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lee-lucius · 4 months

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Dancing Away

Hello hello! Here is my @squealing-santa gift for the very cool @/wrestling!anon!!

I tried to pick out two of your prompts and did my best to hit them both, so I hope you enjoy! I also only went with two of the characters listed (Astarion and Wyll) because I feel like I can't quite grasp Gale's characterization yet, and I'm still only in Act 2 of my playthrough thanks to work so I have no idea what Halsin's deal is yet lol. I figured I'd write best with my own game's romance (Wyll) and the character I get the most spoilers for online (Astarion) lol. I hope my characterization works out well enough, and once again, I hope you (and other readers) enjoy!!

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Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Ship(s): Astarion/Wyll

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Astarion/Switch!Wyll

Word Count: 2250 words

Summary: When Wyll asked Astarion to dance, he did not expect it to end in such a ticklish situation. He had no intentions of letting this go without a bit of revenge.

[ao3 link]

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Dancing, Astarion thought. How sickeningly sweet.

But of course, it was Wyll. Astarion wasn’t sure what else he had expected. He was rather the fairytale prince type, not really the kind you take for a quick romp in the forest. In fact, Astarion doubted Wyll would agree even if he suggested it. A younger man may have found it romantic, but Astarion only found it to be a hindrance. It tended to be much harder to manipulate people without sex involved, in his experience.

That is, if Astarion even wanted to keep going through with that plan. It was all so much easier before feelings got involved.

Of course, none of his plans meant that Astarion was willing to drop his snark entirely. “Tell me, does this actually work for you?”

Wyll raised an eyebrow at him and, of course being the cheeky little thing he was, suddenly pushed Astarion out into a wide spin before pulling him close once more. “You tell me. You’re the one who accepted the offer to dance.”

“Come now, darling. You can’t tell me that you don’t crave a bit more… physicality, hm? Intimacy?” He pulled Wyll even closer, adjusting his grip to be just this side of innocent.

Wyll laughed, his eyes cutting to the side to avoid Astarion’s. Astarion could hear his pulse quicken, could smell the blood rush beneath his skin.

“I’d say this is rather physical already,” Wyll said, “wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, you know what I meant.”

Astarion snuck a few fingers beneath the hem of Wyll’s tempting little cropped shirt, sliding them up his side – only, he didn’t get very far. Wyll made a strange, strangled noise in the back of his throat as he buckled in on that side, now dancing away from Astarion instead of alongside him. Astarion froze in his tracks.

“Too far?”

Wyll stood up straight, rubbing at the back of his neck with that horribly endearing self-conscious chuckle of his. “No, no, sorry. You did nothing wrong.” He chuckled again. “Just a bit ticklish there, is all.”

A predatory grin spread across Astarion’s lips and he swept in close to Wyll once more, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him flush. He watched Wyll’s throat bob. “So open with such sensitive information, my dear.” He tsked. “Seems a bit unwise, doesn’t it?”

Wyll rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Everyone’s at least a little ticklish somewhere – would do me no use in hiding it, now would it?”

As he spoke, Wyll’s fingers snuck up Astarion’s own side, repeating the same motion that had Wyll dancing out of his arms. Astarion gasped at the sensation, wrenching himself from their embrace entirely on instinct. The sensation was unfamiliar and familiar all at once – something he knew he had to have felt before, but had no recollection of experiencing. He couldn’t help but stare down at his body as if it had betrayed him.

“See? Everyone’s ticklish somewhere.” Wyll paused, stepping closer. “Did– did you not know you were?”

“Trapped under control of my vampire master the past two hundred years – would you?” Astarion scoffed, refusing to meet his eyes. “Not exactly the time for warm fuzzies.”

“No. No, I suppose not.” After a moment, Wyll stepped closer again, lightly resting his hands against Astarion’s hips. “Never too late to find out, you know?”

Astarion couldn’t help but gape at him. “Are you suggesting I willingly allow you to exploit a weakness of mine for, what, your own enjoyment?” He smirked. “Why, Wyll, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Wyll laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Of course not – it’s just, you ought to know your own vulnerabilities, should you not?”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. Wyll’s grin turned sheepish – but only slightly.

“Alright. I am known to have a bit of a mischievous side.” His thumbs rubbed circles into the divots of Astarion’s hips, just the right amount of pressure to avoid a tickle. “But I would never take advantage of you in that way if you didn’t wish it.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, a fond smile spreading across his lips without his permission. “Gods, don’t be such a hero.”

The words were barely out of Astarion’s mouth before the soothing circles at Astarion’s hips became gentle squeezing. An undignified noise escaped him before he was able to seal his lips shut. He doubled over and scrabbled for Wyll’s wrists.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no,’” Wyll said, his voice filled with so much humor and fondness that it might’ve made Astarion feel ill if he hadn’t already been preoccupied.

“You ass,” Astarion replied instead.

Wyll clicked his tongue. “Maybe this will help teach you some manners.”

Astarion opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a rush of air as Wyll started wiggling his fingers up Astarion’s sides. While the squeezing had been gentle enough, the skittering of Wyll’s fingers was absurdly soft. The light touch was maddening in a way that Astarion couldn’t place, sending him squirming and lost to mortified giggles in mere moments. All of Cazadors horrible tortures, with his cold hands and rough grip, all of the people he’d lured back with his body, with their hungry touches and grasping hands, none of them could have prepared him for this – the delicate fingers of someone who cared for him (albeit through his own manipulation) picking him apart with such ease.

And the worst part was, Astarion found that he didn’t quite mind it. In fact, he actually rather liked it, as horribly embarrassing as it was. It was a kind of intimacy that he had never considered before, and one that wasn’t tainted with nearly so much history. And of course, the handsome smile spreading across Wyll’s face at Astarion’s ridiculous reactions was quite the bonus, even if it was at his expense.

Of course, it became much harder to think the longer Wyll took advantage of his sensitivities. Astarion had no idea that tickling could be so distracting, so consuming. He doubled over as those skittering fingers reached his ribcage, his hands coming up to try and muffle the laughter now escaping him. Wyll laughed along, and they both laughed harder when he managed to maneuver his hands up into Astarion’s underarms, causing him to stumble to the ground.

“Get out of there!” Astarion said, half-heartedly trying to shove Wyll away with one hand, while trying his hardest to shield his reactions with the other.

“If that’s really what you want!”

Astarion quickly learned that was the wrong choice, as Wyll shimmied his fingers out of Astarion’s underarms and swiftly set to poking and prodding around Astarion’s stomach. Through squinted eyes, Astarion could see Wyll watching his every jump and flinch, trying to catch his reactions through his fingers, no doubt cataloguing them to use exploit later.

“See, this isn’t quite so effective.” Wyll punctuated the sentence with a few playful squeezes to his sides.

“Seems plenty effective to me!” Astarion griped, trying to grasp for his hands.

Wyll cocked his head with a grin. “Oh, it certainly works, but you seem to do better with a… softer touch.”

With that, the skittering fingers were back, and a mortifyingly high-pitched noise burst from Astarion’s lips. It was absurd how much the method could change the intensity of the tickle, and even more absurd how badly a touch so soft could affect him. And of course, he was proved right in his previous hypothesis when Wyll seemed to focus particularly on the places he had made note of previously. All Astarion could do was roll around in the dirt and dead leaves, too uncoordinated to do anything to save himself even if he wanted to.

And then Wyll started jumping between certain areas of his upper body at random. His stomach, his ribs, his stomach again, his underarms, his hips, his sides – Astarion could barely keep track of the sensation. All he could do was laugh, no matter where it showed up next. His hips seemed to be particularly weak to this type of touch, and Wyll certainly enjoyed his time taking advantage of that. Even still, though all the playful torment, Astarion couldn’t say he exactly minded, though he would never let Wyll know.

And then Wyll’s fingers jumped up to Astarion’s neck, no warning at all. The tickle was still there, and certainly still effective, but Astarion’s breath caught in his throat. For the first time in all his squirming, he finally lurched away from the touch. One hand flew down to support himself as he tried to sit up, the other flying up to pry Wyll’s fingers away.

Ever so attentive, Wyll pulled his hands away immediately. Instead, he moved to help Astarion sit up, rubbing his back as if to help him catch his breath despite the fact that Astarion didn’t really need to breathe anyways. It was a sweet gesture. Wyll was a fool.

“No neck,” Wyll said. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Astarion scoffed. “Please, as if there would be a next time in the first place. No, you’ve had your fun now, darling.”

Wyll only shook his head, a twinkle in his eyes. “Whatever you say, Astarion.”

“Speaking of fun–” Astarion ran a hand through his hair, trying to ruffle his curls back into place “– I believe it’s my turn.”

Wyll’s eyes went wide, but Astarion pulled him down to be flush with Astarion’s chest before he could make any moves. Though Wyll put up some semblance of a struggle, Astarion was easily able to roll them over, allowing him to loom over Wyll. It was almost endearing how little he was trying to actually fight back. Not to mention, few people would trust a vampire to put them on their back like this. If Astarion’s heart had still had a beat, he was worried it might’ve skipped one or two. As it was, he could hear Wyll’s heart give a stutter of its own.

Wyll gave him another one of those charming nervous chuckles. “Now Astarion, I’m sure we can talk about this.”

Astarion grinned, lowering his voice into a purr. “Oh my dear, you can talk all you wish. In fact, why don’t we start with whichever patch of skin is most likely to make you scream.”

“I’m no fool, Astarion. No man in his right mind would give up such sensitive information so willingly.”

Astarion leaned in closer, so his lips were brushing against Wyll’s ear. “Sensitive information indeed, hm?”

Wyll shivered, but at this point, Astarion was unable to tell if it was from pleasure or from ticklishness. Either way worked in his favor, so instead he set about his revenge. He started at Wyll’s hips, just as Wyll had begun with him, and started wiggling his fingers up Wyll’s sides and ribs. His giggles were music to Astarion’s ears as he shimmied back and forth beneath Astarion’s form. He tossed his head back with his giggling, baring his neck so temptingly, and Astarion couldn’t help but watch the way his throat bobbed with his laughter.

Still, Astarion wasn’t quite getting the reactions he desired. The giggles he garnered between Wyll’s hips and underarms were adorable, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. Astarion jumped down to Wyll’s sides again, giving them a few quick squeezes. He may have taken more than a few pointers from Wyll’s own attack, but it wasn’t as though he had much experience of his own to draw upon. Astarion felt his lips bloom into a devious grin at the flinch the touch garnered him and the louder laughter that followed.

“I see – you’re a bit opposite to me, then.”

Astarion could practically smell the blood as it rushed to Wyll’s cheeks, even if the blush didn’t show on his complexion. For the first time since Astarion began, Wyll started shoving at Astarion’s hands, though the laughter had clearly weakened him.

“Shut up!”

Astarion tsked. “Who knew the Blade of Frontiers was so easily embarrassed.”

He moved his prodding and squeezing inward, and finally Wyll shouted out a frantic, “Shit!” through his laughter. Wyll lurched up and tried to double over, not making it very far thanks to Astarion still looming over him. He scrambled for Astarion’s hands, fumbling blindly and ultimately making no difference to his torment.

“Ah – have I truly found my target so easily?”

“Yes!” Wyll shouted as he collapsed back into the dirt, his head thrown back once more as laughter wracked his body. “Yes, Astarion, please!”

Astarion slowed his fingers to a creeping spider, keeping Wyll in near-frantic giggles even with the light touch. He hummed thoughtfully. “But darling, how can I really be sure without completing my exploration? After all, most people would admit anything under torture.”

Wyll’s head tipped up and he stared at Astarion with wide eyes. Even still, he didn’t tell Astarion to stop. His blood may have been rushing, but it certainly wasn’t due to fear.

“Wait–” His voice was giggly and bright, his eyes clear from any distress.

Astarion hummed. “Condolences, but I believe I’m obligated to investigate further.” He leaned in close, their noses brushing. Astarion could almost taste Wyll’s giggles on his own lips, but he didn’t dare close the distance himself – he had to play this game at Wyll’s pace, after all. “Best prepare yourself for a long evening, my sweet.”

He certainly didn’t imagine the way Wyll’s heart sped up at those words.

#literally screaming #will be reading this every day for the rest of my life #tk fic #bg3

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lee-lucius · 4 months

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Commissions Info

Hey there! So I'm going through a bit of financial inestability right now and lots of upcoming expenses, I'm opening commissions like these! ❀ Two characters, any characters you would like, including OCs

❀ Any tickling pose you would like, as long as its not two full bodies

❀ The style is like the ones above, a clean sketch with no colors, but blush marks

❀ Extra props are included, as long as they are not too complicated

If you're interested, please DM! You can also place the order at my Kofi!

While making your request, please include references of the characters (specially if they are OCs) and also who you would like to see as the lee and ler, or if you want to include details about the poses, expressions, etc.

Commissions are always open, so if you would like a more detailed piece or colored one, please check my commissions sheet over at Kofi!

#commissions #signal boost #please support if you can!

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lee-lucius · 4 months

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A New Kind of Affection

Summary: Izzy Hands accidentally reveals how touch-starved he is to Stede, who is more than happy to help.

