#deh ticklefic

[ticklishraspberries]

Giggly Glam (Connor, Zoe)

Summary: Connor buys himself makeup, then realizes he has no idea how to do makeup. Zoe tries to help. (Take this Connor lives and gets to heal his relationship with his sister thing I wrote. No one asked me to, I just have an obsession with this stupid fandom. Enjoy it or else /lh.)

He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to buy it. He’d only gone into the beauty aisle to buy a new bottle of black nail polish, and had somehow ended up picking out a few cheap makeup products. It was a completely impulsive, stupid decision, and if Connor had an ounce of sense, he’d turn back around and return it all.

But he didn’t. Instead, he decided to use it as an olive branch, or whatever the saying was. You see, almost dying had sort of knocked some sense into his head. Well, that plus some therapy, and seeing the looks that Zoe kept shooting him across the table at dinner.

So, maybe when he got back from the hospital, he’d made a whole big scene about how sorry he was for the way he’d acted towards her, towards them all, and maybe he’d cried harder than he had in years, and clung to his mom like a scared child on the first day of school.

Yeah, looking back, that had been pretty embarrassing. But it had shattered the layer of ice between him and his family, which he supposed was a good thing. He just hadn’t worked up the courage to dip into that murky water again, afraid he’d do something stupid like cry again, or make it worse by clamming up and telling his sister to fuck off like he would have a few months prior.

But a gift? It was an olive branch, he supposed. Not an apology, not an explanation, but it was something. So when he got home, he went right up to Zoe’s door and knocked.

“Come in,” she replied, and she looked surprised when it was Connor who entered, not her mother. “What do you want?”

Her tone wasn’t overly harsh, just a tad annoyed, mostly confused. Connor cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, I got you something. At the store. I don’t know if you even really wear makeup, but I just…Yeah. Here you go.”

He placed the bag on her dresser, and turned to leave, but paused when she spoke.

“Makeup?” Zoe asked, standing up off of her bed and walking over, snatching up the bag and looking inside. “Thanks, I guess. I don’t wear it that much, but it’s good to have.”

Connor nodded. “Cool.”

“Why though?”

“Why what?”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “I can’t remember the last time you got me a gift. At least, one that wasn’t clearly bought by mom, who put your name on the label. So why?”

Connor shrugged. “I mean, honestly, I bought it on impulse and realized I was never gonna use it, so I gave it to you. Not very thought out, I guess. Do I get points for trying?” he asked, his tone light although there was a pit of anxiety in his stomach. He still wasn’t used to talking to Zoe like this; normal, casual conversation wasn’t really his forte.

“You got it for yourself?” Zoe asked. “Why wouldn’t you wear it?”

“Cause I get called gay at school for wearing nail polish, I think eyeliner would be pushing my luck,” he replied. When she didn’t seem amused, he continued, “Plus, I have no idea how to use any of it.”

“Where do you think I learned it? It’s not some inherent skill that comes with being a woman. Look up a tutorial online or something,” she said. “Fuck what kids at school think.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he shot back. God, could he not get through one conversation without being an asshole? He opened his mouth to apologize, but it got stuck somewhere in his throat and wouldn’t come out. It was like every time he tried to swallow his pride, he fucking choked on it.

Zoe just rolled her eyes. “I was gonna offer to just show you myself, but if you’re gonna be a dick, I’ll just keep my secrets to myself.”

“What do you mean show me? I’m not just gonna sit here and watch you do your own makeup,” he said.

“I could do it for you. I mean, I’m not great at it, but at least you’d get an idea of what it’s supposed to look like. And if you don’t like how it looks, I’ll keep the makeup and we can pretend this never happened.”

Connor thought about it for a moment, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I guess. Uh, thanks. And sorry for, um, snapping at you.”

“Whatever,” Zoe replied, but she had a small smile on her face. Almost fond. “Sit on my bed. Wait, but take your shoes off first.”

He obeyed wordlessly, feeling incredibly strange. Zoe’s room had changed a lot since they were kids. The walls that had once been covered in stickers of flowers and photos of boy band members were now decorated much more tastefully, although Harry Styles was still making an appearance. Her twin bed had been upgraded to a full-sized one, and it was in the middle of the room rather than pushed against the wall like it had once been. Her sheets were no longer Disney princess themed, but rather soft blue ones with stars on them.

As he sat down, Zoe began peeling plastic off of each makeup product: A stick of black eyeliner, and a palette of four eyeshadows, in varying shades of purple, and a tube of mascara.

“Just your eye makeup, or do you want a full glam?”

Connor furrowed his brows at her, chuckling. “Full glam? Nah, I’ll pass.”

“Okay, okay, fine.”

