#squealing santa 2k22

[flames-tstuff]

Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas, @ticklethepup ! It is I, your Secret Santa!

Prompt: Cheer-up tickles w/ Will x Nico!

I'm sooooo happy with how this turned out, and I adored getting the chance to draw some more Riordanverse characters ❤️

Hope you have a great holiday season!

[supermarvel-fics]

You Say Embarrassing, I Say Cute

merry (early) christmas @galacticlee3 !! I was your squealing santa this year <3 i was so happy to be writing this for you since I love writing ler!spencer and I know you enjoy my work. hope you enjoy!!! special thanks to @squealing-santa for putting this together ❤️

word count: 1,400

pairing: spencer reid x reader (romantic)

summary: reader needs a massage and Spencer tries helping

“God, my neck is killing me,” You sighed, rubbing it gently as you rolled your head from side to side. “Next time, remind me to stretch before taking down a 250-pound killer.”

Spencer laughed quietly, his head down as he read the files, but his eyes flitted up to you. He watched as you attempted to massage your own neck, noticing how it was alleviating your pain. “I don’t think stretching would help. He slammed you against a wall. What you’re experiencing is mild whiplash.”

“Well, it hurts,” You groaned, leaning forward in your seat to rest your elbows on your knees, hands cradling your heavy head. Spencer shut the file, his attention now fully onto you. He had been watching you a lot recently. You caught his attention early on; a giggle Spencer had never heard before had him asking JJ who you were. She explained that you were an internal transfer to the BAU. You’d been working in domestic terrorism before.

He was smitten with you since then, but wouldn’t dare say that out loud. Though, he had an inkling that Penelope already knew. She was good at reading people romantically.

He longed to be the one to care for you; holding your hand when things got scary, hugging you when you were down, making you hot tea when you were sick. He battled with his own thoughts as he observed you sighing in defeat.

His hands were nimble and mildly cold, but maybe he could help.

“I—” Spencer started, cutting himself off before he could finish. His stomach churned with a nervousness he’d never experienced before. Your head slowly lifted to catch Spencer swiveling his chair back to face his desk.

“What, Spence?”

Spence. He loved it when you called him that. Before you joined the team, JJ and Emily had been the only 2 to ever coin that nickname and while he never minded it, he wouldn’t say he loved the way it made him feel when it spilled from their lips. With you, it made a fire ignite in his chest.

Spencer cleared his throat and anxiously fiddled with his fingers. “I was just—um, well… I could try and h-help if you want. With your neck, you know…”

You smiled, more at Spencer’s stuttering than at the offering he gave you. He was normally timid in social conversations—a sharp turn from when he’s authoritative on a case—but it was endearing. You knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Spencer had taking a liking to you. Flattered wasn’t the right word to describe how you felt about it. Possibly enchanted or ‘mutual’.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” You asked him, already knowing his answer. Spencer perked up and gave you a tight-lipped smile, shaking his head. “Because that would be very helpful.”

“I’m not saying I’d be particularly good at it, but I can try,” He replied, voice shaking slightly. He was nervous, but looked terrified. You giggled and shrugged the best you could without putting yourself in discomfort.

“It’ll be fine, Spence. Anything at all would probably help,” You said, turning your desk chair around so that your back was now facing him. You heard the squeak of his as he made to stand up, then the pitter of his feet as he sauntered to stand directly behind you. He let out a breath and you shivered slightly as the cold air of it just barely grazed your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Where is the center of your pain?” He asked you. Lifting your right hand, you pointed to the base of your neck.

“Here, mostly. And a little near my shoulder blades,” You answered, suddenly shy about the situation. It’s just Spencer—no reason to be nervous. Holding your breath, you awaited Spencer’s touch and once he finally made contact, you flinched.

“Sorry!” He said, immediately retracting his hand.

“No, no, Spence, it’s fine! I just can’t see, so I didn’t know when you were about to touch me,” You assured him, chuckling under your breath. “I’m ready now.”

“You’re sure?”

You smiled, even though he couldn’t see. “I’m sure.”

Still, you held your breath and tensed out of instinct as you felt Spencer’s hand rest on the back of your neck. He gently pressed into the place where your neck and back met with his thumb, easily becoming more confident as he felt you relax under his fingertips.

“Right here?” Spencer questioned you. You hummed a short and quiet response and he grinned wider at you. “Just tell me if anything hurts.”

Spencer worked his fingers in that spot until your skin began turning red from the continuous rubbing, then slid his hand over to the crook of your neck on the right side. You squealed and shrugged your shoulder up, trapping his hand.

Realizing what you’d done, you released him, swiveling around in panic. “Oh, God! I’m sorry! I just… well, I’m a little…”

“Ticklish,” Spencer smiled, finishing your sentence for you. You blushed as your head fell, eyes looking into your lap.

“Yeah. I thought I’d gotten over that… It’s so embarrassing,” You mumbled, bringing your hand up to your neck to cover up the ticklish spot.

Spencer, on the inside, felt like he’d just won the lottery. What better way to get close to someone than to tickle them? On the outside, though, he kept his composure. He reached out, placing his hand on your arm, prompting you to look up at him.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s a normal response. Everyone is at least a little ticklish and anyone who says they aren’t, are lying. It has to do with nerve endings. And you can’t just get over being ticklish,” Spencer explained, sneakily reaching down with his free hand to pinch your side gently. You yelped and looked up at him, unaware that a smile was creeping onto your face as well. “Now, turn back around. I’ll be careful.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, obeying his words. Your chair squeaked at it pivoted back to its previous position. Spencer’s eyes shifted to where your hand was still covering your neck and smirked to himself before wiggling his finger into your armpit.

“AHA!” You whipped your elbow down and leaned forward. “Spence!”

“Your hand was still on your neck,” Spencer shrugged, an uncharacteristic shit-eating grin on his lips. You grunted and situated yourself back against the chair, sighing dramatically.

Spencer went back to massaging, putting enough pressure not to tickle you, but as he moved to that spot between your shoulder blades and he braced his other fingers onto your ribs, you giggled again, arching away from him.

“Spencer! You said you’d be careful!” You chastised him.

“I was trying to help you!” He replied, going to squeeze at your ribs again. “It’s not my fault you’re too ticklish to handle it.”

“WAHAHA! Noho!” You laughed, squirming in your seat. “Ihit’s embaharrassing!”

Spencer began tickling every exposed spot he could find, watching as you attempted to block each and every one from him. He clicked his tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with being ticklish! Everyone is.”

“Spehehence!”

“Now, repeat after me: ‘it’s okay to be ticklish’,” Spencer ordered, contracting his fingers into your sides with vigor. Had you had any control over your body, you might have stood up to get away from his attack, but you knew that you weren’t strong enough to stand. Plus, you didn’t actually mind TOO much.

“I’m nohohot saying thahat!” You yelled back through your giggles.

Spencer tickled up your torso, forcing his hands under your arms and vibrating his fingers as best as he could. That really got you laughing. “I’m not stopping until you admit it.”

“OKAY, OKAY, OKAHAHAY! IT’S OKAY TO BEHEHE TICKLIHISH!” You belly-laughed, a snort sneaking out at the last second. You instantly covered your mouth, whining and cradling your head in your free hand. “I can’t believe yohou made me snort.”

“It was cute,” Spencer responded quietly, surprisingly confident in his tone. He shuffled to stand in front of you, squatting down so that he was face to face with you. “I think everything you do is cute.”

In shock, your head whipped up, smiling at his confession and that the pain in your neck was basically gone. “You… you mean that?”

“Y-yeah,” He stuttered. “I do.”

Your eyes roamed his face, taking in every inch, and you bit your lip. “Well, I feel the same.” You reached out and grabbed his forearm, rubbing your thumb against his sleeve. “But I have a question.”

His eyes shot up to meet yours. “Anything.”

“You said that everyone is ticklish…”

“Yeah…”

“So, that means you are too, then?”

And with the fear in Spencer’s eyes, you already knew you had your answer.

[ragewerthers]

A Man, A Menace And A Massage

Summary: After a tough day of training Megumi is feeling a little worse for wear, but perhaps his caring and doting boyfriend can help make him feel just a little bit better?

Or... he can be an absolute menace.

A/n: Merry Belated Squealing Santa @lovelynim! :D I'm your stand in Squealing Santa writer and I hope that you enjoy this fic! You gave me so many fantastic prompts for sweet Itadori and Megumi that I decided that I was going to use them all! The prompts were:

1) Oh? You are ticklish here? You mean right *here*?

2) A "massage", but the lee can't stop giggling and the ler wonders why

3) Ah, your feet/arms got stuck? Let me "help" you

4) You. Ten seconds to run. Now.

5) "Tickle monster? What nonsense are you talking about? I hope that the year has been treating you well and I hope that you enjoy the shenanigans I wrote for these two! And thank you again to @hypahticklish for hosting this years event! You've done an amazing job and I appreciate all the hard work you put into it! :D

Word Count: 2708

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

Did Gojo Sensei really have to go that hard?

No.

Well… yes… but also no.  But that was beside the point!

Itadori’s precious boyfriend was suffering!  He was in pain!  He was only hanging on by a thread to this mortal coil! “Oi, Itadori… stop looking at me like that.  It’s just a pulled muscle in my shoulder,” Megumi cut in through the haze of Yuji’s thoughts as he literally saw his pink haired menace staring at him like he was getting ready to take his last breath.

“But you said you’re hurt!  You never say you’re in pain!” Itadori interjected from his spot on the opposite end of the sofa.  A place he had been banished to after attempting to feed Megumi his dinner.  Which would’ve been all well and good had it not been hot ramen.

A man can only get slapped in the face with boiling noodles so many times before he has to choose his safety over severe third degree burns.

“I said that I was ‘sore’, Yuji.  It’s a common occurrence when your teacher is a… well… a Gojo,” Megumi said with a little shake of his head, instantly regretting the movement as he tensed and let out a little growl of pain.

Itadori was instantly by his side, completely disregarding the cushion barrier Megumi had erected after the ramen incident.

“Fushiguro?!  Are you okay?!  Do you need water?  A doctor?  Should I call an ambulan-mmpfth!”

The cushion of his fallen wall helped Megumi to quell Itadori’s spiral into madness as he quickly pressed it to his boyfriend's face.

“Yuji… I’m going to remove this pillow and when I do, I want you to be calm, cool and collected for me, okay?  I’m fine.  It’s a muscle that’s just being difficult.  A hot shower, a little rest and I’ll be good as new.  Okay… the pillows dropping in 3…2…1…..” 

Slowly, Megumi lowered the pillow and instantly regretted it as he was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen.

“No.  No, Yuji, not the look.  You know that’s unfair,” Megumi tried to dissuade as he watched the intensity of the stare grow.

“I just want to make sure you’re really alright, Fushiguro.  Please?  Is there anything I can do?  I don’t like knowing you’re in pain and that there’s something I could be doing but you’re not letting me.”

Megumi could already feel the flush starting to climb up his neck and reach his ears as he listened to the absolutely sincere concern in his boyfriend’s voice.

What was worse is that he knew that Itadori was well aware that he was on the precipice of cracking.

“Come on, Fushiguro… let me help you?”

Damn Itadori and his sweetness!  For a man literally turned into a vessel for pure evil, how was Itadori just so… good?

With a deep sigh, Megumi knew that he had no choice but to accept some help.  Maybe this could actually be beneficial?

“Okay.  But!” he said quickly as he saw the bright grin instantly return to Itadori’s face and watched his boyfriend's energy level spike up to 100.  “No more feeding me, no babying me and please, no more treating me like you’re about to light some incense for me.  Got it?”

Itadori quickly nodded at all the conditions and stood up, offering his hand to his boyfriend.

Quirking an eyebrow, the dark haired sorcerer carefully took the offered help as he stood from the couch  “I can see the wheels turning, Itadori.  What are you planning?” he asked carefully, earning himself a chuckle in return.

“I was thinking about it and I know what I could do to help you.  It would allow me to stay close and look after you without coddling you,” he said as he began to lead them toward Fushiguro’s bedroom.  “I think a nice massage would be just the ticket for getting your muscles to start to relax.  Many athletes find that it's nice to get one after a heavy workout.”

“Or if your Sensei has handed your ass to you over… and over… and over again,” Megumi mumbled, though a small smile was already lifting up the corners of his lips as he followed Itadori.

This might not be so bad.

—------------

Oh god… it was so bad.

Megumi could feel his sanity slowly slipping away as he lay there on his bed, his arms cradled under a pillow so he could rest his head comfortably while Itadori sat carefully on his thighs..

Now all of those were well and good and to be perfectly honest, the massage had started out amazing!

Itadori had made sure that Megumi was comfortably settled on his stomach, that he had all the pillows he needed, that he didn’t feel too much pressure as Itadori settled on him.

Then the massage itself started and oh…  

Itadori’s hands were careful and precise.  Soothing along the planes of his shoulder blades, finding knots and working them out.  Letting his fingers massage along his spine  and down to his lower back where he hadn’t realized he’d also been feeling some soreness.

All in all, the first ten minutes had been so utterly pleasant that Megumi wondered why he hadn’t asked Yuji to do this sooner.

But then, Itadori’s fingers had strayed a little too close to his sides, right where his lower ribs were, and Megumi had flinched.

And sweet Itadori.  He thought it was an area that needed extra attention.

“Oh!  Fushiguro!  This must be when Gojo Sensei sent you into the bushes!  Here… take a few deep breaths and I’ll get those aches worked out!”

Now here Megumi lay, trying with all of his will power not to make a sound or a movement that would let Itadori on to a very well kept secret.

Megumi Fushigoru was ticklish.

Every pass of Itadori’s fingers along his lower ribs only made Megumi tense more, his face buried into his pillow as he fought the far too embarrassing sounds attempting to escape him.

