#ler john

[numberonelittlechild]

Spooky Cops' tickle torture. (Whiteboard RP)

Dang, my dream was happening today with @jav-animations 💖

I swear to you peeps I really love those cops so much 💜!!!

But hey, there is more coming 💞

[ondestamor]

"— Se algum dia eu escrever algo que me dê orgulho, prometo deixar você ler. — Eu gosto de poesia ruim — falei. — Por favor, não me faça recitar meus poemas bobos. Ler poesia para uma pessoa é como ficar nu na frente dela. — Então, estou basicamente dizendo que quero ver você nu."

- Tartarugas até lá embaixo, John Green

[secret-laughs]

slaps you with lee John and leaves

[myreygn]

tkltober day 11: Squeal

Treasure Planet - ler!Silver, lee!Jim

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♫·¯·♪¸¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

John Silver took great pride in being smooth, an absolutely necessary character trait in his position of Legendary Pirate Who Almost Stole The Greatest Treasure To Ever Exist. He wasnʼt easily flustered, provoked, or thrown off balance (figuratively, in reality his leg was a true nuisance when it came to keeping balance), and he barely ever lost his cool.

Until he let Jim Hawkins into his life, that was. The boy had the very special talent of making even his closest friends very angry and his newest method of nuisance-ing was slightly bothersome at best and downright infuriating at worst.

“Nah.”

Silver whipped around to the boy so fast he almost fell over, his apron majestically waving after him and the sponge in his hand splattering water on the wall. “Whaddaya mean, nah?! These dishes donʼt do themselves!”

“Nah.”

“Donʼt you dare say that word again!”

Jim shrugged, an ever so slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Little rat. “I mean, yeah, me neither though.”

“Jimothy Hawkins, this is my kitchen and I demand you-”

“Nah, itʼs my motherʼs.” Silver felt his eyelid twitch, but he kept his mouth shut - no disrespect to Mrs. Hawkins whatsoever was tolerated in this kitchen, no matter whose kitchen it was. Jim smirked. “If you really think about it, youʼre kinda in my kitchen.”

It definitely wasnʼt Jimʼs though. Silver let out a low growl. “Your last chance, scrub. Start doing the dishes now and I might consider not making a pastry out of you.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, the old pirate trying to look as intimidating as possible and the young engineer weighing the pros and cons of giving in. Then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Nah.”

Having anticipated the answer, Silver lunged forward immediately, but the reflexes of a sprout like Jim even outdid the speed of a skilled fighter, especially those of a skilled fighter whose glory days were long over. Ah yes, youth, the price for experience. Luckily, though the former might give you the momentum every once in a while, the latter always won in the end.

“AH- how did you- ehehey, stahahap!”

“Practice, lad.” Silver grinned and pulled both of Jimʼs wrists up to hold them in place with his robot arm. “I know a half-assed dash to the door when I see one.”

The boy let out a high-pitched string of giggles when a set of fingers wiggled into his ribs. “Ayehehehe! Sihihihilveheheher!”

“Yes, Jimbo?” The old pirate drilled his fingers into his victimʼs side with a smirk, making him shriek. “Care to do the dishes now?”

“Nah- no, nonono, wait, wahahahaiiit!”

“Was that a squeal I heard?”

Jim was too busy thrashing around in his grip and trying to protect his stomach to notice the fond twinkle in Silverʼs eye - and even if he noticed, he probably couldnʼt get a word in about it if he tried, too busy laughing and squealing.

“NAHAHAHAHA!”

“Yehehes,” Silver mocked. “And if you know whatʼs good for you, youʼll stop saying that word. ʼNahʼ, I canʼt even stand the sound of it. That squeal of yours on the other hand…” He chuckled softly when another one of said squeals echoed through the room. “I must say I rather like the sound of that.”

[thebest-medicine]

little cute fjord & molly snippet based on this interview where John Oliver tells Russell Howard he can tickle him for 5 seconds as thanks, and immediately regrets it..

“I… I really appreciate this, Molly.” Fjord smiles at the tiefling sitting across from him on the other bed. “So much in fact, that I - I will allow you one…” He holds up a finger. “Five second long… Tickle.” He moves his arms out to the side, watching Mollymauk and trying to will his nervous energy away.

Molly’s eyes go wide. “Really?” He shifts forward in his seat and smirks.

Fjord wiggles a finger, summoning Molly over. “Come on, before I change my mind.” He fights down the nerves bubbling up in his stomach.

Molly beams. Then, he shifts in his seat again. Leans forward, examines his hand, his nails, like a particularly interesting specimen on a slide. He blows on them as though just finishing a manicure. “You know, I’m a really good tickler.”

“I am already kind of regretting this.” Fjord admits, eyes widening as he watches the purple tiefling buzz with glee. Molly claps his hands together, stands up, and swiftly encroaches on Fjord’s personal space. Fjord’s arms flinch down on instinct when he comes near. He fights against every alarm in his brain and tries to bring them back out to the sides.

Molly puts one leg up on the bed, boxing Fjord in where he sits.

“Oh no- no!” Fjord gasps out with a whine, already smiling despite himself.

“So..” Molly starts talking, low and close, and something deep inside Fjord knows he has just made a terrible mistake. “The thing about your tickle..”

“Just do it already.” Fjord strains.