She placed the products on the bed, then went back over to her dresser to grab a cup of brushes. “Your first mistake was thinking that the little wand this eyeshadow comes with would be enough,” she said. “You’re lucky that mom keeps buying me sets of brushes for every holiday.”

“Every holiday?”

“Every. Holiday. Three Hanukkahs in a row, two birthdays. So many brushes.”

Connor snorted. “I guess she thinks you wear ‘full glam’ every day,” he said, putting air quotes around the phrase she’d used, which made her chuckle.

She sat down on the bed beside him, her tongue poking between her teeth as she thought. “Okay, I think I’ll do your eyeshadow first…Just close your eyes and try to sit still,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, shutting his eyes as he was told, and he heard her shuffling around with the products.

After a moment, he could feel her hand hovering in front of him, and braced for impact, ever so dramatic. A somewhat flat, stiff brush touched his eyelid, and his face twitched despite his best efforts. He got it under control quickly, the sensation surprisingly easy to get used to.

“So, I’m putting the lighter color on your lid right now,” Zoe explained. “And after, I’m gonna use the darker one sort of, like, around it.”

“Sounds fancy,” he replied.

Zoe snorted, using her other hand to hold the side of his face, keeping him in place. Connor couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so close to his sister, or shared this much physical contact with her. It was weird, but it somehow felt natural, still so familiar. Her fingertips were rough from guitar string scars, and her hands were steady.

He heard her switching the brush, presumably also switching the color. The heel of her hand pressed against his jaw as she continued.

The brush was much fluffier than the last, and she was doing it so lightly, it felt like an annoying itch, and he scrunched his face up on instinct.

“Stay still,” she reminded him.

He huffed, but attempted to comply. He managed to keep his composure for a bit, but as the brush stroked against his face, turning the outer corner of his left eye the striking color of artificial grape candy, the feeling turned from an annoying itch to a feather-light sensation.

Connor couldn’t help it; he giggled, turning his face away from her.

“Stop moving!” Zoe said, retracting her hand.

“I can’t help it!” he replied. “It…feels weird.”

She ignored him and attempted to continue, but when the brush touched his skin again, he giggled again.

“Does it tickle?” Zoe asked, sounding almost incredulous. “There’s no way your face is ticklish.”

He felt his cheeks turn hot, and scowled. “Shut up,” he said, knowing he had no argument that would convince her that she was wrong.

Zoe’s lips twitched.

“Shut up. It’s not funny.”

She lost it, starting to giggle herself. “I’m sorry, but it is funny.”

Normally embarrassment felt white-hot, a rage-inducing humiliation that sent him running for the hills or taking out his anger on whoever was closest, a pit in his stomach. He was expecting that feeling to surface at that moment, but all he could feel was the color in his face and Zoe’s gaze on him.

Maybe it was because there were very few things his sister hadn’t witnessed: She knew him when he was still a gap-toothed child that was afraid of bugs, or when he grew into a pre-teen with braces and a constantly cracking voice.

So, instead of freaking out, he just glared at her half-heartedly. “Whatever.”

“Are you gonna survive if I continue?” she asked, grinning.

He rolled his eyes but nodded, bracing himself for the brush to return. He managed to sit still for the rest of the process, perhaps by sheer willpower or because Zoe was using a firmer touch to spare him some dignity.

“I’m kind of terrified of poking your eye out if I do your mascara,” she said to fill the silence. “Or eyeliner. I’ve never done it on anyone else.”

“Very reassuring,” he muttered.

All the brushes were away from his face, but he kept his eyes shut in case she went back, which was apparently a mistake, as Zoe had taken his sass as a chance to poke him in the ribs, making him flinch and huff out a laugh.

“I can’t believe I forgot you were ticklish,” she said.

“Please forget again,” he replied. “And, if I remember correctly, you are too. I’m not above revenge.”

Zoe laughed. “Okay, truce. But it’s nice to see you smile again.”

The sincerity of her statement made Connor freeze up, just for a moment. He was wading into foreign territory enough, but genuine conversation was almost too much. “Uh, thanks. I think?”

“Sorry, I just—You know, it’s just been a while since…” she trailed off.

“I know.”

She nodded, twirling the eyeliner pencil between her fingers. “So, do you trust me to not blind you?”

“...Not really, but fuck it.”

It turned out that Connor really rocked the color purple, and he loved the way that black eyeliner looked on him, and Zoe offered to show him how to do it himself next time.

He left his sister’s room and walked down the hallway with a giddy feeling in his stomach, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. It occurred to him that he had really missed his sister, no matter how hard he’d ignored it in the past. They still had a lot to work on, but Connor felt like something healed in them both that day, and it was all thanks to an impulsive purchase.