Word Count: 2,765

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year @aaaxolotl I was your Secret Santa! This was super fun to get to make, and I hope you enjoy! 💙

He still wasn't quite sure how Stede had dragged him into any of this.

It hadn't been long, only a week or two, since Stede called him into his room, oddly similar to tonight. He'd asked for them to dine together, and well, Izzy didn't see much of a reason not to indulge his captain in his strange request.

They met in Stede's room for a surprisingly pleasant dinner, though Izzy felt unsurprisingly underdressed compared to his host's garish outfits, and he was well aware his table manners left much to be desired, but neither of those had been quite necessary for a pirate's life, and Stede didn't seem to mind, not when he was seemingly so enthralled by the company.

Through Izzy teaching him how to fight, they'd grown fairly comfortable with each other, building up a rapport that was considerably less antagonistic than it had been before. They fell back into it over dinner with ease, perhaps more amiable than they'd ever been, and Izzy found himself even laughing at a few of Stede's jokes, though he hid it behind a strategic cough or two.

Neither of them realized, or cared, just how much they were drinking until they were stumbling around the room, hiccuping around their laughter, for once a genuine smile on Izzy's face.

Memories of that night were fuzzy, and what happened next wasn't entirely clear, but he crumbled under Stede's inquisitive gaze, his warm smile, his soft whispers, and he'd admitted something he shouldn't have.

Something he'd hoped that they'd both forget come morning, even when Stede squeezed his hand before he left, promising something about him being more included, more appreciated, before Izzy stumbled back to his own quarters, flushed from more than just the booze.

He wished he hadn't admitted it. His jealousy when he watched his crewmates, or his captains, and saw the easy air around them, the casual touches and comfort; something about them made envy stir in his chest, thinking about the kind of relationship he hadn't let himself have for years, or maybe ever when he really thought about it.

Now, on The Revenge, it seemed more of a possibility than it ever had before. After breaking down, being vulnerable, Izzy was welcomed; something had shifted; whether it was in him or his surroundings, he didn't know, but it was a good change, no matter how uncomfortable it had been.

His relationship with the crew was different now. Friendly, because he'd finally allowed himself to be open to their friendship, and the change was more gratifying than he ever would've thought.

It was the most relaxed, most relieved Izzy had been in a long time, but he still wanted more, even if he felt he didn't deserve it.

He never would've pursued it ordinarily, admitted it to anyone besides himself, if his drunken self hadn't betrayed him entirely.

But that change, the change Stede brought on, was a good change too.

When they'd met again the next morning, Izzy more pissy than usual with his aching head, he thought Stede may have forgotten it based on his aimless ramblings filled with pleasantries that Izzy had to bite his tongue to sit through.

Stede asked him again to meet him later in his room, and Izzy agreed; he hadn't expected what happened.

He supposed it would be like the previous night, a pleasant conversation, perhaps a shared meal, a drink or two, though certainly not as much as they'd indulged it before.

And it had started that way. There was something about Stede, something that used to make Izzy's skin crawl, his anger, his annoyance overpowering everything else he felt about it, but now it only filled him with warmth, an easy, familiar feeling that allowed him to unwind. That must've been why he didn't suspect anything, certainly not when he and Stede shared a drink, casually picking at a tray of assorted snacks he'd prepared.

Maybe he should've; when Stede sat next to him this time, instead of sitting across from on the other side of his long table. It could still be ignored whenever they bumped shoulders or when one of them shifted slightly, their knees accidentally touching, or when they both reached forward at the same time, hands colliding for the briefest second before Izzy pulled back.

Until their food was finished, abs the conversation lulled, a not uncomfortable silence enveloping them as they nursed their drinks, and Stede, seeming to muster all of his courage, leaned into him, curling into Izzy's side and resting his glass on his shoulder with a content sigh.

Izzy stiffened, and his muscles didn't relax again for a long time, but they both kept the silence, and Stede didn't move.

His breath was steady, ghosting against Izzy's cheek and leaving a faint trace of Stede's wine, fruity and rich. While his hair was soft, delicate strands brushing against and tickling his ear, but he couldn't be bothered at the proximity, at his hair that was too lovely and soft and clean to ever belong to a pirate, yet here Stede was. Izzy wondered if it was Stede's pulse or his own that he felt, drumming violently against his skin, wondered if it mattered.

Not long afterwards, Izzy excused himself, and they parted ways; this time, he had no excuse for his blush.

He didn't know why Stede kept inviting him, or why he kept coming.

It wasn't something he was familiar with. His family had never been awfully affectionate. And as he got older, as he became a pirate, the opportunities became fewer and fewer.

Most contact came during a fight, in the form of a sword or gun or swinging fist, where the only pleasure that could be found came from the adrenaline coursing through his body, the satisfaction of winning, of surviving. There were few other means that arose on a ship aside from boyish tussling, accidentally knocking shoulders with his crewmates, or the rare moments of intimacy when he let someone else, let Ed, tend to his wounds after a particularly bad fight.

But Stede Bonnet came along with his eccentric, unpirate-like ideals and continued to confuse Izzy the same way he had since the first day he met. Bringing that unnecessary frivolity with him and introducing everyone to lavish comforts they didn't want to forgo.

That, he supposed, was why he continued to join Stede; he didn't want to give it up just yet.

Which was why he was sitting on his couch, thumbing through a book from Stede's library, which was still a horrible idea, even if it made for interesting entertainment, with Stede next to him, hand holding Izzy's as he thumbed through his own novel.

It was one of the more relaxing ways he'd spent an evening in quite awhile, or it would've been, if there wasn't one thing nagging him, making his mouth twitch as the uncomfortable feeling spread. "Stop that?"

"What?"

"The hand," he murmured, gesturing with his neck as he struggled to insert his bookmark with only one hand.

"Oh," he let go, a slight frown tugging at his face as he leaned away a touch. "Sorry."

"Not you. Just tickled a bit."

Stede paused, the smile returning with a playful twist, "You're ticklish?"

He grunted, eyeing him warily. "Guess so. Never really been before."

"I've gotten into a few good-natured scuffles in my time. It can be quite fun!"

"You like it?" He couldn't help asking, surprised at the sudden admission.

"Well, I've certainly always enjoyed it."

Izzy huffed out a laugh. He supposed it wasn't that surprising; Stede always had been odd, and it was just like him to like that kind of thing, something so strangely cute.

Leaning back, his eyes raked over Stede, cautiously debating in his head. It was clear as day that Stede was comfortable with him; the only limiting factor seemed to be Izzy's own hesitance, his lack of familiarity with the casual touches Stede so readily gave. He was being quite open about his fondness for tickling, almost suspiciously so. And while Izzy had never even dreamed of tickling someone before, had never even been the one to initiate contact between him and Stede in a non-violent manner, he supposed that here, now, wouldn't be a bad time to start.

"Let's see it then," he shifted, angling his body as he leaned closer to Stede, searching his eyes for any tinge of desire, of excitement.

"Go right ahead!"

His smile grew, eyes brightening at the prospect, but there was an undercurrent of shyness there, weighing down his cheerful expression, matching Izzy's own nerves.

Slowly, he reached his hand out, touch and hesitant as he dragged in along Stede's arm, grazing his silken shirt. While Izzy had never been tickled directly, he'd experienced it plenty of times through accidental touches brushing against his own sensitive spots, so he had a fair idea where Stede would be ticklish; he just didn't know how much he could handle, yet.

Keeping his touch light, Izzy placed a hand in his stomach, unable to help a smile at his small gasp, and gently dug his fingers in, scratching at him through the cloth.

At his deep breath, Izzy's eyes flitted back up to Stede's face, taking in his widening smile, perhaps brighter than he'd ever seen it before, as a giggle erupted from his lips, more pushing through in a steady stream of laughter as Izzy brought his other hand up to squeeze Stede's sides.

"Pretty sensitive, aren't you, Bonnet?"

"I suhuhppohose!" He huffed out, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap, trying to stay still for Izzy.

"I wonder where else…" he hummed, fingers dragging up towards his ribs, lightly pinching the crevices as Stede huffed. He was less ticklish there, but it was worth it to see the way his eyes crinkled, squeezing shut with a whine at Izzy's relentless pokes and prods to the area.

He continued exploring, marveling at how his armpits made Stede shoot his arms down, his resolve not to impede Izzy crumbling at the overwhelming sensations, while his neck made him scrunch up, looking oddly reminiscent of a turtle. Even his ears were ticklish, and quite sensitive to gentle scratches and traces, even more so when Izzy blew gentle puffs of air on them, making him squeal.

But his knees were probably his favorite spot. If only for the fact that when he squeezed it, the most adorably obnoxious snort burst from Stede, forcing him to bury his face in Izzy's shoulder in shame, while the other desperately tried and succeeded to produce the noise again.

Gentle tickling seemed to get to him worse, if the way he shrieked when Izzy's nails glided against the backs of knees were anything to go off of. Even if it only produced quieter giggles compared to the full-bellied laughter Izzy knew he could force, it was better for watching Stede, seeing the miniscule changes in his expression, in his voice, and for allowing Stede to focus on Izzy's occasional teasing.

"Still having fun, Bonnet?"

"Of… cohohuhurse!" He exclaimed, a tired sheen to his eye at how long it'd been, but his joy was much more prominent.

Izzy opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut, head swiveling around at the sound of the door opening,only to find Ed standing there, a confused grin hanging on his face.

"Is this what you two are always doing in here?" He laughed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

"Ed!" Stede breathed out, face brightening again at the sight of his as he sat up straight, trying to smooth out his clothes, his hair, all while keeping his eyes locked on his partner.

Izzy stood up, taking a step away from Stede as his gaze flickered between the two. Would Ed mind him touching Stede like this? Stede had said it was fine, but he wouldn't want to overstep more than he already had, wouldn't want to take anything more from Ed.

"Well come on, mate," Ed faced Izzy, smile shifting into something devious as he walked closer, "why stop now?"

"You… don't mind?" He couldn't help asking, still not sure how he fit into a situation like this.

"Stede, you mind?"

"Nahat at all… I was just showing Izzy how fun tickling could be. He was much better than I would've thought!"

"Is that so?" Ed smiled, walking past Izzy to sit down next to Stede. "Think he's shown you enough yet, Iz?"

"Not quite. I think he still has a bit more to show us," he sat down on the other side of Stede, accepting Ed's acceptance of his role there. If it didn't bother Ed, then he wouldn't let it bother him anymore, even if he was sure everything between them wasn't exactly resolved yet.

Stede laughed nervously, glancing between them, "What else is it you want to see?"

"Mostly…" Ed hummed, grabbing one of his arms to wrench it above his head, waiting for Stede's nod of approval before digging into his underarm, "to see you laugh your ass off."

"Ehehehed!" He cackled, helplessly flailing, and Izzy took that as his cue, bringing his hands back down to squeeze at his thighs and knees.

If Ed wanted to push him, he could do that. And, judging from looking at them, Izzy guessed this wasn't the first time something like this had transpired between Ed and Stede. He only wondered if Stede had realized how awfully ticklish Ed was too, a secret Izzy had long since learned and guarded, but didn't seem inappropriate to reveal later, after they'd finished with Stede.

"Ihihizzy!"

"C'mon Stede, you keep saying our names like that. Just spit it out. What's on your mind?" Ed cooed, lightening up on his tickling to give him a moment to breathe.

"Ihihit's a lohot," he panted, grinning from ear to ear, "buhut it's fuhuhun."

"'Course it is. We're just getting started," Ed purred, delighting in how Stede's flush grew at his words, heart skipping a beat.

Izzy watched Ed kiss Stede's forehead, an uncomfortable pang shooting through him, until Ed turned back to him with a grin and wink, and together they resumed tickling Ed to bits.

"Good time, love?" Ed smiled afterwards, helping Stede to his bed.

"Yes, it was all quite lovely," he sighed dreamily, pulling him into a quick kiss. "But I do like it more when you're the one under me."

Ed reddened at that, laughing away his nerves as he glanced back at Izzy, who was awkwardly trailing towards the door.

"Where are you going, mate?"

"I thought it was time to excuse myself," he cleared his throat, averting his eyes.

"No, no. Come here," Stede beckoned, and Izzy supposed he never really could say no to him that easily, certainly not now, so he swallowed and stepped closer and closer until he was standing by Stede's bedside.

Stede took a breath, reaching out for him, cupping his face, bringing his own closer, as he whispered, "May I?"

Izzy's eyes flickered to Ed's face, seeing only a smile and the slightest nod, not a hint of jealousy or resentment to be found. And so, he allowed himself to once again indulge in the luxuries that came along with Stede Bonnet, closing the distance between them to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

Stede beamed at him when they pulled back, and he could only wonder if his face was as hot as it felt, practically petrified until Ed grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. "Come on, Iz. Get comfortable," he said, shrugging off his own leather jacket and slipping off his boots before he slid into bed beside Stede.

Even Stede's large bed was a bit cramped with the three of them, but Izzy thought it may have just been the best sleep he'd ever had.

