#ler!crowley | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forsssnaken · 1 year ago

Text

Aziraphale's Literary Discovery

Important note: I am no longer writing stuff like this. It was a nice way for me to be happy while in a rather precarious mental state, but I no longer enjoy it all the same way I once did. I'm keeping it up as it was a gift, and there are still people who may enjoy it, but I am unhappy with my writing how it was in this fic, and I don't enjoy writing this stuff anymore. I still write good omens fanfics now, if you want to give me a chance there.

THIS. IS. A. TICKLING. FIC. COMPLETELY. SFW.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @practickles!!! I am your squealing santa this year :)) I hope this is everything you hoped for and more!! (and now i can follow you without being worried that i'll blow my cover lol)

@squealing-santa

screw canon(/j), they are happy together and have tickles.

switch!aziraphale, switch!crowley.

cw: light mentions of alcohol/sobering up magically, cursing (because it's Crowley), using a miracle to pin someone that could be read as invisible bondage.

Aziraphale turned a page in his book, but wasn't really reading anymore. This had been happening more and more often: he would stop reading just to think about the demon who was currently asleep on his couch.

Aziraphale and Crowley had finished off some good wine last night, and instead of sobering up, Crowley had decided to sleep it off on the bookshop's couch. The angel had sobered up, reading all through the night with the occasional glance to the demon's sleeping form.

Honestly, Aziraphale prefers Crowley awake. He loves the demon's antics and being able to spend time together (although the serenity and calmness radiating off the demon's lanky form was delightful). He didn't technically need to breathe, but he did -- soft deep breaths that were almost soft snores.

Aziraphale quickly snapped himself out of the trance he had been in, staring at his friend(?), and glancing back at the book. It was a sweet romcom, one that left Aziraphale feeling giddy and with butterflies in his stomach. The couple in his book were playful, and in the current scene, were poking each other and giggling. This was a fascinating idea that humans called "tickling", which led to supposedly uncontrollable laughter and seemed like a sweet bonding exercise.

Something clicked in his mind and he looked back at Crowley asleep on the couch, limbs splayed out haphazardly. His tight-fitting shirt had risen a little, leaving a sliver of the pale skin of his lower stomach on display. Aziraphale gasped excitedly, looking back at his book where the tickle fight was happening. Supposedly, even small touches could lead to ticklish sensations!

He stood up, beginning to creep over to the sleeping figure, before realizing that Crowley could sleep through almost anything and walking over normally. The angel stared at him with wide eyes, glancing back and forth between his calm face and the sliver of exposed stomach. He tentatively reached out a finger, poking Crowley's abdomen.

There was a faint reaction, a small breath hitching in between small snores and Crowley squirmed a bit. Was Crowley ticklish?! How silly! How human! What a delightful discovery! He giddily clapped, then began tracing the sliver of exposed skin. Crowley huffed, squirmed, and scrunched up his nose a bit, before rolling over and crossing his arms over his stomach.

Aziraphale was ecstatic at his findings, and couldn't wait to enact something rather devious (by his standards)!

A few days later, he woke a grumpy Crowley up from his nap (and if Crowley became less grumpy when he noticed that he was covered in a cozy blanket, the angel didn't need to know). Aziraphale had a mission: go on a date -- a Friend Date (he told himself, at least) -- and bring up tickling to him! The angel had an innate need to tickle Crowley now, see his presumably adorable reactions, and have the physical contact that the angel began to crave.

"Come on, Crowley!" Aziraphale grinned, pulling the demon into a seated position by his hand.

Crowley grumbled, "For what?"

Crowley seemed entirely uninterested, but in truth, he loved spending time with Aziraphale and would do anything if Aziraphale truly wanted to spend time with him.

"A picnic!" Aziraphale gestured to a wicker basket stocked full of goodies.

Crowley rolled his eyes (but was truly content with this plan), put his shoes on, and drove them to a gorgeous woodsy park. When they had found their own spot, Aziraphale spread out a blanket on the grass, sat down, and began unpacking some small sandwiches and poured them both a glass of wine.

"Not so much now, my dear boy," He handed Crowley the wine, "I'd like you awake for a little while. It's dreadfully boring being all alone and reading by myself!"

He got nothing but a grunt in return, but everything was perfect, so Aziraphale continued on with his ramblings.

In between bites of his sandwiches, he told Crowley all about the books he had been reading, but especially about the lovely rom-com he had just read.

"They had such a lovely relationship! Human love just excites me so much! They do so many sweet things together, not unlike us!"

"Ngk-" Crowley choked slightly on his wine and turned a bit pink, but Aziraphale didn't seem to notice.

"They certainly touched a lot more than we do, though, Crowley!" The angel pouted.

Crowley shrugged, "We're not having sex."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's mouth gaped as he gasped, smacking the demon softly on his leg, "Don't say that! They touched plenty without sexual implications!"

Crowley sipped his wine, not needing to respond.

"They cuddled, and kissed, and even- well," Aziraphale cut himself off, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

This now intrigued Crowley, who sat up a bit, and looked at Aziraphale, scooting closer so they were side by side.

He teased Aziraphale, "Oh? Was it sexual then? You realized I was right and you were wrong?"

Aziraphale huffed indignantly, "No! I'm just not sure if you even know what it is!"

Oh, Crowley was so up for a challenge. "I'm sure I would! I know much more about humans than you do."

Aziraphale leaned closer, grinning and placing a hand on the blanket behind Crowley, so they were almost touching. "Oh really?"

Crowley smirked and nodded, taking his sunglasses off and stowing them safely in the picnic basket, so he could look at Aziraphale in the eyes to show him how serious he was.

"Yes, they were tickling each other!" Aziraphale grinned, hoping that Crowley wouldn't know about tickling, so he could teach him.

"Oh, that? How would I not know about that?" Crowley didn't let anything slip, so Aziraphale thought it might be possible that he just didn't know.

"Yes, I think that's quite intimate," Aziraphale reached out and placed a hand on Crowley's knee, "it seems sweet to me!"

Crowley grumbled, avoiding eye contact awkwardly. "What, is this your way of asking me to tickle you?"

Aziraphale stammered, protesting quickly, "Why would I want that?!"

Now it was Crowley's turn to look offended, "There's nothing wrong with wanting that!"

Aziraphale was now slightly grumpy; this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Crowley had that devilish (albeit attractive) grin across his face, placing a hand on Aziraphale's side.

"This wasn't how this was supposed to goHO-" Aziraphale smacked a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Crowley, that evil, evil demon, had squeezed Aziraphale's side! What a terrible thing for his corperal form to feel! Aziraphale, in all his planning, could not have anticipated this!

A small smirk crept across Crowley's face as he put the other hand on Aziraphale's clothed side and squeezed a few times in a row.

Aziraphale's hands flew down from his mouth to his sides, weakly pushing at Crowley's hands as he laughed heartily. His smile was beautiful. It was, well, angelic.

Crowley was right. Aziraphale thought this was quite nice. He hadn't laughed this hard in a while, and seeing Crowley's enjoyment of his reactions was amazing!

Crowley smiled widely, skittering his nimble fingers along Aziraphale's gorgeous plush stomach, before refocusing his attention on Aziraphale's thighs. Aziraphale's magnificently scrumptious thighs, currently busy with Aziraphale's frantically kicking feet. Crowley stopped, giving Aziraphale a small break, before placing his hands on those delightful thighs.

Aziraphale was not worried in the slightest; he had never heard of someone's thighs being ticklish, just the usual suspects like the upper body, feet, neck, and hips. But thighs? That seemed silly... until Crowley started squeezing them.

Aziraphale barked out a laugh, falling gently on his back as he was unable to hold himself sitting up. He made noises that were so embarrassing: he even squealed! Crowley was unwavering in his ticklish squeezing, grinning broadly. Aziraphale was laughing harder than he ever had, his head shaking back and forth as he laughed frantically, beginning to push at Crowley's hands again. This was Crowley's cue to slow down, and he moved his hands back up to the angel's stomach to gently trace shapes as Aziraphale recovered.

"Y- you're evil!" Aziraphale gasped, still giggling.

"I'm a demon, that's kind of the whole point," Crowley deadpanned, although unable to wipe the smile off his face.

Aziraphale caught his breath, then grabbed Crowley's hands. Crowley's eyes widened slightly, but he tried to play it off, scoffing.

Aziraphale sat up quickly, pushing Crowley onto his back and pinning him there with shocking strength. Crowley looked at him confused and began squirming awkwardly. Aziraphale had fully sat on his hips, pinning his arms above his head as he leaned over the demon, their faces quite close together.

"What? How did you-" Crowley stammered, baffled by Aziraphale's strength, "What are you doing?"

Aziraphale grinned, excited to give Crowley all the exposition of his plan. "When I was reading that book, I tried tickling you, when you were asleep. I poked you, and you reacted! I have to try it again!"

Crowley blushed a bit, before retorting, "Angel, anyone would react to being poked. I'm not ticklish, I'm a demon. Being ticklish is all- cute and innocent. I'm neither of those things."

"I beg to differ," Aziraphale grinned, slipping his warm hand under Crowley's tight shirt, beginning to trace circles on Crowley's stomach.

Crowley's brain short circuted. Not only was the angel on top of him, but he was touching Crowley more intimately than they'd ever touched. And Crowley did feel something -- was that being ticklish?

Crowley squirmed, averting his eyes from Aziraphale's as he clamped his mouth shut.

Aziraphale, ever so oblivious, was slightly upset that it didn't really effect Crowley like it did when he was asleep. Maybe he was controlling his reactions? Maybe he truly was right and wasn't ticklish!

Aziraphale huffed, "You really reacted the other day, I promise!"

Crowley was trying his best to not react, his serpentine eyes flicking towards Aziraphale's well-manicured hand, still tracing under his shirt.

"Ngk- just give it a rest, angel!" Crowley sputtered, feeling giggles (Yes, giggles! Demons aren't supposed to giggle!) bubbling up in his chest.

Aziraphale was starting to feel a bit hopeless; he thought it would have been incredibly endearing if Crowley was ticklish. The demon barely smiled (not counting his mischievous smirks), and Aziraphale would love to hear him laugh, truly laugh, for the first time in years. Aziraphale pouted and decided to give it one last go.

He poked Crowley in the side.

Crowley gasped, jumped, and made awkward eye contact with the angel on top of him.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was ecstatic! A giddy smile broke across his face.

"No, angel, no. I was just startled-" Crowley said quickly, squirming.

"Oh my dear Crowley, my dear silly demon..." Aziraphale grinned.

"No angel I-" Crowley couldn't focus on being called Aziraphale's, due to the imminent danger of him being tickled.

Much to his dismay, Aziraphale began ruthlessly skittering his fingers over Crowley's stomach and sides. Damn his fashionable outfits! The shirt he was wearing was incredibly thin and did nothing to protect him from the angel's attack.

Crowley tried to keep his mouth shut and hide his reactions, but his attempts were futile. He burst out into loud laughter and squirmed as much as he could (which wasn't much). It made sense why tickling was used as a torture method in the past; he would have given up any secret that Aziraphale could ask for in this moment! Although, there was something nice about it: the intimacy, the giddy feeling, and Aziraphale's touch gave him a rush of happiness.

"Why are you laughing, my dear boy? Thought of something devious? Scheming?" Aziraphale laughed along with Crowley -- for such a supposedly evil being, he sure had a contagious laugh -- and scribbled his fingers even faster. "Or are you just... ticklish?"