Mollymauk shushes him. “Oh no, I don’t think so. I’m gonna do this right.” He leans in close and catches Fjord’s eyes, then, with a hint of evil, smirks. “As I was saying, the thing about a good tickle, is you start slow. You build that tickle up. Cause things are about to get giggly.”

Fjord leans back an inch, putting his hands between his face and Molly’s. “Y-You know I thought this would be a nice gesture, but now I feel like this was the wrong way to thank you..”

“Oh, this is the best thanks I’ve ever received. I’m gonna tickle like you ain’t never been tickled.”

Fjord can’t stop himself from shrinking further back on the bed. “M-Molly! Come on.” He makes a desperate whine in his throat.

“You ready?” Molly asks, poising his fingers just beside Fjord’s ribs on either side.

“Yes- just! Do it already!” Fjord braces himself, shutting his eyes to block out some of the teasing.

“Ready?”

“Just go!” Fjord cries, laughter bubbling up within his chest.

“Reaaaaady?” Molly teases, drawn out, and nearly presses his forehead against Fjord’s.

As soon as Fjord opens his mouth to reply, Molly’s fingers catch around Fjord’s ribs, tickling along them as well as the softness just underneath.

Fjord buckles, closing in on himself as much as he can and trying to grab Molly’s hands.

“No- hahahah- AHHAH HAHA I- I can’t!” Fjord cackles.

..

“Hey!” An approaching voice from the hallway gets louder as it goes on. “What are you guys doing that is making so much noise, did Molly tell like the funniest-“ Jester stands in the now open doorway.

Both of them, but Fjord especially, look a bit disheveled on the floor. Molly is hovering so close over him, hands cradling Fjord’s face and giving him an approving tap on the cheek.

“Ooo!” Jester wiggles her eyebrows. “Am I interrupting some - hhuh hhuh hhuh!”

Fjord scrambles, trying to get himself upright. “Jester! No- no! He’s-“

“Just tickling Fjord.” Molly supplies.

“WHAT?!” Jester shouts.

“No- no, no no nononono! Hold on- I said- nO DON’T! Ah- WAHAHAHAIT!”

[bansheeboyy]

If you think about it, in the apocalypse of A Quiet Place, tickle kinks become the new knife play. High risk, but also perhaps a very high sexual and emotional reward. Suddenly you not squealing at that feather between your toes, at the massaging fingers in your stretched armpits, is not a matter of pride but of life and death.

For most that meant shelving any real exploration of their kink for fear of being torn apart by super-hearing aliens. But for some brave souls it meant turning the tension, thrill and taboo of tickling up to 100.

Gone were the days of rattling stocks, clanking chains, squeaking leather chairs. Silk ropes made the least noise, so ticklees were often lashed spread eagle, or else hogtied, feet in the air, waiting for touchdown. Clothing rustled too much so ticklees were always nude, a fact lers took great pleasure in abusing. Feathers often slipped into crevices and creases the sun rarely sees, but such games were risky when striking one previously unknown hyper-ticklish spot meant possible alien destruction.

Gone too were the days of hairbrushes scrubbing on oiled soles, of fingers drilling into sides, except for the most insane. Those methods were too effective at making a lee scream, and no amount of fear can make hairbrushes not tickle like hell. No, tickling post-apocalypse became a game of cat and mouse, teasing touches where the lee least expected it, fluttered fingers and feathers dragged across exposed skin. Ticklish like mad, of course, but a controllable kind of torture, one that you are forced to internalise.

Ticklees pre-apocalypse, privileged as they are, don’t realise how cathartic laughing is. Not laughing allows the tickles to build to torturous heights, the desperation to grow and grow, the ginger struggling to grow ever more frantic and incautious. One peep out of you, lee, and the aliens might hear.

So tickling is different now, sure. But it survived. And if it can survive this, it can survive anything.

[idreamofticklehugs]

When silly Lees make old man jokes about their older Ler friends, the "old man" just comes up with mean challenges that the Lee's boyfriend likes 😂😜😈

John, you big jerk, you basically made it for me! Why should I have to suffer consequences for making a statement you lined up so well!!!

[august-anon]

hawkgirl justice league,,,,,,,,,, wing tickles,,,,,,,,,,

[eunchancorner]

Can you do a little fic with the officers where John is too stubborn to get rest and Jack makes him with his tricks? They're my otp and I sadly don't see much tk content with them :'p

Gettin this out of the way since this is another triple asker and bc I have a soft spot for them

Ler Jack, Lee John

Warning: cussing

Word count: 1440

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

Jack walked into the living room, following the mumbled sounds of his partner mulling over the strange cult that seemed to be so prominent in this town. Looking outside he could see that it was far too late at night for him to be so focused on the case they’d taken up on their own, but John was stubborn. Something Jack loved about him at times, and hated at others.

Right now, he hated it.

“John…” he called softly, catching the attention of the brunette, “It’s late, we need to go to sleep.”

“I don’t have time to sleep, we need to figure out what the hell is going on with this cult,” he grumbled, taking a sip from yet another dirty mug.

“John, come on, if you don’t get enough sleep you won’t be able to think properly, and what will you do then?”

“Speak for yourself, I can go days without sleeping…”

“Can you, or is that just something you tell yourself as an excuse to stay up working? Seriously, it’s time for bed.”

“I’m not going to sleep until I’ve figured out what the hell is going on in this town.”

Jack sighed quietly. He loved John, he really did, but days like this, when he was being more stubborn than Julie to go to sleep, he was always so frustrated with him. Thankfully he was able to figure out ways to make him go to sleep, and tonight seemed like just the night for one of his favorite methods.

