he asked, adding his other hand to the fray.

Well duh, what kind of a question was that?

"Try telling aha johohoke!"

"None of you crows think I'm funny!" Tormund growled playfully, digging his fingers under his arms, fighting against the layers of clothing. "This is easier. And much more fun, don't you agree Snow?"

"Y-you're ahahacting like a chihild!" he half heartedly scolded.

"Oh yeah, because it's such a crime to have fun," he taunted.

Jon managed to twist around, snatching Tormund's wrists with both hands and pushing him away. His hair was tussled and he sported a faint blush, and for once, a genuine smile.

"You're bloody ridiculous, you know that?" he panted, trying to catch his breath.

"I've been told," he bragged in response. "And you're too scared to tickle a wildling," he challenged, yanking a hand free to shove his chest. His words were taunting, but his eyes looked... expectant? Hopeful? Like Ghost when he was begging for scraps.

Jon arched a brow, looking his friend up and down. "What?" he asked in disbelief, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. No way was he actually asking to get tickled. Then again, it was Tormund, and he was unpredictable like that. He's done crazier things. "Wait do you... want me to tickle you?" He just needed some clarification, and he's learned that it's best to be blunt with the free folk.

"Come on Snow, you act like you've never heard of a tickle fight," he teased, barking out a laugh as he bumped their shoulders together roughly.

"You call that a tickle fight?" he scoffed, unable to hold back a smile of disbelief. He remembered back when they were all just kids, how rowdy and rambunctious their playful spats could get. How one by one, they were all dragged into the fray no matter how hard you tried to avoid it. He had always tried to avoid it, unless of course, he had started it. But he normally didn't acted alone. If he struck first, Robb was almost always at his side, instigating and encouraging him every step of the way. Until he inevitably decided to turn on him and help one of their younger siblings. He knew what a real tickle fight was. "That's just tickling."

Tormund almost looked offended. "Because you didn't fuckin' fight back!"

"I didn't know we were playing this game," he hummed, stalking around him like a wolf.

He followed his movements with a skeptical eye, turning around to keep Jon in his sights. "Oho this ain't no game."

"You're right. It's more of a sport." He lunged forward, giving him no time for a counter attack before he swiped his feet out from under him. Tormund landed on his back with the air knocked out of him, still struggling for the upper hand, but that fucking crow was always quicker than he gave him credit for.

He grappled with Jon's hands, a determined look settled on his face despite his growing smile.

"That's more like it," he growled. Tormund grabbed his wrists, shoving them back, but he used his leverage to twist free. He flashed him a proud grin, "Remember, you asked for this." The bastard had the audacity to fuckin' wink at him. Ohoho, he was so in for it.

But Tormund didn't get very far in his retaliation before carefree laughter echoed off the stone walls, loud and unabashed. He threw his head back, writhing and kicking on the ground. One of his flailing arms managed to latch onto Jon's knee, squeezing like his life depended on it. It sure felt like it did.

Jon's leg jerked beneath the touch as he snorted out a laugh, ducking his head. Encouraged, Tormund's other hand shot down to grab his other knee.

"Noho, don't!" Jon barked out, drilling circles under his arms. Tormund yelled out a colorful string of curses, severely diminished by the surprisingly high pitched cackles that escaped him. He scratched blunt nails over Jon's kneecaps, and a choked off squeal filled the air. Jon wobbled on his perch as deep chuckles slowly morphed to frantic giggles. He snorted and fumbled to grab Tormund's hand, falling to the side.

As soon as he was freed, he rolled over to pin Jon to the ground. He put up a hell of a fight, and Tormund gave up on grappling with his hands. What was the point of a tickle fight if he couldn't fight back?

Not that he'd make it easy for him.

He scribbled his fingers over his belly, digging in at random to make his laughter turn to cackles.

Jon threw his head back, allowing himself a second to just let go and enjoy this fun, goofy moment with a good friend. He closed his eyes, and he was a child again, rolling on the floor between his siblings with a forced, yet still completely genuine smile on his face. He was chasing Arya and Rickon through the winding halls, wiggling his fingers and yelling threats. So many memories flooded back. Revenge for the perfect prank, cheering him up when he felt like an outcast, attacking him just for the sake of it...