And if Crowley's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink, he hoped Aziraphale didn't notice.

"You're- teasing- me!" He sputtered indignantly, through bright, happy laughter.

Aziraphale paused, pretending to look offended, "No I'm not! I'm simply asking questions to figure out why you're laughing so much!"

In the midst of talking, he wasn't paying attention to what his hands were doing. His hands moved down to the hem of Crowley's shirt, causing the demon to jump, eyes wide.

Aziraphale's eyebrow raised quickly, "Oh?"

Crowley shook his head, stammering "No," and tugging on his hands.

As both of them knew, although the angel's corporeal form was strong, Crowley could easily have gotten his arms free by non-human means. Maybe he just didn't want to.

The most devilish grin to ever cross an angels face suddenly appeared on Aziraphale's. He let go of Crowley's arms, but not before preforming a miracle that kept his arms trapped in place, taut above his head.

Crowley's snake-like eyes grew wider as he tugged frantically on his arms, beginning to giggle nervously. His whole 'bad boy' persona was completely gone now, and he was quite enjoying this (though he'd never admit such a silly thing).

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale teased, wiggling his fingers at the squirming demon, "are you prepared for your demise?"

That shut Crowley up.

Until Aziraphale did something truly evil. Something so evil that even the higher-ups in Hell couldn't dream of. He repeatedly squeezed Crowley's hips.

Crowley made the most embarrassing noise possible -- he squealed.

"AAAAZiraphale!!!" He laughed, wiggling as much as possible, "YOU BASSSSTARD!!"

Curse that stupid hissing. Usually he was able to disguise it, whenever Aziraphale caught him off guard with accidental(?) flirting or made a silly joke that a big bad demon like himself shouldn't laugh at. Speaking of laughing, Crowley was laughing more than he ever had in his life.

And it felt amazing. Having his angel so close to him in such an intimate way, literally on top of him. He was able to let his guard down.

The angel gasped, "What did you just call me, my dear boy?!"

Aziraphale skittered his fingers around Crowley's stomach and sides, relishing in the rare and genuine laughter.

Luckily, although neither of them could be sure if it was intentional or not, Aziraphale's miracle that pinned Crowley's hand was slowly faltering. Crowley didn't realize (he was laughing too hard to think about much) until his arms subconsciously snapped down to grab at Aziraphale's hands.

Aziraphale paused his attack, concerned about his friend(?). Crowley looked at him, as his leftover giggles became slightly more devious.

Crowley latched his clawed hands onto Aziraphale's clothed sides and rapidly squeezed, disrupting the power that Aziraphale had held over him, and toppling them both over onto their sides, facing each other.

Aziraphale tickled Crowley back, angelic giggles pouring out of his mouth.

"You- you're such a demon!" He exclaimed through loud laughter.

Crowley nodded, squirming closer to Aziraphale as they tickled each other.

They were practically cuddling as their fingers slowed to tracing each other's abdomens, softly giggling.

Aziraphale stared into Crowley's gorgeous auburn eyes and was struck with a sense of overwhelming love.

Crowley's smile was wider than it should have been from leftover giggles as he watched the angel and his smile and gorgeous face. As if God Herself had heard his thoughts, sunlight struck the angel's face in a certain way where he looked like he was glowing (although he may have been radiating an otherworldly glow from overwhelming happiness).

They stayed there for a while, in each others arms, staring lovingly into each other's eyes.

If you made it this far, thank you. Reblogs help writers and artists on tumblr a lot, so consider reblogging if you enjoyed <3. If you'd like, send me an ask if you want to talk about anything (related or unrelated to this fic), as it motivates me to write more.

#god is an ineffable husbands shipper fr #ss2k23 #squealing santa #squealing santa 2k23 #ticklish!aziraphale #switch!aziraphale #lee!aziraphale #ler!aziraphale #ticklish!crowley #switch!crowley #lee!crowley #ler!crowley #good omens tickling #good omens tickle fic

77 notes · View notes

ticklishfiend · 8 months ago

Note

FEEL FREE TO USE THIS PROMPT WITH WHOEVER YOU WANT. WHATEVER YOU WANT. IF YOU WANT TO USE IT. it's horribly evil and i trust you with it:

character a wanting tickles in some way, and character b (who knows about their deal and is totally being evil) picking up on it and character b somehow "forgets" what tickling is and how to do it and needs a little memory boost, convincing character A to explain it to them and tell them exactly what to do in order to get what they want 😌

"where do i put my hands?" / "now what?" / "where else should i try?"

- 🍓

i never finished this and im soooo sorry dude, i fell out of my hyperfixation and the motivation just floated out of my body bruh. anyways, here's the unfinished drabble, i hope u like it anyways!!

Aziraphale shifted in his seat. Crossed his legs, then uncrossed them immediately because it felt wrong. He rubbed his forearms against the couch arms uncomfortably, nails picking at the fabric.

Aziraphale knew why he felt so off. But admitting it feels so improper.

Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on Crowley lounging about on his designated couch spot. Aziraphale waited anxiously for him to notice how off he was acting.

Crowley continued picking at his nails, not even bothering to look up at him. The one time Aziraphale wouldn’t mind a little teasing behavior from Crowley and he’s looking at his hand.

Fine. Fine. He’ll say something, something small to get Crowley jump started. It never takes much to get him going anyways, so Aziraphale will have him in no time.

“Ahem,” Aziraphale fake-coughed, a little obvious but if it works it works. Crowley looked up, brows furrowing at Aziraphale’s tense form, noticing his finger tapping impatiently at the arm.

“You alright?”

Aziraphale gave a small shy smile, not looking Crowley in the eyes. His own nails seemed of more interest all of a sudden. “Just feeling…a bit antsy, is all, dear.”

“Oh,” Crowley squinted his eyes, suspicious and curious. “Any particular reason you’re so jittery? Got ants in your pants, angel?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

They were both quiet for a moment. A staring contest. Well, Crowley stared him down at least. Azirphale actually did everything but stare.

Crowley hummed, going back to his hand.

Are you actually joking.

Aziraphale huffed. Okay fine. Again. Maybe Crowley’s just a bit slow today. Yeah, that’s it. He needs a more obvious push. It’s more embarrassing, sure, but the metaphorical ants in his pants feel like they're crawling around faster now and he’s gonna need some relief soon.

So Aziraphale took a big, long stretch. His arms raised above him, a satisfying groan just to call Crowley’s attention to his very exposed and vulnerable torso. And, of course, this did catch Crowley’s eye.

He chuckled. Bingo.

“Can’t keep still today, can ya?” Crowley sat on the edge of his seat, elbow propped on his knee to rest his chin in his hand. He watched Aziraphale settle back into his chair with a grin. “Anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

Aziraphale felt himself will back a blush. “Oh, well, I…I’m not sure. Anything you’d like, I’m sure I’d appreciate.”

“Mm…” Crowley hummed with a smile, eyes trailing Aziraphale up and down. Aziraphale was having a really hard time looking at him right now, it was very cute. “Seriously, angel, I’m not sure how to help you here. I cooould…make you some tea? Maybe grab some cakes by the coffee shop?” Crowley really couldn’t keep that cheeky grin off his face for a second, could he? “But maybe you can throw some suggestions out since my mind is drawing quite the blank.”

Aziraphale truly couldn’t tell if he was being serious. Was that smile devious or just him offering a nice gesture? Crowley had his sweet moments, if anyone would know it’d be Aziraphale, but was this that?? It didn’t really feel like it, but he didn’t want to flub.

“Maybe we could figure something out easier if I…sat next to you?”

“Brilliant idea,” Crowley sat back against the cushion, patting the spot next to him. “Make yourself comfy.”

Aziraphale threw a tight smile his way as he got up, feeling very peculiar about this whole thing. Usually Crowley jumped right into this, eager to get his hands on him and make Aziraphale cackle. Now Crowley’s acting like he’s never tickled him a day in his life.

Aziraphale hopes his brain is just working slower today than usual. The alternative is something he’s becoming very wary over.

Finally seated, Aziraphale sat up straight as a board. He knew exactly what he was doing, too. If he looks too tense or stiff, Crowley always finds the excuse to tickle him into relaxing. Really, Aziraphale can be quite the schemer when he wants to be.

Crowley just watched him for a moment, taking notice each time Aziraphale nervously glanced his way. Crowley reached and gave Aziraphale a soothing rub up and down his back, not stopping when Aziraphale tried flinching away.

“Wow, you’re tense. Really, I’d love to help, but you are funny about your massages,” Crowley purred, giving Aziraphale a pat on the back before leaning back.

Aziraphale ringed his hands. “Ah, yes well, that’s only sometimes,” he bluffed, trying to find any excuse to get Crowley’s dexterous fingers on him right this second. “I don’t think a massage sounds so bad right now, actually.”

Crowley chuckled, “Really? Usually you get all huffy when I offer you one of my famous massages,” he squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulder, which would’ve felt affirming if not for the teasy tone lacing Crowley’s voice right now. What a devil.

Aziraphale did get huffy at that. “Well that’s because you always…” he waved his hand about in the air as if it would jog Crowley’s memory of all the very tickly massages he’s given Aziraphale in the past. Innocent rubs and firm presses to start, but eventually Crowley always trailed a little too close to Aziraphale’s sides, a little too gently, everything was always a little too much. Admittedly, Aziraphale thought that sounded perfect for his current mood.

But Crowley just quirked his head, like a confused puppy. “What are you on about?” he pressed, before physically adjusting Aziraphale to lay down on the couch, back up. Crowley straddled his waist, “I always what?”

Aziraphale’s face felt like it could burn through the pillow he hid himself in. “You do know. Stop messing about.”

“Angel, if I knew what you were talking about…” Crowley leaned his face close into Aziraphale’s exposed ear, giving a hard press into his shoulder blades. His breath tickled as he whispered, “…don’t you think I’d be doing it right now?”

Oh for heaven's sake. Aziraphale felt he could bust through the seams with how on edge he was at the moment. He felt squirmier, hands pressing into spots in an extremely un-ticklish manner that made him want to whine. This is so unfair. Crowley knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s figured out a way to make Aziraphale squirm more than usual and he is not taking it for granted.

Aziraphale’s not sure whether to be excited and thankful, or hit him over the head with his pillow.

“You’re being cruel,” Aziraphale muttered into his pillow, fingers squeezing the cushion in anticipation. Maybe he’d start when Aziraphale least expected? Maybe Crowley’s getting impatient too? But he couldn’t know any of this for sure, so he had to wait, and isn’t that just the most internally ticklish feeling there was?

“Cruel? I’m giving you a massage, for Satan’s sake. I think if anyone is being cruel it’s you. I know you’ve got something you won’t tell me. I can hear those cogs turning in that pretty little head of yours,” Crowley gave his scalp a quick scratch, chuckling at the flinch that came with it. “Jumpy, are we?”

“Yes, okay? Just get on with it, please. I don’t think I can take much more of this. I’ve gone red, Crowley,” he whined like Crowley had made his body malfunction. He was getting a little desperate now. If his very obvious advances won’t work, asking must do this trick. It had to.

But Crowley hummed again. And Aziraphale knew he wasn’t finished with his little tricks.

“Gonna need you to be a little more specific. I’m a bit lost, you see,” Crowley’s hands trailed to hold Aziraphale’s sides firmly. Bastard.

