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wordstrings · 3 years ago

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Charm Lesson

Prompted for Critical Role: Vox Machina – "I'd love to see ler Vax, lee Taryon. Maybe someone is insecure and needs a giggle from his roguish friend?"

Words: 1,900

(Publishing today in honor of TickleTober day 12: Stuck.)

—

“Now, see, you’ve almost got it,” Vax encourages. His eyes track the figure making their way hastily to the tavern door. “That was… so close.”

Taryon thumps his elbows on the table and rubs his hands over his face with a lamenting sigh. “Don’t patronize me,” he says. “That was awful. I’m awful.”

“...It was pretty awful, yeah.” Vax takes another sip of his wine, hums around it and gulps it down. “But listen, you’re on the right path. We just need to get you focused on what the other person wants to hear, rather than what you want to hear about yourself.”

“But don’t they want to hear about me? How else will they decide that I’m– I’m…” He sighs again, and finishes quietly, “Worth it.”

Vax slings an arm around his shoulders. “Hey. You are worth it. We all decided that, didn’t we? The whole group of us. You’re part of Vox Machina now.”

A hesitant smile hints on Taryon’s lips. “Yes, I suppose you did. But still, that’s not the same as–”

“Being desirable?” Vax cuts in. He sits back, thumbing the edge of his cup as his eyes wander – mostly teasing, but not entirely disinterested if he’s honest with himself – over Taryon’s form. He says after a moment, “Could stand a haircut, but that’s just me.”

“Hey! My hair is my glory–”

Vax waves a hand. “It’s all floppy–”

“Bouncy.”

“–and gets helmet-head–”

“Like your windblown rat’s nest is any better,” Taryon sniffs.

“–and it’s– hey now. Rule number one, don’t insult the one you’re trying to impress, dumbass.”

Taryon slaps at Vax’s reproving finger jabbing at his shoulder. One less cup of wine and he’d probably have succeeded, Vax presumes; as it is, he tips a little too far backwards on the bench and flails for balance before Vax catches his arm. Taryon grunts in annoyance.

“Didn’t know I was practicing on you next.”

“No, I’m the counsel here, not the target.” Vax takes both Taryon’s upper arms and sets him upright. An idea comes to him. “But yeah, let’s try a more controlled scenario. Hey, Perce,” he calls over his shoulder.

Taryon begins to flush. “Wait, don’t–”

But the bespectacled object of Taryon’s quiet little infatuation is already approaching the table, his own drink in hand. “Yes?”

“Have a seat,” Vax offers. “We need you for a moment.”

“No, we don’t,” Taryon says quickly. “I don’t. I, ah…”

Percy sits down and sips his drink with one brow raised curiously while the two of them have a quiet battle of hissed words and batting hands. It ends with Vax pressed up behind Taryon on the bench, firm hands gripping his shoulders to keep him facing Percy.

“Now,” Vax says, leaning in to coach at Taryon’s ear, “you’ve invited him to join you and he’s graciously accepted. What’s the first thing you’ll say to pique his attention?”

A look of realization comes over Percy’s face. With a coloring of amusement, he says, “Oh, this ought to be fun.” Bless him for being game.

“I… um…” Taryon stammers. “H-have you heard of the Darrington name?”

“Wrong.” Vax gives him a little shake. “Try again.”

“I’ve… I’ve slain beholders and rakshasas, but I’d love to add you to my list of accomplishments–”

“No, no, and no,” Vax sighs, while Percy hides his mouth behind a fist. “New rule number two: your first sentence cannot use the word ‘I.’”

“But…!”

Percy interrupts, “If I may – perhaps we reverse it for a moment. Let’s say I’ve just invited you to sit. Now…” He clears his throat and settles himself into character, tilts his shoulder slightly toward Taryon in an interested lean. He holds his cup in front of his lips for an extended moment while his gaze explores Taryon’s flushing face.

“I don’t mean to stare,” he says, as his timbre falls to a low, intimate level between them, “but the gems in your armor set off your eyes handsomely. And I’ve seen your companion there.” Percy gestures his cup gently toward the corner, where the automaton Doty stands vigilant. “He seems quite loyal. Did you animate him yourself?”

Taryon opens his mouth with a small, pitched sound that doesn’t quite make a word as Percy holds eye contact and slowly takes a sip.

Vax gives the moment a chance to resolve… but it doesn’t, so he pokes at the back of Taryon’s neck. “This is the part where you answer.”

Taryon squeaks and hunches his shoulders, which – hmm – bears noting. He turns his head to glare, but Vax sets a palm on his cheek and turns him back toward his conversation partner.

“I, uh,” Taryon stammers. “I did. I built him, too, you know, which requires incredible skill that few possess–”

He breaks off with another squeak when Vax pinches his side. Yes, this method will do nicely. Like spritzing a wayward cat.

“No bragging,” Vax advises.

Taryon groans miserably. “This makes no sense. And why am I even trying to take advice from you? I’ve never seen you pick up anyone.”

“Because I’m taken, fartface.”

Percy, unwavering from his chosen role, ignores their exchange and leans forward eagerly. “You built him? Oh, you must tell me more about that. What was that process even like?”

Taryon tenses in anticipation before he even begins. “Um. I. I’m very good at– ehee!”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Percy says, while Vax keeps his fingers pressed on Taryon’s sides behind the open edges of his breastplate.

Taryon turns again to look imploringly over his shoulder. There’s a glint of dismay in his eyes, which Vax might read as please don’t embarrass me in front of my crush like the lovable idiot I am. But, oh dear, Vax seems to have misplaced his reading comprehension. What a shame. He’s sure he’ll find it in the morning.

He worms his fingers two inches further under the plate. “The attractive man asked you a question, potential suitor.”

Taryon chokes on a sound.

“Tell you what,” Percy declares, slapping the table. “How about I go and get us another drink, and then you can ravish me with tales of your brilliance.”

Taryon goes utterly still. Vax is quite sure the young man has short-circuited like his automaton, until he sees Percy pause in pushing himself up from the table. The charmingly rare de Rolo smile holds for a beat, then slips a little into something more foxlike.

“Oh,” Percy observes. He sinks back into his seat, eyes sharp behind the round lenses of his spectacles. “But, perhaps,” he purrs, “you’d prefer me to ravish you. Is that it?”

Honestly, Vax almost feels bad for the kid – almost. But there’s still no response coming from him, and that just won’t do.

“Do you not know how to speak apart from boasting?” Vax asks at the shell of Taryon’s ear, and begins tickling in earnest beneath the breastplate edges.

In a delightful twist on Vax’s expectations, Taryon doesn’t just yelp; he crumbles with a ringing laugh as golden as his armor. He folds over his own lap with arms clamping uselessly over the plate. Vax hugs tight to his back, having no qualms about curling over him to keep a close grip on the spots that appear dreadfully ticklish – especially when Vax scribbles like so, or squeezes just there. Oh yes, this is fun.

“Stoppit, stoppit,” Taryon chokes out. “Don’t tickle, oh god please, aa-ahah!”

Vax shows a sporting bit of mercy, mostly for the sake of pulling out one hand so he can wrap it across Taryon’s chest and lever him upright again.

“So you can speak. Go on, then.” Vax keeps his remaining set of fingers rippling slowly into that soft flesh that’s never seen a day of hunger. Taryon wriggles against him, halfway breathless with half-formed pleas and half-swallowed giggles.

“I ca– I can’t– I, hee…”

“Well, that’s adorable,” says Percy, who then downs the last of his cup and smoothly slides forward on the bench. To Taryon’s palpable distress, he only stops once their knees are touching and Percy’s face is mere inches from his.

“Something you may not yet know about me,” Percy says secretively, “is that when something so very interesting presents itself, I can’t help but poke at it. As a fellow tinkerer, I’m sure you understand. And when I recognize a susceptibility to be pressed… well. As someone accustomed to money, you must understand that, too. So do forgive me, but…”

Percy’s hand rises between them and alights on Taryon’s jaw with a soft, lifting touch. The rest of Taryon’s body, pressing back against Vax’s chest, continues to squirm in response to the gently unrepentant tickle crawling under his armor, but his head stills in a moment of spellbound suspension. His breathing is so shallow Vax is certain he’ll stop altogether.

Then Percy’s fingertips skitter under his chin, and Taryon crumples into a squeaking laugh that sets both Vax and Percy chuckling.

They block him in, hind and front, and by unspoken agreement begin delightedly tickling him senseless.

Vax quickly concurs with Percy’s judgement of adorable. Taryon loses every ounce of bluster and defensiveness when tickled, becoming a squishy ball of rich giggles. Vax imagines it must be quite the warring feeling for one’s puppy love to be both witness and participant in such a stripping. Though it can’t be too terrible, curling helplessly into a lap that has likely been the setting of much fantasy.

No, Vax doesn’t feel bad in the slightest.

He keeps to his territory of Taryon’s flanks while Percy more thoroughly explores the neck and ears. The golden helmet that normally protects them sits serenely on the table, glinting in the chandelier torchlight, perfectly useless just now. There’s something there, some lesson Vax cannot bother synthesizing for his chosen charge; something about being pretty yet unpurposed, capable yet untapped. Maybe it’ll come together after the wine has worked its way out of their systems.

Percy must discover an interesting spot, because he suddenly says, “Oh, right there?”

Vax can hear it, then: the sucking, wheezing inhales that are growing in volume the longer Percy persists at wherever-the-spot-is. The noise is somewhat reminiscent of a donkey, or– no, a zebra. How fantastic. Vax laughs, too, and god it’s all such a reprieve from the long-accumulated tension of… well, everything.

He revels a moment longer before catching Percy’s eye and nodding them both off. Percy takes half a scoot back in order to reach his cup, and Vax would be fairly confident in saying he looks just as gratified as Vax feels.

“Alright, alright,” Vax murmurs, as he’s left holding Taryon around the middle to keep him from liquefying straight onto the floor. “Over now. You’re okay. C’mon, sit up. There you go.”

“I dare say, if you do that,” Percy says, gesturing vaguely at the gold and pink disarray that is Taryon, “you’ll endear yourself to just about anybody. Keep up the good work.”

Taryon mewls some abashed little sound and swivels to bury his face in his arms on the table.

Vax nods as he reclaims his drink. “Mhmm. This is progress.” He rubs a reassuring hand over Taryon’s back a few times before clapping his shoulder. “We’ll just have to keep practicing.”

#Critical Role #Vox Machina #tickletober2021 #sfwtickletober2021 #tickle fic #Taryon Darrington #Vax'ildan #Percival de Rolo #ticklish!Taryon #ler!Vax #ler!Percy #tickling #stringswork #Charm Lesson

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wordstrings · 3 years ago

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Ohh, I love, I love!

tickletober day 31/nope: tickle monster

this one's a birthday gift for @wordstrings and also a long overdue fill for this prompt! it's as much of a guess at characterization as i could cobble together from a supercut and a few clips, but i hope you enjoy, you wonderful person 💛

---

Something’s wrong with his face.

Well, not really - Percy has it on good authority that his face is quite fetching, in certain circumstances, even with the nearsightedness-

The point being. Vex’s hand is on his cheek, and lovely as she is, it's also quite distracting.

“You’re not listening at all, are you?”

He blinks. Something about it is unpleasantly sticky. “What?”

“Percy, darling.” She’s leaning between him and his soldering iron now - bad, very bad, these people know nothing about tool safety - with her eyebrows raised in a way that never signals well for his dignity in the following minutes. “You’ve been down here for far too long - why don’t you come take a walk with me? Trinket misses you terribly, you know.”

He makes an attempt at nudging her out of his field of vision with his shoulder, spine twitching in sharp disapproval after a few hours of piecing together the minute details of his current project. “Does he?”

Vex grins, just visible in the blurry corner of his vision where his glasses don’t quite reach. It’s almost worth the terrible burns he’s certainly going to get from not being able to see what he’s doing. “I’m sure he’s going to give you a big wet kiss the moment he sees you.”

He heaves a put-upon sigh just to stretch her smile an inch wider, and - oh, she’s got him thoroughly distracted now, hasn’t she. Clever. And annoying.

Luckily, he’s not entirely unarmed at the moment. “Vex,” he starts. “You like it when I make you things, don’t you?”

The entire line of her body shifts - lovely, he can see his hands again. “This is for me?”

Ha. “Yes, so for the love of gods don’t make me fuck it up, all right?” He can’t quite help smirking as he pushes a little further. “Especially at this stage, which will be quite expensive to redo if something goes wrong.”

A complete lie, but not one she’ll know to spot - worth it, for some peace and quiet to finish the blasted thing. He’s fairly sure his aching spine will survive the night.

“Oh.” Vex’s fingers twitch, light and lithe against his jawbone. She’s contemplating. Good. “That’s - well, that’s not fair, now I hardly want to drag you out of here.”

He twitches a somewhat conciliatory grin in her direction. “Don’t worry, your greed is very endearing.”

He can’t see her face anymore, but he can feel the wince even as she laughs. “Oh, fuck off - you need rest, Percy. I’m supposed to look out for you, aren’t I?”

“Well, seeing as I’m not currently possessed-”

Vex sniffs pointedly. “There is a lot of smoke in here.”

He huffs. “I’ll find a good stopping point in an hour or two… maybe...”

There’s a frustrated sound from somewhere above his head, and Vex’s hand drops to the back of his neck. “Bad luck for you that I’ve brought help, then.”

Percy barely hears it, already half sunk back into the repetitive process of melting solder and pressing metal into place - but she pulls his head up, just a little, and-

“Hello, Percival.”