It had all seemed so mundane back then, and dare he say, stupid at times. But he never realized how cherished those memories actually were to him until he came to The Wall, until he lost half his family. Never again would he see Rickon's sweet smile with shining dimples, or hear Robb's deep, boisterous laugh. He almost envied it.

Robb was loud and unashamed in everything he did, and he never bothered to try masking his laughter. Jon was the complete opposite, quiet and reserved at all times. All of his siblings liked to poke fun at it, begging him to let loose, and he always would brush them off. Even when giggling helplessly, his voice remained a fairly even tone. Only now does he realize all that annoyance and playful torment had been out of love. All they ever wanted for him was to feel free, and happy, and... loved.

He didn't appreciate it the way he should've back then. He wasn't about to do the same now.

Tormund would never say it, not in a million years, but he was scared. He could see it in the way he paced like a caged animal. He was nervous and twitchy, and he spent most of his time following Jon around aimlessly. But the most telling part were his eyes. It's always the eyes.

He was scared, and he needed a friend. He needed a laugh. To throw all his cares and worries away, if only for a moment.

He finally mustered up the strength to reach up and grab his hips, squeezing relentlessly. Tormond swore as he lost his balance and came crashing down on top of Jon. He wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, but he continued with his mission.

The wildling shrieked when fingers spidered their way over his ribs before diving beneath his arms. He snorted, which opened the floodgates for booming hysterics. Jon's smile was tinged with sadness.

Nothing was certain. They weren't guaranteed tomorrow, so they would make good use of the air in their lungs while they were still breathing.

One last laugh at the end of the world... Yeah. He could give him that.

#love <3 #game of thrones #tormund giantsbane #jon snow #.fic

28 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 25 days ago

Text

Evil Mutants

happy @tickletober! mutant power counts as a “favourite tickle tool” right?

inspired by raven’s ler potential, sibling moments in FC, and the shortcomings of “mutant and proud”

—

“Raven, look, I didn’t mean it like- Wait! Raven, be reasonable! We’re far too old for- No!”

Erik barely processed the words before Charles barreled into his chest, forgoing eye contact and explanation in favor of scrambling behind him. He stood there stunned until Raven followed, poised like a predator mid-pursuit.

“Really, Charles?” she scoffed when she saw them. “You think Erik’s gonna save you?”

Charles didn’t answer, though he did cling, grip tightening on the back of Erik’s shirt. He’d intercepted Erik right at the doorway, effectively using him like a blockade.

“Save him from what?” Erik finally asked, curiosity piqued by the odd exchange.

Mere moments later, Charles’ cufflinks betrayed him, commanded by his equally treacherous friend.

—

“You know you only have yourself to blame,” Erik remarked once Raven recounted his insult. An unintentional insult, to be sure, but an insult to mutants nonetheless. Charles likely would’ve disagreed, had he still been capable of doing so. It was, however, difficult to argue when one was nearly in hysterics.

“NohoHO!” He tried to twist away when Erik pinched along his left side. Unfortunately, it only brought him closer to Raven’s nails clawing at his ribs. “Wait! WAHAHAHA!” he protested when she thought to tug up his shirt, cackling at the raspberry she then blew against his unprotected skin.

“This wouldn’t be so bad if you had scales,” Raven commented, cheerfully petty.

“Thahat’s not fahahair!” Charles countered, once they’d eased up to let him breathe.

“She’s not wrong, though,” Erik chimed in, fingers tracing across Charles’ stomach. He smirked as it trembled beneath his touch. “This is an easily exploitable weakness.”

“Ehehevil! You’re bohoth ehevil!”

“And you’re too ticklish to be running your mouth. But if you really want me to be evil-“

“Raven!” Charles squeaked when her hand shifted.

“Oh, that’s diabolical,” Erik marveled as Raven showed off newly-feathered fingers. It was almost as if she’d put on a glove, scales past her wrist transformed into plumes.