Aziraphale exhaled deeply into the pillow, close to pulling his hair out. “I would like you to…tickle me. Please.”

There was a hesitant silence, like Crowley was pondering his next move and Aziraphale was waiting with bated breath for it.

Then Crowley spoke. And Azirphale almost wished he hadn’t of.

“What’s tickling, dear?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“Nooo,” Aziraphale groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes, beyond flustered and frustrated.

“What? I’m not allowed to ask questions now?”

“It seems like asking questions is all you’re doing, actually…”

“I can’t do what you want if I don’t even know the definition,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale could hear the grin in his voice. Sometimes Aziraphale forgets he chooses to room with an actual, real-life demon. “You gettin’ the picture?”

“Cruel. Cruel, wily serpent. Hell spawn, you are.”

“Yeah, don’t wear it out, angel,” Crowley’s hands squeezed a very non-ticklish squeeze against Aziraphale’s sides, as if just to remind him of where he was above him. “Let's get you flipped over. Can't rightly tell me about this whole tickling thing if your face is smushed into the cushion.”

“Hhhnn,” Aziraphale groaned through a whiny giggle, adjusting under Crowley to lay on his back. Having his flushed face now on display is not helping whatsoever.

Crowley smiled down at him, and Aziraphale swore he saw a forked tongue peek through his sharp teeth. Evil thing. “Why hello there.”

“Hush.”

“I don’t get a hello back?”

“Not after all this teasing you don’t,” Aziraphale would cross his arms if he could, but a certain someone was blocking him with his knees.

“Teasing? Me? I think you really have lost your marbles, dear. I would do no such thing,” Crowley lied through his teeth, settling on Aziraphale’s waist. His hands drifted back to Aziraphale’s sides, firm all the same. “Now…about this tickling thing?”

“You know what tickling is, Crowley. Stop messing with me,” Aziraphale stood his ground, though he found it hard to look Crowley in the eyes right now. Something about those pointed irises and the yellow surrounding them felt truly piercing at the moment. Sharp enough to cut through Aziraphale’s wavering boldness.

“Really, darling, I haven’t a clue. But I'd love to find out if you’d be so inclined?” Crowley caressed Aziraphale’s sides, seemingly to comfort, but the angel nearly shivered. “Especially since you’re so eager for me to figure it out, hm?”

Aziraphale huffed. He’s been huffy since this whole thing started, but now that he can sense what he really wants is just over the horizon, breathing is becoming something of a manual task. “Is this really what it’s going to take?”

Crowley smiled a wicked smile. “I think you’ll find I’m a very fast learner.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, if only to distract himself from that fluttery feeling in his belly at those words.

Closing his eyes and taking a sigh, Aziraphale was ready to get this over with. “T-tickling is…it’s, well…we created it together many, many years ago. If you touch certain parts of the body, my body, I’ll laugh. Involuntarily. So…” Aziraphale coughed awkwardly. “So there. That’s tickling.”

Crowley snickered. Azirphale shoved at his face playfully, his own face feeling warmed by the second. “You’re terrible, Crowley.”

“Aren’t I just?” Crowley said, taking Aziraphale’s hand and pushing it down against the cushion. “So…parts of your body, huh? Wanna be more specific about that?”

“Goodness gracious, you are insufferable,” Aziraphale chuckled through a whine, twisting the wrist in Crowley’s hand. “My…well, my sides are pretty sensitive.”

“Sensitive…you mean…?”

“Ticklish, yes, ticklish! Crowley I swear if you d—dohohoahaha-! C-Crohohowley!” Azirpahale giggled happily when he felt precise fingers finally digging into his sides.

“I think you deserve a little reward for your knowledge,” Crowley grinned, his pinching endless on Aziraphale’s sides. He basked in those silly giggles, happy his little game is over so he can finally hear his angel sing

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #good omens tickling #good omens #lee!aziraphale #ler!crowley #ask #prompt

31 notes · View notes

vampiretickles · 1 year ago

Text

quick silly comic bc i love one cute angel (and so does Crowley)

#good omens #good omens tickling #lee!aziraphale #ler!crowley #my art

80 notes · View notes

flames-tstuff · 1 year ago

Text

SCREAMING AND CRYING RN

I believe the demon Crowley invented it

Which he does, on occasion, do on purpose.

Crowley makes up something special for a certain angel someone. So season two is a thing. I made a thing about Crowley making a thing because I needed more things. I hope you like the thing! :) No spoilers for new season, no worries

SFW. Potential warnings: none. Good Omens/Ineffable Husbands tickle fic.

Word count: 6,003

~*~

It took Crowley a while to want to fly again. To be expected, really; falling, cast from the heavens and plummeting to the depths amid a cacophony of agonized screaming and terrified wailing of the damned all plunging downward into jagged rock and sizzling sulfur–it wasn’t an experience he was eager to repeat. He kept to the ground for a while. Crawling, slithering, was much calmer. But one day, he caught a breeze. Sitting on a crag, sunning himself, the downy feathers of his large dark wings felt a cool gust and began to fluff up. He stretched out the limbs, welcoming the wind, and his long gossamer flight wings began to shiver as well. The wind whistled through him, beckoning him to stretch further, to go faster, to fall. And, with a deep breath and golden eyes wide, he fell. Tucked his wings tight against his back, feeling the wind batter him, rocketing down the mountainside–and then threw them open wide, like floodgates accepting rain, like garden gates accepting fire. He caught the wind, the wind caught him, and he was no longer falling but flying. The wind, the sky, embraced him, surrounded him, whipping through his long crimson hair and tousling it a thousand directions, pinning a hysterical smile to his cheeks, drying tears before they could fall from his eyes. Flapping, swooping, diving, soaring, Crowley shrieked in whooping laughter, utterly free. He wasn’t doomed to the depths; he was up, left, right, down, and everywhere. The sky was his to ride, the earth his to explore. He was alone, and he was free.

He did a lot of flying after that. Still walked often, sure; humans and their antics were much easier to see from the ground. But his heart pounded loudest and brightest up in the atmosphere.

Speaking of heart pounding.

One day, as Crowley flew, he spotted a large white shape in a tree below him. He couldn’t say offhand where he was–it wasn’t like he often flew with a destination; as much of the world as there was, humans hadn’t filled it with all the fun stuff they would one day–but he could see plenty of empty open desert to catch him when he landed. So, he angled his flight downward, and, just for fun, somersaulted into the dry scrubland, loving the feeling of sand freckling his grinning cheeks and grass adorning his mussed hair. A hop, skip, and a jump, and he’d crossed the distance to the curious tree and was perched on a branch beside its familiar inhabitant.

“Hey, angel.”

“Hello, Crawly,” said Aziraphale. Prim and polite as ever, albeit looking painfully bored. The angel’s eyes were wandering the fuzzy desert horizon, hands folded in the lap of his obscenely white robes which billowed gently around his crossed ankles, which swayed subconsciously back and forth. His wings were folded at his back, appearing tight and stiff from disuse. Crowley counted back in his head how long it had been since their paths had crossed and wondered how much of that time Aziraphale had been made to spend as a tree ornament.

“Crowley,” the demon corrected, feeling antsy just watching Aziraphale sit so still and so standing up on his branch, which creaked protestingly against the first real new movement in a while, and reaching up to ruffle the foliage with his fingers.

“Right,” Aziraphale said, furrowing his brow and shaking his head with an embarrassed smile. “Crowley. I wasn’t expecting to see you. What brings you here?”

Crowley’s fingers found purchase on a higher branch, and he gripped it tight, using it to swing himself up and around and hang upside down from the taller vantage point by his knees. His long curls hung down like a red willow, but his own black robes hugged dutifully to his corporal form. (Even if he didn’t have the human habit of shame, he wasn’t keen to let gravity have his clothes; the wind could get cold even in the desert). The blood rushing to his head made Aziraphale’s question not quite register right away, and Crowley blinked. What had brought him? He stretched out his onyx wings and flexed them demonstratively.

“Ah,” Aziraphale chuckled. “I mean, what are you doing?”

The demon stuck out his lower lip thoughtfully and narrowed his eyes. “Nothing?”

The angel tipped his head, brow furrowed. “What do you mean, nothing?”

“Just that, I guess. Flying quite a bit, having fun. Not like demons really have anything we’re meant to be doing, so.” Crowley curled forward, reaching up to his hanging branch and pulling himself upright before laying down on his stomach, resting his head on his arms to look down at the angel. “Yeah, whatever I want. Nothing.”

Aziraphale sputtered, and Crowley chuckled.

“’We have no time to waste, the Almighty has much work for us to do,’” said the demon in so impressive an impression of the head archangel that Aziraphale held a hand to his lips when a titter startled him by escaping. Crowley grinned. “Even if I’m not on God’s payroll anymore, time’s hardly wasted for us, is it? We’re not mortal; we don’t have a limited amount of time to get done all the things we should.” Crowley closed his eyes with a deep sigh. “So I’m doing none of them. Too much earth to enjoy to get busy with work.”

When Crowley slowly opened one eye, he saw Aziraphale turning his ring over on his little finger, white wings twitching and puffing out, subconsciously agitated.

"Could show you, if you want. Come fly with me, I'll take you on a tour."

"What!" In an instant, Aziraphale's wings went from anxiously fidgeting to defensively spread, puffed up and rigid and making him look much bigger and more threatening. Or, it would have, if he hadn't whipped his head around to look at Crowley with the biggest eyes and flapping mouth and reddening cheeks. He looked positively scandalized.

Crowley couldn't help it--he laughed, a hissing snickering sound that he buried in his arms. He noted Aziraphale's flush looked even darker when he lifted his head, but the thought didn't even occur that it could have been from something other than the words from his mouth.

"I- I- I-! I couldn't possibly--!!"

Couldn't possibly, Crowley sighed, hiding the way his smile began to fade by pressing his cheek into his forearm. Couldn't possibly be seen flittering about with a demon!

Aziraphale settled himself, clearing his throat and smoothing his ruffled feathers. "Couldn't possibly. Far too busy."

"With what?" Crowley scoffed, smiling again when Aziraphale's blush rebloomed. "Looked to me like you were doing as much nothing as I was." He pushed himself up, looking through the verdure to an empty desert. "Unless I'm mistaken, not much of a garden here for you to guard."

"Precisely, there isn't," said Aziraphale, visibly brightening, more confident, when Crowley furrowed his brow and opened his mouth in confusion. "Humans are free to roam about wherever they like now," Aziraphale explained, "even if they're harder to keep track of. And angels are tasked to give them inspiration and blessings."

"Yeah, but," Crowley said, reluctant to disagree when the angel had given so content and cute a wiggle in his seat, "doesn't look like there's many humans around for inspiring or blessing."

"No," Aziraphale relented, casting his gaze downward and fidgeting with his fingers. "Actually, there aren't many yet at all, certainly not enough for all us angels to keep busy, so I- I'm waiting for them to do their whole--" he scrunched up his nose and flapped his hands in front of him, “’go forth and multiply’ing… thing…”

“Uh-huh.” Crowley leaned to once side and then the other before tipping off his branch, catching himself one the perch with one elbow and swinging one leg up to hang from his knee. “And, while you’re waiting for that,” he said, tipping his head back to look at Aziraphale, “you could come fly with me to–”

“I most certainly could not.”

