#ticklish!Jim

[myreygn]

tkltober day 11: Squeal

Treasure Planet - ler!Silver, lee!Jim

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

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

“Nah.”

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

“Nah.”

“Donʼt you dare say that word again!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“AH- how did you- ehehey, stahahap!”

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

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

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

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

“Was that a squeal I heard?”

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

“NAHAHAHAHA!”

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

[tickletastic]

On the Dotted Line

Fandom: Star Trek

Ship: N/A

Summary: Bones thinks Jim needs a lesson on the importance of actually reading his medical consent forms before signing them.

When Jim had gone for his last bi-monthly physical, he had a long, itemized list of hypos and vaccines awaiting him, Bones lining them up on the examination table with a sheepish, apologetic smile on his face. Bones reminded him that it had been five years since his last round of immunizations, save for a few vaccines here and there based on some of his newly developed allergies. Jim was annoyed and impatient, though he had noticed, subconsciously, that his body had been behaving a little differently for a few weeks. He found himself in uncontrollable sneezing fits when the Enterprise flew past a gas giant, and felt his entire body itch after visiting the science team in the middle of their specimen examinations. He knew the vaccines weren’t optional, but it didn’t make the surprise of them any less annoying. 

The thing is, Bones couldn’t even count on two hands how many times he had reminded Jim about his vaccines over the past two weeks, repeatedly bringing it up in hopes that it would soften the blow when the appointment finally did roll around. Somehow, Jim still seemed oblivious about the appointment, despite Bones’ many reminders, and the signed consent forms that had arrived in Bones’ email minutes after he had sent them to Jim a week earlier. 

“Kid, you know those emails I send you about your appointments aren’t just to sit and look pretty in yer inbox, right?” Bones had teased, wincing when Jim flinched away from the fifth hypo, “they could’ve given you the rundown about this appointment, had you bothered to read ‘em.”

Jim was testy, and he sent Bones a warning glare, “I signed them, didn’t I?”

Bones had just rolled his eyes, deciding it might be best to engage in the conversation when Jim was a little less irritable, a little less vulnerable. 

It is protocol, on the Enterprise, for physicals to be done on a bi-annual basis, most of the crew not changing very much over the span of six months. Of course, the medbay is always open in the case of an emergency, but, for the sake of documentation, complete physicals happen twice a year. 

While most of the Enterprise gets along just fine with two physicals a year, their loyal captain has a long, non-exhaustive list of allergies, a new one springing up practically once a week, and a penchant for lying about injuries. As a result of their own stubborn captain, and other stubborn captains in the fleet, Bones managed to have a new protocol introduced into Starfleet regulations that required ship captains to have brief physicals bi-monthly. 

Bones, sick and tired of his best friend’s irritability and surprise when a new appointment would arise, despite his constant reminders and emails filled up with consent forms, decided that a lesson of sorts would be in order. Bones is Jim’s primary physician, of course, per request of the captain himself, but there might come a day when Bones’ schedule is filled, or he’s attending an off-ship medical conference, when Jim might have to see a different doctor. For the sake of himself, and any other doctor that might have the displeasure of seeing to Jim Kirk’s temperaments, Bones wanted to solidify to Jim how important it was to read his consent forms prior to signing. It’s not like they have to do with Jim’s immediate physical health or anything, right?

Two months later, when Jim’s next physical rolls around, he is begrudgingly dragged to the medbay, upset that he has to attend another appointment when he, “literally had one like a week ago.” 

This time, Bones has gone in a more old-fashioned direction. Bones has, waiting for him and Jim at his desk, a printed copy of Jim’s signed consent forms, his sloppy signature adorning the bottom of every last one. 

“Alright, Jimmy,” Bones says, motioning for Jim to hop up on the examination table, “I take it you read through the consent forms?”

Jim raises an annoyed eyebrow, physically fighting back the eyeroll, “I signed them, didn’t I?” 

“That you did,” Bones responds with a nod, “so you would know that today we are doing some sensitivity cataloging to use for reference in case of later injuries?”

Jim narrows his eyes, a light pink dusting his cheeks, “sensitivity training?”

“Yup,” Bones replies, popping the ‘p’, he shakes the forms in his hand, waving them in front of Jim, “every last detail written down on these forms.”

“Yeah,” Jim responds, nodding in an attempt to hide his surprise, “yeah, of course.” 

“Okay, in that case, let’s get started.” Bones opens the top drawer of his desk and pulls out a feather, placing it on the top of the desk, in plain sight of Jim. “So, would you like to start with rough touch or light touch? We’ve got to catalogue both,” Bones pauses to smile deviously at Jim, “you know, for the sake of thoroughness.” 

Jim’s cheeks are rapidly turning more and more pink as he squirms on the examination table, his eyes avoiding the feather at all cost. “I think I might actually have some business to tend to on the bridge, Bones. Isn’t my last physical enough for now?”

Bones grins, “don’t worry, Jim, it won’t hurt at all. Spock’s got the whole ‘captain act’ handled for a bit.”

Now, Jim openly glares at Bones, and Bones just feigns innocence, “you’re evil. I’m firing you, I’m having you sent to a patrol ship, or one of those garbage ships that collects space debris.”

“Sure you are, Jimmy, sure you are,” Bones chuckles, “so I guess rough it is?”

“Wait- no- I- Bohohones! Shihihit, dohohon’t!” Jim giggles, pushing back against Bone’s fingers digging into his sides, “stahahap!”

“No can do, doctor’s orders,” Bones replies, fighting against Jim’s struggling, “and you signed the forms, you should have known this was coming. I warned you, after all.” 

Jim shakes his head, squirming every which way until he eventually falls back, legs dangling off the side of the examination table as he shrieks in response to Bones’ fingers. 

“Alright, rough on your sides is a 5/10, I’d say,” Bones says out loud, as if truly recording Jim’s sensitivities for anything beyond his own lesson. 

“Shuhuhut uhhuhup!” Jim screeches, body jolting when Bones’ fingers move to his tummy, “nohoho! Thihihis ihihis soho duhuhumb!”

“Wow,�� Bones feigns offense, “this is for your own sake, kid, and you should’ve known all about it given that I sent you all the information.” 

Jim’s laughter is loud and full by this point, chuckling hysterically as Bones pokes and prods all over his tummy. When Bones’ finger grazes the top of Jim’s belly button, he shrieks, unable to stop his own body from arching, inadvertently moving into the touch. 

“I think we might have found an outlier, should I catalogue your belly and belly button separately? Bones asks, spidering his fingers around the sensitive spot, “whadya think, kid? Or should we average the ticklishness of both spots and consider it one?”

“Bohones plehehease!” Jim squeals, desperately trying to push at Bones’ hands, “ihihim sorry!”

“I don’t think you are just yet, but I know you will be soon.”

Bones’ hands move up to Jim’s ribs and Jim screams, squirming so hard that Bones has to save him from falling right off the table. Jim’s fists weakly hit against Bones’ chest as he hiccups and snorts through his laughter, throwing his head back. 

“Ihihim sorry! Ihihim sohohorehehe! BOHONES!” 

“Alright, alright, I’m almost done, Jimmy, just one more spot and I think you’ve learned your lesson,” Bones relays, his fingers slowing on Jim’s ribs, “if I were less knowledgeable, I’d say that your ribs were a 10/10, but I’d say that was a solid 9.”

Jim pants, his entire face red up to his ears, too tired to fight back anymore. When Bones’ fingers scratch roughly into his shoulder blades, he feels as though he’s been electrified, ticklish energy flowing everywhere in his body, his laughter quickly goes silent, and he struggles against the half-hug thing that he and Bones are in, trying to break out of Bones’ hold. 

Bones smiles, incredibly endeared, and lets Jim go, his body slumping onto the table. “Now that, was the 10/10. So are we going to read our forms before signing them now?”

Jim is still giggling, twitching on the table and nodding eagerly, “yehehes, yehes, I wohohon’t doho it ahagain.”

Bones takes a playful step towards Jim, as if he’s going to strike again, and Jim shrieks, curling against the wall the examination table is pressed up against. 

“Alright, alright,” Bones reaches out and ruffles Jim’s hair, “you’re good to go, kid.” Bones eyes Jim, whose face is bright red, clothes ruffled, hair a mess, “but maybe wait until you’re less red to join your crew.”

“Shut uhup,” Jim groans, standing up and making an attempt to straighten out his clothes, “you’re so gonna pay for this.”Bones turns to his desk, not bothering to watch Jim as he leaves, still red and grinning, “sure I will, kid, sure I will.”

[kourtniwritesagain]

He Can’t Even Deny It

A/N: Hi, it's me, Kourtni (formerly thatkourtnichick). I used to write all the time. I hardly ever write anymore, and that makes me sad. Be gentle as I get back into the swing of things. 

Dr. Leonard H. McCoy knew that one day he would have an aneurysm. Not like in a few years ‘one day’ but like this very second ‘one day’. It was a shit mission from the beginning, but turned shittier when a rebel group from the tiny planet they were convincing to join the Federation decided to kidnap Jim and take him hostage. One minute, Jim was standing in front of McCoy, and the next minute, he had some kind of weapon next to his temple. He tried to ignore Jim’s dumbass orders (‘Stand down Lieutenant Commander!’ As if the infant thought using rank would make Leonard listen to him), but Spock used his Vulcan strength to keep Leonard from ripping the rebels to shreds. When the rebels left, Leonard was swearing up a storm as he began searching for his best friend. Spock was next to him the whole time, searching with just as much fervor. However, when they hit the fourth hour and there was still no sign of Jim, Spock insisted they go back to the Enterprise to regroup. McCoy told Spock he could fuck right off, but the Vulcan had the audacity to actually Nerve Pinch him. McCoy awoke about half an hour later in the Enterprise. He roared at Spock for quite some time, which the Vulcan took in stride, only raising an eyebrow when McCoy said he’d kill the Vulcan half of Spock and shove that half up his human half’s ass. Jim would’ve thought it was funny. 

“Get me back down there.” McCoy demanded of Spock. 

“Doctor, while I understand your fear--” 

“Scotty!” McCoy didn’t allow Spock to continue. He turned down the hall and went looking for the Engineer. 

“Doctor!” Spock called after him. 

McCoy kept walking, trying his hardest not to turn around and punch Spock in his stupid face. No one knew Jim like McCoy knew him. The kid had the absolute worst luck in the galaxy, in probably all of the galaxies in the universe. Every minute was another kick to the stomach, punch to the face, or some other kind of torture Jim would experience while in their custody. And because Jim’s the biggest dumbass in the universe, he’d be thinking about how much he deserved it because of past deeds, or he’d be thinking of how happy he was that he was the one being hurt and not McCoy or Spock or anyone else on the Enterprise…

“Leonard!” 

The use of his first name caused the good doctor to pause. 

“You must remain calm. We have a team searching as we speak. Lieutenant Uhura is acting as negotiator between the two factions. Lieutenant Sulu is updating coordinates as they come,” it’s here that Spock placed a hand on McCoy’s shoulder. “We will find him.” 

Spock was right of course, not that McCoy would ever admit it. Barging in like an idiot wasn’t going to be helpful to Jim. McCoy rolled his eyes and shrugged Spock’s hand off his shoulder much gentler than he usually would, hoping that Spock understood the gesture was more affectionate than not. 

“I won’t forget that Vulcan nerve shit anytime soon.” He told his…friend. 

Spock smirked slightly. “ I would never think otherwise, Dr. McCoy.” 

Six hours later, Jim was back on the Enterprise. McCoy wasted no time in waving a tricorder over the Captain while simultaneously dragging him to Sickbay (Jim complained and protested the whole damn time, insisting he was fine). 

Leonard forced Jim to sit on a biobed. 

“Bones, I told you, I’m fine!” Jim exclaimed. “They were really nice, surprisingly! They didn’t even hit me!”

McCoy snorted. “What do ya want? A gold star for not getting the shit beat outta you for the first time?”

“I mean…kinda. I sorta deserve it.” 

McCoy said nothing as he took notes on his pad as his tricorder beeped. 

“You’re not gonna find anything wrong.” Jim sing-songed. 