“Alright, I didn’t want to have to do this, but you left me no choice,” the ravenette sighed as he walked over to his partner.

“Didn’t want to have to- JACK!!” the brunette yelped as he was suddenly scooped up under the arms and held off the ground against the taller’s chest.

“I’m taking you to bed whether you like it or not!” Jack announced, dragging his brunette co-worker away from the office and towards the shared bedroom.

“What the hell?! Jack, put me down! I NEED TO WORK ON THIS-”

“SHH! Julie’s asleep, what the hell are you thinking?!” Jack hissed at his partner as they passed the sleeping girl’s room.

“Oh, shit, right. But you can’t just make me go to bed! I am a grown man and I can make my own decisions!”

“He says, refusing to sleep…” the ravenette mumbled mockingly, earning a painful elbow in the ribs that almost made him drop the smaller.

Finally they reached the bedroom (with a lot of resistance from the older) and Jack dragged John onto the bed, holding him in his arms. The brunette grumbled and squirmed and pushed at Jack’s hands, trying to get away and go back to work, but at the same time, the warmth of him was just so… nice. So comforting and inviting. As much as he wanted to work, the thought of cuddles seemed to weaken his actions. Usually he’d be able to pull Jack off no problem but he found himself struggling to budge the taller’s hands.

“Wow, you’re still gonna try to be stubborn. C’mon, John, you really need to sleep. After all, you can’t think properly without a good night’s rest. And if that happens, you could make a mistake. It could set you pretty far back, you might even get stuck on square one again…”

That made John stop, even if only to think for a moment. He wanted to work on this case, he really did, but at the same time, he wanted to do so while he was at 100%, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything or get something wrong. And he knew Jack was right. He could end up messing up this case, or possibly something else, if he was too tired. But at the same time, he felt that sense of urgency trying to drag him back to the office.

“You already know that I can’t just leave this for tomorrow when I know I could do it today,” he finally argued. “Even if it takes me all night, I have to get this done.”

“I was afraid you’d say that… Please, John? I’m starting to worry about you. Is there another reason you’re not sleeping or something…?”

“No, I’m just working, I promise. You know I’d tell you if it was something else, don’t worry.”

“Good, good… but then, in that case, you really need to sleep. You know that…”

“And you know I won’t sleep until I’m done.”

“I thought you’d say that… but, thankfully, I know how to get you to sleep. The same way I get Julie to sleep!”

That confused John for a second, his mind flicking to how he gets her to sleep, with a story, a hug, and a nice warm drink. Until the brunette realized that Jack had a bit of a different method of getting her to sleep. One that was far more playful and better for tiring out the hyper child. And one that was far more embarrassing for the shorter.

“W-wait… you’re not thinking…?”

“Maybe I am thinking~”

“I-I- that’s childish, Jack!”

“Oh yeah? What happened to ‘childish’ when you tickled me in front of Patty?”

“That was different! You deserved it for scaring me like that!”

“Oh, I deserved it? Well, then maybe you deserve this for being a little brat and not going to bed!” He punctuated the last few words with pokes to John’s side, making the smaller flinch and curl up, covering the wobbly smile on his face.

“Y-you better quit that!”

“Quit what? This?~” the ravenette asked innocently as he continued to poke up and down his partner’s side, forcing the brunette to choke down embarrassing giggles.

“H-Hehey! Yes, thahat!”

“Why? After all, I’m barely doing anything to you, do why is it affecting you that much?~”

“Jahack!”

“It is because it leads to this?~” he squeezed at the older sides, earning a quiet snort before he heard some small, muffled giggles trying to break out.

“Or, is it because this leads to this?~” he clawed at John’s belly, making him let out a stifled squeak.

“PFF- mmmhmhmhm! Noho!”

“No? Then maybe it’s because this leads to thisss?~” his hands started climbing towards John’s ribs.

“Jahack I swehehear!” the small sheriff warned, grabbing at his deputy’s hands, only succeeding in uncovering his wobbly, blushy smile.

“What do you swear, John? Huh? What are you gonna do, with your handsome little smile?~” he cooed, admiring his partner’s growing blush, even if he proceeded to cover it up once more.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought~”

A squeal pierced the air as Jack finally pinched at his partner’s ribs, moving slowly from one to the other, up two and down one, occasionally darting to a random rib, all keeping John, who was finally letting himself laugh (not that he had much of a choice), guessing on where he might go next.

“Jahahack! Ahaha hey nohoho!” the brunette squawked out, attempting to curl in on himself and hide from the tickles.

“No what, John? No what?” the ravenette cooed.

“Tihihihickles!”

“Aww, ok, if you say so!”

“Wahait, that’s not what I- AAHAHAHA!!” the smaller broke off with a squeal as Jack finally reached his uppermost ribs, occasionally poking at his underarms, bringing his laugh to a near cackle. A squeak managed to escape him when Jack found a particularly sensitive spot on his upper ribs.

“Aww, was that a squeak? That’s adorable! Who knew a grumpy little fluff ball like you could squeak?”

“SHUHUT! IHIT WAHAS NAHAHAT!”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed! Is the big man embarrassed because he’s a little ticklish?~” Jack cooed at his partner, who attempted to cover his face before yet another poke in his underarms forced his arms back down.

“JAHACK PLEHEHEHEASE!”