[secretly-tword-obsessed]

One Spot

Promoted by an anon!

Summary: Jared is going through a tough time, but Evan and Connor think they can help!

Set in an AU where Connor never died and he, Evan and Jared became best friends!

“Oh, uh, hi Zoe”, Evan muttered, as Zoe stepped out of her bedroom and into the hallway. Zoe just smiled at him: “Hey Evan”. Being best friends with Connor meant spending quite a lot of time at the Murphy’s house, which was great in theory, but seeing Connor’s younger sister Zoe so often was rather overwhelming. Evan had a huge crush on Zoe, but he put so much effort into making sure that she wouldn’t find out that it was kind of draining.

Jared, the third member of their little friendship group, would often tease Evan about it. Of course, it was only light and friendly teasing, but sometimes it was just too much for Evan. 

But Jared was late that Thursday afternoon, so he hadn't witnessed that little interaction and therefore couldn’t tease Evan about it later.

Jared being late wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. The dude often arrived a few minutes late to the boy’s little hang-sessions, wether they be at the park or at one of the boy’s houses. 

Evan knocked on the door to Connor’s room, making the long-haired teen chuckle: “You know you don’t have to knock every time you wish to enter my room, right?”. 

Evan slowly opened the door, finding Connor at his desk, drawing in his sketchpad. He paced over to where Connor was sitting and looked over his shoulder to see a beautiful pencil-drawing of a countryside landscape laid out before him. 

“Thats nice”, Evan stated. “I know”, Connor replied. He than ripped a piece of paper out of the book and handed it to Evan: “Here, you can draw something while we wait for the Kleinman to get here”. 

Evan took it and grabbed one of Connor’s heavy books to rest it on, and leaned his back against Connor’s bed and got to work.

Evan often lost track of time when he was drawing, but Connor certainly didn’t, and he started to get a bit confused when Jared still hadn’t arrived after ten minutes. 

He whipped his phone out of his jean pocket: “Jared?”. Evan jumped at the break of silence, having been completely lost in his drawing of a pine tree forest. He wasn’t a very good drawer, but he really loved drawing, so it didn’t really matter. 

“Jared, whats up, your like fifteen minutes late bro!”

Jared said something Evan couldn’t make out from the other end of the phone. 

“Wow, that’s really weird bro”, Connor said, “I guess I’ll see you in five”.

“What happened?”, Evan asked as Jared put his phone down and stood up to look at him. “Jared completely forgot that we had planned this!”, Connor exclaimed. 

That was very strange, Evan thought, Jared was always late but he was never forgetful. Something big must have happened that distracted him.

Evan and Connor seemed to be on the same page, as Connor said: “I think something must have gone wrong, we can ask him when he gets here”.

Five minutes later, Jared arrived, “WASSUP PRICK-HEADS!”. Typical Jared. 

“What we’re interested in’, Connor said, “Is whats up with you”.

“Ah”, Jared said, “I just forgot because a pretty shitty thing happened with bullies today, I got distracted”. 

Evan patted the side of Connor’s bed, gesturing for Jared to come sit there, “Oh, buddy, what happened?”.

Jared sighed, sat next to Evan, and looked down, “Ugh, those dicks. They just said some nasty stuff about - about-”.

Jared started shaking. This must have been pretty serious. Connor sat on the other side of him, and Evan wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

Jared took a deep breath in, “They said some nasty stuff about my parents’ divorce. And about how it was probably my fault and shit. And I just-”. Jared took another breath in, his eyes getting a little wet. 

Jared was the toughest guy that the other two knew. He could literally be beaten up by a whole gang and come out laughing about it smugly! But his family was something very close to his heart, and we was still struggling to get over the big split-up.

“I just, I wanted it to stop, and they kept saying things and I...”, Jared rested his head on Connor’s shoulder, “They really hurt me guys. I know it sounds pathetic but-”.

“Nononono, it doesn’t sound pathetic at all”, Connor informed the glasses-wearer, “We all have things that we hold close to our hearts”. Connor smirked and added, “Like Evan with Zoe”.

Evan blushed, “Shut up! At least I’m not the one with a crush on a Schuyler sister!”. “Hey”, Connor defended, “It’s not my fault that Lin hired such a hot actor to play Angelica!”. 

“Actress”, Jared corrected the man who his head was rested upon, “A female actor is an actress”. “Oh Jared, your so old fashioned”, Connor said teasingly. 

Jared sat up straight, “Thanks guys, for cheering me up I mean. You really make a difference”. 

Connor cracked a grin: “Oh my dog! Jared saying something nice! I thought I’d never see the day!”.