“Don’t!” Charles’ vehemence suggested past experience. “Not in front of-!“ he started, then stopped, face warming.

Thoroughly charmed, Erik tugged his shirt higher. “Well, now I have to see this.” He turned back to Raven.

It was not Charles’ first time enduring the belly rub from tickle hell, but Erik’s presence, even passive, undeniably made it worse. Charles didn’t dare meet his eye, though he could sense the other man observing him. Were his giggles really that high-pitched? Was his face as red as it felt? If Raven tickled him to tears again, would his pride ever recover?

“Isn’t he cute?” Raven teased, grinning conspiratorially at Erik. Her feathered palm tickled across Charles’ torso, frond-like fingertips fluttering lightly.

“Adorable,” Erik agreed, drinking in Charles’ reactions. He held Charles’ cufflinks with ease, feeling him struggle against the metal.

Raven wiggled one feathery finger in Charles’ navel to hear him squeal, then lifted her hand once more, shifting through several different textures. “What do you think? Furry or fuzzy?”

Erik noticed Charles flinch. “Definitely fuzzy,” he replied, gazing straight into pleading blue eyes. Perhaps it was a tad sadistic, but Charles had earned Raven’s wrath on his own… and honestly, Erik was enjoying the sight of Charles helplessly flustered.

Meanwhile, Charles let out a screech when Raven’s hand inevitably returned. She’d only used fuzzy once before, the morning after one of his more drunken exploits. It’d sobered him up like nothing else, the mere threat of it becoming a warning, and now that she was doing it again…

He remembered he absolutely could not stand it.

“EHEEHEEK! R-RAHAVEN PLEASE!” He writhed beneath the maddeningly ticklish fuzz. Further down, his legs kicked, thumping desperately against the floor. “I’M SORREHEHEE!” he frantically apologized.

“That bad, huh?” Erik mused, recognizing the start of tears.

“This isn’t even his worst spot,” Raven revealed, brushing circles on his belly. “Actually… have I ever used my mutation there before?” Her fuzzed hand began drifting higher, up his side, then over his ribs.

“PleheHEASE! YOU DOHON’T HAHAHAVE TO-!”

He felt the fuzz beneath his right arm.

“Oh!” Erik startled when Charles yanked, nearly ripping his own shirtsleeve. He quickly adjusted the corresponding cufflink to re-secure Charles’ right wrist. “He’s fighting me much harder than before.” The ferocity was almost impressive.

As was the intensity of Charles’ laughter, rendering him fully incoherent.

It tickled. He couldn’t speak. It tickled so much. He couldn’t think. The fuzz bordered on itchy, or maybe prickly, terribly ticklish wherever it touched. Charles doubted it could get any worse… until he felt Raven’s other hand.

In that instant, the telepath panicked, finally summoning his own power.

ENOUGH.

Mentally compelled, Raven pulled back, while Erik released his magnetic hold. Erik’s eyes widened when he realized, while Raven tensed, no longer amused.

Charles noticed the new tension. “I… I didn’t… Sorry…” he wheezed. Eyes watering, he looked up at them, something fragile in his expression.

“For what?” Erik questioned before the mood soured. “Defending yourself with your mutation? Really, Charles, it’s about time.” Both siblings stared at him in shock.

“Are you really… not bothered by it?” Charles ventured hesitantly.

“You’re a telepath. It’s natural,” Erik reasoned. “Though I never thought tickling would force your hand.”

Relief and embarrassment warred within Charles as Erik smiled, lighthearted and playful. Raven watched the interaction, re-evaluating, before making herself relax.

“Like I said, he’s ridiculously ticklish.” She reached out to ruffle Charles’ hair. He batted her away with an indignant huff, though he couldn’t maintain his pout. Unease between them usually lingered, yet with Erik’s intervention, it’d dissolved like sugar.

“Yes, well… can’t help my nature.” He wobbled to the couch with Erik’s help.

Charles dropped onto the cushions with a sigh, allowing Erik’s arm to settle over his shoulders. Raven joined on Charles’ other side, leaning close like she’d done since they were children. They weren’t children anymore, and their relationship wasn’t what it’d once been, but he supposed that moments like this proved some things really never changed.