“Shut the hell up, Jim.” 

McCoy finished up some notes and grabbed a hypo. Jim flinched dramatically away when McCoy tried to jab it into his neck. 

“Hold still, ya damn infant.” McCoy grumbled. 

“I don’t have a single scratch on me, Bones! I don’t need a hypo!” Jim jumped suddenly and raced to the other side of the biobed, making him on one side and McCoy on the other. 

That was the last straw for McCoy. It had been a really fucking stressful day, and the last thing he needed was for Jim to make light of it. 

“You were fucking kidnapped Jim! For almost 11 hours! We were on a random ass planet, around God knows what virus or bacteria wise, and just because you didn’t get the shit beat outta you for the first time in your short and dumbass life, doesn’t mean you’re fine!” 

McCoy was shouting, breathing heavily as he finished his tirade. 

“Now let me fucking treat you so you don’t die in two hours from some other godforsaken allergy we dont’ know about!”

Jim stared at him for a few seconds before he finally said, “Okay, you’re at a level 10, and I’m gonna need you to turn it down to a level three.” 

“Jim.” McCoy growled, trying to convey his feelings without saying exactly how scared he was. 

“Bones, I’m not kidding. We literally sat and talked about the politics of their planet. I didn’t even get a papercut! There’s nothing to treat, I swear!” 

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. It took him a few seconds to look back at his best friend, but when he did, he begged, “Jim…please…” McCoy let all the stress, sadness, fear, worry, and love fill his voice and face. 

Jim looked confused for all of two seconds before his own face softened. 

“Oh Bones…I-I’m sorry.” Jim walked over to Leonard and placed his hands on his best friend’s shoulders. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

McCoy, sensing that Jim was finally going to cooperate, tried to downplay his feelings. “I’d be fired if you died.” 

“You’d be back on Earth.” Jim countered. 

“Wouldn’t matter if you weren’t around.” McCoy responded, looking away. 

“Love you too, Bones.” 

Leonard said nothing, but he did press the hypo gently into Jim’s neck. Jim squeezed Leonard’s shoulders. The two men were quite for a few seconds until Jim, of course, had to break it. 

“You gave me the soft touch.” Jim motioned to the empty hypo in Leonard’s hands. “You totally love me.” 

“There’s another hypo I could use if you wanna keep pushing it.” Leonard threatened. 

“So, what, you don’t love me?” Jim teased, knowing full well McCoy wouldn’t outright deny it. 

“Whatever you say, kid.” McCoy said as he grabbed Jim in a loose headlock and rubbed his knuckles into the blonde head. 

“Hey!” Jim squawked, pulling at Leonard’s hand. 

McCoy wasn’t good with emotions, but he was good at irritating Jim.  

“Suck it up, Jimmy.” McCoy grinned as Jim squirmed half-heartedly. 

“You suck it up.” Jim grumped. 

McCoy didn’t expect it; he should’ve expected it, but he didn’t. The CMO of the Enterprise let out a shout of laughter as Jim squeezed the older man’s hips. McCoy released Jim immediately and pushed him away. 

“I know your greatest weakness, Bones.” Jim laughed as he wiggled his fingers at Leonard. 

“My greatest weakness?” McCoy snorted. “Let’s not forget which one of us folds like a cheap lawn chair the moment their ribs are even slightly poked.” 

Jim flinched slightly before he pointed a finger at Leonard, face already turning red. “Hey, you leave my ribs outta this.” 

Leonard took a predatory step towards Jim, who immediately backed up. 

“Let’s also not forget who shrieks like a banshee whenever their knees are squeezed.” 

“Stay away from me, Bones!” Jim had his hands up in front of him as he moved backwards. 

“And, most importantly, let’s not forget who actually enjoys being tickled til’ they can’t breathe.” 

Jim’s face turned redder than a rose lying against winter snow, and the kid spluttered. 

“Not even gonna deny it, are you?”

“Fuck you!” 

McCoy grinned, pretended to wave Jim off, and as soon as the kid’s guard was down, McCoy lunged for him. Jim let out a shriek as McCoy wasted no time latching onto the kid’s ribs, tickling with no mercy. 

“Fu-huhuck! Bohohones!” 

McCoy gave no reply. Instead, he vibrated his hands and raked them up and down Jim’s ribs. He wiggled a finger or two in between each rib as well, and the kid laughed hysterically. 

“Not a single stop in all your belly achin’, just ‘please’ and ‘Bones’ and ‘no’.” McCoy teased. 

Jim attempted to say shut up, at least, that’s what Leonard thought he attempted to say. It was hard to hear anything through the ridiculous giggles. 

“Let’s move on to some other places, whaddya say?” 

Jim shook his head no, but said nothing, only laughed even harder the moment Leonard latched onto Jim’s thighs. Leonard had a distinct advantage, which he realized was totally unfair. Leonard knew Jim better than anyone else. Jim was his best friend. So, of course the CMO knew every ticklish spot on Jim’s body. The other unfair advantage is the fact that Leonard was a doctor. So, of course he knew the exact amount of pressure, and exactly where to apply that pressure, to have Jim in absolute hysterics.  

And that’s exactly what Jim was in right now, hysterics. Leonard squeezed Jim’s thighs, and he moved up and down, adding more pressure the closer he got to Jim’s knees. Jim was clawing desperately at Leonard’s hands, doing his best to get the older man to stop without actually asking him to stop. Leonard moved to the tops of Jim’s knees and relished the high pitched laugh that came out of Jim. 

“BONES! N-NOHOT THERE!” 

Jim’s knees were a weak spot for him. Not his number one ticklish spot (his underarms were number one), but his knees were the spot that got him laughing like he was a kid again. Jim didn’t have the childhood he deserved, he didn’t get to have tickle fights with family members, he didn’t get to play with neighborhood kids, he didn’t get to be an actual kid…ever. So, Leonard did his best to ensure to bring out as many childhood whims as he could for Jim. 

The doctor squeezed the top of Jim’s knees and moved his ring fingers to lightly scratch at the sensitive skin behind, making Jim squeal and giggle like a lunatic. He kept at it until Jim literally begged for mercy. McCoy moved to Jim’s stomach, which made Jim curl up like a roly-poly. That worked for McCoy as he switched to Jim’s sides, forcing the kid to straighten. Then it was back to his stomach, then his sides, and on it went until Jim was silently laughing and had tears rolling down his cheeks. Only then did Leonard stop. As much as Jim loved being tickled, McCoy loved tickling him just as much. 

“That’s for getting kidnapped.” 

Jim was still giggling as he looked up at Leonard with the dopiest grin on his face. 

“A b-bit of an o-overkill, don’t ya think?” Jim asked. 

“Not even a little bit,” said Leonard. “You deserve an hour of that every day for the next 10 days to match the amount of hours you scared the shit outta me.” 

“Ha! You were worried! You do love me!”

“You’re just askin’ for round two.” 

Jim grinned and slapped McCoy’s shoulder good naturedly. McCoy returned the gesture with a hand on Jim’s back as they walked to the Bridge. 

[dreamthinkimagine]

Music

For @nhasablogg

Music.

That was one thing people didn't think of when they thought of one James Kirk. They would think of Uhura or Spock, but not him. She could often be found singing to herself, and anyone who'd listen, in the halls and break room. You could hear the strings of a Vulcan lute being plucked into a beautiful melody as you passed Spock's quarters. He'd even play in the break room on occasion and allow Uhura to sing along. Jim, however, seemed to never even hum a tune to himself. So, Spock's human half was quite surprised to hear a kalimba from the other side of the Captain's door.

He stood there a minute, listening to the song. It was nothing like he'd ever heard. Oh, he had heard a kalimba before, but the song was nothing he'd expect from his Captain. It was soothing, relaxing, and he wanted to join the melody. He knocked on the door.

"Captain, may I enter?"

"Of course, Mr. Spock." The door opened to reveal Kirk sitting on his bed, the small, wooden instrument in his hands. "What's up?"

"I did not know you were a musician, Captain." Kirk chuckled.

"I guess you could hear it, huh? Well, I'm not so sure I'd call myself one per se, but I know a few songs. It's a hobby."

"Music is a most logical practice, Captain." Kirk smiled. 'Of course it is, Spock' he thought to himself. "As I also happen to play an instrument, would you care if I retrieved it and joined you?"

"Not at all, Mr. Spock." He thanked him and started speed-walking to his quarters. Running would be too emotional. Thankfully everyone ignored him, figuring he was busy with important work. Everyone except for Doctor McCoy.

"Where are you goin' in such a hurry?"

"To retrieve my Vulcan lute."

"That doesn't explain why you're in a rush."

"I have just discovered that the Captain plays the kalimba and -"

"You're gonna play together!"

"...Yes, in his quarters."

"Do you think Jim'd mind if I come?"

"You play an instrument as well, Doctor?"

"Not exactly, but I used to sing in the Church choir when I was a boy, and I like to think I can still carry a tune." He smirked. "It would certainly make his kalimba and your lute sound a lot better."

"You think you can 'carry a tune', or you can, Doctor?" Bones straightened out.

"I'll get some sheet music and will be by in a few minutes."

"Vulcan sheet music is much more complex than yours."

"Well, it's a good thing Jim and I won't be reading Vulcan music," he said and headed for his quarters.

***

Back in Jim's room, he happily plucked away at the keys to a nice little melody. He loved the sound, loved the way the keys echoed over one another. It was relaxing, and that was something he rarely felt being the Captain of a starship.

When his door opened again, he was greeted by Spock, lute in hand, and ready to go.

"My apologizies, Captain. I was approached by Dr. McCoy in the hall, and he is determined to join us."

"Well, I don't see why he can't. What does he play?"

"He sings."

"...Well, this should be interesting," he said with a small, yet surprised, smile.

"What do you wish to play, Captain," Spock asked sitting down in a chair.

"I don't know. What Earth songs to you know? Your mother is human, she must've sang some." Without another word Spock began plucking out an earth tune. Jim recognized it, but didn't know it on his instrument. He tried different keys, trying to find the right notes, but once he found them he caught on quickly.

Soon Jim was lost in the sounds. The lute and his kalimba mixed together so well, forming a sound relaxing to the ear. Nothing else mattered anymore. Just him, Spock, and the beautiful melody they performed for each other. "You certainly know how to tickle the ivories, Mr. Spock. Or, strings."

That's when Spock stopped playing and looked up at Jim, eyebrows furrowed. "'Tickle the strings', Captain? I believe you are confused." Now Jim stopped playing.

"Confused?"

"How can I 'tickle the strings' when I will receive no reaction from them?" Jim saw where he was going with this now. "When I pluck the strings on my Vulcan lute," he said demonstrating, "it makes a sound, as it logically should. But that is not the reaction to be expected from tickling." He reached over and scribbled his fingers against Kirk's side. Jim laughed and pulled away, placing one hand on his side as a shield. "Laughter is the typical response."

"I know Spock. It's an earth saying meaning that you're a good musician."

"The phrase is illogical." Jim laughed again.

"Well -" Kirk was cut off by his own laughter as Spock started tickling again. He quickly placed his kalimba on his bed, not wanting it to break.

"There is no earth instrument that produces a sound such as this. Therefore the phrase is illogical."

"Spohohohock!" He noticed that Jim's pitch got higher or lower depending on where and how he tickled. He began using Jim's laughter to create the melody they had just played.

"I believe a situation such as this would be better fitting for your phrase, though still illogical." Thats when the door opened.

"Alright, I didn't have any Vulcan or kalimba sheet music, but I hope this'll - what's going on here?"

"I have made a fascinating discovery, Doctor. And perhaps fixed an earth saying." Spock then demonstrated and played a brand new melody for McCoy.

When Uhura passed the door, she stopped for a few seconds, listening to the song and walked away humming the new tune. When people asked her where it was from, she'd say, "I heard it from the Captain."

Yes, music was now something people would think of when they thought of Jim Kirk.

[amazingmsme]

Can I request C and D for Captain Kirk, please?

Thank you! These are so much fun, don’t feel shy if you wanna send some in!

C: Chase | What are their chances in a chase, both as a lee and ler?

