#kanene's fanfic
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The Benefits of a Restful Sleep (and other things that a friend can help you with)
Kanene's notes: In my defense, Dogday is way too cute and kind. That was his mistake. Now I just HAD to make an entire story where he is alive and the Player is both the most stubborn bean ever and the biggest softie to set a foot in the factory. That is it. That is the entire story.
Warnings: Mentioned death as a form of reset, angst and mention of injury and blood. It's discussed but not too deeply and isn't the main plot of the story. Raspberries, nibbles, lots of teasing, hurt/comfort and roothing fluff. Reader is adressed with they/them. Around 9.500 words. Heavily inspired by @fluffymary 's wonderful, incredible stories. Take a look at them too :D
[~*~]
You were exhausted.
That was a problem.
Sure, tiredness wasn’t really a new feeling in your life when you looked at the big scheme of things. Even before you went back to your old workplace, it used to cling on your bones, to fill your mind with memories and to pull your spirits down at any time of the day when a kid’s laughter or flowers would remind you of everything you tried so hard to leave behind.
(And look where you are now.)
The constant ‘fighting for your life’ thing also hasn't been helping a lot lately. Adrenaline and the will to keep on living were perfect for the battles but could only get you so far when the feeling of danger and fear scrutinized all of your steps, stalking in any and every corner, waiting for the right moment to strike. Days and hours became a total mess and the longer you spent on exploring and surviving, the more and more things that were once important started to fade to a background thought in your head.
Food was one of them. Water. Sleep. The debris and destruction brought a lot of memories and enemies but hardly a safezone where you could actually sit down, breathe and rest for a bit. It was fine, though. The solution was simple and quick.
Dying.
Sounded harsh when you thought about it in that way, to be honest.
Resetting.
Or something like that.
Not during a fight, of course. After the first couple of times, it quickly became annoying and no fun at all to have to experience all the chase and… other things more than once. However, on other occasions, missteps into an abyss happen and sometimes a bad calculation using the grabpack could be fatal (and more frequent than you should admit.)
You couldn’t deny its convenience. In a blink you would wake up, not hungry, thirsty or exhausted, a few meters behind your previous location and then you would be ready to go until the pain of hunger or the feeling of being in a brick of passing out appeared once again.
It was not the best, you knew, but it was a good enough solution.
It was fine.
(It was fine.)
Especially now, when you have someone else depending on you to survive. Saving Dogday had been tricky and much, much harder than the alternative. Keeping him alive after that, during the smiling critters chase and the aftermath, even more so. None of this didn’t really matter, though. It was worth it.
The beginning had been tougher. With all the emotions, the changes, pain (and how to keep going after all of that), going back to Home Sweet Home and getting into more trouble trying to turn on all the generators. The fact that, not very longer after getting into the Daycare, you found a new, clean fabric and a set of tools to take care of Dogday’s injuries was the perfect help, even if the coincidence of that encounter had bordered on a miracle that made your skin prickle in discomfort as you had stared at the sewing kit localized (placed) just a few meters away from you two. There was no way that this could have been accidental.
(Ever since you set a foot in this factory not a single encounter, voice, tape or battle seemed a coincidence and the fear of the image that this puzzle was creating haunted your every choice.)
Nevertheless, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Even though Dogday stayed unusually quiet for a really long time after his injuries were taken care of, he still insisted on using it despite both of your strong suspicions, not wanting to be a ‘burden’, anymore.
You disagreed strongly with that word, of course. Not only because his knowledge of the place and the little shortcuts or hidden spaces had been essential both to escape from the hungry toys and to make your path confusing enough to mislead any pursuers you had was essential to your survival, but also because…
Damn.
You just really missed this.
Chatting. Having someone truly by your side. No second intentions or guesses or working around to earn a couple of moments of dialogue. Just a companionship and a fighter if needed, someone bright who could, just with their presence and company, help to keep your focus and your objectives in mind.
Dogday’s voice was raspy and rough but his words were light and kind. He would insist on calling you ‘angel’ and gesture excitedly around when he was talking, pulling your attention back when you began losing yourself in your thoughts. He would help solving the complicated puzzles spread through the factory and hold your hand tight to hide the tremble of his own paws when you both went through somewhere too dark. He would joke and hold and help and you wished you could put in words how no trouble in the world could make his presence here not worth it.
That is why you couldn’t afford passing out right now. That is why you kept pulling one foot after the other and continued your path to the end of this hell.
Unfortunately, the very reason that kept you moving forward was the same one blocking you from actually managing to reset your body and get over that tiredness.
The fact that Dogday cared.
He was smart and quite smooth too. That was clear after all the times he would ‘accidentally’ get in front of you when you managed to step a bit too close from a deepless hole or how he would suddenly remember a shortcut that would have you to deviate from the giant abyss you had been eyeing for a few moments ago or when he distracted you as he followed another direction, a light pull on your wrist and a inviting conversation on the tip of his tongue, the pit getting farther and farther away.
It was a bit endearing, you couldn’t lie.
However, when a badly placed hand of your grabpack successfully made you slip from a fatal high and you only had time to listen to a surprised yelp (or more like a ‘yap’?) before a giant orange arm held you close to a fluffy chest you were actually torn between hitting something in frustration and melting in the warmth.
Dogday smiled, looking down.
“Ops, you almost fell in there, angel.” His eyebrow was crooked and his expression filled with tension and confusion. Yep. He definitely realized what was going on. That kind of sucks.
He started heading the other direction, taking a different path to where you were going. “You‘re really tired, aren’t you? Saving everyone must cost a lot of energy.” His eyes softened. You struggled to keep yours open, body inevitably relaxing with his voice and kind touch. “And, well, I don’t think you had a lot of opportunities to rest since you got here too, right? Ehehe. That is… a bit worrisome. Humans need plenty of sleep and we have been walking for a long time already!”
You have survived longer without it. It was fine. There were more generators that had to be turned on before anything else. Those were your priorities.
Dogday acknowledged the end of your sentence before shaking his head vehemently, his ears flopping around in an endearing way.
“The generators have been turned off for a long time now, a few more hours won’t hurt. You are our priority, angel.” Dogday tried to not let his tail wag in adorableness when he pulled you closer to his chest and you let your head and eyelids fall with a really tiny, quiet sound for a moment too long before opening them and watching him in a stubborn manner. “And I think I know somewhere where we can hide for long enough before continuing.”
He watched as you deviated your gaze, thoughtful. Almost there.
“Besides, my kind angel” he let his posture go, just a little. The exhaustion from… everything showing from the light of his eyes to the darkness of his mouth. Trusting had been what got him stuck but also what freed him. He could offer this human a bit more of it. “I-I really think I need time to recover. Sometimes it just… hurts.”
He looked down and you didn’t need to follow his gaze to get what he was saying.
Oh.
Oh.
That was what settled it. You nodded. But he had to put you on the ground.
You kept your expression firm and ignored his playful chuckle and the way he only pulled you closer with your words, because if he kept holding you, there was no way you would not fall asleep instantly and you both couldn’t afford that until he got to that safe place.
With a huff and a beginning of a pout he acquiesced and put you on the cracked floor, getting your point. He had to hide his snickers with his paw when you wobbled on the same spot for a second before eventually gathering your strength back, feeling a million times more tired.
Urg. Relaxing was a mistake.
“Don’t worry, it’s not too far from here. We will get there in no time!”
(...)
Took longer than he expected for you to finally lay down, but it was worth it. The place was one of the old dorms so there were a lot of pillows and mattresses thrown around, a few somewhat still holding a good condition for use. With the help of some furniture and moving around, you managed to barricade the door and build a sort of nest hidden in a farther corner so that it would be really difficult to notice through any window.
The human seemed ready to pass out at any moment, yawning and giving the door a last look, watching every creek and tear on the walls for anything that could be dangerous, even after all their previous care to make this place as safe as possible. Silly dear.
Dogday has always prided himself in being perceptive. Both because of the kids he once needed to watch and take care of and also because it’s important to notice and understand the details around your teammates so he would know when to help them.
(Old habits die hard, as it seems.)
And, yeah, maybe it had something to do with how long he spent without seeing a human or how he missed having someone (anyone-) who cared so much around. But he couldn’t really help to watch, prod and pick every little detail and gesture of yours around as if he was collecting flowers in a garden. Humans were so… expressive, and this one wasn���t different at all.
Angel was fierce and determined, going silently and non stop through the facility and all their objectives with a focused mind and precise movements. Their senses and general environmental awareness were good, too, catching hints and dangers just a second or two after Dogday himself caught them, which, considering their small ears and eyes, was an incredible feat.
Still, like a true angel, strength and kindness walked side by side with them. Dogday didn’t say that only because that person was the literal reason he was alive today, but simply because it was clear as water how much of a true softie you were inside. It was in the way they fired only around the small smile critters, avoiding to actually burn and kill them (even though he didn’t really know how he should feel about it), on how they carried and treated his wounds and how all their features - tensed, anxious and angry - softened everytime they looked at him.
It was on the way that they walked slower to accompany him, amusing his rambles with pokes of fun and interesting additions and in how each touch or word was filled with tenderness and respect. He didn’t feel like a toy with them like some old employers had made him feel before or a failure as… others made him believe.
So, his companionship was extremely captivating and maybe that was why it hadn’t been really hard to notice how the little tiny hints and actions came together to form a quite worrisome image of how disregarding about their own safety they were. Jumping into fights, crawling into dangerous, small spaces without thinking twice (he couldn’t get them there, if he needed he couldn’t get them there-), following strangers’ orders and running over cliffs as if their life wasn’t the thing that mattered the most and Dogday would always be there to catch them when they fell.
(What did they use to do when he wasn’t?)
Even now, he huffed as the human slowly took off the grabpack while still not even lowering themselves on the mattress or trying to get comfortable even though they seemed ready to slip into unconsciousness at any time now. Alert to the very last second.
It felt a bit nostalgic, if he was being honest. At least helping someone to go to sleep was a kind of problem that he knew how to solve.
With no further ado, he let himself fall on the soft pile with a ‘oof’, slowly rolling around the cleanest pillows they found and hugging the mattress as a loud, relaxed sighing fled from his mouth. His entire body seemed to untense with the unexpected comfortable feeling. How long had it been since he could just enjoy being surrounded by softness and safety like this?
His tail began contently thumping on the pile, another sigh leaving his mouth and making him forget for a moment his objective as he rolled more and more on the spot, the pure feeling of bliss taking over his senses until the sound of amused chuckles brought him back to reality.
He opened his eyes only to find an incredibly fond gaze looking right back at him. The absurd weight that haunted his friend’s shoulders seemed to have disappeared for a moment and, if he really concentrated enough on those kind eyes, it was like the rest of the world became unfocused. That is right! Dogday shook his head, as if cleaning it from his distracting thoughts. He had a mission to accomplish! Get the human to rest! No more fooling around!
“Hmmmm, It’s so, so, sooo comfy here!” Dogday controlled his voice so his playful tune wouldn’t show too much and give away his plan. He got a pillow and shoved his face on it just to highlight his words. “Like a kingdom made of clouds, where all the citizens get to lay down and rest all day, everyday and their favorite hobby is to cuddle and snuggle. Sounds like a nice place, don’t you think?”
You agreed, snorting when two expectanting lights turned around and Dogday patted the spot right beside him, only smiling bigger when you pretended to roll your eyes and finally, finally, laid down, barely touching the pile before your body crumbled the rest of the way.
It was… really soft. Even more than you expected from such old furniture but that could be the exhaustion talking. A relieved groan filled the place and before you could process that it came from your lips two arms came and carefully pulled you to a bunch of even softer fluff, which automatically made you snuggle closer, hugging the pillow (friend?) and relaxing, body aching with how much tension flew away from it so quickly.
A sweet voice said something in the background, but all of your senses melted together with your muscles when a hand began rubbing your back, drawing light circles on your spine and following it to your neck, briefly massaging it before going back to the back rubs.