He freezes, a sharp reprimand on his lips, just in time to watch Vax melt from the shadows with a grin entirely too chilling to be pointed at anyone he isn’t trying to kill.

Though, judging from the way he’s flipping a dagger lazily in one hand, maybe death isn’t out of the question. It’s - it’s a lot, now that he’s distracted enough to feel every single ache of a day and a half of tinkering, but he makes the attempt to match that sharpness with some of his own. “Do the two of you really not have anything better to be doing?”

Vax shrugs, smooth and utterly unhurried, and advances. “Oh, normally I’d be quite happy to let you two handle yourselves, but you’re being a dick to my sister and today-”

His eyes gleam with a distinctly predatory look that Percy can’t quite keep himself from twitching away from. “Oh, today - today, I know a secret.”

He and Vex recoil in shocked unison - and oh, if she doesn’t know, that’s so much worse. “A-” Percy hedges, wondering if he can perhaps make a break for the door. “A secret?”

Vax reaches the other side of his workbench, reaching out to pluck the soldering iron from Percy’s hand as he leans in - thankfully he’s got enough sense not to grab it by the smoking end. “Would you like to know what it is?”

Percy’s shoulder hit the back of his chair. His chair hits Vex, boxing him in from behind. Fuck. “Will it matter if I say no?”

Vax - chuckles, low and throaty, his fingers on Percy’s wrist. He feels like a prey animal.

Vex clears her throat overhead. “Come on, Scrawny, please don’t make me watch you flirt.”

Her twin’s grin doesn’t waver one bit. Percy’s running out of danger signals for this situation. “I ran into Pike on my way down here,” Vax starts casually. His middle finger pokes out past his others, another swinging out in front to take a few mincing steps up Percy’s arm. “And, when I told her where I was headed-”

He leans impossibly closer, beaming up for the barest instant over Percy’s head before bearing back down on him. “She told me that, on the very predictable occasion of you being difficult-”

The combination of Pike and difficult and Vax’s extremely poor attempt at capturing their cleric’s saintly brand of frustration triggers a very unfortunate memory. Percy’s eyes widen. “Oh, no.”

He tries to tug his arm away, but it remains pinned with a grip of steel as Vax’s spidering fingers and betrayal press mercilessly on. “Oh, yes. Our dear Pickle told me that someone might be susceptible to a little convincing from the tickle monster-”

He’s not quite sure what happens next, really.

There’s a shout that’s certainly too high pitched to be coming from him, and - he’s trapped in his chair in one moment, and in the next he’s across his workspace, panting as his head whips frantically between a deviously smirking Vex and her evil, terrible brother collapsed into near hysterics on a nearby chair.

“Oh,” Vax squeaks out, “oh, your face, Freddy - Vex, get on his other side, now we have to tickle him-”

Percy looks despairingly at the jars of acids and many, many gently steaming pieces of metal currently strewn across the room. “No,” he insists. “Someone’s going to get hurt, this is undignified - Vax, I can see you, don’t you dare -”

His heart skips a beat as Vax regains his composure and rolls upright with that same teasing grin, starting to round the tables towards him. “You’d better run, Freddy,” he sings. “The tickle monster’s coming!”

He doesn’t have it in him at the moment to be embarrassed of the giddy terror that springs into being high in his chest. “Vex - Vex, darling,” he pleads, backing up until he can keep them both in eyesight, “let’s be reasonable here-”

She’s grinning too, rounding the room in the opposite direction. He sprints for the door.

Two figures lunge in his periphery. He yelps, grabbing blindly for the door handle, as two thin arms wrap around his shoulders - a feather tickles his neck, coaxing a frantic giggling hiccup from his throat - it’s Vex, he’s stronger than Vex, he can get free of her as long as-

Cold hands claw at the back of his shirt, prying their way underneath and around to his sides. “No,” he gasps, fighting back the laughter bubbling in his lungs - it squirms into his muscles instead, turning his arms to jelly. “No, no!-”

A roguish grin weasels its way against his ear. “Got you~”

He makes one last desperate attempt at escape, but the first ghosting touch against the edge of his belly has him thrashing so badly that it’s hardly a struggle for Vex to wrestle him prone on his own workbench. “Hhh - ha! - this - ahhh, hnn - is a violation- oh gohohods-”

“Oh, darling,” Vex purrs, Vax smirking to match beside her, and he thinks he might have to make another deal with a demon to gain any sort of mercy. “You’re listening now, aren’t you?”

“Haahh - yes, yes, just - ahhh!”

Monsters, indeed.

#yes yes all good yes #Critical Role #Vox Machina #Percival de Rolo #Vex’ahlia #Vax’ildan #tickling #ticklish!Percy #author chockfullofsecrets #not mine #tickle fic #ler!Vax #written for me!

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blorbologist · 2 years ago

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perc'ahlia touch prompt 29?

TECHNICALLY not airplane saga bc I just got home, BUT! I'll tag these as airplane saga as I keep workin through them <3

Also thank u @burr-ell for the spark of inspo to treat myself to some fluff after this long ass weekend

29. tickling the other one

It starts as nothing - Vax pokes her in the side as he reaches for the marshmallows, and Vex shrieks. And it’s a little difficult for Percy to not notice, really, when she jumps clear off the folding chair and laughs like cricketsong.

“Vax, you fuck!” she giggles, half-crouched over her flank, her hotdog-adorned poker waving around to protect it.

And perhaps Percy does not get in on the betting with Scanlan and Keyleth as the twins have at eachother, stick clashing with warmed metal to hiss and snap in the air between them, the smoke dancing around their gleeful violence. Perhaps he does not take the time to explain to Tary that this is what normal siblings do, you poor thing, or assure Keyleth that no this is absolutely not safe and no, that is exactly why he will not be intervening.

In the end it’s Vex that disarms her brother - obviously, she was wielding smoldering mystery meat and a hot poker. She stabs her weapon into the dirt and gets to tickling Vax with a vengeance, until he shrieks just as shrill as she had and wiggles a touch too close to the fire in his attempts to escape. Grog pries them apart, then. Trinket makes off with Vex’s mangled sausage.

A lot happens, around that dying bonfire - to the point the swordfighting twins is only a footnote.

Korrin had needed to burn brush and old oaks that had fallen over the winter - thus, the first damp day of early summer Keyleth had gathered them all with the offer of booze, s'mores and sausages to help get the pile together, watch it burn bright and devastating, and then enjoy its glowing ruin.

So Grog had almost single-handedly forced a leaning dead pine to kneel - Keyleth’s antler circlet had gotten stuck in some low-hanging branches - Tary had tried to prove he could, in fact, climb a tree, and to everyone’s surprise he did actually figure it out, only to need help getting back down.

It’s definitely a fun morning of chores, a lazy afternoon shooting the shit, and a cozy evening, now, around the bed of embers broken by that pine’s seething remains.

That little swordfight sticks (lovely pun) out to Percy.

Well, not so much the display of terrible form his old instructors would bemoan. But the inciting incident.

Vex is ticklish. Outrageously so.

And it seems she’s reminded of this, for the rest of the night. Her eyes dart back and forth whenever someone approaches, however innocently, a gleam of teeth a touch too wild. Like she might bolt into the woods, her path unhindered thanks to their work. She leans, just a touch, to protect her sides, tucks her sawdust-speckled flannel closer and tightens the arms of her denim jacket around her waist.

Percival, it should be noted, grew up with six siblings.

He is very, very good at getting past even the best guard for the sake of a good laugh.

And maybe he’s never heard something quite so delicate from Vex. No, delicate is the wrong word - brutal, instead, in its joy, something she couldn’t hold back if she tried.

(She tries, always, to hold so much back. Even just a little, often, out of habit. He knows - he does it too.)

Percy bides his time.

There’s truth or dare, and an attempt at replicating beerpong with pinecones and the bed of coals, and Vax swipes Percy’s glasses to he and Grog can try to look at minnows in the creek with them (Percy will not give them the excuse of being very inebriated).

Percy has to muck around in the riverrocks and mud for his spectacles, finding them with his feet and emerging soaked. Pike and Vex wolfwhistle - he thanks his adoring audience by wringing out his shirt over their heads before leaving it to dry by the fire.

Okay, maybe he forgets about his little plan from time to time. He brought his whiskey with him - between its silky bite and the beer he’s been mouthing, Percy is maybe not the most sober of the group. That might be Grog, just by virtue of his size - if not him then Tary.

Korrin bid them good night before it was night at all, clearly not wanting to infringe on their fun. Vax drags Keyleth to bed after she leans far enough forward her hair starts to smoke. Scanlan dares Pike to carry him to bed and she’s too plastered to decline the challenge, tossing him into his sleeping bag with a roar before stomping off to her own. Grog and Tary vanish sometime, too. Even Trinket is just about tuckered out, dozing beside the designated seating log (spared of the fire for a cool knot in the trunk).

It takes Percy longer than he would admit to realize it’s just him and Vex left.

To be completely fair, she’s good conversation - it just flows. White water one moment, rapids, rapid and quick-witted, to curl into languid eddies and sandbars another, pooling in silences.

The debate about the state of the film industry had started while they still had company - they might have gone to bed sometime before Vex’s enthusiastic argument for trees potentially having personalities. Or maybe after Percy rattled on about his latest pet project - tried his hand a cuckoo clock, to mixed results so far - and Vex just watched and nodded and leaned and leaned and leaned in to ask her questions, and - and where was he?

It takes him until roughly this point to remember he’d wanted to tickle her.

Unfortunately, she’s bundled up against the encroaching chill you only find in a summertime woodland - a coarse blanket Korrin had tossed them all earlier folded around her as wings.

“Would you mind sharing?” Percy asks. Rubs his hands up and down his arms at Vex’s curious look. “Will catch something at this rate, after my little dip.”

Percy is fairly certain that boozy Percy is the most strikingly brilliant Percy to have ever Percy’d.

Vex snorts, unfurling the blanket to invite him closer. “Poor you,” she teases, dramatically . “You’ll catch your death without me.”

“I’ve certainly caught something,” he says, blithe, and before Vex can do something his hands have snaked around her waist to dance and dance and dance. No foreplay with the silly pokes or threat of tickles - oh no, Percy is going straight for the kill.

And, well, maybe he gets it, because Vex shrieks in his ear and he perhaps regrets most of this when she elbows him on reflex just below the ribs.

“Stubby?” Vax, raising his voice, raspy with sleep and fear. “Is everything alright?”

He doesn’t direct this to Percy, who is objectively the one who is not alright here, clutching his abdomen and leaning his head to Vex’s shoulder as he catches his breath. She’s cackling in victory, the vixen.

“Peachy!” Vex replies, voice a ditty. “Percy’s just being a little shit.”

“I am not,” he huffs. Wheezes, probably, but he would like to maintain his dignity and shall insist it was a huff. “I’m a man of science, and I - I have the hypothesis that you don’t really laugh enough.”

Vex’s brows furrow. “I laugh all the time-”

“Really laugh,” Percy emphasizes. “The sort - you know, no holding -”

- Back, he would have said, except she’s turned the tables on him and is assaulting his flanks. Hells, she’s even bolder and slips a hand under the shirt he borrowed from Vax to tickle the skin there.

Percy yelps, scrabbling to get away even as laughter boils over into a foamy laugh of his own. Vex’s joins in, triumphant, until his wiggling ends up toppling them both over, ass over teakettle, into the leaflitter. Percy takes the opportunity to retaliate, hands soft claws attacking the sliver of skin he finds over her jeans. The muscles jump and Vex cackles harder, rolling into a ball which he pokes apart, which she uses to find an opening and tickle him in turn.

“Forfeit!”

“Fuck no!”

(It does not matter who says which - both swap and repeat the words so often Percy quickly loses track.)

They’re breathless and crusted with leaves and Percy’s sides fucking hurt and so does his face from laughing, and he’s pretty sure Pike’s told them to quiet down twice but he can’t stop and frankly he’s not sure he would if he could, because oh he’s drunk, yes, but he’ll attribute the floating state of his heart to being tipsy tasting Vex’s laugh - so close yet so far.

Huh. Now, when did that happen?

Not sure - sometime before now, when he’s finally got a hold on her, grabbing both her arms - effectively putting an end to their war of attrition.

“Got you-”

- Only, nope, she’s gone - slipped clear of the snare of his arms.

And then she’s back, but shoving him face-first into the mulch, a twig dragging over his glasses.

“Sorry, darling,” Vex says, with both a genuine wince and a sincere satisfaction. “Comfortable down there? I hope you didn’t get a mouthful of gross.”

Percy spits out some crumbled leaf on principle.

“Forfeit?” she repeats, from between his shoulderblades, with one last ghost of her knuckles over his sides. It’s a little hard to laugh, half-crushed into the forest floor, but somehow Vex manages to draw it from Percy all the same.

When he feebly rocks back and forth, trying to get free, Vex adds, lightly, “I could call Trinket over to lick your face. You’re so lucky he’s slept through all this fun so far.”

“Fine,” he snickers. “Fine! Let me up, dear.”

“Hm, nah,” she decides. “I like my prize.”

Something’s happening to his hair. It takes Percy a moment to place the sensation of Vex sprinkling leaves and bits of fern into his hair like confetti.

“Not the hair,” he groans, thumping his forehead into the ground. The sound is not as satisfying as he would have hoped. “Cruel woman, leave the hair out of it.”