It was only affirmed by what he considered the best morning of his life as he woke up in the early hours, watching the sun stream in through Stede's windows, illuminating the two beside him that made it all feel so divine.

A faint breeze blew in, the cold weather penetrating the peace of their haven as he curled further into bed, into Ed and Stede, suddenly reminded on what day it was. As he stared at them, he could only smile, feeling at peace. He didn't know what the future would hold, but as long as he had them, he could feel secure and welcome the new year, whatever it brought.

#my writing #squealing santa 2k23 #tickling #tickle fic #ofmd #ofmd tickle #stede bonnet #ed teach #izzy hands #blackbeard #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #steddyhands #lee!stede #ler!izzy #ler!ed

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lee-lucius · 5 months

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Advent Calendar 3: Angel

Word Count: 1,505

Modern AU

"Um... is—is everything alright?" Grey squeaked, eyes worriedly darting between her partner's faces.

Gordon shook his head, a sullen look on his face, but he made no attempts to sign, only disappearing further into the comforts of their apartment.

Gauche looked vaguely murderous as he leaned closer to Grey, whispering, "Just some asshole customers at work. Got a little too invasive, again."

"Oh," she whispered back, hand cupping her mouth. She never understood why people couldn't mind their own business! If she was there… her spirits fell, realizing she probably would've been too stunned or too intimidated to have done something, even if she had been working today.

"Don't worry. Me and Yami dealt with it. They won't be coming back."

It was as if Gauche always had a sixth sense for when her anxiety was rising, and he was able to soothe it just as easily. Taking her hand in his own and squeezing it gently, he spiked her nerves in an entirely different way, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Her mouth gaped, opening and closing like a fish, only somewhat hidden by her free hand as she tried to gather her thoughts. "B-But he's… he—he's still upset…"

He only shrugged his shoulders, bobbing his head in Gordon's direction after they'd both fallen silent, and they went after him.

They found him lying on the couch in the living room, bundled up in blankets and staring intently on a spot at the wall. Grey stood by the arm of the couch, hesitating, until Gordon noticed her, smiling slightly at her appearing and opening his arms, an invitation she readily accepted.

A set of steady arms enveloped her, cradling her to Gordon's chest in his mound of blankets and pillows, making a exhilaratingly nerve-wracking feeling soar through her, as if she was sitting at the top of roller coaster and didn't know yet if she'd be throwing her arms up into the air or throwing up as soon as the ride ended.

It took a few overwhelming moments for her to adjust, only able to focus on the warmth of Gordon's embrace and his breaths wafting against the back of her neck and the sound of Gauche fumbling around in the kitchen. But she was mercifully able to relax, heart beating slowing even if the embarrassingly bright blush wouldn't leave her face.

She felt… safe, relaxing here with her partner. And secure, as if he was shielding her from all of her anxieties, from everything bad in the world; right there, in that moment, she didn't think she could feel more loved.

And more than anything, she wanted Gordon to feel that way.

"Wait!" she blurted, far more impulsive than usual, and pushed against his chest, sitting up. "I, um, can… can I ho—hold… you, instead?"

With a surprised look on his face, Gordon merely nodded, allowing Grey to hesitantly rearrange them so that he was leaning against her, her arms wrapped around his waist.

This position took more time to adjust, and her embarrassment surely wasn't helped by Gauche returning with three steaming mugs, setting them on the table and positing himself on the other end of the couch, distanced from their cuddle pile. It wasn't unusual of him, but it did make Grey feel more awkward about the whole thing.

At least, Gordon seemed content, he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, and after she'd calmed down her internal screaming, she brought one of her hands up to card her fingers through his hair, like he usually did for her.

He mumbled something she couldn't quite understand, but it was filled with such adoration and love that made her want to cry, because she could hardly believe how lucky she was to be with an angel like Gordon. He was perfect, and she never wanted to let him go.

Until he shifted, looking up at her in a way she could only describe as timid, despite garish makeup that always made him look far more intimidating than he was.

He sat up, and Grey was about to ask if she'd done something wrong or made him uncomfortable when Gordon started signing.

"I want to laugh."

She smiled, grabbing Gordon's hands to pull him back and waiting for him to get settled before saying, "Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop, okay?"

He nodded, the faintest flush on his pale face that made her feel the slightest bit less nervous. It was rare for Gordon to get embarrassed with how naturally affectionate he was, but this—asking to be tickled—always seemed to embarrass him.

It was a little odd at first. She could hardly remember ever getting tickled, let alone tickling anyone, and never thought about it until Gordon admitted he'd enjoyed it, and Grey discovered she didn't quite mind it either.

Still, no matter how many times it happened she could never quite get used to it. Dragging her nails against Gordon's neck, she could hardly believe that she was actually the reason he was giggling like that, a sound so pure and happy she thought her heart might beat right out of her chest.

But that wouldn't be enough if she wanted to really get him laughing. Instead, she brought down both her hands to pinch at his sides, delighting in his surprised squeak and the way he wiggled back and forth, instinctive trying to escape her touch but loving every moment of it.

He was so cute like this, and Grey would do it anytime, as much as he needed, to see that bright smile on his face, and she thought that she actually might just like this as much as he did, and she wanted to tell him all this but found her mouth as unresponsive as usual, the words wilting in her throat.

"Having fun?" Gauche spoke up, surprising Grey so much she almost stopped, but she kept going, not ready to stop hearing her partner's lovely, angelic laugh quite yet.

Gordon only nodded against her shoulder, unable to even attempt signing anything with his hands sandwiched between his and Grey's body.

Watching Gauche from the corner of her eye, she saw how his eyes skimmed over them, the edge of lip slightly quirked up as he shifted a little closer. "If you really want to get him, you should tickle his back."

There was a low whine from Gordon, the noise he made every time someone used that word he apparently couldn't stand. Grey was kind enough not to tease him about it, but she wasn't kind enough to not take Gauche's advice, her nails scribbling against the back of his ribs through the thin cloth of his skirt.

His laughter was louder than anything he'd ever said, low and raspy and absolutely breathtaking. Grey just couldn't resist leaning down to kiss him, pecking at his lower jaw. Then his ear, remembering how it'd made him squeal last time and laughing when he did it again.

Suddenly, his laughter shot up another octave, and Grey realized it was because Gauche had taken hold if one of his feet, looking bored as he aimlessly traced shapes against the soles. But she knew her partner and could see the hidden satisfaction in his eyes, knowing he was enjoying the domestic site as much as them.

After a few more moments, Grey and Gauche shared a glance and wordlessly agreed he'd probably had enough. Even after they stopped tickling him, he continued giggling, a bright smile still plastered on his face.

Grey returned to running her fingers through his hair, lightly kissing his temple, and Gauche ran a hand along his back, rubbing it soothingly but firm enough that it wouldn't still tickle him.

"Feel any better?" Gauche asked after he'd regained control over his laughter.

Gordon only lazily nodded, leaning further into Grey with a yawn. All the events of the day must've tired him out.

"Your drinks got cold. I'll get you new ones," he stood up, beginning to trudge towards the kitchen, but Grey's had reached out before he could, latching onto his wrist.

"Stay," she said, apparently more brave than she thought.

Or stupid, she realized, when Gauche stared at her for a long moment, his one visible eye squinting at her with indiscernible emotions. But right before she was about to start blubbering out apologies, he just shrugged, gesturing for them to make room and sat back down.

Gordon sat in the middle, leaning against Gauche's shoulder this time as Grey leaned against his, held firmly in place by Gauche's arm that stretched along the back of the couch, wrapping around her shoulder. Once again, she was struck by the notion of how lucky she was, not only to be with Gordon, but both of them.

"I love you two," she breathed, continuing her brave streak.

Gordon kissed her cheek as Gauche repeated the sentiment, and she could only wish that every day she spent with them was just as filled with love.

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lee-lucius · 5 months

Text

Advent Calendar 2: Christmas Break

Word Count: 578

Modern AU

"Come on, Senku, do you really need to do this now?"

"It's not like I asked you to come over in the first place. You're begging won't move me one millimeter," Senku said, not looking up from his book even when Gen came up behind him, leaning over his shoulder to skim the words.

"We're on break. Isn't that when you're supposed to cut back on studying?" He sighed, unable to understand a word in Senku's textbook.

"It's not for school. I'm reading up on it to prepare for a new project I'm working on."

"But," he shifted closer, breath tickling Senku's ear as he spoke, "wouldn't you rather spend time with me?"

"No," he swatted at him like a fly, eyes still on the book. Gen yelped loudly as his hand hit him square in the face, eliciting a chuckle from Senku and an all too smug smirk.

Eyes narrowing, he acted without thinking, shooting his hands down to squeeze at Senku's sides.

"What's so funny now?"

He made a strangled noise of surprise, one that sounded like he was choking more than anything, then laughed, something low and quiet, rumbling from the back of his throat.

"Whahat ahare you dohohoing?" he protested, once again trying to swat Gen away, but he was too quick, rapidly jumping between spots on Senku's torso with childish glee.

"Obviously, I'm tickling you. You'd think someone with your intelligence would be able to figure that out."

"Whihihy?" he squirmed, mentally cursing the position he'd landed himself. Sitting at his desk with Gen's arms on either side of him, escape seemed impossible. Ordinarily Gen wasn't much stronger than him, but the ticklish sensation spreading throughout his body was draining the little strength he had. His arms were going limp. It was as if his touch was sending little shocks through Senku at each poke and prod, making his body jolt and his heart beat faster and his limbs go numb.

He was ten billion percent sure he stood no chance.

"Well, you were being awfully rude to me earlier. I think a little payback is only fair, don't you?"

Senku wanted to protest, to ask how exactly this was payback, to tell him that he'd rather be hit instead, but any semblance of a sentence was interrupted by the embarrassingly loud noise Gen drew from him when he squeezed his ribs.

"Now this is definitely a good spot."

His voice was oozing with satisfaction, and Senku swore that he'd get him back tenfold for this. Then all coherent thoughts left his mind as it suddenly got so much worse. Drilling into that one absolutely dreadful spot on his upper ribs, one he was all too familiar with thanks to his father's annoying antics, Gen broke him.

He was laughing louder than he thought was even possible. His knees shot up, banging against the bottom of his desk, and his arms, that had been all too weak before, only able to helplessly clutch his stomach, were suddenly reinvigorated, shoving wildly at Gen in his poor escape attempt.

When he was flailing so much he almost fell out of his chair, Gen finally took pity on him and stepped back, letting Senku recollect himself.

After a few minutes of fighting to regain control of laughter and breath, Senku gripped the edge of his chair, forcing himself up and staring at Gen with an evil glint in his eye, "You… are ten billion percent screwed."

#my writing #tickle fic #tickling #dr. stone #dr stone #ishigami senku #senku ishigami #gen asagiri #asagiri gen #lee!senku #ticklish!senku #ler!gen #advent calendar event

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lee-lucius · 5 months

Text

Advent Calender 1: Cold

Word Count: 489

Usually, Luck was a menace. Don't get him wrong, Magna loved his boyfriend, but he was an absolute menace almost all of the time.

Except for times like these, when the sky darkened far too early, accompanied by the first few wisps of snow, littered faintly across the ground. When his eyes would grow too weary, blinking over and over until a yawn finally escaped him. When there was a faint chill in the air nipping at his flushed skin, leaving him only wanting one thing.

And he found it. With another yawn, Luck collapsed into his arms and snuggled close to Magna, who sputtered an initial protest before relaxing into the touch, unable to hide his smile at Luck's clingy behavior. He knew how rare this was, and he certainly knew more than anyone else what a menace Luck normally was, except for when he was tired, so it didn't matter that it was practically in the middle of the afternoon or that Magna was relaxing on the common room couch when he came over and unceremoniously plopped himself onto Magna's lap in front of everyone because he really had no shame.

Besides, it was rare to see him so relaxed and cozy, and Magna could never resist his puppy-dog eyes.

Luck dug his head into the crook of his neck, while Magna wrapped his arms around him tighter, rubbing soothing circles onto his hips and allowing his heat to seep into Luck. His boyfriend squirmed, swatting at his hand with a whine.

"Stop, it tickles."

Magna smirked. "Oh, really? That's too bad."

Luck shrieked as ruthless fingers were dug into his hips, sluggishly thrashing away from the ticklish sensations. "Nohohoho! Mahahagna stahahap!"

"Nah, maybe this will teach you a lesson for stealing my pudding earlier."

"Buhuhut ihihit wahahas fuhUHUNY! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!" He screamed, voice raising at least three octaves as Magna started kneading his hips, dipping his hands down to make direct contact with his cold skin that was becoming more and more feverish with each passing second.

"You warmed up yet?"

Luck's head was thrown back in laughter, his cheeks more flushed than before and hair sticking up at odder angles than usual. Still, he remained in Magna's lap, curled up to him, any attempts at a response dying on the tip of his tongue only to be replaced by shrill whines.

It was a moment of weakness, admittedly. But his boyfriend was so tired and cute, and he could never resist his puppy-dog eyes.

He eased his attack, switching from kneading his hips to gently scribbling his fingers across Luck's stomach. Relieved, he immediately relaxed, sinking into the touch with sweet giggles.