That nice voice kept talking and you could briefly distinguish the words ‘deserve’, ‘rest’ and ‘good’ before the hand got a bit too close to your side and you giggled. The hand stilled but it was okay, it just tickled, that is all. No need to stop.
This was really nice, you kind of missed it.
You snuggled more.
All of it. It’s been a while.
As the darkness of the unconsciousness started taking you away, an amused, fond ‘aww’ was the last thing you heard.
(...)
You woke up with a scare.
Nothing necessarily happened, but your body immediately tensed, in alert. Blurry eyes traveled with speed around the room in search for any kind of movement, the silence helping to amplify the sound of any enemy that could be closer.
One second, two seconds…all you could pick up was the paused, calm snoring of Dogday still being deeply asleep.
Right. Safe. You were both safe.
You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, blinking rapidly to scare the sleep out of your sight as you looked up, mind finally getting time to grasp the memories from last… (night? hours? day? irrelevant). The quick beating of your heart started to slow down to a normal pace and you laid down again on the mattress, now wide awake.
Dogday was still sleeping. That was good. He deserved all the peaceful rest he could get after everything that happened.
And, to be honest, it was quite amusing to watch him sleep. Each time he snored his big ears flopped just the slightest bit around and from time to time those little muffled barks would appear on the back of his throat and his tail would wag a bit, not so different from a real dog.
(He truly was a marvel of science.)
At one time you could almost swear he said a name, but it was so low that you couldn’t quite catch it.
Beyond all of that, you couldn’t deny how right Dogday had been, resting really did wonders to your body and mood. You could feel your mind clearer and your muscles less stiff, even if still quite sore. Also, it was made in a rush, that is true, but the soft pillow pile really was comforting enough that it didn’t make it any easier to get up and go on about your day.
Still, as always, there was work to do. It really wouldn’t hurt to get up in the vents and walk around a bit to see if there was any murder toy wandering close so you could attract them away before they could interrupt Dog’s sleep.
It wasn’t anything really that urgent, however,… It felt weird not doing anything in this place, to deliberately choose to stay instead of to move. Letting your guard down last night had been literally the only thing you could do with how exhausted you were and having a trustful friend close by your side, but now? When you were more rested and nowhere close to the exit? The jittery feeling was already catching up to you.
You tried to get up, only to be stopped by an arm closing on your midriff, a nose being pressed on the top of of head and nuzzling it with care before a raspy voice - you really needed to find some kind of oil or toolbox to help with his voicebox, sometimes it felt like he was always with a sore throat - glitched for a half second before coming to life in a quiet, slurred “Angel?”
Good morning, sleepy beauty.
Dogday huffed in amusement. Silence washed over you both once again.
A while passed and no more words were exchanged. Uh, probably went back to sleep already. You tried to carefully extract yourself from his hold.
“Mm? What happened?” Dogday yawned, sounding a bit more awake this time. “Do we have to go?” He propped himself in one elbow, using his enormous height to peak over the hiding place and watch the door and windows, ears perking up in a search of any strange sound. “I’m not listening to any danger. This is a good spot.”
You agreed, feeling a tad bad that you woke up your companionship unnecessarily with your unrelenting thoughts. Nothing really happened, you assured, he could go back to sleep if he wanted. You could stay with the guarding shift.
Rubbing his eyes and yawning more, the sentient toy then changed his focus to you, noticing the slight drop in your tune, mind becoming clearer as he added to that detail the stiffness that went back in your shoulders. His brain tried to connect the dots.
“Did you have a nightmare, sunshine?”
No, not really.
“What happened?”
It’s all just… too much thoughts. You wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep like this, not without a distraction. It would be the best if you got something to do, so he could go back to his nap. It was fine, you would stay awake in guard.
“I see.”
He laid back down, however, instead of letting you go and immediately go back to sleep, as you expected, he began massaging your shoulders, mouth turning into a pout when that didn’t make you melt completely in blissful slumber like last night, but at least got some of the tension out.
Even if it felt like the human continued to hold onto every last drop of stress for some reason, refusing to close their eyes or fully relax. Knowing their current situation, Dogday could understand. But still, his friend should be able to enjoy this little chance of a rest that they’ve got. They were both so tired and finally had a good place to spend some good old lazy time without being worried about running for their lives or seeing nightmares at each blink of eyelids. It was not the best spot that the factory could once offer, of course, yet nowadays it was like a piece of heaven.
He wished he could help his angel to enjoy it. Yesterday they seemed so happy. But unless he could think in a good distraction…
A sudden thought then popped in his head, a memory from what happened the previous night. An idea.
Hm.
“Sunshine, do you like games?”
Games? Like… hide and seek or catch?
Dogday nodded, looking eager.
Yeah, you did. Even so, you don’t think that making up some ruckus will be good to keep up their hidden spot, well, hidden.
“No, no! This one doesn’t involve running or anything that could give up our location. Actually, you won’t even need to move from where you are to play it.”
Really? Well, it was worth a shot, then.
“Alright. Do you remember what happened when we found those old rags in one of the corridors a few days ago?”
Yes, you did.
You watched as Dogday chuckled, like he knew something you didn’t and, with a crooked eyebrow, you stared at him, trying to remember the mentioned moment better.
Nowadays his fur was no longer the bright orange that it once was like the old cardboards and tv episodes showed, but at least it got a resemblance of a cleaned state after using some good-enough rags you found on the way to one of the generators. You both did the best to take out the debris, dust and blood from him. It took longer than it should because the taller toy kept squirming and wiggling around in an adorable inescapable fit of giggles, not really being a big help as, in between his laughter, he kept claiming that it really, really tickled.
As a good friend, of course, you just grabbed the rag he let fall after a bit of lil cleaning on his poor ticklish tummy and racked both hands up and down his sides, scribbling away while he hid his smile behind hands, muffling his loud crackles. The cleaning didn’t stop there and hunted each tiny spot and slight hint of dust off him with plenty of scratches, prodding and drumming everywhere your hands could reach, catching all the titters, snickers and snorts that danced in the rhythm of your fingers. Your own giggles did not take much longer to follow them.
Dogday’s paw continued to run in a light touch on your back and suddenly a bolt of electricity jolted you up when your mind connected the memory of his playful demisse to what he just said.
Your eyes widened and his expression opened into a smirk, sensing the very same moment you got to the conclusion that you were about to get absolutely and utterly destroyed with tickles.
You tried pushing him away, one hand twisting behind to catch his wrist as the other hand fought to snatch his free one, which kept flying away from yours in a game of mouse and cat.
“Wait, angel!” He couldn’t help but laugh, especially as your movements got more and more uncoordinated the longer they kept this little game, even before he truly attempted to do anything. A wobbly smile was already taking over your face, only growing bigger when every swipe he did in your direction - only to be deflected by your hands - made your entire skin tingle and prickle in anticipation. Each adorable reaction only assisting in making Dogday more determined that he choose the right distraction. “Don’t you want to know about the game? I bet that you will love it! I used to play and win all the time so I can teach you every special trick of mine.”
No, no, no, no! You knew exactly what he was doing! There was no such thing as a game!
“Gasp!” You were sure that Dogday would be dramatically putting a hand on his chest if it wasn’t for the rough housing, but sudden noise was successful to break your concentration. He used his trapped hand to sneak a quick jab on your side, ripping out a delightful screech before you slammed your back again on the mattress, both hands now in front of you, no longer moving, yet still ready to defend and attack. “I would never lie to you, my beautiful, beautiful beacon of light, the only and one sunshine, my angel.”
He was not going to succeed in distracting you again with those sugary sweet nicknames! You knew exactly what he was doing and you wouldn’t let him get you.
“No, no, you got me wrong, angel.” Dogday booped your nose, seeming like he couldn’t control himself with excitement and a smug kind of joy that only grew the longer you both stared at each other, waiting for the moment to strike. His tail wagged and he pretended to lounge at your stomach, stopping inches before touching it and drinking the way that a squeal escaped from your mouth, body stuck into a position between laying down and curling on itself, giggles quickly filling the room. Actually, you could feel yourself getting giddier at each second, completely aware that there was no way for you to get out of this and no other option besides wait for the next attack.
The way that this thought only made butterflies go crazy on your belly should be illegal.
Dogday continued as if nothing happened. “This isn’t the game. The game only starts when I start to tickle you, silly! And it is called ‘Try To Not Laugh’.” He managed to waltz through your defenses, his index finger and thumb catching your side in a grip way too light to even be considered a pinch. It made you try to squirm with a snort to the other direction, as if he just had unleashed a ruthless attack of squeezes on the spot.
His grin glimmered and he let you go, chuckling. You could feel the phantom touch still.
(Why did his paws have to be so fuzzy!?)
“It means that you can’t giggle, squeal, snicker, chuckle, snort, chortle, shriek or laugh! No matter how much it tickles, itches or ‘feels funny’.” Dogday counted each reaction pulling up a finger and you tried to not let your face melt as he just kept talking, looking more and more delighted with how each word seemed to make you twitch on the spot, his paws clawing in your direction when he was done.
Before you could think, he went for your neck, fingertips barely, just the slightest bit, grazing the skin before you catched his wrists and pushed them away, scrunching your neck as tiny tickly sparks spread like fire across your nerves. A sound akin to a keysmash left your lips and Dogday looked like you had just given him the best news of his entire existence.
He tilted his head and watched his own captured paws for a piece of moment before shrugging. He continued on with his explanation.
“In turn I will try my true best to make you laugh. And that can mean anything! I can fill your entire cute neck with aaaaall the raspberries that it could ever want, wiggle my claws on your ticklish armpits, play your ribs like a very lovely piano, squeeze your sides non stop until you’re dancing around like a wiggly worm, maybe even give your tummy a few scratches and scribbles, or, or even better! I can play ‘This little piggy’ with your toes over and over again until your sweet laughter fills this entire room like the sweetest melody. And then we can do it all over but with you giggling and snickering ringing free the entire time! Doesn’t it sound like a fun idea, my angel?”
Oh, you were going to die. Whether he decided to tickle you right away or keep the teases for who knows how long, you don’t think that your face would survive being under so much heat for so long.
Besides, this is not fair at all! He will win it anyway, you couldn’t hold on your laughter forever while he t-, while he attacks you.
“Aww, but, sunshine, tickling is hardly an attack!” His face got closer and suddenly you realized that he did not need any free hand to accomplish his first promise of tickles.
With wide eyes you tried to roll away, but to do so, you would have to let his paws go, and you knew very well that the moment this happened, it would be a game over for you. For the way that Dogday grinned in your direction, he reached the same conclusion as well. “Also, I can’t even touch you, right now! I think you can win this.” Dogday wiggled his paws in your hold, as if proving his point.
With (an eager) trepidation, you watched as his face continued to get closer, prying a couple of titters when his floppy, fuzzy ears brushed your own ears. He chuckled at your reaction, a mix of fondness and playful, fake frustration painting his words. “Sunshine, you’re already giggling? I will have to take my last words back, then, I don’t think this game will last too long, anymore.”
Oh ho ho, he should just wait, because when you get him back you then he was going to see who was-
Dogday shoved his face on the crook of your neck and immediately began nuzzling the spot without a worry in the world, successfully cutting your threat short.
Wait! Wait!
“Don’t mind me, angel, please continue.” He huffed and puffed on the spot, shivers running in a hilarious cacophony across your every sense, almost ripping a squeal from your lips. Actually, just like his words hitting the skin, you could feel the way that snickers began pooling in your throat, waiting for any tiny chance to escape. You clamped your mouth shut, a muffled snort taking over. You were going to at least try to hold them in and try your chances at winning this childish game, for your own pride, if nothing else.
He didn’t have his paws to tickle, right? I mean, how bad could it really be?
Dogday hummed, each word vibrating on the skin in an almost unbearable manner, making you want to jump away and at the same time let yourself get lost in the sensations. “What were you saying, angel? Please, don’t stop because of me! You know I always love to hear what you have to say.”
You shook your head, partially in an attempt to somehow escape from the tickling and partially to dissipate the energy that was building up on your system. Anything to not focus on the snickers bouncing freely in your chest.