“Oh my dog! Connor making an educated insight, I thought I’d never see the- HEY!”. Connor had reached his hand under Jared’s arm and poked him there. “Wow, I thought I’d never see the ‘hey’ either”, Connor teased.

“Connor! What gives?!”, Jared complained, “You know I’m sensitive there!”. 

“Oh yes”, Evan smirked, “We are both aware that you are a little ticklish”.

“Only under my arms!”, Jared argued, “And says you Evan, your a breathing walking tickle spot!”. Evan blushed at that.

Suddenly, Jared’s eyes widened, and he started shaking again, “Spot...spot”.

Connor and Evan shared a concerned look, before looking down at Jared between them. 

“Spot...oh, I almost forgot...they called my father’s house...the perfect spot for-”

“Hey, hey”, Connor interrupted, rubbing Jared’s back, “It’s okay, you don’t have to repeat them”. Connor slipped his right hand under Jared’s am, causing him to shriek and smack it off.

“Connor! This isn’t the time!”. 

Evan smiled and scooted closer to Jared, “Why Jared, this is the perfect time. You have been hurt, so it is only our duty as your best friends to put a smile back on your fa-”.

“Hey!”, Zoe interrupted, swinging open the door, “I heard a scream, what’s going in in here?”.  Evan turned dark red, “Oh, hey Zoe”.

Connor grinned at his sister, “Oh, I just tickled my little buddy over here”.

“Asshole!”, Jared grunted. 

Zoe grinned, “Oh, I get it, we have a freakishly ticklish guy in here”.

“I am not freakishly ticklish, I only have one spot!”, Jared remarked, “Evan, he’s the one who’s freakishly tickl-AH!”.

Evan had poked under Jared’s other arm, and tackled him over. Connor smirked and pinned Jared’s arms above his head.

“Ev, don’t you fucking da-AHAHAHAH NOHOHO!”. 

Evan clawed his fingers up and down Jared’s helpless underarms, “ZOHOHOHHOEEE HEHELP!”.

Zoe smirked: “As you wish”.

“NOHOHOH WAHAIT, DOHHOHON’T HEHELP THEHEHEHEHEM!”.

Zoe just giggled as she sat beside Evan and helped with the tickling. Evan tuned a deep red with Zoe sitting next to him, her giggling as they occasionally brushed fingers together, tickling Jared out of his mind.

That giggle of Zoe’s; Evan wasn’t sure if he could take this much longer. He stood up, causing the other three to look up at him.

“Aw, are you chickening out Ev?”, Connor teased, “Are you too afraid that Jared will get you back?”.

“Well, ah...”, Evan stuttered. Zoe smiled, “You know that if you chicken out now, you’ll be my next victim”. Evan turned a darker shade of red. Zoe just chuckled and went back to tickling a helpless Jared.

“NANHAHAHAHA ZOHOHOHOHE WAHAHAHAIT! NAOHOHOHHO, EHEHEHEVAN GOHOHOHOHO AWAHAHAHAY!”.

Evan had sat on Connor’s side of Jared instead, and went back to his attack.

Evan’s fingers clawed and prodded precisely, and Zoe’s scribbled and teased lightly. The combination of the two was almost unbearable for poor Jared.

Almost.

He was actually kind of enjoying himself. After a rough afternoon, laughing his head off was almost freeing. Like locking away the door to his misery and throwing away the key. 

But that didn’t stop him from struggling.

“IHIHIHI WIHIHIHIHILL KIHIHIHIHILL YOHOHOHOHU AHAHAHAHALL AHAHAHAHAFTER THIHIHIHIS!” Jared cried, desperately jerking his torso up and down against the bed. 

The other three just smiled, happy with the madness that they were inflicting on their friend. But still, it had to end at some point, the guy needed to breathe. 

Connor unpinned Jared’s arms, and as soon as he did, Jared pounced on Evan.

“Oh, your in for it!”.

And the room erupted in laughter once more. 

Ok, so that was really short, but I’ve got a nice long once coming up! So, to quote my favourite musical, Be Prepared!

[ticklishraspberries]

Caught (Connor/Miguel, Zoe)

Summary: Zoe comes home to find that her brother has snuck someone over. (Listen, okay. I know there are like ten people in this fandom, but I cannot choose what my brain decides to fixate on. I am a sucker for Connor/Miguel, and a sucker for Murphy sibling bonding, and this fic just spilled out. So, take this self-indulgent thing and I hope you enjoy it!!)

Zoe completely forgot that the jazz band had canceled rehearsal that afternoon, and she lugs her guitar all the way to their practice room before realizing, letting out a groan. She carries her guitar all the way back to her car, getting into the driver’s seat and playing some Phoebe Bridgers for her ride home, shamelessly singing along.