“Only because you ask so nicely,” Vex snarks, and -

Oh.

And she cards her fingers through his hair, combing free her celebratory mischief, and everything takes on an entirely new angle for Percy.

“Vex, darling,” he hums, strains to get the sound out a timber above a growl, “please let me up?”

Percy would bet good money she taps at her lip in playful thought before she responds, “No. I told you, Percival - I like my prize.”

“Ah,” says Percy. “Quite enlightening.”

The dying fire pops, shudders as the remaining logs tumble inward on eachother. Pulled together, pulled down, pulled in. Not melting to the heat but made fallible by it. There’s certainly a second meaning in that pile of embers and coal. Are they anything but embers and coal?

Percy’s certainly a fire of Vex’s making, now - a nice burn to his muscles from their war, a nice burn to his belly from the alcohol, a nice burn to his heart flaring hopeful and flickering at the thought -

Percy swallows. He hears Vex echo it, faintly.

“Darling,” he says, “I could stay down here. But, ah - I would really appreciate the opportunity to look at my captor.”

Just to know. The thought - the possibility - it’s very effective at sobering Percy right up. And he wants to see because if he sees he will know and then he could - he will know.

Vex shrugs, turns the movement into a shift of her hips. It takes some wiggling, and a root digs into Percy’s back, but he’s looking up at her, now. Which is, wow, certainly an improvement. Her braid is in the process of turning into many snakes, a Medusa of their making, sprouting twigs too. There’s a smear of marshmallow on her hand, pinning his chest, and streaks of soot on her forehead where she keeps brushing away her hair.

She’s straddling his hips, which is - it’s just - completely unfair, Vex’ahlia.

It looks like she knows it, which. Well. Still a dirty trick, but one that means something.

“Vex’ahlia? Dear?”

“Hm?” It comes out a little shrill.

“I - hm.” Percy frowns. It feels wrong after smiling so much. “I think I’ve lost all the words I had in mind somewhere in the leaflitter, so. Simple: I am stupidly in love with you, and would love to kiss you right about now.”

Vex laughs - not quite the sort she’s been generous with this evening, drawn forth involuntarily, but a cousin. Buried in the same family lot - sudden and rare and real. No added sugar, no preservatives, plucked straight from the wilds of her heart.

“Ask again.”

Percy blinks, thoroughly confused and suddenly terrified by the forest sprite sitting on - oh gods. “May I kiss you?”

“No,” Vex repeats, a breath breathed a breath away and Percy is going to die, here, of humiliation or torment or both -

Oh.

Ah. Vixen.

No, he could not kiss her - because she would kiss him.

It’s a gods-awful kiss. Practically speaking - Vex’s lips are sticky with marshmallows and Percy’s fairly sure she can taste half the undergrowth on his mouth. The angle is mathematically impossible - surely, if Percy could just do the numbers. His throat is sore from the smoke and everything feels a touch numb from the giggling.

But it’s Vex, and his burned, burning little heart spins every detail into a fairy tale and he can’t help but lean up and in and hope she keeps him as her prize forever, carries him home like a stuffed bear at a fairground. Or, no, she’s not nearly strong enough for her, but has anyone considered the devotion a prize would give its winner?

He’s so fucking in love with her it makes him stupid and for once in his life Percy cannot mind being the fool.

It’s illogical and it’s amazing.

One tiny, innocuous detail:

Percy is, not above all else but above a fair few things, a little shit.

So when he feels Vex smile and lean her weight into him, licking into his mouth, hands sliding into his shirt, he brushes his knuckles to the skin just above her hips.

She laughs, startled, throws her head back so fast she knocks into his nose - comes back in just as quickly to bite his lip in retaliation.

Pairs it with a tickle of her hand against his neck, which - fuck, that’s his weak spot and Percy makes a sound he will refuse forevermore to describe.

And the rest of Vox Machina will struggle to describe, because oh, yes, they’re all in tents not ten feet away.

“What the fuck are you two up to?” Scanlan hollers. “Is it finally happening?”

“What’s finally - nope, nevermind, good fucking night!” Vax wails.

“It’s peachy,” Percy mutters in a silly smack to Vex’s cheek, and she laughs even louder.

#critical role #cr fic #critical role fanfiction #perc'ahlia #percahlia #cr vex #vex'ahlia #percy de rolo #cr percy #ask game #airplane saga #written in one sitting YEEHAW ENJOY this was so much fun #projecting my country kid experience - dad would have us clean parts of the woods every year #my writing

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 3 years ago

Note

Wait wait, how have I not waltzed in here to ask for some of your Gwaine headcanons already 😂

Actually, scratch some, just give me all the ideas you have about him, I’m dying to hear them <3

YES THIS IS WONDERFUL IVE BEEN WORKING ON SOME GWAINE HEADCANONS ALREADY OMG OKAY! THIS WAY IS MUCH MORE FUN (and really just a few because I've come to realise I can work much better with your asks than on my own lol)

also I love how we literally sent each other headcanon asks at the same time :')

- Gwaine is a dog person. This is self explanatory, right? Just imagine him with a dog. I was out with my lovely doggo yesterday and. I just got that thought. And now I can't get it out again and it's so adorable- like if Gwaine were to get any pet it'd be a dog and it just suits him so, so well.

- In a way, it's reaaaally easy to make him blush. If you know how to. If not, then he's quite hard to make blush. It's one of these "he can flirt endlessly, but if you flirt back he'll turn shy" situations with a strange, huge middle ground of both parties shamelessly flirting. It's catching him out of his comfort zone and balancing that knowledge so carefully that you strike at the right moment. It's hard to explain okay </3

- WHATS WAY EASIER TO EXPLAIN: he shivers. so easily. you just have to like. breathe into his ear unexpectedly. tickle him. he's squirmish as fuck. it's funny it's so funny - like think of a grown ass man in a full ass knight outfit being chased by me, a 5'6 woman half his speed with arms stretched out in front of me going "who's ticklish? who's ticklish?" over and over in a baby voice. this is the mental image I've got.

- If his s/o ever got sick, Gwaine would probably be running in circles malfunctioning. he'd be so worried, literally even if it's a cold and they're well able to walk and even manage their daily tasks. if they do as much as sneeze in a radius where he can hear he's by their side in negative two seconds asking what's wrong and how he can help. and if they're really, actually, staying-in-bed sick?? yeah they're not getting up for the next five weeks. I don't think he actually has any idea how to take care of sick people but he'll mill over whole encyclopedias in one night if he thinks there's information in there that could help him.

- Generally he's very overprotective and sweet, of friends and strangers and especially his s/o. I think to some extent all of the Knights are, but Percival and Gwaine are much worse than any of the others. Combined as well, probably. Like Gwaine's not protective in a toxic way, really just in a "I love you and I don't want shit to happen to you even if you're well capable of dealing with said shit. sit back down and let me do this for you" way. It's wholesome. It's also wonderful to take advantage of and I would recommend to 100% do so until he realises himself that he's being too protective and you've been making him do unnecessary stuff because talking him out of it certainly does not work.

- He loves absolutely anything that my bacteria-phobic friend would hate. Like sharing the same glass of water. Eating with the same spoon. Kissing someone else. Wearing the same piece of clothing. Hugs. He's more like me - invading people's personal space all the time, literally constantly needing physical contact but hating all kinds of physical work, slapping his friends as a love language. I love him. He's so like me in some aspects. It's adorable

- He absolutely initiates drinking competitions and then cries if he doesn't win them (but mainly he does. then he brags for a bit before he pukes and does it again. mans doesn't learn from shit)

- He's the most annoying kind of drunk because he only gets more extroverted and he's already so fucking extroverted. Like he just straight up managed to flirt with a girl that was walking by him and then continued to form an amazing friendship with her. Drunk, he has zero filter, he jokes even more, he laughs even more, he's accident prone to a point where it gets ridiculous, he turns into a mind reader for some reason, becomes the most popular person in the room, and proceeds to be much too open with his emotions. Most nights he ends up crying.

- He manages to un-alive boredom. Like it straight up doesn't exist when you're with him. He himself is never bored because the second he could even slightly be, he distracts himself, and he's so full of energy that if you're in a 50m radius of him, you will inevitably channel that energy and be dragged into all of his idiotic ideas. And I'm not saying he can't be calm - he can, he can also be very quiet, but hey, most of the time I'm quiet and my brain's going wild and that's exactly Gwaine.

- He's a straight up dork. If I had to describe Gwaine in one word it would be that. He's a dork and I love it. For once someone who has muscles and unbelievable skills with a sword and is still just a little too dorky to be a jock.

- Definitely has a sweet tooth. He loves food in general but man, if you put sweets in front of him he's eaten them faster than he's able to ask for more afterwards. Always keeps some in his pocket too (mainly melted, no one but him will eat it, which I'm convinced was the plan anyway)

You asked for all I have but I don't think I can give you that, it's so many already and some of them will be too specific, so we'll just leave it at that right now and come back later sometime

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rosesnink · 4 years ago

Text

Your Most Ardent Admirer

Author’s Notes

*This new series I had baking for a very long time took me a lot of research and writer’s block for nearly a year, but here it is!

*This series will treat some sensible themes, such as traumas of the WWI, the misogyny, war itself, etc, so this series will be rated +13 for your sakes.

*All the characters belong to Pixelberry, I only own my OC, June Dante, no one else.

Summary: Ernest Sinclaire finds himself a widower, lonely and hopeless, until he meets this dashing singer that has intrigued him from minute one...

TW: Heavy kissing, adultery

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2310

*Click in the image for better quality!!

London, UK, 1928

The night had fallen in the Guilty Pleasures as Ernest Sinclaire scans the cabaret’s crowd. They’re all laughing, drinking and kissing. Everyone lives their lives as he mourns. He catches Bartholomew Chamber’s shape, with a hand awfully down on a man’s waist. He’s laughing, flirting shamelessly with that man as the other ladies giggle to themselves. Donna Bowman seems to see him and whispers something to Felicity Holloway. He goes toward the bar as he avoids all he can the blonde woman. He finds himself dodging some dancing ladies and waitresses in revealing clothes to catch his eye. But he ignores them all.

He finds a glass of expensive vodka and gulps it as he observes his photo with his now dead wife: Roselyn D’Oleur, a beautiful and delicate French girl who caught his attention when he was just 19. They dated over a year before he proposed to her. She accepted between ‘oohs’ and giggles. They lived happy and had a great dynamic in everything… or that’s what he thought. Then, reality hit him. She’d ask him for money all the time to go shopping and fetch drinks that never came to her since she disappeared all night. Both families pressured them to settle down and start conceiving children, but Roselyn started coming very late at home and that connection was… lost.

One day, after talking late about businesses with Vincent Foredale, he saw Roselyn in a hotel room that had the window open. She was naked and drinking expensive wine. He thought, under his hot collar that it was just ladies’ fun… Until he saw him. The man who had been a role model was there, also naked, taking his own wife in a hotel with the window open. He thought it must be a joke. A nightmare. But fifteen minutes later they were at it again, and he couldn’t stand it. He awaited her until she came home at 6 a.m., her hair a mess and hickeys all over her neck and her dress half zipped.

“How long, Roselyn?” He asked, looking at her with sour pain. “Please, no more lies. I saw you both there. I saw everything.”

She sighed as she played with what seemed like the room’s key “Two years. Ernest, I am so sorry- It was a mistake!”

“You know it’s not true. Is it a mistake that you flirted with him with my ring on your finger, let him touch you, allow him to connect with you for who knows how often and without daring to look to my eyes and tell me the truth? That’s not a mistake, Roselyn. You let it happen and made me look like a fool in front of everyone. I just- What did I do wrong?”

She took a heavy breath “It’s not you, Ernest. You’re a fantastic husband, but- the thing is- I don’t love you. I only wanted your money, Ernest. Not all of us can afford being romantic.”

Those words came to him like a stab on his chest. He felt fooled, hurt and humiliated. This was all about money and reputation. Never love.

“Just- Get out, Roselyn. I need to think. Alone” She reached for him, but he jerked back “Don’t do it. Just… Go.”

The days passed as he processed everything and thought how he’d look at the people once he saw what they probably saw for a while ago. He felt so… he couldn’t even name it.

The days passed until, at midnight, he heard a loud banging at the door. Whoever it was, it was screeching his name and insisting on him to open the door. And he obliged.

Who else than Roselyn was there, crying and grabbing her stomach? He rushed her inside and helped her calm down and talk to him. She cried out in his shoulder that she was pregnant. Pregnant of Tristan Richards. And that she told him, but he repudiated her for a rather young woman who seemed as a payed prostitute.

Her family disowned her, the father wouldn’t talk to her and she was now a fornicator with no feelings.

Even if his reasoning told him to do the same, it was against his nature. His ethics, how he was raised. He took her in, helped her through pregnancy and never left her side.

But things got complicated in childbirth. She lost a lot of blood, she was in pain and very weak. She was too young to bear it. She died, but the child would survive.

She was breathing heavily, holding the babe tight. She looked at him and muttered “Percival… his name is Percival… take care of him…please. It’s-it’s not his fault. Don’t make him pay for my sins,”

He took her hand and kissed it “I will. Little Percival will have everything he needs. I promise.”

She smiled at him weakly and kissed his hand in return as she looked at the crying newborn “Mon bebe… J’et aime.” And with that, she was gone.

And now, back at the present, he awaited his company as his fingers drummed the table. There he was. Renard D’Oleur, Roselyn’s brother. He saluted him and asked “Where’s my nephew?”