“Megumi, you are really tense here!  This isn’t even as bad as your shoulder was!” Itadori said lightly, as he let his thumbs begin to rub what he thought were soothing circles into the backs of Megumi’s ribs.

What Itadori was really doing was creating a new level of torture unknown by mankind until this point in history!

“You’ve also gone really quiet, Megumi,” Itadori asked, an extra little squeeze to his sides making the sorcerer flinch again as a slightly high pitched whine escaped him.  “Was that a good squeak or a bad squeak?”

Megumi shook his head, knowing that if he answered there would be no back tracking and saving himself.

“Well,” Itadori mused, sounding slightly confused as he let his fingers settle somewhere near Megumi’s hips for the moment.  “I’m gonna assume that things are still okay since you haven’t bucked me off yet.  But I think you’re really starting to loosen up now!  You don’t feel so tense!  And I think I know why.”

Megumi had taken the small reprieve to try and rebuild his iron will like he had tried to build his cushion pillow wall earlier.  “W-Why do you think that is, Yuji?” he asked, his voice still slightly unsteady to his own ears, but hopefully it was something Yuji wouldn’t pick up on.

“Because I think I’ve found the spot that holds all your tension and once we work it out you’ll feel good as new!” Yuji said, sounding proud and excited all at once.  “It’s right here!”

Without any warning, Yuji’s hands moved up and gave a few quick squeezes against Megumi’s lower ribs.

Three things happened in an instant.

First… Megumi’s poor body, completely unprepared for the sensation, instantly flailed as a wild cackle escaped him.  His iron will completely collapsing, much like his pillow wall had.

Second… Itadori’s hands ceased their movement and quickly moved from where they had momentarily been resting against the warm skin of his boyfriend's sides.

And third… the room fell into an almost deafening silence as both parties attempted to process what had just happened.

“..... OH!” Itadori’s shout of recognition startled poor Megumi as he already began attempting to shimmy his way out from under the man, trying to dislodge his arms from under the pillow.

“No!  Itadori!  Don’t you da-AHARE!” Megumi instantly collapsed back onto the bed as he felt ten evil fingers scribbling up his sides and over his ribs, drawing out ridiculous giggles that he had been fighting for far too long.

“So this is why you’ve been so tense and quiet throughout the whole massage!” Yuji laughed, gently testing out different spots now that he had connected all the dots.

“St-Stahahahap!  I cahan’t hehelp that I-I’m tihihi….. tihihic…. AH!  S-Sensitihihihihiive there!” Fushiguro squeaked out, his cheeks already blushing as he attempted and failed to say that terrible word.

Facing curses was a piece of cake.

Saying the word ‘tickle’?  Now that was a true challenge.

Sadly for Megumi, this seemed to be a little extra fuel to add to the fire that had taken hold of his mischievous boyfriend.

“Oh? You’re ticklish here? You mean right here?” Yuji cooed, his fingers now vibrating against Megumi’s upper ribs where they had slowly been migrating to.  He’d managed to slither his way down from sitting on Fushiguro’s legs to easily laying on him, allowing him to keep his boyfriend in place as he continued to explore his vulnerable sides.

The ticklish touch made Megumi snort loudly as ridiculous laughter instantly escaped him, his arms trying to come down where they were currently trapped under his pillow no thanks to Yuji’s past kindness of wanting to make him comfortable and his new evilness at trapping him between the bed and his body.

“Yehehehehes! I’m tihih…. tiihihicklish there y-you bahahahastard!” Megumi cried out through his laughter, the quick vibrations against his upper ribs sending electric ticklish jolts racing through his body.

Yuji chuckled at the sweet noise, basking in the sounds of his boyfriend laughing so freely and openly in a way he never thought he’d get to see.  “Awww, no need for such words, Fushiguro!  Look at how happy this is making you!  And look at that blush!” Yuji cooed against Megumi’s quickly reddening ears, making the poor man shiver and try to bat the other man��s face away. Unfortunately this was only a reminder of his poor arms being pinned out in front of him under his own pillow and his terrible boyfriend.

It was also a reminder to Itadori that he was going to be able to tease his sweet boyfriend for just a little bit longer without fear of being batted away.

“Ah, your arms got stuck? Let me help you then, Megumi,” Yuji said softly, letting his fingers lightly scribble upwards till they were just nestled under Megumi’s armpits. 

Megumi instantly jolted at the soft touch to what he knew was his worst spot, his head shaking back and forth as frantic giggles bubbled up out of his chest and his legs kicked out frantically behind him.

“D-Don’t you dahahahare, Itadori!  I swehehehar you’ll regrehehehet this!” he warned, though he knew that his threats were falling on deaf ears as he heard the man hum above him.  Then he felt an exploratory little flutter of Yuji’s fingertips against his death spot and he snorted as he tried and failed to bring his arms down once more.

“Hmm… I think this might be where you’re stuck?  Let me see if I can’t untangle you,” Itadori teased before instantly beginning to spider all over the completely vulnerable area, only just staying in place as Megumi squirmed wildly before falling into the most hysterical laughter yet.

“OH GAHAHAHAD!  NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!” Megumi cried out, his poor armpits absolutely defenseless against the ridiculous tickling of his boyfriend.  He tried to rock side to side to dislodge his menace, but Itadori stayed put, applying more pressure in the center of his armpits or right under the hollows near his upper ribs, always keeping the other sorcerer guessing and driving Megumi crazy with laughter. “What?  What was that, Megumi?” Itadori giggled, a bright smile on his face as he began to massage deep circles into the middle of Fushiguro’s armpits, making the man buck and snort like some sort of rodeo animal underneath him.

“TIHIHIHIHICKLES!” Megumi cackled, tears of mirth in his eyes as more laughter exploded out of him and leaving him unable to make a sentence any more succinct than that.  “YAHAHOU MAHAHAHAONSTER!”

"Huh?  What did you say?  Tickle monster? What nonsense are you talking about?" Itadori teased, unable to help using that word again and blowing a light raspberry against the side of Megumi’s neck, drawing out what could only be described as the world's most adorable squeal.

And with that noise now permanently etched in Itadori’s heart and memory he fell into his own heavy laughter, his fingers stopping their relentless attack as he rolled off his boyfriend to lay beside him.

As soon as he felt the weight of his boyfriend off of him and those evil, evil hands away from his worst spot, Megumi quickly pulled his arms down, curling in on himself as residual giggles continued to escape him and his tears of laughter still clung to his eyelashes.

The worst part of it all was that even though this had been a completely and utterly uncalled for attack… Megumi could honestly say he felt looser and more relaxed than he had in a long time.

Glancing over at his boyfriend, he could see that Itadori was still caught up in his own laughter at having gotten Megumi to make such a ridiculous noise thanks to something as simple as a raspberry.

Shaking his head as he continued to catch his breath, Megumi reached over and nudged the other man's shoulder, trying not to laugh along with Yuji’s infectious giggling.

“Oi!  It wasn’t that funny you monster!” he tried to chide, but that only seemed to urge on Itadori’s laughing fit.

“Ohoho my gahahad, Megumihihi!” Itadori cackled, covering his mouth as he laughed at the memory of that sweet sound still replaying in his head.  “Thahahat…. wahahas so c-cute!”

Megumi was now blushing for a whole other reason and rolled his eyes fondly.  “Well I hope you enjoyed yourself because that is the last time you are ever giving me a massage or catching me off guard like that again,” he warned playfully, watching as Yuji slowly began to calm down.

“Awww!  Don’t be like that, Megumi-kun!  You have the most wonderful laugh and it would be a shame never to hear it again!” Itadori cooed, making Megumi blush at his words though the smile still remained on his lips.

“I swear, you are without a doubt an absolute menace and I hope you know that I will be getting my revenge, Itadori,” Megumi warned, a playfully evil smile slowly emerging as he watched Yuji shift a little nervously.

“B-But… but I was just helping!  Besides… I’m… I’m not ticklish.”

“Oh?”

“Really!  It wouldn’t be worth trying!  Besides… what about your arm?  Aren’t you still sore?”

As they spoke, Megumi had already started to shift closer as Itadori tried to carefully inch his way back and off the bed.

But never let it be said that Megumi isn’t a man who plays fair.

“You. Ten seconds to run. Now.”

Itadori was off the mattress in a flash, the sound of his footsteps already sounding like a distant echo as Megumi sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

The smile that still remained on Megumi’s face was all the proof he needed that Itadori’s actions had honestly been as beneficial to him as he had thought, though he hadn’t quite anticipated how he would achieve it.

Standing up, he rolled his neck, feeling the stiffness all but gone from his muscles.

And now that he felt so invigorated, it was definitely time to give Itadori a taste of his own medicine.

“TEN!  Here I come, you menace!” he called out, racing out of his room to give chase to his ridiculous, wonderful, kind-hearted mischievous tickle monster of a boyfriend.

[rosileeduckie]

Tickled to Death

Pact of punishment level: maxed. Time face the scariest enemy you didn’t know lived in hell: your own boyfriend. 

Zagreus “helps” Thanatos get out from between a rock and a hard place. For @vqler, who GOD I’m so sorry I’m late but I hope you like me petrifying and obliterating Thanatos for you in the name of Christmas ❤ Much love to you, much love and thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting this year’s @squealing-santa. Kudos and love to everyone who posted for the event this year, happy holidays, and happy new year!

SFW. Potential warnings: just “returning to writing” writing lol. Hades: Zagreus/Thanatos tickle fic.

Word count: 3,075

~*~

Zagreus had attempted enough escapes from the underworld to know, upon even entering a chamber, when something was immediately off. He daresay he was experienced by this point; there were things he’d come to expect. Hordes of enemies, unleashed with love from his father? Certainly. The unavoidable spiting of and smiting from god-cousins for the favor of other ones? Often. Blood, death, and darkness? Absolutely. What he found waiting for him upon crossing from his most recent ferry to the nearest Asphodelian dock was, in a total understatement, wildly unexpected. 

Save for the familiar sound of bubbling, hissing lava and distant magma falls, the chamber was quiet. Zagreus entered as he always did, light on his burning feet and weapon unsheathed, ready to dodge or strike at a moment’s notice. He needn’t have, though, as he soon realized the chamber was befuddlingly empty. Sure, he’d encountered chambers with no enemies in them, either at first glance because they had just yet to spawn or at all because their presence was dissuaded by some form of boon or blessing. But the chamber he currently found himself in had no healing pool, no shop, and no allies, let alone enemies. It was just plain empty.

So busy with examining the room for some sort of clever trap, Zagreus didn’t even notice the obvious obstacle until he fully tripped over it, sprawling onto the rock with his weapon—Stygius, this time—clattering a couple of feet away. Zagreus looked back to see what had caused him to stumble, and his brow furrowed deeper in confusion. A scythe, large and dramatic and adorned with gold and a piercing purple eye lay abandoned on the rock, its usual wielder, the physically and emotively grey demigod that Zagreus had the biggest soft spot for, was nowhere to be seen. Or was he?

Zagreus turned his head, looking from Thanatos’ weapon to his own. A couple of feet away. His gaze lifted slowly upward. The grey and currently half-rocky skin had blended quite well into the environment like a natural stalagmite, and it wasn’t until he was actually looking for it that Zagreus could see that Thanatos was there, and likely not going anywhere any time soon. 

The prince rose, grabbed and sheathed his sword as he rounded the Thanatos-shaped pillar until he faced the front. Zagreus had been grinning already upon realizing what he’d stumbled upon, but that grin grew all the bigger and brighter when he saw the normally brooding Thanatos looking flustered and positively grumpy.

“Don’t—” Thanatos said, sighing in defeat when Zagreus snorted and burst into bright laughter that he tried and failed to hide behind his hand. “Don’t laugh.”

"I'm sorry, but can you blame me?" Zagreus said, nearly falling into another fit of giggling when he rapped a knuckle lightly against Thanatos' chest and the action produced a satisfying thunk. "What happened?" He asked, but it was fairly obvious: petrification. Gorgons were aplenty in Asphodel, and none of them so friendly as Dusa. Most of Thanatos' body was still affected by the curse, frozen in place and turned a stony stormy grey. By the looks of it and the fact that he could talk, the petrification was naturally draining from Thanatos' form from the top first, leaving the rest of him to wait out the "thawing" process in the stiff and stiffness-inducing position of both arms partially raised as those blocking with his scythe, and both feet floating their usual few inches from the ground.

"I was waiting for your slow ass," Thanatos grumbled, drawing the prince to close his cursory examination with a snort. "Expected for us to have one of our contests, but a gorgon caught me from behind. You'd be standing in her remains, if I hadn't vaporized her."

"Remind me to stay off your bad side." 

"“Stay off.”"

“Shut up.” Zagreus walked a slow circle around Thanatos. He cast his gaze outward, studying the chamber without the blinders of adrenaline and stress that tended to make things look fuzzy. He knew Thanatos was powerful, but—blood and darkness—he’d probably obliterated every shade within the next three chambers, let alone their current one. It was just a guess, but, with how thoroughly every trap had been tripped and every structural fault had been compromised simultaneously, as though from a massive blast, Zagreus was fairly certain that A. he and Thanatos were better than safe from shades for the time being, and B. even caught off guard, Thanatos did nothing at half-intensity. Drama queen. “So how long have you been like this?”

Thanatos grunted, straining to look over his shoulder at Zagreus when the prince moved fully behind him. “I don’t know. I didn’t count, as I was counting on you to be quick. Thanks for picking this one time to be the one where you drag your feet.”

Zagreus didn’t respond to the jab with more than a thoughtful hum. He was too busy watching the petrification dissipate, the cold stone color receding like a lava wave at low tide at a slavug’s pace. Ugh. 