Before Charles could get too wistful, Erik interrupted the peace. “So, is this a common occurrence? Tickling Charles into submission?”

Raven perked up, devious, as Charles’ blush reignited. He thus became a captive audience to her extended recollections.

#screams into the abyss #x men #.fic

76 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 26 days ago

Text

(2024) TickleTober Day 9: Shock - I'm Helping

Fic Descript - Miles tries to use his electricity to help Pav's sore muscles, but when Pav starts giggling after each controlled shock, Miles puts his powers to a much more entertaining use.

~A/N - SDJKHAKSFJH SORRY I KINDA DROPPED THE BALL FOR A WEEK A FEW DAYS

I'M TRYING TO CATCH UP BUT IN THE MEANTIME HAVE THIS LITTLE ATSV FIC AS A SNACK

<3 much love

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @fullsongphilosopher | @inneedofsupervision

Masterpost Link

TickleTober Masterpost

Miles might as well open up his own physiotherapy clinic at this point.

After a (completely accidental) discovery that his mildest shocks could be used like a weird TENS unit [that's Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation if you were curious], a mighty hoard of spider-people swarmed him after every training session, anomaly mission, or particularly awkward sleep to fix their aching muscles.

Pavitr was the most recent to join the patient base.

"I've heard great things Miles, hope you won't disappoint." Pav groaned as he lay on the coach, arms flopped over his face. "I don't what I did yesterday but my abs feel AWFUL."

"Too much flexing in the mirror?" Miles jabbed with a smirk before resting his fingers on Pavitr's stomach.

He elected to ignore the subtle jump his friend made when his fingers made contact, putting it down to nerves. Understandable, it wasn't every day you asked your best friend to use his knockout-level shocking ability to ease some muscle cramps.

But once the current started bubbling into Pavitr's core, something else started bubbling out of it.

"You ok?" Miles raised an eyebrow, attention still focused on controlling how much shock he was administering.

Pav gave a groan in response, which only worried Miles further. Maybe he had started too strong? Pav was one of the smaller spider-people, he should probably ease up.

As Miles reduced his shock level though, Pavitr seemed to struggle even more to contain himself. His arms had moved from comfortably propping his head up to covering his face - with one hand gripping the couch cushions like his life depended on it.

Miles was completely perplexed. "Pav? What's going on?" He asked, shifting his hands higher on the kid's torso as a last ditch attempt to see if a different muscle might be easier for Pav to work with.

Apparently that did it, though.

Pavitr gave a noise somewhere between a screech and TV static, before locking his hands around Miles' wrists and bursting into giggles.

"Okokokokahahay Mihihiles wahahait!" Pav begged, curling in on himself with his hair falling over his face.

Miles grinned, completely abandoning his idea from 30 seconds ago to give up and let Pav leave. "Ohhh...."

"Shuhuhut uhuhup!" Pav cackled. "I cahan't help ihihit!"

"This whole time, you were just too ticklish to handle it?" Miles laughed, moving his hands lower again onto Pavitr's abs.

"I am not!" Pav shrieked at the movement, before straightening himself up to prove his point.

"You sure?"

In a stroke of evil genius, Miles switched tactics. He gripped around Pav's hips and sent pulsing shocks at random intervals through the bone.

The poor spiderman didn't stand a chance. Pav launched himself as far into the couch cushions as possible (so about 10cm from his initial position) with a squeal, hips bucking with every shock.

"NONONO Miles please I cAHAHAN'T HAHAndle ihit wAHAIT!" Pavitr gasped, his face redder than his suit.

"But Pav..." Miles said, mock-sympathy tainting his innocent face. "I'm helping."

#a love <3 #astv #.fic

85 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 28 days ago

Text

Heartstopper season 3 headcanons

Warning: potential season 3 spoilers!!

Mostly fluffy ones, and not too many for now since I realized I didn't have that many??