If he’s the ler, he can hunt down whoever he’s chasing pretty well. He’s really fast & athletic, & he knows the Enterprise better than anyone, so there’s not many places they can hide from him. But if he’s the lee? He’s a goner. He’s so nervous, he trips himself up or hits a dead end & gets trapped in a corner

D: Death Spot | What is their most ticklish spot?

Everywhere. I’m kidding not really tho but I feel like his hips would be even worse than his other spots, which is saying something. Also his ears & back are killer

[rosiesramblings]

Steve Is Forcibly Adopted

Fandom: Stranger Things

WC: 1.5k

A/N: It's been a minute! I swear I meant to finish this like a month ago. I hope you enjoy this fic of Steve and his chosen family.

It was in the early hours of July 5th, 1985, when Hopper and El adopted Steve. It would be a while before Steve himself recognized this, but that night at the hospital was the beginning of their cobbled-together family.

The exhaustion had taken residence in Hopper’s bones, and with the hefty dose of non-opioid pain meds in his system, the only thing he wanted was to go home and sleep. Preferably on the floor of El’s room, but he would settle for the couch outside her door if she wanted space. El had been given stitches and a clean bill of health by Owens’ people, and had quietly accepted the crutches Hopper pushed into her arms. 

“Ready to head home?” Hop asked as El pulled herself to her feet and awkwardly positioned the crutches under her arms. Instead of answering, she started toward the door.

The two of them made it slowly down the endless hallway, quiet except for the beeping machines behind other closed doors. Until -

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington, but we can’t release you until you have someone who can watch you for the next few days,” an apologetic nurse could be heard from behind a curtain.

“It’s Steve. And I promise I’ll be fine, and I’ll come back if anything weird starts to happen, just - please, let me leave,” Steve Harrington sounded like he was half delirious, half on the verge of tears.

“Steve, you were injected with an unknown substance, we really can’t let you leave on your own,” the nurse explained.

Hopper had heard enough. One glance at El’s wide pleading eyes was all he needed before he twitched the curtain aside with a gruff, “We’ll take him.”

Steve and the nurse both jumped, and Jesus, it looks like the kid’s been through the wringer. Bruises littered his face, a patch of gauze was taped over one eye, and Hopper could tell the kid was dealing with some broken ribs by the way his arm cradled his torso.

Steve blinked in confusion as the nurse brightened. “Chief Hopper! Of course, I’ll get his discharge paperwork. Shouldn’t take two minutes.”

XXXXXXXXX

In the hospital parking lot, Steve hung back when El and Hopper clambered into Hop’s car. He kept his eyes on the ground, scuffing the toe of one sneaker. “Thanks for breaking me out, Chief. I’ll, uh, get out of your hair.”

Hop didn’t even have to look to see the way El’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth, but Hop beat her to it. “Kid, I wasn’t lying about keeping an eye on you. The nurse said you need to be watched, so we’ll watch you. Got it?”

A blush crept up on Steve’s face. “Oh, I couldn’t impose, really, and I’m sure you want to spend some time with Supergirl here, and -”

“Steve,” El’s quiet plea stopped him in his tracks. “We want you. To come home with us. Please.” The passenger side door swung open. El wiped a trickle of blood from her nose.

“Get in the damn car, kid,” Hop said gruffly. 

Steve got in the damn car.

XXXXXXXXX

What was supposed to be a week of Hop-and-El-supervision melted into two weeks of all-three-of-them-healing-and-processing, which became a month of Steve-helping-El-with-schoolwork-while-Hop-fixed-up-the-cabin, until one day Hopper climbed up the cabin steps after work, listening to the faint sounds of his kids making dinner together, and he was suddenly struck by how right it all felt.

The three had dinner together, and El turned on her favorite soap while Hop took care of the dishes. Steve took a quick shower, and then padded into the living room in his pajamas. He collapsed on the couch next to El, making her bounce in her seat.

“Do we have to watch this boring show, Ellie? Why can’t we put on a baseball game or something?” He whined playfully.

“Because,” El said primly, “My show is good. Baseball is just men chasing after a ball and trying to get it in a hoop.”

Steve flopped over on top of El. “Ellie, that’s basketball, not baseball. Come on, please?” He turned his face up to give her puppy eyes.

“Get off! You are heavy!” Ell laughed, shoving at Steve’s shoulders.

“Please please please please please?” Steve asked, punctuating each please with a poke to El’s side. 

El collapsed to the side with a bright giggle, shaking her head rapidly back and forth, making her curls bounce. Never one to be outdone, she poked Steve back. “No no no no no no! We are watching my show!”

Hopper dried the last dish and wandered into the living room, settling into the armchair and ready to make sure his kids didn’t kill each other.

Steve just grinned at El, shrugging nonchalantly. “Sorry, Ellie, not ticklish.”

“What is ‘ticklish’?”

“When I poked you and you laughed just now? That’s because your tummy is ticklish,” Steve explained, poking El again.

She grinned, then pushed his hand away with a pout. “But you are not? Ticklish?”

“Nope,” Steve said. Hopper watched as he bit down on the left side of his bottom lip. Hop snorted. Steve couldn’t lie to anybody, except maybe El.

Both of their heads whipped around to look at Hopper. Steve looked indignant. “What? I’m not!” he protested, still biting down on the corner of his lip.

“You can’t lie for shit kid,” Hop chuckled. He turned to El, patiently explaining, “Sometimes, a person can hold back their laughter when tickled in certain places. That just means you have to find the place where they can’t help but giggle.”

El looked like Christmas came early, while Steve’s face turned bright red. El turned to Steve, “Where? Where where where?” Poking at his ribs and neck, where Hop knew El herself was ticklish.

Steve’s eyes widened, before he gently pushed her hands away. “Sorry Ellie. Some people are like that, yeah, but some people just aren’t ticklish.”

“Some people, maybe, but not you,” Hop snickered as Steve shot a glare his way.

“Hop doesn’t know what he’s talking about!” Steve protested loudly, trying to catch El’s hands as they started poking with renewed vigor.

“Oh no?” Hop asked. He surveyed Steve with a critical eye. “El, try behind his knees.”

“Hop!” Steve yelped incredulously, before promptly launching himself off the couch with a shriek as El did just that.

Hop chuckled to himself as Steve immediately shot to his feet, making a mad dash for his room. Unfortunately for him, Hopper had the reflexes of a parent, and shot his arm out to snag Steve around the waist before hauling him into his lap.

“Wait wait wait, Hop don’t, please, please I’ll die, just wahahahahait!” Steve collapsed into bubbly laughter as Hop’s fingers fluttered behind his knee, kicking out at nothing.

El let out a delighted gasp. “You lied! Friends don’t lie!” And she ran over to shove her fingers behind Steve’s other knee.

Steve’s laughter doubled as he visibly tried to hold back his kicks so as not to hurt El. “Nohohohohoo! Plehehease, I’m sohohohorry!

“Now that we've got him giggling,” Hopper explained over Steve’s protests, “He probably can’t hold back when we do this.” Hop dug into Steve’s tummy and raked his fingernails in towards Steve’s belly button, prompting an actual scream from Steve before he started cackling.

El happily flapped her hands at Steve’s reactions as she moved up to spider her fingers along his neck and collar bones. Steve scrunched up, trying to block El’s fingers but only succeeding in trapping them against his sensitive skin.

Steve had apparently lost the ability to form words, and when Hop saw the first tears trickle down from the corners of his eyes, he slowed his hands. “Okay, okay El. He’s had enough,” Hop said, using his thumb to wipe away Steve’s tears of mirth. El retracted her hands and resumed flapping happily, climbing onto the arm of the chair that wasn’t occupied by Steve.

Hop tried rubbing a soothing hand up and down Steve’s back, but he arched away with a giggle. “Jesus, kid, is there anywhere you aren’t ticklish?” Hop asked. Steve stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, but wordlessly moved Hopper’s hand to his hair. Hop took the hint and started scritching lightly at Steve’s scalp. Steve melted into Hopper with a sigh. El, feeling left out, dragged Hopper’s other hand to her own head, where he obligingly gave her the same treatment. 

Hopper pressed kisses to the crowns of both of their heads and tried to chisel the moment into his memories. His thoughts strayed to Sarah, as they often did these days. He hoped she was proud of him. As his other kids’ breaths evened out, he let himself think of her smile. Wherever she was, Hopper hoped she knew he missed her. 

He liked to think she had a hand in El and Steve coming into his life.

[tickle-bugs]

Hey bugs bookanon here! I was wondering if you would be willing to do anymore Star Trek tickles, specifically the crew finding a tickle creature of some kind and wanting to keep it maybe? Or maybe a planet that focuses on tickling, likes it normal there and widely accepted as a form of bonding or something.I’ve seen that concept a few times and I think it’s so cute! If you’re not comfortable with it though it 100% okay! Thanks for taking the time read my ask and I hope you have a great day!

Can We Keep Him?

Summary: Jim saves an alien creature from a poacher's camp and decides to bring it back with him. Bones comes around...eventually.

I really wanted to do the second part of this prompt with the planet and show off some of Peebles's more feral cousins...I just might as a sequel if I find the inspiration. Feel free to enter it in the next round of prompts if anyone really wants to see it! Also thank you to @sapphicquill for helping me figure out a scientific name for Peebles!

TW: brief mentions of death/flatlining and injury in the beginning.

“Bones, would you just listen to me—“

“No! What the hell were you thinking? Risking your life for a bunch of pets?” Bones shouts from his toes. He wants to fucking throw something. 

“They weren’t pets, they were crying in cages! They would’ve been sold off or worse. I couldn’t just leave them there.” Jim clutches his torso and hisses in pain, but his eyes still flare. He tries to stand off the medbay bed. Bones corners him in. 

“And in the process, you almost died. How is that fair?” Bones seethes. “My best friend coded on my table. You flatlined under my care. Legally dead for one minute and thirty seven seconds over an intergalactic petting zoo, you fucking bastard.” 

Medbay falls quiet. Jim opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again. Bones pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a sharp breath. 

“I’m sorry. Bones, c’mere. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Jim reaches for him feebly. Bones inches closer and lets Jim pull him into a shaky hug. He rubs his back, carefully avoiding new bandages and old scars. 

“I can’t—you’ve got a big heart, alright? I get it. But it can’t cost you your life. Not like this.” Bones rests his forehead against the crown of Jim’s head. Every inch of him feels raw, like a fresh burn. 

“Are we good?” Jim murmurs. Bones heaves a sigh. 

“I will be, long as you don’t die on me in the next five minutes. You’re staying overnight for observation.” Bones points at him threateningly. Jim smiles. 

“Roger that.” Jim keeps his arms looped around Bones’s waist. Neither of them are ready to let go just yet.

A bright pink lump pops up out of the collar of Jim’s shirt, a tentacle slapping onto his shoulder, and Bones screams loud enough to wake the dead. He grabs the first thing he can reach—a bedpan, unfortunately—and brandishes it. 

“Woah! Friendly! Bones, he’s friendly!” Jim holds out his hand to keep Bones at bay. The furry…thing disappears behind Jim’s shoulder. It fucking scuttles. There’s a creature in his office. He’s going to burn down the entire ship. 

“You scared him.” Jim frowns. 

“I scared him?!” Bones shrieks hysterically, still clutching the bedpan. Jim gestures for him to lower the bedpan. Bones does no such thing. 

“It’s alright, lil guy. He won’t hurt you. Come say hi.” Jim looks over his shoulder at it and whistles. 

A pink tendril smacks onto Jim’s face, then another onto his shirt, and the creature peeks over his shoulder. It’s a fuzzy, fluffy thing that’s the size of a small dog. It’s shaped like a strange starfish—one side is pink and soft, the other is bright orange and covered in an unsettling array of little nubs. It uses them to get around, it looks like, judging by the way it vacuum-clings onto Jim. 

It blinks with one big eye, cartoonishly sparkly, and makes a warbly sound. 

“Bones, this is Peebles. Peebles, Bones.” Jim gestures between the two of them. The creature—Peebles chirps and waves a tendril in greeting. Bones slowly waves back, dumbstruck. 

“Can it understand you?” 