Ever since Connor transferred to Hanover, she’s had the car to herself, which gives her the freedom to blast her music and stop by Starbucks whenever she wants. Even with the detour for coffee, she’s home much earlier than she would be on a normal Tuesday. She toes off her Converse by the front door, places her car keys on the table. As she heads towards the stairs, she swears she hears…voices?

Neither of her parents’ cars are in the driveway, and Connor isn’t usually the type to talk to himself, and even if he was, there are definitely two voices, and they’re laughing. He could be watching a show, but it’s much too loud to be from the television. Any normal person would assume that their brother has a friend over, but Zoe’s never seen Connor bring anyone back to the house. Better yet, she’s never known any of Connor’s friends, and always just assumed that he has none. Curiosity and confusion overtake her as she climbs the stairs, and she knocks on the door.

The giggling doesn’t stop — her big brother, giggling, a sound she hasn’t heard since they were children. She can also hear an unfamiliar voice say something, but the thick wood of the door muffles the words. Clearly they hadn’t heard her knock, so she pushes the door open, brows furrowed and questions ready on her tongue.

Connor is half-pinned to his navy blue sheets, long hair messy and hoodie pushed above his navel, cheeks red. A good-looking, tan-skinned boy that Zoe didn’t recognize is the one hovering over him, tickling his sides and grinning like mad. She only catches it for a split second before they both jump at her arrival, drawing away from one another like they’d been caught doing something much less innocent.

“Zoe, what the fuck?” Connor asks, and his voice sounds breathless, trying to fix his rucked up shirt. “Did you forget how to fuckin’ knock?”

Zoe can’t tell if he’s more angry or embarrassed, and figures he’s teetering somewhere in between. An angry Connor is never a good thing, but can’t bring herself to care in that moment, still unsure if this is some kind of fever dream. “Sorry, I just heard…Who are you?” she asks, looking at the other boy.

“I’m Miguel,” he replies, sounding significantly less flustered than her brother. “I’m Connor’s, uh, friend. Nice to meet you.”

Connor huffs, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. They’re both clearly a bit stoned, and Zoe can still smell the smoke lingering in the room.

She gives Miguel a smile. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for barging in, I was just surprised…Connor doesn’t usually have friends over.”

“And you aren’t usually home ‘til four on Tuesdays,” Connor replies at the same time that Miguel says, “No worries.”

“Jazz band was canceled. I didn’t think I had to tell you, since I didn’t think you’d be sneaking a friend over,” she says. “I’ll warn you next time, I guess. And I won’t tell mom and dad, either.”

Connor fiddles with the strings on his hoodie, pointedly looking anywhere but at Zoe or Miguel, and it’s actually kind of hilarious to see her brother so clearly flustered. “Whatever. Thanks, I guess,” he mutters.

Zoe nods, and there’s an awkward beat of silence before she’s reaching for the doorknob, intending to go back to her room and study. But before she shuts the door all the way, a mischievous little lightbulb goes off over her head. She had honestly forgotten that her brother was ticklish at all, as it wasn’t knowledge she put to use anymore. They had stopped being physically playful with one another by the time she was ten, but now, she remembers it clear as day, wrestling and making one another shriek with laughter.

“Hey, Miguel?” she says, peeking back into the room.

“What’s up?” he asks.

Zoe’s eyes flicker to Connor, and she smirks. “If I remember correctly, his knees are really bad. Have fun!” She shuts the door and strolls down the hallway to her own bedroom. She hears Connor yell “traitor!” before dissolving into laughter once again, and for the first time in years, she feels a fondness towards her older brother that she thought had been lost.

Whoever this Miguel guy is, she hopes he’s good for Connor. As strained as their relationship has become, Zoe knows that deep down, she loves her brother and wants him to get better. She knows that dating someone (because she has a sneaking suspicion that Miguel is more than a friend) won’t “fix” him, but maybe it will give him a push in the direction of healing.

About an hour passes before she hears two pairs of footsteps head down the stairs, which she assumes is Miguel leaving. She glances out her window and watches him walk out to his car, Connor following behind him. Before Miguel gets into the driver’s seat, he leans forward and presses a kiss to Connor’s lips. Called it, she thinks.

Miguel drives off and she watches her brother walk back towards the house, hears him make his way back up the stairs and to his bedroom. It makes her heart feel a little lighter, realizing her brother still has a soft side after all these years.

When her parents come home, she takes her seat at the dinner table and shoots Connor a look, a tiny smile. He responds by subtly flipping her off, but there’s no malice behind it. Zoe decides that the next time that jazz band is canceled, she’ll bring home coffee for Connor and Miguel, too.