I'm a firm believer that Charlie and Tao tickle Isaac after realizing he's not just excluded due to their relationships (which he doesn't want anyway), but also excluded from all of the couple tickle fights

The tickle scenes between Tao and Elle were so cuuuute, but Elle asked if he's ticklish as if she didn't tickle him in season 2?? So my headcanon is that she always asks just to fluster him

Charlie secretly finds it really endearing that Nick is so into Marvel and is really sad he didn't get to see him in the Captain America costume (so obviously Nick has to wear it again)

Something something Nick tickles Charlie to make him return a sweater he really likes

Darcy's unused to the back of their neck being exposed after they cut their hair and Tara keeps curling her fingers over the skin to make them shudder and laugh

#i feel INSANEEEEEEE #heartstopper

43 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 29 days ago

Text

From season 3 ep 2 minute 16:50

#UTS SOOOO OVER FIR ME #elle #tao #heartstopper #.vid

227 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 29 days ago

Text

Day Six: Cuddles

Summary: Caleb is keeping watch and refuses to light a fire. It's a good thing that Mollymauk runs hot.

Hey folks. I'm like 50% sure I remember what I wrote in this. I'm very tired. Hope that y'all enjoy <33

Caleb had volunteered for the first watch. They weren’t far off the road, and the land surrounding them was relatively flat, so he figured that they should probably save the party members with heightened sight for when it was dark.

Not that it wasn’t getting dark already, but Caleb was going to take advantage of every last glimmer of sunlight before making himself light a fire.

He was getting better at the whole not freezing up thing. Some days were better than others, some days he could light the flame without even blinking.

He’s not entirely sure if those are the good days or the bad days.

Either way, as the sun set, Caleb couldn’t quite bring himself to utter the words so familiar it felt as though they were etched in his bones. So, as the air cooled and his friends—Were they his friends? Would they still be if they knew what he’d done?—dropped off to sleep, Caleb resigned himself to a few hours of straining his eyes looking for non-existent threats.

“Hello there, Mr. Caleb! How are you doing on this fine eve—Fuck you’re cold!”

Ah. Of course. Because why should Caleb be allowed to wallow in the shadows of his past on his own?

“Hallo, Mollymauk. Can I help you?”

Caleb can feel the warmth radiating off of the man as Molly sits down next to him. Not touching, which he appreciates, but close enough that it’s an option if he feels open to it.

“Well, I couldn’t let my favourite human sit out here in the cold all on his own.”

He offers Caleb a soft smile, leaning in just a bit and grinning fully when Caleb hesitantly closes the distance.

Then the words fully register, “Your favourite human?”

Mollymauk just laughs, “Yeah, don’t tell Beau.”

Silence falls over them, but it no longer weighs down on Caleb. In fact, it’s nice enough that he positions an arm over Molly’s shoulder, attempting to subtly soak in the warmth he radiates like a furnace.

In a rare moment of letting Caleb get away with not talking about his feelings, Molly simply slips his arm under his ratty coat and rests a head on his shoulder, making sure to not stab Caleb in the face with his horns.

This is nice.

“Soooooooo. Why exactly haven’t you lighted a fire? You’re basically an ice cube at this point.”

And he takes it back.

“Not that I’m not a fan of the whole brooding in the dark thing that you have going on. And, you know that I’m always down for a snuggle,” He waggles his eyebrows, “But I’m not a fan of you dying from hypothermia.”

He definitely takes it back.

“I’m just tired, Mollymauk. I don’t have the energy to maintain a concentration spell right now.”

And it’s true. Caleb is tired and he doesn’t have the energy to maintain a concentration spell right now. It doesn’t matter that it would be practically effortless.

He really doesn’t care if Mollymauk believes him or not, which he definitely does not, but Molly just shrugs and pulls him a bit closer, so Caleb lets himself relax.

Just a little bit.

“Well, it’s almost time for Fjord and Jester to take over, and I know how averse you are to getting some real rest. So,” Molly’s arm tightens around him and Caleb is really starting to regret letting his guard down, “I have an idea to warm you up and tire you out. What do you say?”