Magna scoffed, "You wanted this the whole time, didn't you?"

Luck didn't respond, instead yawning between his laughter as he settled in for another joyful night with his partner, letting his heart fill with warmth and laughter until the cold was forgotten altogether.

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lee-lucius · 5 months

Text

𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝔂 15: 𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮 𝓕𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

Closest gif I could get of the two together 😭😭

Happy tkember and almost tkcember, chat!

I am loving one piece so far and I’m gonna make it everyone’s problem.

I’m listening to Ado rn :)

I had to throw in a little bit of ler Zoro bc have you seen him.

—This do have tickles below the cut ngl—

Tags: @chrimsss @trrickytickle @trans-ace-lee @giggly-squiggily @switch-writer

“I’m boooooooooored!” Luffy whined, hanging upside down on the bow of the ship. “Someone come play a game with me.”

“Busy,” the long-nosed pirate murmured, tinkering with some kind of device.

“But Usoooooooopp!” The captain moaned in agony.

How was he supposed to survive in these conditions? God gives his toughest battles to his silliest soldiers…

A glint of joy sparkled in his eye in a moment’s notice. “Hey! Wanna have a tickle fight?!”

The gunner visibly tensed, clamping his arms down to his sides. “No way! I’m- I’m working on something!”

“But you’re so fun to play games with! And I have to know if you’re ticklish!!”

Growing more flustered and frustrated, Usopp barked out an absentminded response. “Come over and make me then!”

“Hehe, okay,” Luffy replied with a Cheshire grin. He stretched his arm out to grab the pole next to his crewmate, letting his body cling to said position.

A small squeak left the gunner as his eyes widened. “Uh… h-hi.”

“Hi!” The stretchy boy cooed, “betcha’ forgot I could do that, huh?”

Usopp did not like the menacing look that was glinting in his captain’s eyes. He shifted apprehensively as he slowly tried to step back. He looked for an exit, eyes darting drastically around the ship. He locked onto Sanji serving some kind of snack to Zoro and Nami, opting to break into a full sprint toward the three.

“SAVE MEEEE! SAAAAAVE MEEEE!!!!!”

Six concerned eyes snapped to the frantic Usopp, who was running from a sadistically smiling Luffy. The three relaxed, realizing that Usopp wasn’t actually in any real danger.

“Well, what did you do to piss him off?” Zoro asked as the curly-haired male jumped onto him. “H-Hey! What are you-“ Instinctively, his arms closed securely around his shipmate.

“Zoroooo, he’s gonna kill me!” Usopp cried, drastically hugging the burly man holding him.

“NUH UH!” The captain called after them, making his way over, “I told you, I just wanted to have a tickle fight!”

“And I said I was- HYEAH!”

The long-nosed pirate was cut off by sudden, repeated pinches to his hips, jumping a bit in the swordsman’s tight hold. “H-Hey- EEP! S-Stahap Zoro!”

“What? I’m not doin’ nothin’… Jeez…”

“B-Buhut you a-ahare!”

“Hey! No fair! I was supposed to tickle him!!” Luffy whined, pouting with his arms crossed.

“Oh yeah? Well-“ Zoro hooked his arms under the gunner’s biceps, causing the latter to kick his feet in defense. “Go for it, Captain.”

That glint of joy and menace found its way back, with Luffy settling in front of his shipmates and reaching up to wiggle his fingers at their gunner.

“Waitwaitwaitwait! Can’t we talk about this?!?! I’m sure we can make some kind of ar-ahahahangemehehent! Nohohoho!”

The captain giggled along with Usopp as he spidered his fingers along the long-nosed pirate’s sides.

“Luhuhuffyhyhy! Zohohohoro! Stahahap!”

“Stop? Already? But this is supposed to be a tickle fight!” Luffy cooed, squishing the soft torso of their gunner.

“Yohohou’rehehe uhuhunfahahair! Luhuhuhuffyhyhy!”

“Unfair?! You can get me back anytime you want; I’ll even tell you that I’m most ticklish on my ribs! Hey… speaking of which…”

Usopp’s eyes shot open as he felt Luffy’s fingers worm up onto his ribcage. He kicked his feet drastically, accidentally slamming his ankle down on his captain’s shoulder. “LUHUHUFFYHYHY! HYEAHAHAHAHA!”

“Yeowch… No need to get so violent with him, Usopp.” Zoro quipped, clamping his own arms to his sides and trapping the latter’s there. He spidered his fingers under both of the gunner’s arms, cracking an evil smile.

“NGHAHAHAHA! GUHUHUHUYS!” The curly-haired pirate squealed as he threw his head back onto Zoro’s shoulder.

“This tickle fight seems pretty one-sided to me,” Nami quipped, casually chewing on a piece of cheese.

“Just glad it isn’t me,” Sanji retorted quickly, shifting a bit.

The two locked eyes… oh shit.

“MEHEHEHRCYHYHY!! I CAHAHAHANT TAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT! TOO MUHUHUHUCH!!” Usopp cried, head unmoving from Zoro’s shoulder.

Zoro ceased his attack, freeing the long-nosed pirate’s arms.

“LUHUHUHUFFYHYHY PLEHEHEHEASE! M’GOHOHONNA DIHIHIHIE!”

“Hey, enough kid.” Zoro scooped up the winded Usopp, whisking him away to safety.

“Oh man! I didn’t know that you were so ticklish, Usopp! That was fun!”

“F-for YOU! I thought I was gonna die you motherf-“

Sanji whizzed past the three of them, Nami hot on their heels. “NAMI NO- WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS!”

“You’d think with such long legs that you’d be able to outrun me, Sanji!” The orange-haired girl chimed as she tackled the chef, her fingers finding refuge squeezing at the blonde’s thighs.

“Heh, get his ass Nami!” Zoro called, still absentmindedly cradling Usopp in a safe embrace.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

#im literally screaming #this is amazing and i love it and im gonna cry #i swear i like one piece a healthy amount #and im definitely not working on another lee sanji fic #no way #tk fic #one piece tickle

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lee-lucius · 5 months

Text

Fatherly Love

Summary: Zeff isn't used to dealing with kids, especially not one like Sanji.

Word Count: 5,630

Warning: Mild spoilers for Sanji and Zeff's backstory (The Baratie Arc)

There is nowhere near enough content for Sanji and Zeff, and I had to do something about. I've only seen the live action and started reading the manga (hopefully it isn't too ooc 😅), but I'm already unreasonably attached to these two. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 💙

Zeff never saw it as anything complicated. When they finally did get off that godforsaken rock, Sanji had nowhere to go. And, well, he'd already given up a leg for the boy; he didn't see why he shouldn't give up piracy as well.

So they started over. Neither of them were ready to give up the sea, not until they found the All Blue, and Zeff always enjoyed sharing a meal. So they opened Baratie.

Maybe it wasn't the best place for a kid to grow up, on a ship full of angry brutes, but the little eggplant got on well enough with the crew—Zeff made sure of that—and he seemed content enough. At least, better than he had been after their rescue. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't horrible, either.

But there were still moments that shattered their illusion of peace, like right now. Sighing, Zeff pulled off his sheets, slowly sitting up and slipping his legs off the bed, taking a moment to steady himself. It wasn't as easy as it'd been in his younger years. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the wooden leg, or the little eggplant's muffled cries that kept him up almost every night.

It was odd, considering what a deep sleeper Zeff had been when he was younger, but it was almost as if he had a sixth sense for when Sanji needed him; when he'd wake up, shivering and sobbing over his latest nightmare, Zeff woke up as well, lumbering over to his room to provide what little comfort he could for a boy who'd been through far too much.

Knocking lightly, he waited for Sanji's muffled consent before entering and closing the door softly behind him. He didn't know why he'd bothered giving Sanji his own room when Zeff spent the night there more often than not. Something about a growing boy needing his privacy; how simple he thought it'd be.

"Just me," Zeff said, as if they both weren't already used to this routine. It still made something stir uncomfortably in his chest every time, seeing Sanji's small figure curled up in his bed, blankets huddled around him like a faulty shield, head tucked into his chest to hide his tear-stained face, though Zeff still saw the way his shoulders trembled and heard the pained, hiccuping gasps Sanji tried to hide.

Zeff didn't say anything else. There was no reason to bombard the boy with pointless questions, especially when it only seemed to send him slipping further into a panic.

He never knew what he was supposed to do in situations like this. He liked to think his presence helped; after all, he was the only who'd been there with Sanji, though Zeff thought his issues began with something long before the shipwreck, and Sanji never stopped letting him in. But he'd never quite been a smooth talker, save for with women, and always found himself tongue-tied in situations like these. Zeff wasn't one for emotions, and Sanji was perhaps the most emotional boy he'd ever known.

There wasn't much to do besides perch on his bed, sitting as far away from Sanji as possible to give him space, and frown, trying to act as if his heart wasn't ripping in two at each muffled cry.

It must have been an especially bad night. Zeff realized that as his cries slowly quieted and his small, trembling frame steadily inched closer. Finally, Sanji's knee, barely a fraction of the size, touched his own. He was tense, more than before, and skittish, as if any wrong move from Zeff could send him running. It probably would. So Zeff did nothing, allowing Sanji his own time to decide.

They'd never been affectionate with each other. Zeff had never been affectionate with anyone, really, except for in the brief way that sailors met with women, something as intimate as these moments with Sanji but in an entirely different way.

Zeff had only ever used his body for that and fighting, which only made this harder. It wasn't like the other times Samji had reached out for him, right after the rock, or even in the midst of it, when he threw himself at Zeff in a moment of reckless grief, while Zeff wrapped his arms around him, trying to offer comfort in a way he didn't know how.

This was different. Slower. Intentional. Calculated, even.

It wasn't a helpless boy blindly reaching out to soothe the ache in his heart, but it was a helpless boy reaching out to him.

Sanji wanted him.

Zeff waited. Sanji continued to creep closer until he leaned into Zeff's side, and finally, slowly, gently, slower and gentler than he ever thought he could be, Zeff wrapped his arm around him, pulling Sanji into a hug.

Sanji buried his face in his chest, his own clumsy arms wrapping around Zeff, clutching handfuls of his shirt as if he was afraid to let go, afraid this would end.

"You're alright now," he said, voice gruffer, and a bit more emotional, than he intended. He lifted one hand, stroking his hair, the other rubbing his back, trying to remember what soothed him all those long years ago when he was a boy. "That's over. You're alright."

Sanji held onto him all night, crying until he finally slipped back into sleep, and Zeff stayed there, awake and cursing the growing ache in his back, until it was time for morning prep, when he shook Sanji awake, squeezing his shoulder one last time before leaving him to get ready for the day.

Neither of them spoke about what happened.

They barely spoke at all, save for a mini-screaming match when Zeff tried to drown Sanji's dish in oregano before it was sent out to his patrons.

It was a busy day, but at least they had had a functioning waitstaff for once—thank god for small mercies. Zeff didn't have the time to babysit Sanji, not anymore than usual, when he had to try and keep the rest of his rowdy crew in line, though he figured the reason at least half of their customers were there was in hopes of seeing the rumored fighting pirates.

There was hardly even a moment for him to sit down, rest his leg and back, and get some shut eye, though the sips of alcohol he savored between the lunch and dinner rushes helped.

But at the end of the day, he was more drunk on exhaustion than anything else, practically stumbling over his feet as he stalked through the kitchen, ensuring every surface and every dish was up to his standards. On days like these, the last day before they hauled up their anchor and moved on, his men tended to get lazy, a problem he could never solve no matter how many times he yelled at them. Except for one, who shared his dutiful dedication to maintaining a clean kitchen.

"Shouldn't you be heading off?" Zeff asked, glancing at Sanji as he silently swept the floors. "A growing boy needs his rest."

"I could say the same. Doesn't a shitty old man need his beauty sleep?"

He grunted. They both knew why he was so tired, and they both knew why Sanji didn't want to go to sleep, but they both said nothing. Didn't matter much tonight, anyway. They could both sleep in, supposing Sanji managed to stay asleep for once. Zeff put a kettle on the stove. Tea usually helped Sanji get through the night.

"Come here, kid," he called, after the tea was brewed. Sanji always preferred it sweeter, so he added a dollop of sugar and spoonful of honey, while he added something a little stronger to his.

Zeff kicked a stool in his direction, and he sat down, gratefully taking the mug that came along with it and enjoying a long sip.

"Not as shit as usual," he said, which was about as good a compliment as any, coming from him.

Leaning against the counter next to him, Zeff took a much needed drink of his own, glaring down at him. "You don't need to help me down here every night. Not that you're much help."

"'Not much help'? I'm the only reason people come to this shithole!"

"Mm. Are you then?" He didn't have the energy for this now. Damn kid.

"I'm the only half-decent chef you have!"

Zeff would never understand where his arrogance came from, not that it was entirely unwarranted. He had made Sanji his sous-chef for a reason, and it wasn't just his fondness for him.

"And who's the one that taught how to make those fancy little dishes, eggplant?"

"It doesn't matter when you drown everything in oregano."