“I don’t know how long I’ve been like this, and I have no idea how long I’ll be like this, since I usually have you to cover me.”

“It’s pretty quick, from the hits I’ve taken.” Of course, Zagreus realized upon thinking it over, he was often petrified while surrounded by enemies, and the threat of being sent back down the Styx made him struggle against the enchantment with all his might. Maybe it was supposed to last a long time; he’d just be thin on patience and break himself out. “Helps if you wiggle.”

Thanatos scoffed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “You are an amazing help.”

“Well, what do you suggest I—?”

“Just—” Thanatos huffed, neck and shoulders visibly straining where he tried to move them, move anything, “just keep watch to make sure nothing respawns. I didn’t even want you seeing me like this, let alone your father’s subjects.”

“Any shade would think they’ve gone mad with the heat before they accepted seeing you like this as real. Or they’d be laughed out of the House for such a ridiculous and unbelievable tale, you know that. But fine,” Zagreus replied with a yawn and set himself on a little guarding route around Thanatos, keeping an eye trained outward for ominous growling, keeping an ear pointed toward Thanatos to listen to his comical grunts and breathy swears of efforts, and letting his mind drift elsewhere.

When Zagreus found himself petrified on his escape attempts, a quick shake and healthy dose of stubbornness was all it took for him to bash his way to freedom and back to slashing shades to dust. There had been one time, though, when he’d found himself without monsters to slay beside the shade who’d landed a hit and then lazily floated away and straight into a fountain of lava. (Zagreus could understand enjoying a hot bath, but yikes…) With no adversaries, Zagreus had lacked his usual incentive to escape as quickly as possible. It was odd, to stop moving so thoroughly, without being able to so much as jiggle his leg or tap his fingers or click his tongue. His companion on-call at that time had been Dusa, and he couldn't think of anyone better to offer advice as to getting un-petrified than her. Luckily, the little gifted doll he kept like a keychain on his weapon didn't need to be physically or verbally invoked—that would make summoning under the onslaught of a dozen rakers or one very maltempered ROUS even more difficult—so he pictured the soft snakey toy, reached out with his mind, and called for his companion. In a flash, Dusa appeared, all smiles and polite shyness and readiness to stone and slaughter any foe that challenged the prince. Of course, there were none, but Zagreus' head had gotten enough feeling back to explain the situation to Dusa. Her advice was the same Zagreus had given to Thanatos in the present: wiggle around a bit. And she had, so helpfully, provided a new incentive via her trusty feather duster.

Recalling the event made Zagreus—well, first he flushed to the roots of his charcoal hair, and he was glad he'd come to stand behind Thanatos at that moment, and then—grin, delighted and devilish. "Actually…"

"What?" Thanatos tried to look over his shoulder at Zagreus once more, and found only the slightest more yield in his stone-struck muscles. He could almost touch his chin to his shoulder. 

Zagreus side-stepped accommodatingly to face his captive companion. "Funny thing is, Than, you're not rock. You can feel just fine." He gave another demonstrative flick to Thanatos' shoulder. "It's a bitch when you're being bombarded with enemy attacks. But it might help you break free. If I just—"

It had been a tactical move for Zagreus to move around to Thanatos’ front. For one, it allowed him easy access to scribble his fingers under death incarnate’s arms unimpeded. For another, it meant he got to see Thanatos’ face morph from dismay to betrayal to amusement (however helped along and hysteric).

“Zagreus!” cried Thanatos, the sound colored with a splash of helpless laughter. Truly, it was funny how his technically perfect defensive position, when without his intimidating weapon, left him totally vulnerable to a little tickling. (Well. A lot of tickling. Zagreus was usually on the other end of these fights, and he had already decided he was not letting such a golden fleece of opportunity go by.)

"Yes, Than dear?" Zagreus teased, smile growing wide enough as his victim's when he saw the way Thanatos' cheeks began to burn violet. It took the strength of Sisyphus, but Zagreus looked away from Thanatos’ face, looking instead at his chest and trailing the progress of the curse. Still slow, but with a bit more stuttering speed. The stony color had dissipated all the way down to about his collarbone, leaving the topmost part of his collar golden and shining once more. “No need to thank me. I can already see the curse is lifting faster. You keep wriggling, I’ll keep helping, and you’ll be out in no time!”

A whine that slipped seamlessly into a squeal punctuated Thanatos’ chortling. “But—!”

The dual-eyed demigod slowed his attack, keeping his fingers and just a featherlight flutter in Thanatos’ armpits. It was far from rare for the pair to engage in all-out tickle wars that could border on brutal, but this may have been a bit much. Zagreus didn’t want to overwhelm Thanatos. He waited for even the slightest inkling of dissent.

Thanatos ducked his head, panting and giggling and bumping his forehead gently against Zagreus’. “If someone sees…” It was a thin excuse, between euphoric lips and yellow eyes burning with excitement, and Thanatos knew it. 

Zagreus definitely knew it, holding Thanatos’ jaw in his hands to pull him in for a kiss that ended when the prince chuckled, low and wicked and delighted. “Darling, with how you smote those shades, we won’t be interrupted for awhile, I’m sure.” Thanatos’ eyes scrunched shut, and he bit his lip valiantly against a renewed fit of giggling when Zagreus’ hands migrated gently down his neck and back to his underarms. “No one but me to relish your screams.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Thanatos teased, teeth gritted in a grin.

Able to bear stillness not a second longer, Zagreus set his fingers dancing once again, spidering viciously beneath Thanatos’ arms. Poor death threw his head back as the villainous onslaught sent laughter bursting from his lungs to echo through the lava chamber. His shoulder muscles strained against stone, but, try as he might, he couldn’t lower his arms at all. Not the tiniest inch, not the slightest bit of reprieve. Zagreus grinned. It was spectacular. 

In self-preservation, Zagreus had tipped his head back from his and Than’s intimate moment seconds before going back to full tickle monster mode, which had been smart with how determined Thanatos was to thrash even with just his head. A minute or two of torture later, Zagreus saw another inevitable point of danger. The curse was ebbing; soon Thanatos was free to his shoulders, and that gave him only the ability to laugh enough for them to shake. As soon as his pectorals were free, Thanatos was going to have means, however clumsy, to fight back. With a sigh lamenting the end of a helpless Thanatos, Zagreus took one last adoring gaze at that tickled-mad, wide-grinning, ecstasy-dizzy face, and he ducked.

A deadweight hand swung over his head, and Zagreus sent one of few thanks to his father for increased difficulty in his pact of punishment. It might have been small, but his instincts were good enough now to avoid what would have been an impressive black eye. Blacker eye. Still, stone-from-the-chest-down was not the way Zagreus preferred his partners, so he couldn’t rest yet. Thanatos was flailing his arms with all his might, but he still couldn’t bend over, so Zagreus was relatively safe lounging against Thanatos’ knee. Reaching as high as he dared, Zagreus gave a few quick and indiscriminate tickles—resulting in beautiful answering shrieks—and latched onto Thanatos’ hips. Instead of pinching, Zagreus held on for dear life and dug into the fabric beneath Thanatos’ belt, burrowing into and scratching the soft sensitive spots that had the potential to make Thanatos purr but were currently making him wail like the damned. 

The longer Thanatos suffered under Zagreus’ malicious mischief, the quicker the curse faded. Zagreus’ wiggling fingers seemed to be fleeing from it as they squeezed down Thanatos’ thighs, skittered behind his knees, and eventually dashed to his soles. Thanatos was fully able to buck now, body all but back to his control. Had Zagreus not laid down on the rocky ground, he likely would have been throttled. As it was, he was still out of reach, grinning up at Thanatos and receiving an exhausted but elated smile in return. There was even almost a flash of fear in death’s eyes when Thanatos realized what Zagreus had planned for the finale of their first—and hopefully not last—curse-breaking session. 

“Don’t worry, Than. This spot ALWAYS makes you dance. If it doesn’t free you, nothing will.” Zagreus was positively beaming up at Thanatos, facing no defense in the form of scrunching toes or kicking feet his usually did even threatening to tickle this spot, and certainly not deterred by the pitiful attempt at a glare the smiley and slumped over Thanatos shot at him. 

Any shade that had even thought about reforming within a mile of them had probably changed their mind and stayed dead a few more minutes upon hearing the howl death let out when two fingers were traced delicately under his toes. Never mind the subsequent guffawing screams he uttered when Zagreus raked five fingers back and forth beneath them while his other hand devastated Thanatos’ soles with some evil scribbling that he could only imagine tickled like hell. Those sounds, even if it did make Zagreus wince and almost want to cover his ears, and the blazing, amazing, unabashed smile that accompanied it was better than any boon the gods could give him. Maybe it was a little devil in him talking, but it was simply divine to see his lover so undone and hysterical, so free even when immobilized, so happy and for only Zagreus to see. He wouldn’t mind staying there, basking in Thanatos’ warm and hysterical glow, for a few dozen winters.

His wish was not granted. He barely got a dozen seconds before Thanatos finally shook free from the petrification, yanking his feet away from Zagreus’ hands and subsequently upending himself, laughter having sapped his strength to the point where he couldn’t even float, collapsing on top of Zagreus’ chest and leaving them both wheezing. 

Once he’d gotten back the wind that had been knocked out of him, Zagreus chuckled, wrapping his arms around Thanatos and holding him close, rubbing smooth and soothing circles into the soft warm skin of his shoulder. So gentle and loving was the attention and little kisses he showered Thanatos with that his next words were a jarring dissonance.

“You know, it usually only takes me a few seconds to break free from a gorgon hit when I really want to,” said Zagreus, and he hummed smugly when he felt Thanatos’ face grow warm where it was suddenly buried in the prince’s neck. “Can’t help but wonder if, maybe, you just didn’t want to escape that badly.” He pressed a grinning kiss to Thanatos’ burning forehead. “Eh, Thana-toes?”

Just as suddenly as he’d been pinned to the floor under Thanatos, Zagreus found himself pinned to the floor, arms raised and locked in the grip of a vengeful death, whose amber eyes were absolutely alight with promise and payback, and smoldering more softly with fondness that could not be more obvious when he rolled them. “I will give you three conditions to escape a slow and very merciless end, after which I will personally drag you back down the Styx and deliver just as merciless a wake-up call.”

Zagreus gulped, his grin growing wobbly and his stomach already tickled by a swarm of prickling nerves and butterflies. “And those would be?”

“One,” said Thanatos, summoning a ghostly indigo shackle to bind Zagreus’ left wrist. “Please don’t tell anyone about this that I work with. I’d like to keep some professional dignity. Two.” Another shackled encircled Zagreus’ right wrist. “Don’t you dare call me that ever again.” 

Zagreus couldn’t help but smile proudly at the purple flush that touched Thanatos’ cheeks at that, albeit his smile swiftly turned giggly and giddy as those two shackles pulled his arms taut. 

“Three.” Thanatos leaned in just to nuzzle Zagreus’ ear and scoff lowly when he tried to scrunch up his shoulders. The wickedly sharp tips of Thanatos’ iron gauntlets grazed gently along Zagreus’ highest ribs, making him jolt and bite down on a yelp, grin already hopelessly wide and nerves tingling in anticipation. Zagreus was sure he lost what color he had, most of it roaring to flush and flicker in his hair and ears, and surer that he’d be cursing Thanatos next time, when the latter bowed close to whisper the final condition.

“Don’t laugh.”

[tiklart]

SQEALING SANTA GIFT FORRRRR @tickle-fight-club!!!

I hope you like it 😭💕 I had a lot of fun drawing them :) I was very excited when I got you ^^ merry Christmas!!

I Chose:

Bleach

Uryu*/orihime

- the lee losing a tk fight

[rosiesramblings]

Growing Out of It

Fandom: Stranger Things, Steddie

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Here is my squealing santa submission for @apricots-and-dynamite !!!!! Happy holidays! I hope you like your fic! And thank you to Hypah for organizing this whole thing this year. 10/10

It was a typical summer day in Forest Hills trailer park. Far too hot to stay inside the stifling trailer, Steve was lying on an old beach towel in the shade, lazily watching Eddie and Dustin wrestle as though it wasn’t hot enough to fry an egg on concrete. Max sat near Steve, fiddling with her Walkman, and Robin and Nancy were both holding cold cans of Coke against the backs of their necks as they chattered about college.

Steve didn’t know it yet, but he was about to make, quite possibly,  the biggest mistake of his life. Actually, scratch that, rewind - the biggest mistake barring anything before he stopped being an asshole.

A shriek from Dustin indicated that Eddie had decided to play dirty, and the giggles and protests that followed soon after told Steve that Eddie was inclined to absolutely wreck the brat, summer heat be damned. Steve smiled to himself as he secretly basked in the sound of Dustin acting like a normal kid.

“You’re smiling like a weirdo,” Max said, nudging Steve with her flip flop. “You’d better not be getting all sentimental over there, Harrington.”

“Why, Max Mayfield, are you promoting toxic masculinity?” Steve asked, running a hand through his damp hair and proud that he remembered the phrase from when Eddie explained it last week.

“Uh, no. I don’t like anyone getting emotional, not just men. I am all for everyone shutting the fuck up, all the time,” Max declared, and Steve cackled.

Eddie finally released Dustin with a ruffle to his hair, and the boy stumbled toward Steve, still sporting a wobbly smile. “Steve, Eddie’s being mean to me,” Dustin whined.

Eddie snorted, “Lies and slander! Libel! You just need to learn to respect your elders, my little sheep.”

Steve smiled, reaching out to poke Dustin’s side. “Seriously, Dust, your life is going to be sooo much easier once you grow out of that.”

Dustin’s brows furrowed. “Grow out of what?”