“He is outside with the nanny. We’re biding our goodbyes. Will he be alright?”

“I assure you, he will.” He patted his back “If that’s everything…”

“Wait, one more thing. May I… call him monthly? To check on him?”

Renard sighed as he grimaced “He is just one year old and I wouldn’t have to force him compromise with something like that. I’m so sorry, I wish I could do more.”

“Just keep him safe. It’s all I ask of you,”

“He will. We’ll tell him who was his mother.”

And with that, he left with the bundle of joy in his arms, a part of him broken. He turned on his heels to look at him again and commented.

“Anyways, June Dante is giving a show in here today. Chick’s know how to sing and give a show. Relax and let her bewitch you.”

He sighed as he chugged his vodka and shook his head. Last thing he needed was now a show.

He was about to pay the bartender when a feminine voice started singing, her melodical, mermaid-alike voice seemed to caress his skin and he turned on his left, where the singer, who had a short, blonde hair and an elegant flapper dress, red lipstick and elegant high-heeled boots that made her mildly bare legs and dress draw him to her. She smiled as she dropped sensually her fur coat and started singing the chorus

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend

No man can compete against them

I like to wear them without the pressure of being called Mrs.

Making my skin glowing

If I could choose a marriage over this stone of pure blessing

I’d choose elegance over a tying knot

And do not dare to say men are better than these blessed stone

Because ‘tis the glow that will never overshadow moi

His eyes were glued on her, her charming and seductive smile, how her hands and hips moved in a killing, slow way and her eyes connected with his, sending a cold shiver over his spine, his heart racing fast. The song was reaching the end, and there was a moment where she rolled over his seat and caressed his cheek in a ticklish, sensual way, making him shiver and blush furiously. She ended her spectacle dancing in a very revealing way, feeling hot under his collar, his eyes never wandering off hers. Everyone clapped and threw her flowers, money and even personal belongings followed by “I love you’s, marry me and other rather scandalizing ways as she laughed seductively, her voice like velvet in his ear and waved goodbye.

Renard was right, that woman made a most dignifying spectacle, making him want more of her. He drank the rest of his vodka and wandered how a stranger would possibly land her beautiful hazel eyes on him, a simple, modest man. A man tapped his shoulder and whispered to accompany him. He followed the rather intimidating man and trespassed Richards, who was trying to get the singer’s attention.

“Oh, come on! Him of all people?! He’s but a boring widower! You deserve better, June!”

“Miss June awaits you. Be a gentleman,” The man scowled before kicking out Richards at the head of the horde of people.

When he took in the image of June in a fine silk white robe and her hair flawlessly falling on the edges of her jaw and with a rather extended V over her chest and revealing her ankles and part of her flawlessly shaved legs, his heart raced and his pulse quicken as he tried to assimilate that the beauty of June Dante called him. She turned around, her smile perfect and white and her lips still red and her face glowing and heard her regular voice, he felt like speaking with an envoy of the angels.

“So you’re the dashing gentleman! Oh, how rude of me, here, have a drink, darling!” She handed him an elegant flute of fruity white wine and rushed him to a very comfortable sofa and sat in a way that she was leaning on him and her knees were at a 90 angle and her manicured feet were barely seen and her perfectly made nails got close to him.

“What’s your name, handsome?” She traced a shivering line on his hand vein.

“Sinclaire. Ernest Sinclaire” He answered, trying not to shudder.

“Ernest Sinclaire… Hmm, I like your name, Ernest,” She purred as he tried to control the dizziness in his head and how her middle and index finger were tracing his hand and his heart was racing fast like a hummingbird.

“I- Thank you, Miss—,”

“June. Just call me June. We’re in confidence, dear Ernest,”

He had to admit, his name in her lips was like being kissed and caressed of Venus’s touch.

“What brings you to my show tonight, handsome?”

He swallowed as she played with the corners of her dress and answered “I’m a regular since—since my wife’s passing. I just closed some business with her brother”

Her face fell as her hand traced the length of his arm and caressed his jaw “Oh, dear, I am so sorry to hear that such a dashing and intriguing man is alone in this gray town.” She pouted.

“I—That’s much appreciated, Miss—Ahem, June.”

“Come, love, allow me to ease the pain,” She placed his head on her chest, making his skin crawl and his heart was about to get out of his chest as he felt her heartbeats and how she caressed his hair, playing with his curls.

He didn’t know if it was the vodka or some strange substance in the champagne, but he felt so good…

“Thank you, June. You’re a kind woman.”

“Oh, I am not just known for my singing skills, dear Ernest,”.

“I never doubted that, June.”

“How long?” She asked of all sudden.

“I’m sorry?” He asked back, confused.

“How long has your wife been dead?”

He didn’t understand why she asked that but he answered anyways “Like, for a year. Why?”

She didn’t answer. She just grabbed his face and kissed him fervently, all the tension in the ambiance now down. He was at first startled by the sudden action of the woman, but then he kissed her back, returning her fervent kisses and grabbing gently her waist and back, bringing her closer to him. She moaned softly as she grabbed his hair and the back of his neck, laying down the sofa, allowing him to be atop her. Their tongues battled for dominance before she panted, leaving him some liberties and a hand traveled to her lower back, bringing her body closer to her, which she answered by arching towards him. He moaned in pure bliss and delight, not believing such a beauty would be allowing him take such liberties with her. She grabbed his shirt and tried to tug it off, but then he realized one thing: he was quite tipsy, kissing a dashing stranger and in a backstage no less. He broke the kiss and sat again as he gulped, wiping off her lipstick all over his mouth. She looked at him confused and panting, her lips red and itchy of the kissing.

“Why’d you stop? Is something wrong? I thought you liked me!”

He studied carefully his words before placing a hand in her.

“June, you’re a breathtaking, beautiful, interesting and witty woman, but we just met and I’m still grieving my wife. It’s—It’s not the moment. I am not ready for jump out for some new romantic adventure. You deserve so much better, June.”

She nodded as she fished something of her purse and said “It’s alright. I understand. I shall apologize for dragging you to this, it was wrong of me,” She handed him a few cards “My residences in Madrid, the outskirts of London, Paris, New York and Berlin if you want to pen me, either as a friend or whatever you’d like, I’ll be at your disposal despite the distance.”

He grabbed those cards and nodded “That’s kind of you, June. I’ll treasure them,”

She kissed his cheek and sighed “It was memorable to meet you, Ernest. I hope we can see each other again,”

“Me, too,”

With that, he left. All the feelings rushed him inside: he felt happiness, guilt, longing… He shook his head. He just met this woman! Love at first sight was but an old wives’ tale. And he was still grieving Roselyn, he couldn’t just do that so easily. Maybe he couldn’t afford a lover, but it never hurt having a friend who could listen to you and make your day brighter.

Right?

#playchoices fanfiction #desire and decorum #desire and decorum au #ernest sinclaire #ernest x oc #ernest sinclaire x oc #duke richards #tristan richards #roselyn sinclaire #oc: june dante #ernest x june #tw: heavy kissing #tw: adultery #pg-13

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wordstrings · 3 years ago

Text

YEAH okay reblogging this at midnight because it’s still my birthday and hoo boy this is indeed smutty. “Tieflings.” Yes, Percy darling, congrats.

Poly Mighty Machina

For the amazing @wordstrings in this, her birthday! I'm so glad you exist!

Summary: Percy and Vex are drawn in by two gorgeous travelers who show up in Whitestone. Percy agrees to submit to their new friends in the bedroom, but will he survive the tickly predilections of an eager tiefling?

Hey also this is super NSFW so make informed choices! Percieval felt very warm from the wine and the fire. Though the sight of his wife before him, lounging wide-stanced on a sofa in her silks with a buxom blue tiefling straddling her lap, was not helping matters. The woman— who’s name was Jester, how charming— had placed herself there with a coy smile around bitten lips under big eyes. The way her skirts were hiked up around her hips and draped over the base of her tail showed the bottom crescents of a delightfully plump arse. No underwear. How very charming.

Vex’s hands were already sliding up the outsides of Jester’s thighs, clearly as enamoured as Percy was. “Oh! What a darling you are. It’s so rare that fate brings useful strangers through town, much less anyone as sweet as you. Isn’t that right, Percieval?”

Suddenly everyone was looking his way, including Jester with her doe eyes and her companion with his steady gaze. He met both for a split second before responding. “Absolutely correct. We must thank Allura for the introduction.”

That made Jester giggle and flash her fangs at him before leaning forward to whisper into Vex’s ear.

Percy turned his attention to the half-orc before him. Fjord. Muscular and sun-weathered, masculine and plain-spoken. Percy could certainly work with that. The other man looked up from his whisky to set it on the table between them, offering a small smile when he caught the other admiring. Percy glanced pointedly at the scene on the sofa.

“You know, I think my wife is quite taken.”

Fjord chuckled, reaching to take another sip. “Jes has that effect.”

“And what about you?”

“Hmph. Honestly, I tend to get in on her charm.”

“Well, don’t sell yourself short.” Percy reached out, placing one pale hand on Fjord’s collarbone, fingers shifting to lay flat on his skin beneath the collar. Fjord was warm to the touch and leaned into it, face flashing a little bit of relief at Percy’s instigation. “You’re quite charming in your own right. The two of you are… complementary.”

Fjord rose and moved to perch on the table that was formerly between them, leaning in to loom and examine Percy carefully. He flushed a little under the attention. His hand, no longer able to reach Fjord’s shoulder, fell softly to the other man’s knee.

“Is that what you and Lady Vex'ahlia are?” Fjord rumbled, his eyes cast in shadow by the crackling fire. “Complimentary?”

Percy’s mouth was suddenly a little dry. “As in, I come free in the package deal? Certainly.”

The other man shook his head, ignoring the attempt at self-deprecation.

“When did you start thinking this—” he waved his hand vaguely “might happen?”

For a second they both glanced over at the sofa. Vex’s hand had creeped up Jester’s skirts and the tiefling was quivering and giggling in her lap, face nuzzling into Vex’s neck with her tail whipping behind her.

“When I saw the hearts in my wife’s eyes after your girl called a firestorm down on a cornfield full of zombies. And you?”

“Heh.” Fjord reached out, tracing Percy’s jawline with one rough thumb. “Oh, right away. Jester and I have a shared taste for…” his grasp grew a little firmer, pushing Percy’s eyes up to meet his. “delicate intellectuals.”

Percy does choke a little, at the thought that they’d somehow noticed him before Vex. “Ahem. Well. I think you’ll find I’m less delicate than most.”

“I’m glad to hear. Jes isn’t known for her gentleness.”

Percy’s stomach did a flip. “Neither is Vex.” That sentence came out a little rough. He cleared his throat before leaning back into the chair and opening his posture to Fjord. “What about you?”

“Hmm?” Fjord cleared his own throat, distracted.

“Are you gentle?”

“Only if you want me to be.”

“Like I said,” Percy smirked up at him, suddenly feeling very good about the evening ahead, “charming.”

...

They got a little drunk. Percy always had to work a little harder to let go of the prim and proper than Vex did. So he sipped red wine at the table with Fjord, their legs tangled, listening to tales of the high seas. The younger man’s voice was like velvet, and Percy was soon feeling very relaxed, happy to listen actively and enjoy the casual contact. They both let their eyes wander, every once and a while, to the women on the couch, cuddled up with their heads pressed together as they drank and whispered.

His muscles felt like toffee by the time their conversation was interrupted by a pair of soft, cool hands coming from behind to wrap arms around his neck. For a moment he thought it was Vex, but she was in front of him, balancing on the edge of Fjord’s seat with a hand across his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

“Hello.” A sweet voice piped up on a wave of coconut perfume.

“Hello,” he returned, lolling his head to bare his neck to Jester, “have the two of you finished plotting?”

The fact that Fjord didn’t seem to give the word choice a second glance confirmed for Percy that he was right-- their partners were birds of a feather, and they had definitely been plotting. The half orc was smiling and nodding at whatever Vex was saying.

“You know, Lady Vex brags about you a lot.” Jester said as she rested her chin on his shoulder. “Telling me how good and sweet you are… how tough. She says I could do anything I like to you, hm?”

A warm, satisfied shiver tumbled from his hairline to his toes. “Oh, well… I do try.”

“Mmhmm. Of course you do.” One small, clawed set of fingers raked his scalp. “She thinks you can prove it to us, but we’re going to need you to take your clothes off and let us tie you up first. Do you want to do that?” Her voice dropped lower, her lips glancing against his skin in a way that sprouted gooseflesh all over. “Show us how good you are? We can give you such a nice reward after.”

The bluntness of the request added fuel to the tipsy fluish in Percy’s cheeks, but not before a combination of habit and desperate obedience made him rasp “Yes."

“Yay!” Jester cheered softly before licking at his neck.

His mouth was utterly dry now "Should I be nervous?"

"Yes…" Fjord intoned from the other chair.

Jester just giggled. "Why would you be nervous? You don't even have to do anything."

That was a very suspect assertion, but Percy’s brain felt like it was floating in a bubble and he couldn’t quite find the energy to chase the feeling down. Nor the will, with a beautiful woman nibbling on his earlobe while his wife makes hungry eyes at him over the shoulder of a handsome stranger. It was fine. Vex was here. Vex was in charge.

"Oh, yes, alright. Let's get along then."

He started to reach for his collar, but Jester straddled his lap in a flash, hands stroking his neck, chin and hairline. Soft.

"Let me help," she offered, "I like to unwrap my own presents."