“Oh, begging? You must be getting tired now. But I still haven’t heard a single stop!~”

“JUHUST TOHOHONE IHIT DOHOHOWN!”

“No problem..” As per his request, Jack’s hands lowered down to the fluff ball’s belly, gently scratching at the soft skin as John’s laugh calmed down into soft giggles. When a yawn managed to break through, the ravenette changed it to soft traces that had the brunette just barely giggling and utterly melting in his arms.

“Getting tired yet?” he asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer. Slowly his traces came to a stop, and just as they did, he heard John’s breathing even out as the brunette fell asleep.

He chuckled quietly and gently laid down, pulling a blanket over them both and letting himself drift off as well.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought…”

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

I turned it really soft at the end lol. Smokydonuts ftw

[giggly-squiggily]

Great In Theory, Bad In Execution (Moriarty The Patriot)

Two fics in one weekend- whoop whoop! So Moriarty the Patriot. A gem of an anime filled with equally shiny characters! I love Sherlock so much, so naturally I have to write him! I hope you like it! :D

Summary: After one too many incidents of his ticklishness being discovered, Sherlock decides to create a "remedy" to make himself immune. Of course- how will he test it? Watson finds himself dragged in to help.

“Dreadful, shameful, an embarrassment to my reputation, how’d I let myself slip so easily-” Sherlock was pacing about his room, one hand shoved into his pocket while the other pushed his hair out of his face. All these hours later and his cheeks were still tinted a stubborn pink, deeping whenever the memory of that night replayed in his mind. “I should have never- I could have- UGH!”

“Sherlock?” A pajama clad Watson peeked in, cringing some at the glare his flatmate shot him. “Are you well? You're making quite a bit of noise. Miss Hudson-”

“Sherlock Holmes! If you don’t stop that insistent pacing I’m putting you on the street!” Said woman stormed in, tugging her robe tightly over her. Much like Watson, she was dressed in her nightwear, her sleep mask crooked against her forehead. “What in god’s name has you so excited?”

“Oh come now, you two! It’s only…” Sherlock looked at the nearby clock, blanching at the hour. “Eh…eheh. I hadn’t realized how late it was.” He cleared his throat, grinning sheepishly at his companions. “Well, I should be off to bed now. Goodnight you two-”

“Oh no you don’t!” Watson blocked his path. “You woke us both up with all your noise! Knowing you- if I leave you be, you’ll just go right back to pacing!” The doctor took him in then, brows furrowing at Sherlock’s outwear. “Did you just get back from somewhere?”

“Yes- the local pub. I had some business there when I ran into Moriarty.” Sherlock waved the details off, a gesture that would have seemed nonchalant if it weren't for the pink still staining his face. Watson and Miss Hudson shared a look.

“Well, I’m off to bed.” Their landlady announced, figuring what was about to be spoken should stay private. “Keep the noise down, will you Sherlock?” She smiled kindly at Watson before disappearing down the hall. Upon her exit, the detective seemed to relax some.

“It’s just the two of us now, Holmes.” Watson prompted. “Wanna talk about it?”

Sherlock groaned, walking towards the nearest couch and flopping down. “No. But…”

~~Earlier that evening~~

“Aha! Professor- what a pleasant surprise!” Sherlock grinned when his eyes landed on the familiar blonde man sitting by. “I take it you’ve finished your evening classes at the local university?”

“Hm? Oh, Mr. Holmes. A pleasure to see you too, yes.” Said man smiled, the expression a bit tired. “I’ve been stuck at the office for quite some time today-  I’d much prefer teaching my students over grading their work.” Turning to the bartender, he ordered a round of drinks for them as the detective sat down. “How are things with your profession?”

“Boooring. If I get one more missing cat case, my head’s gonna explode.” Sherlock groaned, leaning into a hand as he vented about his most recent cases. If Watson were here, he’d probably scold him for speaking so crudely about his work. At least with William he could be frank. The Professor never seemed to be phased by Sherlock’s lack of filter.

“I suppose that’s the cost of popularity. You gain more work, but it lacks the intrigue you’re searching for.” William smiled behind his whisky as he watched Sherlock shoot his back, slapping his cup down with a satisfying nod. “Surely it’s not all boring?”

“Eh, I suppose. We did uncover quite the cheater! This lord- heh, he really thought he was slick.” Sherlock turned, something sinister in his tipsy grin. “He was sneaking women into his bedchambers almost every night! You know how he got caught? We found him in the bu-”

In Sherlock’s excitement, his hand accidentally knocked his empty glass towards the ground. Both men reached for it at the same time, William’s reflexes faster due to sobriety. Sherlock missed altogether.

What didn’t miss was William’s hand accidentally brushing the detective’s side.

“Gah!”

“Oh? Apologies, Mr. Holmes. Did I hurt you?” William looked up at the other, eyes curious at how red the other looked then. “Mr. Holmes?”

“I-It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sherlock turned back to the bar, arms crossed around his middle in a failed attempt to look casual. That certainly sobered him up. William tilted his head curiously before his easy smile returned.

“Very well- I shall take my leave. My brothers; they tend to grow worried for me if I’m out later.” He gathered his bag and hat, leaving a coin for the bartender with a nod. “We’ll have to pick up where we left off next time, Mr. Holmes. I’m intrigued to hear how your riveting story ended.”