"It's a delicacy!"

"It's for savages!" He slammed his empty mug on the counter, his one visible eye glaring daggers at Zeff, who had to resist the urge to laugh. It'd be a good few years before Sanji got anywhere close to intimidating him.

"You're too young. Palate hasn't developed yet," he waved him off, collecting his glass to wash it in the sink. No need making the kid do it, not when he was practically about to fall off his stool.

"No, you're too old. Can't taste shit anymore."

Zeff rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he always started a fight. Just his attitude, he supposed. He had to take in a kid with the worst personality imaginable. And it didn't help that he was eerily similar to how Zeff had been at that age.

"I can still see well enough, and you're done for the night."

Sanji stumbled to his feet, knowing he was right but not wanting to agree with him. "You look worse than I do."

"Mhm. Then let's both get to bed," he said, because Sanji was right too, and he couldn't bother to keep up with any more banter.

Nudging him in the back, Zeff wasn't prepared for Sanji's violent flinch that almost sent him toppling over. He resisted his instinct to reach out and steady him, figuring that would only make things worse. Instead, Sanji's fingers dug into the countertop, clutching it so hard his knuckles paled, and he turned towards Zeff, eyeing him wearily.

They stared at each other for a moment, silent, before Zeff sighed.

"Go on. Up to bed."

Sanji only nodded and trudged along. Zeff supposed they hadn't made as much progress as he thought. He'd have to be more careful next time.

Zeff always preferred days when Baratie was sailing. As much as he enjoyed the regular hustle and bustle, serving whatever customers had washed up that day, he enjoyed these quiet moments more.

It was good, standing on deck and watching the ship bob in the water, breathing in the sea breeze that was never the same when they were stagnant. He craved the movement, the sailing. And the quiet. Which made him feel like the old man Sanji always insisted he was. As if he was coaxing into retirement and savoring easy days on the sea.

But there was never anything easy on Baratie.

After he'd assembled his men to yell at them about their lazy behavior yesterday and lack of respect, they were dismissed and shuffled out of the kitchen, grumbling among each other but knowing better than to stand up to Zeff.

They'd be really punished later, but a light scalding was enough for now. Especially when he had other plans.

Sanji crept into the kitchen, eagerly buzzing around with a frantic energy Zeff rarely saw. That was another good thing about it. On days like these, Sanji was more excited than Zeff had ever seen him.

It was like there was finally life in the kid. His cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and joy palpable. He couldn't shut up either. The whole time he was rambling, trying to spew out his mess of ideas all at once that had been building up in his head since the last time they did this.

It really wasn't anything that special, and it always led to more than one argument between them, but Sanji liked to offer his input to these menu changes, even when most of his ideas consisted of trite, over-inspired pieces of shit. Though Sanji felt the same way about most of Zeff's dishes.

After gathering up all of his ingredients and managing to form his ramblings into something coherent, Sanji prepared his sample dishes with Zeff watching closely, correcting his mistakes or suggesting alternate techniques. Sanji was always surprisingly receptive to his advice, though he was always an enthusiastic student, and Zeff thought he preferred it when they were alone like this. Even if he still protested oregano coming anywhere near his food. Damn rebellious kid.

It took the entire day and only two fights that escalated so far Zeff worried Sanji would grab the knife on the cutting board and stab him, which was better than usual. They'd sampled enough dishes that neither of them were hungry, nor the rest of the crew, not when they called in a member or two for a third opinion, or a witness when their fights got especially heated.

The kitchen was a mess, but it wasn't their problem. Zeff wanted to head in early, and his crew had to be punished for their mess yesterday, so making them deal with disaster was only fair. With all of them working together, it wouldn't take too long anyway, unless they got into a fight—no, until they got into a fight, forcing Zeff to straighten them out again.

But until then, he pulled Sanji with him above deck to relax for a change.

The sun was already beginning to set; the sky fading into a pinkish-reddish color as Zeff sat down to watch it. Now he really was acting like an old man. Maybe he should start thinking about retirement.

He glanced at Sanji, but he seemed to be enjoying himself as well, even with something as simple as this. It seemed they both savored these little, simple moments.

Now would be a good time to continue their other training. Zeff had been teaching the boy to fight, only simple moves so far, though their progress was slowed by Zeff's own efforts to adjust to his new leg. But it was late, and they were both tired, even if yesterday was one of Sanji's better nights. He'd put it off for another day.

Zeff was so absorbed by his thoughts that he almost didn't register the movement in the corner of his eye. Not until Sanji was noticeably closer to him.

It was different this time. Maybe it was because of his excitable attitude today, or maybe he was starting to feel just a bit more at ease around him, but Sanji, in one quick, casual motion, pressed into Zeff's side, leaning against him.

His body was stiff, no matter how nonchalant he tried to act, and when Zeff looked at him closely enough, he could see the slight shake in his hands. It took a few minutes before Sanji began to relax, his tense muscles easing into the touch, and in another act of courage, he leaned his head against Zeff's shoulder.

He was warm. That was the first thing Zeff noticed. He wasn't used to being touched like this. Besides Sanji's fits after his nightmares and consoling his men who managed to survive the battle but not much afterwards, he hadn't been this close to someone since he was a child. Even then, no one ever reached out to him, curling up beside him the way Sanji did.

It was oddly comfortable, and Zeff found himself enjoying the affection more than he should. This was something he never could've imagined, not at his age.

While he never disliked children, he'd never been particularly fond of them either. And as much as he respected women, he never found one that interested him; no men either, so he never imagined settling down with someone, starting a family, not when his first love was cooking. But here he was, with Sanji. And he couldn't deny his growing affection for the boy, even if he was as rude and shitty as most of the grown men Zeff knew and more traumatized and disturbed than any child should be. He couldn't be sure—it was something he'd never experienced before—but Zeff thought his affection must have been something like that a father felt for his child.

It was a troubling thought that was becoming more persistent, and he had no clue if Sanji felt the same, but that was a problem for another time.

Now, it didn't matter. He simply shifted, leaning his own head against Sanji's to reciprocate the touch and imagined the nervous smile on the kid's face that he must've been fighting so hard to hide.

Maybe this had gone too far, Zeff realized, far, far too late to do anything about it.

It started simple enough.

Sanji had always been a fidgety kid, a fact that Zeff and practically anyone who knew him more than an hour could realize. He was never still, always moving, always squirming. And clumsy, too. He was prone to tripping over his own feet, something that their training had made marginally better so far, but Zeff still held onto the hope that he'd fall out of it with age when the rest of his body grew into his long legs.

Zeff didn't mind; truly, he found it more entertaining than anything else to see the boy bounce around the kitchen. It never interfered with his work, Sanji was far too professional for that, but there were times when Sanji's body moved and fidgeted around so quickly Zeff swore his limbs would fly off, and Sanji swore that he'd die of boredom if something didn't change.

So Zeff came up with a solution. A rather practical one, he liked to think. Instead of twiddling with his fingers or tugging at the strings of his apron or furiously flapping his hands, Zeff, like a practical seaman, taught him how to tie knots. Figured it'd pay off, considering how much of his life the boy spent on a ship.

He'd bring him up to the deck, show him the ropes and give a brief explanation, then show him how to tie every knot just right and send him off with a smaller scrap to practice.

It seemed to help, though they never talked about such things. Sanji simply practiced his knots, asking Zeff when he wasn't sure if he'd gotten it right, and he'd whip it out and practice anytime he got bored, during lulls between the dinner and lunch rush or at night, in bed, when he was trying to fall asleep.

Zeff didn't know how it ended up like this. He'd noticed Sanji's habit, how he'd begun to unconsciously twist strands into his complicated knots, like his apron or the loose fibers on his cheap blanket. It'd escalated fast.

Sanji must've known it would be another bad night, because he didn't bother going to his own room, instead silently teetering after Zeff to stay with him. He didn't like to be alone on bad nights.

There hadn't even been any sign of it, any indication; he simply leveled a heavy stare at Zeff and not asked, ordered him.

"Stay still. I need to try something."

"What are you planning?" He asked warily, recognizing that glint in Sanji's eye that was only there when he got up to mischief, an occasion that was becoming less and less rare.

"Quiet. I need to focus."

Then Sanji was sitting cross-legged in front of him as Zeff sat, back pressed against the headboard. He had to lean down an uncomfortable amount for Sanji to, much to his horror, reach his mustache as he began working on whatever convoluted idea he had.

Zeff wasn't sure what he was doing, as his eyes were firmly closed—and Sanji began yelling at him anytime he so much as tried to peak them open—but it seemed as if Sanji was styling his hair, hands working with a surprising gentleness and expected hurriedness, though it seemed as if his rush ruined his work, judging his heaving sigh every few minutes as he straightened out Zeff's mustache to start over. Always a perfectionist.

It was annoying, like Sanji always was, but Zeff found he didn't mind the intrusion as much as he thought he should. Not that or the tedious ache once again spreading through his back or the feeling of pins-and-needles in his legs that had fallen asleep under Sanji's weight, who sat precariously on top of them.

Perhaps he couldn't complain because he knew what Sanji had been like mere weeks and months before, and that boy never would've afforded Zeff with this casual closeness, one that made an unsettling happiness grow in him, because he knew that they were getting somewhere, that this makeshift ship was becoming closer and closer to the little eggplant's home, and that did, ashamedly, make Zeff happy.

"Okay, I'm done," Sanji finally announced, and Zeff let out a sigh, of relief or disappointment he wasn't sure.

"On with it then," he opened his eyes, this time without any urgent protest from Sanji, and shifted his good leg with a smile too fond for his liking. "Up so I can look."

Something resembling a scowl appeared on Sanji's face, but it was gone just as quickly as he scrambled off of him, rolling onto the side of the bed. Zeff took his time, ignoring Sanji's protests, to stand up, letting feeling come back into his limbs as he stretched before trudging over to his drawers, accompanied with a small mirror hanging above it.

It was about what he'd expected. Zeff's mustache was styled into two somewhat unkempt braids, tied up with his usual blue ribbons. It wasn't half bad, not for the eggplant's first try, and Zeff didn't recall teaching him any braids. He wondered where he'd learned how to do that, but now wasn't the time for questions.

"Right. We done here?"

Sanji's cheeks puffed out slightly, tinged red as his face morphed into a pout. He always did wear his emotions on his sleeve, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Reluctantly, he nodded and stood from the bed.

Zeff turned out the lamp, settling back down into his bed and sparing a glance at Sanji. "You layin' down or not?"

There was a moment of awkward shuffling, Sanji's head darting back and forth between Zeff's bed and the door, looking as if he wished he had that rope on him to give his body something to do and soothe his mind.

After an uncomfortable amount of time passed, Sanji perched himself at the edge of the bed, slowly laying down, as if he was scared Zeff would change his mind and yell at him to scram.

He didn't. He had an extra blanket and pillow, so he didn't mind at all, though if he had to, he knew he would've given his own to Sanji to make him comfortable—the kid hardly got enough sleep as it was.

"Night," he grunted, then added, far too impulsively, "Didn't do half bad with the hair."

For a moment, he thought he imagined Sanji's muffled sounds of joy, but then he only laughed quietly to himself, thinking about all the trouble this dumb kid brought with him.

Zeff was going soft, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

Morning was quiet. Zeff woke up first, squinting at his window, watching the faint rays of light trickle in.

It was early, but he wasn't ready to go back to sleep. Instead, he carefully shifted in the bed, turning on his side to face Sanji. He was still sleeping, lying curled up on his stomach. Zeff didn't realize how much he moved in his sleep, not until Sanji woke him up more than once in the night with a flying limb.

He'd seen him sleeping before. After Sanji had crossed to his side of the rock and discovered Zeff's secret, there was less distance between them. Less reason to hide. And Sanji seemed to, for whatever reason, like the company of bitter old men, apparently as much as Zeff like the company of snarky young kids. But there were some nights when Sanji fell asleep there, with Zeff. He'd moved around too then, violently, thrashing so much Zeff feared he'd fall right into the ocean. He was prone to nightmares then too, but he didn't have any more tears to cry by then, just hiccuping gasps that sounded so painful coming from his dry, aching throat.

He wasn't having a nightmare now. His face was relaxed, not curled up in an aching knot of dread like it usually was. His chest rose and fell with calm, steady breaths. Zeff couldn't see it clearly, not in the dim light, but he heard it, and the noise was a comfort.

Another impulse. That's what Zeff wanted to blame it on. Say that his arm had a mind of its own; that he acted without thinking. He didn't know if that was better or worse than the truth.

But he did know what he was doing. And he wanted to. That was the reason.

That was the reason he reached his hand out, with a touch lighter and gentler than he ever thought he was capable of, combing through Sanji's hair to fix the disheveled mess.

It was soft and void of any obnoxious clumps, both traits he attributed to Sanji's fixation with his appearance. Just had to look good for the ladies, apparently. Not that any took interest in him. The little eggplant had about as much charm as one.

Hair straightened, his hand trailed further down, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the back of his neck. It was something he normally only did after a nightmare, when Sanji cried and clung to him, but it seemed appropriate now too. He thought it was good for Sanji. He always slept better when Zeff held him.