[ticklishraspberries]

‘Til Our Ribs Get Tough (Connor/Miguel)

Summary: Connor and Miguel go out for a nighttime drive. (Content warnings for marijuana use, mention of harder substances, vulgar language, and some clothed sexual acts. Minors be gone!! I hope y’all enjoy!)

Miguel’s blue car pulled up in front of the Murphy house at 11:05 on the dot, and Connor, who had already snuck out of his window, gave a small smile as he pulled open the side door.

“Hey,” he said, getting into the passenger’s seat and closing the car door as quietly as possible.

The smile on Miguel’s face matched Connor’s own as he leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “Hey,” he replied, voice soft. “You doin’ okay?”

Connor shrugged. He’d gotten into a fight with his parents earlier that evening, and had called Miguel in a moment of ‘get me the fuck out of this house’ desperation. And Miguel had come through and driven over with some of his best shit, a pipe, and grinder hidden in the glove compartment. It didn’t hide the smell very effectively, though.

“M’alright. Wanna drive before Larry spots a suspicious vehicle outside?”

Miguel laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan.”

The parking lot outside the old apple orchard was their usual hang out place. If the weather was nice, they’d get out and walk around, but it was cold and damp, so they would be spending their evening in the car.

Miguel pulled into a parking spot and immediately went scrolling through his array of Spotify playlists, eventually finding one that ‘fit the vibe’, as he said. Connor watched him, amused and oh-so-slightly lovestruck, observing him in such a mundane moment.

As The Front Bottoms came spilling through the speakers, Miguel turned to him with a smile, putting his phone on the dashboard. “I think it’s time for a good, ol’-fashioned hotbox, wouldn’t you say?”

Connor nodded enthusiastically, opening up the glove compartment and handing the bag over, which Miguel took with a nod of thanks.

The moment he pulled out the bud, Connor could have drooled. It smelt earthy and sweet, and it desperately tried to cling to Miguel’s fingers as he was placing it in the grinder. He always had the best shit. Just one of the many benefits of being his...friend? Boyfriend? Connor wasn’t sure what they were, but he had never been one for labels anyway.

The grinder made a ghastly squeaking sound, making them both wince, but it got the job done, and Miguel made quick work of packing the bowl. Although they were both experienced smokers, Miguel had steadier hands and more patience for things like packing, grinding, and rolling joints. Connor was usually a fan of pre-rolled joints or edibles, something quick and effortless, but there was something that felt strangely intimate about watching Miguel do it all, and smoking something he’d packed for the two of them to share.

It was the stoner’s equivalent to being cooked for, he figured.

Miguel passed him the pipe and lighter, and Connor took it and pressed his lips to the end, holding the lighter over the bud until it started to burn nicely, inhaling the whole way. He only coughed once when he pulled off, his lungs used to the abuse he put them through on the daily, and passed it back to Miguel, who also took a generous hit.

Connor leaned back in his seat, looking through the rain-covered windshield at the orchard. The trees had all withered, the grass unkept and full of weeds. How poetic, his favorite childhood place now unloved and abandoned. He almost scoffed aloud at the lame ass metaphor.

“What did you guys fight about this time?” Miguel asked softly, passing it back to Connor.

Connor shrugged. “I couldn’t even tell you. It just spirals from nothing.”

Miguel hummed sympathetically and passed the pipe back.

It didn’t take long until the two of them were high, scrambling into the backseat with laughter dripping off their tongues.

Connor pulled Miguel close, nipping at the birthmark on his neck.

Miguel shivered and let his head loll back, giving Connor easier access to his skin. “Fuck,” he breathed, pulling his partner close until Connor was essentially straddling his lap. He was already embarrassingly hard, and his sweatpants left so little to the imagination.

Connor’s eyes flickered down and noticed the bulge, and purposefully bucked his hips forward to grind their clothed cocks together. 

‘We’re fucking in a car, shooting heroin,’ crooned Matt Healy’s voice through the radio.

The two of them burst out laughing.

“It’s sort of true,” Miguel said, hand gripping Connor’s thigh.

“Yeah, we forgot the heroin this time,” Connor replied, grinning.

“Oh, of course. Next time though, right?”

“Absolutely.”

The sarcasm was thick in their voices, and they dissolved into giggles once again, Connor burying his face into Miguel’s shoulder.

“Well, we also aren’t fucking, we’re just making out,” he muttered after a moment.

Miguel snorted. “We’re doing the diet version of that lyric.”

That brought them both into another fit of laughter.

To be honest, they hadn’t gone very far in that area yet, and they were both okay with keeping it that way. Hormones raged during these late night makeout sessions, but they always pushed it away due to nervousness or the understanding that a car was not the best place for such an event to take place.