“Oh? Yeah, sure, definitely.” Sherlock nodded, unable to look anywhere but that blasted whisky glass. William passed by from behind. As he did, Sherlock felt something like a prod to the ribs, making him shoot up with a yelp.

“Apologies.” William smiled, eyes dancing with devilish delight. “I tripped.”

Sherlock was left sitting there at the bar for quite a long time.

~~Current Time~~

“That’s all?” Watson asked, blinking at his friend. “Sherlock, with all due respect, don’t you think you’re overreacting to such a small gesture?”

“Overreacting?” Sherlock sat up, his glare hot. “That was no small gesture, Watson! Moriarty, I could see it in his eyes! He knew what he had discovered!” Sherlock started to stand, pausing as if remembering Miss Hudson’s warning before easing back in his seat. “I felt like a fool- for something so, so childish!”

“Sherlock, many people are ticklish.” Watson reassured him, wincing some when Sherlock cut him another look. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, and besides- the likelihood of Moriarty using it against you is slim.”

“That’s not the problem, John! It’s not that he knows I’m…” Sherlock stumbled, squirming in his seat. “Sensitive- It’s how annoying it is in my everyday life! I can’t even get fitted for a suit or checked at the department without being reminded of it!” The detective huffed, crossing his arms. “I was cursed with this dreadful ailment- a trade perhaps for my intellect. Given the ability to solve cases but now I must live with too sensitive skin!”

“Yes. Unfortunately there isn’t anything that can be done for that.” Watson mused. “No potions or medicines exist to remove ticklishness from the body.”

Sherlock nodded glumly, and then stopped. Eyes widening, his brain went into overdrive. “John, you ol’ chap, you’re a genius!” Sherlock grinned, making the doctor look up with a blink. “A medicine to stop being so sensitive! It’s perfect!”

“Sherlock I wasn’t being serious-” Watson began, finding himself being pushed out the room gently by the detective. “Sherlock?”

“No time! I must get to work, Watson! Time is of the essence!” Sherlock smiled before shutting the door in Watson’s face, leaving the other staring at old mahogany.