“Nein, Mollymauk. That is completely unnecessa—AHARY! Molleheheheheymauk!”

The hand that had been resting so unobtrusively on Caleb’s side suddenly clawed in and the resulting jolt sent him flying into Molly’s lap.

Which did not help his situation.

“Awwww Caleb! You could have told me that you just wanted to cuddle.”

Caleb wished that he could say that he couldn’t hear Molly’s teasing remarks over his desperate attempts to keep quiet, but there was no such luck to be had.

He starts to panic when Molly’s hands creep upwards, because there is no chance that he won’t wake up everyone else if Molly can get at his ribs.

“Helloooooooo! We’re here to relieve youuuuuuu!”

Scheiße. Jester absolutely cannot see this.

With some truly impressive maneuvering and at least two pulled muscles, Caleb is out of Molly’s hold and up on his feet.

“Goodnight! Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb stumbles backward, glancing over at where Jester and Fjord are walking towards them, “I find that I am tired and I’m going to sleep. Goodnight!”

He waves over his shoulder and receives a very enthusiastic wave and a two-fingered salute in return before crawling into his bedroll.

After a few moments, Caleb feels a warm hand brush what he’s sure is a rat’s nest of hair out of his face.

“Goodnight, Mr. Caleb.”

Yeah, maybe these people would be his friends.

#i have never seena single famn ep of cr but i love this #THIS HAS BROKEN FANDOM CONTAINMENT !!!!#caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #critical role #.fic #tickletober 2024

18 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 1 month ago

Text

i am kinda sad that i wasn't able to get to tickletober this year because of how busy i've been but i know i can do squealing Santa lol. (and my goal is to do tickletober next year, or try to at least)

#maybe ill do a prompt later this month?

0 notes

blueberrygiggles · 1 month ago

Text

Under the Table

A/N - Day 3 of Tickletober! Here is Prank, with Aizawa and Yamada. I hope you all enjoy.

Word Count: 1,264

Pranking your grouchy husband never ends well. This was the realization Yamada had made the second he had heard Aizawa yell at him from across the apartment. By the tone of his voice, it did not seem that Aizawa appreciated Yamada replacing all his outfits with vibrant colored jumpsuits. Of course, Aizawa’s actual attire was hidden in a bin under their bed, but this wasn't known at the time, nor was it the point. The point was that Yamada was screwed.

Yamada needed to hide; fast. Leaving their apartment was a bad idea, the students would see him. Aizawa was too fast to just run from, he'd be caught in seconds. He needed to hide. Of course, he knew that hiding was just prolonging the inevitable, however it was certainly the safest option. Perhaps Aizawa would tire himself out before finding him. A foolish thought, really, but that's all Yamada could rely on at this very moment.

With Aizawa in their bedroom and Yamada in the kitchen, there was a limited number of options for him. Best case scenario would have been Eri’s room as hiding under a mountain of plush toys would be a piece of cake. However, Aizawa was bound to see him running through the living room with their bedroom door leading straight into the main living space. This also removes the possibility of hiding in one of the bathrooms. The kitchen pantry was a good option, but predictable. Under the table, however, was the next best thing.

Slipping under the tablecloth as swiftly and silently as he could, Yamada tucked himself against the wall on the far side of the small table, avoiding the three wooden chairs. Hugging his legs, Yamada rested his chin on his knee and stared at the warm colored tablecloth. It was time to wait and listen.

Aizawa could be silent when stalking villains or, in this case, hunting down his husband. Typically, when Yamada pranked Aizawa, it was when the underground hero had a deadline he had to meet. Today, he had nothing except for his eventual nighttime patrol, which wasn't for another few hours. Alas, instead of just grumbling his displeasure, he was allowed to have some fun with it today.

Heart threatening to pound through his ribs, Yamada covered his mouth with one hand, attempting to steady his breathing by only breathing through his nose. A thud from the other room caused his body to recoil; the couch had been lifted and dropped carelessly. Biting his lip to prevent a chuckle from escaping, Yamada could tell that Aizawa was in a playful mood. Normally, Aizawa would silently roam around the apartment like a cougar stalking his prey, but not today. His husband was toying with him, allowing this game of cat and mouse to drag on for longer than normal.