“You should,” Crowley countered. “If for nothing else, because you’ll get stiff just sitting there.”

Aziraphale gave his head a quick and resolute shake. “But I won’t.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “You won’t get stiff?”

“No,” Aziraphale huffed with an exasperated smile, “I won’t go flittering about. Angels aren’t meant to…” He trailed off, brow furrowed as he sought for words. Instead, he gave a shaky wave with his hands, as though that gesture wasn’t equally vague.

“Fly?” Crowley guessed.

Aziraphale gave another huff, part impatient and part amused. “Obviously. We, no, um… There’s a certain level of professionalism to…” He’d run out of words again. Crowley wondered if the Lord’s precious humans would be so kind as to one day make up a way for someone to communicate with their hands for beings like poor Aziraphale. (Probably would, clever things.) As it was, the angel said no more, but his inability to articulate in concert with his anxious hands and wide eyes spoke bounds.

Professionalism, hm? Ah. Crowley guessed again, words slow and eyebrows rising. “You’re not meant to have fun?”

At that, Aziraphale nodded, the tension in his shoulders and wings dropping, and a relieved smile gracing his cheeks. An answer, even one delivered so astonishedly as Crowley’s had been, evidently was enough to settle him. “Yes. Far too busy.”

“Let me get this straight.” Crowley unbent the two limbs suspending him from his branch, languidly loosing them so he could drop down sit beside Aziraphale on his lower branch. “Lord of all light and goodness,” he wiggled his fingers upward, “made all this world for you to serve and forbade you to enjoy any of it?”

“Not forbade, but serving does come first” Aziraphale replied, seeming only have just realized Crowley was now beside him. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands in his lap. Crowley cocked his head curiously; no more hand-flapping or chin-wagging, then. The angel had let himself out of his box enough for one day.

“Well,” said Crowley, clapping his palms to his thighs and pushing off until he tipped backwards and into freefall. His wings caught him with practiced ease just beneath the tree’s canopy, but he definitely delighted in the angel’s startled jolting and almost reaching to try and catch him. “Have fun sitting in your nest.” He gave the angel a salute, then touched a finger to his head. “Or don’t have fun, I guess, whichever. I’ll be up there.” Crowley pointed upward, then snorted. “I mean, ‘up there’ like the sky, not ‘up there’ like– you know what I mean.”

The last he saw of Aziraphale before flying off was cherub cheeks glowing an embarrassed pink and hands all but anchored to his robed lap. Crowley’s wings beat fast and hard, arms thrown wide, and soon he was back amongst the cloud. Which way he’d been intending to go, he had no idea, so he hailed the first wind gale and let himself float along it. His thoughts, which usually wandered just as aimlessly as the winds, were stubbornly pointed downward and behind him.

Oh, an angel didn’t want to have fun, what a shocker. Let him sit in his tree, bored, all he wanted. Angel didn’t know what he was missing.

Crowley’s wind carried him to an ocean that would one day be called the Red Sea, passing him off to an air distinctly cooler and tasting of salt. Beneath him, the blue vastness stretched on toward the horizon, in no time at all swallowing up the desert he’d come from until he was flying over only sea. Ocean above, ocean below, even from so high up, he could see no end to either. Beautiful. Peaceful. Lonely.

The sighed Crowley exhaled was ocean-deep. Angel didn’t know what he was missing.

Banking hard, Crowley dove under and out of his wind current, flying lower and closer to the sea as he trekked back toward land. A spray-laden breeze spurred him on, carrying him like a leaf riding the rolling waves.

He couldn’t just pull the angel from his tree. Well. He could, of course, literally. But he couldn’t pull him from where he’d metaphorically rooted himself. Maybe there was a figurative middle ground at which to meet him.

Literal ground came into view, and Crowley slowed until he’d lighted on a beach. He stood there a moment, hands on his hips and lips pursed and wings stretching, thinking. Stewing. Any other angel, Crowley probably wouldn’t have been so stuck on. But Aziraphale wasn’t any other angel. He had a little devil in him, or he wouldn’t have talked with a devil in the first place. An angel’s stuffiness didn’t suit him; even if he was prim, it wasn’t like he’d had much chance to be anything else. To try anything else. He wanted to have fun; Crowley knew he did. Crowley watched the waves tumble onto the sands with thunderous yawns, listened to the gulls’ distant disgruntled cries as they squabbled over dinner. The ocean was just as vast from below. If only he could have Aziraphale standing next to him, get him to see all there was to see.

Something scuttled over his foot, and he brought his gaze down. A small crab, no bigger than his thumb, had elected that the risk of invading a demon’s personal space was worth the few seconds it’d safe on its journey. Crowley stepped back–obligingly, not because the creature had startled him; he was far scarier than a crab, thank you–and crouched down to watch the crab scurry on. The sand beneath them both was warm and deep, too, shifting beneath Crowley’s feet in miniscule landslides of grains too many to count. Crowley snickered; some poor angel had to have been saddled with the task to count sand and pour it out on the earth, he was sure. There were shells atop the sandy scape, too, and stones already being smoothed down from the waves’ crashing. Crowley picked up one of each, a pretty little brown spiral and a slate rock hewn quite flat. After a second of consideration, he reeled back his arm and tossed the stone out across the ocean, grinning when it jumped four times across the surface before sinking into the water. Like it was skipping. Snickering proudly, he scooped up another such stone and tucked it safely alongside the shell into one of the many folds of his robe. (Like gravity, the robe was willing to ignore space and mass to allow Crowley to carry more things. Very considerate.) He walked a few paces further, gathering up a small piece of driftwood, another rock with an interesting texture, and, deciding the risk of getting pinched was worth it, the crab. Then, back into the air, he went.

Time was still funny. After the big seven days at the beginning had been counted, the calendar had gotten a little messy. Humans would probably benefit from it, get a few more weeks or years or centuries in change from days not counted for the sun having forgotten to have been set. Maybe some angel would be appointed to sort that out eventually and keep time organized. As it was, Crowley didn’t know how long he’d been gone from Aziraphale’s tree. A few hours? A few days? It was easy to get lost up in the air and up in one’s thoughts. What he did know was that it had been long enough for Aziraphale to fall asleep.

Angels didn’t need to sleep. It had been a design feature. Too much to do. But, as Crowley clambered into the tree once more, he saw a blonde head tipped back, eyes closed and jaw relaxed.

“Hey, angel!” Crowley crowed and jabbed a finger into Aziraphale’s side, already grinning.

Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open, and he jolted forward with a yelp, floundering with his wings to get his balance back while one hand gripped his branch and the other was pressed affrontedly to his heaving chest. When was no longer in danger of falling, Aziraphale’s focus shifted squarely to Crowley, all dagger-glares and flushed cheeks. Crowley couldn’t help laughing, which, he realized, was all too easy to do around Aziraphale. “Crowley! That was–! You startled me!”

With a shrug and lingering snickers, Crowley moved to Aziraphale’s perch, sitting down beside him. “Just helping you out, angel. You were working so hard before; would hate to see your higher-ups find you dozing.”

Whatever retort or further scolding Aziraphale had intended to give fizzled away in his flapping mouth. He pressed his lips tight together and turned his pink face away slightly, and Crowley wondered if he was trying to keep himself from coming up with an excuse or, God forbid, breathing a lie.

With a chuckle, Crowley reached into his robes, elbowing Aziraphale’s side as he did. “I’m just teasing. I wouldn’t want to see your higher-ups at all.” At that, the line of Aziraphale’s lip wobbled, the muscle of his cheek twitching like it ached to pull upward. Crowley’s grin was unabashed. “Anyway, hopefully this will make up for it.”

Aziraphale jumped when he found himself with hands full of small silly objects. “What’s this?” he asked, juggling them for a moment before laying the treasures in his lap. The offended crab stayed determinedly pinched to the hem of his sleeve, but the other trinkets spread out nicely upon the fabric his white robe in a flattering little display.

“Figured,” explained Crowley, holding a hand out to catch the crab when it eventually tired, “since angels are allergic to having fun and going to new places, it’d be a shame for you to not even see things from those places.” Moreso, it was its own temptation, but nothing Crowley had been instructed to do. He hoped that, if Aziraphale saw pretty little things from somewhere else, maybe he’d want to go there more than he’d want to do his nothing job. Maybe want to do nothing together. Maybe.

“Oh.” The angel’s gaze hadn’t left the little exhibit. His eyes wandered between the objects, and, slowly, he let his hand–the one not currently being clambered up by a crustacean–trail over them, tentative and featherlight. Gentle. Reverent. Crowley tore his own gaze from Aziraphale’s hands back to his face. The flustered blush had faded, and his eyes were as bright as Crowley had ever seen them, positively shining. “Thank you. I suppose.”

The verbal response was so detached from the visual one that Crowley snorted. Right, so, angels didn’t know how to receive gifts (albeit, admittedly, they were as new to the concept as any other earthling). Maybe that was enough of an excuse to give him more gifts.

"No one's ever given me-- ow." Aziraphale looked up from his treasures to the crab that had scaled his sleeve and delivered a disgruntled pinch to his arm. He smiled, regarding the little creature with eyes still bright. "No one's ever given me a crab. Excuse me, my fine little fellow?"

"Well, I wasn't planning repeats anyway, but definitely no crabs next time." Crowley jabbed at the crab with his finger. "Oi."

The crab promptly let go of Aziraphale to brandish both pincers at Crowley.

"Ow," he said when the crab latched onto his nail. "Fine, read you loud and clear, I'll give you a lift home." He tucked the little devil into his pockets and looked back to Aziraphale, who'd gone red again. "Don't look so terrified, angel. He's safe in there, you're safe out here."

Aziraphale's response was quiet. "Next time?"

"'Next--'?" Crowley's eyebrows furrowed, then rose to his hairline. 'Next time' that he brought the angel a gift. Well, he hadn't meant to speak that implication into the universe. Whoops. "Ahm, s-- so. You want to come with me to escort the little thing home?"

"I can't," Aziraphale sighed, but he was cradling the smooth stone and tracing it with his fingertips.

"Busy, right." Crowley scooted forward and off the branch, into the air. "Well, sleep tight."

Maybe not the best time to tease when the angel had a stone in his hand, but Crowley could get used to seeing Aziraphale blush before flying off.

He was still seeing red, and is was just as adorable, while he lay on his belly on the warm beach sand, fending off the little crab from pinching his nose with one hand.

"You were no help back there," Crowley told his tiny bloodthirsty foe, parrying away a jab with his index finger. Only after delivering a few nasty blows to Crowley’s knuckles and fingertips was the vengeful crab, at last, satisfied, scuttling off into the surf. Crowley mussed his hair with both hands before letting his head loll forward, resting his forehead on the sand and mindlessly scratching lines into the sand with his fingers.

Not a total failure of a plan, but not a complete success, either, with or without the aid of Captain Stabby. He hadn’t gotten the angel out of his nest, but at least he now had something to keep from being bored to sleep. Crowley wasn’t usually averse to giving up, but he could be pretty stubborn. And maybe he had a pretty big crush. But that wasn’t the point! Aziraphale was perhaps the only angel to speak to, let alone be kind to Crowley after his fall. He was too sweet a soul to deserve being benched from all of Earth’s joys for a few centuries just because he didn’t technically have work to do. Crowley couldn’t let him be stuck like that.