“Oh dear…” The doctor yawned, suddenly too tired to deal with this. “This will only end in disaster, won’t it?”

~~~

“John! John! Come quickly!” Sherlock’s cries shocked Watson out of his morning routine. The doctor raced towards the bedroom, panic setting in. Has Sherlock hurt himself? Did an experiment go wrong?

“Sherlock, what is it?” Watson sprinted into the room, finding Sherlock in mint condition before him. In his hand he held a beaker containing a ruby red liquid. “Erm..you have a drink?”

“What? No, this is no ordinary drink, John!” Sherlock shook his head, presenting the glass to the other. “This is my creation! A cure for the dreaded sensitivity afflicting my body!”

“What…oh. Your remedy for being ticklish.” Watson felt his body relax, glad to know no real danger was before him. “I’m glad you’re- What are you doing?”

Sherlock, after presenting the cup, chugged the entirety of its contents in one go. Wiping the drips of red from his lips, he nodded. “Oh yes…I feel it, John. My genius is working!”

“You’re mad!” Watson cried, running over and grabbing Sherlock’s collar. His skin looked fine, no sudden changes in color or texture. “Why would you drink that? Oh no- where’s the charcoal? Tell me you have charcoal!” John yanked open the nearest drawer, searching for the tablets. “We need to get you to the hospital before you-”

“John, John, easy!” Sherlock took his arm, pulling him away from the drawers. “I’m fine! If the solution was dangerous, clearly I’d be dead now, wouldn’t I?”

“Poisons work differently, Sherlock!” John grabbed the beaker, bringing it to his nose. “If we can identify the chemicals-”

“John.” Sherlock cut him off, finally silencing the other. “I assure you I’m fine. I know my way around a lab, thank you.”

The doctor was quiet, still staring at the beaker in hand. Finally, he sighed, putting it down on the table and turning to his flatmate. “Alright. I trust you. So, this magical medicine you made?” John gestured to Sherlock’s body. “Does it work?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing about humans, we can’t exactly test ourselves regarding our sensitivity.” Sherlock looked thoughtful before making his way over to the couch, shrugging off his jacket and shoes. Once comfortable, he sprawled out along the cushions, tucking his arms behind his head. “Come on now.”

“Erm…what?” Watson asked.

“Do it.” Sherlock told him. Watson stared some more. “Come on now- we don’t know how long this remedy will last.”

“You want me to…tickle you?” Watson asked. Sherlock flushed at the question, but nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Yes yes! Now hurry! Before the solution wears off!” Sherlock fussed impatiently. Watson sighed before walking over, stretching out his hands.

“Very well. Just remember, you asked me to do this.”

“Hah, no worries! If this worked, I’ll be imu-uuhhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuuhuhne!” Sherlock spasmed when Watson’s fingers touched his body, clawing at his stomach and sides. “Aheahhahahahhahaha! Whahahahhahaht the hehhehehehhheehhell?”

“Did it not work?” Watson asked, brows furrowing as he continued dragging his fingers along Sherlock’s torso. “You sounded so sure. Should I stop?”

“Nohohoohoohhohoho! Keehehehheheep gohoohohoohing! Mahahhahaybe it neehehehheds tihihiihime to kihihihihck ihiihih-IIHIHIN!” The detective all but squeaked when Watson pinched his lower ribs, his hands shooting down from behind his head to guard his torso. “Johohohohohoohn, dohoohoohohon’t!”

“Don’t what? If I recall, you weren’t even that ticklish here.” Watson mused, starting to smile. He let his other hand creep up Sherlock’s open side, walking up his ribs one bone at a time towards his armpit. “Or ticklish here? Maybe your medicine made it worse?”

“Perehehahhahhahahahps? Ihiihihihihihi nehehehehhehed to dohoohohoho mohohohore reeheehehshehehehharch! Aheahhahahhaahaha!” Sherlock squirmed to and from on the couch, batting at the hands. His cheeks were bright red now, his hair growing messier by the minute. “Geahhahahaha, ohoohoohkay! Ohoohohohkay, Wahahahhahatson, stahahhahap ihihiiihhit!”

“Already? But shouldn’t we check all the usual spots first? You never know- the medicine might have numbed a few.” It was absolute bull, what Watson was saying. Really, he was just starting to have fun. Sherlock could be quite the disaster when he wanted to be, driving him and poor Miss Hudson into his antics. It was nice to finally get some much needed revenge.

“Gohoohohohohohd pohohohoohint! Prohohohohoohcehehehheheed!” Sherlock nodded, arching with a cackle when Watson’s hands dug into his armpits. “AHEHAHHA I TAHHHKE IT BAHAHAHCK! I TAHHAHHAKE IT BACK GEHEHHET OHOHOHOOOHOHUT!”

“Hmm…nope, that’s still the same.” Watson dropped his hands down, grabbing Sherlock’s waist. The brunette all but shrieked, nearly jumping off the couch in his hysteria. “That’s the same too. Actually, I think your waist got worse, Sherlock!”

“WHHAHAHHAHAHTSON PELAHHAHHHAHAHSE!” The detective squealed, practically hugging himself to protect his tickle spots. No matter how tightly he pressed his arms in, Watson found a way past his defenses. “MOHOOHOHOVE SOHOOHOHMEWHERE EHEHHHEHLSE!”

“Okay okay…how about here?” Watson grabbed his hip, nearly getting a fist to the eye from Sherlock’s wild squirms. “Okay, definitely still ticklish. Here?” He squeezed his thigh, giggling some at the snorts he earned. “Yep, that’s still normal.” He even dared to tickle his feet, running a single finger down Sherlock’s sole.

“JOHOHOHOOAHAHHHHAAHAN!” Sherlock’s voice cracked from how bad it tickled, eyes wet with mirthful tears and voice fading in and out.

“Yep, you’re still ticklish everywhere.” Watson laughed, finally pulling his hands back. “Looks like your new medicine was a bit of a bust, ol’ chap.”

“Eheh…eheheh…heheh….” Sherlock groaned weakly, body limp with exhaustion against the couch. His hair fell in his face, matted with sweat and blocked his vision. Watson reached out to move it away when Sherlock proved too tired to do so. “Shahame…and heheere I thoohhought I did sohohomething…”

“Perhaps you should count yourself lucky you didn’t die from it?” Watson offered, earning a light pinch to the arm. “If anything, I think it made you even more ticklish than before.” “Drahahats…that’s ihihit. I’m leahhahving medicine to ohohohothers.” Sherlock groaned, closing his eyes. “I…I need a moment. Mahahaybe several.” He was out moments later, soft snores puffing out his lips. Watson smiled before standing.

“Here I was thinking you were killing him.” Miss Hudson’s voice made him jump. Watson turned to find her leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Sherlock sleep. “Can’t blame you if you were. I’d want to kill him too.”

“Did we disturb you? I apologize.” Watson began, stopping when she waved him off.

“It’s fine, truly.” She walked over to the desk, picking up the beaker. “He drank it too. Such an idiot.”

“Yes. Though I have a feeling you knew he would.” Watson walked over, a secret smile touching his lips when their eyes met. “Wine, Miss Hudson?”