However, just because they weren’t going all the way didn’t mean that they didn’t like to mess around. After their giggling had died down, Connor began to lazily suck a hickey into Miguel’s collarbone, causing some sounds of pleasure.

Desperate to get in on the action, Miguel’s hands wandered, grabbing at Connor’s hips and pushing their way underneath his sweatshirt, caressing his sides. He was surprised when Connor’s torso twisted away from the touch, the lips at his neck faltering and falling open in a little gasp.

“Are you okay?” Miguel asked, retracting his touch. “I’m sorry if that crossed a line.”

Connor sat back to look at Miguel, but he couldn’t quite meet his eye. “No, you’re fine. Your hands are just cold,” he replied.

Miguel raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got the heat blasting in here, there’s no way I’m that cold,” he said. “If you don’t want me to touch you like that, it’s fine, you can be honest.”

Connor sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I just…It just kinda tickled.”

“Oh,” Miguel replied. The car was quite dim, but he could see the color rise in Connor’s cheeks. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“Neither did I,” Connor replied. “Well, like, as a kid I knew. I kinda forgot, though, I guess.”

Miguel’s hands cautiously returned to Connor’s hips. “Well, I can always jog your memory.”

Either Connor was just incredibly high, or he was incredibly sensitive. Perhaps it was a mix of both. Regardless, before Miguel’s fingers had even started to move, he was starting to giggle. But he didn’t protest, so Miguel didn’t stop.

“I’m barely touching you!”

Connor gave a little whine, half-heartedly batting at the offending hands. “But I know what you’re gonna do!”

“And what exactly am I gonna do?” Miguel asked.

“Tickle me!”

“Oh, you want me to tickle you? Sure thing!”

The hands darted beneath his sweater again and fingers danced over Connor’s stomach and sides, no particular strategy to the attack, just hungrily searching for spots that brought about more precious laughter.

Clearly frustrated that he’d fallen for such a juvenile trick, Connor groaned between that aforementioned laughter. “Fuck off!”

“That’s not very polite,” Miguel replied. “I’m just doing what you asked.”

“But I—that’s not what—” he tried to reply, but he was breathless and his mind was still muddy from the high, and Miguel’s touch was incredibly distracting, so he couldn’t get a clear sentence out.

As both their giggling filled the car once again, the faint sound of a Lorde song still trickled through the speakers.

‘You’re the only friend I need / Sharing beds like little kids / And laughing ‘til our ribs get tough’

And at that moment, Connor felt as though everything was going to be alright.

[ticklishraspberries]

Zen (Connor/Miguel)

Summary: Connor’s always cracking different parts of his body, and Miguel offers a different solution to his soreness. (I haven’t written DEH in forever and I don’t know how many people still care about it, but Connor is one of my all time favorite characters and I just got this idea and just. Spilled it out into a Googledoc so...here you go!)

It seemed that hobbies such as reading books in a hunched over position, drawing at a desk, and smoking a bowl while lying in bed led to Connor’s bones making ungodly cracking sounds whenever he stretched. Usually, he was alone in his room when those noises occurred, so it never really struck him as something worth pointing out.

Until he met Miguel, who only ever cracked his knuckles, and was simultaneously disgusted and fascinated to hear Connor’s neck pop like a kernel in a microwave.

Connor’s sleep schedule had been extra fucked as of late, and so he spent more time in his muscle-atrophying positions, and therefore, his body was beyond sore. They were both stoned, sitting in Miguel’s bedroom, and Connor had innocently stretched his arms above his head and let all the tension release in his shoulders, twisting his spine from side to side...

“Was that your back?”

Connor’s lips twitched at the horrified expression on Miguel’s face. “Yeah, it was.”

“Jesus, that sounded like it hurt,” Miguel replied.

“It actually feels good,” Connor shrugged. “It hurts to not crack it.”

Miguel shook his head. “You need a chiropractor. Or at least a massage or something.”

It was Connor’s turn to pull a face. “Pass.”

“What’s wrong with a massage?”

“I don’t like people touching me,” Connor replied simply.

“You like when I touch you,” Miguel countered.

Though his boyfriend’s tone didn’t indicate an innuendo, the words still made Connor’s cheeks flush. “I mean I don’t like most people touching me,” he corrected. “Especially strangers.”

It was one of the main reasons Connor avoided the doctor, the dentist, the barber. Other than submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known, a stranger also had to make awkward physical contact with him? No way. He would gladly suffer through an illness than let cold, clammy doctor hands poke and prod at him.

“I could give you a massage, if you want.”

Connor’s cheeks reddened. “You don’t have to,” he said.