“No? Not a word? Aw.” You could feel the fake pout the sentient toy did right before letting his features go back to that dangerous, mischievous grin. “I have a question for you, then! Do you know what is the tickle puppy favorite’s fruit?”
You knew a trap when you saw one, so you kicked your legs, trying and failing to let out any protest because you were sure that if you stopped pressing your lips in a tight line for even half of a second, there would be no stopping from the waterfall of laughter.
“Raspberries!”
A shriek almost made you lose when he unleashed the first raspberry, more and more of them being quick to follow right after. On the base of your neck, your collarbone, under your chin and in every inch on the unprotected spot. There was nowhere safe from the awfully buzzing that made every other feeling disappear, seeing to tickle every nerve and making tingles to run crazy in absolutely everywhere. He even grazed the back of your ears with a couple of raspberries, cooing when you tried to shrink and hide the spot by pressing them on your shoulder, only succeeding to leave the other side of your neck completely free for more nuzzles and tickles, an opportunity that Dogday was fast to take, taking turns in bashing every side of your neck in a tickly attention.
Another quiet, muffled squeak painted the air.
Dogday lifted his head again, entire demeanor completely melting for a piece of time when he saw you (oh my stars, look at this amazing smile!) before that joyful light was back in his eyes. Once more, he tried wiggling his paws out of your hold, but your grip continued to be as firm as ever, your wobbly smile shining in a challenge.
Oh, you’re just so fun!
“Gasp! It seems like I am stuck! Oh no, angel, what will I do now?” His gaze then traveled to your stomach, and all the hints that softness had ever been present in his features instantly evaporated as his face became something more playful, even a tad devilish, with a hint of hunger.
“My, my,” you didn’t exactly know why, but his voicebox glitched, jumping between a light taunting tune and his usual lower one. “Is that a delicious tummy that I see? Poor thing, it must be so cold to be shaking like this. Well, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer any help, huh?”
Your friend was quite tall and kind of clumsy when he walked around, too. Now, how that clumsy toy was able to, in a span of less than a blink, take a gigantic breath and immediately attack your stomach with it was a true mystery that you didn’t had a lot of time to think about when your entire body took a screenshot for a long, long second, ticklish sensations exploding in a frenzy, before your entire torso instinctively beginning to trash, loud peals of laughter jumping freely on the tip of your tongue, begging to be free. They cheered in excitement and only grew stronger when other smaller raspberries took their turn to explore every spot, every sensitive creek or place of your stomach, breaking more and more of your barriers, little by little. It took every single ounce of strength to not lose the game right here and there.
Dogday didn’t even pretend to be holding back, anymore. Right as you survived another tiny raspberry that got way too close to your side to be an accident, a nibble appeared, catching you so out of guard that it made your arch your back, legs kicking with adrenaline. But the tickly, light nibbles weren’t diverted, intertwining with tiny raspberries in a mischievous dance that increased your internal laughing into a tenfold.
That was when one of them hit the spot closer to your bellybutton and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands let go of his wrists to push his stupid smiling - so proud and so bright - face away, body squirming and eyes crinkling on the corners with mirth.
“I am free!” He laughed, pretending to not hear the tiny low titters flying from your mouth as you regained your strength, taking the breather as what it was. His ears twitched with every cute little giggle and he kind of wanted to immediately go back to bash every sweet, soft spot in tickles you until that beautiful laughter was ringing loud and free across the entire room and that soft, relaxed state you were in became so much common that he wouldn’t see you stressed ever again.
But he was going to wait for you to rest a tadbit first, that was the main objective of their game, afterall.
Feeling calmer, you looked at your friend, who jolted in the same place, seeing to get out of a trance. He recovered quickly and lifted his paws, easily slipping into the tickle monster persona as he slowly clawed in your direction.
“Now that my hands are free, I wonder where I should attack next…” He looked thoughtful, slowly bringing his paws closer and closer to your torso, wiggly fingers softly scrapping the ticklish skin, but not really drumming on it, not yet. “Maybe I should try your armpits first? Aw, but you were so jumpy when I squeezed your side that one time! And you seemed really excited when I mentioned tickling your ribs… Ah! So many options, so many options… We will have to try every single one of them, of course. What do you think, my giggly angel? Which one do I tickle first?”
None! Absolutely none of them!
“None?” He tilted his head, knowing very well how cute he looked like when he did that. “But then … Oh! I see!” Dogday snapped his fingers and you were pretty sure that if this was a cartoon a lamp would appear shining right above that absolute, silly, mean, goofball. “You want me to tickle your legs!”
What!
At your wide stare and sputtering pretenses of protests his smirk turned sharp, which didn’t quite help the anticipatory bolts of electricity that suddenly left you feeling even more ticklish than usual, trying to curl and hide your legs but feeling him dig more on your torso every time you did so. He continued. “That is why you didn’t stop kicking and squirming the entire time I was tickling your neck and tummy, right? Aww, sunshine, if you wanted my attention so much, you could’ve just asked!”
That was literally not the reason at all! Dogday!!
He hummed in an answer, turning around and easily pinning your legs by holding your ankles down, his touch so gentle that you were pretty sure that if you really wanted and struggled you could escape from it.
(And if that didn’t make everything even more endearing, you honestly didn’t know what would.)
Without wasting any more time, Dogday started squeezing the sensitive spot right above your kneecap, skillfully jumping from one leg to another unexpectedly, digging on the skin and following your leg around with no problem as a new round of kicks started once again, keeping up with the tickling. The ticklish sensations made your head spin, tingles spreading across your muscles and teasing all the nearest tickle spots, leaving them prickling in anticipation and a funny kind of energy that made every nerve of your knees crazy as more and more squeezes and pinches continued unmercifully assaulting the spot non stop.
A sudden move and you yelped when your legs were lifted, his curious hand worming its way under your knee to lightly scratch the sensitive skin there. The touch was so incredibly fuzzy, so adoringly soft that the sudden change from the rough to light technique almost ripped a series of snickers from your throat without permission, the hilarity and urge to laugh taking over your every thought.
Dogday continued scribbling and drawing shapes, leaving a couple of pokes here and there just so he could listen to those delightful muffled snorts.
(He would really love to listen to them more clearly, though.)
“You really love this, don’t you, angel?”
You barely sputtered out an answer before being obligated to clamp your mouth shut, uncontrollable laughter making your shoulders bounce as he took the chance to crawl his fingers upwards to your thigh, skittering them there for a couple of seconds before spidering them right back to under your knees, repeating the cycle for a couple of times before mirroring them on the other leg.
“When I tickle you.” He scratched under your knee.
“When I tease you.” He squeezed your calf.
“When I fluster you.” He swiped at the space right under your toes.
“It’s really adorable!” His paw stopped right on your sole and he pressed it, firmly enough that it didn’t tickle, still, for some reason you couldn’t stop your smile from becoming even more wobblier, the giddiness growing stronger and spreading in your every cell just like the heat that seemed to take over your face.
“Especially because I can’t wait to hear aaaaall those cute giggles and beautiful laughter that you have trapped right there.” Suddenly, he raked his fingers up, from your heel to under the toes. A squeal filled the air. Dogday’s eyes shone, like an arrow findings the target. His fingertips curled, kneading on the skin. “That is why I have to apologize, angel, because I lied to you. That is a game that I just have to win.”
He then attacked.
It was less than a half of a piece of time, but suddenly your soles were being overcomed with scribbles, scratches and wiggling everywhere they could reach. There were digging fingers under your toes and a spidering that followed them to the pads, tweaking and scritching them all while curious pokes payed attention to the entire path of your arches, even if shouldn’t be possible for him to be tickling both places at the same time. Nevertheless, Dogday’s paw was so big that he was able to torment both of your feet at once while still holding them through all the resulting kicks those created.
And the teasing… Of course there was also the teasing.
“There we go! Oh my, oh my, look at you! You just can’t help being so adorable, now, can you? Awww, angel, you always get this… sweet expression when you are happy, so I like to call it your happy face! It’s delightful. The corner of your eyes gets all crinkly and your face gets all soft and your smile… your smile is the best part, it’s so bright! No matter the size or the time, it really feels like we have our own special rays of sun down here.”
He found a rather sensitive spot right above your heel and immediately concentrated on it with all his might, drumming and prodding there as if the salvation of this entire factory depended on making you laugh.
“That is why it was so easy to see how much you love tickles, sunshine. First when you were tickling me a few days ago and now. Since we started that game… you didn’t even ask me to stop and all while you simply never ceased looking so adorably full of joy like this! I could really spend the entire day just here, you know? Tickling you silly over and over again.”
That did it. The barrier broke. Loud peals of laughter were fished from your lips. Every sound and reaction filled the air in a frantic, unrestrained melody of mirth.
Now, with them flying freely in the room, there were uncontrollable, hysterical giggles when Dogday decided to knead your calves up and down, those only being taken down by an unstoppable crackling, painted with one or two snorts, as his paws wiggled away to squeeze right above your kneecaps, taking his sweet, sweet time to give the ticklish skin under it a few swipes before moving away.
Finally, he let your ankles go, both paws resting on your sides, unbothered by all the squirming and protests that this simple act created, drinking in every reaction with a so fond, so tender gaze that it bordered on dotingly as you got another break.
You tried to take big gulps of air, but everytime your gazes found each other, titters grew anew, distracting you and leaving you in a constant state of a silly, giggly kind of joy.
M-Maybe he should reconsider! You laughed already, he won the game! That should be the end of this, right!
Dogday chuckled, fingers tuttering in their spot, curling and uncurling slowly, content to feel the trembling on the skin under them.
“The end? But we just started! And you still got so much beautiful laughter trapped right here to show.” With his index finger, he highlighted his word by tapping on your belly, right in your bellybutton, ears perking at the screech this brought. “So many cute snorts and melodious shrieks that I would love to meet. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help to let them out, huh?”
A flow of words, more unintelligible than anything, fell off your lips. A mix of pleas, threats, high pitched giggles and some indistinguishable sounds that could only be considered a true keysmash rather than a sentence. Dogday hummed in agreement and nodded his head as if it was all a well constructed and understandable sentence.
“I knew you would eventually see my point, angel. You’re such a delight, you know, that?”
He smiled, so kindly and caring, and then he digged.
His paws, big enough to cover your entire midriff drummed non stop, squeezing the lower part of your stomach while scratching everywhere they could reach. He stayed there for a while before his wiggling fingers crawled up, scribbling and pinching your sides unmercifully. They looked for any weak spot, any lovely place that would make you snort and squirm away and latched there with pinches and kneading until your back arched, only then moving back to tickle your stomach until you went back to try to curl yourself in a ball, starting the cycle over and over again.
You felt almost high with laughter, the thought that it tickled, it tickled so so much and more than anything ever taking over your brain in sync with the loud, high pitched squeals and belly laughter (ha- Dogday would love that pun if you could say it to him) that chased after each other. After so much teasing, every tickle seemed to be accompanied by the brush of thousand of tiny phantom feathers that still tormented your stomach even when he moved away to your ribs, carefully pressing down on the bones and quickly scribbling with so much skill that it should be illegal the actual, loud crackle such a simple action created.
Your hands flied to hold his wrists, caught between pushing them away and pulling them close and, at seeing that, the sentient toy couldn’t help but feel himself melt and snicker fondly, barely controlling the urge to shove his face back on your neck and nuzzle and nibble the daylights out of it in a pure attack of cuteness. His tail was wagging so much that it dislodged a few pillows from where they were.
“Such a good friend. Such a cute, nice friend for me. For us.” The praises fell from his mouth naturally, your companionship too focused on keeping those happy reactions to really think too much about them. “You do so much to all of us, to me, and keep going above and beyond just to accomplish what you set your mind in. You’re brave and one of the strongest humans I’ve ever known. And there is so much kindness in you that I could talk the entire day about it! You saved me, you cared and tried and sometimes down here it feels like a nightmare but you… you make everything so much better, like a true angel. That is why I love this nickname so much. It really fits you.”