“It looked similar enough.” She winked, tucking the glass in her skirts. “You really think I’d let him drink whatever that concoction was? He’s bad enough alive. Imagine what he’d be like dead?” She shuddered. “He’d haunt us for all eternity.”

“He certainly would.” Watson agreed, laughing. “Would you like to have some tea with me, Miss Hudson? I’m curious to know what other interference you’ve done for the sake of Sherlock.”

“But of course, John.” She nodded, turning to the door. “That would be lovely.”

Thanks for reading!

[numberonelittlechild]

Laughust 2024 Day 13 // Comfort Character

Dang, I've been so long after school because of busy stuff I did for me today... but hey, It turned out good! (*W*)

Plus, I was thinking If I could make this dialog was inspired by other users in DeviantArt, like in other inspirations and other expressions... (^_^)

I hope you like it!! ^^

@jav-animations

[un-inspired-writing]

John Price had been on a mission for what felt like an eternity. Even though it had only been a few weeks, it felt like months to Y/N. She tried to keep busy while he was gone, but found herself constantly checking her phone for updates or any sign of him.

Finally, the day arrived when John was supposed to return home. Y/N woke up early and went through her usual routine, but felt like she was moving in slow motion. She was so anxious to see him again, to be held in his arms and feel the warmth of his embrace.

As the hours ticked by, Y/N busied herself with cleaning and cooking, anything to keep busy until John arrived. Soon enough, she heard the sound of his car pulling into the driveway, and she rushed to the door to greet him.

John looked exhausted, but he still managed to crack a small smile when he saw Y/N waiting for him. They hugged each other tightly, and Y/N felt like she could finally breathe again now that he was home.

They spent the next few hours catching up and talking about the mission. Y/N listened intently as John recounted the details, but all she really wanted to do was snuggle up with him and forget about the outside world.

Eventually, John could see the exhaustion on Y/N's face. She had barely slept the night before, too excited to know that he was coming home soon. John knew that what they both needed was some quiet time together, so he suggested they go to bed early.

They changed into their pajamas and crawled into bed, Y/N's head resting on John's chest. The silence was comfortable, but Y/N couldn't help but feel the tears start to well up in her eyes.

"I missed you so much," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

John hugged her tightly, rubbing her back gently as she cried. He knew how hard it was for her while he was gone, but he still couldn't help but feel guilty he had to put her through it.

"I'm here now," he said, his voice low and calming. "I'm not going anywhere."

Y/N sniffled and hugged him tighter. "I know, I just...I can't help but worry about you when you're gone. It's like a piece of me is missing."

John rubbed her back soothingly, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. As he reached her shoulders, Y/N let out a small giggle.

"What's so funny?" John asked with a small smile.

"My back is ticklish," Y/N admitted, blushing slightly.

John chuckled and continued rubbing her back, this time with a more playful touch. He found that he enjoyed watching Y/N squirm and giggle every time his fingers made contact with her skin.

"Hey!" Y/N laughed, wiggling away from him. "Stop it!"

John only tickled her more, enjoying the sound of her laughter filling the room. He continued until Y/N was gasping for air, too weak to fight him off anymore. Finally, he relented, resting his hand on her back and rubbing it softly.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice low and tender.

Y/N nodded, still trying to catch her breath. "Yeah, thank you. That was...kind of fun, actually."

John grinned, feeling a sense of relief and joy wash over him. It was good to see Y/N happy and playful again, even if it meant tickling her to get there.

For the rest of the night, they cuddled and talked, their conversation laced with laughter and affection. John felt like he was home at last, and that as long as Y/N was by his side, he could face any mission that came his way.

[ondestamor]

"Eu: [...] a verdade é que não posso ficar com você. Nem com ninguém. Desculpa. Gosto de você, mas não tem como. Ele: Nisso a gente concorda. Dá muito trabalho. Todo mundo que namora só sabe falar disso. É uma roda-gigante. Eu: Como assim? Ele: Quando as pessoas sobem na roda gigante, só conseguem falar sobre a sensação de estar na roda-gigante e sobre a vista do alto da roda-gigante e se a roda gigante dá medo e quantas voltas será que vai dar etc. Namorar é a mesma coisa. Os casais nunca têm outro assunto. Eu não quero namorar. Eu: E o que você quer? Ele: Você."

- Tartarugas até lá embaixo, John Green

[secret-laughs]

I make j/hn suffer in every scenario. no matter how silly. he suffers (he enjoys it)

[mundodamente]

[berrymilkwithsugar]

Strengthening bonds. (Homestuck)

A/N: I haven’t written a fic like this in a long time, my bad if I’m a bit rusty. This is also purely indulgent so sorry if it’s a bit ooc. Otherwise enjoy. Tw for swearing.

The scent of vanilla filled the air, music was playing softly in the kitchen as Mr. Egbert was preparing another cake. It was his son’s birthday after all, so he felt like this is the perfect time to bust out the Betty Crocker cake mix and slave over a hot oven. Time consuming yes, but he didn’t see anything wrong with spoiling John with cakes.

Despite it being abundantly clear that over the past few months John and him have started to grow distant from one another, maybe he was overdoing the fatherly doting, or maybe he wasn’t spending as much time with him anymore. The oven’s timer begin to beep snapping Mr. Egbert out of thought, he quickly put on some oven mittens and removed the fluffy cake. He placed it on the rack for it to cool down. Glancing over at the photo of him and a six year old john on the wall, he sighed.

Oh what he’d give for them to rekindle their father son relationship.

Maybe they could go to the Dadly depot, no John would get bored rather quickly. Make a cake together? As much as he would love for him and John to do that, John might not be as enthusiastic. God what can they do. He grabbed the now cooled down cake and removed it from the tin, he then begin to apply the fluffy vanilla icing. While this was nice, he still couldn’t rattle an idea in his brain on how to bond with his son.

Once the cake was finished he decided to walk to the living and look through the photo album for as a guide, flipping page after page, he felt like he was hitting a dead end until he saw one photo where it showed him tickling a little John on his tummy. Mr. Egbert smiled at that memory, John was around four year’s old and refused to go to bed, so he had to pull out the “tickle monster” to tucker the little tike out. It had become a bedtime ritual for the Egbert’s whenever John wasn’t keen on clocking in for the night. Not that Mr. Egbert was complaining, his son’s bubbly laughter always left him with a smile on his face.