Except now. Sanji twitched, and Zeff worried he'd wake him, so he lightened his touch, fingers barely grazing the skin, and that's when he heard it.

A giggle.

The noise was muffled by the pillows, but it was unmistakable in the quiet of his room. Something high-pitched and boyish and utterly unexpected.

Zeff's hand stilled, staring intently at Sanji. His body was still and breathing steady. He'd heard Sanji talk before in his sleep, but laugh? That seemed odd. Unless it was something else.

Curiously, he continued his light movement, holding back a laugh of his own when he noticed Sanji squirm, twisting back and forth but trying so hard to hide it.

So he was awake. And Zeff didn't see why he shouldn't have his fun.

He changed tactics, switching to scratching at Sanji's neck, touch still light, using just his blunt nails.

There was another noise; this one was more like a muffled whine, low in his throat and barely contained. One of his arms shifted, trying for a subtly he had never been gifted with, and pushed the pillow further into his face, hiding his wide smile.

How stupid did Sanji think he was? He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know after this. And if Zeff said something, he knew it'd ruin the moment. He didn't want to.

He didn't, so he continued tickling the boy who he'd become uncomfortably fond of.

His hand drifted, grazing across the side of his neck in a way that made Sanji's shoulders scrunch up. He couldn't contain himself anymore, and soft giggles poured out of him. The kid was oddly cute like this, and that fond feeling he had for Sanji only grew.

Zeff was careful. They'd never done anything like this—he doubted Sanji'd ever even been tickled before—and they were still in a somewhat precarious position surrounding the kid's tolerance for any touch at all. He wasn't one to be playful, but Zeff figured this was the closest he'd ever get as he moved to new spots.

Sanji chortled when he scratched under his chin, and seeming to have given up the act of pretending to be asleep, kicked his legs when Zeff's fingers prodded at his ears. The strongest reaction came when he scribbled at his back—Zeff hadn't even known backs could be ticklish—making an alarmed high-pitched sound that Zeff could only call a squeal, grip around the pillow tightening, trying to hide his embarrassment or laugh or something, Zeff figured.

After a few more moments, Zeff stopped, pulling his hand away and waiting for Sanji to collect himself. It took a long time for his laughter to calm down, but Zeff only watched, unable to help his own amused smile.

Finally, Sanji removed his face from the pillow, looking up at Zeff. His face was completely flushed, and he had a large, dopey smile on his face that Zeff had only ever seen when he was talking to a girl. Dumb kid.

"Um…" Sanji brought the pillow to his chest, hugging it tightly and partially obscuring his face. "What was that?"

"Tickling. Ever happened to you before?"

He shook his head, eyes flitting away from Zeff with a sad look. He was quiet, seemingly lost in thought, and Zeff watched him, waiting for Sanji to gather himself.

It took a few minutes before he dropped the pillow, propping himself up. There was still a trace of sadness, but there was something else, something Zeff couldn't quite place.

His eyes were big and droopy, fatigue weighing down his lashes and a smile, albeit faint, dragged across his lips. In the quiet of these late nights and early mornings, there was something different about Sanji, more tender. Like the darkness of the sky cloaked them in a veil of security, wrapping around his shoulders and tucking him in with the same comfort of a loving parent.

Leaning closer, a yawn breezing past his lips, Sanji shifted further towards Zeff, mumbling, "'t's nice."

"Guess so," he grunted and, seeing the expectant look on his face, reached back out, curling his fingers into Sanji's side until he burst into another fit of giggles.

Zeff supposed it was quite nice.

Sanji, by some miracle, had actually managed to fall back asleep after crying for mercy.

Zeff wasn't tired, but he stayed, figuring Sanji wouldn't like waking up alone, and there wasn't much work to be done today anyway; he could let him sleep in. He grabbed a book at random from his shelf, biding the time by staring absentmindedly at the pages, his attention always somehow drifting back to Sanji. It was almost annoying, the grip that the kid had on him.

When he did wake up, scolding Zeff for letting them stay in that late and wasting so much of the day as if Sanji was actually the adult. It was stupidly endearing.

Zeff, like always, brushed away his concerns. "Then stop complaining and help me get ready."

"Help?" Sanji asked, indignant, and Zeff sorrowfully remembered what an attitude he had on him. "What do you need now, old man? A diaper change?"

Sighing, he only gestured to his face, watching the confusion spread across Sanji's face and sighing again.

"The braids," he huffed, untying the ribbons. "They need to be redone."

Sometime during the night, or perhaps during his horseplay with Sanji, the hair had become wildly unruly, strands unwinding and sticking out at odd angles.

Sanji stared at him for a long moment like he was stupid. Then asked, in an oddly anxious voice, "What?"

"You heard me. Get on with it."

He couldn't bite back his smile. His whole face lit up, and no matter how hard he always tried to hide it, Sanji still always wore his heart on his sleeve, and his joy was infectious. Shuffling closer, he carefully reworked Zeff's mustache, hair now slightly curled, into a neat braid, redoing them both a few times until he was satisfied with his work, staring at Zeff proudly.

It was better than the ones yesterday; Zeff had to give him credit for that.

"Good work, little eggplant," he said, staring at himself in the mirror. "Now you go get ready. It's late."

Sanji, ever the dutiful worker, hurried out, but Zeff caught the blinding smile on his face before he left.

It was worth the odd stares he got from the rest of his crew, and none of them had the courage to say anything after Zeff stared down the first person who'd so much as uttered a word about it.

Unless it was a compliment, which he tolerated in silence only because it brought that bright smile back to Sanji's face, and the kid deserved the praise.

The day was slow and calmer than Baratie had any right to be.

There was an odd lightness in Sanji; Zeff didn't know if it was because of him, but he was glad.

And he was even happier when it seemed to persist into the next day and the next.

They still bickered, of course—the kid—his kid—just had to bitch about every little thing. They spent long days cooking together, sweating and struggling in their somehow always understaffed restaurant. They trained together on those off days, splitting time between cooking and fighting. And in those early mornings, late nights, and all the time in between, they regarded each other with a new softness, with the playful and affectionate touches Sanji had become accustomed to, the ones he craved.

And Zeff, forever worn out by the rude, annoying kid he'd ended up with, always indulged him, his little eggplant.

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lee-lucius · 6 months

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COMMISSIONS OPEN

Please DM if interested

I can and will draw:

Tickle art (duh)

Humans

Furries/Anthros/Ponies

Animals/Creatures/Pokémon etc

Mild gore and suggestive art

I'll draw most things so feel free to ask

I won't draw:

Heavy gore or explicit NSFW (sorry)

Heavy realism or real people

Political/hate art

PRICING

A colored, lined and shaded piece of one character (incl. things such as "ghost hands" etc) would be $25-30. (Examples below)

(example A would be $25, example B would be $30)

A colored, lined and shaded piece of two characters would be $40-50 (Examples below)

(example A would be $40, example B would be $50)

Prices will definitely vary depending on complexity- don't be afraid to ask🙏 Also, this is a judgement-free zone, I will not be judging anyone based on the content of their commission even if I may decline to draw it.

PAYMENT

Payment can be made via PayPal or Ko-Fi. Would prefer full payment upfront but can also take half upfront and half when the sketch is completed. Additionally, turnaround time will be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks (if it will take longer I will let you know)

Thank you for reading🙏 Again please DM if interested🥳

#signal boost #commissions

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lee-lucius · 6 months

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The Return of Jade & Her Comissions

Hi guys!

I know I've been dead for a while - and for good reason - personal stuff going on - but I'm back for comissions! To make things less overwhelming and confusing here's the deal:

For anons: send an ask of what you’d like with your email, and I will email you back and we can arrange the payment details and commission details there!

$3 gets you minimum 1,500 words of a fic, sometimes more if I happen to be extra inspired

$5 gets you a fic with the accompanying narration, as in, I'll write it and post it with an audio of me reading it too.

$10 for a personal DM sfw tk teasing session that'll go for as long as you want and include aftercare ofc. - Not posted ofc.

$20 for a voice teasing session on discord (on a separate discord acct. just for this) that'll go for as long as you want (i.e. as long as I can come up with stuff off the top of my head lmao) including comfort and aftercare ofc, and a short convo with me, get to know the person behind the fics lol. - Not recorded/posted ofc.

How often I post these? Well, I'll post the strictly written ones as soon as I finish them, and the recorded ones will be posted maybe a day later.

Granted it's the holiday season, so by all means send in things about any holidays you celebrate, and if you want me to write about your OCs I can totally do that, just give me every bit of information you can.

We are aiming for plot of some sort, fluff is welcomed and appreciated, and of course, tickles.

I do have a specific goal in mind here, and due to helping out some very close friends of mine move out of their tiny apartment (reduced to a single room since they opened up the place to help their friend with several children at the threat of being homeless) - I helped out more than I could afford, and now I'm out $3k.

Is this a big goal? Yes.

Should I have double and triple checked how much I was giving so I didn't end up hurting myself financially? Yes.

Did my friend manage to move out of the tiny apartment and find a better and bigger place to live? Yes.

Am I willing to write more fandoms besides MHA? Yes.

I can also write for your OCs! Just tell me everything about them and I'm more than happy to write about them!

Accountability: Since I don't want to deal with fees from gofundme or ko-fi, I'll be recording every comission I get into a google doc and I'll have one of my close IRL friends keep an eye on it for me and make sure every comission I do gets documented. So, you'll be able to see the progress towards this goal here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1k24ZZfEBu73E1MdEB0nQs93LB903IA1cPG6TH5Bj6to/edit

All of my other standard comissions will be open and available as well if you want, but I figured doing it this way with these four options would be the easiest to do!

Either way, happy Tickletober everyone! And happy start of the holiday season! It’s SPOOKY SEEZUN 🎃

#commissions #signal boost

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lee-lucius · 7 months

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Welcome, one and all, to the 8th Annual Tickle Fandom Bloggers Squealing Santa Extravaganza!

This year’s humble host for 2023 on her second year is @hypahticklish - I'm ecstatic to continue stoking the fires of our wonderful tradition! We were so lucky last year to have not only our community artists join the fun, but to break our previous record of participants. I cannot wait to see all the magic our corner of tumblr is able to create 🥰 But enough of my shmoozing - let’s get on to the main event!

Here are the general rules of engagement:

In order to get a peice of tickle fiction or art, you must be willing to create a new peice of tickle fiction or art for someone else.

Your work must be based on the fandoms and prompts provided by your giftee during registration. Examples of what those loose prompts may look like can be found here.

All creations must be posted during the month of December.

All creations must have a title and @ both their giftee and the event blog when posting.

All participants will have their DMs and Asks available for communication with the event Host.

For Our Writers

Fics must be at least 500 words, but there is no limit if you’d like to write more!

All authors must also include the total word count of their piece and a short summary.

Fics must be legibly formatted, i.e. not a block of text for the entire piece.

For Our Artists

Traditional art must be completed on an unlined surface with minimal remaining sketch lines. Color or grayscale is optional. Scanning is preferable when uploading your piece but at the very least needs to be clear and well-lit photo.

Digital art must minimally be in contrasted color or grayscale, and have finished line work.

Comics must have a minimum of two medium-large panels OR two small panels and one medium-large panel, with minimal remaining sketch lines. Color or grayscale is optional.

All artists must include their own accessibility image IDs.

There is no limit if you'd like to create more or explore stylization!

Once sign-ups end, we’ll send out assignments and you’ll have until December 31st to finish your piece and send it to the person you’re creating for. In turn, your writer or artist will post a piece for you also by the end of December! No one will know who is working on whose prompts until the works are published, because surprises are fun!

Use this link right here to complete your registration to this year’s exchange!

Please note that the registration is conducted via Google Forms. While we have turned all email requirements off, there’s still a chance it will autofill that information if you’re logged in. We’d definitely recommend filling out the survey using incognito mode just in case for that reason. Should any emails be submitted accidentally, they will not be utilized or released.

IF YOU ARE ANON: you still must include a tumblr url that we can contact you at. We promise we won’t give it out to anyone; we just will need a way to contact you over the course of the exchange!

We will send you a confirmation DM once your registration has been submitted, so if you don’t receive that, contact us! We want to make sure no one gets left out due to the survey eating submissions or something similarly dumb.

Registration closes at midnight PST on November 5th, so be sure to share with your knismobuddies!

The Fandom Registration will be sent out November 6th to be completed by midnight PST on November 12th.

Assignments will go out by approximately November 16th!

We hope you can join the event this year and have a blast! Until then, we’ll be waiting for you all to sign up!

#its here!!!!!

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lee-lucius · 7 months

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Tickletober Day 14: Soft

Summary: On a shared day off, Tanjiro and Muchiro spend it together reminiscing about their childhoods, and Tanjiro discovers something very interesting about his friend.

Word Count: 2,001

Muichiro rarely took days off. He had the option to but found it unnecessary unless he needed to recover from injuries. Before he recovered his memories, there was no reason to. He had nothing he wanted to do, no one he wanted to be with. He knew nothing of his previous life or family, and his only motivation was the ever-present rage that grounded him.