“Being ticklish,” Steve said, gesturing to Dustin like it should have been obvious.

From behind Dustin, Steve registered an unfamiliar look on Eddie’s face.

“What are you talking about, Steve?” Dustin looked at him like he had suggested Dustin try to grow wings and fly. 

“I’m saying, once you grow out of being ticklish, Eddie will have to find another way to torture you,” Steve explained, throwing an arm over his eyes to signal it was the end of the conversation.

However, he could still hear the mischief in Eddie’s voice, sounding much closer than he had been a few moments ago, “Harrington…” he said, slowly, and the warning bells went off in Steve’s mind. He opened his eyes and pushed himself up on his elbows, finding a slow grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “Are you telling me you ‘grew out’ of being ticklish?”

“Uh, yeah? Didn’t everyone?” Steve looked around nervously. “It’s a kid thing. We all grow out of it eventually.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie said, still grinning. “And when was the last time someone tried to tickle you?”

Steve furrowed his brow, trying to figure out how that would be relevant. “I don’t know, dude, Tommy and I would play-fight in middle school, but probably not since then.”

Off to the side, Nancy and Robin had paused their conversation and were observing the scene before them, interested. Robin had a grin, not unsimilar to Eddie’s, creeping up on her face, while Nancy looked a little like a sad puppy, the way she often did when Steve brought up his childhood.

“Really? It’s been that long?” Nancy asked quietly.

“Yeah? But I really don’t see what that has to - oof!” The breath was knocked out of Steve as Eddie suddenly plopped down on top of him, knees on either side of Steve’s hips. “Eddie? What-“ Steve jackknifed up into an almost-sitting position when Eddie clawed at his tummy.

Three thoughts occurred to Steve simultaneously. First, he was very close to Eddie’s lips, and a large part of him would like to be even closer. Second, he might have missed the mark with the whole ‘I grew out of being ticklish,’ idea. Third, if the evil grin on Eddie’s face was any indication, Steve was absolutely fucked.

“Quite an interesting theory you’ve got there, Stevie,” Eddie drawled as he pushed Steve back down. “However, everyone knows that a good theory needs to be tested.”

Steve was so focused on how hot it was that Eddie had him pinned that he barely registered what Eddie was saying. Without any more preamble, Eddie darted both hands into Steve’s underarms and wiggled his fingers.

Steve’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “FUCK!” he exclaimed before collapsing into laughter. Holy shit, it felt like his nerves were crackling with electricity. This was far from Tommy’s quick pokes from middle school wrestling matches. This was so, so much worse.

“What is this?” Steve managed to ask between rounds of snickers.

Eddie snorted at how baffled Steve sounded, even through his laughter. “This, Stevie, is evidence that you were wrong.” Then, he wretched his hands out of Steve’s underarms and scribbled over his ribs and sides.

Steve laughed harder, squirming fruitlessly to try and escape Eddie’s fingers. “Oh my GOD,” he gasped out when Eddie found a spot in the middle of his ribcage that made him arch his back helplessly.

Eddie laughed along with him. “Want to rethink that hypothesis there, sweetheart?” One hand still at his ribs, Eddie reached up to flutter his fingers at Steve’s neck, which made him scrunch up his shoulders with a giggle and pull his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Steve’s mouth shot open moments later with a shriek of, “Dustin!” before his cackling was redoubled. Eddie looked down and saw that Dustin had latched onto the muscle above Steve’s knee and was squeezing ruthlessly.

“Ooooo, did the shrimp find a bad spot?” Eddie teased, voice syrup-sweet. Steve shook his head back and forth, cheeks darkening.

“Fuck OFF,” Steve yelped, squirming harder now that he seemed to have remembered they weren’t alone.

“Still think you grew out of it?” Eddie taunted as he took the hint and gave one final scribble to Steve’s ribs before rolling to lay down beside him. Steve, still giggling, curled up on his side and hugged his knees to his chest. Dustin ruffled Steve’s hair, and Steve was too preoccupied with chasing away the last of the ghost tickles to dodge his hand.

Catching his breath, Steve gazed at Eddie. “Yeah, I might have missed the mark on that one,” he said seriously, before breaking into a grin. “Although,” he said, scrambling to straddle Eddie. “If I didn’t grow out of it… I would bet that you didn’t either, Munson.”

Eddie just smiled.

[ticklygiggles]

The most ticklish person in the world | TsukiYama

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS, @hexalianrebel-blackfeathers!! 🎄🎁☃️ I am your provisional @squealing-santa this year~ I hope you enjoy this fic and I hope this is at least a biiit of what you wanted! I wish you a wonderful night, (whether you celebrate Christmas or don't!)!

Also thanks to the amazing @hypahticklish for hosting the event this year! You're so cool and you work so hard! I wish a Merry Christmas to you too~!

Prompt: Tsukishima “accidentally” lets it slip to the entire team that Yamaguchi is probably the most ticklish person alive.

Once again, laughter ringed through the whole gym as Nishinoya and Tanaka tickled the youngest of the team to death. Even that pesky ball of orange energy was joining in on the fun, wiggling and squeezing his fingers over the victim's knees, making sure to avoid a kick to the face or any other part of the body.

"I sahahaid stahahap!"

Even though it was fun to see the King writhing on the ground and laughing like a ridiculous child, Tsukishima simply couldn't tear his eyes away from Yamaguchi's face.

If Tsukishima didn't know him better than the palm of his hand, he wouldn't had known if those praying eyes were because he wanted to join in or because he wanted to be in Kageyama's place, but then again, he knew Yamaguchi better than anyone and knew that he would really like to be in Kageyama's place right about now.

That was a secret that Yamaguchi hadn't even confessed to Tsukishima yet, but Tsukishima, being the observant person that he was, (it wasn't like Tadashi was very discreet, either), had noticed since they were very young that Yamaguchi, instead of trying to escape the annoying sensation of fingers touching his torso, wanting to make him laugh wildly, he leaned his body towards the sensation. Laughing happily, as if he was having the most fun ever.

His hands, uncoordinated because you just can't think straight when you're laughing your head off and your nervous system is overwhelmed, didn't even try to fight back, they just clinged to the person's wrists attacking him.

Besides, Tsukishima was one hundred percent sure that he had never heard Yamaguchi ask him (or anyone tickling him) to stop, in fact, usually he didn't even speak, he just threw his head back as he laughed and laughed and laughed.

So there was no doubt in Tsukishima's mind that Yamaguchi liked being tickled and Tsukishima didn't judge him for it, actually he thought it was really cute, though, he knew Yamaguchi would be embarrassed if Tsukishima ever mentioned that he knew his little secret.

He chuckled, sending another glance to Yamaguchi's gleaming eyes. He really couldn't be more obvious, could he? And yet, their stupid teammates just didn't notice how hard he wanted it.

Tsukishima really had to do the hard work all the time, huh?

Nishinoya, Tanaka and Hinata didn't stop until Kageyama was in hysterics as they destroyed the setter's hips, (Yamaguchi shuddering and squirming adorably), Daichi-san had to stop them with his own hands to let the poor kid breathe.

Laughing to themselves, they all sat against the wall together with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi; Yamaguchi jumped a little when Nishinoya leaned too close to him, a playful smile on his lips.

"You should join us next time, Yamaguchi!"

"E-Eh?! Ack!" He yelped when Nishinoya hit his back rather hard.

"Right, Ryuu?"

Tanaka laughed, scooting closer to Yamaguchi and also hitting him on the back with a bit too much force, making him cry in pain as Tsukishima frowned, fighting the urge to hit Tanaka in the head.

"Damn right! Tickling Kageyama is so much fun," he said and Kageyama, sitting beside Tsukishima with his face still red, huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. "I think he's the most ticklish person I know!"

"Wrong!" Nishinoya pipped in, slapping his own knee. "He is the most ticklish person ever!"

Not only Kageyama was embarrassed to the core in that moment, Tsukishima noticed, with much amusement that Yamaguchi, perhaps hearing that word jumping from side to side, was blushing to the tips of his ears, squirming slightly as he tried to keep a straight face.

Adorable.

"You both are wrong," Tsukishima suddenly said, making Noya, Tanaka and even Yamaguchi look up at him curiously. Tsukishima smirked, "I do know someone who's way more ticklish than the King himself."

"Oi!"

"What?!" Noya laughed. "First of all, do you know more people besides us?!"

Tanaka also laughed, squeezing Tsukishima's shoulder. "Noya is right! Who could you possibly know that-

It suddenly hit every person that was listening to their conversation, (that honestly could be the whole gym for how loud Tanaka and Nishinoya talked), and everyone turned their heads towards Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi jumped, his face turning as red as a tomato as he looked between Tanaka and Nishinoya and then to Tsukishima, who was smirking and shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, I wonder who could it be..."

"Yamaguchi," Nishinoya said and Yamaguchi squeaked, looking at him. "Are you, perhaps, ticklish?"

Yamaguchi shook his head, "N-No! T-Tsukki is not talking about m-me!"

Honestly, if Tanaka and Nishinoya couldn't see how excited Yamaguchi looked right now, they were really so stupid.

"Haaa?!" Tanaka said, leaving Tsukishima shoulders to now grab Yamaguchi's. "There's no way Tsukishima knows anyone besides you!"

"Oi..."

"Were you hiding this from us, Yamaguchi?"

Yamaguchi shook his head rapidly, "No! I- I wasn't! I j-just- ah! W-Wait, I really am n-not, kuh- ahahahaha! Wahahahait!"

It was his laughter's turn to bounce against the gym's walls. Echoing into Tsukishima's ears over and over as Nishinoya and Tanaka finally tickled him.

"Damn, Tsukishima was not joking!" Tanaka said as he wiggled his fingers against Yamaguchi's sides.

"How could you hide this from us so well Yamaguchi?!" Nishinoya said as he clawed at Yamaguchi's lower sides.

Their touches weren't as hard as when they tickled Kageyama, but Yamaguchi was nearly cackling, his giggles turning into loud laughs as he squirmed on the floor.

Tanaka and Nishinoya laughed along with him, poking here and squeezing there to find Yamaguchi's weakest spots.

Tsukishima was trying hard to hide his smile as he looked at Tadashi laughing like that. Fuck, people really couldn't notice the extreme happiness on his face? He suddenly thought that, perhaps, he didn't want anyone to notice.

"N-Nohohoya-sahahahan!" Yamaguchi laughed, throwing his head back as Noya's fingers latched to his upper ribs.

"Agh! Ryuu! Yamaguchi keeps trying to stop me!" Tsukishima curled an eyebrow, Yamaguchi really wasn't trying to. "Could you do something?"

Tanaka smirked and Tsukishima understood. In a blink of an eye, Yamaguchi had his arms pinned above his head, making him shriek and arch his back as Nishinoya's fingers vibrated at his exposed ribs.

"N-NOHOHO! N-Nohohoyahaha-sahahan! Plehehease, I- gahahahaha!" Yamaguchi's laughter increased a bit more when Nishinoya moved to squeeze his hips.

"Shouyou!" Nishinoya suddenly yelled and in a second, that orange ball of energy was right by his side, smiling widely. "Help me out? Ryuu is a little busy at the moment."

Tanaka smirked, holding down Yamaguchi's arms, though, Tsukishima could clearly see that Yamaguchi wasn't putting up much of a fight.

Hinata beamed and, even before Tsukishima noticed it, his hands were already attached to Yamaguchi's stomach, clawing at it mercilessly. Yamaguchi's laughter went a little higher, more squeaky as his cheeks turned pink.

"Woah, Yamaguchi really is ticklish!" Hinata said wiggling his fingers all over his new victim's tummy.

"Hey, get his armpits!"

"NOHOHOHO!"

Nishinoya and Hinata quickly looked at each other with wide eyes, smirks pulling at their lips. They both left the spots they were tickling and quickly moved to Yamaguchi's underarms.

"AHAHAHA! N-Nohoho! Plehehease, not thehehere!" Yamaguchi threw his head back with wild laughter.

They each took one poor armpit, so they had two hands to go crazy with: on one side, scratching, on the other, digging and then pinching; and then at the other, clawing and poking. Rubbing, digging, wiggling- just every technique their little brains could think of to drive Yamaguchi up the wall.

And they were achieving it. Yamaguchi was losing his mind, laughing in hysterics as Nishinoya and Hinata tickled his worst spot. Tsukishima almost felt bad... if Yamaguchi didn't look like he was having the time of his life, that was.

"Tickle, tickle, Yamaguchi~," they teased and both Tsukishima and Kageyama cringed as Yamaguchi blushed to his ears.

"It tihihickles so bahahad, plehehease!"

Tanaka, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, be can't even talk!"

Hinata, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, I think he'll explode!"

Nishinoya, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, he'll-

"Oi, you three!" two shrieks could be heard and they didn't come from Yamaguchi. They belonged to Nishinoya and Hinata as Daichi-san had grabbed them by their shirt collars and yanked them away from Yamaguchi. "You're being too much, that's torture!"

Was it really torture if the one being tortured is having fun? Tsukishima wondered.

"Tanaka, let go of your kohai!" Tanaka whined but he did what he was told and freed Yamaguchi's arms, the poor boy quickly pulled them down as he let out residual giggles.

"I am going to ban this stupid game from this gym! You're a menace! What would you have done if Yamaguchi passed out, huh? You three really should learn...-"

Yamaguchi, shaking slightly, quickly crawled back beside Tsukishima, sitting down with a long, satisfied sigh.

Tsukishima looked at him and he smirked, "was that fun?"

Yamaguchi flushed, sending a shy glance to Tsukishima, "you're the worst, Tsukki."

Tsukishima chuckled, "Well, I just said you were the most ticklish person ever, I didn't tell them to check it out, did I?"