You tried to answer, to say how much especial, strong and essential Dogday was for you as well, but every time a single coherent word slipped from your lips he immediately reinforced his attack, fully aware that if you said anything sweet he would inevitably let his guard down and you would be able to turn the tables, and he really needed to say all of that to you before that.
His tickles were now focusing on keeping up the flow of starry laughter, watching them grow up to chortles and tune down into snickers as he scribbled in between each bone, keeping track of every special spot that pried a shriek from your lungs only to randomly attack it with prodding and poking, slowly fishing all kinds of joyful sounds that you could make.
He then buried his paws in your armpits, swirling the fingertips there for a few moments before digging energetically, fingers dancing and prodding every inch they could reach, which immediately made your arms come down with a loud chortle, head shaking and legs kicking at the sensation.
How was he so good at this?
Dogday gasped dramatically (not again-) and lightly pulled his paws in faux alarm, not really stopping his attack. “Oh no! Once more, you have trapped me!” Such a goofball. Such a silly, mean goofball and you could not wait to put your wiggly hands on and see how flustered you could make him be. “Dang, I really didn’t want to resort to this but I guess that I have no other option but to keep tickling and tickling and tickling on your poor ticklish pits forever and ever until the end of our days.” He then winked when he found your shining eyes. “But you would actually love that, wouldn’t you, my giggly sunshine?”
That was it. You were going to die. Right here and there. The playful tickles, the unrelenting teasing, the fond stares and gentle words… you could actually feel your entire body about to melt.
With a strength you didn’t even realize you had, you pulled your arms up to hide your flaming face, a pitched ‘eee’ sound mixing with the hysterical, absolutely uncontrollable laughter, your body rolling to the side and curling, shoulders bouncing with the force of each of your giggles.
Dogday let go of you, giggling together with your reactions, resting his hands on the ground and just observing, amusement and care clear as water in every trace of his features.
After a while, you felt a paw lay on your back, retracting for a bit when just that made you wiggle away, a new round of chuckles spilling, before it came back to rub your shoulders, touch kind and too firm to tickle. “Okay, okay, sunshine. I’m done. You can calm down for now.”
Laying down on the floor giggling yourself silly didn’t feel so embarrassing when Dogday’s own quiet snorts and snickers were quick to accompany you, especially since the rubbing really felt relaxing, making you melt on the touch bit by bit.
After a few minutes, when a comfortable silence had fallen on you both, you rolled on your back, finally being able to stare at your companionship without feeling like you would explode. Dogday smiled bigger at your direction. He lifted a paw to gently wipe a tear from your cheek, not thinking too much about it.
“That was so fun! I didn’t know you were so ticklish, angel. You are almost as bad as m-” He stopped right in his tracks when a gasp and a new string of titters fell like a waterfall from your mouth and you pushed his paw away, fastly rubbing your cheek so the feeling of fuzzy tickles would go away. It was like the softest makeup brush had just touched your skin, and you had no idea that just this could tickle so much.
Dohohogday! You sahaid you werehe done!
But your companionship didn’t answer. Astonished, he stared at his paw before looking at you again, gaze jumping from one to the other like he was watching a tennis match.
Suddenly his entire face brightened like the sun and he looked at you as if you had just said the funniest, most brilliant pun he had ever heard in his entire life.
“Aaaangel!” Every letter was bathed in pure, disbelieved delight.
No! You knew very well what that tune meant! No way! Nononono! Don’t you dare!
“Are your cheeks…”
Dohohogday! Don’t you come closer!
“Ticklish?”
Before you could push yourself from the mattress and jump away, there were two thumbs softly scratching on your cheeks, scribbling so lightly that it immediately made a giant smile take over your expression. Titters started to fill the air once more.
“Oh my… angel! This is adorable!” Dogday looked like he was about to bounce around the room with how much excited he was, his voice getting higher and glitching in excitement. “I can’t believe how fun and cute… You just… Ah, sunshine, I can’t help but!”
And before you could even blink, he shoved his smiley, stupidly fuzzy face right on your neck again, nuzzling there without a single worry in the world. His fingers kept tickling your cheeks, sometimes even slipping to tease the back of your ears with a few scratches as he giggled in joy since he could literally feel the rumbling of your snickers. They twirled and spun in the air for much minutes more until his tickly attack from cuteness overload was finally finished and you both just kept layed down on the comfy pile, cuddling in between content sighs.
Dogday listened to your calm breath, saw how relaxed your entire body was and, according to the few sneaky peaks he had, saw that happy, full of mirth, smile was still in your face, leaving him melting in contentment, entire body relaxing as well.
Perfect. His plan had worked.
Not that it was that big of a deal, but it had been such a long time since he had the opportunity to…
He was just glad that it worked. That he still got it in him.
(Being playful. Happy. Helping the others. Being there when they needed him. Matter when it was necessary. Being silly and fun)
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t sense the hand coming until it laid on his head, playing with the fur there and scratching on that place right behind his left ear that never failed to make him embarrassingly become a mush of pleased hums and wagging tail. A low, sleepy voice crossed the air.
You said you would take him out of here. It’s a promise, Dogday.
How his angel knew exactly what to say was a mystery to him. And, it didn’t quite hurt, but his entire being ached at those words. His smile was sad and he was glad that the human couldn’t see as he blinked quickly, eyes suddenly moisty. “Alright.”
There would still be some revenge when you woke up, though. Be ready.
And that reminded him so much of others playful, sleepy conversations he had before everything happened that it ripped a surprised laugh from him. He tried to look up to see the very much likely mischievous glint in his friend’s eyes, but a few more purposeful scratches turned him right back to a content puddle. He nuzzled the human a bit more. “Sleep well, angel.”
You too, Dogday.
(And sleep well they did. Lost in a peaceful rest as the entire world outside left them be.)
[~*~]
Random fun facts!
-There is a parallel I made by mistake between CatNap and DogDay and the whole 'trusting and following the being that saved your life'. It's not too deep and Dogday isn't as bad as Catnap but that was an interesting thing I noticed :D
-Different from the reader, Dogday is more used to the time down there so he has a good grasp when day and nights happens in general.
-I am actively ignoring the plotholes here about food and water here. Ya know when you have to poke holes in a lid so the bugs in the container can breathe that is what I doing kjhgfdfghyhgfd
-Nothing to do with the fanfic but I kept listening to this song when I was writing it and I think it's cute.
#Had so much writing this! It's been a good year and something since I wrote some good ol reader insert#xreader#Ticklish!Reader#Lee!Player#Lee!Reader#Ler!Dogday#Mentioned Lee!Dogday and Ler!Reader#poppy playtime tickles#poppy playtime tickling#wanted to say more on the tags but woke up sick so brain is fuzzy#Kanene's fic#Kanene's fanfic
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STAR WARS MASTER LIST:
Art
Anikan Skywalker
Obi-wan kanobi
Rex
Fives
Cody
Kanen+ Hera
Ezra
Ashoka (platonic)
#star wars#the clone wars#jedi#order 66#anikin skywalker#ashoka tano#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#captian rex#arc trooper fives#kanen doom#ezra bridger#fanfics
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Movie night
Warning: None, I think? Three friends just having a good time together ^^
Fandom: Epithet Erased
Description: Just a friendly movie night the Museum Trio with third-rate comedies
(Approximate) size: around 11k characters, actually?
Notes: Yes, yes, I also write, it’s just that I most often feel reluctant to translate it. This fanfic was written a year or two ago, but I decided to translate it with support @kanene-yaaay, so, thanks for that! Without you, I wouldn't have dared to do this!
~~~
It was Friday evening. And also exactly six months, one week and three days since Molly moved in with Giovanni.
She herself could not believe that everything went so smoothly: her father didn't particularly notice her disappearance, so he didn't look for her. And he was not at all embarrassed by the "overnight at a friend's" stretching for six months. Giovanni's mother, or Mrs. Potage (actually Blyndeff was surprised that "Potage" was Giovanni's real last name), quickly accepted that:
"Molly is Grandpa Frank's maternal aunt's great niece."
Giovanni himself, for some reason, left the Banzai Blasters. Molly herself didn't know the reason, but did not dare to ask. But he continued to call the girl by the nickname given to her back in the museum. In response, she sometimes called him "Boss", as then.
Also about a month ago, Dr. Ashling turned up. According to him, he recovered much earlier (fortunately, he was lucky to meet a person with the epithet “Treatment”), but Sylvester had too much to do, and could not find the time to finally call. The girl was pleased that he still kept the card she gave him.
Although, according to Ashling, he was confused when he called the number indicated and someoneб, who turned out to be Molly's dad, directed him to Giovanni's house.
Everyone was surprised then: Sylvie, who was met at the door by the former captain of the Banzai Blasters; and Giovanni, not understanding why he needed Molly; and Molly herself, who simply went to the living room to get a forgotten book, and in addition met Sylvie again.
That day they discussed many things. After that, Sylvester looked in on them from time to time, and no one really objected.
So on this Friday evening, they decided to get together and watch some movies.
Sylvie had not yet arrived, but Giovanni and Molly were already getting ready for the evening. Potage was sorting through cassettes, the old TV set refused to accept anything other than them. Blyndeff, with a gleam in her eyes, watched how a pack of popcorn was spinning in the microwave. After all, watching a movie without snacks is a crime.
Looking out from the kitchen with a bowl in her hands, the girl asked:
"How is it, Boss?"
"Great, Bear Trap," a smile beamed across the boy's face, "found a good movie for us!"
"This is cool."
Molly carefully sat down on the couch next to Giovanni, leaving the bowl on the coffee table.
"You're sure to like it," Potage handed the cassette to the girl.
"The Rock City Express?" puzzled, she read the inscription on the cassette.
"Yep, the best action comedy in our house," Giovanni smiled proudly.
"First time I've heard," Molly continued to look at the cassette.
"Oh, have you seen a lot of movies?" The guy sighed in displeasure, leaning back on the back of the couch.
"Honestly, not very," admitted Blyndeff.
"Oh, you want to talk about..."
Giovanni was interrupted by the doorbell.
"Finally!"
Potage got up from the couch and walked slowly to the door. Behind this, of course, was Ashling.
"You're late, Doc," Giovanni said snidely.
"I’m not," the guest immediately objected. "I am never late, I arrived on time."
The psychologist looked at his watch, which showed exactly seven o'clock and two minutes.
"Your watch is thirteen minutes late," Potage remarked.
"What?!" asked Ashling, looking intently at his watch.
"Or ours is in a hurry," said Giovanni, grinning from ear to ear. "Come in."
"How witty," Sylvester replied with a perfectly stone face.
But still he went. The already familiar living room, the old TV, all this was familiar to the doctor. Molly waved her hand happily in greeting.
"Hey, Sylvie!"
"Hi," Sylvie replied with a slight hesitation and waved back modestly.
Giovanni sat imposingly in the corner of the couch, Ashling squatted neatly in the middle, and Molly settled herself comfortably on the other side.
"Giovanni, can you put the cassette in?" asked Blyndeff.
"Of course, of course, my faithful minion!"
Potage took the cassette from the girl and inserted it into the receiver. He hummed softly, letting you know that he was still working. Giovanni returned to his seat, taking the remote control with him.
Meanwhile, the doctor glanced at the cassette box.
"Wait, what the heck is that?!" Sylvester grabbed the box and looked at the cover.
"What?" Didn't understand Potage.
"What kind of third-rate comedy is that?" Ashling said irritably, waving the box around.
"Doc, you don't understand anything about movies!"
Giovanni snatched the box from the doctor's hands.
"This movie is the best comedy in this house! I know it!"
"I'm sorry that this garbage of cinema is the best movie in your house."
Sylvester folded his arms across his chest. Potage was about to answer him somehow, but Molly got into their conversation.
"The movie begin."
The girl carefully pulled the popcorn bowl closer to her.
"Now you will understand how wrong you are, Doc."
"Doc" just snorted in annoyance and stared at the screen.
The comedy, although it was really third-rate, didn’t stop Giovanni from laughing out loud at every joke. From Molly, too, chuckles and giggles were heard from time to time. Ashling, on the other hand, was staring at the screen with an indifferent expression. He thought he was too intelligent to laugh at such bad humor.