He blushed at the little wink she gave him even as he relaxed to let her undo the buttons of his shirt. Her excited little bounce was adorable, even if it made him squirm.

The truth was that the differences in parentage between Vex and Percy were getting more apparent these days. Vex was still Vex, hard as a bowstring and beautiful as the night; But he was getting less lithe and more thin, the brown he'd regained was quickly turning white the old fashioned way. Being the object of desire for two these two adventurers in their prime made his stomach flutter in a way that was... utterly embarrassing.

His hands fell to Jester's thighs as his wife's had, the skin there irresistibly soft beneath the lace of her skirts. Her legs were strong and thick like a vice around his hips.

Jester finished the buttons of his shirt with a frustrated little huff. "Humph! How many layers do you have? Do rich boys have so much money that you need to wear extra clothes just to spend it all?"

"I thought you said you liked the unwrapping, dearest."

"I do. I just like to find skin… better."

Percy's breath caught as she shoved his undershirt up and placed cool lips against his nipple. At first both of her hands were manipulating his clothing, bracing against his shoulders and keeping him pinned against the back of the chair. Then they were under his shirt with her skittering fingers following smooth palms along his sides.

Percy's breath all flew out of him at once, a jolt of panic striking him right in the chest along with the worrying, jumpy feeling of his own ticklish nerves.

"Oh no, tieflings."

He'd meant to say it in his head, but Jester's giggles seemed to imply it had slipped out. She withdrew her hands and her mouth, flashing her fangs at him under a set of smiling crescent-moon eyes.

"Lady Vex, are you sure this is the right husband? He seems pretty scared to me."

"Does he? Well, that's not right." Percy's eyes were squeezed shut in a wince, but he still felt them switch places, Vex's hard athleticism replacing Jester's softer form. Percy jumped at a knock on the door, his eyes snapping open.

"Just the food." Vex soothed. Fjord pulled a cart stacked high with pastries through the door.

"Oh thank goodness, I'm so hungry!" Jester skipped over.

"Now,” Vex said, her voice low, "what's this I hear about you being scared of our sweet little friend."

"Tieflings Vex." He groans.

"Oh no, did you forget?"

He nods, resisting the urge to pout like the spoiled rich kid he once was. She chuckles, running fingers through his hair and placing sympathetic kisses on his cheeks.

"Oh, my poor darling. I already offered you to them like you wanted…" she tossed him a glittering smile that reminded him why she was in charge. Why take responsibility for arranging his own ravishing when his wife would do so with utter glee? "Do you want me to take it back?"

Percy squirmed, even as he shook his head no. He didn't and she knew it. The one other time they'd been with a tiefling had been an ordeal, but a very satisfying one. He just wanted to whine about it a little. Maybe earn more sympathy kisses before their new friends took him apart.

Vex laughed at his predicament and wrapped her arms around his head. He mumbled into her breasts.

"No pointers please."

"Hmm. I think we can negotiate something. What counts as a pointer?"

Percy squirmed. He was too drunk and befuddled to make a good show of this negotiation, and she knew it.

"Any direction regarding placement or technique."

Vex tutted. "That's quite broad, Percieval. What do we get in return?"

"Yes." A warm voice piped up behind them, and if it weren't for Vex sitting in his lap Percy would have jumped a foot in the air. One calloused green hand massaged at his right shoulder, the other gestured with a half-eaten honey cake. "What are we getting in return?"

Percy swallowed. Would keeping Vex quiet even help much? With strangers, maybe. So many of his worst spots were just unusual enough that if he got lucky they wouldn't all be found. He took a deep breath before making his offer.

"Dealer's choice."

Vex made a delighted sound. She looked to Fjord, who'd just finished his cupcake. "That means we would get to pick how he's tied up. Didn’t you say you knew some fun rope tricks?"

"Yes ma'am." Fjord's grin is as bright and dangerous as Jester's had been moments before. "The advantage of bedding a sailor."

"Advantage indeed. I think if you look in the trunk under the loveseat you'll find anything you need." Vex placed a kiss on top of Percy's head, "You have a deal, my darling."

…

Vex sat pressed against Jester's side as she perched on the polished bartop. The tiefling's delight was contagious, her joy magnetic.

"These might be the best cakes I've ever eaten! And we've traveled a lot and eaten lots of cakes!" Her legs were swinging happily, a chocolate eclair in one hand and a honey cake in the other.

Vex chuckled. "We own the bakery, actually, with some friends. We are looking at a franchise in Wildmount soon. You should be our spokesperson."

"Ooh! I hope it's in Nicodranas, I could eat them all the time! I don't know if I'd be a good spokesperson though, since we are sailing all the time now." Her eyes shifted while she chewed, and Vex followed her gaze.

Her husband was still in the chair watching Fjord dig through their restraint collection, his clothes half-undone and a debauched flush across his cheeks-- plenty of the latter was the wine, she knew. His bitten lower lip and rapt, attentive gaze were his real tells.

“Jester!” Fjord called out, hands working to untangle a coil of inch-thick silken white rope, “We’ll need him undressed.”

Percieval jumped at his own referral, his eyes turning bright with alarm and more than a little excitement when Jester hopped off her perch to approach him. His hands hovered in hesitation, unsure of how to continue.

“Up!” Jester ordered with a little crow. Vex watched the tension in Percy’s shoulders loosen as he obeyed. Thank heavens, someone who knows how to boss the lord of Whitestone around.

The first thing Jester did was grab Percy and turn him away from her to yank his shirts off. Then her movements slowed, and the whole room seemed to slow with her. She pressed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. Even from the other side of the room, Vex could see the shiver that rattled through his form. Hunger stoked, she moved to join them.

Jester had him spun around again by the time Vex got there, soft blue hands resting on his belt with a promise in her eyes. Vex pressed herself against Percy’s back, arms folding around his bare torso as she murmured to them both: “We should move somewhere more comfortable.”

Jester nodded and flashed Vex a sly little smile as she dropped to her knees, yanking Percy’s trouser’s down as she went. Then she stood up.

“Ah!”

Percy let out a startled cry as the sturdy little tiefling grabbed his legs, picking him up as she rose to her feet and tumbling him backwards into Vex’s ready arms.

“Hey, that’s... no-- I--”

Vex chuckled as she helped a giggly Jester to haul her husband over to the large, plush bed that resided in a large alcove opposite the bar.

“Are you losing your voice already, darling? Maybe we should just gag you right now, save you some embarrassment.”

Percy’s face was already getting hotter at her words, but it paled with dread when Jester protested.

“No, no gag! I wanna hear him squeal!”

Only Vex heard Percy whisper “Oh gods, please gag me…” as quiet as a prayer as they dropped him on the quilt in his underwear.

Vex made a sympathetic hum before she mumbled against his ear “Dealer’s choice, darling.”

" ugh." Percy sighed. "Fine but if you give ONE pointer, I swear…"

"Swear what?" Fjord asked, standing at the foot of the bed with several long lengths of silken rope coiled in his hands. "You'll be tied up already. Jester, how do you want him?"

"Hmmm…" the most serious look Jester could muster crossed her face. "Do him like you-know-who likes. Tied to himself."

Fjord nodded as though that explanation made perfect sense. Percy shivered in Vex' arms, wide-eyed suspicion and thrilled anticipation battling for dominance in his expression. His eyes were locked on Fjord in a way that left Vex feeling a little jealous, so as she moved aside to watch Fjord work she pulled Jester into her lap.

The tiefling cooed happily, curling into a ball in Vex's arms.

"So…" the Lady of Whitestone intoned "He apparently forgot about tieflings and your interests."

Jester giggled. Vex couldn't help but spur it along by pinching one soft flank, delighted by the squeak and squirm it earned her.

"We-ell that's good because you get the best noises when they're surprised!"

A soft, worried sound drifted over from the bed where Fjord was patiently laying out a pattern of silken rope against pale skin.

"Oh, I think he's remembered now, actually."

"Aw," Jester teased, eyes glittering, "that’s alright. Anticipation is good too!”

"But surprise is better, hmm?" Vex asked, prickling her nails along the back of one blue thigh in a sneak attack that made her companion squeal.

"Eeheehee! Yehes!" Jester jumped and wiggled, burying her giggling face in Vex's shoulder.

Vex was just starting to wonder what to do next when Jester sat up, her mouth moving a hair's whisper away from one delicately pointed ear. Vex lost track of herself, and her hand stilled at the same time that her breath did.

"But anticipation is good too, huh?" Jester's voice was sweet and breathy, her lips cool and soft against Vex' ear. A shiver trickled it's way down the rivulets of Vex' nerves like ice water.

There was a beat of silence. Vex' breath stayed caught in her chest until Jester's lips turned mean, pulling one point in between her teeth to nibble along its edge and pull a short scream out of the thoroughly distracted Lady of Whitstone.

"Ahh! Oh, you are in for it!"

Vex dove for one dangling blue foot.

…

"EEEK! Ah- I said surprise was betteheher!"

The good news was that the girls were thoroughly distracted, entertaining one another in a tangled mess of limbs in a plush chair to the side of the bed. That bad news was that Percy was left entirely to the mercy of Fjord, who had been tying some of the most arousing knots Percy had ever experienced while telling him in low tones how utterly wrecked he was about to be.

The ropes were twisted around his torso like a harness, and his wrists were bound into the pattern behind his head. His ankles were tied together, and a length of rope attached them to the bindings at his waist. Together it meant that trying to pull his arms down stretched his lower body and straightening his legs stretched his torso.

One strong hand tugged the last knot tight. Fjord settled next to him with his weight on one elbow while his gaze flicked over to the commotion on the chair.

"Should I get their attention?" His voice was low, his smile sly.

Percy swallowed, then intoned "Maybe we can let them tire each other out first?"

"Hmm. Maybe." Fjord purred. His one hand shifted to sit menacing and still on the sheets between them. "She has a standing date to make an archmage cry, you know. And she must like you very much, because she's trussed you up just like him."

Fjord's hand started to creep across the sheets toward his side, careful to keep the ministrations hidden behind the bound man's form so as not to alert their currently occupied partners. Percy squirmed for the first time since he was bound, goosebumps prickling his skin as the ropes shifted and tightened around him.

"I can see why. You're pretty in the same way, although…" Fjord reached up to trace one line of defined muscle from Percy's elbow to his shoulder. He shivered. "You are built a little more sturdy. That should work out well for you." His fingers skated around the swelling on Percy's shoulder, the dipped accross one pectoral to rest on his ribcage.

Percy bit back a yelp, his arms jerking against the soft ropes reminding him for the second time in a minute just how 'trussed up' he was.

"This is his worst spot. Is it yours?"

Percy pressed lips between his teeth, eyes flicking over to the chair where his wife was nibbling at a soft blue belly while Jester squealed.

“Mm-mm”

“No?” Fjord asked, a sparkle in his eye. Two fingers started to moonwalk lazily along Percy’s uppermost ribs.

“No.” Percy huffed through gritted teeth.

“No? You’re sure?” His fingers started to pinch, and each one seemed to pluck Percy’s nerves like a guitar string. Laughter started to shake his chest, and he shook his head in an attempt to clear it before twisting to hide his beleaguered expression from the others. It let him fix Fjord with a glare.

“Mm-mm!”

“You’re not sure?”

“Fuck you.”

Fjord’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam, and his other hand started to float slowly toward a matching spot on Percy’s other side.

“What was that?”

“Mm-mm!”

“No?”

“No--” Percy choked quietly, a whine slipping in, “no, no no no no pl-ease!”

The last syllable came out as a yelp while Percy twisted against his bindings, his eyes shut tight and his head shaking back and forth. There was no holding it in any more, not with the sensation of being trapped in an electrical charge humming through his chest. Even if he could, Fjord had given up the game.

“Hey!” A piping voice from Percy’s right. Jester had somehow wiggled herself upside-down in the chair, where she was now pointing an accusing finger at Fjord. “Are you starting without us?”

“No!” Percy yipped through his laughter, panic rising in his chest.

“He didn’t start without us?” Vex teased, cocking her head.

“No! N-no!” Percy shook his head back and forth, not caring that his denials didn’t make much sense.

“Sooo he’s not tickling?”

Percy just squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head harder.

“Oh, but you’re laughing so sweetly. Are you suuuure you’re not lying to us?” Jester crawled off Vex’ lap and onto the bed, her smile hungry. Fjord backed off, and Percy took a moment to catch his breath, aware of the dangerous and expectant silence around him. When he finally looked up both Fjord and Jester were looming over him. A cold splash of panic poured down Percy’s spine.

“No… no, I’m not lying--” Percy insisted, swallowing his stammer and tightening his expression. Jester exchanged a doubtful look with Fjord. “I’m answering his question.”

“Fjord’s question?”

“Ah,” Fjord answered. “I asked if that was his worst spot.”

“Oooh!” Thank heavens, that seemed to have distracted her from Percy’s alleged dishonesty. “So we still have to find it, huh? We should do an experiment!”

“Oh, what a wonderful idea!” Vex velvety voice joined them, her scent washing over Percy as she slipped behind him to cradle his head in her lap. One graceful hand smoothed his hair away from his head, smiling warmly at him as he pouted up at her. “Percival loves experiments.”

“Not where I’m the test subject.” Percy whined, suddenly sharply aware of the sheer number of hands surrounding him now.

“We need a control!” Jester declared. “That means a place that’s obviously ticklish.”

“That doesn’t make any sense— wait— that is not even remotely what a control—”

Jester didn’t seem to hear his complaints, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as though deep in thought. Her gaze roved up and down his body as Fjord and Vex watched on with amusement.