“I have no idea,” Jim coos in a proud-parent voice, the same one Bones used to use when baby Joanna would babble nonsense at him. It disarms him. 

“What…is it?” Bones puts down the bedpan and moves a bit closer. Jim offers his finger to Peebles and it wraps a tendril around it. 

“I don’t know. But he’s sweet and he was so scared, Bones. I couldn’t leave him. I just couldn’t.” Jim tugs on the edge of Bones’s lab coat. Peebles makes a quiet chirping noise and folds himself into the crook of Jim’s neck. 

“He likes you.”

“Yeah he’s a bit—“ Jim pulls Peebles off of him with a faint pop— “Clingy, but it’s cute. I don’t mind.”

“What if it’s just…suckering up to you to eat you?” Bones gestures vaguely. Peebles crawls back onto Jim’s shoulder and flops down, purring loudly. Jim raises his eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that! We don’t know what it is! You violated a whole chapter of regulations by bringing it on board.” Bones lowers his voice to a hiss. 

“Bones, it’s purring.” Jim reaches up and tangles his fingers in the bright pink fur. Peebles scoots down and suctions to Jim’s chest, visibly vibrating. 

“Don’t come crying to me when it burrows into your chest and…multiplies, or something.” Bones huffs and narrows his eyes at it.

“I’m begging you to stop watching those old movies. They were made centuries ago. This little guy isn’t a xenocron—“

“Xenomorph—“

“Whatever. He’s harmless and you’re paranoid.” Jim cradles the creature to his chest. 

“I’m reporting this to Spock.” Bones sniffs indignantly. 

“Narc,” Jim mutters. Bones presses his thumb slightly into one of his bruises and he yelps.

“I’m writing you up for malpractice.” Jim swats at him. 

“You do that.” Bones pats his shoulder, then gently pushes him down against the bed to rest. 

…

“Captain. Doctor.” Spock nods at them both. “I have found more information regarding the unidentified creature that you acquired.” 

Peebles perks up shyly behind Jim’s shoulder, blinking at Spock. 

“Hello.” He nods at it. Peebles chirps happily and scuttles a little further into view. 

“It seems to closely resemble the pisaster genus of sea stars, commonly hailing from Earth and other planets with similar oceanic conditions. But this creature is markedly different. I could not find any Federation record of it.” Spock takes out a holopad and taps on it. With a tossing motion, he pulls an image off the screen and brings it into the air before them. Holographic images of sea stars flash in comparison with a small 3D scan of Peebles.

“This creature--”

“His name is Peebles, Spock.” Jim smirks. Spock stares blankly before turning back to the hologram. 

“While it is true that it possesses venom, the creature is no more dangerous than a common housecat. It is incapable of administering enough toxin to cause significant damage to humanoids. Its barbs can be quite painful, but they are not life-threatening.” 

“There you have it. Thank you, Spock.” Jim grins smugly. Bones scowls. 

“Anytime, Captain. I am here to answer any additional questions as you decide on a course of action.” Spock’s face almost passes for neutral, but Bones knows his mischief too well. 

“What does it eat? Living flesh?” Bones jabs, glaring at the fuzzy pink lump trying to play with the pretty lights. 

“We are unsure at this time. It has a sensitive, porous dermal layer, but no mouth. I hypothesize that it uses the same protrusions to feed as it does to navigate. A full scan would be required to glean more.” Spock gazes at Peebles. Peebles blinks his big, sparkly eye up at Spock in wonder. He makes a swipe at Spock’s face, then his ear, trying to transfer hosts, but Spock quickly steps out of range. Peebles whimpers.

“So he’s harmless?” Jim cuddles Peebles back to him and soothes him like an infant. 

“Negligibly. I would avoid testing that hypothesis, Captain.” Spock gives Jim a very knowing look that momentarily satisfies Bones…at least until he catches Peebles reaching for him. He scowls and scoots back.

“Still shouldn’t keep it. It could carry all kinds of diseases.” 

“Thanks to Federation advancements in vaccinations, Peebles poses little risk to us by way of disease transmission. But I am sure you already knew that, doctor.” Spock’s eyebrow raises ever-so-slightly. Bones crosses his arms. Jim lights up at the use of the little guy’s name. 

“Well, that’s two against one. If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna try and figure out what this guy eats before he stabs me. C’mon, buddy.” Jim stands and scoops him up. Peebles waves at Bones, its eye curving in some approximation of joy. Flabbergasted, he waves back.

He doesn’t get paid enough for this.

…

Bones knows Jim’s scream better than he knows himself. So when he hears it in the middle of the night, it shreds something inside of him. He’s at Jim’s door in a second, medkit in hand, using his key to unlock the door. He stumbles in before it opens all the way, chest heaving--

Jim holds Peebles aloft, face-flushed, while the little devil attempts to wriggle out of its grip. Grasping tendrils curl up Jim’s arm, way too long, and wrench for purchase. Suction-cupped indents cover his bare torso, an angry pinkish-red against his already rising blush. 

“So, uhm—“ Jim swallows nervously— “I figured out what he eats.”

“We are sending that thing back where it came from, end of discussion.” Bones seethes. 

“Sit.” Jim narrows his eyes.

“Jim—“

“Sit, Bones.” Jim risks letting go of Peebles with one hand to pat the space next to him. 

Bones does as he’s told. His eyes rove over Jim’s bare torso, checking for injuries. He doesn’t like the faint red marks smattering Jim’s skin, ones that the creature has clearly left in its wake, but…he’s unharmed. Visibly, anyhow. That brings Bones some measure of relief. 

“Watch. And don’t…just keep your mouth shut, alright?”

“I’ll do what I damn well please with my mouth,” Bones snaps, his filter waning with his stress and lack of sleep. Jim blushes a pretty pink. Some devilish urge in Bones wants to chase that expression further, but he opts to maintain his dignity. 

“Listen. Something tells me you’re already fed, you little shit--” Jim levels a finger at Peebles and it's immediately wrapped in a tendril-- “but I’ll let you have dessert. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Peebles chirps and starts shimmying again. Jim heaves one long, belabored sigh, and lowers Peebles to his stomach. He lays on his back, shifts to get comfortable, then spreads his arms.

“Alright, have at it.” 

Peebles launches with ferocity and Jim screams. Bones screams and leaps for him, but he pauses when he hears…a snort?

Bones shifts on the bed for a better angle. Jim is twitching like a man possessed, his hand hovering over the mass of Peebles on his stomach. Jim breaks out into giggles that leap with each twist, until he finally curls up and laughs in earnest. 

Oh. Oh.

“Is it...tickling you?” Bones breaks out in a grin that he’s grateful Jim can’t see. Peebles scuttles over his side and Jim yelps, rolling over onto his stomach. He tries to answer, but all that escapes him are broken syllables and the sweetest of smiles.

Bones can’t help but smile wider. He has a certain quota of ridiculousness that he can tolerate, alright, and Jim accidentally bringing a tickle monster on board takes the cake but...it's nice to see him like this. Smiling. Jim's true joy is a rare luxury, these days.

Peebles crawls up Jim’s back, dodging his flailing hands and making soft, bouncy, strange little noises. Breathy, almost, and uncanny--

Peebles wriggles down into the space between Jim’s shoulderblades and the hypothesis is confirmed--Jim’s resulting screech echoes twice. Peebles is mimicking him. 

“Want help?” Bones has to shout over Jim’s shrieking. The whole wing must be awake by now, but Bones can’t bring himself to care about anything but that damned smile of his. 

Jim nods frantically, reaching for Bones. 

“Let him go, you greedy brat.” Bones worms his fingers under Peebles and gets another giggly shriek in return. Bones pats Jim’s arm in apology. 

Peebles dislodges with a pop and a contented purr. Jim flops over, throwing a hand over his face. Peebles slips from Bones’s fingers and nestles into Jim’s chest, just over his heartbeat. Both of them exhale together.

“See? Harmless?” Jim hums, beaming. Bones is too busy committing the expression to memory to argue with him.

…

When Peebles gets his own personnel file, Bones knows the fight is lost. He’s listed in the records as a captain’s aide, the ridiculousness of which sparks amused chatter for days. People salute Peebles as he scuttles around, and he chirps and does the same. It is…admittedly cute. A little. 

They set up little heated nests for him in nearly every corner, desperately trying to keep him out of the vents and maintenance tunnels. Eventually, Chekhov fashions him a collar with a tag on it—just to keep an eye on his whereabouts. A few scrapes with heavy machinery and slamming auto doors lead Bones to set up a med file for him too. Pisaster Tremulus--Spock’s approximation of a designation based on Peebles’s pheromone diet--gets filed under Jim. Bones starts to worry that he might need a veterinary license. 

The crew tours Peebles around the ship enough that he learns to navigate it on his own without more door mishaps. Turns out that he doesn’t need a human guide, but he prefers it. He seems to like being up high. 

His love for being up high seems to peak with Bones, who he’s imprinted on for some reason. Bones can’t go a minute without little chirps or clicks from some corner of his office It’s better than peeling him out of a doorframe, wailing a little too much like a human child. Bones has gotten used to tentacles gripping needily on his back.

Like now, for example, when Peebles has decided that his shoulder is the only place he can sit while Bones finalizes paperwork for the crew’s physicals. Everyone but Jim is done. Saving the best for last, he thinks wryly. Peebles chirps at him, then whines.

“Hey, lil fella.” Bones reaches up and gives Peebles a fond scritch. When he goes to pull his hand away, Peebles latches on and pulls it back—like a cat, demanding to be pet. Bones chuckles and obliges with one hand, but he calls Jim with the other. 

“Jim, did you feed your son today?” 

“Why?”

“He’s beeping at me.” Bones tries to pull away. Peebles does not allow it. 

“I think he just likes ya, Bones.”

“Sure. Your physical is in five. Do not be late.” Bones holds up his file. Jim rolls his eyes. 

“Aye aye, doctor.” 

The line disconnects. Bones collapses into his seat and starts sifting through the files, attempting to make a pass at organizing them. Is this his job? No. Will it drive him up the wall if he doesn’t do it himself? Absolutely.

He gets to the ‘C’s in relative peace, but by the time he hits Chekhov’s file, Peebles gets restless again. He starts shifting and making soft noises, passing feathery-soft fur just past Bones’s ears in maddening patterns. 

Bones shivers. 

The touch returns, more purposeful this time. It occurs to him that Jim did not answer his question earlier. 

“Alright, you little bathmat.” Bones tugs at Peebles. “Off ya hop.”

Peebles does not hop. Instead, he nuzzles into the crook of Bones’s neck. One appendage slaps across his throat, curving just below his Adam’s Apple. The others splay across his collarbones, chest, and back. Were they always that long? No, right…?

A smile pries its way onto his lips. He stifles a chuckle into his fist, but the intrigued chitter at his shoulder does not bode well for him. 

Bones jams his shoulders up to his ears. He reaches up to pry Peebles away again, losing his strength to laughter and caution (alright, he doesn’t want to hurt the little guy, sue him). Peebles seems to take this as an invitation to scuttle under his lab coat. 

Wiggling nubs make contact with his ribcage and Bones’s knees fully give out. He curls up at his desk, muffling his laughter into the surface of it. 

“I’m here early, I want a lollipop—“ 

“Fetch your beast.” Bones looks up from his desk, regrettably smiling, and Jim stops right in his tracks. A mischievous smirk crosses his features. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” Jim crosses his arms and leans against the counter. Bones opens his mouth to chastise him and all that comes out is a squeak. He wants to curse him out, to throw a pen at him, to do anything, but then wiggling touches find the back of his ribcage and he’s toast. 

Peebles is covered in small, tube-like protrusions on one side that are nightmarish to both the eye and skin, apparently. They move gently, independently, like a flock of curious pokes directly to his nervous system.

He writhes like a madman in his chair, torn between hiding his face and defending himself. He reaches for Peebles and the crafty little thing skitters right across his torso. He cackles, burying his face in his hands. 

“Alright, buddy. That’s enough. Let him go.” Jim pulls Peebles off of Bones. The lump of fuzz hangs in his arms like a cat that’s been scruffed before using its limbs to scuttle up Jim’s arms. 