Yamaguchi huffed, but a shy smile pulled at the corners of his lips, making something in Tsukishima's chest flutter warmly and he couldn't help but discreetly reach out to link his pinky with Yamaguchi's.

It was painfully obvious that Yamaguchi liked being tickled, but Tsukishima was glad that this bunch of idiots didn't notice because, even though Tadashi hadn't told him directly, it was their little shared secret and Tsukishima was glad he was the only one to know about it!

[gigglyrambles]

Of Campaigns & Revelations (Steve/Eddie)

Fandom: Stranger Things Characters: Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson Summary: Eddie loves planning campaigns, Steve loves planning events. So how exactly did the dream team get so sidetracked? Words: 2700+

Notes: Ahhhh not only is he late with his first fic on this account, but he's late for SS too. I was lucky enough to write a fic for the absolutely incredibly talented @rosiesramblings! I tried to use all of your prompts (earning a reward, too much energy and boredom) somewhere in the fic and apologies for the late post, but I hope you like It!!! A big thank you to our lovely host @hypahticklish too. Happy happy holidays and a wonderful new year to everyone.

Sometimes, Eddie Munson laughs and Steve swears it could shatter that Garfield mug he’s so obsessed with— despite the fact that he only uses the damn thing for hot chocolate.

Like the breathy laughter that burst from his lips last friday, When Robin spent a little too long comparing an old photo of Steve to the baby from The Labyrinth. Most memorably, a joke about their shared fashion taste had the party’s favorite dungeon master quite literally wheezing on the shag carpet, clutching his sides as if he’d never recover from the sheer hilarity of it all.

Or perhaps he was thinking of the high pitched yelp of laughter that broke free every time he was caught off guard. As much as Eddie hated to be genuinely scared, he found way too much amusement in getting jump scared. Shitty horror films, friends hiding behind doors, or even that lame haunted house from Halloween— All of the above earned the same result, a shriek that dissolved into laughter about halfway through.

Then again, they weren’t all bubbly and loud. Eddie’s laughter could be soft and sweet too, harboring an almost shy cadence when the time called for it and…

It’s at this exact moment, with utensils ever so neatly tucked into napkins and plates set along the grand mahogany dining room table, that Steve realizes he’s been thinking about Eddie Munson way too much. All it took was one crappy little chuckle, one silly reaction to a half assed joke, for his thoughts to wander. Anything the other said during his trance was a mystery, though as that playful voice came back into frame, Steve figured the context clues were probably easy enough to figure out.

“-not a fighter, clearly. Maybe a Paladin or a bard. One thing is for sure, you’d definitely play an elf or a half elf. A prince maybe. Estranged?” Eddie’s rambles are definitely pointed towards him, although it’s clearly more of a conversation with himself than anything else.

Calf crossed over thigh, he sits on the kitchen counter. Pale hands hold a green piping bag steady over a tray of freshly cooked sugar cookies, adding some ghoulish finishing touches. “Just say the word, Big Boy, and I’ll create the most perfect, personalized Steve Harrington campaign of the year.”

“You mean the only Steve Harrington campaign of the year?” Steve retorts.

Just like always, sarcasm drips from his lips like honey. Even after volunteering his house, time and energy to Eddie and his Hellfire Goblins, the self proclaimed babysitter still can’t seem to fight his natural born grumpiness.

That persona was like a security blanket or a teddy bear; Steve’s always relied on it to make the world less scary or more accurately, to make himself less vulnerable. The Harrington Boy, The King, The Babysitter, every new iteration had improvements, but they also had one thing in common: A security mechanism, an off switch of sorts. Something that Eddie Munson clearly lacked.

“Only cause you’re a buzzkill.” Eddie insists, licking a bit of green from his fingertips.

The cookies are far from perfect but they’ll undoubtedly impress the kids. Dark eyes examine each one with a precision he definitely didn’t supply when creating them, though eventually he deems them good enough with a dimpled grin and a cheeky thumbs up.

With two hours left on the clock, Eddie finds himself at a loss. All the fun tasks for the campaign tonight have been finished. Food and snacks were the first on the list to be crossed off with pizza scheduled for later and fresh baked cookies set to the side. Decorations were next. Everything from miniature figurines to home made maps to origami dragons and mini potion bottles for the kids filled with juice.

The idea to spike the potion bottles had been vetoed with a very amusing yet indignant huff. Despite Eddie's insistence that he was a 'born rebel' at fifteen, Steve refuses to give them a lick of alcohol before they hit senior year.

Aside from that, all that was left was mundane tasks like vacuuming or cleaning up the newly created mess in the kitchen. Most people would have cheered, thankful to finish their list of chores before the fun could begin. Though most people didn’t have as much energy as Eddie Munson.

“Well this is it, Stevie.” Eddie pipes up a few moments later, watching the other brunette readjust the table settings for a bunch of soon to be sophomores who definitely wouldn’t notice if the fork was on the left side or the right. “Two hours left and you’re too busy turning my campaign into a murder mystery dinner to pay attention to me so clearly? I’m dying. I can’t believe I’m gonna die of boredom in the Harrington Household… So big. So cold. So… white and mundane for someone as vibrant as myself.”

Eddie’s melodramatic performance is enough to peak Steve’s interest, but not his amusement.

“Finish Vacuuming the living room or stop complaining” Steve answers flatly. Over time, he’s learned that playing into the antics only magnifies them. Ninety nine percent of the time, just disregarding Eddie’s insane childish tendencies made them go away. “Besides, you can’t die from boredom.”

Ninety nine percent of the time, that would have worked.

Unfortunately, there was still that worrisome one percent to worry about.

“Well you might.”

“I might what—” Oblivious as ever, Steve finally ditches the table settings. Turning on his heel, the brunette’s lips are already parted, ready to question what the hell that response implies when he catches sight of the other’s stance.

Kitchen counter long since abandoned, the feisty dungeon master is taking stake across the room. Socked feet slide across dark polished wood, eerily unsettling in the quiet pace they set. Pale hands are held up, turned into claws with wiggling fingers that make Steve’s stomach flip as uncertainty settles in.

“Okay, okay. You might not die from my boredom.” Eddie hums lowly, lips curling into a grin that can only be described as downright mischievous. Each word is drawn out slower than the last, anticipation building between the two. “But you might not survive the cure. Let's see. I already tried knock knock jokes, barely effective. Funny movies, ehh somewhat works— Unless they’re too weird. Then you just sit all grumpy and confused— Anyway, not the point! Dear Steven, my point is…”

Similar to those puzzles Nancy used to force on him while babysitting Mike, he should’ve figured it out sooner, but he’s definitely seeing the picture a bit more clearly with time. They’re approximately halfway through Eddie’s villainous monologue when it clicks. Every example revolves around making him laugh which is an incredibly flustering thought all on its own. Out of all the ways to cure his boredom, Eddie wanted to do so while making Steve smile. Most people focused on his hair, his ass, his better known assets.

Eddie Munson was the first person to ever fixate on something so mundane.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have a second to worry about the heat crawling up the back of his neck, or the slowly developing crush that he’s most certainly going to ignore.

“… that I never asked if you were ticklish. Always felt like a cheap shot, you know? Low hanging fruit, but in the name of science, we do have to test every—” And that’s all it takes. The second the word ticklish leaves Eddie’s lips, the former jock is sprinting across the length of the dining room table and out of the room.

Heart hammering in his chest, the beat is so loud Steve can practically hear it ringing in his ears. White converse round a corner, running into the living room while quick footsteps sound close behind.

“Oh come on, Pretty Boy.” Eddie snorts through a laugh of his own. “Don’t run away from me!”

If he just looked back, he would have seen the way Eddie smiled at him from ear to ear, excitement and giddiness bursting from his pores. He would have seen the way the other nearly slipped in his socks, clearly lacking any grip as they ran around like little boys again. He would have seen the way those dark eyes lingered, how they drank him in, admiring his toned legs from years of athletics.

If he just looked back, maybe he would have registered how close he was to his demise. Then again, if he looked back, then Eddie might have seen how flustering that pet name was, or worse: He could have seen the smile tugging at his lips.

One foot rounds the corner of the couch but never gets the opportunity to touch down. Instead, fingers curl around the back of his sweater, swiftly pulling Steve until he’s falling. His back hits the sofa cushions with a soft grunt, brown locks splayed across the decorative pillow.

Everything flips in an instant. Eddie’s upper hand turns to shit the second he jumps onto the couch. Leaving more than enough room in between them, Steve takes the opportunity to act. Lightning quick reflexes give him just enough time to weave underneath the metalhead’s arm, flipping their positions until Eddie’s the one with his back against the couch and wide eyes looking up.

Though rather than looking scared he looks… exhilarated.

Any anxiety written across Steve’s face a minute ago is missing from Eddie’s now. As the general surprise wears off, he goes from wide eyed to giggly, immediately throwing his hands up in a mercy pose he knows won’t work. Wild curls fall in every direction, the occasional soft breathy laugh stumbling from his lips as he tries to worm out from underneath Steve’s pin.

“Stevie, C’mon. I was just trying to have a little bit of fun- Wait wait- Steve Hey-” In the long debated question of Dungeon Master Vs. Varsity Athlete, they finally know who comes out on top. Eddie’s rambled mixture of explanations, apologies and pleas fall on deaf ears the second nimble fingers touch down on his sides.

One of the most accessible vantage points, it proves rather successful when one squeeze elicits a sharp huff, all the air in his lungs leaving at once. Eddie’s body instinctively tries to pull away again, hands attempting to intercept Steve’s insistent poking and prodding of the soft flesh.

The silence lasts all of seven seconds. Any attempt to threaten Steve dies on his lips, choked out to make room for all the laughter taking control. Immediately thrashing around to the best of his ability, it’s clear that Eddie’s not going down peacefully.

“A little bit of fun doing what, Eds?” Steve questions. “Annoying me? Chasing me around my own house? I mean, shit, Munson. How the hell do you even have all of this energy? Honestly. I did you a favor flipping the tables, you clearly needed to tire yourself out.”

Each new guess and tease is accentuated with another poke at his vulnerable sides. One to the left right below his ribs, one to the right closer to his back, two on either side near his tummy, and one aimed in that squishy spot directly above his pantline— One that has his giggles interlaced with squeaks and squeals, struggling to handle any sort of stimulation that close to his hips.

“Nohohoho not thehehere!” Eddie whines half heartedly, though Steve can’t help but notice how little he fights back, hardly using any strength whatsoever in his attempts to grab onto those tortuous digits.

Thankfully for the thrashing Dungeon Master, Steve doesn’t get the chance to drill his thumbs into the divots of his hips for very long. An incredible stop on his grand tour of Eddie Munson’s giggle buttons, the destination proves to be too much. One sharp dig earns a yell so piercing the neighbor’s dog begins to bark, rough hands diving forward to grab onto anything for some sort of stability.

What Eddie’s trained fingers find instead is that squeezing Steve Harrington’s thighs renders the guy practically useless. A loud shriek splatters around the room, high pitched almost desperate giggles flying from his mouth. Any ounce of strength was sapped, curling up against Eddie’s chest in a way he’d swear was romantic in any other circumstance.

Umber eyes meet hazel, gazes locked with recognition on both sides before the tables are flipped yet again. Eddie hooks a leg underneath Steve’s knee, an arm worming out from below to wrap around his waist.

Before the Family Video employee can so much as suck in a breath from his fit of giggles, they’re back in the original position with a self proclaimed babysitter pretending not to enjoy himself on bottom and a metalhead who couldn’t hide it if he tried on top.

It turns out that Steve Harrington fucking shape shifts when you tickle him. The former jock’s confident sarcastic persona changes to something else entirely. If Eddie’s attempts to get away were half assed then Steve’s attempts don’t exist. Every new spot or tactic is brought with a new form of laughter, but they all have the same thing in common:

Steve’s leaning into it.

There’s no denying it. When teasing nails drag up his side, he turns into the affection rather than away from it. When his lower stomach is kneaded like a fresh pile of dough, he leans forward instead of pushing back. And when thumbs drill into his armpits, the brunette actually attempts to keep his arms up or at least not locked at his sides god forbid their fun ends too soon after being blocked.

Of course, Steve doesn’t notice this. Nor does he realize that Eddie was noticing this, but one of them has to be the observant one and it’s not the mess of giggles currently turning rosier with every passing second.

It’s almost as if their enjoyment is the key. Once that last bit of hesitance drains out, calloused fingers waste no time. Eddie changes spots again, this time clawing at his ribs with a smile that reeks of both vengeance and affection, a combo punch that would have made Steve breathless if he wasn’t already dissolving under deep belly laughter.

There’s way less talking now too. While Eddie’s an incredibly wiggly and talkative victim, babbling and thrashing through his hysterics, Steve seems to struggle getting anything out other than his laughter, only managing the occasional babble or squeal induced ‘Eds!’.

Finally those skilled guitarist fingers choose to take pity on him, allowing Steve to actually get a word in.

“Nohot… fair.” He breathes out through residual giggles. It doesn’t matter that the tickling has since ceased. Ghost sensations still tease and taunt across his sensitive skin, mentally swearing that he could still feel those fingertips dancing across his torso.

Eddie’s endearment drips like honey, dark eyes warming at the sight of his friend still struggling to get his act together. “No? I think that was totally fair. Plus, I slaved over those cookies, Stevie Boy. Heart and soul. Body and mind. Don’t I deserve a little prize?” His lips curl into a wicked grin, knowing damn well that his next words would fluster more than soothe. “Perhaps shaped in the form of those cute ass giggles of yours?”

Just as expected, heat begins to crawl up the back of Steve’s neck at the sentiment, though the rosy hue on his face from earlier makes it easy to mask the blush currently spreading. As if proving Eddie’s point further, playful pokes return to Steve’s torso, randomly nudging little spots until he’s back to bubbly uncontrollable giggles.