“Personally, clowns don’t seem funny to me at all.” Heard from the TV. “To tell you the truth, I'm afraid of them. I don't even know when it began. Probably when I was taken to the circus as a child and a clown killed my father.”
Sylvester covered his grin with his hand. This joke wasn't so bad.
"What's the matter, Doc?" Potage asked, smiling, noticing the change on his friend's face.
"Hah?"
The smirk was quickly replaced by a bored face.
"Nothing."
"Oka-ay," drawled Giovanni, but the smile was still on his face.
With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the doctor continued to watch. Unless, after a couple of scenes, another phrase slipped through that caused Ashling to grin.
"HA!"
Potage shouted smugly, pointing his finger at Sylvie.
"Smiling! So not such a third-rate movie!"
Giovanni folded his arms across his chest and lifted his head proudly, still looking at his friend. Sylvie returned the bored face and said:
"It must have seemed to you. Because I didn't smile."
"You can't fool me."
Giovanni approached the doctor, looking him straight in the eye. And immediately pulled away:
"And Bear Trap saw everything, right?"
Molly looked up from the movie.
"Huh? I guess?"
"Yeah, she didn't see anything," Ashling drawled.
"So it means that there was something to see!" Potage announced triumphantly.
"Ah... Um..." Sylvester did not immediately find something to answer this. "She didn't see anything because there was nothing to see!"
"You're making excuses! Everyone who has done something is making excuses!" Potage argued.
"Those who did nothing also make excuses, by the way!"
"Yeah-yeah, but I've seen you smile and it's useless to hide it, Doc."
Giovanni nudged the doctor lightly in the side with his elbow. And, of course, a stifled squeak from this same doctor didn’t pass by his ears. Potage glanced at Sylvie with concern.
"Is everything okay? Do you have a bruise or something?"
He poked at the same place again, testing his theory. Which caused a traitorous chuckle from Ashling. Giovanni stared at the doctor in bewilderment, but, having thought of something, narrowed his eyes cunningly, still looking at Sylvie.
"And what was it?"
"N-nothing?" Ashling smiled uncertainty and looked away.
"Oh," Potage began conspiratorially, "I don't think so, Doc."
Sylvester slowly moved away from the guy until he crashed into Molly. The girl again was distracted from the film and looked at her friend with incomprehension.
"Something's wrong?"
To be on the safe side, she put the bowl of popcorn back on the table.
"Nothing," Giovanni repeated the doctor's words. "I just found out something new about our Sylvie."
Having said this, Potage abruptly jerked forward at Ashling, raising his hands. With cries, Sylvie and Giovanni fell on the couch. Molly stared at this picture, literally unfolding under her nose, in bewilderment.
"Get off me!" the doctor immediately yelled, pushing his friend away with his hands.
"Nope," Potage said contentedly, wiggling his fingers. "Until I check it out!"
"Check the wha…"
Giovanni didn't wait for Sylvie to finish, and began to run his fingers rapidly along his sides. At the same moment Ashling stopped short and covered his mouth with his hands. But even such efforts were not successful. Here and there a chuckle slipped through; It was amusing to Potage to watch these futile attempts.
Molly, looking at this, thought for a couple of moments and decided to continue watching the movie. Sylvie, at that moment lying at her side and trying to hide her laughter, did not bother the girl at all.
"Cut. It. OUT!" Ashling snarled through his teeth (and, obviously, through his hands).
He tried with all his might to restrain himself, to endure and wait until Giovanni simply got bored with this business.
"No way!"
But he doesn't seem to get bored of it.
Potage accepted this peculiar challenge and smiled confidently, continuing his attack. But deciding that if he continues in the same spirit, he will not see anything new, Giovanni changed his place, raising his hands higher.
At this point Ashling's defenses collapsed. Quickly dropping his hands in an attempt to hide at least something from Potage's attack, the doctor burst into laughter. It was different from his "sinister" laugh and was more... childish.
"S-stop!"
"I knew it!"
Giovanni smiled triumphantly. He had no intention of stopping any time soon.
"Bear Trap, just look!"
"Eh?" Molly looked up from the movie again. "Oh."
"Help," Ashling pleaded piteously through laughter.
Blyndeff looked at the guys. Well, for some time the Boss wasn't tickling her. And it even looked cute from the outside. But perhaps you need help...
The girl reached out for Giovanni's arms, as he declared:
"You'll get yours too, Bear Trap," a playful, sinister grin appeared on his face.
Molly jerked her hand away in fright. She didn't really want to be in Sylvie's place right now. But when she looked at them again, she sighed, preparing for the worst. Blyndeff knew what she would get at the end.
"Sudden attack!"
Molly screamed and jumped on Potage, falling off the couch with him. Without giving Giovanni time to realize what had happened, she herself, closing her eyes, began to tickle him.
"…It's not fair… …to use… …my attacks… …on me!" with difficulty keeping the connection between the words, the guy shouted, while not even really resisting.
"...To attack... ...without warning... ...is also not fair..."
The doctor tried to get his breath back. Well, he hadn't laughed like that in a long time. Ashling stared at his friends with blank eyes, thinking. While Sylvie digested what had happened, Giovanni turned the tables, and now he was taking revenge on the girl.
When Potage finally calmed down and helped Blyndeff to his feet, they finally took notice of the hovering doctor. Giovanni waved his hand in concern in Sylvie's face.
"Doc? Are you okay?"
Molly tapped Ashling gently on the shoulder. This brought him out of his trance and the doctor looked around absently.
"Eh? What?"
"You okay?" Potage repeated the question. "I hope I didn't go too far? Bring some water?"
Sylvester looked at his friend with his usual sarcastic gaze. The only thing with which Giovanni "went too far" is with feelings.
"I'm fine, not dying," Ashling declared, thus reassuring the others.
"I'm sorry," Potage scratched the back of his head guiltily as he sat down next to Sylvie. "But understand, I had to check it out."
Potage spread his hands, saying, "I couldn't do anything about it."
"I got what you mean."
Adjusting his glasses, the doctor moved closer to Molly and said irritably:
"Next time, let me breathe, you moron."
Potage nodded at first, not attaching much importance to Ashling's words. Then the meaning of what was said hit him.
"You mean 'next time'?" the guy drawled in puzzlement.
"And what is wrong?"
"I thought you were going to say something in your nutty way," Giovanni said, and mimicked that 'nutty way' by gesturing vigorously. " 'Don't touch me again or I'll strangle you!' "
"It's just that I know you're going to ignore it," the doctor snorted uncertainly.
"He wouldn't," Blyndeff broke in, "you know that."
Potage nodded again. Ashling involuntarily admitted that usually this guy really would not hurt someone. At least if asked. Accordingly, here Sylvester could simply ask not to interfere with him and, with a probability of sixty-seven percent, Giovanni would listen to him.
Then why didn't Sylvester do it?
"So you...don't mind, then?" A smile slowly spread over Potage's face.
"You know, I should probably go," Ashling said somewhere to the side, slowly getting up from the couch.
They didn't let him get up. The next moment, the doctor was enclosed in a general embrace, Molly stuck to his side, and on the other hand, Giovanni, like some kind of older brother, furiously ruffled his hair.
Only after a couple of minutes in this form, Blyndeff suddenly announced in an upset:
"Oh! I missed half the movie because of you!"
#Thank you for your attention and reading! And sorry for the grammar mistakes#fanfiction#epithet erased#molly blyndeff#sylvester ashling#giovanni potage
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Random Fanfic Idea
Merlin discovers that Morgana visits Hunith regularly in Ealdor after the death of Morgause because despite what Morgana did, Hunith is still grateful for the help Morgana had provided when Kanen attacked Ealdor.
#mergana#fic idea#because I won't be writing them#because unlike her son Hunith is not ungrateful and vindictive#it should be a bit angst and a bit one the comedy side because hunith doesn't see the evil in Morgana
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And the rain continued to fall
Kanene’s Notes: I have no idea what this is. No proofreeading, only feelings sedrtyuiooiuyt.
Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:
* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to Boku no Hero.
* Something around 600 words. -w-)b.
* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading! Eat a snack, enjoy the silence and that nice playlist, take a nap and drink water! Byeioo!~
[~*~]
“Are you really my angel guardian?”
“Yes.”
Shinsou hummed and didn’t move from his spot, fingers playing with the grass under them, the cold feeling of the light rain hitting his skin still making shivers run down his spine, the adrenaline of running from his house to this clear field on that abandoned place in the middle of the forest starting to wear off, the tiredness of his limbs and prickling of his skin only making the young boy feel more awake than he has felt on the whole month. His eyes couldn’t quite see entire constellations, since some trees cut his vision, but, damn, the few ones he saw were already enough.
Enough.
What a bittersweet word.
“And now what?”
The winged man, his guardian angel, observed him for some pieces of time before sighing, sitting at his side, one of his gigantic black wing spreading above them, ceasing the rain in the small perimeter where they were. Outside there, the rain grew stronger, and never stopped, but Shinsou felt gratitude either way. At least he was being protected.
(At least someone cared, even if that someone was a magical being that only he could see and listen to.)
“Now nothing.” The angel answered, staring at the trees. “But you should go back.”
“And what if I don’t?” Shinsou snapped back.
“Then I presume we would continue to sit here.”
As sudden as the anger came, it went away.
“We?”
Somewhere near a cicada screamed at the top of its lungs.
“Of course.” The black haired man brushed the confusion without fanfarre, not unkindly. His voice was quite low, and maybe, if Shinsou really listened to, a little bit of soft too. “I am your guardian angel.”
“And if you weren’t?”
“I am.”
“You’re dodging the question.”
“And you keep caring too much for hypothetical choices you didn’t choose and scenarios that didn’t happen.”
At this, Shinsou clamped his mouth shut, the arms hugging his legs closer. The magical being winced right when the words came out of his mouth. He wasn’t good with this whole comforting stuff.
But he was the only one with Shinsou now. He vowed to protect and take care of that kid in moment his first cry filled the world and he did not go back at his word, even if that meant fighting against the younger’s own mind.
“Would you want me to stay?”
Shinsou breathed. In. Out. His hand scratched his neck, tangling his fingers on his wet hair. In. Out.
He nodded.
“Then I would.” Larger hands overlapped his, untangling his harsh treatment of his hair.
Shinsou stared at him. “I am so tired.”
He was not talking about the dull pain of his legs, nor the way his brain seemed to want to explode from his skull, or even why his face felt wet even when the rain didn’t hit them anymore.
The other blinked at him, no pity, no fear, just black eyes looking at him. Somewhat, that make things a bit better.
“Then rest.”
“In the middle of nowhere?” A barked laughter.
“Walking to any other place would be a waste of energy.”
The laughter grew stronger. “Are you telling me it would be illogical to not take a nap?”
Rolling his eyes at the implication of his human’s words, the other flicked his forehead, pretending his own lips weren't twitching upwards in a small grin. “Cheeky brat.”
Then his other wing opened, invitingly.
Shinsou got closer, basketing on the warmth.
For a moment everything was quiet.
“What is your name?”
Words fell from his mouth before he could even think about them, a name choose before, much before he knew what was the true duty of taking care of a life was. “The Silent Guardian: Aizawa Shouta.”
“Lame.”
“Go to sleep, Shinsou.” He remarked, not unkindly. Shinsou hummed.
On the sky, the stars started to become blurry and yet shinier.
“Thank you.”
Aizawa hummed, carrying his fingers on the wild, messy hair of the one he vowed to take care of.
“I will protect you.”
Somewhere in the world the Sun began to rise, waking people to their challenges. However, right here, where Aizawa closed his large wings, covering them in warmth and not really the softest, but soft enough feathers, the moon had yet to hit its highest point in the sky.