Wait.. that’s it.

The sound of rapid typing can be heard from outside John’s bedroom door. Presumably chatting with one of his friends. Slowly Mr. Egbert opened the door quietly, glancing over seeing fake arms in his son’s cake. “Well, that’s one way to decorate a cake.” He mumbled under his breath. He cleared his throat, startling John a bit. “Dad what the fu— I mean what the frick?!” He said as he quickly exited out of pesterchum. “Sorry, I’ve just wanted to see how you were doing.” His father’s voice was calm and soft, causing John to ease up a bit and sigh “I’m fine, just chatting with friends… stuck fake arms into a-“ “The cake.” John’s father cut him off. John tilted his head to side before glancing over to the cake. “Oh, well. I was getting sick of cake.” He admitted, a frown donned Mr. Egbert’s face as he sighed and shook his head. “You could of just asked me to store it in the fridge for later.” He mumbled, “But never mind that now.” He waved his hand “I wanted to ask you something.” His expression turned stoic.

“Do you hate me?” Mr. Egbert pondered, John was taken aback by the question “Wha-What? No!! Why would I?” How could his dad come to such a question. “Well, it’s just that we’ve.. seem to grow rather distant over the past few months. I understand it’s normal for there to be teen angst but I didn’t think it would effect our father-son bond this much.” Oh that’s how.

John was astonished, was he actually acting that bad? Sure his dad can be a pain in the neck from time to time but he didn’t think he would chalk it up to John hating him. “Dad..” he reached his hand towards his dad before pulling back and looking down. Shit is it really this difficult for him to find the words to help comfort his father. Just as he was about to speak, his dad began to speak. “So I decided that it was long overdue to reintroduce you to an old friend.”

John gave a quizzical look as he got up from his seat. “You have a guest over?” He asked, Mr. Egbert took a step forward prompting John to step back. “Yes, and and I think you know him quite well.” John tried to rack his brain to see if there was anyone his dad could be referring to. “He used to visit you when you little, when you had those nights where you refused to go to bed.” Once that sentence slipped from his father’s mouth, John’s eyes grew wide in remembrance. No.. there’s not way he’s actually-

“Dad.” John took a few steps back, raising his hands in defense “D-Don’t even think about it.” A wobbly smile formed on John’s lips, “I-I’m beheheing serious.” He said through nervous giggles. Mr. Egbert cocked a brow. “Dad? Who’s this Dad you speak of? I’m the tickle monster!” Mr. Egbert then shot his hands out only for John to dodge them, he tried to run past his dad only to pulled in a hug from behind.

“D-Dad wait-“ But it was too late, his father’s fingers were dancing around his rib cage, causing John to bite his lower lip to stifle giggles. “D-Dahad c-come ohohon I’m nahat a little kihid anymore.” Mr. Egbert smiled at his son’s fruitless attempts to muffle his laughter. “Oh? You’re not? Hmm, well I guess you wouldn’t react if I did this.” He switched over to John’s sides, breaking the dam as sweet laughter filled the room. “Ohohoh gahahahad!” John tried to pry his father’s hands away from his sides, but the man was too strong. Mr. Egbert smiled at his son’s melodious laughter, sounding so carefree and lively, and his reactions to different spots was the cherry on top.

John’s laughter reached an octave as his dad went for his tummy, “WAHAHAHAHAIT NAHAHAHAT TH-THEHEHEHERE!” He squealed, instinctively backing away from the tickles only to further pin himself to his father’s chest. “Aw what’s wrong, is your wittle tummy to sensitive.” He teased, John’s face burned a bit brighter. “IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’M NAHAHAHAHAHAT A BAHAHAHAHABY!!” John protested against the teasing. God why did those work on him. “Oh does the wittle baby hate the teasing, does it make the tickles worse?”

Okay now John was convinced his face is on fire. Or at least it had a color to rival the Betty Crocker spoon. “YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES- HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOLY FUHUHUHUHUHUHUKING SHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT!!!” John cackled as Mr. Egbert let out a gasped at his son’s profanity. “My my, such a filthy little mouth, I think this calls for a punishment don’t you think?” John felt himself being picked up bridal style before his father sat down, placing him on his lap. John took this moment to catch his breath before he felt a hand picking up the hem of his shirt. He froze and panicked “Dad! Wait please, I’m sorry just don’t do that!” He begged.

Me. Egbert pretended to be deep in thought before he took a deep breath and place his face over his son tummy, causing John to squeal. “W-WAIT WAHAHAHAIT!!” Mr. Egbert grinned at this “I didn’t even do anything yet and you’re already laughing up a storm.” John opened one of his eyes to look at this father, huh guess he wasn’t-

Right when his guard was down, Mr. Egbert bent back down a blew a large raspberry on John’s belly, causing the thirteen year old to shrieked. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAT EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE NAHAHAHAHAHAT FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR!!!” Tears of mirth began to roll down the bespectacled boy’s cheeks. “All fair in love and tickles.” Mr. Egbert quipped before blowing another raspberry only this time it was directly on John’s belly button. “*Snort* NYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD *Snort* PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE *Snort* AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” There it was, that snorty laughter Mr. Egbert knew and loved.

He decided to let up on the boy, using his thumb to wipe away the tears from his’s son’s cheeks. John giggled as the ghost tickles were still in effect. John took off his glasses and wiped his eyes before looking at his dad, who had a smirk on his face. “What?” John tilted his head in confusion.

“Oh nothing, just during all of that, you never once told me to stop tickling you.��� John froze, Christ he was right. “W-Well.. um..” John stammered a bit. “You must have really liked it.” Mr. Egbert ruffled his hair, John pouted and crossed his arms. “Okay NOW I hate you.”

“Watch it.” Mr. Egbert gave a warning pinch on John’s side. “I’m keen on having round two if that’s how you’re gonna act.” John stuck his tongue out. “Only if you catch me old man.” With that John quickly got up and sprinted out of the room, giggling as he did so. Mr. Egbert smiled as he shook his head. “You may not hate me, but you’re still gonna get it.”

Soon with Egbert household was filled with laughter once again.