“I forgot you could still do that.” Jim pokes Bones in the ribs with his pen. He jumps and snatches it back. 

“What?”

“Smile.” Jim darts a hand out and squeezes Bones’s thigh. Bones cackles and falls out of his chair. Jim doubles over and wheezes into a hiccuping giggle fit. 

“Laugh it up, you ass. Provoke me before your physical.” Bones cracks his knuckles. Jim stills. 

“Bones, have mercy.” Jim holds his hands out in immediate surrender. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Bones says in a nasal mockery of Jim’s voice. Jim splutters in offense, then laughter as Bones shoves his hands under his arms. Peebles settles on Jim’s stomach and his voice spikes desperately. 

“Oh, look, I’ve got an assistant! On a scale of one to ten, how much do you regret being a little shit?” Bones scratches ruthlessly at Jim’s top rib. Jim clamps his arms down like it’ll help. Like Bones hasn’t done this dance with him for years. 

“T-Two and a half!” Jim giggles violently, more at the narrowing of Bones’s eyes than the dance of his fingers. 

“Hmm, condition could be improved. Don’t worry, I’ll fix that.” Bones grins evilly, his fingers crawling rapidly towards Jim’s back. 

“Bones!”

[diplonimbodocus]

omg i just read your aos lee spock fic and it was SO CUTE!!! if you ever have the time or interest, do you think you could do one with tos spock? maybe with some spirk there ? No pressure ofc!!!

Hello thank you so much!!! Honestly you don't know what that means to me! I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! I have written you another little one featuring our wonderful tos boys, and I want to thank you for the ask because I've never written for these two before and it was a really good experience! Sorry it took so long, I just wanted to have it finished before I answered! Thank you again and love to you <3

Here it is~

"And he was so stubborn - well, you know what he's like - that I just had to do something about it. I lunged for him, and it's been the longest time, but he actually fell to the floor, laughing." Jim chuckled, as the lift slid, whirring sleekly between floors. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, he'd kill me."

"Laughing, captain?" Spock questioned with a straight face, the slightest cock to one eyebrow.

"Really, Spock. I'd bet you can hardly imagine our good doctor cracking a smile, never mind a laugh," Jim grinned, laughing more.

"Why laughing, captain?" Completely glossing over the latter remark, Spock remained curious.

Jim started as if to reply in humour before stopping short and turning to his Vulcan friend with a look of curiosity himself.

"Well - laughing, Spock. He was laughing because I tickled him, that's why."

The eyebrow came back down surprisingly fast.

"Ah yes. That most human of phenomena," Spock said, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Well it's not just human, Spock - all kinds of Earth animals are prone to it. But yes, I'll give you it is a bit unusu-" and at this moment, Jim looked at his friend anew. "Are you telling me Vulcans don't have this?"

"Would you be surprised, captain?" Spock answered, eyes on the elevator floor.

"Yes, I suppose not..." Jim looked pensive, and then the doors opened.

The two men walked along the corridor, eventually coming to the captain's quarters. The doors whisked open to let them enter.

Once inside, Kirk paced near the small desk area.

"Now Spock, with regards to the last mission, I think we really need to get our reports coherent to each other before we submit to Starfleet."

"Agreed. I can give you a detailed overview-"

Jim suddenly interrupted. "I'm sorry Spock, I just - is there really no tickling on Vulcan? Not even the children?"

Spock thought for a moment before he answered. "It is... abnormal."

"A-HA! So there is ticklishness in vulcans then?"

"... somewhat, yes."

"So it's the children? And you, what - grow out of it?"

"Vulcan children are born much like human children - they have many of the same traits. However we are raised and trained very differently. We learn to process all physical sensations, logically, from a very young age. Most parents, as I'm sure will be obvious, do not indulge in the practice. It is, illogical."

Jim's face fell. But then, "most parents?" He looked up with a glint in his eye. "What about yours?"

Spock locked eyes with his captain, one eyebrow cocked in a way that gave Jim a distinct feeling that he was in some way being defied.

"I had a vulcan father, and a human mother. My parents were not 'most parents.'"

"So you have experienced it! Something in that really - well - really tickles me, I have to say!" Jim's face gleamed as he laughed.

Spock stood uncomfortably quiet, seeming to deliberate.

"Cheer up, Spock, I won't keep pestering you. At least you've grown out of it!"

Jim clapped his friend on the arm jovially, but the vulcan continued to focus thoughtfully at a point on the ground, as if thinking about something.

And then the penny dropped. Vulcans cannot lie.

"Or have you?"

Spock must have heard the change in the captain's voice, as his eyes bounced up to meet Jim's with a deep and guarded look.

"Are you ticklish, Spock?" Jim grinned.

"Decline to answer," Spock replied.

"Don't pinch me - that's an order, Mr. Spock."

"Do you intend to abuse your power as captain of this vessel, undoubtedly loosing your rank and career in Starfleet, simply to test your hypothesis, captain?"

"If that's what it takes to get you laughing, Mr. Spock."

This game of cat and mouse continued, the two taking a waltz of slow and careful steps around the room, ever just out of reach of one another.

Jim's face was enthused and predatory, a look often seen when faced with a challenge. Spock's was unreadable, his feeling unknowable, save only for the fact that he could easily have called everything off had he really wanted to.

Jim, sensing his chance, lunged. Spock, as always, had reflexes finely-trained, and jumped backwards to dodge the grasping fist, however Jim, anticipating this, went in after with a second arm. He caught a fistfull of his regulation uniform in his fingers, and yanked the taller man firmly towards himself.

Caught off guard, Spock stumbled forward, right into his captain's open-armed grasp. There was a beat in which Spock did nothing.

"We're about to find out if you really are still ticklish, Mr. Spock," Jim said, and clawed at his friend's stomach.

Immediately Spock went stiff, stood upright and then crashed backwards onto his ass, looking dazed. He curled around the fingers currently trying to tear into his soft front flesh, twisting a little this way and then that way with each wiggle of the digits.

Jim could not keep the smile from his face. Spock was squirming! He continued pinching at the first officer's stomach as well as throwing some in sporadically to the sides.

Spock had begun to shudder, his eyes clamped shut with the ghost of a smile tugging there and at his lips. Just when matters couldn't get worse, Jim suddenly used both hands to attack.

"Hahah!" Spock let slip a surprised laugh.

Everything stopped, and Jim took a moment to stare at his friend in wonder and delight, before saying carefully, "Spock?"

Spock remained unmoved from his position, eyes shut, body curled and statue-still, a half-smile still visible. He seemed unwilling to comment.

"Not got anything to say?"

Nothing.

"Oh..." Jim said, though his tone was still playful. "I guess not. Suppose you'd rather do something else instead? Like this!"

Jim dug in again with new vigour, this time pinching all along Spock's sides, and the vulcan was on the floor, turning from side to side with the widest smile imaginable, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Oh come on, Spock! Where's that laughter? I know you have it in you," Jim teased, grinning all the while.

Spock suddenly shook his head, the first he'd responded to any of this.

"No? You're not gonna let me hear it?" Jim took little pinches at his tummy again.

Spock shook his head again, convulsing.

"That's too bad. Guess I'll just have to continue."

By now Jim was straddling his first officer, using gentle pinches all over his upper body, but when he kneaded his fingertips into his lowest ribs, Spock practically leapt off the ground, and finally Jim found that laughter.

"C-captahahain!" He pleaded.

"Bad spot, Spock?"

"Ahah ahah hahahahaha!"

"I'm going to take that for a yes," Jim smiled triumphantly, kneading in even deeper, and Spock was beside himself. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spock's hands had come down to wrap firmly around Jim's wrists, but so far had done nothing else.

"Remember your orders, officer," Jim put on his captain's voice through the hilarity.

At this, Spock seemed to deflate, arms and shoulders going limp as his hands loosened their grip and fell away. 

"I'm impressed, Mr. Spock! But let's see how long you can hold out doing that."

Jim kept massaging those low ribs with his thumbs, using the other fingers to scratch at the sides, catching other ribs higher up. Spock acted as if electrocuted, his spasms unable to save him from the ticklish onslaught. His laughter had started deep but was getting higher.

Suddenly, Jims fingertips were moving down, exploring that expanse of waist that had come exposed during the struggling. His short nails scratched against the flat plain and Spock hit the roof.

"Hahaha!! N-no, captahahain!!" He bucked, only really succeeding in throwing himself further into the attack.

"Oh? Is it particularly bad here?" Jim grinned, giving it an extra good scratch, Spock pushing into it and shaking his head simultaneously.

"S-skihihin! Skihihin!!"

Jim looked down, and for the first time considered the skin-to-skin contact.

"Do you want me to stop?" He withdrew immediately, worried he might have gone too far.

Spock heaved some breaths, unable to engage right away. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked directly into Jim's gaze. He looked there for a time, unreadable, and then, unbelievably, cocked an eyebrow and said, "captain, don't presume to think you have broken me. I assure you, it would take much more than anything you could provide to do so."

Jim's mouth fell open as he grasped for a response, but he quickly recovered enough to beam back at his first officer.

"You said, "no, stop", your words!"

"A reflex reaction, and unfortunate," replied Spock, as if he hadn't just a moment ago been completely undone.

Jim stammered, dumbfounded. "And what's all this about skin? I don't understand you."

"Ah. That. I..." And finally Spock was showing some shyness. "It opens a slight telepathic connection."

Jim beamed with the dawning realisation. "Ahhh, I see... And that makes it worse?"

Spock said nothing for a moment, and Jim now noticed the slightest of greenish colouration in his cheeks.

"I'm afraid nothing could be worse than your attempts to get more than a surface-level, knee-jerk reaction from me."

"My attempts?" Jim asked delicately, whether curious or offended, it was hard to tell. "Are you telling me my tickles didn't tickle enough?"

Spock simply tilted his head as if to agree, and that said it all. "I believe the earth-phrase says, 'if the shoe fits'."

Jim snapped his mouth shut and switched to his captain face.

"Where was that spot again... Oh, here," and he locked eyes with Spock as he touched his fingers onto the bare skin. "You'll regret that, Spock, I promise you. Can you feel what I'm thinking? Can you see it?"

Spock said nothing, but the nervous look behind his eyes, the green in his cheeks and the tension like electricity radiating through his skin let Jim know the message was getting through.

"Are you ready to give me some more of those wonderful reflex reactions?"

Laughter filled the room once more as Jim got to work, undoing his vulcan.

[trooly-ticklish]

Adorable man gets wrecked by fluffy partner, more at 11.

Eheh… 😵‍💫

Thank you for the template, @smolknismofox! 💙

[thesockdrawersblog]

ok HI I LOVE YOU ART SO MUCH ITS SO CUTE. may i request some of kirk teasing spock ? i feel like his ears would be ticklish,,, it would be cute to me. TO ME. im so sorry Im insane

I know this is more silly but I just HAD too-

Imagine what Jim is saying cuz I had no idea what he’d say-

[eldar-of-zemlya]

Based on @zerozerozio's prompt:

Could you draw something cute where Jim teases Spock or gives him a little kiss on the ear? I've always had this idea that Spock's ears might be ticklish, so it could be a nice way for Jim to make him smile.

So there you have it! 😁

[smilingangel582]

Proceeded to right another windbreaker and unlike most of yall. I still have not moved on from windbreaker.

Nooo I miss it too much

It's has a bit of suo x sakura fluff and mild swearing and definitely a bit of ahem... subtle stuff like yaoi. But not a lot, guys... nothing sus... just words... also... cute tickles!

If you are not interested in tickles and innocent gentle touching, then skip pls thank u!

Summary: Suo has made an early trip to Sakura's place (for some certain reason) before the rest of the gang. Suo teases and calls Sakura childish... Sakura's not having any of that.

Warning Spoilers for Windbreaker season 1 and anime keel arc, but mainly the anime

Childish

"Sakura-kun, when's the last time you cut your hair?" Suo Hayato murmurs softly now caressing the slightly longer cowlicks on his white coloured side, the two tones split unevenly but beautifully.

Seeing how he casually reached to touch him, Sakura instinctively jolts back, fists raised defensively to punch him, "H-hey quit touching me... and why the hell are you here?"