Resolved, Crowley lifted his head and determined to come up with another plan. Watching the waves crash and turn over, so he shuffled through the thoughts and ideas in his mind. Giving Aziraphale things hadn’t swayed him enough to move from his perch, even if those things had obviously delighted him. (More than obviously, but Crowley didn’t yet know how Aziraphale had carefully tucked all of the little beach treasures safely into his own pockets.) Perhaps, instead of showing the angel how much fun could be had somewhere else by collecting things from that somewhere, Crowley could make him feel that right where he was. Hard to replicate the feeling of being on a warm beach, soaking in the sun and listening to the sea, while in reality sitting in a gnarled old tree. A different feeling, perhaps. A different place. Crowley’s most favorite place was the sky; as an angel, Aziraphale would be well acquainted with how good flying could be. But how to make him feel that way from the ground? It wasn’t like he could collect bits of cloud and wind.

Crowley looked up at the clouds, following the bright white hilltops and grey flat plains with his eyes. No angel designed them or upkept them; the wind pulled and pushed and shaped them, taking them and making them to its whim. Like it took Crowley. From in their midst, clouds looked mostly like great pale curtains. From below, Crowley could almost see fluffy sheep and snowy mountaintops in their formless shapes. Chaos, random chance, channeled to make something substantial. Collecting hadn’t work to replicate feelings; why wouldn’t making something?

Demons loved making stuff. Creativity had been made to be a human trait, but demons, by principal, had the bad habit of doing things they weren’t supposed to. It was fun in so many ways. To come up with and then make something overcomplicated, accidentally brilliant, or absolute bullshit nonsense–and then to see what humans did with it. It was invigorating, cathartic, and hilarious.

What, what, what could Crowley make for his angel? It actually wasn’t too hard yet, to think up something unique, occupying such an early chapter of history. Still, he wanted it to be special. Moving. Figuratively and literally. What did he feel when flying, and how could he make that happen down here? How to ruffle an angel’s feathers without wind?

Crowley looked at the squiggling furrows his fingers had left in the sand. They had been made without intention, for the satisfying scraping sounds and gritty shifting texture as he thought. But, now, they gave him an idea. Hands could ruffle feathers, sure. He looked over his shoulder and reached back to give his own feathers an experimental ruffle. Yup, that could work. Like the waves crashing over one another, Crowley’s thoughts started to race, spurred as he looked backward. Hands ruffling feathers, fingers buried in sand, feet bare in soft grass. He thought of one human he’d seen poke another in the side and how the second had recoiled with a smile before they’d both gone back to fishing. He thought of how it felt when an itchy leave wriggled its way down his robe. He thought of how it felt when an angry little crab scittered across his skin. He thought of an angel’s beaming smile and bright eyes. He had many thoughts, but he had one idea. One idea for something absolutely nonsensical and extremely silly, and, when he eventually workshopped a name for it, he’d call it tickling.

But, one unnamed idea in hand, Crowley flew up from his sandy sunning spot and back in the direction of a now very familiar tree.

“I saw you coming this time,” Aziraphale declared when Crowley all but crashed into the tree with how fast he’d been flying.

Crowley scoffed, picking twigs from his crimson hair. “I would hope so, between how many eyes you have and how much noise I was made landing.”

Aziraphale set his eyes heavenward, as close as he seemed to get to rolling them.

“Why?” Crowley said as he sat down next to the angel. “Were you watching for me?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come again,” Aziraphale admitted, cheeks going rosy and fingers worrying a small brown shell.

For a moment, Crowley’s heart beat loud and eager in his ears. He kept it. No time to be swept up in that thought, though; he was far too busy with the task at hand. Crowley cleared his throat and shrugged, moving to sit close enough to Aziraphale that their knees touched. “Had to. I had another gift for you.”

“Oh?” The angel’s eyes lit up excitedly, even as he tried to look professional. “From where this time?”

“From me. I made it up. For you.” Crowley stuck out his tongue and cursed his own ears for burning. “Ngk– I’ll show you.”

Before the angel could offer any turnabout teasing for Crowley being the one flushed and at a loss for words (because, Crowley just knew, there was enough devil in Aziraphale to absolutely turn the tables given the opportunity), Crowley thrust his hands beneath Aziraphale’s folded wings, wiggling his fingers to muss the feathers and scribble at the muscle beneath.

“Ah–!” Aziraphale yelped, his wings swinging out wide to escape the surely strange feeling. Crowley only targeted the space closer to Aziraphale’s shoulders instead. “What are you–?” Aziraphale tried to ask through laughter that seemed to be building and bubbling quite irresistibly from his chest, “What are you doing?”

“I’m tickling you,” Crowley explained, crawling his wiggling fingers from Aziraphale’s wings, down his shoulder blades and under his arms. “Not sure about the name yet, but I figured vessel nerves usual react for preservation. Why not make them react to something fun?”

Perhaps for preservation against this new attack, Aziraphale tried to lean back and away from Crowley, flapping his wings and batting at his hands. The tickling under his arms, though, had him curling up and laughing enough to mostly rob him of words once again. “This isn’t–!”

“This isn’t fun?” Crowley guessed, puffing out his lower lip. “Now, is that because it’s actually not fun, or because you, as an angel, could not possibly be having fun?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale squealed, and Crowley grinned, downright devilish.

“I mean, if it’s not fun, why are you laughing? Laughing means you’re happy, yeah?” he teased, slipping his hands from under Aziraphale’s arms to set his dancing fingers loose upon his stomach.

Aziraphale was nearly horizontal, leaned so far away from Crowley and wings and hands flapping weakly. When Crowley’s next attack targeted his stomach, Aziraphale loosed a merry wail before tumbling into bright laughter that made the lines by his eyes crinkle happily and the breath in his throat catch wheezily. And oh, his laugh was perfect. All the pristine stuffy angel was gone, drowned out by the loud, head-thrown-back, wrinkled nose, toothy, shoulder-scrunching, belly-shaking laughter. It suited him.

Crowley had some mercy, switching from digging and scratching to poking and wiggling. “It is supposed to mean you’re happy, right?” he asked, for a moment concerned he might accidentally kill the angel. He certainly looked happy, and he hadn’t been doing much to push Crowley away, but… “I came up with tickling, but I’m not yet fully clear on…”

A still-giggling Aziraphale blinked through laughter-induced tears–tears were sad; had he become so happy, he was sad?–to look at Crowley, his gaze an odd but warm mix of fond and sympathetic and sweet and teasing and just losing the edge of hysterical. Just that look nearly bowled Crowley onto his back.

“Oh well!” Crowley exclaimed, a little too loudly. “I’ve got to perfect my new little game for you. And you,” he grinned as Aziraphale grew all the redder and scrunched his neck, “you just stop laughing if you stop being happy.”

Aziraphale didn’t stop laughing, but he didn’t stop squirming either. In fact, when Crowley set out to practice until perfect by testing other techniques to see what would tickle and started squeezing the soft spots of Aziraphale’s stomach and sides, the angel thrashed so exuberantly that he rolled right off the branch. Crowley followed, and, in a mess of feathers and flapping wings, the two tumbled from the tree and into the desert scrub grass.

With how much of a reaction squeezing had gotten, Crowley continued doing it, chasing Aziraphale’s laughter down along his thighs and behind his knees. With more ground on which to metaphorically stand, Aziraphale did put up a bit more of a fight, and Crowley was sure no one who pictured wrestling an angel would conjure that image. Of the angel with a wide smile beaming like the sun, of the demon getting the upper hand by jamming his thumbs into the angel’s hips until the later collapsed backward with a snorting cackle, of the adoration in the demon’s eyes as he tickled the angel apart piece by piece. Crowley rounded back, at last able to get one of Aziraphale’s wings pinned under his knee and burrowing the fingers of one hand into the wing pit and the fingers of the other into the soft stomach and vibrating both sets until the angel was wheezing.

Crowley had had about a dozen other ideas for this tickling thing once Aziraphale had actually been under his hands, but he had actually succeeded in getting Aziraphale from his tree, and he didn’t want to overwhelm with too much of his brilliant new idea. He pulled his hands back to a featherlight crawl, tracing the fair hair of Aziraphale’s forearms with the tips of his fingers and the tops of his feet with the tips of his black wings. The angel, thoroughly spent and thoroughly happy, lay giggling and content, hands twitching and stomach jumping but otherwise still. Eventually, all Crowley’s movement stopped as well, transfixed by the sight beneath him.

Here lay Aziraphale, opalescent wings thrown wide and with feathers mussed, perfect curled hair a tousled mess, hysterically happy smile stuck to his cheeks, tears drying on his cheeks, chest heaving from a belly full of screaming laughter. Crowley fell from on top of him, laying beside Aziraphale with a smile of his own. Perfect.

“That was fun,” Aziraphale said, eyes closed and smiling so gently that Crowley simply couldn’t bear to gloat just then. (He would eventually gloat. A lot. But not just then.)

“Yeah, it was.” Crowley lay beside Aziraphale, reveling in the validation of a successful plan and good idea, as well as the echoing angelic laughter still gracing his ears. He turned his head when Aziraphale pushed himself to sit up.

“Well, it will be a bit before humans fully populate the earth anyway.” Aziraphale stood, brushing off a bit of sand from his robes and producing the shell and a rock from them to make sure they had survived the fall, and holding out a hand to Crowley. “You can lead the way to that ocean you were so keen about, and you can tell me more about your creation. I haven’t ever laughed like that, have you?”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and stood, shaking his head. “Just when I catch a really good breeze, but even then…”

“Ah. Well, I liked your gifts. Can I share this one?”

The demon was struck with the absurd image of angels dropping like flies around the old garden under the menace that would be Aziraphale the tickle angel. He snorted. “Sure, if you want.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders happily and stretched out his wings. “I’d like to tickle you then, so you can laugh like that, and I can see it.”

Something in Crowley’s mind popped. Full of ideas as it had been minutes earlier, it was amazingly empty at Aziraphale’s proposal. With all the excitement the demon had had coming up with the idea and developing it, he had not once considered it being turned against him. Regifted. He was struck with another image, this time of himself, pinned under Aziraphale, at his mercy, laughing like flying. That image actually struck him as quite lovely, but it did also make his ears burn like hellfire. “Well!” Crowley said, kicking up off the ground and hovering a few feet above it. “One fun thing at a time. Ocean?”

Aziraphale nodded, smiled, and shot up into the air like a feathery stone shot by a sling. “Race you!”

“Hey!” Crowley laughed, chasing after him.

~*~

Crowley had come up with it, but Aziraphale had made it his own. And had inspired Crowley to coin the term ‘tickle monster.’

Such inspiration came to Crowley in an instance much like the one he found himself in at present: head tipped back against the cottage bedroom door, cheeks and chest aching from laughing, knees wobbly, so high and happy that the only thing keeping him from floating away was Aziraphale holding him (quite nicely after so evilly pinning him there earlier), stroking his fingertips along Crowley’s hips and sides, slow, featherlight, gentle, reverent.

“This may have been the best gift ever given,” Aziraphale chuckled, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s neck and leaning back with a proud wiggle.

Crowley lifted his arms, still a bit jelly-like, to wrap around Aziraphale’s shoulders, holding him close and keeping himself upright. “And it got me a hefty promotion way back when.”

Aziraphale laughed, “What?!”

“Yeah,” Crowley grinned, crooked and dizzy. “’Oh, Crowley, what an ingenious torture method, all the fun of hysteria with no marks left behind!’”