“Oh! I know!” the tiefling exclaimed. Then she bounced across the mattress to sit on Percy’s ankles.

Percy managed one panicked kick that tugged hard at his ropes before he was pinned even more thoroughly than he had been. Jester peeked coyly over her shoulder at him.

“Ready?”

“No…” Percy whimpered, shutting his eyes tight and bracing the back of his head against his snickering wife’s thigh.

He hadn’t thought his feet were that ticklish, but the way Jester grabbed his toes and stretched them back seemed to expose about a thousand new nerve endings to the electric, maddening scrape of her claws.

“Ah!” Percy yipped, his voice cracking, “No— no, please! You’re na-hahaha-nails!” By the end it was a wail, no denying it. His whole body writhed like a worm on a hook. He wanted to hide this utterly embarrassing mirth from Fjord and Vex, but he couldn’t.

“Oh? Don’t you love them?” Jester teases, pausing her torment to wiggle them at him over her shoulder.

“No!” Percy chokes, “Hate it, please—”

Jester looked over her shoulder with mock hurt in her eyes.

“Hate it? But that’s so mean!”

“Yes darling,” Vex says, reaching out to tweak one pink nipple and make him gasp. “You’re being terribly rude to our guest.”

Percy had to swallow a heated groan. “No pointers, Vax’ahlia.”

“Humph. Well by that logic I can’t do anything to you�� except what they’ve already done.”

Percy’s attention was already zeroed in on Jester’s floating fingers, so it took him far too long to process what his wife had said. Vex’ own long nails were tracing the spot Fjord had abandoned before Percy could blink.

“Vex!”

“What? They already know this spot. It’s not a pointer.”

“No-hoho! It’s just cruel!”

“Cruel?” Vex mock-gasped. “My, your manners are terrible today! You tell Jester you love her fingernails right now.”

“Nohoho!” Percy cried, right before Jester’s nails returned to the ball of his foot and turned his complaint into a wave of laughter.

Somehow through the rush of blood in his own head he heard Fjord’s voice, low and smooth.

“Well, since we did get the freebie…”

One weather-worn hand reached out to roll a pink nipple between two fingers, pulling a whine that nearly matched the intensity of his laughter out of Percy. For a second he was dizzy and the whole world seemed to narrow to that one point of contact.

“Ooh, that’s a cute sound!” Jester teased over her shoulder. “Do you think I can get you to make it?”

“Nahahat from there!”

“Are you suuuuure?” Jester asked. Then her palms moved to stretch both of his feet out, nails raking over the balls of his feet in a precision attack that made him shout.

“Yehehes!”

“Hmm…” Jester was calm and nonchalant as she continued to torment him, a sharp contrast to Fjord and Vex, who’s attentive gazes he could not escape for the life of him. “Maybe if you tell me how much you love my nails, I can move on to a spot that gets those sounds, huh?”

Percy was starting to get breathless and overstimulated, trapped between Vex’s fingers on his ribs, Jester’s on his feet, and Fjord’s delicate teasing.

“Nohoho! Please!”

“Don’t worry,” Jester smiled reassuringly at Vex and Fjord as though Percy wasn’t there. “I think I know what to do.”

Percy almost missed the clear and present threat in those words, frazzled as he was. Not that catching it helped him any. Suddenly the sensation at the ball of his foot was warm, wet and sharp, and Percy was shrieking. The other two were delighted.

“Aaahaha! No, no— pleaheeheese! Vex!”

“Oh hush, I won’t save you.” His wife chuckled from above his head. “Maybe if you give her nails the respect they deserve she’ll put away her fangs?”

“Nahahaha— Alright! Alright! Please, no more!”

Jester stopped nibbling at his arch to look back at him. “Oh? Do you want more nails instead?”

Percy groaned, still chuckling weakly under Vex’ unending ministrations on his ribcage. But his will was cracking, and the words rushed out of him the second Jester opened her mouth in a fang-toothed grin to menace him again.

“No! I mean— yes! Please!”

“Please use my nails?”

“Yes, yes! Please don’t bite!”

“...Because you love my nails?”

“Yes!” Percy wheezed. What was dignity anyways? “Yes, please, I love them! No biting!”

Jester narrowed her eyes, then brightened up with a smile. “OK!”

Percy almost spent a full second catching his breath before her nails returned to that terrible spot again and he was cackling once more. They were only there for a moment, though, before they stopped. Vex and Fjord backed off too, leaving him hiccuping and breathless in the hazy warmth of their presence.

“Now.” Jester sighed, getting up. “I did make a promise, didn’t I? One second!”

She darted off into the now-dark sitting room, disappearing into the shadows as soon as she left the warm light of the fireplace at the bedside. Percy felt a wave of concern, but focussed on catching his breath until she returned. Vex and Fjord smiled at one another over his head. Both bore heavy eyelids and flushed cheeks.

Jester returned with quills. The sight of them made Percy jump in his skin, but seeing as how his skin was bound up too he didn’t get anywhere. Jester passed the instruments out, one for each of them, before settling down on her knees next to him on the bed and flicking one across his right nipple.

Something between a squeak and a keening sound left Percy’s chest with a rush, building into a throaty whine as she continued to circle the sensitive nub.

“There’s that cute sound.”

“That is a good one.” Fjord agreed, twirling his own quill between his fingers, but instead of using it he lowered his head and sucked Percy’s other nipple between his lips.

“Oh!” Now THAT was an embarrassing sound.

Jester’s feather sped up, flicking his nipple over and over until the sensation could become truly ticklish and he was giggling once more. It wasn’t as intense as before, but it was twice as heady. Was he floating? Vex was watching him closely, a smile on her face and her own quill twirling between her fingers.

He was so hypnotized by her, lit warmly by the firelight and delighting in his torment, that he didn’t notice Fjord’s feather alight across his hips until the maddening tip of it was tracing his cutline.

He squealed. Everything stopped. Percy shut his eyes tight, decided that seeing the delight in their eyes would be his demise.

“Oh my.” Fjord purred. “I think we have a candidate for the worst spot, hmm?”

“No—” Percy huffed, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Really? That was quite a reaction. Maybe we should test it out…”

“Oh, we definitely have to follow this breakthrough!” Jester cheered. “Lady Vex, can you take over here?”

Percy’s eyes shot open at that, just in time to see Vex smile warmly and start teasing his nipple with her quill while the other two descended on his midsection.

“Please.” He whined at his wife, his whole upper body writhing under the gentle touches. Then Fjord swept his feather over his cutline once more, capturing both a hiccuping laugh and Percy’s attention.

His hips were bad at the best of times, much less teased into a frenzy as he was. And the bdingins made it uniquely hard to shift or wiggle his centre of gravity, so he couldn’t do much more than quiver and giggle as the half-orc traced every fold of his body there with a delighted smile on his face.

Jester, on the other hand, was grabbing his legs and pushing them upwards, ducking underneath and wriggling awkwardly until she got into the position she wanted: kneeling between his thighs with his bound ankles behind her. Percy became rather suddenly aware of how hard he was.

Fjord’s feather continued across his hips, but Jester’s started to explore the insides of his thighs.

“No!” The little yip was at such a high pitch that even Vex laughed at it, and the laughter that followed matched. “Nohoho- please, please, I can’t I cahahan’t!”

“Oh, can’t what, darling?” Vex asked him, her feather never ceasing to tease one nipple of the other. She smoothed the hair away from his face with the other hand. “You don’t have to do anything. Just relax and let the experiment run its course.”

Percy felt out a frustrated groan, his whole body jumping like a livewire.

Jester’s feather shifted, finding the place where Percy’s thigh met his arse, and he squealed. His back arched as far as it could go before he collapsed into a defeated, twitchy heap.

“Oh, that’s quite the spot.” Fjord teased, immediately reaching for the same spot on the other thigh with his feather. Percy squealed again, head thrashing from side to side in a wordless plea. To whom, it was unclear.

“But is it the worst spot?” Jester questioned, reaching out to pinch the soft little strip of skin with her nails and make Percy shout.

“Ok!” Percy shrieked, “Yes! You found it! Please!”

Jester cheered and Fjord let up, until Vex’ voice interrupted.

“He’s lying.”

The betrayal almost outweighed the tickling for a split second.

Jester gasped, immediately dropping her feather and turning her fingernails on to the same delicate spots that made him thrash and wail.

“Lying is not good, you’re gonna pay for that!”

“I’ll say.” Fjord agreed, and started to trace his feather along Percy’s balls, sweeping at the soft skin on either side.

Percy laughed and wailed, his body flexing constantly against the rope with no reprieve. There was no way to block the sensitive spots with Jester where she was. He was doomed. He was going to cum. Or die. Or cum and die. Tears started to leak down his cheeks.

Vex wiped them away.

“You poor dear. Maybe you should just give them your worst spot, hmm? Get it over with?”

Even in his addled state, Percy knew that would be worse. It must be worse. But he couldn't take much more of this as it would stand. And he hated to safeword in front of guests.

Jester leaned in to tease him. “Yeah! If you let Lady Vex tell us your worst spot, I’ll leave this one alone! How does that sound?”

Nobody could claim that deals had been working out for Percy that night, but as his strength drained away, he made it anyway.

“OK!”

Vex looked astonished. “Really?”

“Yes!” Percy sobbed, “please please just end it I can’t.”

“Oh, well then. It’s his knees.”

“Oh! That’s convenient!”

Then tiefling claws were tracing maddening patterns around his kneecaps while strong hands massaged the sensitive muscle just above them.

Percy collapsed into a hysterical, thrashing pile of limbs. His legs kicked but did no good, and the strength drained from him like water from a broken jug. In the end all of his flexing and thrashing was reflexive, his head turned to sob defeatedly into his wife’s skirt and hope their lovers got bored of making him scream.

“Mercy!” He sobbed, barely audible. He didn’t have the breath for anything more. “Please, please, mercy mercy!”

Fjord backed off first, pulling his hands away from Percy’s knees to instead close one around his cock. On firm pump, then two seemed to pull every bit of air out of Percy’s lungs and give him whiplash of the mind, groans grinding out from behind his teeth intersperse with his still-desperate laughter.

Vex pinched his nipples. The groans grew louder, stealing energy away from the hysterics. He desperately wanted to come, but Jester’s maddening fingers were pulling him back, just barely distracting enough to keep him on the edge.

Fjord seemed to notice and take pity, his eyes sliding over the Jester in an unspoken moment that Percy was too dizzied to follow, but she stopped. She met Percy’s eye over the length of his body, a devilish little smile that seemed to be just for him peaking through. Then she turned her head to the side and started nibbling on the soft skin of his inner thigh.

It was more sensual than ticklish, though he was so riled he still giggled through both the action and the orgasm it sent ripping through him.

Endorphins flowed. The world hazed. Vex ran her hands through his hair while Fjord undid the ropes. Jester got close and kissed his face, wiping away tears of laughter and whispering sweet praises that he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

The rest of the night was a haze of warm firelight and soft skin, sensual and swimming. It trailed off to darkness, still warm, and a restful sleep.

#oh my oh my #some delicious things here yes #tickle fic #critical role #mighty nein #vox machina #percival de rolo #vex’ahlia #Fjord #jester lavorre #ticklish!percy #ler!…everybody #tickling #not mine #author poesparakeet #written for me!#smut

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dreamy--dolly · 5 years ago

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and of course i gotta do this meme w/ galdred!

1. who is the most affectionate? mordred 2. most common argument? blah blah blah daddy issues 3. who apologizes first? galahad 4. favorite activity to do together? reading, ft. mordred peeking over galahad’s shoulder 5. who drives and who rides shotgun? galahad because. why. whY would you trust mordred with a moving vehicle please don’t 6. who is more likely to carry the other? mordred. he’s taller 7. nicknames? “gal” 8. who proposes? mordred 9. who sings along with the radio? galahad and its the cutest thing 10. who worries most? they’re both worrywarts 11. who always wants to take selfies with the other? galahad 12. who likes to playfully tease the other? mordred 13. who has the weirdest taste in their music? as i said before mordred loves his kyary pamyu pamyu 14. who remembers what the other one orders at a restaurant? mordred 15. who tops? cold take but my galahad is a pillow princess aka a submissive bottom v content with mordred topping him and being on the receiving end in every way 16. who initiates kisses? galahad 17. who reaches for the the other’s hand first? mordred 18. who kisses hardest? mordred 19. who is most ticklish? galahad! 20. who brings an animal they found home? mordred: hey i found this crow his name’s thanatos can we keep him 21. who holds the umbrella for the other when it’s raining? mordred is taller but galahad kinda. awkwardly grabs hold of the handle 22. who tries to playfully embarrass the other in public? mordred 23. who kills the scary bugs? both of them hate scary bugs, percival has to intervene and take them outside 24. who asks the weird questions at random in the middle of the night? mordred asks stuff like “how cold would you have to get your teeth to the point theyd shatter upon drinking a cup of hot coffee” 25. who hogs the blankets? galahad 26. who wakes up first? mordred but does he even sleep? 27. who wants to stay in bed just a bit longer? galahad 28. who always makes coffee for the other each morning? mordred 29. who cries during certain films or when reading sad books? both of them bawl their eyes out during that one scene in the godfather ii. 30. who gets scared during horror films? galahad, and like i said - mordred places bets on who dies. 31. who cuts the other’s hair? galahad mordreds hair is slowly turning into a rat’s nest 32. who says “i love you” first? mordred 33. who tells their friends/family about the relationship first? mordred 34. what do their friends/family think of the relationship? arthur is just happy mordred has someone who makes him happy 35. who is more likely to ask the other to dance with them? mordred

#angie.txt #arthuriana #galdred #galahad (arthuriana)#mordred pendragon

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thebest-medicine · 9 months ago

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Day 28: Massage

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - C1 Vox Machina - lee!Vex

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[read on AO3]

A/N: Perc’ahlia gang rise! They both seem the type to be ticklish but in denial about it and embarrassed. Revenge would be wicked.