From there, Yamada listened to his husband's soft footsteps as he searched around the living room. Next, the sound of a door creaking open told Yamada that Aizawa was now in Eri’s room. The young girl was with Mirio that afternoon, the two of them went off to see a stage production of some kind. Yamada didn't quite remember what they were seeing, but Eri’s enthusiasm for it had definitely been a highlight of his week. With Eri gone, Aizawa had to actually look around her room, instead of just asking whether or not Yamada was in there. Eri was a wildcard in their relationship, her loyalty being a coin flip on who she would side with any given day for something like this. Though she was never the best liar. Even if she were home and she had been siding with Yamada, Aizawa could see right through her poker face. Granted, her poker face looked a lot more like a lopsided grin and delightful bubbly giggles, so a person didn't have to be a trained pro hero to tell if she was lying or not. At least she was adorable.

Not too long after he entered, Aizawa slammed the door shut. The hairs on the back of Yamada’s neck rose as an invisible claw of anticipation scratched down his spine. He knew where his husband was going next, and he knew this game was about to be over.

Aizawa padded softly into the kitchen and stood in the doorway for a minute. Yamada may not have been able to physically see him, but he could certainly imagine what his husband was doing: eyes shut, and breath held, all focus on his sense of hearing. The two men let out a breath at the same time, Yamada wanting to be as in sync as possible so Aizawa couldn't hear him.

Walking over to the pantry, Aizawa swung the door open and stared into the small room. Letting out a huff, Aizawa stepped into the pantry and grabbed a box, some sort of snack from what Yamada could hear by the contents within. He listened as Aizawa closed the door and began to walk toward the table, with his blood freezing in his veins the second his husband pulled back one of the chairs, letting it squeal across the tile floor. Sitting down with a grunt and the sound of his back popping, Aizawa began to eat the dry cereal by the fist full.

“Want some?” Aizawa said with his mouth full, reaching his hand beneath the table with a handful of Cheerios. He chuckled to himself when he felt Yamada's soft fingers gingerly take the offered food. “Want me to wreck your shit here or in the bedroom?”

“Here's fine,” Yamada swallowed the last piece. “Eri isn't gonna be home for a while.”

“Sounds good. You done eating?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Aizawa replied, then quickly stood up and pushed the table aside, revealing his hiding husband. Smirking down at the blond man, Aizawa lovingly looked him over, admiring how his long hair framed his face and how his glasses always fell down to the top of his nose when he was seated.

“Like what you see?” Yamada waggled his eyebrows as he flashed Aizawa a warm smile.

“Oh, yes I do,” Aizawa said before pouncing.

Yamada didn't struggle whatsoever when his husband pinned him to the floor, both wrists held in one strong hand above his head. Situating himself on Yamada's hips so they were both comfortable, Aizawa’s irises reddened like embers alighting from coals. His raven black hair lifted, raised as if gravity had ceased to exist. Quirk fully activated, Aizawa attacked.

Laugh squeaky and of a higher pitch, Yamada threw his head back as his husband clawed into one armpit, then the other, switching it up randomly to get the best results. Enjoying this technique for a while, Aizawa decided to switch it up and bring his hand down to lift Yamada's shirt, rolling the fabric up to the middle of his chest.

“Shouta,” Yamada warned, though the undertone of his voice was all but serious.

“What's wrong ‘Zashi?” Aizawa teased, his voice low and gravely.

Before Yamada could answer, Aizawa pressed his face into his husband's belly and nuzzled the soft skin with his scruff. Cackling and squealing, Yamada thrashed beneath his husband, thankful that while Aizawa couldn't exactly see anything, his eyes were still open enough that his quirk was still working. Without having to be concerned about his quirk accidentally activating and breaking things in their apartment, Yamada was able to freely laugh and be playful with his husband. And they had all the time in the world, it felt like, so why not just enjoy their time together?

#tickletober 2024 #bnha #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #.fic

46 notes · View notes