#I am not sure what tags to put here#Comfort#Fluff#a lot of subtle things#magic beings#Angel guardian#Aizawa Shouta#Shinsou Hitoshi#Hurt/Comfort#Kanene's fic#Kanene's Fanfic#Kanene's Art#<333#I really liked to write this#oneshot#bnha#Boku no Hero fanfic
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Day 26 & 27: Haunted House & Death Spot
Logan and Virgil visit another place, only it's an asylum this time! And when Virgil gets too scared, Logan (And a few others) start to calm him down.
For @kanene-yaaay
This fanfic is for Shannon too! You know who you are~ I hope you like it!
Logan and Virgil jumped into a window and landed inside the really dark abandoned building. Quickly, they turned on their flashlights and examined the rundown, cluttered place.
“Whoa...This place is really old...And fairly scary.” Logan admitted.
“Y-You think?!” Virgil yelled.
“Are you scared already?” Logan asked.
“We-we’re in an asylum man! Of course I’m freaked out!” Virgil reacted.
“Awww, muffin.” Logan teased.
Virgil punched him in the arm. “Shut up!”
Logan laughed at him and rubbed his arm.
Virgil was right: They were in an asylum. The asylum had little kid’s pictures on the walls, tables for the people to sit on, and more. It was so creepy. Virgil came across a little kid’s drawing of a house, and couldn’t help but tear up. These kids were probably desperate to go home. What a life to live…
“Hey Logan…” Virgil walked up to his brother. “How much do you wanna bet this kid missed home?” Virgil asked.
“Potentially a lot.” Logan replied.
Virgil put the drawing down on the table and looked around at more of the drawings. There were so many!
“One of these kids drew an airplane.” Virgil told him.
“Well, there is an airport nearby.” Logan mentioned.
“Really?” Virgil asked.
“Yup. It’s an old one.”
Virgil nodded and looked out the window they climbed through. “Is this place haunted?” Virgil asked.
“Potentially...I don’t quite know. I assume it will be quite haunted, considering its history.” Logan told him.
Virgil looked around the room again, and noticed a dusty music box. He walked up to the music box, and picked it up. It was quite dusty, so he dusted it off and blew the dust off it. He had to close his eyes to prevent any of the dust from coming into his eyes.
Virgil spun the music box lever, and watched the little bar spin clockwise in the music box. The song was a rendition of the Muppets song ‘Moving right along’. It was really cute looking.
He started singing the song to the melody that played, and smiled a little. Someone must’ve loved the Muppets.
But suddenly, a woosh of wind moved by him, and the music box’s glass shattered into a million pieces! Virgil quickly dropped the music box, and dusted off the glass shards. “Oh man…”
“What happened!?” Logan asked, removing the glass shards from his shoulders and kicked the still-spinning music box away from them. “You could’ve cut yourself.” Logan told him.
“It wasn’t my fault! Some wind shattered it!” Virgil told him.
“Uh huh…” Logan muttered.
“It...It’s true!” Virgil told him.
“I know...I know.” Logan told him. “Wind does that all the time.” he said with a smile.
Virgil frowned. “You don’t believe me at all.” Virgil told him.
“No...No I don’t.” Logan chuckled.
Virgil growled and started kicking the music box till the music box car fell off.
“Hey now...No need to be all spazzy about it. It’s gonna be fine.” Logan told him.
“IT HAPPENED, LOGAN!” Virgil shouted.
“I know, I know! Okay?! It’s fine!” Logan reacted.
Virgil started to calm down and moved onto the rest of the asylum.
The asylum was covered in dirt and soot, and also had overgrown trees growing in the windows. There were also lots of weeds growing in the cracks between the tiles, and vines growing on the walls.
“Hey Logan, how would you feel-” Virgil had turned around and widened his eyes. “...Logan?” Virgil asked.
Virgil looked around the haunted house and looked for Logan. “Loooogaaan!” Virgil called.
Suddenly, something grabbed him!
Virgil SCREAMED and turned around. “WHAT THE- Logan!” Virgil hugged his brother.
Logan giggled and gently punched Virgil’s arm. “I scared ya! I gotcha!” Logan teased.
“Ow- Yeah, you did.” Virgil admitted.
“It’s okay. It’s alright. I promise.” Logan told him as he started to tickle him.
“Yeheheah- Hehehehehey!” Virgil laughed.
“Hey what? Hey that tickles? Well I know it tickles. I can hear you clearly laughing.” Logan told him.
“STAHAHAHAP! WHYHYHYHY HEHEHERE?!” Virgil asked.
“Because you’re all spooked and you need to calm down a little.” Logan told him.
“IHIHI DOHOHO NAHAHAHAT!” Virgil argued.
“Well, you kinda do.” Logan told him.
“DOHOHO NAHAHA- BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHE AHAHARMPIHIHIHITS!” Virgil shouted.
Logan frowned in confusion. Armpits? Logan wasn’t tickling him on the armpits...He was tickling his sides. And the sides aren’t even close to his sides!
“What do you mean ‘not the armpits’?” Logan asked.
Virgil was squealing and squeezing his arms against his chest. “THAHAHAT- THAHAHAT’S NAHAHAT YOHOHOHOU?!” Virgil asked.
Logan removed his hands. “No! No it’s not! Look! No hands!” Logan showed him.
Virgil opened his eyes enough to see that Logan was telling the truth.
Wait...If Logan wasn’t tickling him, then WHO?!
“WHOHOHO’S TIHIHICKLIHIHING MEHEHEHE THEHEHEN?!” Virgil asked.
“I have no idea.” Logan admitted.
Suddenly, Virgil was floating up in the air! Logan gasped and just about screamed! But, he quickly placed a hand over his own mouth. Virgil was actually floating and being tickled! This was an actual thing that was happening! What in the world-
“HEHEHEHELP! IHIHIHIT’S SOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAD!” Virgil begged.
Logan widened his eyes more. Oh no…They’re tickling him way too much!
“Hold on, I’m coming!” Logan grabbed a nearby stick and started swinging it around Virgil. But the stick only hit the thin air.
But suddenly, Logan felt something pick him up by the waist, and start tickling him on his side.
“Ohohoho! Thihihis ihihis sohohoho weihihihird!” Logan reacted.
“IHIHI KNOHOHOHOW! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Virgil laughed.
Logan giggled and shook his head as he felt the shoe laces get untied. “NAHAHAT THEHERE!!” Virgil shouted.
Logan dropped the stick and tried to reach for the ghost. But of course, that didn’t work. Again, he only hit thin air.
The ghosts reached up to Logan’s armpits, and started tickling there! Funny thing, Virgil and Logan have one tickle spot in common: The armpits.
“BAHAHAHAHAHA! EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Logan laughed.
“AHAHARMPIHIHIHITS!?” Virgil asked.
“YEHEHEHES!” Logan replied.
“IHIHI KNEHEHEHEW IHIHIHIHIT!” Virgil told him.
“HEHEHEHEHEHELP! HEHEHELP UHUHUHUHUS! IHIHIHIT’S SOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLIHIHISH!” Virgil shouted.
“PLEHEHEHEASE HEHEHEHELP!” Logan begged.
Virgil kicked his feet harder and harder, as if hitting the ghosts was possible and easy to do. Logan was flailing his arms all over the place, hoping to hit something or someone off him.
“HEHEHEHELLOHOHOHO?!” Virgil called.
Suddenly, something began to tug on his shoe! Virgil tugged and tugged on it, hoping the ghost would let go. But it just wouldn’t!
“OHOHO NOHOHO! NAHAHAT MYHYHYHY FEHEHEHEHEET!!” Virgil begged.
“NAHAHAHAT HIHIHIS FEHEHEHEET! HEHEHEHE’LL DIHIHIHIE!” Logan begged for him.
“IHIHIHI’LL DIHIHIHIHIE!” Virgil told him.
Logan tried to push the hands out of his armpits. But all he could feel was air. Only air.
“IHIHIHI’M BEHEHEHEGGIHIHING! LEHEHEHET GOHOHOHOHO!” Virgil begged.
Finally, the shoe made a smack sound on the ground, and a ghost started to tickle Virgil’s foot. Virgil SCREAMED and completely went silent.
“STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT! HEHEHE’S DYHYHYIHIHIHING!” Logan begged.
All of a sudden, the tickling stopped. It completely stopped. No more tickling. Virgil was still giddy after being tickled so much. Logan was really giddy too. He couldn’t stop giggling if his life depended on it.
“Ihihihi...Thahahahanks.” Virgil told him.
Out of nowhere, a finger started drawing on his back.
“Y-o-u-’-r-e w-e-l-c-o-m-e” was what it said.
Virgil smiled and looked behind his back. “I’m Virgil.” virgil told him.
“Who are you talking to?” Logan asked.
Another ghost walked up to Logan and wrote a message to him.
“M-e”
Logan widned his eyes and...smiled.
“Nice to meet you...I suppose.” Logan reacted kindly.
N-i-c-e t-o m-e-e-t y-o-u t-o-o” The ghost wrote.
“I’m Logan.” Logan told him.
Then, both ghosts started writing something on both backs at the same time;
‘T-i-c-k-l-e t-i-m-e”
And then the tickling started up all over again…
Because this is also the 27th, there will be no tickletober fic tomorrow. Though, I might upload a fic that's unrelated to tickletober anyway.
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I recently discovered your blog and its theme is so comforting and your art and fics are amazing <3 i'm fairly new to the community and I'm currently obsessed with My Hero Academia. I wanted to know if you'd e willing to reccomend some of your favorite tickle fanfics for that fandom to me?
Hey there!! Aaaaah thank you so much, they bring comfort to me too 😊❤ Welcome to the fam!
Oh man, where to begin? There's so much good content out there. I'll start by listing some of the blogs I follow that make MHA content (though keep in mind most of these aren't MHA-centered), so you can check them out!
@intheticklecloset
@inconveniently-placed-cactus
@august-anon
@rosileeduckie
@duckymcdoorknob
@kanene-yaaay
@kiyachi-tickles
@volleeball-bo
@made-by-jade-222
@veryblushyswitch
@heyoitsgenderconfusion
@rareficsnstuff
@chockfullofsecrets (doesn't write for MHA anymore, but the stuff they have written is wonderful)
Now for specific fics - sorry this is kind of messy, lmk if someone has an idea of how to better format it lol
@ticklishscumbag: Strawberry Milk (kiribaku) / So Intriguing (Todoroki & Bakugou) / Patterned Socks (shindeku)
kiyachi-tickles: At My Mercy (shindeku)
chockfullofsecrets: Bedridden (Midoriya & All Might) / Big Brother, Little Brother (Iida & Sero) / Having Fun (Midnight & All Might) / Underhanded (Aizawa & All Might)
@eleiidayy: Even Now (Midoriya & Iida) / Stop Breaking the Rules! (Iida & Bakugou)
intheticklecloset: Shirtless (kiribaku) / Say Mercy (shindeku) / Some Kind of Way (shindeku) / Get Some Sleep (Midoriya & All Might) / Restless (Midoriya & Iida) / Pizza Party (Shinsou & Ojiro / Villains Don't Giggle (dabihawks) / Ten More Minutes (bakudeku) / Give Up, Kacchan! (Midoriya & Bakugou) / Sensitive Wings (dabihawks)
rareficsnstuff: A Good Mentor (Shinsou & All Might) / Babysitting (Shinsou, Mirio, Eri)
duckmcdoorknob: Can I Offer A Little Help? (Midoriya & Mirio) / Guilty Pleasures (bakudeku) / In the Still of the Night (bakudeku)
made-by-jade-222: Family Fun Night (erasermic, Shinsou & Eri) / Everybody Tickle Dad! (Class 1A & All Might) / Shy Butterfly (miritama) / The Cowardly Lion's Crush (Amajiki x Reader)
inconveniently-placed-cactus: Crush (kiribaku) / Responsibility (Midoriya & Iida) / Smile For Me (bakudeku)
@otomiya-tickles: Red Riot Hour (kiribaku) / Hoodie (dabihawks) / Special Training: Aizawa; All Might
rosileeduckie: Tie Me Up In Knots (kiribaku)
@hereforthefluff: What was that? (shindeku)
@impulsively-made-tickle-blog: A Coin For A Coin (kiribaku)
@spritewrites: laundry day (kiribaku)
This feels like it's barely even scratching the surface, and I'll probably keep adding to it the more fics I think of, but hopefully this will suffice for now! I'm actually glad you asked, because I've been meaning to make a list like this for a while now. And now I have some of my favorite fics in one place :) Enjoy!