Words: 480

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Percy’s fingers work their way down along Vex’s shoulder blades, tending to the sore muscles. As he works out a particularly tense knot, she lets out a delighted little sigh of relief.

Smiling down at her, Percy leans in to kiss the skin along the back of her neck. It shudders under his lips, another small noise escaping her throat—this time —she quickly transforms it into a sound of pleasure. It’s a clever disguise, but one that Percy could see through any time with ease.

“Ticklish there? Sorry.”

“What? No, not at all, darling.”

He leans back down to her neck; unlucky for Vex’ahlia, she can’t see the smirk on his face from her angle.

She hears him take a deep breath, tries to turn to ask him what he’s doing, and then the room erupts with noise. Loudest of them all is Vex’s shriek of surprised laughter. There’s the thumping of squirming limbs against the mattress, the silly sound rippling out of Percival’s mouth and across the skin of her neck, the laugh he lets out a moment later when he pulls back and starts massaging again, pretending as though nothing happened.

“You little bastard!” Vex hisses, barely holding in a laugh. She turns, pushes him away, and he’s smiling wide as he falls next to her on the bed.

Percy turns to take her in—blushing and failing to hold back a smile.

“‘Not at all’ ticklish, hmm?” He prods. “That seemed rather ticklish.” He skitters his fingers along the backs of her ribs.

“Not.” She digs in her heels, biting her lip to fight back a smile. Then, Vex’ahlia is on him, fingers wiggling deftly into his sides.

Neither of them are fighting off their laughter now, Percival from the tickling nails climbing under his nightshirt and Vex from the high of turning the tables on him.

“See how you fucking like it–” Percy hears her grumble before she’s ripping his shirt up and throwing the bottom of the fabric onto his chest and in his face.

“NO–” He utters, pawing the shirt back away from his face just as she leans in to blow raspberry after raspberry on his stomach.

Percy’s hands are tangled in her hair a moment later, his feet beating against the mattress as hers were just a minute earlier. He cries out a desperate laugh as she takes her time, fucks with him a bit longer, until he calls out. “Fuck, mercy! Please!”

She relents, satisfied in her victory to make up for the prematurely ended massage.

Percy heaves a few breaths. “Remind me never, ever to piss you off.”

“Better not even dream of it.”

She’s not sure she wants to push for him to get back to the massage tonight, though… despite what he may say, the temptation of revenge would be much too inviting, and she didn’t feel like taking any losses tonight.

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aticklishpercivalwriter · 9 months ago

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Master List (#Percival Fics)

Updated: November 27, 2024

Since the Tumblr tag may not include everything I tag, here’s the full list of fics I have written :)

✒️ Genshin Impact

A Sleepy, Ticklish Aether (Lyney x Aether x Xiao), AO3 Link

Wakey Wakey, Zhongli! (Childe x Zhongli), AO3 Link

A Baton and a Magic Wand (Aether x Gaming x Kazuha x Heizou + Xiao x Venti x Wanderer x Lyney), AO3 Link

Golden Nara Reunited in Dreams (Aether/Aranaras), AO3 Link

The Feeling of Love and Being Free (Xiao x Venti), AO3 Link

A Random Visit Turns Into a Laughing Mess (Itto/Kazuha/Xiao/Gaming + Childe/Aether/Venti/Wanderer + Wriothesley/Lyney/Heizou), AO3 Link -> Surprise Visit - Part 0 of 3 -> Taking Down an Oni - Part 1 of 3 -> Teasing a Childe - Part 2 of 3 -> Catching Wrio Off-Guard…or Not? - Part 3 of 3

The Love Between a Bee and Their Honey (Scaramouche x Sethos); A collection of tickle fics between these lovers~ -> My Honey ♡ My Bee (Scaramouche x Sethos), AO3 Link -> What Are you Hiding There, My Bee~? (Scaramouche x Sethos), AO3 Link -> Home (is wherever I’m with you) (Scaramouche x Sethos) [Submission, Written by @vaporized-dimsum], AO3 Link

Finding Out an Archon’s Secret (Zhongli/Itto), AO3 Link

TickleTober 2024 Masterlist (#perz's tickletober2024) —

Enjoy yourselves reading! Plenty of tickles and laughs await you~

#masterlist #masterpost #tword blog #tk blog #tword community #tickle community #tickling #genshin impact tickling #Genshin impact tickle #Genshin tickle #Genshin tickling #genshin impact #genshin

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kuro-gossips · 6 years ago

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Affections

For @silverynight - Merry Christmas, sweetie! <3 I hope I did them justice, it’s my first time writing anything for Fantastic Beasts.

Five times when Gellert, Theseus, Albus, and Percival show just how besotted they are with the British magizoologist, no matter who the audience is, and once where Newt demonstrates his love for them.

1. Theseus

Newt comes to visit him at his office in the Ministry of Magic on the rare occasion he is in the area. It's been weeks too long since Newt has even set foot in England and Theseus has missed him dearly. Some of the Aurors under his jurisdiction are milling around, filing papers, finishing reports, and discussing active cases.

The opening door disrupts the calm din of the working area and in stumbles none other than his younger brother. Instantly, Theseus is up on his feet, strides over with a sense of urgency, and is hurriedly peppering kisses all over Newt’s charming youthful face, at which he giggles at the ticklish feeling. The other employees of the Ministry attempt to not stare at their boss showering affection on the shorter male. One of the new female Aurors squeaks when the elder Scamander lands a solid one right on Newt’s lips, but is immediately hushed by the others, who remind her that this kind of relationship is common amongst purebloods.

Theseus has no shame and drapes himself all over his curly-haired boyfriend, a content smile sweeping lazily across his features. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Artemis.”

Newt flushes underneath the other’s intense ogling and ducks his gaze out of pure habit. Regardless, his face shows nothing but happiness, his freckles seemingly dancing across his cheeks as his lips curl upwards.

2. Albus

Albus is mid-sentence, teaching a class when a knock on the wooden door reverberates throughout the room. He pauses his lecture, scratching his bearded chin, silently questioning who would interrupt him during class time as he walks over to greet whomever is standing outside. All the students, dressed in the Hogwarts’ robes with their respective house badges emblazoned on their left side, turn to peer at what their professor is doing, necks craning in an effort to see.

“Hullo, Professor Dumbledore.” The male’s tenor voice is soft, but it carries through the space. “I know I’m probably, um, interrupting your lecture, aren’t I? Terribly sorry for that…”

Beyond Dumbledore’s tall and muscular form, the teenagers aren’t able to see much of the mysterious man, but some of them catch glimpses of a mop of curly, reddish hair, a peacock blue peacoat, and a raggedy tan suitcase.

“Ah, Newt!” The sharper students swear their teacher’s eyes shine brighter (had they actually had line of sight of his face) at the other man’s presence. They can taste the sweetness and fondness imbued in the utterance of the younger’s name. He waves off the redhead's concerns and continues, “No trouble whatsoever, Newt. I always have time for you, love.”

That's when the whispering starts when they hear the term of endearment:

Professor Dumbledore has a significant other?

What kind of name is ‘Newt?’

… I would've thought he preferred the fairer sex…

“Oh, well, I could always come back in a bit, you know, once you're done.” Newt stammers out, flushing as if he knows the entire fourth year of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws are staring at him, and maybe he can tell.

“No, no, no, come in, take a seat, the class is almost finished anyway.”

“Well, if you- if you don’t mind then.”

A tall, lanky male with a boyishly charming face is ushered through the entrance and onto a Conjured plush armchair in the back. The adolescents rush to return to normal behaviour and positions, trying to not be obvious that they were eavesdropping on their professor’s conversation, but when Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle furiously, they know they’ve been caught red-handed. Some of their ears are glowing like Muggle Christmas lights at the tips.

The class continues as if nothing has happened, but the wizard lecturing seems to be standing straighter and speaking in a more grandiose manner, like he wants to impress someone. To his credit, there are no further interruptions from the younger blue-eyed man sitting behind the rows of students, a pleasant, albeit lazy, smile gracing his features, but the children themselves cannot stop gossiping. Dumbledore doesn't have it in his heart to dissuade their curiosity, especially in front of his beloved, who holds such a trait above most people. There is the faint buzzing of secrets being traded between individuals and most can't help but glance back to the curly-haired man.

The bell chimes, echoing throughout the school, indicating that it is time to change classes. Newt rises from his seat and approaches the front of the room, stopping in front of the teacher's desk. A couple of students linger as long as possible, but they can feel weak compelling magic being cast, forcing them to leave. Before the doors shut completely, a small group see Albus pulling on the lapels of the vibrant blue coat and sliding his lips over the full ones of the other man, who reciprocates wholeheartedly.

“It really has been too long, since you've visited, Newt.” Even beyond the wooden slabs as barriers, light laughter can be heard down the hallways.

3. Gellert

Gellert has just finished occupying their new hideout in Paris, after excusing the Muggle family from their property (alive and well, thankfully, if Newt were around to say anything). He writes a concise and anonymous note with directions to here, sending it out with a nondescript owl to the magizoologist. His closest associates stare inquisitively at his actions, but don't dare ask. He is not known for using such mundane channels of communication.

Only a couple of hours have passed and to Grindelwald's surprise, there is a familiar pattern of knocking at the house's doors. It's a code that is exclusively shared between Newt and himself. The sound is hushed, just barely enough for the Dark Lord to hear, but the house is utterly silent, so it travels to the ears of his subordinates as well. Vinda appears near the front entrance; however, before she is able to check who is there, her Lord has already invited the person in. To her surprise, it's none other than Newt Scamander because she recognizes the man's face as the one that had been plastered all over the newspapers across North America and Europe.

“My Lord?” Her eyes are wide in disbelief. Grindelwald casually dismisses her with a glance, but she is rooted in her spot. He may have just rolled his eyes.

“Vinda, meet Newt, my beau if you must know.” His mismatched eyes narrow at her, challenging her to voice any undue thoughts she was harbouring. The magizoologist can't help but redden at his words; he can't get used to whenever any of his boyfriends publicly claim him as theirs. Without further ado, he leans down, tenderly cupping the other's heavily freckled cheek, and passionately kisses him. Newt doesn't fight, doesn't try to bite off the platinum blonde's wicked tongue, but instead kisses back.

The French woman cannot excuse herself fast enough.

4. Percival

Percival is in the middle of working a particularly tough case, dealing with some vile witch who enjoys torturing rich, obnoxious No-Maj men and then stringing their bodies up in public places. He can feel a migraine coming on as he analyzes the details presented in the papers strewed across his desk. A memo paper scurries across the oak surface in the form of an origami mouse and he plucks it up to read. The handwriting belongs to MACUSA’s President, Seraphina Picquery, who has requested a meeting for updates on the current investigation with whomever is assigned to it. The team consists of Percival himself, the older Goldstein sister, and another Senior Auror, Fontaine. So as he makes his way to Madam Picquery’s office, Graves takes a short detour to the area where the rest of his department is located to grab the other two.

The Director barges through doors, shocking the workers bustling and chatting around the department space. To his own surprise, he sees a very familiar visage attached to a lean body situated on the couch next to Tina’s desk. Percival needs a moment to compose himself and school his face back to neutral; he doesn’t remember Newt mentioning in any of their correspondences that he would be visiting New York any time soon.

“Mr. Scamander, I didn’t know you were in town.” Graves drawls, a dark eyebrow hinging upwards. The magizoologist shoots up from his seat, clearly not expecting the appearance of his dark-haired lover.

“Oh, um, Mr. G-Graves!” Newt exclaims in a higher pitched voice than his regular tone. It’s obvious the other man is nervous for a reason he cannot fathom. He dismisses the thought because he is required at Picquery’s immediately.

“Goldstein, Fontaine, come. We’ve been summoned.”

“Oh, Mr. Graves, sir, Newt was just here to-” Tina begins, but Percival cuts her off with a glare. The brunette flounders a bit before hurrying to gather her notes about the case and follow after him. “Sorry, Newt, do you mind just waiting here for a bit? I’m sure the meeting won’t take too long.”

They only have Picquery’s attention for a few scant minutes because she is an extremely busy woman, but it’s a series of high profile incidents and she needs to make a strong public presence known. Just as the President is excusing them, she begins speaking again, “Oh, and Percival. I forgot to mention that MACUSA has just extended an offer to Newt Scamander for a consulting position here.”

Percival almost whips around to stare at her declaration, instead he turns around slowly because he is known for nothing if not his complete self-control, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Mr. Scamander will be joining you and your team on all cases involving magical beasts in any form. I expect you to make him feel welcomed, am I understood? We require not only his expertise on this subject matter, but it will also alleviate some of the political tension between England and America, following last year’s fiasco with Grindelwald.” Picquery’s tone is stern and leaves no room for arguments, not that Percival really has any complaints about seeing the British man more.

“Understood, Madam Picquery.” He gives her a brief nod and leaves with his subordinates.