"Uwe?" Suo feigning confusion as he looks around 'here' as in Sakura's empty house. Suo gives a sweet smile, "Well... we did put a text saying we're coming by to play uno... didn't we?"

"You did?" Sakura's arms lowered now. He fumbled for his phone and takes his sweet time checking and noticed the message and Suo grins, "Ah so now it's read..."

Sakura's face blossomed red, "Y-yeah well I purposefully uh..." rummaged his brain for the right word, "Golstered you!"

Suo blinks, "Golster...?" Realization dawned to him, "Ohhh Sakura-kun, do you mean 'ghosted'? Haha, " he bursts into airy light laughter, making Sakura turn even more red.

"Ahah sorry sorry," he wipes a dry tear, "Where did you learn that word? Haha from Nirei?"

Sakura folds his arms. Pouting a little like a kid, "W-Well, it's from Kiryu... he did teach me things about uh using a smartphone"

To think Sakura is finally talking to others outside from Nirei and himself. Suo's heart elevated at that. So endearing...

"Kurita taught me about using uh... stickers..." he mumbled that shyly, "Then uh Takanashi recommended a good... um brand for perfume... its good..."

"I'm glad you're learning... honestly, it's kind of cute... like a child. " Suo pats his head gently, half mockingly and half proudly.

"Gah! Dont patronise me!" Sakura snapped, pushing his hand away, "I'm not cute!"

"But you are... adorable, " he paused to lean forward, booping his nose, "So childish... and it makes me feel like a proud parent"

Sakura grumbled, his lower lip tilting down trying to look away, "Damn u... who are you calling childish?"

"You?" Suo pokes his ribs, making him jolt now, hissing like a kitten, "Quit teasing me punk!"

"Why?" Once again, Suo pokes him a bit to the lower ribs, making Sakura stumble backwards and this gives the latter the chance to tickle his sides forcefully.

"Gah! Haha oi! Stop it! Cuhuhut ihihit out!" Arms hugging his sided as Suo's delicate fingers tormented his ribs.

"Well, childish people are pretty ticklish, Sakura kun..." Suo points out, "you are still fifteen so technically your a child"

"I AM NOT!" Sakura snaps but arched his back with a squeal when Suo sneaks his fingers under the hem of his shirt, grazing his bare waist.

"AH! AHA time out! TIHIME OUT!"

Suo pauses fingers, still touching his bare skin, "So Sakura kun? What do u think? Are you a child?"

"Noo!" Sakura growled, "But I hold grudges!" He tackles Suo now beginning to retaliate.

"Aha! Sakura-kun w-wahahait not mehe" Suo giggles tumbled freely compared to Sakura's yelping and small squeaky giggles, his was airy and light, making Sakura mesmerised.

He smirked, somewhat motivated to try this new concept called 'tickling'.

"Ha! Can't take what you dish? Who's childish no?"

"Ahaha Sakura-kun ahaha" he does sound like he's enjoying. Sakura gets distracted when he felts something sharply electrifying over his navel, light finger skittering sneakily making Jim double over on top of Suo.

"G-gah! Hehe, oi baka!"

Suo let's a snicker now, "Uh oh I found a sensitive spot... you shouldn't have got me back Sakura-kun"

The felt skittering fingers over his belly quite torturous. Suo is incredible merciless. Sakura slowly buckled yo the side, giggling and gasping.

"Ngn! S-Suo! Shit yohohou ahahasshole!"

Suo grins, now managing to catch his breath, further attacking that spot. Hoping to safe from being caught in the receiving end.

Sakura's will power is still amazing. Suo gasps in subtle shock as Sakura pushes himself again on top of Suo and manages to grab both his wrists towards his chest. Suo for the first time stares up at his eyes... taken aback by the beautiful Blush on his cheeks, long white and black lashes tear stained... his breath suddenly hitched when...

"Take that!" Sakura snaps, tickling Suo's neck, which made him jump.

This didn't go according to his plan.

Sure Suo did allow Sakura to tickle him back for him to actually get the upper hand and unintentionally charm him and then get his worst spot was uncalled for.

"Eeyaha!" Suo, let's a shocked strained squeak. Now scrunching his shoulders up protectively, even his wrists were pinned. Sakura still managed to discover a pretty vulnerable spot.

"I will get u back Suo Hayato!" Sakura gritted his teeth, his eyes determined and serious almost causing Suo to forget the current ticklish plight.

"Ahaha Sakura-kun y-yohou gohot me!"

"Nope not until you say uh... whats the word" Sakura thinks "was it aunt... nephew? Idk..."

Suo genuinely laughed at that, and squeaked and giggled as he tried to talk, manahing to free his wrists, "Ahaha Sakura-kun y-yoohoohou mean uncle hahaha thahahahats sohohoho adoohohorable ehehehe whehehen yohohohou sahahahaid thahahat!"

Sakura blushed, "Y-you-!"

"Ah! Nirei-kun your already back?"

Sakura turns back, now fulling ready to keep his composure and cool.

"I-I was trying to... huh?"

Nobody was behind... just an empty door still closed. Before his cat instincts could warn him...

A slow steady finger slid up his spine making him jolt and stagger away but the villain caught him in his arms. He messed up... Big-big time.

"Sakura-kun?" Suo whisperedt at his ear making him shiver and squirm, "Need I remind you that no one gets away with tickling me..."

"S-Suo -eya!" Sakura yelps when Suo trips him on his back. He felt a grip on his ankle and panics. "W-Whooa, whoa! Hold on! No...!"

Suo Hums, suddenly dark and playfully eerie, he lightly rubbed the toes, now warming up and keeping Sakura in anxious giggly jitters.

"If you weren't my friend... I would've broken your fingers but since you're my dear friend... I like to torment these piggies as a punishment..."

Sakura clenched his fists, uncertain what he meant by pigs... u till he felt scribbles from the first toe making him squeal.

"Ever played the game this little piggy?"

"Noo nooohoo, stop it's ehehehembarassing!" He giggles, feeling the childish teasing more impactful than the tickling.

"Cute..." Suo unfazed swiftly sang, 'This little piggy' enjoying the obnoxious Yelps and squeaks he tried to hide desperately from Suo.

"Who's a child now Sakura-kun."

"AAHAHA SHIT NOT THERE!" When Suo spider tickles his stomach.

"You seem particularly sensitive here... but more there..." Suo Hums casually, sweetly taking his time swirling his finger over his belly button making Sakura squeal.

"Gyaahaha! OOHOHOK! YOU WIN! HAHAHA PLS! PLS! PLEAAHAHASE!"

"Eh? Suo-san? Sakura-san? What's going on?"

Suo swiftly takes a position cross-legged on the ground smiling brightly, "Oh I was teaching Sakura-kun how to act more mature... he's so childish.

"D-damn you!" Sakura gasps but unable to get up as he was tired and fatigued. Kiriyu grins now smiling, "Ehh? Was that cute girl squeal Sakura-kun? No way..."

"Even I thought Sakura-kun brought a girl?" Tsugeura says seriously, genuinely considering that option. Suo laughs now, "Wow, Sakura-kun..."

Sakura grumbled, now fully red, "bastards! Ugh! Fucking hell I will get yall," he specifically eyed Suo now Narrowing his eyes, "You! Watch it!"

"Hmm, hmm, Sakura-kun is even cuter when he's getting serious..."

Kiriyu giggled, "Haiii! Sakura-chan kawaiii!" He suddenly tackled Sakura to tickle his sides making the latter shriek in surprised laughter.

Tsugeura joins in with the heat, and Nirei just looked, somewhat conflicted and confused while Suo watched the spectacle with amusement -sipping his tea (when the hell did he do that?)

It was a lively day in Makochi

[tickletastic]

Intergalactic Slime Whiskey

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Ship: Hints of Spirk

Summary: Intergalactic whiskey will never taste like Earth whiskey. Jim knows that, and Bones certainly knows that.

A/N: to the anon that requested Star Trek or Top Gun <3

“Jim, it would be illogical to allow Doctor McCoy to chase us for any longer,” Spock says, hand in Jim’s as he lags ever so slightly behind him. “I do believe that Doctor McCoy will reach us eventually.”

“You don’t understand, Spock,” Jim says, panting as he continues to run, Bones hot on their trail, “I finished his Earth whiskey, his whiskey from Earth.” 

“Captain, whiskey can be ordered or acquired from any of the neighbouring planets,” Spock says, slowing down. Of course Jim slows to accompany him, of course he does. 

“You don’t get it, Spock. That stuff is aged on Earth with Earth wood. Bones hates the taste of whiskey aged with the artificial stuff,” Jim explains, noticing Bones to be getting closer and closer as they run through the hallways of The Enterprise, “we won’t be back on Earth for another year, Spock.”

“I believe that humans would say you are ‘screwed,’ Captain,” Spock comes to a complete stop, and of course, Jim stops too. He’d say it’s to protect Spock from Bones’ wrath, but of course, it’s not that simple.

There’s only a mere five seconds between them stopping and Jim being potato-sacked over Bones’ shoulder, unsure if his punishment will happen in his quarters or Bones’, but then again, they’re kind of the same at this point in their friendship. 

As he’s carried away, batting at Bones’ back for hopes of mercy, he sees the cute, lopsided smile on Spock’s face, looks into his knowing eyes. “Spock, you traitor!”

Jim spends the entire two minute journey trying to make Bones as uncomfortable as possible, squirming, pleading, and throwing his fists against his best friend’s back. Nearly the moment the door to Bones’ quarters opens, he’s being thrown onto the couch, landing with a punched-out ‘oof’. 

“Bohones nohoho, c’mon!” Jim pleads, putting his hands up in between the two of them as Bones straddles his hips. 

“I’m not even touchin’ ya, kid,” Bones says fondly, reaching a hand up to ruffle Jim’s hair. 

“Stop! Juhust let me go! Ihihi’m sorry!” Jim reasons, shaking his head to dismount Bones’ hand. 

“No way, kid,” Bones feigns a frown, “that Earth whiskey ain’t goin’ to make up for itself, I’ll have to drink that intergalactic slime shit for the next year because of you.”

“Ihihi’m sorry! I’ll request we go back to Earth early!”

“I’d never let you jeopardise a mission, Jim, especially the first five-year expedition in Fleet history,” Bones sighs, “but I would let you suffer for it.”

“Bohones NOHOHOHO!” Bones’ hands finally go to work, latching onto Jim’s hips, going in for the kill as soon as he starts.

“No- I- Ple-“ Jim tries to get something, anything out, but he’s overtaken by his own hearty laughter, his entire body shaking as he starts to burn pink to his ears. 

Bones can’t help but laugh along, shaking his head at Jim’s adorable reactions, “you did something pretty bad, kid. I ought to just stay here the entire time.”

Jim’s eyes shoot open, shaking his head urgently, “IHIHIHI’D DIHIHIE!” 

“Well, then tell me where to go, Jim.” Bones smirks as Jim goes impossibly more red, a sheepish expression on his face. 

“AHAHAHANAYWHERE EHEHEHELSE!” 

“Not an answer,” Bones says, drilling in. 

Jim shrieks, arching his back but only making the tickling worse as a result. “AHAHA- I- TUHUHUMMY!”

“Better,“ Bones chuckles, hands going up to Jim’s tummy. His tickling becomes incredibly soft, spidering over Jim’s stomach in the way he usually likes when he’s trying to sleep. Now, however, the soft tickling is a thousand times more flustering than it is peaceful. He giggles like a child, his head back and his nose scrunched.

“Nohoho!” He hiccups, trying to bat away Bones’ hands. 

“Ready for another spot, kid?” Bones asks, pushing Jim’s hand away. 

“Plehehease stohohop!” Jim cries.

“Alright, neck it is then.” 

Jim positively screams when Bones scratches at his collarbones, trying to put his head down but only succeeding in trapping Bones’ fingers. He hiccups, snorts, and begs, but none of it is enough to stop Bones. 

“I CAHAHAN’T I CAHAHAHAN’T!” Jim screams, kicking out and hands going everywhere. 

“Alright, alright, kid. You’re too damn cute and too damn ticklish for your own good.” Bones’ hands slow down, going back up to Jim’s hair to scratch his head, dismounting Jim to put his head in Bones’ lap.