He let his head fall onto Aziraphale’s shoulder, giggling, as Aziraphale smothered his own laughter in his hand.

“But,” Crowley said, lifting his head but still too boneless to actually hold it up and so letting it thump back against the door, “you are by far more evil with it, so I may have taken credit where I was not due.”

“How rude,” Aziraphale tutted, giving Crowley a little scratch to one hip that had him crumpling sideways and squeaking. The angel caught him easily, supporting him around the waist and gently tickling his back to get him to purr and slump further into Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Well, whatever the offices took it for, I am very grateful.” He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead and smiled. “Very happy with it.”

“Good,” Crowley mumbled, “because I didn’t keep the receipt.”

#NOTHING COULD HAVE PREPARED ME FOR THIS #i have not consumed a single ounce of good omens but goshdangit i love reading fics about these two #stuff like this genuinely makes me want to get into it #SO SWEET 😭😭😭#lee!aziraphale #ler!crowley #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowly x aziraphale #aziracrow

201 notes · View notes

fluffy-ami · 1 year ago

Text

they squishy they cuddly (i am dying inside so here have some random quick silly doodles and don't forget to click for better quality lmao) ✨🌸

#i finished it. i cried. i ate an egg. then cried some more.#pls oh my god my poor fragile heart wasn't ready for it #bye i'm dead ✋🏻💀#anyway-#good omens #tickling #tickle art #ami's art #my stuff #lee!crowley #ler!aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale #sick with the flu but i MUST-☝🏻#we do be copin'#OKAY DON'T LOOK AT ME I'M GONNA GET BACK TO WORK I SWEAR ✏️✏️✏️

311 notes · View notes

fluffomatic · 1 year ago

Text

Another commission for @beautifulpocketbean of Crowley from Good Omens getting wrecked by her Omens insert :) Glad you like it!

(My art don't repost but please reblog)

#my art #my artwork #tickling #tickle art #tickle #tickles #my art stuff #others oc #canon x oc #ticklish!crowley #lee!crowley #ler!oc #romantic tickles #sfw tickles #commission #art commisions #commission art

120 notes · View notes

z0mb13p0sts · 2 months ago

Note

Hello and welcome to Tumblr, it's always a pleasure to meet new writers of tk content. I'd like to request a fic, if it's not too much trouble.

I'd like a Seraph Of The End fic, where Ferid Bathory tickles Yuu, Mika, or Crowley. (I will leave that to your choice)

Hello and thank you! And for your request, yes, I can make that work! But it may take a while, so I apologize for that.

#tickle fic #seraph of the end #ler!ferid #sfw tickling community #sfw tickles #lee!mika #lee!yuu #lee!crowley

3 notes · View notes

blueberrygiggles · 2 years ago

Text

i love your smile, my dear

Fandom: Good Omens

Lee!Crowley and Ler!Aziraphale

a/n: dude i rewatched good omens for the millionth time and now i need to write about it. also i haven't read the book, so this is the tv show canon! this can be read as platonic or romantic.

ao3 mirror: XX

Crowley, when he could, enjoyed visiting the bookshop. It was peaceful, it was quiet, and most importantly it had decent company.

Aziraphale was almost always there when he visited, either reorganizing the books, taking notes, translating a book, or even on the rare occasion, seeing a customer who wished to sell their book to the shop.

Sometimes they didn't talk, other times they say together shared a few drinks, they've even tried to watch human tv shows. Anything Crowley could do to get his mind of whatever he was despairing over, they could do.

This time, however, he was sitting on the couch in the back room, his legs resting over Aziraphale's lap while the other rested a book on his legs. Crowley listened to his music, some of his favorite Queen songs while his companion read. It was peaceful in a way most demons didn't get to live through. And he loved it.

He couldn't tell how long they had been there, Crowley wouldn't be surprised if he fell asleep. He didn't want to check the time, nor did he need too. He craned his neck slightly to peak at Aziraphale, he has a small smile on his face, he had yet to brung it up, but he loves the stubble Aziraphale had started to grow.

Crowley leaned back down, content to take a nap while listening to the record in the background, the rustle of paper whenever Aziraphale turned a page, but he flinched.

He felt his lips curl, his stomach grew warm, and a flush traveled to his neck. He felt a tickle.

Nails were gliding up and down his thigh, slow and light. A giggle rose to his throat but he swallowed it down.

Aziraphale likely didn't know he was fidgeting, but Crowley sure did. He couldn't bring himself to let himself react to any of the tickles lest he interrupt his reading.

His hand went lower towards his knees, Crowley slapped his fist over his mouth to keep the laugh in. Aziraphale stopped his ministrations.

"Everything alright?"

Crowley gulped, "Yes, why?"

He shrugged, "Just wondering why you jumped?"

"Chills, Angel." He said.

Aziraphale took the answer and refocused on his book. Crowley was given several minutes of reprieve before he felt the same hands back on his knee.

A giggle escaped him before he could force it back down, he thought he could keep his composure, but the squeezing, broke him down bit by bit until he couldn't hold back the snort.

"Angehehehel?"

No response, but the squeezing got faster, Crowley covered his face with the crook of his arm.

"Azihihirahaphahahale! Stahahap!"

Aziraphale closed his book, turning to face him while moving his hands up to squeeze his thighs, "Stop what, Crowley? You look a bit giggly, is something funny?"

Crowley cackled, he let his arms cover his face to hide his smile. He couldn't make out a plea let alone a full sentence.

He could barely keep the smile off his face, "You know, if you told me what was so funny, I could help."

Of course that bastard knew what he was doing.

Crowley growled through his laughs, "Yohohou assshohoholehe!"

No response from Aziraphale, he just kept tickling his thighs, each second that passed the smile grew bigger in his face. Crowley turned his face into the couch pillow, Aziraphale tsked.

"You know I love your smile, my dear."

He could feel his face warm with a flush, his senses were in fire, but he couldn't bring himself to make Aziraphale stop, not when it was kind of fun.

A lot of fun.

Whatever, he wouldn't admit that, but he was content to not tell him to stop.

#blues writing #lee! crowley #ler! aziraphale #tickle fic #im so sorry i didnt know how to end this lol #good omens tickle

52 notes · View notes

flames-tstuff · 11 months ago

Text

CUUUUTE

Merry (late- I apologize!!) Christmas to @rosileeduckie with a drawing of crowley x aziraphale (good omens) 🌟

"Is your partners hands cold during the winter- give them a warm pair of gloves! It's a harmless gift... right?^^"

#good omens #ineffable husbands #lee!crowley #ler!aziraphale

236 notes · View notes

marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 year ago

Text

Supernatural Masterlist:

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader:

Stay With Me

Too Old

Liar

Liar Part 2

Protector

Sweet

Priorities

Face Your Fears

The Best Present

Too Much (little sister version)

Tortured Headcannons

A Family Lost, a Family Found

Sleep Tight

Ler!Dean Headcannons

Sam Winchester & little sister!reader:

Betrayal

Betrayal Part 2

Pride, Prejudice, and Pennywise

Ler!Sam Headcannons, Part 2

Lee!Sam Winchester Headcannons

Safe Distance

Squeeze Once, Squeeze Twice

Winchester brothers & little sister!reader:

Just a Girl

Shotgun

Playing Hooky

Book Dragon

Jolly Holidays

Thunder

Band-aids and Biker Gangs

Not Alone

Accidents and Promises

Safety First

Universal Love

Hey Jude

Big Brother

Shots and Surprises

Workout Buddy

Where to Run

Sleep Tight

Burn Out

Wedding Jitters

Useless

Birthday Pie

Migraine Ministrations

Look Alike

A Real Family

Uncaged Masterlist

Winchester Brothers & John & Reader

Old Blood, New Family

Castiel & reader

My Angel

Gabriel & daughter!reader

(TFW & Gabriel’s daughter!reader): Chances

Kevin Tran x Winchester!reader

Running with You

Various Characters

Adoption Agency (Dean, Sam, reader, Claire, Charlie, Jody, Ben, Cassie Je (oc)

Hate You (Kidding) (Crowley & daughter)

Picking Sides (TFW + Mary & Winchester!reader)

Team Free Will & Winchester!reader

Concerning Habits

509 notes · View notes

carrie-tate · 1 year ago

Note

If it's still time for art requests could i request smth too? Ur art is cool and wanted to request smth too!!

Anyways if it's not a bother, how about !lee crowley and !ler aziraphele? Again ur art is cool good job with it!!

Oh my dear friend, I'm rly sorry for keeping you waiting!! For some time I had absolutely no time for drawing, BUT now I can slowly sometimes return to old requests and this is such a case!

I desperately needed something with these two after the 2nd season finale, so it was a joy to make this art!

(although it took a lot of energy out of me, it’s a pleasant tiredness)

Anyway, I hope you like it, thanks for the request!

#talk #art #request #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #tickle art

228 notes · View notes

ticklishfiend · 1 year ago

Text

Limitless Bond (Good Omens)

(Switch!Crowley/Switch!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale and Crowley have a tickle fight during their cute little movie night.

a/n : i’ve been aziracrow pilled there’s a worm in my brain screaming abt them at all times edit: reading this back i’ve realized i’ve never seen a single james bond film so take it with a grain of salt lmao

Word Count : 2892

hope u enjoy :D

. . .

Let’s do some math for a second.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth together for 6000 years. They’ve been in each other's lives as hundreds, thousands of human generations around them lived and died. And yet, only in the 4 years after the apocalypse did they dare truly bask in one another’s touch. In 0.00066667% of the time they’ve known each other, Aziraphale and Crowley taught themselves to be truly comfortable in one another’s presence, learning about each other in ways they never thought possible.

Try not to think too hard on the numbers. It’s quite difficult sometimes for humans to grasp an occult being’s concept of time. Time for angels and demons is so wildly different from anything a human could ever experience, and that is exactly what makes Aziraphale and Crowley’s love for each other so special and unique. Their time is limitless, so their love is limitless.

What a human can comprehend, however, is how infuriatingly frustrating their relationship must be considering the fact they refuse to actually talk about it. Non-humans are funny like that.

Why put it into words when they both know it’s there? Intrinsically, they feel it, they know it without a shadow of a doubt, and yet somehow they are both still too scared to talk. If they do, it’ll make it real. Their love could literally break down celestial systems incomprehensible to the human mind. Or it could just result in some nasty paperwork. Either way, both sound horrific, and are things the angel and demon are silently working together to avoid.

Whether they ever choose to talk about it or not, those 4 years were magic on Earth.

During that time, Crowley learned that Aziraphale’s hair might even be softer than his wings. Aziraphale learned scratching Crowley’s back when he’s sleepy makes the demon smile without knowing he’s moving a muscle. A demon taught an angel to love roughhousing, and an angel taught a demon the joys of a good cuddle.

But possibly their new favorite physical affection to take advantage of was one they learned together on a casual, cozy movie night.

Aziraphale grinned as Crowley strolled into the bedroom, “I’ve never seen that shirt before.”

Crowley pulled the shirt down to show it off, giving a little wiggle.“What, you don’t like Bond?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Aziraphale, “But I’ve never actually watched the titular James Bond films, so I can’t really say anything,” he said with a teasing tilt in his voice. He knew he’d get a reaction out of such a ghastly confession.