Using the last bit of strength, he reaches out to give Eddie’s side a squeeze, earning matching breathy laughter in return.

The fight grows less clear after that. Stray pokes and occasional squeezes keep both boys giddy, lost in their own little bubble.

For as long as he could remember, Steve Harrington had been a fixer. Even when the most misguided, he tried to right his own wrongs as well as everyone else’s around him. What began in early childhood as a terribly sad attempt of bringing his parents together had warped into a personality trait, a role he constantly forced himself to play out of fear of feeling useless.

But now the pressure of planning a perfect event for the kids is long forgotten and somehow he knows it’ll all work out. Because Eddie’s laughter is interlaced with his, their cheeks rosy and breath staggered. Suddenly, that familiar ache in his chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy as before and Steve realizes while doing absolutely nothing important at all, that he doesn't feel useless. He realizes that maybe…

“Hoholy Shit, Harrington. Forget weed. I think those damn giggles of yours got me high.”

Maybe this feeling between them was something else entirely.

Sometimes, Eddie Munson laughs and Steve wonders if love has always sounded like this.

[lovelymessybubbly]

ho ho ho !!! it is i, santama !!!!!!!! (◞ꈍ∇ꈍ)◞⋆**✚⃞ྉand i come bearing gifts, for a very special person !! i present this present to you, my dearest...

@flames-tstuff !!!!!! (ﾟ∇^*)ﾉ⌒☆ -=★ -=☆*Merry X’mas*☆

i am your squealing santa this year ! and i definitely did squeal when i saw what your prompts were ! it is like we are bound by fullmetal alchemist love !!! ♡✧。 (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡ so i truly hope you enjoy what i have put together for you !! and to you and all my tamadachi, have a most eggcelent holidays !!! *ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚

[sleepysheepytea]

I know it might be a bit early, but I can’t wait to give my gift hehe

Squealing Santa gift for @helloitsghost​

Hihi Ghost hehe I’m your secret santa!! Merry early Christmas!!

[tklpilled]

i wouldn't mind

(aziraphale/crowley)

summary: aziraphale tries to make crowley laugh. usually, he fails.

a/n: merry christmas, @aaaxolotl !! i hope you enjoy your gift :) thank you so much to @hypahticklish for hosting this year! note that i haven’t seen good omens since it came out, sorry for any mischaracterisation!!

[this is a sfw tickle fic!]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A question gnaws at the back of Aziraphale’s mind.

He’s not sure where it came from, but he’s certain it won’t leave until he knows the answer. He glances at Crowley, who looks so at peace, but he has the terribly strong urge to ruin it. It seems silly to think about, really, but the more the question lingers the more Aziraphale craves to know.

Is Crowley…ticklish?

Aziraphale’s first thought is, no, of course not. His second thought is, but why not? There’s no reason why Crowley wouldn’t be. Aziraphale himself is rather sensitive in that way, so it isn’t like it’s a trait shared only by mortals. As he thinks about it more, Aziraphale finds he really, really wants to know. 

He can’t just ask, of course. The chances of Crowley lying are too high, and then Crowley would catch on to what he was doing and hide away any reactions he may have. Aziraphale has to be subtle about this.

He sits next to Crowley and extends his wing out, curling it around Crowley and pulling him into his side. Crowley pays no mind, leaning against Aziraphale and continuing to read the book he’d been given. Aziraphale hums quietly, then slips his wing under Crowley’s shirt so his feathers dance along bare skin. Very subtle.

Crowley twitches minutely, but otherwise shows no other signs of even feeling it. He says nothing, not even looking up at the angel. Internally, Aziraphale sighs—it’s almost external, too, until he remembers Crowley is there. Of course, this doesn’t mean Crowley isn’t ticklish. It simply means he’s either very good at concealing his reactions, or he’s just not ticklish in that particular spot. Both of which are equally possible.

Aziraphale reconsiders what he’s gotten himself into.

It’s years later when he tries again.

They sit side by side, and Aziraphale had purposefully placed his mug just out of reach. He waits until they’re both settled in, then leans across Crowley, placing his hand on the demon’s knee to steady himself. He gives his knee a small squeeze, bracing himself in case it does get a reaction.

It doesn’t.

Aziraphale readjusts his hand, trying not to seem suspicious, and squeezes again—this time at Crowley’s thigh. Again, nothing.

Aziraphale grabs his cup and sits back. Well.

Throughout their time together those few days, Aziraphale makes several attempts; he finds ways to poke at Crowley’s hips, nudge him in his ribs, prod under his arms, and it all results in failure. If Crowley’s caught on to what he’s doing, he doesn’t mention it, but maybe it would explain the lack of any reaction at all. Or maybe Crowley just isn’t ticklish, which is starting to seem more and more likely. Aziraphale is close to resigning his mission. It seems silly to think about, really. Why would a demon from Hell be something as childish as ticklish?

-

Crowley is ticklish.

Crowley. Is ticklish.

Told you so, says the part of Aziraphale’s brain that started this whole mess in the first place. He ignores it in favour of his newfound discovery.

He wouldn’t have even noticed if not for this whole ordeal. It was only a slight response, but as Aziraphale walked by, his wings brushed Crowley’s ear and then—there was a quiet, sharp intake of breath, and that was all Aziraphale needed.

“Are you alright?” asks Aziraphale, as if he has no clue what he’s just done.

“Of course, angel,” says Crowley, nonchalantly. Not suspecting a single thing.

Crowley’s head is turned, so Aziraphale takes the chance to raise his wing and repeat the action. Crowley, this time, flinches so subtly that it would go unnoticed on any other occasion. 

“Crowley,” begins Aziraphale, “you wouldn’t be ticklish, now, would you?”

Crowley tenses up. “Of course not,” he hums.

Aziraphale steps closer, as Crowley steps back. “So, if I—”

“Fine, angel, you’ve got me—”

“I think I need to test this new information.”

Crowley sighs, but he allows Aziraphale to move even closer to him. “This really won’t be necessa—hahary—c-cohome on nohow—-”

Aziraphale curls a few feathers around Crowley’s ear, and he absolutely relishes in the quiet giggles he receives in return. They’re softer than would be expected from someone like Crowley, but they carry a bit of his rasp, and they aren’t very loud either, but they’re from Crowley, so Aziraphale loves them regardless.

What makes it even better, in Aziraphale’s opinion, is how Crowley lets him continue for as long as he’d like.

[switch-writer]

Grumps and Giggles in the Snow

(A/N: Ahhh, the holiday season has kept me busy but I’m glad to finally be able to post this, this is for Spooky!Anon, and it was very fun to write! Truthfully, I didn’t touch Genshin for quite awhile, but this fic (along with the release of The Wanderer, but mostly this fic) did inspire me to finally get back into the swing of it Genshin Impact, research characters, along with regrow and light the spark of loving them once more! I truly had a blast with writing this and I never wrote for this pairing before so it was very intriguing! So I’m glad I got to write it and I really hope it was to your liking! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!)

(Warnings: Tickles, nothing else!)

(Prompt: [Tickly cuddles n chase scenarios (or suprise me!!)])

Today was a day like any other, a peaceful, yet beautiful day. Liyue was in the winter season, elegant white snow falling to the ground as a certain archon bard and an adepti were cuddling up with one another, Venti sleepily leaning on Xiao as the Yaksha stared out at the snow falling to the ground.

“Hmm.”

Venti perked up at the noise from Xiao. “Hm? Something wrong?” The bard asked with a yawn, finally somewhat waking up from his slumber.

“Mm-mm.. just watching the snow fall… it isn’t often we get it here in Liyue.” The adepti stated, and admittedly, the snow was pleasant to Xiao! So he surely wasn’t upset over that in the slightest. Nor was the cold too bothersome to him. Venti was quite warm after all.

However, Venti let out a small laugh. “Yeheah! I forgot that snow isn’t too common here compared to Mondstadt. You like eating the snow a lot too.” He grinned as the fellow anemo user whom he had blessed with the vision nodded his head. “It’s good. That’s all.”

“Well, perhaps you should come to Mondstadt more! Everything is super festive there, along with lots of snow! And I’d be your guide after all.” Venti playfully nudged the stone cold, straight faced Xiao a few times as he grumbled like the big grump he was.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that!” Venti giggled at the ‘tough guy’ who was refusing to smile. “Come on! Please?” Nothing. “I’ll be nice, I won’t even go into the tavern.” Nothing. “…I’ll get almond tofu?” A slight twitch at his lips, but alas, still nothing.

“Oh that’s it. Just know you asked for it!”

Just like that, Xiao felt a smile tugging at his lips upon feeling wiggling fingers at his sides, trying to squirm away from the tickles causing giggles to flow from his mouth. “Hehey!” He raised his voice, trying to be a little stand-off-like. To Venti, he simply found it to make his giggles louder and much more pleasing!

“Ehe! Hi!” The bard playfully greeted the Yaksha who kept squirming and giggling away. “Stohohop ihihit!” Xiao snickered before finally wiggling out of the archon’s grasp, quickly running to the edge balcony where he usually lurked, taking a leap from it and summoning his polearm, sharply deciding to lunge to the ground and did so with ease.

However this caused a mischievous chuckle from the bard, a grin appearing on his face as he dashed to the balcony, quickly using his wind to get to the ground fast yet break his fall, landing on his feet.

“Oho! C’mere Xiao! You’re being a grump and the tickle monster needs to tickle all the grumpiness out of you!”

Just like that, Venti began to rush towards Xiao, the polearm user’s hair puffing up and standing on its ends as he quickly stumbled to turn around since he was facing the bow user, then began to run away from Venti in a haste. And the chase began!

With the two anemo vision holders dashing through the snow, one of them, being Xiao, picked up some snow before throwing it at Venti who laughed in response. “Aww! Don’t be so mean now!” “Then stop chasing me!” And once again, a snowball was thrown at Venti as they ran.

However, a detail worth noting was the smile spreading across the darker of the two, the one who’s being chased, Xiao… admittedly, whether he liked it or not, he was having… fun! It felt silly and it reminded him of memories. Fond ones. Not that he’d admit he’s having fun, but this was making him much less grumpy and cold due to the playfulness.

But after a moment, due to thinking back on memories, Xiao snapped back to reality as Venti tackled him into the cold white snow, a small huff escaping the vigilant demon hunter. “Caught youuu!” “Don’t!” Xiao quickly spoke, causing the clever lyre player to grin. “Don’t what?”

“T-Tickle me!”

“Oh? Well of course!”

And with the yaksha’s failure to see the trick coming, he burst back into bunches of giggles from scribbling fingers on his ribs, wiggling side to side as the skilled fingers from the lyre player tickled away. “Kitchee Kitchee koo!” “Shuhush!” Xiao immediately became defensive, feeling a little bit of red creep onto his face from the tease.

The tough yet horribly ticklish demon slayer began to squirm around from the ticklish feeling. “Hehehey! Ohohoff! D-Dohohon’t be soho chihildish!” He demanded despite enjoying the silly nature of it, honestly… if this is what if this is like in more casual and enduring settings, he didn’t mind! It made the winter season somehow more joyful for him.

“Don’t be so mean now! That’s it! Now I have to use my secret weapon!” “Whahat secrehet— weAPOHOHON!? HEHEHEY! GEHhehet ohohout Of thEHERE!” Xiao shrieked out with his usual stand-off tone. Or rather ‘attempting’ since his laughter majorly sabotaged it, also attempting to bat and shove the bard’s hands out from underneath his shirt.

“Ehe. Why would I do that?” Venti played all innocent. “BEHEHECAUSE! YOHOUR HAhahaNDS AHAHahare cohold!”

“Oho! And here I thought you were so tough, now you can’t handle the cold. I don’t think that’s it… I think you can’t handle something else…” Venti suddenly stopped the tickly feeling that was causing the demon hunter to squirm and thrash around.

“Wh-Whahat?” Xiao giggled softly, clearly confused by the words coming from Venti, and just equally as confused by the fact he had stopped.

“Don’t be all silly… I think you, Xiao, an adepti, can’t handle how ticklish you are!”

Xiao would be lying if he said he didn’t get flustered and go slightly red.

Xiao also would be lying if he said he didn’t shriek upon feeling those ice cold hands underneath his shirt wiggle onto his stomach.

“So this is super ticklish for you?” Venti, obviously well aware of Xiao’s reaction, decided to play dumb to tease the squealy yaksha. The wind archon’s wiggling fingers traveling up and all around Xiao’s stomach, ‘clawing’ playfully at the sensitive spot as Xiao’s laughter became louder with the more time the skilled bard spent tickling him.

“VEHEHENTI!” Xiao finally called out, a squeal escaping him and causing his laugh to go up a octave.

“Yes, Sir Giggles?”

“I’M SOHOHORRY!”

Now that’s a surprising sight!

“Aww, for being a big grump?”

In any other case, Xiao would’ve glared and gave a snarky comment, but right now wasn’t much like any other case. But Xiao gave a quick nod to reply.

“Ahaww! Well, out of respect for anything left of your dignity, I’ll accept your apology, Grumps and Giggles!” Ah nicknames.

Honestly, Venti wasn’t sure he wanted to stop, Xiao wasn’t a laugher, a smiler, or anything like that! So to hear him laughing so freely and bubbly, a smile covering his face as he twitched around and squealed in ticklish joy was beyond enduring and lighthearted, and as much as he wanted to continue, he figured he’d gotten the grumpy mood out of the picture. Besides, there was still much more time in the day to tickle him… ahem.

But finally, the demon slaying yaksha was released from the tickle attack, a bunch of residue giggles escaping him begrudgingly, but if he was honest… he didn’t mind too much. He much rather think and deal with this and all the tickles and giggling that came with it than sulk.