“Ihihi-“ Jim starts, opening his eyes, “I ahaham sorry, Bohohones, reheheally. I thohohought it was the stuhuhuff from the last planet, I shohohould’ve read the label.” 

“No worries, Jim. It’s just liquor,” Bone says, his hand wandering slightly and nicking Jim’s ear, causing an adorable snort from the blonde, “I’ll drink the gross stuff with you, but you’re buying me a bottle when we get back next year.”

“Would that make me an enabler?” Jim says, stray giggles still flowing as his eyes slowly shut. 

“Oh hush, go to sleep, you damn infant.” 

Jim giggles, and within minutes he’s asleep in his best friend’s lap, head pushing closer to Bones’ hand on his head even in his slumber. 

[kourtniwritesagain]

Bones and Jim have a code - if one of them is lying on the couch and whatnot and has their arms raised it’s free for all type of tickles. Do with that what you will /N

Jim was on the couch, arms hanging over the arm behind him. He wasn't necessarily in a foul mood, but he wasn't necessarily in a good mood either. He'd had a couple of shitty meetings the last few days, and he was questioning his capacity to lead. He knew Bones was going to come in shortly and that all it would take is one look at Jim, and Jim would be thoroughly distracted.

As if he'd heard Jim's thoughts, Bones walked in.

Dr. Leonard McCoy took two steps into the room before stopping. His eyes locked onto Jim's form.

"Alright, then." Was all Bones said before he stretched his neck from side and side and cracked his knuckles.

Jim had zero preamble as Bones got to work, immediately honing in on Jim's underarms. Jim tried to slam his arms down, he couldn't help it, but Bones simply grabbed his wrists with one hand and switched between his underarms with his other.

"Bohohones!" Jim was outright laughing, unable to contain it.

"Jim."

It was a simple reply, as if Bones was simply acknowledging Jim's existence and not tickling him to pieces.

Jim's laughter went up as Bones released his arms and used both hands to play Jim's ribs like a piano. Jim tried to curl in on himself, but he couldn't because Bones decided that Jim's lap was a great place to sit.

"Plehehease!"

Bones said nothing as he moved to Jim's stomach, tickling the soft spot right underneath his bellybutton. Bones dug his thumbs into the divots of Jim's hips next, which caused Jim to buck up like a jackrabbit.

"Hold still, ya damn infant."

Jim had tears in his eyes at this point, but he never asked Bones to stop. This was their code. They both loved being tickled and tickling. Being on the couch with arms up meant, 'I want to be tickled until I don't know my own name.'

Jim was close to that point.

Bones switched back and forth between Jim's hips and that soft spot on his stomach for two minutes straight. Jim finally screeched "Stahahap!" And Bones pulled his hands back and stood, smirking at the mess that was Captain James T. Kirk.

"Wanna talk about it?" Bones asked five minutes later while Jim sipped on some much needed water. "You know I'll kick anyone's ass that needs it."

Jim grinned. "Sure, Bones. It's why I keep you around."

Bones rolled his eyes, but have Jim his full attention.

Jim loved no one more than Dr. Leonard McCoy.

[who-dat-homeless]

Okay sibs there's an almost 2k wip that I will never finish because I suddenly felt like I don't like the idea at all and I really really don't want to finish it. But I guess I can put it here bc it's not bad for a wip imo Dunno how you usually put wips so.

Spock accidently experiencing death whilst in a mind meld with a dying creature

For lack of a better metaphor it feels like a fourth degree burn.

Not in a sense of a great pain, more like in a sense of a great loss of any sensation. Layer after layer losing any ability to feel anything at all, be it an agonizing pain or a soft touch of a spring breeze. 

What’s even worse – he’s vulcan. Oh how he prides himself upon being one, but with pride goes its coast – he’s too well aware of what’s happening in his body. He can shut off any pain, he can stop impulses from running up his brain to disturb his precious mind, he meditates, he knows over a dozen breathing techniques, he can pinpoint a source of pain down to millimeters. 

And now he feels how senses in his body die. One after another. He feels as all five layers of epidermis from stratum corneum down to stratum basale all one after another lose their functions, lose their sensitivity. It is painful, of course it is, but more than painful it’s frightening. He’s not in control. He can’t stop it. He can’t even take another breath to hold himself together. He screams. His mind is a mess but a little part, the smallest little patch of logic, stoicism and everything he likes to call *vulcan* feels ashamed of such a pathetic show of pain. He must control himself.

Even though it’s impossible.

He’s dying.

There’s nothing to control. Only to accept. 

Even though he can’t. He has no right to accept it. 

He’s on duty. He’s a valuable officer. And he must protect himself. 

Pain worsens with every second and he can’t feel his legs, he can’t feel his forearms, his head cracks and big sweat droplets run down the neck. So ticklish. Such a strange sensation amidst the pain.

He’s dying surprisingly fast but not fast enough to relieve him of this pain. He must fight back, he must survive, but how? How?.. His mind is not his own anymore, his mind is suppressed by fear and pain and it doesn’t seem to rebel in the nearest future.

It’s not even cold. He thought it would be cold, how many times he heard about how cold death is, how many times he touched a corpse only to find it considerably cold, but now neither cold nor warm. It's an absolute nothing and he can't comprehend it. The small part of his brain, the one that fears, the one that bare teeth as a stupid display of happiness, the one that screeches and slither around like an ancient reptile, the one he calls *human* screams and tries to take another breath.

It’s useless.

There’s no need for oxygen for a dead brain. 

Vulcan shuts his mouth – he must not show any fear or any pain. If he must die he must die in a vulcan way – with dignity and cold certainty of what is awaiting for him.

Human bares his teeth – he must survive at any cost. He must try until he runs out of breath. If he must scream – he will. if he must roll in dust – he will. If he must cry – he will. The horror of non-existence is incomprehensible so he must live. In agony, in pain, filled with fire, filled with cold, but he must live.

But then he dies.

And there’s nothing he can do.

***

– Spock!

He can’t stop shaking him even though he knows it’s useless. The creature died while Spock was still in the mindmeld with it and now his eyes are rolled backwards and he inhales and inhales but he can’t exhale. If nothing is done soon enough Spock will just suffocate. 

Kirk stops shaking him, puts him back on the ground and lightly slaps his cheeks. No response. He clenches his teeth and withdraws his arm to slap Spock across his face when Bones finally comes and grabs his hand midst air. 

– Jim, for god’s sake, snap out of it! Step back.

It takes Kirk two seconds, no more, to blink and process what's been said to him. He gets on his feet and lets McCoy work. For a moment in the darkness of this enormous cave shines the metall of an ampul. Second later a quiet sound of injection, so loud in the cold silence, died down. Kirk didn’t feel an ounce of relief. He's been friends with McCoy long enough to know that no injection, no pill or mixture is a total cure for all. Especially now, when Spock isn’t even hurt, not actually, not physically. McCoy can help when it's a physical injury. But when it’s mental…

Spock finally takes a long inhale and loudly exhales, all the muscles in his body loosens and for a moment it seems like he’s going to be okay.

McCoy leans back. He takes Spock’s wrist, adjusts his hands and then…

And then he furrows his brows. Kirk remains quiet but he already knows – Bones will find no pulse at the wrist. Nor at the neck. Nor at any other point. Yet still he’s silent. He’s not a medic after all, just some stupid little captain with a professional deformation called “Hope for the best, expect the worst”.

McCoy tries to find a pulse at the wrist but at some point his hand races to the neck. Same deal. Seconds past. Kirk flexes his jaw. He’s useless now. He tries not to think about it.

McCoy's face flashes fear and he leans on the Spock’s chest. His mouth agape. He licks his lips waiting for anything. The scariest part is anticipation. He waits for anything – for him to respond, for him to not respond, for literally anything.

McCoy’s eyes racing – ancient brain tries to find the source of the sound he’s looking for, not understanding that it’s hidden beneath meat and bones. Kirk clenches his fists, nails sinks into the flesh. He wants this pain to distract him but his eyes ache from how much he focuses on Spock’s lifeless figure. 

Moments passes by.

A single droplet of unknown liquid drips from the cave’s ceiling.

Kirk bites his lower lip.

And then McCoy takes a sudden loud breath, squints his eyes and sits straight.

– I swear to god, – he whispered on the exhale, – one day I’ll kill him with my bare hands…

– Bones-

– He’s alive, okay? It’s just that his heart decided it would be oh so funny to slow his pulse to the point it almost doesn't exist and call it a day.

– But it’s… bad, isn’t it?

– For humans – yes. For vulcans – a regular self-preservation measure. He’ll be fine.

Finally Kirk’s tensed shoulders drop. He lets out a tired exhale.

– Would it be dangerous for him if I “transport” him myself or should we wait for a gurney?

– There’s no physical injury as far as I can tell so you can get him up. Besides I don’t want to spend another minute in these caves, not only can we be killed any other minute but it smells absolutely horrendous in here.

Kirk paid no attention to the remark. Right now, the moment they speak, dozens of Enterprise personnel beamed up injured from caves collapse and creature’s assault. Actually it’s better than the operation on the Janus IV. But only in the matter that almost no one died. But injured… Kirk knows McCoy already thinks how to arrange people – sickbay of Enterprise is spacious by comparison to other ship’s but at the end of the day it can accommodate oh so many people. And then he has to decide and decide quickly – who can wait for help and who needs it right away, what injuries he has to inspect himself and what he can delegate to nurses. 

McCoy is on edge and it does no justice to his temper.

Kirk knows to ignore it.

He steps closer to Spock, squats, takes Spock’s one hand and in one swift motion get’s him on his own back. Spock is much taller than Kirk and weighs accordingly, it takes Kirk a second time to stand up. It still fascinates him that the unconscious body seems to weigh more. He tries to entertain himself with such a silly lil thought rather than thinking about how his friend is lying on his shoulders unconsiouse because he just quite literally experienced death in all of its glory.

– Can we beam up from here? 

McCoy got the empty ampule and was ready to go.

– No, we gotta return to the station. For some reason the ship can’t get to us down here.

– Oh mother of-, McCoy started but quickly aborted, – Okay, let’s waste no time I have a job to do.

– Get your phaser ready. Don't hesitate to use it.

– Is it of any use?

Kirk stares at him. He gives McCoy a little smile. 

– Get your phaser ready. 

McCoy wants to shout at him, Kirk can tell from just one look at him, but he draws his phaser and doesn't ask any further questions. 

Of course phasers are useless there, but what else could've Kirk said? Of course McCoy would've appreciated it if Kirk just finally admitted that they're helpless in this situation, but how could he admit it when his whole career is based on him looking confident enough for people to not get into a state of maddening panic every time something goes wrong? Of course Kirk himself would've like to show this little pathetic, yet still very human, fear – his first officer is out for good, almost third of his personnel injured, almost third of miners is dead, they all being chased by unknown creature that still showed no sign of being injured or at least tired –but he's not a human, not on duty, he's the symbol, the beacon, people look for him for guidance, more than guidance, they look at him for reassurance. He's a glacier, he's stoic, he keeps on smiling in a dire situation. He can't just say “it's useless”. He's the last hope for people around him. If captain James T. Kirk still smiles, it means it's not that bad. They'll figure it out somehow. They'll be fine. 

They start to walk. McCoy paranoingnly turns on each sudden sound he hears and the only thing Kirk can do in this situation is to pray to whoever listens that this little walk be uneventful. McCoy is a healer, he's more than useless with a phaser. 

Creatures lure in the dark seeking revenge for a killed brother but are too scared of the barbaric humans to come closer. Kirk is scared. Not in a typical sense, not like usual people are. Sometimes he feels like his gland in charge of fear atrophied long ago – you can’t be scared in the middle of operation, you can be either before it or after, never in the midst – and instead there's a mechanic substituted in its place.