Crowley gaped, stuttering over incomplete words in shock, “Wha—you, you never—I mean—angel, that’s gotta be illegal. Seriously, if I phoned the FEDs right now they’d probably swarm in here guns-a blazing for your crimes,” Crowley shook his head, throwing himself onto the bed next to Aziraphale. “We’re watching it now, I don’t care. You’re lucky I got you this TV set up last month.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly, but didn’t argue. “You can’t be mad at me if it’s not my cup of tea. You know the kind of films I prefer, and I don’t think these fit the list.”

“No no you’ll love it. Got all that romantic filler your heavenly heart desires,” Crowley said, the TV turning on with a flick of his wrist as he settled comfortably against his angel.

They watched together in an easy silence, Aziraphale trying to really gather everything he could from a movie he knows Crowley loves so dearly. He’s not even sure which Bond movie they’re watching at the moment, but he assumes it’s Crowley’s favorite.

But during an intense shootout scene, Aziraphale does get a little bored. He’s always preferred scenes of great dialogue, heartfelt moments passing between characters. Right now he’s just seeing mediocre special effects and lots of screaming. He gets the appeal, sort of, but it’s just not his thing.

Crowley on the other hand was as tuned in as ever. Aziraphale smiled as he watched his friend’s intense expression, seeing Crowley suppress his excitement over a movie he knows he’s had to have seen dozens of times now.

His gaze wanders back down to Crowley’s torso, “Where did you get that shirt? Really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it.”

Crowley blinked like snapping out of a trance, trying to look nonchalant as insecurity trickled over him. “Oh, this thing? M’not sure I recall,” he snuggled deeper into Aziraphale’s chest, “It’s my night shirt. Don’t wear it often.”

Aziraphale squinted. “You’re ‘not sure you recall’?”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, yellow eyes bearing into blue, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Aziraphale looked puzzled, shaking Crowley’s shoulder playfully and smiling at the hiss it produced, “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, stop pestering me,” Crowley growled, but it was entirely unconvincing with that playful grin on his face. He faced the TV again as if his mind wasn’t completely on the angel holding him tight.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Aziraphale giggled, “It can’t be that bad, darling, it’s just a t-shirt.”

Crowley groaned, hiding his face in Aziraphale’s chest, “Nooooo nonononono, I’m not talking,” he said, words muffled in Aziraphale’s silk pajamas.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows playfully, rubbing up and down Crowley’s back through the shirt in question. “You know, humans have this fun little game they play to make someone reveal funny secrets. I only wonder if it will actually work on a demon.”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with a suspicious glare, “The hell are you talking about?”

Aziraphale said nothing, giving a nonchalant hum. Instead, he moved his hand down Crowley’s back towards his ribs, giving it a quick pinch.

Crowley squawked, arching away but getting caught in Aziraphale’s hold. He snapped a look Aziraphale’s way, “Do not.”

Aziraphale giggled in glee, wanting to clap his hands together but needing to hold Crowley close. “I wasn’t sure it would work!”

“Angel-“ Crowley growled.

“A ticklish demon. How silly~” Aziraphale sang, tickling into Crowley’s ribs without wasting any more time.

Crowley bit off a yelp, twisting in Aziraphale’s grip as if he was trying to get away (he wasn’t, but he’s allowed to play along). But Aziraphale kept pinching and prodding and finally Crowley just couldn’t hold back anymore, letting out a peal of giggles and laughs that had Aziraphale cooing.

“Nonononohohoho!” Crowley shook his head into Aziraphale’s chest, hiding his smile. His arm was a little stuck under Aziraphale’s back, so there wasn’t much else he could do.

“Saying no is what started this, dear,” Aziraphale smiled, bringing his other hand around to tickle into Crowley’s neck, relishing in how high-pitched those giggles became. “Goodness, how ticklish are you?”

“I don’t knohohow! Not tryna fihihind out-!” Crowley squeaked out the last word, finding out his ears are especially sensitive to perfectly manicured fingernails.

Crowley squirmed like a worm on a hook, pushing against Aziraphale without even meaning to, his head shaking back and forth like a protest to his giggles.

Aziraphale gasped, “Is this your first time being tickled, Crowley?”

“Stohohop!” Crowley guffawed, hardly taking in the angel’s words.

“I asked you a question,” he said simply, pinching at Crowley’s belly and watching Crowley’s feet kick the sheets.

“Fuhuhucker!” was all Crowley could get out.

“Oh alright,” Aziraphale reluctantly halted his attack, carding fingers through Crowley’s hair. “I said, was that your first time being tickled?”

Crowley huffed, pouting against Aziraphale’s chest and keeping his gaze on the TV. “You’re not even watching the movie.”

The angel chuckled lightly, giving Crowley’s head a tender kiss. “It’s a lovely movie, darling, but it’s hardly as interesting as this little discovery.”

Crowley grumbled, mumbling a response into the silk pajamas.

“What was that dear?”

Crowley lifted his head with a devious look on his face, “I said you’re a prick,” Crowley dug into Aziraphale’s sides, grinning wickedly at how wide his angel’s eyes became.

“AH! Cr-Crohohowley!” Aziraphale fell gracefully into his giggle fit, expelling his excess energy by gripping onto Crowley’s wrists.

“So I take it you’ve never been tickled either?” said Crowley as he wiggled into the angel’s ribs, biting his own cheek when Aziraphale threw his head back in laughter.

“Yehehes! I mean-! Nohoho, I-! Crohohowley plehehease!” Aziraphale never realized how difficult speaking could be when getting tickled. He truly learned something new every day with his dear demon. His mind was mush and all he could think about was how dreadfully ticklish he apparently was.

“Oh poor angel, thought he could get away with teasing a demon,” Crowley teased, poking sporadically across Aziraphale’s tummy and making the angel’s laughter grow. “Naaaah, now that I know your weakness I’m never lettin’ you live it down.”

Crowley crawled on top of Aziraphale, shoving his thumbs into his underarms. “NO! Nohoho Crohohowley! Bad snahahake!” Aziraphale teased even through his laughter, unabashedly having a great time.

“You having fun down there or somethin’?” Crowley chuckled.

“Yehehes!” Aziraphale squeaked, face turning pink from mirth.

Crowley shook his head fondly, not surprised in the slightest. But he could tell Aziraphale would probably appreciate some air soon, whether he actually needed it or not, and eased up. Not before giving his belly once last poke, of course, just to hear him yip.

Aziraphale giggled through his breath, hands resting on Crowley’s thighs. The demon couldn’t help blushing, but didn’t move.

“I never realized it felt like that,” Aziraphale said, a smile etched between his rosy cheeks. “I knew tickling was used as torture way back when, but my goodness.”

“Human vessels are a funny thing,” Crowley said, unsure of where to put his hands now that they weren’t being used as weapons. As if Aziraphale could tell, the angel gently took them in his own, laying their hands down on Crowley’s thighs.

They sat staring into each other's eyes for a while. It was such a comforting silence, one Crowley felt warm in. Why did Aziraphale always have to open his damn mouth-

“You’re quite ticklish on those ribs of yours,” Aziraphale shot a cheeky grin, eyebrows up like he’s being clever. Crowley groaned, looking up to the ceiling.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You never did tell me where you got that shirt from…?” Aziraphale said, slowly loosening his grip on Crowley’s hands before the demon squeezed back-

“I’ll end you.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m serious, angel. Death, discorporation, sooo much paperwork-“

“Was the shirt a former lover’s? Are you embarrassed, Crowley?” Aziraphale teased as he starting fighting Crowley’s grip, their hands now playing for dominance.

Crowley grunted, not shocked that Aziraphale was winning their little fight, “Grk, no! It’s…just…a secRET-!” He was cut off by a squeak as one perfectly manicured hand tore from his grasp and gripped onto his ribs, squeezing and pinching and tickling. Crowley collapsed forward in his squirmy laughter, hand still holding tight to one of Aziraphale’s.

“Oooh a secret, you say? Do tell me more,” Aziraphale finally fought his other hand free, now tickling up and down Crowley’s torso as the demon wiggled and laughed freely on top of him. His head was pressed firmly to Aziraphale’s chest, and my that just wouldn’t do anymore, now would it?

“You keep hiding your smile from me! It’s rather unfair, my face was on full display when you tickled me,” Aziraphale said before pushing Crowley to the other side of the mattress, tickling him the whole way down. He hovered over Crowley with a big grin.

“Ahahangel! This is stupihihid!” Crowley cackled, head turning this way and that like trying to hide his face in the sheets surrounding him.

“Was it stupid when you tickled me?” Aziraphale accused, pinching Crowley’s hips and smiling when he bucked and kicked.

“GAHAHAhaha-!” Crowley guffawed, finding words very hard at the moment. “Nohoho-! Was— fuhuhunny!”

“Oh Lord, now you’re just asking for it,” Aziraphale shot his hands up into Crowley’s armpits. It tickled like hell (Heaven? no, definitely hell) on himself, so maybe it’ll be the same for Crowley.

Crowley. Screamed.

Maybe scream is the wrong word. The sound that left Crowley was like a screech, a hurtle of pure loud noise that fell into cackles, squeals, and Aziraphale’s favorite, the snort. Oh what a sound it was. The angel would never forget it (and unfortunately, neither would the demon).

“Oh wow…” Aziraphale giggled at Crowley’s expense.

“Ahahangel-! I—shihihit-! I’ll tahahalk!” Crowley managed to get the words out through his laughter, a feat he wished he could be proud of. Aziraphale conceded even though he honestly really didn’t want to. Crowley looked so cute when he laughed, it was hard to quit.

Aziraphale drew his hands away, and Crowley took a moment to catch his breath. When the moment faded, he threw a pillow over his face and screamed into it quite dramatically. Aziraphale pulled it off and held it gently in his lap.

“You were telling me about the shirt?” Aziraphale said, scribbling a finger onto Crowley’s clothed tummy. Crowley batted it away with a hiss.

“Do you even actually care about the shirt or did you just want an excuse to torture me?” Crowley tried yanking the pillow back but found it held in an iron grip. He settled for crossing his arms instead.

Aziraphale took his hand. “If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I just thought a game would be fun,” Aziraphale handed him the pillow.

Crowley took it, raising an eyebrow, “So you were bored of the movie?”

Aziraphale winced. “…Meh?”

Crowley’s face pinched in frustration, “But it’s James ffffucking Bond! No one in the history of EVER has been bored by a James Bond movie, angel, you are literally setting records here!”

“I just prefer the softer films! You know, your…Pride And Prejudice types.”

“That’s one of your favorite books, that hardly counts.”

“It’s still a good film!”

“Okay okay, point stands though, that you only did all that to get out of watching my movie. You don’t actually care about the origins of my shirt at all, do you?” Even though his arms were already crossed, he made a little harumph motion with them, hand still holding Aziraphale’s gently. He turned his head away from Aziraphale, feigning anger. Crowley did love a petty argument every now and then.

“Oh come ooooonn,” Aziraphale shook Crowley by the shoulder with his free hand. Crowley said nothing. “Don’t be like this, you know how much I hate the silent treatment.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a pointed look that said ‘duh, why else do you think i’m pulling the silent treatment?’ before turning back around.