Now, he knew what had happened to his family. There was still little reason for him to spend his time doing anything other than training and killing demons. He was a Hashira after all, his time was more valuable than the other slayers.

But when Tanjiro had sent him a letter asking to spend some time together, he supposed he could take one day off.

Muichiro met him at the Butterfly Mansion. Tanjiro had written in his letter that he was recovering from some minor injuries he'd incurred on a mission, but Muichiro hadn't been prepared for the extent of them or the spark of anger that flared in him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching up to gingerly touch the bandage around Tanjiro's head.

"I'm fine. Don't worry, it's worse than it looks," He reassured, smile as blinding as usual. Besides the bandages around his head and neck, he was walking with a noticeable limp in his right leg, and without his haori on, Muichiro could see more bandages around his ribs.

He didn't believe Tanjiro but didn't push. Instead he continued to worriedly examine Tanjiro, despite his protests, until he was satisfied.

"It really isn't that bad! Miss Shinobu even said I could leave and go to town!"

"No."

"Oh, you don't want to? Did you have something else in mind?"

"You're still injured. You shouldn't leave. Can you even walk?" Muichiro asked, looking around Tanjiro's private room. He didn't see any crutches.

"Mhm! I can get around fine!" He insisted, standing from his seat on the bed and walking around the room for emphasis. Muichiro didn't seem impressed, making Tanjiro pout as he grabbed his robe and haori, slipping both on. He would have earlier, but he didn't realize how quickly Muichiro would arrive.

"We'll stay here. I'll ask one of the girls to bring us a meal," Muichiro told him and was leaving before Tanjiro could react.

He didn't really mind. He thought they would enjoy a peaceful day walking around town, but he was content as long as he got to see Muichiro. They wrote to each other regularly, but it was rare to get to spend time together. He always treasured it when they could.

Muichiro returned quickly with Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho, each carrying food that they deposited on the table. The three girls huddled around Tanjiro, chattering with him for a few minutes before they left to return to their chores.

The two boys kneeled across from each other at the table. As they began eating, an awkward silence fell over them. Tanjiro, while normally sociable, always found himself struggling to speak with Muichiro. It was easier when they wrote letters, when he didn't completely lose all sense looking at Muichiro, when the odd, pleasant warmth wasn't overwhelming.

Before he realized it, he was drawn out of his thoughts and blurted, "There's sakura mochi!"

Muichiro smiled at him, tilting his head to the side. "Is that your favorite?"

"No, but it's not little sister Hanako's absolute favorite! We only ever had it a few times, but she loves it! She practically drools anytime she sees it," He said, laughing at the fond memory.

"I didn't know you had any siblings other than Nezuko."

Tanjiro stilled, his smile tightening as a sad look passed over his face. "They passed. When Nezuko was turned…"

They were silent again. Muichiro waited for Tanjiro to continue speaking; he didn't.

"I had an older brother," Muichiro began, "A twin. I couldn't remember him for a long time."

"That's awful," he frowned.

"It's okay," he smiled. It was better remembering. "I don't know what his favorite food was. We never had much, so we took what we could."

"We didn't either. I sold charcoal to support us."

"We provided for ourselves after our parents passed. He was always mad at me. And cold. Said I never worked hard enough or fast enough."

"That sounds a little like my brother Takeo! He could be a little harsh sometimes, but he's really a sweet kid."

"How many siblings do you have?"

He told him and named them, and they talked about them and Muichiro's brother. Tanjiro told him things that he hadn't thought about in years, because there was always something going on, some other threat, and there was rarely a moment for reflection like this. Once he got started, it was surprisingly easy for Tanjiro to talk about. There was almost something comforting about it, like a weight he hadn't realized was there was being lifted off of his chest.

Muichiro told him things too, about his brother and parents; memories that had barely just returned to him. Tanjiro wondered if it was as cathartic for him. It must have been, because neither of them could find it in them to stop talking, sharing stories until they were both smiling and laughing, feeling oddly at ease in having someone that understood and being able to escape that pain for a few moments.

"I used to be a crybaby. It always annoyed him."

Tanjiro laughed good-naturedly. Muichiro didn't think he could do anything otherwise; he didn't have an ounce of malice in his body. "Really? It's hard to imagine with how you are now."

"Yeah. I don't think he liked seeing me upset. He always tried to cheer me up," Muichiro abandoned his half-eaten meal, shoving it away from him and busying his fingers with untangling his hair.

"How?" Tanjiro asked, tilting his head curiously. He also had stopped eating, but it seemed as if he had forgotten his food was there, as if all of his focus was on Muichiro. It was an odd feeling.

"Oh, he used to tickle me."

"I do that to my little siblings too! It's so cute whe—" Tanjiro cut himself off, staring at him with his mouth agape. "Wait! You're ticklish?"

"Uh, yeah," He felt his face redden slightly and blew a stray strand of hair out of his face. "Is that… not normal?"

"Oh, no!" Tanjiro shook his head, waving his hands, "I didn't mean anything bad by it! It's perfectly normal; I am too! I was only surprised considering how you were when we first met. I would have never thought that you were ticklish, though I guess it isn't more surprising than Genya…"

Muichiro laughed at Tanjiro's rambling and thought back to his earlier words, "You're a good big brother."

His eyes clouded over as he thought of Yuchiro. His memories had returned, but it still felt as if a piece of him was missing without his brother. There was a constant, piercing ache in his heart that oddly felt less painful the they talked, every word dulling the pain, if only for the moment. It helped, being here with Tanjiro.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when Tanjiro poked him in the side, making him shy away. He hadn't noticed when Tanjiro moved next to him. Had he missed something important again?

"Sor—"

"You seem a little down today. It's a good thing I know how to cheer you up!"

Tanjiro poked his side again, and Muichiro bit the inside of his cheek. He eyed Tanjiro cautiously and was greeted by a kind smile and gentle eyes that made his heart stutter. He trusted Tanjiro and knew he would never intentionally hurt him; it wasn't something he'd experienced in years, but if it ever were to happen again, he supposed he wouldn't mind if it was Tanjiro. After all, he had enjoyed those rare moments when his brother was affectionate.

Besides, it was nice to see Tanjiro smiling like that. Muichiro would do anything to keep him smiling like that.

"It's been awhile. I don't know if I'm still ticklish."

"Want to find out?" His eyes sparkled.

"Yeah," Muichiro's face felt hot.

"Okay," Tanjiro was kneeled beside him on the mats, earnest eyes that Muichiro couldn't meet bore into his skin as he skittered his fingers across his stomach. "Then let's try here!"

He gasped, squirming at the nostalgic sensation. "It seems like you still are! Now let's try somewhere else…"

Tanjiro tweaked his ribs, delighting in the small huffs he elicited from the other boy and his widening smile. His touch was gentle, barely ghosting over his skin in a way that left a tingling sensation long after the touch and made him yearn for more.

"You… don't have to—to be soho… gentle. I'm nahat that… fragile," Muichiro managed between his breathy giggles.

"If that's what you want!" Tanjiro's smile widened as he dug his fingers into his ribs.

He squeaked, bursting into rapid giggles at the intense sensations. He clutched his hands into fists, straining to keep them at his side and ignored his instinct to curl up into a ball.

Tanjiro's touch was still light, allowing him to enjoy the sensation without desperately needing to escape. It was so different from Yuchiro. He tickled him mercilessly, wrecking him in his worst spots until his laughter was silent and he was on the verge of tears. It was awful but also left him feeling so light-headed and giddy he couldn't wait for it to happen again.

Tanjiro's hands shifted, moving to gently glide his short nails along Muichiro's back to give him a break.

Muichiro made an inhuman noise, giggles becoming louder and more rapid as he doubled over. He clenched his hands in Tanjiro's haori as he buried his face in his chest, too distracted by the ticklish sensations to realize how embarrassing their position was.

"Are you alright?" Tanjiro asked, stifling a laugh and temporarily stilling his hands.

He nodded against his chest, still giggling, and Tanjiro resumed his playful attack, making him writhe and shriek.

"That's good, because I'm really enjoying this! Your laugh is so cute!"

He bit back a groan, shaking his head that was still resting on Tanjiro's chest.

"You don't think it's cute?"

"Ihihihits nahahahaht!"

"Yes it is! It's adorable!"

"Nohoho! I behet yohohohours ihihis cuhuhuhuter!"

"Wha—no it's not!" Tanjiro exclaimed, and the tickling suddenly stopped.

Muichiro's face burned as he realized what he'd said and their intimate position. Tanjiro was practically hugging him, and Muichiro was clinging to him. But he didn't want to stop. He was still lightly giggling when he finally mustered enough courage to peek up at Tanjiro.

His face was as red as Muichiro's, his smile wide, and his eyes nervous. He didn't know what to make of that.

"I… I think you're cute," Tanjiro finally spoke up, voice hushed.

Muichiro's throat was dry. He didn't know if it was his or Tanjiro's heart that was beating so fast.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was enough for Tanjiro's face to fall as if anticipating a rejection. He wouldn't get one.

Muichiro leaned closer, and before he realized what he was doing, he'd pressed a kiss to Tanjiro's cheek.

His smile was more radiant than Muichiro had ever seen it. Tanjiro reached out his hand to smooth out Muichiro's frazzled hair.

After what felt like an eternity, Tanjiro said, "I like you."

He couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Me too."

This time, Tanjiro leaned in, and Muichiro met him halfway, sinking into the short, soft kiss—his first kiss.

Then Tanjiro pulled him into a hug, gently cradling him and burying his face into his shoulder, but Muichiro could still imagine the blinding grin and the red flush he must've had.

Once again, they sat together in silence, one that was comfortable and reflective, and Muichiro found himself quite thankful that he had taken the day off.

#my writing #tickle fic #tickletober #tickletober 2023 #augtickletober2023 #demon slayer tickle #demon slayer #kny tickle #kny #tokito muichiro #tanjiro kamado #muitan #lee!muichiro #ler!tanjiro #ticklish!muichiro

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lee-lucius · 7 months

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Satosugu Headcanons

I stayed up way too late last night thinking about these two, so I just wrote down some of my headcanons for them. I hope you enjoy! 💙

Whenever Satoru annoys him too much, he'll start tickling Suguru, because he thinks he can't scold him while he's laughing (he can).

Satoru loves sneaking up behind Suguru and surprising him by squeezing his sides. He often greets him that way, and it always leads to a fight.

Speaking of tickle fights, they're both major switches and get into tickle fights all the time, like literally over the littlest and pettiest things. No matter what they'll find an excuse to start one (they have never gone a day without starting one when they aren't separated by missions).

Satoru always tries to get their other classmates, including those from Kyoto, and somehow always manages to rope Suguru into his schemes. As it turns out, Shoko is not ticklish and is currently planning murder (Satoru isn't sure this is true and wants to try again; Satoru would prefer to live).

Satoru always finds himself letting his guard down far too easily around Suguru and deactivating Limitless, because he craves his affection too much. Suguru knows this and loves to take advantage of it to surprise him with tickles, which is only fair because Satoru always does it to him.

They're an absolutely insufferable couple. You would never want to be around them. They're literally always so touchy and affectionate and have no concern regarding pda, and it is constant. Satoru is sitting on his lap at every opportunity possible. Suguru will never resist the opportunity to link their hands together or play with Satoru's hair. They will and have made out in Shoko's infirmary and somehow in Yagi's office. It never ends.

When they do get into fights in their relationship (which happens frequently), it's often over something really stupid, but they're always very dramatic and blow it out of proportion. They (Satoru) act(s) like they're going to break up and their relationship is over forever and there's no way to ever fix it. Satoru is prone to hanging around Shoko, where he sulks and monologues for hours about everything wrong in his life, while she suffers. Suguru is equally as embarrassing and sad about it, but he's better at hiding it. He goes to his room to be by himself and watches trashy romance movies, thinking about how he and Satoru would normally be making fun of them together (they also do this frequently), which leads to him reflecting on every moment they spent together. Sometimes, when he's sad enough, he reaches out to Nanami and/or Haibara for comfort. Nanami literally couldn't care less, but Haibara is very supportive and the reason they make up half the time (every other time is because Shoko gets too tired of Satoru's bullshit and calls Suguru to come fix him).

Also obsessively use pet names with each other. Suguru's are traditional and very earnest and sweet, like 'dear,' 'love,' and 'honey,' while Satoru will only very obnoxiously call him 'babe,' some other, worse iteration of it, or what can only be considered an insult but is said so lovingly that Suguru can't really be mad.

When either of them go on faraway missions, they both try to get the other a souvenir. Suguru normally gets him a small trinket, like a keychain or a cute ceramic, or some sort of sweets/candy, which Satoru always prefers. He ends up searching for weird, speciality candies that no one would buy in normal circumstances, because, for whatever reason, that's what his partner likes. Satoru tries to find the weirdest, most obscure thing ever that always puzzles Suguru. Like a hat with a built-in toupee or a frame with a toy zebra head inside. Though Satoru is more prone to forgetting to buy him something, and more often than not, he simply buys Suguru's favorite snack at the convenience store, so Suguru relishes the strange gifts when he does get them.