“Hey, Jamey, don't want to bother but this shting is pretty shpooky to me and if I were you(which I'm obviously not) I would've been pretty damn scared. But you're your own man, I mean, do what you think is right, I'm by no means telling you how to act. So, here's your adrenalin, cortisol, lactic acid and some other chems, you know what to do with them  too-da-loo~”

And this one silly thought keeps him focused. Imagining your own fear as a friendly machine that just does things it's programmed to, as a separate from you entity, makes it easier to manage. He's not his fear, and suddenly he can think logically, and suddenly his mind is in control.

Spock's tunic brushes against his cheek. Ticklish. Such a strange sensation amidst the chaos. 

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Hey, so, I've been contemplating this idea for a while, and I'm aware other people thought of this. But Bucky in a USO Chorus Girl outfit.

I imagine he'd be in the middle of a card game with Steve and their other comrades. Bucky's winning, he's getting cocky, so he makes a bet.

"If I lose, I have to wear one of them pretty outfits the showgirls wear."

Lo and behold, he loses. He's pissed about it. But he goes through with the bet.

And Steve?

Steve can't take his eyes off of Bucky for the life of him. But Bucky's being so whiny and pouty about it, acting like a brat.

So, Steve takes it upon himself to "fix" Bucky's attitude.

I was wondering if you have any thoughts on this? Or have you answered an ask similar to this before?

Oh my God, I love this idea. I've heard lots of ideas bouncing around in the stucky fandom after She Hulk, but never one exactly like this thought!

The thought of it being a lost bet is *chef's kiss*

I'm not currently taking prompts, but... what the hell, I only have a few days before I go back to college, I might as well spend my last little bit of this break by thinking of Bucky in a skirt...

Immediately, when you sent this prompt in, I was imagining Bucky with his arms crossed and a stormy look on his face. His lips are set in a straight line, and his brows furrowed; he's not pissed about being made to dress up in the skimpy outfit meant for one of the dancing dames that Steve twinkled over to this side of the war front with, he's fucking pissed that he lost. He was winning! And he woulda fuckin' won if Monty hadn't--

"You gonna give us a twirl, lady spangles?" Jim howls at him, grinning like a madman.

The wolf whistles of the other Howlies quickly join his words, overpowering them. Monty even sticks his fingers into his mouth to whistle extra loud--being, as usual, extra obnoxious. Just because he can.

"No," Bucky huffs, "that's not gonna happen," shifting where he stands, crossing his arms tighter and only letting his lip curl up slightly. He can feel the gauzy tulle fluffing the skirt swishing against his skin. Vaguely itchy and ticklish. He didn't put on the stockings to complete the outfit, but he kind of wishes that he did now. The sensation would be less distracting with another layer, at least. Probably. He's never worn stockings. Maybe they’d be even more distracting. Yet... he'd also be warmer with tights. Warmer if he hadn't fuckin’ lost and weren't wearing this sleeveless, low plunging, flag-blue top, revealing his decolletage and more. He's so cold his nipples are poking through the thin fabric. And the high waist joining the top and skirt is tight, pressing into him every time he takes a (hopefully) slow, calming breath. He feels not only cold but exposed, too.

Small mercies, at least, his hands were too big for any of the white, shiny gloves to be wearable. He can't get them over his fists. The same goes for the shoes. None of the dames have the same size feet as Bucky does. Saves him some of his dignity. Just some. He won't fall flat on his face in any tiny, shiny heels tonight.

"Aw, c'mon, girlie," they laugh, a fuckin’ peanut gallery, all of ‘em.

"Fuck you," Bucky rolls his eyes hugely.

Bucky would like to go back to approximately twenty minutes ago when they were congregated around a flipped over apple box on the dirty, dusty floor of Steve's private Captain's tent with flickering lamp light and hazy cigarette smoke hanging over them, laid back as much as they could when on the front. Now, standing alone and just barely inside the shut tent entrance makes Bucky feel like he's the game. He might not be as competitive as Steve fucking is, but he doesn't like this outcome. Not at all. He grumbles to himself some more.

"Aw, don't say that." Someone teases.

“Yeah, don't beat yourself up, honey!” Another of the guys piles on.

“Mm-hm. You're so pretty. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"Shake it, baby!"

A few other sarcastic replies and catcalls meet his blunt unenjoyment of this lost bet. Bucky feels himself slowly turning red. His Ma taught him better than to ogle at ladies. Apparently, none of these animals got that message, though. That, or, they don't care about ogling about a man in a lady's things.

"How long do I have to stand here and be drooled over? You fuckers miss your gals that much?" Bucky uncrosses his arms, fisting the hem of the skirt, pulling it down. Does this really cover any of Steve's dancers? He had to roll his skivvies up so they didn't hang out from under the skirt. "Am I done?"

"Just a little longer, twinkles. You haven't paid your dues just yet."

“Yeah, and you won't ‘til you give us a twirl!”

Laughter bounces among them.

Bucky flips them off. But, he does stand there until they get bored of him. The only thing he hates more than losing is not holding to his word. He made a bet. It wasn't a smart bet--even if he's pretty sure Monty cheated just to pull his leg (probably conspiring with the others)--but whatever.

Bucky doesn't realize until the Howlies are shuffling out of the tent, slapping Bucky on the shoulder or ass as they leave, saluting him and drawling, “goodnight, ma’am,” “night, dolly,” and “you come here often, how come I’ve not seen you here before, baby,” among other things before disappearing into the darkness that's swallowed the camp whole... Steve hasn't said anything. But it hits him over the back of the head, the realization, once they're alone in his oversized tent. Steve is a little shit. He never has enough self-control to resist piling on, ragging Bucky harder than anyone else can get away with. Yet...

He hasn't done anything.

And come to think of it, as Bucky ties the canvas tent flaps shut, their men all gone, he can feel Steve's eyes on him. They're intense. Normally, Bucky gets a sense for if his gaze is hungry and burning or worried or whatever. He's not sure what this is. But he knows he's looking.

What can Bucky do but turn around?

Bucky catches his blue eyes ripping up, ashamed, from the bottom hem of his ruffled skirt.

And... they're eye to eye now, a scant few feet separating them. Silent, for the moment. Though, it never takes long for Steve to open his big mouth.

Steve licks his lips, “you--” he clears his throat, a false start, “you sure you don't wanna give it just one twirl?”

Bucky groans, rolling his eyes so hard that he just might pull something. “No,” he grinds his right heel into the gritty floor, “I wanna get outta this fuckin’ thing. I'm done.” And he is. So done. He lost, he made a bet, he got his, he doesn't need more.

He’s so done that he reaches up behind his shoulder, grasping blindly for the zip at the nap of his neck, feeling for the cold metal. He brushes over it a few times but can't quite get a solid hold on it. Wiggling, Bucky tries his best to get it. He can't.

He huffs, dramatic but feeling very deserved, “Steeve.”

“Hmm?” Steve is looking right at him, but he sounds the same way he always does when he's distracted by something else. As if he's stuck in a drawing, and Bucky is pestering him by asking him to do the dishes or launder their sheets.

Bucky’s jaw clenches, “unzip me.”

“Y-yeah,” Steve licks his lips again.

Damn, he's gonna give himself chapped lips. Actually, can he even get chapped lips now? With the serum? Shaking his head, not staying stuck on the thought, Bucky steps forward, turning around when he's in front of Steve and waiting for him to--

Suddenly, Steve's big hands are on his waist, causing him to jump--spooked 'cause he was expecting to feel him at the nape of his neck, slowly taking the zipper of his dress down, leaving him even more exposed to the chill of the night air. His hands are fucking huge. Dinner-plate-sized paws, he swears it. Feeling them around his waist catches Bucky off-guard. They're warm, too. He burns like a furnace now. That's just as unfamiliar.

“Steve--” Bucky starts to complain, the edge of an exasperated whine in his voice.

“Buck,” Steve's thumbs are drawing back and forth over the thin, silky material of his waistband. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. The heat from his big, huge fucking mitts and his thick, broad chest as he steps in closer bleed into Bucky. They're not even touching yet, but he's not cold anymore. The gauzy tulle squishes up against the back of his legs. Itchy.

“Get me out of this thing, I swear, Steve I'll--” Bucky is cut off, gasping, when Steve digs his fingers into his hips and tugs him back against him at the same time. His strength is literally breathtaking.

His lips, hot, are against the shell of his ear, the rasp of his stubble--already coming in even though he cleaned up this afternoon, shaving by the river out back from camp--against his hair, catching, make Bucky's blood turn thicker, “you really hate this that much, Buck?” His voice is low, barely a whisper. Bucky can still hear it. He can feel it. Breathed hot and humid against him.

“Yes,” the word is out of his mouth before he can think twice.

“Hmm, that's a shame,” Steve husks, “I think you should keep it. It suits you.”

That night from the bar flashes through Bucky, scoffing, he struggles fruitlessly against Steve's hold on his hip, “is this just payback for what I said, you can’t keep me lik--”

It turns out Steve can still hold him in place with just one hand. An arm around his waist, the thick, hard muscle pressing into his body. His other hand is busy covering his mouth.

Oh.

“Who’d’a thought all it'd take to put some fight in you is putting you in a little skirt, huh?” Steve chuckles, “coulda done that back home an’ maybe you woulda won more at Y.” He pats Bucky's face, his hand still over his mouth, unmoving like the fucker he is. Too strong for his own good.

Still, Bucky struggles more. Grumbling and debating if it’s worth it to bite his hand, he doubts licking it would make a difference. Struggling if not to get away and punch Steve in his shoulder for being a dick than just to feel him flex--his forearm, bicep, and his chest, so close. Pressed up against him.

Steve, ever an asshole, just laughs more. He doesn’t go anyway, smiling into his hair, “aw, c'mon, don’t be sore at me, the guys were tellin’ the truth, you don't look bad at all, Buck. It suits you.”

“Mmm-mnh!” Bucky complains against his hand, muffled.

“It really suits you…” Steve murmurs, repeating himself as his other hand releases his waist and smooths up his bare thigh, moving up under the skirt. His eyes, oppositely, drag down his body. His gaze boring right into him.

Bucky can't speak because of Steve's hand, but he still trips over his own tongue, choking and feeling heat rise high on his cheeks. It climbs to his ears. Steve is groping him. Squeezing his thighs. Ruffling the tulle. It swishes around his body, rubbing up on him just as much as Steve is.

“You gonna quit bitchin’ if I let you go?”

Bucky thinks about shaking his head, he still wants out of this damn thing, but the gesture turns into a nod without his permission and when Steve, true to his word, stops cupping his wide palm over his mouth, not a sound comes out of him until--

“Ohh,” the moan spills out of Bucky's buzzing lips, dripping in shock and heat all because one of Steve's big hands is on his waist again, touching the soft, silky fabric--petting him almost--and the other has flipped up his skirt and dived under his skivvies to get a whole, huge handful of his ass. Squeezing him filthily. Grabbing him like he wants to take a chunk out of him.

Also with the poofy skirt pushed up and out of the way, Bucky can feel the hot line of Steve's cock against him.

Jesus.

He likes it. He really likes it. He really likes him in this tiny, little getup. They've only just gotten alone, and he immediately had to jump him, and--

“Good boy,” Steve's voice is just a hot and just as close as his dick, pressed into his neck. Humid, dripping with arousal.

His voice is enough of a reward for Bucky, but Steve is generous. He adds to it. Letting his hand travel from his waist up his front, heavily dragging over his hip and stomach and chest until he gets to his nipple. They're still hard. Aching points on his chest. Needing to be touched.

“Nnngh,” another unintentional sound comes out of him when Steve thumbs his left nipple, sending a skittering spark down to his dick and pushing the shirt up.

Steve coos at him, the low hum rumbling through his chest and into Bucky, and Bucky… Bucky is washed away with another wave of heat, flushed heat to toe, and melting back onto Steve's chest. He doesn't budge. A fuckin’ brick wall. All muscle. God.

“That's it,” Steve encourages him, two thick fingers grazing his tight hole between his cheeks, making him shiver bonelessly, “see? That wasn't so hard. Just be good. Lemme look at you.”

Bucky’s so distracted that he doesn't even snip at Steve for doing much more than looking at him. He quivers, head to toe, without a single coherent thought in his head. "Steve," he pleads.

"Jus' lemme look," he reiterates, his voice a delicious purr and his hands dangerous paws, hitting him exactly where it counts.