When he arrives at Tina and Fontaine’s office space, he marched straight for the curly-haired male, who is awkwardly waiting around, fidgeting with his case. Percival quickly gathers the other in a powerful hug, as everyone in the immediate area resembles a fish out of water with gaping mouths and eyes.

He asks as he pulls back from the embrace, “You little bugger, you. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be working here?”

Tina watches as those dark brown eyes soften and how the weight seemingly lifts off of his shoulders. She has never seen her boss behave this way, but at the same time, if it were anyone to influence it, it would be Newt.

“Er, well, surprise?” Green eyes glint with amusement and his mouth tilts upward in a half smirk.

To further the occupants of the room’s bewilderment, their previously thought unflappable superior swoops in to press his lips against their charming magizoologist’s.

Suddenly, everything makes sense to the elder Goldstein sister and a small smile creeps up onto her face.

5. In Private

It’s one of the rare times that the five of them can actually convene and they intend to make the most of their time together. A quiet weekend away in the isolated region of Grindelwald’s Nurmengard headquarters is exactly what they all needed after such stressful months of work. Gellert, Percival, Theseus, and Albus all arrive earlier than Newt and the latter can barely get his entire body through the front door, before he is being shoved up against the nearest wall and pampered with affection. His suitcase clatters against the ground as Newt's grip slackens.

Grindelwald, who hasn’t seen the youngest in the longest time of the four, immediately occupies his lips, tongue sweeping against Newt’s bottom lip, seeking permission. He is granted access without an ounce of hesitation, a happy moan emitting from their redheaded lover. Theseus is hovering nearby, raking his hand through those wild curls and presses gentle kisses to wherever he can get to. Albus and Percival stand off to the side, but still in close proximity, patiently waiting their turn. As soon as Grindelwald’s stockier build moves out of the way, the Hogwarts professor is carting him off to their bedroom in strong arms. Newt squeaks and lightly protests, but he knows he can’t win in this situation -- he doesn’t want to either, really.

They take turns stripping him of a piece of clothing at a time, slowly, graciously. It’s far from his first time spent with them, but Newt still shys away from their prying eyes and wandering hands. He is self-conscious of the numerous scars and deformities littering his freckled skin. His boyfriends take it in stride, used to this habit, and stretch his limbs out for more of his creamy skin. There are lips and delicate touches from many, many fingers along the ridges of raised skin, the sensation is ticklish and giggles escape his full lips, uncontrollably.

“Newt, you are so beautiful.” Albus mutters, pushing back from his position where he is kissing the other’s shoulder, and gazes lovingly into those expressive green eyes.

Percival follows up with, “We know you are insecure about your body, but rest assured, it makes you even more appealing to us.”

Newt couldn’t be happier as he pulls each of his lover’s down for a peck.

“I love you all.”

“And us, you, liebling.” Grindelwald fondly coos.

+1 Newt

Newt is not good with publicly showing affection, or even in private, if he is being wholly honest with himself. Even if he loves these four goofballs with all his heart, he has trouble expressing himself freely, but they adore him for his quirkiness and accept it with open arms. They’ve done so much for him and he doesn’t know how to begin to repay their kindness.

The five of them have never explicitly discussed family plans, but he remembers them mentioning adopting children in passing. Newt is curious and seeks something more special than a simple adoption -- he wants their first child to be a meaningful step in their relationship. So he conducts plenty of research and finally, he stumbles upon something in the recesses of Grindelwald’s expansive library.

He waits until Christmas, mere weeks away, when they are exchanging presents and gifts them each with an envelope containing a small piece of parchment. They look on in confusion at it, not able to make sense of anything written on it, but he breaks out in an affectionate grin, wide and unyielding.

“It’s a list of ingredients.” All of their gazes turn towards him and he holds their attention completely, eager to hear what he has to say, “It’s ingredients to a potion that will allow me to bear a child.”

The sight before him is comical, to say the least, and Newt lets his laughter rip out of him at these men who are usually perfectly composed.

“What I’m saying is, I want us to have a child or children of our own. The best part of this potion is that it allows us to combine all of our magical signatures to conceive a child. This way, he or she will truly be all of ours-” Before he can finish explaining, he finds himself at the bottom of a dog pile of heavy men. Gellert and Percival are staring at his belly longingly, imagining it swollen with a baby. Theseus can’t stop praising his genius and showering love over his face. Albus has a devious look on his face that says he wants to start trying conceiving as soon as possible and Newt is all too willing.

#newt's reverse harem #fantastic beasts #newt scamander #theseus scamander #albus dumbledore #percival graves #gellert grindelwald #gift for silverynight #grindelnewt #scamandore #gramander #scamandercest #silverynight #fanfiction #fluff

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tickle-bugs · 5 years ago

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Relax, We’ve Got You

Summary: Percy’s ministry work has him stressed beyond belief. The twins decide to intervene, for their own purposes.

@glitchybrat: harry potter fic prompt: percy's been working his ass off all weekend and he's stressed out so the twins decide to help him unwind 👀

The Ministry was kicking Percy’s ass.

Being promoted was probably one of the greatest honors and worst mistakes of his life. For all the glamour that his career afforded him, he also had mounds of paperwork cluttering every inch of his desk and spilling onto the floor.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It’d take him eons to get this done. He was convinced that the Minister was giving him busy work and didn’t even need half of the documents that he made Percy edit, redraft, sign and organize. Of course, it would be blasphemous to say such a thing aloud, so he kept those thoughts to himself.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes trailing up to the small shelf of knick-knacks above his desk. Sandwiched between random books, action figures, and framed photos was a chocolate frog box full of trading cards from his first year, still in good condition despite the time.

He carefully opened the lid of the small box, flipping through the cards he had. Nestled between Dumbledore and Bertie Bott was a small piece of paper, folded and flattened with care so as to be imperceptible when rifling through the deck. He opened it up for the first time in almost a year.

It was two photos, folded so tightly that they appeared to only be one. The first was of Oliver Wood mid-flight. After a few seconds, the photo moved, and Oliver smacked a Quaffle away from the Gryffindor goal posts, intently focused. Percy brushed a thumb over it.

The second was his favorite photo by far. It was him and Oliver after an intense Gryffindor vs Slytherin game. He watched as he and Oliver struggled to figure out how to pose, before deciding to wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders. Just before the photo froze, Oliver moved his arm down to photo-Percy’s waist, pulling him close and smiling brighter than he’d ever seen. Photo-Percy did the same, leaning his head on Oliver’s shoulder. Percy smiled. He still remembered how horrible Oliver smelled after that game.

He glanced at Hermes, who was sleeping on a perch near his open window. He and Oliver hadn’t spoken in ages. Would it be strange to write to him? To ask how he was?

The sound of thundering footsteps sent him fumbling with the chocolate box, as he struggled to put the photos back. He slammed the box back into its usual spot just as Fred and George burst through the door, chests heaving. It looked like they’d run a marathon given how red their faces were.

“Perce, we need a favor,” George said, leaning against the doorframe. Fred giggled, seemingly involuntary, but George elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

“What is it? I’m busy.” Percy picked up his quill again, squinting at the parchment before him. It was some kind of administrative petition that made absolutely no sense.

“You don’t look busy.” George leaned over Percy’s shoulder, grabbing a few random parchments from the piles on the desk. He skimmed through them for all of ten seconds before putting them back in random places, decidedly, and rightfully, bored.

“Please, come in,” Percy muttered, trying not to let the twins distract him. He’d distracted himself enough already.

“Of course he‘s busy. Look at how tense his shoulders are, how tired he is.” Fred leaned over his other shoulder, poking Percy’s cheek.

“Here, let’s do something nice for him.” George turned Percy’s chair, and before he could complain, started kneading his brother’s tense shoulders. Percy groaned, sliding down in his chair. Fred crouched in front of Percy’s bare feet.

“Give me your feet.”

“Why?” Percy narrowed his eyes, scooting his legs away.

“I want to feed them to the gnomes,” Fred said sarcastically, yanking Percy’s legs forward, “You act as if I’ve done something to you.”

“You have. Multiple times.”

“Why live in the past? That’s water under the bridge. I’m trying to be kind to you. Do you want this massage or not?” Fred stared him down.

“Fine,” He mumbled, and Fred pressed his thumbs into Percy’s arches.

“See how nice it is to relax?” George murmured. Percy was unable to keep a sigh at bay when George found a particularly nasty knot. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. He hadn’t realized how wound up he’d been until his brothers started forcing the tension from his muscles. It made sense, given how he’d been hunched over his desk for what felt like years.

“It’s okay. We’ve got you.” Fred smiled, and Percy let himself sink deeper into his chair. He was so tired and the massage felt so nice.

At least it did, until George squeezed his shoulder a little too softly and Percy let out a tiny giggle.

“Oh Percy,” Fred said, as if he was genuinely in pain. Percy looked up at George, and his heart sank when he saw the same expression. He knew that look, and it was never good.

“Listen, you don’t have to do this,” Percy said, raising his hands in surrender. He cursed himself for smiling already, but he couldn’t help it.

“Oh, but we do.” George said audibly smirking, and Percy knew he wasn’t getting out of this.

“Didn’t you guys need something? You barged in here earlier. What can I do for you?” He cleared his throat, looking between the twins.

“You’re right. We did need something from you. Earlier, George and I were trying to test a hypothesis. It’s something that’s been bothering us for a while, so we figured there was no better day than today to get our answers.”

“What was the hypothesis?” He asked, already dreading the answer.

“Excellent question. For years, we’d been pondering one specific question. Out of the seven of us, who is the most ticklish?” Percy’s eyes widened, and when he tried to get up, George forced him back down by the shoulders.

“So, to answer your original question, there is something you can do for us.” Fred locked Percy’s ankles in a vice grip.

“Laugh.” And with that, twenty devious fingers descended upon Percy’s skin. He exploded into shrill, high-pitched laughter, already flailing like his life depended on it. George’s fingers fluttered all around Percy’s neck, traveling over the shells of his ears or down to his collarbones every once in a while. Percy kept trying to dodge, but George would always be at his other side, ensuring he couldn’t escape.

“Oh he’s easily number four. Look at how quickly we broke him!” Fred said casually, scratching gently at the base of Percy’s toes. Every time Percy tried to grab George’s hands, Fred upped his attack, and vice versa, which resulted in a unique brand of desperate laughter.

“Are you mental? He’s in the top three with you and Charlie.” George said with full confidence, and both Fred and Percy turned bright pink—though the latter was more due to giggling.

“I just don’t see it,” Fred muttered.

“Did you get the balls of his feet yet?” George gave him a look and Percy squeaked, trying to free his feet with renewed vigor.

“I’ll be honest, I forgot about that. Thank you.” Fred adjusted his grip, ending Percy’s hope for escape.

“You’re welcome. It’s important to be thorough. Don’t you agree, Percy?” George smirked.

“N-Nohoho!” He tried to twist out of the chair, but George wouldn’t let him.

“Well, that kind of mindset will only get you into trouble. Are you not thorough in your Ministry work?” Fred’s fingers hovered above Percy’s soles, sweeping in close and wiggling threateningly but never striking.

“Fred, please. Don’t do it. I’ll do the dishes for a week. For both of you. Please.” Percy kept trying to pull his legs away, knowing from experience exactly how badly this would tickle.

“Begging already?” Fred beamed.

“Sounds like something a three would say.” George said and Fred laughed over Percy’s indignant squawk.

“Now I see it. He’s definitely a top three. I mean, watch,” Fred said, and with one finger he ever-so-gently scratched at the ball of Percy’s right foot and he screamed.

“All it takes is one finger to break him. Incredible.” Fred moved his blunt nail in maddening patterns, sending tickly shocks through his entire nervous system. He could feel it everywhere, maddeningly light and impossibly powerful. When Percy tried to kick free and earned more ruthless focus on those spots as a reward.

“Ihi hahate bohoth of yohou! Stohop! Ahaha, Pleahase!” He threw his head back, which was really inconvenient, as he gave George complete access to the front of his neck and underneath his chin. Percy started hiccuping, his nose and neck scrunching as Geroge pinned him with his fingers. Fred remembered that digging in made things worse, and Percy screeched, nearly falling off of his chair.

“He’s looking rather red.” Fred pinched one of Percy’s toes and he giggled tiredly.

“I suppose we have the data we need.” George swiped a finger up the side of Percy’s neck before relenting entirely.

“Percy, take a nap. You’re no use to anyone when you’re tired and cranky.” Fred gave Percy’s knee a squeeze and he yelped, but instead of pulling his knees to his chest, he threw an arm over his forehead.

“Speaking of which, is Charlie asleep?” George patted Percy on the head.

“He normally takes his naps around now, yes.” Fred raised an eyebrow, waiting for George to clue him in.

“What if we cut the line a smidge and do some preliminary research?” George wiggled his fingers a little and Fred grinned, stretching his fingers.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

They were gone as quickly as they came, chattering excitedly about strategy and their experiment.

Percy flopped onto his bed, already feeling the ache of laughter fade from his lungs. As much as he grumbled, the twins had helped in their own strange way. The levity felt nice in his weary bones.

He drifted off rather quickly, dreaming of Quidditch captains and giggles, completely oblivious to Charlie’s desperate laughter booming from down the hall.

#my fics #hp #ticklish!percy #percy weasley #the weasley twins #i couldn't not include a nod to perciver because its such a cute ship #also i tried to hint that george and fred were in a tickle fight before they found percy but idk if that was clear #anyways i hope you enjoy!

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