Aziraphale sighed playfully, “Whatever am I going to do without you to talk to…” He couldn’t hold back a cheeky grin as he pinched Crowley’s side, the demon flinching but still saying nothing. “Who will I complain to when my favorite books get turned into terrible films?”A few pokes to the belly, and Crowley’s knees shot up. “Who will teach me about the different plant life in London?” Three pinches to the ribs and he heard a stifled giggle as Crowley’s back arched away from his fingers.

Aziraphale let the moment hang in the air. He wanted Crowley to feel anticipation crawling up his spine. Aziraphale saw him squirm slightly into the sheets.

He quickly pinched up and down Crowley’s side, from his hip to his rib, the demon flinching hard with a keening giggle. He rolled over quickly, ticklish laughter spilling from him as he slapped at Aziraphale’s hands, feet digging into the mattress. “Okay okahahay! I gihive, you dihihick!”

Aziraphale pulled away for the final time, meaning it this time (well maybe, who knows with how playful they’ve both felt this evening). He laid on his back next to a sprawled out Crowley, putting his hand in his…friend’s.

They basked in each other’s presence for a little while, rubbing their thumbs over the skin of their hands, playing with each other’s fingers, once Crowley dared to tickle Aziraphale’s palm. But then the credits started to roll on the film and Crowley felt the need to confess.

“It was a convention.”

“Hm?”

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder,“It was a, er…ngk,” he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, letting go of weird insecurities. “…a James Bond convention. They held one in London when those newer films came out. I’m a pretty big fan, you know that, so I popped by, made myself…known.” His confession was awkward but very real, and Aziraphale could tell that even as silly as it was, it did take something for Crowley to admit that. “Got a t-shirt while I was there, thought hell, why not, I’m here, the shirts here, probably made to be. So yeah. My new nightshirt.”

Aziraphale smiled so wholeheartedly at Crowley the demon was half-worried he’d pop something. “That’s so sweet, Crowley. I always knew you loved James Bond, but worthy enough to have the Anthony J. Crowley show up to his convention-?”

“Ohhhh bite me a new one, angel,” Crowley shook their intertwined fingers, getting even comfier against him. Aziraphale did the same, leaning into Crowley and wrapping an arm around his waist.

They didn’t talk about this when they woke from their nap. They didn’t need to. At least, they thought they didn’t need to. Their time has always been limitless. They thought their love always would be too.

. . .

a/n : ok im going to sleep goobyeee

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #good omens tickling #lee!crowley #ler!aziraphale #lee!aziraphale #ler!crowley #switch!aziraphale #switch!crowley #ticklish crowley #ticklish aziraphale

117 notes · View notes

strangesthirdeye · 6 months ago

Text

✨HAPPY 300+ FOLLOWERS TO ME✨

Me: *open my account door hall gently with a sweet smile on my face* ok, kiddos.. I have good news to share.

Doctor: ohh, good news. I love hearing good news. *glances at Donna excitedly*

Donna: you always love everything, Doctor.

Crowley: *sprawling on my massage chair in the corner of the hall* nguhh- damn.. this massage chair is something. *fiddling with the remote control for the massage chair*

Aziraphale; *snatches remote control from Crowley's hand* Crowley! It's not good to play someone's stuff, like that. What if it's broken?

Crowley: *shrugs* just want to increase the speed.

Aziraphale: *sighs before helping Crowley increase the speed on the massage chair* So.. what is the good news you want to share?

Stephen: *crossed his arms against his chest while leaning against the wall* Don't tell me that you have new ideas for other fanfics while you haven't finished the old ones yet.

Wong: Is it the continuation of Snape's fanfics that you promised him a few months ago? because as far as I know you have made two fanfics for him. That's why he seems in a good mood lately.

Severus: I've been in my own mood for a long time... what makes you sense that I've been in a good mood lately?

Wong: *shrugs* maybe because you don't always make a few snarky remarks the moment Dhani enters this noble hall.

Severus: who says if I don't make a few snarky remarks to Dhani I'm in a good mood? Tell me, Mister Wong.

Me: guys, settle down ler.. just chill out.. we don't need history to repeat itself..

Sherlock: With what you say first, old things will be repeated without having to be told because your mouth is the type that likes to talk without thinking about the consequences.

John: *massage his nose* Sherlock.. just.. let Dhani tell what the good news is so that this meeting will not be long.

Me: John's right.. if you don't want this meeting to be long, you need to let me do the talking. While y'all.. Listen to me.

Them: *grumbled before agreeing with what I said*

Me: *nods* good.. now *press the button to open the projector* This is the good news I want to share.

Doctor and Donna: *raise their eyebrows to show they are impressed*

Sherlock: *narrows his eyes*

John: *mouth agape*

Severus: *keeps his stoic face*

Crowley: *opens his black tinted glasses slightly to see clearly*

Aziraphale: *stunned*

Loki: *blew his lips* that's growing fast.

Stephen and Wong: *disbelieving*

Stephen: that's very fast because a few months ago it was only 200.. now it has increased to 300

Me: 322 actually.

Donna: Well, if 22 unfollows you, it will be 300 exactly.

Doctor: no no.. don't do that

Me: woi! don't jinx it!

Aziraphale: but- but you don't post any fanfics these days.. how come it can be so many?

Me: i did posted something a few days ago, okay.. two incorrect memes and Chapter 13 Unspoken Love..

Stephen: of course it's about their fandom *nods his head at Aziraphale and Crowley*

Crowley: Did I sense jealousy, Doctor? *smirks*

Stephen: *glares at Crowley* I don't need those kind of incorrect to make me jealous.. At least I have a full chapter

Crowley: *rolls his eyes, annoyed with Stephen*

Sherlock: plus about the two of them too *gesture towards Doctor and Donna* something about Y/n making dad jokes.

Donna: don't remind me of that please *groans*

Doctor: it's funny.

Donna: for you, yes.. but me? no.

John: Well at least she doesn't make dark jokes right?

Doctor and Donna: ...

John: right?

Me: *write notes* that's a good idea, Johnny boy.. Might make dark jokes for incorrect Sherlock too *grins*

John: for God's sake!

Sherlock: I don't have any comments to make.

Stephen: whatever.. as long as my lists will be full of fanfics only.

Me: who says your lists will be full of fanfics only? Your Unspoken Love series alone has taken time to complete and you want your list to be full of fanfics only? Huh! in a dream.

Stephen: you-

Severus: did i get new fics?

Me: let me check.. *open my notes app* hmm.. Supreme Strange imagine.. Little Star miniseries, Sherlock's.. Ahh not yet

Severus: pardon?

Me: *glance at Severus* not yet lah.. sorry.. but don't worry, Sevvy, I will do it.

Severus: she always says the same thing but won't do it.

Me: oh! don't let me not do it

Loki: Am I getting new fics too?

Me: same goes to you.. i still have a few paragraphs for Too Many Secret part 2 which is not ready yet. It's a long fic. So it will take time to prepare.

Loki: not ready yet? I thought it was ready?! it's been what? a few months!.

Me: oh! you have to remember that I use my phone to write all these fanfics okay! that's why it takes time!

Loki: i sense deception! she has a new laptop which she didn't use for writing instead she uses it to read fanfics!

Me: I'm still not used to writing using a laptop because I'm so used to using the phone to write, you snake!

Loki: This is ridiculous. *cross his arms*

Donna: seriously, what is our purpose for gathering at this meeting? to roast each other? I thought it was to celebrate 300+ followers.

Aziraphale: I must say that, although Dhani is the type who is slow to update or post something but in the end her work will finish in no time.

Severus: she has really bad writer's block.. that's why she's a bit slow to write fanfics.

Me: is that judging or a compliment? because I'm gonna take it as a compliment even though it's a bit harsh.

Severus: none of the above

Me: okay, compliment then.

Doctor: Well, at least she writes, right?

Egon: that's right, but judging by some of the abandoned fanfics in her notes apps says something.

Them: *turned their heads to look at the source of the voice*

Stephen: who are you?

Sherlock: new character crush i suppose.

Doctor: She added character crush again?

Egon: I don't know how I can be here actually. All this started a few months ago where Dhani got bored and decided to watch Ghostbusters. My name is Egon Spengler

Donna and Wong: *look at each other*

John: *raises eyebrows* she sure has a taste for men who are introverted and high functioning and intelligent and cold..

Me: it's not my fault that they are all fine.

Aziraphale: so you're going to start making fanfics for him?

Me: I'm still thinking about that, actually.

Crowley: great! more abandoned fanfics *clapping his hands*

Me: why are you all being so cruel this day? you all should raise my spirit to write so that I will write diligently..

Aziraphale: oh, Dhani.. don't be sad.. Just.. you don't need to rush for time to write.. You have plenty of time to write and do other things.. Just take your time and relax.

Donna: yes, just sit and relax.. having tea and sleep..

Sherlock: gosh that's kinda boring

John: *smack Sherlock on the back of the head* shut up

Egon: I don't mind if I don't have fanfics about me.. I mean.. I'm still new so only 'seniors' have fanfics, right?

Me: oh, don't worry! I will try to do it.

Loki: well let's just don't rush. I mean you have a lot of time to write.. so there's no need to rush.

Donna: yeah, Loki's right.. I mean.. we are just Characters.. so we can only entertain you.. all our dialogue and actions are in your hands.

Stephen: and you kind of use us to motivate you to write or do other things.

Wong: that's right.

Crowley: Ngh- don't stress too much.. Everything will be okay in the blink of an eye.

Me: *tears up* oh guys... thank you!

Them: no problem

Wong: so.. is there anything else you want to talk about?

Me: nahh.. I think this is enough.. you can go.

Stephen: *stands up* right.. if you say that *open portals* in you go, gentleman and lady.

Crowley: *points his index finger at me* remember what I said. *enter portal*

Aziraphale: it was nice to see you all again.. thank goodness we don't have to argue before going home.

Severus: at least we all got what we wanted.

John: yeah.

Aziraphale: i think i should go, see you guys later! *enter the portal and the portal directly vanish*

Sherlock: *nods in farewell before entering the portal*

John: see you guys later *enter portal*

Severus: i must go before all those dunderheads do inappropriate things.. Farewell *enters the portal*

Egon: it was nice to meet you all.. I hope we can get to know each other more.. goodbye *enter portal*

Loki: I think this is the time for me to withdraw.. until next time. *disappears*

Wong: I should go then *enter the portal*

Stephen: *look at me who is watching they all go in front of me* Dhani. ..

Me: hmm?

Stephen: *walks closer to me and stands in front of me* as a first fictional character that you like, I must say that.. you grow up fast.. mentally.. physically you look like a 12 year old girl although your age is more than 18 years old.. so it's a bit different from the others because you can remember all the plots and stories even though they've been left for a long time. Consider you have short term memory but you can still remember all the stories and plots for your stories that you abandoned.. That's why you are always slow to update because you always follow the mood to write.. not because you have no ideas...

Me: so you mean that I'm lazy to write? Even though I have an idea to write.

Stephen: more or less like that..

Me: wha- what the hell! i thought you wanted to give me advice instead you just want to tell me that i'm lazy.. sheshh...

Stephen: it's not my fault.. I'm just telling you in a way that's not straight forward.

Me: wouldn't it be nice if you just told me straight forward.. haiyaa

Stephen: well I don't want you to be offended.

Me: of course I will be offended if you said like that.. but I just accept it because it's true. Heh..

Stephen: *nods and pat my head* good.. well, i shall go back to my realms.

Me: right, bye bye! *closes my account hall door loudly*

56 notes · View notes