#flame rambles#long post#shoutout#shoutout post#fic recs#bnha#mha#my hero academia#ask#asks#anon ask#flame answers#not sure how else to tag this lol#reference#reference list
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⭐star⭐, please! Ur fanfics are a bless! 💛💛
Thanks, kanene! 💕🥰 Your interactions are a bless!!! And thanks for the ask! Author's choice it is!
In the same vein as the last ask, I'm picking one of my partner's favorite pieces of mine to talk about 🥰
Eyes Only For You was a piece I wrote for Tickletober last year, and I really liked it. This is one I come back to a lot.
When I write, I try to hold onto certain images or phrases to carry through a piece. I don't know if that makes sense exactly, but I say it to give context to the fact that this piece has a focus on eyes, when it originally had a focus on ears, based on the snippet that Carlos likes when Cecil strokes his ears. You can imagine where my mind went after hearing that 😋
My partner and I talk a lot about the media we like, so a lot of my ideas come from her, and one of our conversations came to the conclusion that: Cecil has multiple eyes (which is insinuated by the show itself) and that those eyes are in the forms of tattoos that move. I loved the idea so much that I ran with it. (I have an upcoming WTNV fic in the works, also based on conversations with my partner, that we're both excited about. If anyone has any songs we could use for the weather, I'd love to hear them 😁)
The hardest part of this fic was writing choreography, which always happens when extra limbs make an appearance. I'm never sure if I'm being clear.
The part of this fic I most enjoyed was the subtle fantasy elements. Like, I love how weird WTNV is and how that weirdness is normal for the people that live in that world and for us as listeners the longer we listen. So Cecil having this part of him that would be so magical that is just as normal as having an arm or a nose was a very fun thing to write. ☺️
~*~
Wanna read the fic I discussed here? Do it!
Want to hear me talk about the behind the scenes of another fic of mine? You can do that, too!
#kanene-yaaay#ask#answered ask#ask meme#fic ask game#directors commentary#directors cut#it is hecking storming right now#i am anxiety
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Honestly. Your fanfics are so, soooo great!!! I really luv how amazing and in character your scenarios are. 💛💜💞💞💝💙💕💛💙💝❤💜💚❤💛
Kanene why are you so sweet 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺
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He started it!
Kanene's notes: I think my brain is no longer able to grasp what a 'quick, small fic' is kjhgfdfghjjhgvjhgf somebody this was supposed to be just a small drabble but the cuteness broke me. Somebody save me from the Dogday brain rot please somebody save me...
But anyway! Can't say when I will be able to post again, college just started and so my days are going to be very full :') Still! Hope you all like this!
Warnings: Plenty of raspberries, nibbles and teasy nicknames. Around 3,500 words. Ticklish!Dogday and Ler!Reader. Other than that, nothing, this is pure tooth-rooting fluff. Rip da boi. Also! Once again, I'm obsessed w Felix's writing style where the dialogues and narration are mingled together so all the hugs and thank you's to her :D
[~*~]
Dogday had started it.
Of course it was him. Just like a ray of sunshine, your own personal star, shining and chasing the dark shadows away, he did and now there was no other way this could’ve played out.
“A-angel, please!” His voice glitched, getting lower at the end of his plea, however immediately growing higher again as giggles began filling the space, crackling and buzzing in both despair and delight. “Think about what you’re about to do!”
You hummed and smiled at his squeal, fond and sweet and absolutely devilishly as you remembered how this entire game began.
Every single corner of this factory was dangerous. Even so, there were hostile places where any kind of sound, whisper or even a poorly suppressed gasp could attract the worst kind of attention and immediately break in pieces the fragile peace that warily followed you and Dogday in your path. At the time, you both had been walking through one of these areas for far too long, bathed by complete silence, careful to keep your steps silent and with an alerted kind of tension clinging to your form with each passing second.
That was when, for some reason, Dogday decided that enough was enough. It was his moment to shine.
Where even did the idea come from? Has he been bored?
“You just seemed so stressed!” His tail was wagging so much you could feel the wind it created hitting your legs. An involuntary coo left your mouth at the playful, a tad proud glint in his eyes, which only made his smile bigger and loopier. He tried to tug his hands away to hide his face. Needless to say, it was an unsuccessful attempt. “No, no, no! Don’t!”
Anyway, it had been confusing at first. When the giant sentient toy turned in your direction, making fingerguns with his paws and pretending to be firing at something, you immediately spun around in a quick and swift movement, grabpack and firing hand ready to attack pointing in the same direction as him, eyes searching for the danger he was gesturing.
… Stopping to think, he did almost laugh at you that moment, didn’t he? You bet that if you both didn’t have to conceal any and every sound his crackles would’ve rang free and joyfully across the whole factory.
You took an exaggerated deep breath and blew slowly in a faux disappointment, feeling his muscles under you tense and shake with barely concealed titters, a tiny protesting half whine and half plea flying around, his torso squirming.
(Away or closer to the sensations? Both of you knew the answer very well.)
Tsk. You hummed again, only to hear that adorable squeal once more. It took everything to not let him go and dig, to listen those high pitched squeals over and over again and see how many of them you could collect, letting them dance in harmony with his glitching laughter and rumbling chuckles until happiness and joy were the only thing filling his mind and actions, until his smile were wide enough to light up the dark pathway ahead and each tiny, almost imperceptive wiggle, scribble or twitch of your fingers was followed by the lovely, lovely melody of his tickly delight, prompting more and more expectant titters and pleas without you even having to lay a single finger on him.
But the game couldn’t be over so soon. And it was quite fun to see how much giggles you could get even though you weren’t actually doing anything.
(Yet.)
So you pushed down the adoring smile that tried (again) to take over your features and let it morph into a sad expression, slowly shaking your head in a fake disappointment.
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such a good friend and he almost laughed at you like that… After everything you both have been through, after all the fights and the talks, the hugs and the vents… You see how that is.
“P-please! Angel, just, please!”
No. Nuh-uh. You went back to your previous position, shoving your face in that soft fur. Don’t start with the sugarily sweet nicknames. You were brooding. Moping. Sad. Devastated. Betrayed. In absolute and total pain. There was no angel available right now, please return later.
His only answer was a series of even more glitched squeaks and titters growing stronger and giddier at any second with your silliness, especially when his body involuntarily jumped, already in alert for any attack and still not doing anything to scramble away.
That could be your fault, but in your humble opinion, it wasn’t very clear. Okay, maybe he couldn’t just bring himself to stop and stand still when you kept using every opportunity to nuzzle and mumble on his belly non stop, easily following his torso and quivering stomach around as he wiggled and squirmed in the same place, trying with all his might to not lose himself already with all the ticklish shocks that bolted across his entire midriff with such a simple action. Words (and teases) continue to fall like waves from your lips.
Maybe he just had been bitten by an awful ticklybug! Who would know?
“There is no tick-” Dogday gasped and snickered when you blew air against his fur again, freezing for a second in preparation for a raspberry that didn’t come. Realizing that, he let his head fall on the floor and trashed even more. He tugged his arms again, playfully growling when you kept your hold firm on them and wiggling even more as he turned to stare back at you, a funny kind of energy and antecipation racing each other in his nerves. “There is no ticklebug! It’s you!!”
Oh well.
A pity.
Anyway. Back to the story. That had been how everything began. He later explained his idea for the game, when you were able to exchange words again. From that moment, in total random occasions, one of you would make a gesture in the other’s direction and they would have to quickly react to it. In the most silly and unexpected way, preferentially, as long as you didn’t make any sound while at that.
See, Dogday? No sound.
He yapped in protest, letting out a single surprised, an offended yelp at the accusation. “We don’t need to be quiet here. You’re just teasing me!” Dogday’s hands fell to his sides, no longer trying to pry you away, shoulders shaking with every giggle and eyes watching your every action with joy and expectation.
You keep going.
The playful exchange became a habit between you two at this point, even filling the moments you didn’t exactly need to be quiet. It was a nice way to interact when there were no more words, memories or promises to be exchanged. That is why Dogday didn’t even bat an eye at you when you called his attention by innocently offering both of your hands in his direction, tail lightly wagging as he immediately placed his own paws on yours, a fun, tiny grin appearing on his previously serious and protective expression when you intertwined your fingers.
Which quickly morphed to a wide stare when you locked your grip and jumped on him, bringing both of you to the ground.
So, yeah, Dogday was the one who started it. And now he was trying to shoot his shot again, pulling out the saddest, sweetest puppy eyes in your direction.
“Angeel, please. Mercy!”
Awww.
(That was a bit adorable, you couldn’t lie. It kind of melted your heart. Just a tiny, little bit.)
(Ok. A lot.)
But that was the thing, Dogday, you were being merciful already. Because if your hands were free, you would give him the entire special attack. You would just claw and knead on that cute, truly adorable tummy, taking some precious time to give your attention to his sides and all the scribbles and scratches to his ribs, being sure to go and tickle aaaall of his favorite, ticklish spots over and over and over again, for as long as he wanted.
Wouldn’t that be nice? And, of course, during this your hands would be very, very busy, so he would have to keep his arms nice and snug out of the way. But he could do this for you, right? Even if he was laughing and squirming and crackling his heart out, not even pretending to not love every single moment of this game, or that he wanted it to be over any moment soon.
“Eek! Wait, wait!”
You grinned. See? That was what not being merciful would be. But, stopping to think, those are not bad ideas at all. He really couldn’t stop getting any more adorable, could he?
“Sweetheart!” He squeaked and shook his head, partially in a way to disperse all the restless energy taking over his body and partially in a hopeless attempt to make his big ears cover his flaming face.
Oh.
(It was quite endearing, actually, how he didn’t exactly blush. His smile would get wobblier and the light in his eyes fuzzy and lightly trembling all while he couldn’t decided if he tried to hide his face or kept staring at you with a gaze so full of complete trust, an excited desperation conquering all his features… Honestly it was just as crystal clear as if his face got completely taken over by a strong shade of red, truly.)
Your entire demeanor softened. That nickname was a new one.
(You wouldn’t mind listening to it being giggled out like this again in the future.)
You decided to return the favor.
Yes, gigglebug?
For a piece of time, Dogday froze with wide eyes and a slight ‘bzzz’ sound escaped from his voicebox. Then his squirming grew anew, no longer being able to look at your soft gaze and trying to press his dazzling, gigantic smile on his shoulders, now with his entire body bouncing with barely suppressed snickers.
His tail hit the floor with an endless and quick pace of ‘thump thumpthumpthump’. The confusion in your expression immediately gave place to a wicked smirk.
Hm.
Gigglebug?
He jolted with a yelp.
Silly giggly gigglebug?
Dogday snorts and tries to pry his hands away from yours with a bit more energy than before. Still, his efforts were still half heartedly at best. In turn you just hold them a bit tighter, thumbs lightly rubbing the back of his paws as your tipped your head to the side, - not unlike he himself watched you from time to time - chasing his gaze and maybe or maybe not giving his belly a tiny - so quick and small that it was over in less a blink - nibble until he turned back to watch you with wide fuzzy eyes.
Nope. No hiding that beautiful smile, huh?
His ears perked a little bit and his wide eyes captured yours for a moment, then jumped to your kind hands, your amused, playful glare, his defenseless belly, his captured paws, your suspecting eyes and, eventually, your eyes again.
Then, without breaking contant, he shut his mouth, firmly pressing his lips in a tight line as he lowered his head to his shoulder, successfully hiding, indeed, that beautiful smile.
Ah.
You see how that is.
Dogdayy ~
He let out a muffled giggle, only pressing his face even more on his shoulder, turning away from you.
Well, since he was insisting so much…
You discreetly adjusted your position, took a deep breath and immediately attacked his lower belly.
