#crob makes ONE good mistake

[liliavalley]

welp

[asters-galaxy]

Sugary Sweet Rivals

(You remember the other CROB fanfics I was talking about? Here’s one of them! It’s short, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but it’s here and I’m posting it because I can. More to come, hopefully!)

Warning: This is a tickle fic, and I run a SFW tickle-themed blog. NSFW are more than welcome to read, but please do not reblog if you are primarily kink themed blog. Thank you for respecting my boundaries.

Fandom: Cookie Run: Ovenbreak

Ship: SourBonbon (Semi-romantic)

Characters: Switch!Sour Belt, Switch!Chocolate Bonbon

Words: 1367

Potential Warnings: None

Bonbon was starting to think that moving in with her biggest rival was a mistake.

Now, there was nothing really wrong with Sour Belt -- she was generally friendly to just about everyone she met, and there was no denying that she was both a wonderful marketer and very skilled in her field of work, despite what Bonbon thought of her...interesting fashion sense.

Unfortunately, both their styles of fashion design and their behaviors didn’t quite mix.

While both were known for overworking themselves, Bonbon always started with a plan. No matter how hectic her schedule got, she always completed everything in order, as it was meant to be, knowing exactly how her clothes were going to turn out in the end. Sour Belt, on the other hand, grabbed some rolls of material that looked good together and started cutting. She made things up as she went, seemingly not caring about the delicate nature of fashion design. And somehow, by sheer luck, her clothes turned out to be as successful as Choc’au Latte’s brand. It was frustrating, to say the least.

Today, Bonbon was working on a furry jacket. She’d already cut out all of the pieces from a soft, white roll of fur (faux fur, naturally), and she was using her sewing machine to carefully stitch the larger seams together. She had a checklist right next to her on her desk, and after the bulk was finished, she would hand stitch a majority of the embellishments. It was meant to be an accent jacket, coupled with a black linen dress that she had already finished a week prior. Just on the other side of the room, Sour Belt was also working -- her desk was messy and full of stray threads, and she had multiple zany-colored swatches pinned to the wall “for reference.” She was making...something. Her workspace was in such disarray that Bonbon couldn’t even see what she was sewing together.

After what could have either been five minutes or an hour, Bonbon heard her rival stand up and get away from her workspace. Great. Another aggravating thing about Sour Belt was that she eventually grew bored while working. This wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t result in her tormenting Bonbon to get rid of that boredom.

“Heyyy,” the young designer called out, stepping over to Bonbon. “What’cha doin’?”

“Sewing,” the other answered flatly, trying to focus on her jacket. She often refused to give any more details -- her rival didn’t seem like the type to steal ideas or designs, but one could never be too careful in the fashion industry.

Sour Belt frowned. “Well, I can see that. You’re always sewing.”

“And you’re always interrupting me for your own reasons.”

There was a huff, and Bonbon tried to hide a smirk. She finished sewing the bulk of her jacket together, as planned, and set it aside before turning off her sewing machine. She stood up and draped it onto the mannequin displaying the complementary dress. It was beautiful, but it definitely needed some detailing.

“Don’t ignore me, Bonbonnnn,” Sour Belt whined, and the other designer jolted as a pair of arms wrapped around her. She was used to Sour Belt getting a little physical, and it didn’t make her uncomfortable in the slightest, but it almost always startled her initially.

“I’m not ignoring you,” she stated calmly. “I’m doing my work.”

“Well, be done with your work and talk to me!” Sour Belt pouted, jabbing Bonbon in the ribs. The street-fashion designer was planning to keep annoying her rival until something interesting happened -- she could talk for hours.

When the classical stylist flinched, however, there was a pause.

“...Sour Belt.”

“Yeah, Bonbon?”

“Get your hand off of me.”

There was a low chuckle, followed by another, gentler jab to the ribs. “Y’know, I don’t think I will. Am I hurting you at all?”