“You alright?” The bard asked, also replied to by a giggly nod as Xiao slowly stood back to his feet alongside the man from Mondstadt. “Hmm… how about this, let’s go back, and we can make something like hot cocoa!”

“Hot… cocoa?”

The usually very defensive man questioned. “Never had that before?” Another silent reply, this time a shaking head to show he hadn’t. “Well! You’re in for a treat.” Venti claimed, gently scribbling and wiggling his fingers across Xiao’s sides; a burst of giggles escaping before the archon began to pull the polearm user behind him.

Apparently Barbatos decided not even 3 minutes after he had stopped was later in the day. But to him, it was worth it to hear that burst of bubbly and squeaky giggles from Xiao.

“Well come on, Grumps and Giggles!” Venti exclaimed as he allowed the winds to swoop them both up and lift them to the balcony.

Needless to say after they both surrounded themselves with blankets, Venti had made some hot cocoa for the two of them, allowing themselves to be warm and watch the snow fall once more with a lighthearted and joyful feeling that the holidays and winter brought.

“…Venti?” “Hm…?”

“…Thank you.”

A small giggle escaped the bard.

“Mhm… Just know you aren’t safe from the cold hands!”

Within moments, Xiao found himself laughing once more, kicking out with joyful sounds and noises.

“VEHEHE—!” Xiao fumbled out in ticklish glee, Venti with a grin on his face before Xiao’s hands began to gently scribble at a certain bard’s hips, causing a giggle filled with hiccups along with the bard’s hands stopping their ‘attack’ to retract and defend from the ticklish sensation. “WOHOHOAH! wahAHAIT! XIAHAHAO!” The archon squealed before the fellow man slowly flashed a smile, his hands quickly making work of Venti’s hips, causing laughter.

Needless to say this is going to be a eventful day of snow and giggles.

[august-anon]

War on Christmas -- Squealing Santa 2022

My @squealing-santa​ gift is ready, and it is for the very very cool @a-fluffer-nutter​! From your BNHA ship list I went with EraserMic, and had lots of fun with your prompt of "The pairing celebrating Christmas or the holidays. Opening presents turns to chaos!" Though, it wound up being more post-gift opening/cleaning up chaos in the end. I hope you enjoy!

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Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Aizawa/Switch!Yamada

Word Count: 1501 words

Summary: Hizashi and Aizawa get a little sidetracked while cleaning up the post-gift opening mess.

[ao3 link]

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Christmas in the Aizawa-Yamada home was turning out a bit more chaotic that year, compared to the celebrations of the past.

While Hitoshi had seemed perfectly content to sleep in until late in the morning, a boy after Shouta’s own heart, the combined energy and excitement from Hizashi and Eri had the whole household up when the sun had barely cleared the horizon. From there, the morning was a blur of messy breakfast, wrapping paper, and sparkly bows.

Now, they finally had a moment of quiet.

The moment Eri had opened her last, largest gift and found a pink, sparkly tricycle inside, Shouta knew it was over. While she would never demand it herself, they could all see how much she was itching to take it out for a ride, snowy lawns and icy sidewalks be damned. Hitoshi, perhaps seeing the exhaustion in Shouta’s eyes, or maybe just wanting to get out of the house because of the flirtatious looks Hizashi kept shooting him, didn’t hesitate to offer to take her out for a ride.

And then it was just the two of them, finally having a moment of privacy, getting to enjoy each other’s company… if it weren’t for the mess.

For so many years, when it had just been the two of them, there had always been so little to clean up. A few pieces of wrapping paper here, a handful of dishes there, and then the house was clean once more. Now, however, their living room was covered in brightly colored foil paper, all ripped to shreds. The dishwasher and sink were overflowing with dishes from cookie baking, large dinners, and sweet breakfasts. The coffee table was covered in frosting and edible glitter from Eri’s (and, admittedly, Hizashi’s) efforts. The house looked like Christmas had exploded, and not in a fun, festive way, and Shouta decided that that certainly wouldn’t do. 

So, despite all Hizashi’s whining for attention, Shouta moved on to cleaning. They had plenty of time for Hizashi’s dramatic forms of affection later. Right now, Shouta wanted to be able to see the floor.

And then, as Shouta tried to gather up some of the stray pieces of colorful paper scattered around the tree, he felt something hit him in the back of the head. Looking down, Shouta saw a balled-up scrap of wrapping paper.

“You’re supposed to be cleaning,” Shouta said, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Not making more of a mess.”

Hizashi gave him an innocent look. “I don’t know what you mean, Sho.”

Shouta narrowed his eyes. Fine. Two could play at that game. Instead of immediately retaliating, Shouta only huffed and turned back to his own trash bag, shoving the balled-up paper inside and continuing to clean. He heard Hizashi let out a quiet sigh on the other side of the room and the rustle of him continuing to clean. That was when Shouta struck.

Quickly, he balled up several scraps of paper, doing his best to make it look like he was only trying to make the trash fit better. Then, he took his arsenal and chucked one directly at the back of Hizashi’s head. Hizashi yelped and whirled around, a hand raising up to where the paper hit him as he gave Shouta a startled look. Shouta smirked, throwing a second balled-up scrap and nailing Hizashi directly in the forehead.

“Oh, you’re on Sho!”

Shouta scoffed, wider grin tugging at his mouth. “I may not have started this fight, but I’ll certainly finish it.”

And then the room became a whirlwind of bright, flying paper. They had bought the pretty, decorative kind this year, for Eri and Hitoshi’s first holiday with them, which meant they were both likely to be shampooing glitter out of their head for weeks. Shouta wondered if they would ever get it out of the carpet.

Hizashi laughed the whole time, loudly and easily, dodging sloppily (despite the fact that Shouta knew he could do better than that, they were Pro Heroes after all) but throwing with alarming accuracy. Shouta, on the other hand, didn’t hold back. He was much more suited for this kind of war than Hizashi, with his skillset as an Underground Hero, but when he finally cracked, barking out a laugh when he accidentally knocked Hizashi’s glasses right off his face, he started to get a bit sloppy himself. There was a sort of fun in that too, not aiming to be perfect the whole time. It was a game, after all. A silly bit of fun. He could afford to not be perfect.

He would still win, anyway.

At least, he would have, if Hizashi wasn’t a dirty rotten cheat. With a battle cry, Hizashi broke from his side of the room, pelting a laughing Shouta with wrapping paper ball after wrapping paper ball as he charged, eventually tackling Shouta down to the ground.

“Hey!” Shouta snapped, trying his best to sound authoritative despite the lingering laughter in his tone. “Get off!”

Hizashi only laughed, pressing his weight further onto Shouta. Shouta scoffed and reached up, grasping around for one of the wrapping paper balls to shove down Hizashi’s shirt. Hizashi gasped in faux-offense.

“I’ve won, and you’re still trying to sabotage me?”

Shouta let out a grunt. “You didn’t win, you filthy cheat, you– ah!”

Shouta’s arm shot down in defense, but it was too late. Hizashi’s devious fingers were already buried in the hollow underneath his arm, scribbling and scrabbling away at the sensitive skin. Shouta bit out a curse, scrunching up his face and squirming underneath Hizashi in a half-hearted escape attempt.

Hizashi gasped in faux-offense. “Shouta, kitten, you’re accusing me of cheating?”

“Even more-so now,” Shouta ground out, refusing to give Hizashi the satisfaction of his ticklish laughter so easily.

“Why, kitten, I would never.”

Of course, the words were accompanied with Hizashi immediately darting forward and burying his face in Shouta’s sensitive neck, so clearly he wasn’t doing a very good job of defending his own actions. Shouta knew he should’ve grabbed his capture scarf off the hook in their bedroom that morning, just in case, because now without it, Shouta had nothing to block Hizashi from nibbling and nuzzling and huffing out breaths that unfortunately sent Shouta squealing.

Hizashi huffed a laugh against his neck, which certainly didn’t help Shouta’s predicament. “Wow, Sho. I think that’s a new record, huh?” He blew a quick raspberry against one of Shouta’s weak points. “That may be the fastest I ever got you to laugh, huh?”

Shouta had never been a man of many words, so he figured a simple “Fuck you!” would suffice as a reply.

But, Shouta realized, with Hizashi’s new focus on one of Shouta’s weaker points, his fingers were less focused and intense, fumbling and half-hearted as Hizashi sought out better reactions with new methods. Shouta had control of his arms again. And Hizashi had far more weak points than he did.

Shouta’s hands shot out, wrapping his arms around Hizashi’s back and rolling them over, scratching his fingers in-between Hizashi’s ribs as they went. Hizashi shrieked, barking out a loud laugh, tilting his head back with the force of it. Shouta shrugged his shoulders up to try and rub the remaining ticklish feeling away (and keep Hizashi from getting any more ideas).

“Not fair!” Hizashi cried out through his laughter.

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “Not fair? It wasn’t me who brought tickling into this, Zashi.”

Hizashi twisted underneath him, probably trying to get leverage to throw him off, but Shouta wouldn’t allow that. He pushed Hizashi back down, planting his legs firmly on either side of Hizashi’s hips, and finally enacted his true revenge. 

His fingers jumped from tickle spot to tickle spot, wiggling and spidering and scratching as swiftly as they could. Hizashi wailed in response, his laughter going near-hysterical as his senses were overloaded, not being able to keep up with how quickly Shouta was switching spots. His hands were always two steps behind in defense, never knowing where to jump next to stop Shouta.

It was a good thing Shouta knew how much he loved this. Otherwise he might actually feel bad about the tears of mirth slowly building up in Hizashi’s eyes.

And then the front door burst open, revealing their two children, both seemingly far too energetic for having been sloshing through slush and snow for the better part of an hour. Shouta halted in his attack, opening his mouth to greet them even as he started to remove himself from Hizashi’s waist, when he was tackled back to the ground himself. Shouta shot Hizashi a glare, wishing the kids were still outside so he could spit out a curse or two at being so sloppy in his own defense. Hizashi winked at him, then turned his beaming smile on their children.

“Hey, wanna see what Sho looks like when he really smiles?”

Maybe family tickle fights would become another one of their new Christmas traditions, after this year.

[soft-tk-fluff]

Happy new year/ very belated Christmas…? I am so sorry for the delay of your gift! But @vqler I was your secret Santa this year! Which is a bit ironic because you were the one who reminded me to join lmao XD! I hope it’s to your liking, I made a short zagthan comic for you as your gift this year (does it even count as this year anymore cause it’s already 2023…) but I digress! I hope you had an amazing Christmas and New Years! Thank you @hypahticklish for hosting @squealing-santa this time! It was an amazing experience to take part of! Which I will definitely be joining again in 2023!

[xieyaohuan]

A Love-Hate Relationship (Squealing Santa 2k22)

A/N: Happy holidays, @amazingmsme! Hope you enjoy the fic! Big thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting this year's @squealing-santa (it's my first)!

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

Prompt: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer Geralt/Jaskier Jaskier/Yennefer ~Jaskier accidentally lets it slip that he likes being tickled & they take advantage ~ Geralt & Yennefer have fun bullying their favorite bard & turning him into a giggly puddle

Word count: ca. 1400

It’s early in the morning when Jaskier wakes up.

He yawns, stretching his arms above his head as he exits the tent. The air is crisp, and he can feel the grass crunching underneath his boots.

Geralt and Yennefer are already outside, sitting in front of the fire, warming their hands, drinking tea.

“Good morning!” Jaskier announces. “Another beautiful day!”

Geralt grunts something unintelligible that sounds suspiciously like “Morning.” He looks grim as usual, but Jaskier has known him long enough to know how to read his face; he’s in a better mood than most days.

Yennefer is scowling at Jaskier from underneath the hood drawn deep into her face, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea. Do you ever shut up, bard? Her eyes say.

“Good morning to you as well. Did you have sweet dreams?” Jaskier gives her his most cheerful smile. “I slept wonderfully,” he continues without waiting for a reply he knows won’t come — Yennefer is not a morning person.

He trudges over to Geralt, who is stirring the fire with a stick.

“What are your plans for today? Kill a koshchey? Slay a striga?” Jaskier is hardly paying any attention to the steady trickle of words pouring out of him like a waterfall. “Banish a banshee? Mangle a mamune? Tickle a kikimora?”

Geralt tears his eyes away from the fire, glaring at him. “I wasn’t tickling that kikimora,” he grunts.

Jaskier grins. He’ll never get tired of reminding his friend that his fight with the monster just a few days ago certainly looked like a tickle fight.

“Oh, but would you like to though?” He asks. He just can’t resist; Geralt is too easy to tease.

Geralt exhales forcefully, not dignifying his question with a reponse.

“Or perhaps you’d like to be tickled by a kikimora?” Jaskier offers. “Perhaps some other monster? Oh let me guess-“

“Don’t like getting tickled,” Geralt cuts him off gruffly.

“What?” The bard feigns shock. “You don’t like being tickled? That’s unheard of.”

Geralt only scowls at him in response, but Yennefer looks up, suddenly interested in the one-sided conversation that annoyed her so much just minutes ago, her deep purple eyes meeting Jaskier’s. “So you like being tickled?” She asks, and Jaskier swears there’s a hint of a smile on her face.

“Of course I like being tickled! Everyone likes being tickled,” he proclaims, perhaps a bit too carelessly, he thinks in hindsight.

“You do?” She gets up, taking a step towards him.

Jaskier gulps. He’s only now noticing the look in her eyes, that dark, amused sparkle that suggests she’s not trying to make polite conversation with her question.

He can feel his cheeks blushing slightly. “Maybe… just… just a little bit?” He ventures, shrinking back as she takes another step towards him.