“I know I don’t, but I offered because I want to...That is, if you’re okay with it.”

Well, Miguel was right: Connor didn’t mind when Miguel touched him. Quite the opposite, actually. And lately, the ache in his neck, shoulders, and back had settled deep, and his usual methods weren’t making it go away.

So, he shrugged. “Do you even know how?” he asked.

Miguel grinned. “How hard could it be?”

And so, Connor had shed his hoodie, leaving him in a faded All Time Low t-shirt. Miguel had seen him shirtless a few times before, but it still made his stomach do flips, and not in the cute kind of nervous way, but in the ‘so-anxious-I-might-puke’ way, so Miguel was more than willing to deal with a fabric barrier.

Connor sat cross-legged on the mattress, and Miguel settled right behind him, kneeling. He brought his hands up to rest gently on Connor’s shoulders. Although his instinct would normally be to flinch, the touch brought forth no reaction other than a small exhale through his nose.

“Where does it hurt?” Miguel asked.

Connor shrugged. “I can’t really pinpoint it, I’m just sore everywhere.”

Miguel gave a sympathetic hum. “So just tell me if it feels good then, okay?”

Connor nodded.

The initial press of thumbs into his muscles made Connor tense, but he quickly let himself relax. It did feel good, and he rarely allowed himself to be taken care of in such a way.

Miguel took Connor’s comfortable silence as encouragement, knowing his boyfriend always got quiet during intimate moments, whether it be from shyness or just being awkward, he wasn’t sure, but he’d learned to adapt to it.

After a bit, he moved from Connor’s shoulders and started on his upper back, and Connor all but melted.

“Good?” Miguel asked, smiling.

Connor nodded. “I thought you said you’d never done this before.”

“I did. I also said it couldn’t be that complicated. Clearly, I was right. Either that or you’re just easy to please.”

The long-haired teen gave a soft chuckle at that.

It was odd to see Connor so zen. He was normally high-strung and nervous, bouncing his legs or letting his gaze flitter around rooms. But as Miguel massaged, he felt the tension both literally and metaphorically leaving his boyfriend’s body.

It wasn’t until Miguel’s touch strayed to the back of Connor’s ribs that he seemed to squirm.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Connor replied, but Miguel could hear his tone change.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, worried.

“No, I just...It’s stupid.”

Miguel’s hands returned to resting softly on Connor’s shoulders. “I doubt it’s stupid. If you don’t want me to touch you somewhere, you can tell me.”

Connor turned his head so that he could sort of see Miguel’s face, and Miguel was surprised to see the pink blush spread across Connor’s face.

“I’m just kind of ticklish,” Connor admitted. “So you gotta be careful.”

It was Miguel’s turn to melt. “Noted,” he said, fighting back his grin. He didn’t want to abuse the knowledge that Connor had given him and risk ruining the sweet moment, but it was tempting.

Instead of going back to Connor’s ribs, Miguel’s hands went to his neck.

“You’re always cracking your neck and it’s so goddamn loud,” Miguel said. “Maybe I can help.”

Connor’s shoulders scrunched. “There too,” he muttered, obviously meaning it tickled, but the way he avoided admitting his sensitivity another time was too cute for Miguel to handle.

“Just relax,” Miguel said, petting his hair. “If it’s too much, I’ll stop, but I bet it’ll feel good.”

His touch started out rough, trying to throw Connor’s nerves off and stop blocking his touch, and it worked. Connor let out a low whine when Miguel at the knob of his spine, slowly working up the back of his neck.

It did feel good, even if he had to fight back the occasional nervous giggle when the touch lightened.

“Told you,” Miguel said.

Connor gave a huff in response, too blissed out to reply.

But when Miguel went to touch the side of his neck, Connor let out a surprised laugh and folded forward.

“Kind of ticklish?” Miguel repeated, grinning.

Connor was bright red by that point, turning around with a pout like a pissed off toddler. “Okay, maybe more than ‘kind of’. I feel better now, though.”

“Good,” Miguel said. He reached out to grab Connor around the middle and pull him back, pressing an obnoxious kiss to the side of his face. “But I’m not gonna let you get away that easily.”

His fingers quickly danced over Connor’s sides, and it wasn’t long until he was laughing, in that loud and bright way that Miguel so rarely heard.

“Are you sure you don’t need a massage here, too?” Miguel asked, teasing tone dripping from his words.

“I’m sure!” Connor replied, wriggling in his boyfriend’s arms.

Miguel had sort of been expecting to be shoved away, or at least for Connor to tell him to knock it off, but...Nothing. Huh.

That was an experiment for another day.

In that moment, he was just content to have Connor’s trust, to be affectionate with him and watch him relax, like he deserved to.