Bonbon inhaled deeply, debating between lying or taking the fall. She decided on the latter. “No, but I--”

“So you’re ticklish then,” Sour Belt interrupted, smirking in a way that gave Bonbon some very mixed emotions. She tried to maintain a straight face, not letting her embarrassment show.

“That’s not what I said. You’re just assuming things at this point.” She knew that it wasn’t going to work -- Sour Belt was stubborn -- but it was worth a shot if it meant saving her pride. She could be equally as stubborn if she wanted to be. For a few moments, Sour Belt continued to poke her in the ribs and side, and Bonbon continued to maintain the illusion of apathy. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up, but she was going to try.

Then, without much warning, both hands were shoved into Bonbon’s armpits, and the classical designer shrieked before bursting into laughter.

“A-ha! I knew it!” Sour Belt shouted triumphantly, scribbling at Bonbon’s underarms with a gleeful and toothy smile on her face. She seemed to be absolutely delighted at the sight of her rival’s serious demeanor shattering.

Bonbon, on the other hand, was trying in vain to regain some form of elegance. She covered her mouth to hide her smile, but it did nothing to muffle her laughter. Her face was flushed cherry red, and her knees were growing weak -- she eventually sank to the ground slowly. Sour Belt followed her, pulling her competitor into her arms and sporadically clawing at Bonbon’s now-exposed stomach.

“Uhuhunhahahand mehehehe!” Bonbon protested as though she weren’t leaning into her rival’s arms. Sour Belt simply laughed along with her, switching quickly between Bonbon’s entire torso and tickling every little sensitive spot that she could reach.

“Why should I? You seem to be enjoying it -- you’re laughing, aren’t you?~”

Bonbon groaned through her mirth and tried to cover her face with both of her hands. She brought them down with a squeal as Sour Belt began gently pinching up and down her ribs. “N-nahahat-- Nohohoho!”

“Aww, look at that! Your face is so redddd!~”

This was humiliating. Not bad, per say, and Bonbon wasn’t angry at all, but she was certainly embarrassed beyond belief. “S-shuhuhut uhuhup!” she demanded, saying something much more brash than her usual polite demeanor. “Ihii’ll gehet you f-for thihihis!”

“Heh, I’d like to see you try~” Sour Belt taunted, going back to spidering along her rival’s stomach. She soaked in the victory, listening to sweet and beautiful laughter...and then had a rude awakening as she was shoved back and pinned down. “W-wh-- Hey!!!”

Sour Belt’s frustration was forgotten almost immediately -- Bonbon was on top of her, pinning her and staring down with dark red eyes. Her face was still painted a lovely (and adorable) shade of scarlet, and she was out of breath. Sour Belt found her own cheeks growing warm.

“U-um...what’re you up to?” the street-fashion designer asked with a gulp. Her rival did not answer. She simply leaned in towards Sour Belt’s neck slowly, filling the room with a sweet kind of tension that neither of them could really put into words. Sour Belt closed her eyes, bracing for a soft sensation and letting herself relax.

And then the tension was broken as Bonbon simultaneously squeezed her sides and blew a raspberry onto her neck.

“AhahaHAHA! WAHAHAIT!” Sour Belt cackled, squirming and playfully pushing against Bonbon’s shoulders. The classical designer continued her onslaught of squeezing and raspberries, leaving her rival in absolute stitches. “NAHAHAT THAHAHAT!”

Bonbon paused for a moment. “Not that?” she asked teasingly. “But you did it to me. I told you I would get you back for it -- what seems to be the problem?” Taking advantage of Sour Belt’s fashion sense for once, Bonbon moved down a little bit and blew another raspberry, this time onto Sour Belt’s stomach (which was exposed, since the seamstress wore crop tops constantly). This resulted in a yelp and more entertainingly loud laughter. Bonbon did not intend to let this humiliation slide anytime soon, nor did she intend to let Sour Belt go until she was tired or uncomfortable with the situation. She was going to have her revenge to the fullest.

Perhaps moving in with her rival wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.