The truth is, Jaskier has a love-hate relationship with tickling. He’s so ticklish it’s invariably unbearable while it’s happening, but he’s also irresistibly drawn to the thought of somebody’s hands dancing over his helpless body, finding all his sweet spots, making him laugh uncontrollably until all he can do is beg them for mercy.

“Hmm,” Yenn says. “Just a little… I see.”

“I… I think I better go… feed Roach! Yeah, yeah, I gotta feed Roach, he’s not had breakfast yet, I bet he’s really hungry, wouldn’t want to let him starve, would we,” Jaskier awkwardly attempts to change the topic. He’s trying to squeeze past Yennefer, but his legs have turned to pudding.

Perhaps it’s because he’s dealing with an ancient mage thrice his age who likes power just a little too much and has a loose moral compass around wielding her own. Or perhaps, it’s just her eyes and the thought of what awaits him next that are freezing him in place. All Jaskier knows is that he can’t move, and it’s beginning to dawn on him that, perhaps, just perhaps he has made a mistake with his overly honest admission.

“He likes being tickled. Did you hear that, Geralt?” Yennefer is beaming, all the morning grumpiness wiped off her face, replaced by a devious smile.

Geralt looks up, rolling his eyes. “It was hard to miss.”

Her smile is getting wider. “I say we should verify.”

Before Jaskier fully realizes what is happening, she has pushed him to the ground, straddling him. He tries to wiggle out from underneath her, but she’s effortlessly pinning him in place with just her knees.

“Oh, damn.” He chuckles nervously. “I’d completely forgotten that you’re so much stronger than you look.”

Yenn does not respond, but her hands are hovering over his stomach, wiggling slightly, and just seeing those hands is turning Jaskier to jelly.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He wails. “I’m not ready! I’m not-”

Before he can get out another word, she’s attacked his sides.

Jaskier lets out an involuntary eeeeeek, trying to suppress the giggles welling up inside of him as her hands move down and start squeezing his hips.

When Yennefer unbuttons his doublet and pulls up his shirt, scribbling her fingers directly over his exposed skin, he can’t hold back anymore.

It’s just too much.

Jaskier throws his head back and starts laughing. All his efforts to fend off her hands are failing. She’s too fast for him, her fingers alternating between tickling his stomach, his ribs, his sides.

“Help!” Jaskier manages between bouts of laughter. “Geralt, help! Help me!”

He knows he’s made another mistake when he catches a glimpse of his friend’s face. Instead of telling Yennefer to cut it out so he can continue to drink his tea and stare into the distance in peace, Geralt gets up and walks over slowly.

He grabs Jaskier’s wrists and pins his arms above his head effortlessly with just one hand, leaving his other hand free to-

“Nohohohh,” Jaskier squeals. “No, no, no, NO! Wait!”

His protestations are falling on deaf ears as Geralt’s hand starts dancing over his belly, finding Jaskier’s most sensitive spots with surprising ease, the bard’s pleas drowned out by hysterical laughter.

“I think we have a sweet spot riiiight here!” Yennefer is digging her fingers into his lower ribs while Geralt is pulling up his arms up, stretching him until he can't move a muscle, and somehow, that’s making the tickling so much worse.

Being immobile and so completely at the mercy of his friends is doing something to Jaskier’s brain, making him panic, screaming at him to escape at all cost, his dignity be damned.

“Alright, alright!” He cries between giggles. “Please! Plea-plea-pleheahease!!”

“Please what? ‘Please don’t stop?’ ‘Please tickle me some more?’” Yennefer is pinching his thighs, sending jolts through his entire body, making sure that all that comes out of Jaskier’s mouth is more desperate laughter.

“Hmmm…” Geralt hums, his face still a mask. “I think you do like getting tickled.” He turns his head to Yenn. “What do you think? Is he enjoying it?”

“Oh, just look at him,” Yennefer says, laughing now, “he’s loving it!”

Jaskier can feel his face flush, and it’s not just from all the uncontrollable giggling and squirming. He is loving it, in a twisted kind of way, but there’s also something about hearing those words said out loud that’s making him flustered.

“I’m sorry!” He squeals, not quite sure what he’s even apologizing for — teasing Geralt a little too often? Talking too much? Being so deadly ticklish? “I’m sohohohohorry!”

“Oh, are you now?” Finally, there’s a smirk on Geralt’s face, and between fits of helpless laughter, Jaskier can’t help but feel proud to have made his friend smile.

They take turns pinning and tickling him until Jaskier can’t tell up from down and left from right.

“Stop!” He cries, his legs kicking helplessly. “Mercy! Mehehehehehercy!”

“But I thought you liked it so much,” Yennefer teases. “Why would you want us to stop?”

***

When they finally do stop what feels like hours later, Jaskier collapses on the ground, gasping for air.

He’s still panting minutes later when Geralt and Yennefer have returned to the fire and resumed drinking their tea, but there’s a content smile on his face. “I can see why you won that tickle fight the other day, Geralt,” Jaskier calls. “That kikimora didn’t stand a chance.”

Geralt glares at him, but then his glower turns into a mischievous grin. “Oh, you do love it, don’t you?”

“Nononono wait no wait wait!” Jaskier squeals as Geralt pins him to the ground, attacking his ticklish belly once more.

It’s only the morning, and it looks like it’s going to be a long day.

[practickles]

A Much Needed Sewing Lesson (Squealing Santa 2022 I)

Fandom: The Owl House

Lee: Hunter

Ler: Darius Deamonne

Platonic/Familial ofc

Word Ct: 1.6k

Warnings: Tickles, Brief mention of a sewing needle, self deprecating thoughts and words, a touch of angst

Squealing Santa gift for @alexielvee This takes place at some point between Any Sport in a Storm and Hollow Mind. The prompt I used was "Person A is insecure about something and Person B makes a game, for everything bad thing said about themselves (themselves as in person A) one minute of tickles" I am so sorry this took me so long to get out, life has really been getting in my way lately. I hope you enjoy regardless of the wait, happy holidays!

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“Ow!” Hunter yelped as his needle poked through the fabric too hard and hit his finger for the sixth time that day. “Darius, what am I even doing wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Darius responded with a tired sigh. “You just need to be more careful. These things take practice. It would do you some good to learn some patience.”

The two were alone in Darius’s study, all work for the day completed early enough to make time for a brief sewing lesson. Hunter frustrated and Darius running thin on tolerance though, they were making far from progress. 

“I don’t even get why I have to learn how to do it this way! You can do it with your abomination magic easy! Isn’t there anything like that I can do?” Hunter complained.

“As I have explained to you hundreds of times already, it makes it easier to do it magically if you do it this way first. Besides, unless you plan on taking years and years learning abomination magic for such a menial task, you shouldn’t be comparing our abilities. Though I’m beginning to have my doubts on your dedication to learning how to sew.” Darius brought a hand to his own temple and rubbed it firmly. “Now if you want my help that I am so generously giving you with what little spare time I have, I suggest you pick that needle back up and try again.”

Hunter huffed from his position on the floor and gave a slight glare to his mentor as he reluctantly obliged. He continued his work in silence, Darius’s firm gaze fixed upon him. 

“You’re going to tear the fabric if you keep pulling though it that hard. You need to relax.” Darius pointed out, taking care to keep his voice calm so as not to make the situation worse. 

“Well maybe I could relax better if I wasn’t so awful at this!” Hunter burst out, tossing his project onto his lap. 

“Don’t say things like that. Like I’ve said, you just need time and practice.” Darius reprimanded.

“But it’s true, Darius! I’m terrible at this! I’m terrible at sewing, I’m terrible at being in the Emperor's Coven, I’m terrible at making friends! I’m just terrible!” Hunter felt his face go red and the beginning of tears sting his eyes.

Okay, maybe this was about more than sewing. 

The two sat in tense, stunned silence.

Darius didn’t know what to do. Never before had he seen such raw emotion from the boy across from him. He supposed it was a mark of their newfound closeness to each other and felt a slight sense of pride at the thought. That being said though, he had very little experience with comforting others, especially teenagers saddled with more than anyone should ever have to take on. Sure he had his own experience and that of his friends from distant years ago but the tests of time had left Darius unable to fully grasp what the young boy was going through. 

Wait. 

Thinking back to his own teenage years reminded Darius of a particular game he and those close to him used to enjoy in times of need. It was definitely worth a shot.

“I think we’re both overdue for a break.” He broke the silence, making Hunter look up at him, rubbing his eyes in the process, already embarrassed of his outburst. “I suggest we play a game of sorts.”

“Shouldn’t I be working on sewing? Like you said, neither of us get much time to do this kind of thing.” Hunter questioned softly.

“Which, little prince, is exactly why we should step back for a moment and take a break.” Darius said with a soft smile. “Working while in your current state won’t make you much progress. You’ll improve at a higher rate later on. Consider it training.”

“Okay.” Hunter said, quickly adding “But only because it will help me get better at sewing.”

“Whatever you say.” Darius rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced.

“So what do I even need to do for your game anyways?” Hunter asked.

“It’s better demonstrated.” Darius walked over to Hunter, sat on the floor in front of him and moved any fabric and supplies well out of the way. “You have a particular habit of talking about yourself in a less than complementary way.”

“Well tha-” Hunter fruitlessly began. 

“Hush. You asked for instructions and I am giving them to you. This game is meant to combat that habit of yours. If you are uncomfortable at any point, just say something and I will stop at once. Understood?” 

“Understood. Though I’m still confused on-” 

“You won’t be for much longer.” Darius, without further hesitation clawed his hands and grabbed Hunter’s sides, squeezing them rapidly.

Hunter had no time to prepare for the sudden onslaught, making him all but scream with unexpected laughter. “AHEHEAH WHYHY?” He screeched.

“For every negative comment you make about yourself, you get this,” He emphasized with a particularly rough squeeze, “For another minute. As you have already made six, this may be a long game for you.” Darius briefly removed a single hand to form an hourglass out of abomination goo and let it begin to drip, signifying the time Hunter had left. 

Hunter, still helplessly laughing at his mentor’s touch, looked at the hourglass, torturously slow dripping down. “I caHAHAHN’T MAHAHAKE IHIHT THAHAHT LOHNG.”

“Hm. That’s too bad.” Darius’s voice was too monotone to the point that any words he said so casually teased the younger to absolute bits. That was definitely on purpose. “Well, I believe doubting your ability gets you another minute.” He moved to squeeze rapidly at Hunter’s hips, sending him into further hysterics as he watched the top of the hourglass fill with more goo. 

“NOHOHO NOHOHOT THAHAT, IHIHM SOHORRY.” He just barely was able to get out through his own laughter. 

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy this. You’ve barely been trying to get away and you haven’t asked me to stop once, despite saying you would.” Darius pointed out, aside from a steadily growing smirk, emotionless as ever as Hunter flushed at his words. “If you’re really soooo sorry, you can give yourself two compliments and have a minute taking off.” 

Hunter squirmed back and forth on instinct, and had it been really anyone other than Darius, he might have been able to get away but unfortunately (or really fortunately) the older man was far stronger and was easily able to keep Hunter in his grasp. “I CHAHAN’T THIHINK OF ANHAHAYTHING.THEHERE’S NOHOT MUHUHCH TO COMPLIMEHEHNT”

“What a shame. That’s another minute. It’s almost as if you’re doing this on purpose.” Darius said smugly, moving one hand from the boy’s hip to quickly scribble over his stomach.

“I WAHASN’T THIHINKING.” Hunter squealed as Darius brushed over a particularly sensitive spot. “I DIHIHDN’T MEHEAN IT.” He racked his brain for anything he could say about himself to make up for his slip up but the tickles were making it a little hard to think clearly. He then remembered the very thing that got him into this mess in the first place. Yeah. He could use that. “IHI’VE BEHEHN WORKING HARARD OHON SEWHING AND IH”VE GOHOTEN A LIHITLE BETTER”

Darius sighed, “I’ll take it.” A thin layer of goo dissipated from the top of the hourglass, “Though I’d argue that “working hard” and “a little better” are not  sufficient complements.” He figured he should show at least a little mercy and count Hunter’s half-baked attempt regardless.

“I CAHAN’T THIHINK STRAHAIGHT, IT TIHIHCKLES. CUHUT MEHE SOME SLAHCK.” He demanded.

“Oh does it now? It’s almost as if that’s the whole point of this exercise, little prince.” Darius quipped sarcastically. “Though if you really want it to tickle, I suppose we could work something out.” Without any further warning, Darius moved both hands to swiftly prod and squeeze at Hunter’s ribs, causing a scream to ring out from him at the sudden intensity. “This is a bad spot, isn’t it?.”

Hunter didn’t have a clever retort or really any words as he had no choice but to sit back and lose himself in happy laughter. At one point or another he had leaned his head back and shut his eyes, so it came as a surprise when he heard a “One more minute” from a voice above him. 

Darius began to slow down his hands in an attempt to ward away at least a little of what was sure to be lingering sensitivity when the minute was up. He lightened his touch and moved again to his sides, leaving Hunter in constant giggles, as opposed to the screaming of earlier. 

He finally stopped the tickling and moved back to give Hunter room to breathe through the remainder of his laughter. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeheah. After all, Ihi’ve been through haharder training.” Hunter giggled

“I’m glad. If you’d like, we can go back to sewing after a bit of a break. We still have a little time.” 

“Thahat sounds good, but I sthihill need a bit of a breather.” 

“I believe we can work that in.” Darius fondly smiled at him. 

It was truly an odd sight to see Hunter so comfortable and happy and… relaxed. Darius didn’t think anyone had seen him like this in years. He realized with his own smirk and teasy eyes, he might have looked the same to Hunter. They were incredibly lucky to have each other.

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Special thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting @squealing-santa this year, you've been incredible!