#the weird gifts are either things i have seen in a store or have had someone buy for me cause my family is just like that #but these two are idiots and it seemed fitting so #my writing #headcanons #tickle headcanons #tickling #jjk #jjk tickle #jujutsu kaisen tickle #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu

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lee-lucius · 7 months

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TickleTober Day 14 ~Soft~ (Hell's Paradise)

Being a shinobi meant getting used to painful things.

Gabimaru was no stranger to the sharp slice of a knife, the bruising of a fist, or the dull ache of injury. He was quick to expect pain above all else.

With Yui though, that didn’t exist. With her- everything was so…soft.

“Good morning, dear.” She whispered to him as he rose, lying beside him in their shared futon. The sun was barely over the horizon, filling their little home with orange light. She looked like an angel basking in it, brown eyes warm and smiling. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm…yeah, I did.” He scooted closer, pulling her into his chest. This early in the morning he was far too tired to be bashful. She smelled like honeysuckle and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on but enjoyed greatly.

“Cuddly today, aren’t you?” She giggled against him, her arms coming around his waist as she breathed him in. “I like you like this.”

“Just like this?” He asked, running his hand along her back. When she squirmed,he lightened his touch, earning muffled giggles. “What about the rest of the time?”

“I lihihihike you ahhahahall the time! D-Dehehehahar! Ahehahaha, it tihihiihckles!” Yui laughed, clutching his Yukata as he moved to her sides. “I juhuuhuhust like yoohohohu espehehehehcially in the mohoohohornings! Yohoohhoohu’re so cuhuuhuhuddly!”

“Hehe, yeah. Well- I like you all the time too- especially when you’re all giggly.” He gave her neck a quick tickle before stopping, letting her catch her breath as he ran fingers through her golden hair. “It’s cute.”

“Mehehehhee..hehehe..yohou be cahareful now- I know whehehere you’re ticklish!” She poked his belly, making him flinch with a startled laugh. He waited for retaliation but found himself pulled down so she could kiss him. “I take it back- I don’t just like you all the time. I love you, dear.” Smiling up at his blushing face, she got up and stood, stretching her arms out. “Now I must make breakfast.”

He reached out, catching her hand before she could shuffle away. “Stay awhile?” He asked so softly it broke all her defenses instantly.

“Oh, okay.”

#omgomgomg #ahhhh this is so cute i love them sm #cuddly gabimaru 🥺#they're everything to me #amazing work!!!!!!#tk fic #tk dabble #hell's paradise #gabiyui #gabimaru the hollow #yui

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lee-lucius · 7 months

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Tickletober Day 13: Sneak Attack

Summary: When the Hashiras run into each other while returning from missions, Mitsuri is shocked Muichiro doesn't remember her and decides he deserves a tickly punishment.

Word Count: 2,088

"Who are you?"

Mitsuri didn't know what to say to that.

She was a friendly person, and she deeply admired her fellow Hashira. She tried to bond with them and greatly enjoyed the time they spent together. Admittedly, she hadn't spent as much time with Muichiro as she had with some of the others. Still, it should be enough for him to remember her!

She gaped at him, awkwardly floundering with her hands as she tried to overcome her embarrassment.

"Ah—well it's me… Mitsuri Kanroji… the Love Hashira?" She said with a confused tilt to her voice that made it seem more like a question. She kept talking until something like recognition bloomed in his cloudy eyes.

"Oh. Did you need something?"

Heat flooded her face as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. This wasn't going how she expected. She simply wanted to say hello to her fellow Hashira and perhaps share a meal, but she hadn't thought he would be so aloof!

"No! I was just—" She cut herself off, noticing the cut on his neck. His whole appearance was disheveled, his uniform was bloodstained, and his right leg was dragging slightly behind his left. She'd noticed it when she first approached him, but his response quickly distracted her from her worry. "Are you hurt?"

"It's only minor injuries. I was going to go to the Butterfly Mansion to be treated." He said, gazing up at the sky.

"Eh?! But–but that's so far from here! It would take days to get there! Especially if your leg is injured!" Mitsuri protested, frantically gesturing with her arms. "There's a house with a wisteria crest nearby! Let's go there instead!"

He stared at her for a long moment with a puzzled look. "What?"

She realized he must've spaced out again. It wasn't surprising; he had always been a bit scatter-brained. "Come on! Let's get you some help!"

The walk took longer than it should have with Muichiro's injured leg. Mitsuri had offered to help and crouched down. He hadn't understood why and stared at her until she stood back up, red-faced and talking rapidly. She was like a little chick that wouldn't stop chirping.

Finally, they arrived at a house and were greeted by an elderly couple. A doctor was summoned for him, and Mitsuri disappeared somewhere during his treatment. His injuries weren't severe. Some cuts and scrapes that were quickly dressed, and there was a break or a sprain or something that Muichiro had lost focus on when the doctor explained it. He was too busy trying to remember the name of a bird he saw through the window.

"Are you feeling better?"

Muichiro had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the doctor leave or Mitsuri enter. She must have been bathing because her hair was wet and gathered in rivulets around her, except for a section she was gathering and braiding together. It was pretty. He wondered why it was such an odd color.

"I'm fine," He said, standing up and ignoring the pain in his leg. "I'll be leaving now."

"What? But we just got here!" She cried, dropping the half-made braid.

"Our time is more valuable as Hashiras. Every second we waste leads to someone's death. You aren't even injured. Can you afford to waste your time lounging around here?"

Her mouth fell open, and her face turned red again. It took her a moment to compose herself before she spoke. "You're right… but I don't think that's fair! We're humans, not demons! We need to rest and take breaks, or else we can't perform! We'll make mistakes and get hurt!"

Muichiro stared at her, unconvinced and blank-faced, so she continued to blabber on. "Besides! It's morning so no demons are out! And–and I haven't received a new mission yet, so I have nowhere I need to go! And I don't think you've gotten one either!"

He sighed. It was early. It would be at least half a day before the sun set and demons could hunt; his crow hadn't alerted him of any other pressing matters, and the throbbing in his foot worsened when he walked. He supposed he could spend a few hours eating and resting before he pursued his next mission. It had been a long time since he'd had a proper meal, or rest for that matter, but he doubted he'd have enough time for that.

Tilting his head at Mitsuri, he asked, "Do they have food?"

Her entire being brightened. She was radiant. Smiling and laughing, she clapped her hands together and ran out of the room, promising she'd return with food. He sat back down in his provided bed, toying with a few stands of his hair as he tried to replicate her braid.

After a few failed attempts and getting distracted by the chittering of his crow, Mitsuri returned with the couple, carrying a table and large portions of food.

He didn't need to be confined to his bed, but they insisted on bringing everything to him. They probably would have fed him if he'd let them.

Mitsuri proved to be a surprisingly voracious eater. He didn't expect such a dainty girl to eat so much and lost count after her sixth serving.

The food was good. Warm. Oddly nostalgic. It happened quite often. He'd recognize something familiar. From his old life. The fog around his memories receded just enough for him to recall it without being able to place it; there was never enough to remember anything of value—to unmuddle his mind.

She couldn’t stop talking throughout the meal, either. Mindless chatter and tirades that Muichiro found himself enjoying when he could focus on what she was saying. She didn’t mind when he spaced out and continued on, filling the silence or repeating the question a few times until his attention returned.

“Hm?” He asked, noticing her expectant stare as he tuned back in.

“Do you have any family?” She repeated. She was nice—patient. He knew how easy it was to be annoyed by him. Most people, that he could remember, were.

Before he completely lost focus again, he shifted his gaze back towards Mitsuri instead of the wall it was veering towards.

“I don’t know.”

If he did have one, he had no memories of them. The thought of it left him with a vague longing and sadness that accompanied every other mention of his past, but it made no difference. The fog never cleared.

“Oh,” For a moment, a remarkably sad look passed over Mitsuri’s face, but it quickly brightened again with an enthusiastic smile. “That’s okay! You can make your own family someday! Soon, I want to get married and have lots of kids! You can too, when you’re older!”

He cocked his head to the side. He didn’t know her well but couldn’t recall any mention of a partner. “Who are you going to marry?”

Another blush spread as she cupped her hands around her face, laughing nervously. “Well… I don’t know exactly who yet… but I want to marry someone who’s stronger than me. That’s actually why I joined the Corps…”

He thought for a moment. “Gyomei is pretty strong.”

“Yes, but he’s a bit too old for me. And I… already have my eye on someone else!” Her blush grew as she admitted it.

“Who?”

Shaking her head rapidly, she waved him off with a gasp. “No! There’s no way I could tell you that! It’s too embarrassing! And how come you remember Gyomei’s name but you couldn’t remember me?!”

He shrugged. He’d finished his meal and glanced at the bed, debating whether he should rest before he left for his next mission.

Mitsuri smiled, eyes twinkling. "I think I should teach you a lesson! One that you'll never forget!" She exclaimed, shuffling closer to him.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a method I've mastered over years of training. My—" She lunged at him, rapidly squeezing his sides,"—ultimate tickle attack!"

Muichiro gasped, his eyes widening as he burst into laughter, cringing away from her touch. "Whahat ahare yohohou dohoing?"

"I told you already! I'm teaching you a lesson!" She said, cooing at the adorable noises coming from the younger boy.

He squirmed at the oddly familiar sensation. He recognized it—tickling—but couldn't quite place it in his memories; there was only a vague sense of warmth and longing.

His instincts urged him to get away, but he was tired. He was tired, and his leg was injured, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant, and—and in his faint memories, there was only joy.

So he could let Mitsuri have a little fun.

"You're so cute! Cute! Cute! Cute!" She cheered, poking his ribs with each exclamation.

He squeaked, swatting at her hands as she poked him, making him slowly slink to the ground. With a laugh, she eased his fall, cushioning his head and continuing her attack.

A flush spread across his cheeks, an odd embarrassment coursing through him at her teasing. Cute certainly wasn't a word often used to describe him. He was a Hashira, after all, and not even one of the nicer, bubblier ones like Mitsuri; if anything, she was the cute one.

But her words didn't bother him as much as he thought they should. It made him oddly warm and light, almost as if he could float away, if not for the ticklish sensations keeping him grounded.

It seemed Mitsuri, who had been distracted by the adorable scene in front of her—Muichiro's reddening ears and cheeks, covered with stray strands of hair that splayed around him or the floor, face pulled into a bright, hesitant smile, his hands that clenched her sleeves, seemingly not intending to intervene with his torment, instead seeking to preoccupy themselves so as to not interrupt, his squirming was an unconscious movement, one that made him lurch and jump and squeak whenever she hit an especially bad spot, but never truly intended to get away—finally remembered what her objective had been with tickling Muichiro.

"Come on! Do you remember now? What's my name?" She cooed, digging into his stomach.

"Mihihi—" he let out a high-pitched noise, something like a squeal, when she moved closer to his bellybutton.

"MihihitsuhuHUHUHU," he tried again, but the rest of his words were drowned out in loud, surprised laughter as she used one hand to scratch at his belly button, the other scribbling around his torso. That warm feeling spread across his entire body, as if he was enveloped in a hug.

"Mimitsu? Nope, sorry! That's not me!" She teased, giggling to herself and moving her hands down to pinch at his thighs, not wanting to overwhelm the poor boy. "I guess I'll have to keep tickling you until you remember!"

He was back to high-pitched, soft titters at her gentle tickling. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he laughed; he was nearing his limit.

"Mihihitsuhuri!"

"Yes! Great job, sweetie! And who am I?"

"Thehehe Lohohove Hahahashihira!"

She grinned, quickly scribbling her fingers under his chin before ceasing her tickling. "Mhm! I think you finally learned your lesson!"

He released her sleeves, giggling quietly to himself for another moment before wiping his eyes and sitting up. Immediately, Mitsuri pulled him into a tight hug, unable to contain her excitement.

"That was so much fun!" She squealed, still holding him. "It wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No," he was smiling, but it was hard to tell if it was from her affection or a side effect of the tickling that had only just ended.

Her smile only grew. She tightened her grip ever so slightly, and they stayed there for a long moment, her arms cradling the smaller boy while his cheek rested against her shoulder. Until she began absentmindedly playing with his hair, making him perk up and lightly shove her back to remove himself from the hug.

"Can you show me how to braid hair?"

She gasped, delighted. "Of course!"

It was slow work, teaching him, but Mitsuri was patient and kind and a good teacher, and by the end of it, Muichiro could make a semi-decent braid that she was more than happy to wear. She even gave Muichiro one afterwards, kissing his forehead and allowing him to inspect his new appearance in the mirror.

Maybe, he thought, as Mitsuri happily chattered in his ear afterwards, surprisingly affectionate now that she knew Muichiro didn't mind, taking a break every once and a while wasn't a bad thing.

#my writing #tickle fic #tickling #tickletober #tickletober 2023 #augtickletober2023 #kny tickle #kny #demon slayer tickle #demon slayer #mitsuri kanroji #tokito muichiro #lee!muichiro #ler!mitsuri #ticklish!muichiro

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