His entire torso spasmed, almost throwing you out of him with the sudden move, a loud peal of laughter instantly filling the air as the horrible, awfully ticklish vibrations fuelled his trashing, the raspberry spreading across every single of his nerves, leaving each and every one of them tingling and buzzing.
Another deep breath. Another long, long raspberry and a crackling squeal was ripped from his voicebox, more and more following suit as you chased every sensitive path of fur non stop, not losing a single opportunity to shake your head to increase the sensations, giggling a bit at how that never failed to glitch his words and bring more squeaks to the lovely melody of his laughter.
You spared a couple of tiny raspberries for his sides, literally feeling how they made him arch his back. That only gave you even more access to plenty of sensitive, ticklish spots that you were more than happy to latch on and tickle as if the future safety of the entire world depended on sending him to a total madness and increasing your collection of “cute-sounds-that-Dogday-does”.
You experimentally began nibbling that spot that connected his back and side, right below his belt, if you were not mistaken this would…
Snorts took over the giant toy and in a blink his back immediately clued back on the floor, torso trying and failing in curling into a defensive ball. The new round of raspberries vibrated across his side and teased his entire ribcage, tickling each bone and nerve.
Dogday tried to muffle his reactions on his shoulder, but with each nibble, each raspberry, tease and nuzzle he felt his mind getting more and more overpowered by the realization that it tickled. It tickled so, so, so much and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when his face seemed to be set aflame and his entire body kept getting closer and closer from giving up completely from his squirms and wiggles to let himself succumb to the joyful, insane, funny and fun sensation. Not when his angel kept looking at him with so much amusement and fondness that only succeeded to make him feel even more ticklish and the fact that his giggles weren’t the only ones filling the room made him feel extra silly and made his heart melt with delight. When he was able to just laugh and squeal his heart out, carefree and loud and happy.
How could anyone blame him, then, when he saw with the corner of his eyes you lift your head and so he decided to push his luck more, continuing to hide his big, gigantic, loopy smile.
Ohoho.
So, your dear gigglebug was trying to keep all those sweet reactions away from you, even after you worked so hard for every single one of them? Now, that really wasn’t fair, was it?
You gave him a break, no longer tickling him. Still, having your voice so close made his torso instinctively try to wiggle away, which in itself seemed to only re-alight all the reminiscent tingling on his skin, making the tickly sensation it go back to buzz and dance on his nerves, increasing the phantom tickles, each passing second and taunting word making them feel worse than before. All of this only kept Dogday stuck into an infinite sea of unstoppable, hysterical titters and snickers.
Do you think this is fair at all, gigglebug?
He shook his head and stopped, then nodded and then shook it again, giving you a glimpse of shiny eyes for a second before it disappeared once more on his fur.
Well, you think this isn’t fair at all. But that is fine. You both can stay here all day long if needed, as long it takes until you get to see that beautiful blushy face and dazzling smile. Yep. That sounds like a good, no, perfect idea! He would love this, right? To keep giggling and laughing and squealing here while being tickled silly forever and ever?
“Sweheheart!”
Oh! You wonder who said that! It sounded like your dear friend Dogday, but it couldn’t be him, right? No, not really. He was too busy hiding away from his best friend, as it seems.
Aw, that was a pity, truly. He was such a kind, awesome presence in your life. With a personality able to brighten everyone’s life and a trustful companion that was incredibly kind and strong. Always ready to help without a second thought or a blink of an eye, to give a hand, a comforting hug or a remark that would bring you straight to reality.
Besides, he was kind of cute, too. Like a sweet, excited puppy. He had this loud, booming laughter that, when you got him laughing for long enough, started to descend into a series of crackles that never failed to make him snort and bounce around in joy until his voice box began to glitch in the most endearing and funny way.
“No more teasing! No more!” Dogday’s titters grew to hysterical high pitched giggles and he scrunched up his neck, trying to best to curl up and disappear as more and more heat spread across his face. His tail would make a hole into the factory’s ground at this rate.
See? It was the most adorably adorable thing, honestly.
Actually…
You adjusted yourself again and his bubbly giggles developed to chuckles, paws tugging from your grip once again. He knew very well what that tune of yours meant.
You kind of missed listening to his laughter…
And so, with a swift move you freed your hands, fastly shoving them on Dogday’s armpits before he could even react.
Without wasting a single second, you digged.
A shriek took over every other sound in the place. And then other as you pushed your face right in the middle of his tummy, nibbling and pressing raspberries on it without mercy all while your fingers scratched, scribbled and drummed on his pits with no abandon, nimble fingers dancing on the spot for a few minutes before jumping to other one, to prevent him to get used to the sensation.
Dogday just fell limply on the floor, his shoulders, torso and belly shook with the force of his laughter, and his arms kept jumping from hiding his face to cluing on his sides in a futile attempt to stop the wiggling from worming their way, once more, to his ribs or neck. Each snort, squeal, yelp, snicker, crackle and every other sound swirled freely in the air, especially when a raspberry found a new sensitive spot that even he didn’t know about - since when his collarbone was so ticklish? - and focused all their attention there until all his cute and fun reactions slowed to a string of bubbly, hysterical giggles and his friend went on the look for another sweet tickle spot.
His neck, ribs, armpits, stomach, even his own ears had not been safe from the playful attack. A few pieces of time passed until it slowed to an incredible, horrible kind of soft tickling that led to a series of tittering sniggers to spill from his lips and to a beginning of tears to gather in the corner of his eyes.
At this point, his paws came and gently rested on your hands, engulfing them completely, glimmering eyes finding yours as the light scribbling instinctively squirm lazily from one side to other.
You stopped, entire form melting, the playful smirk plastered on your features losing the sharpness of its corners as a proud fondness took over. You freed one hand to caress the fur of his head, chuckling with drops of amusement and care when he closed his eyes and all his muscles relaxed completely at that, his tail now going back and forth in a tired but content wag. He nuzzled your hand.
There is it. My beautiful smile.
He groaned, pulling his ears until they covered his face. “Angel… You’re ruthless.”
Hey, it’s not teasing if it’s true!
Another groan. He muttered something under his breath but didn’t shy away from your touch.
The silence fell like a soft blanket on you, bringing to that dark, horrible place a feeling of safety and care that used to be just a pointless, futile dream, before.
(This was nice. Safe.)
Suddenly, two paws flew like a blur of movement in your direction and you felt your entire world tumble and turn upside down.
You blinked and as your eyes focused, only to find a giant sentient toy who resembled a dog and slowly became your trustful companionship on the last days (hours?) in this factory. Someone you knew that would be right by your side and fight for your safety almost as much as you fought for his.
Although, by the way his mischievous gaze found yours and big arms embraced you in a firm, but still gentle, hug, you must admit you weren’t feeling that safe anymore.
…Dogday?
“No. You’re in friend hug jail. Paying for your friend crimes. You can’t get out.”
You snorted. Glad that you had the sense to start that playful game in the safe area you and Dogday had been clearing and taking care for some time since the ‘You Got To Be a Human and Rest’ episode.
Getting comfortable, you let out a relaxed sigh, snuggling closer, letting your hand softly run on his back in a soft, nice rhythm, not taking too long to feel him melting under the caring touch.
Well, you may be in jail, but your consciousness was clear.
Dogday had started it.
#Ticklish!Dogday#Lee!Dogday#Ler!Reader#Ler!Player#poppy playtime tickles#poppy playtime tickling#Kanene's fic#Kanene's fanfic#DOGDAY IS A DEAR HE DESERVES TO LAUGH AND BE SILLY AND PLAYFUL AND HAPPY OK I COULDN'T HELP IT#I like to imagine that Dogday is all giggles and half pleas and protesting babbles and giddy snickers until he actually gets tickled#then he just let everything else go and start laughing non stop without a single care in the world#if i had a nickel everytime I had to be careful while describing raspberries and nibbles w a character that had trauma related to being-#well-#nibbled on but not in a tickly fun way. I would have two nickels. Which isn't a lot. But it's weird that happened twice...#lkjhgfghjkolploijuh anyway!! hope you all have a nice week! take care <3#xreader#they are both incredibly silly you honor#I was writing another fic where reader and dogday find his own small smiling critter toy version and befriend it but this one will be super#-long and time is scarse so I decided to finish this playful idea here first and then try to write the other when I can#Let's see how that plays out :D
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Bonds, Friendship and other strange things that are affected by it
Kanene’s notes: It’s been! A long time!! What a hello! :D Uhhhh, tbh, I am not sure when this is going to be posted because I haven’t finished writing the ending yet but at the same time I can’t think of an ending for it so dfgthyujuhygtffg let’s see which part of me will win when this comes out xD
(Edit: So, I came here to post it unfinished but !!! a suden lighting of inspiration striked me so!! dfhyujikjh yay! another fic! lets gooo)
Warnings: None. Around 1000 words of Lee!Percy and Ler!Grover because those two are incredibly fun and cool to be around and think about.
[~*~]
Grover cared about Percy. He really did. Of course. No one would create a bond that can possibily cost your life with someone that you didn’t trust as if the own Destiny had intertwined your existences to follow each other at the hardest times. Especially if that other person was a half-blood that was more into fights, problems and almost-death situations than most teenagers could admit.
So, yes, he loved Percy. He was his friend. His best friend. And maybe a brother, but this title was already well placed in Tyson and he was not about to fight a three foot tall cyclop for it. He had enough fighting and marrying cyclops for his life. Thank you very much.
Anyway. Love and Care. Yeah.
But this was starting to get ridiculous.
Happiness and joy exploded in his chest like fireworks being set off just under his skin, leaving his entire body with a buzzing, kind of tickly feeling running just about everywhere.
"My gods, Percy, I am not even touching you!!" He had to almost physically bite the giggles that threatened to spill from his throat.
Percy wasn't so lucky. His face was already beginning to be tainted with red by both the unstoppable onslaught of titters and snickers and the embarrassment of Grover being absolutely right.
"Shut up, shut up. You're so stupid, this is so stuhuhupid!"
"Really?" Grover rested his hands on the other's sides and almost jumped in surprise with the phantom feeling of ticklish shock that made his body want to curl in a ball of protection.
It was no surprise when the younger began kicking and crackling even before Grover squeezed the tickle spot as if his life depended on it.
"Pehercy! There is no way someone can be that ticklish!"
“Shuhut it!”
And that was the thing: Percy was actually NOT that ticklish. He swear that he wasn’t! If he crumbled just with the slightly hint of wiggly fingers and a couple of squeezes, Annabeth would have destroyed him on all their playful debates for now. Damn, if he was that sensitive, he wouldn't have survived his own childhood with a mother that was as sweet and as lovely as merciless during an attempt to cheer her son up.
But he couldn’t articulate this. Not when that dumb bond could make him feel not only his own butterflies flying and dancing crazy on his stomach, but also that sunny feeling of a playful joy that he was sure that came from Grover's pride making the Son of Poseidon, who survived two gigantic wars and another countless life-threatening fights, die with just some digging on his ribcage and oh, shit he was getting higher, nononono-
"Stohohohop!!" He arched his back, hands holding Grover's wrists but too much weak to push the scribbling fingers that were focusing too much in that awful space between each rib to be fair away. He was sure the entire world could hear the way his laughter got higher and louder even before Grover decided to close his hands in fists and drill his knuckles on the skin.
For a moment Percy almost regreted embarassing his friend in front of Juniper, but the feeling almost as quick as it was gone.
"I hahahahate this. I hate this so much!"
Grover didn't even falter for a second, barely stopping to acknowledge the happy warmth - like watching the sunrise in the beach with your favorite people around you - that definitely wasn't only his taking over his senses before answering. "Yes, Percy, of course you do. Just like fishes hate water, but you do."
"I'm serious!"
"I am literally agreeing with you, dude."
"No, you're not!"
"Now you're just making stuff up."
And before Percy could protest more Grover decide to finally end the other's suffering and worm his way to the armpits with ease pratice, barely fliching at the honest-to-the-gods scream that came out from his friend's mouth before he fell in silent laughter, his entire body shaking with every giggle and hands twitching between hiding his face every time another snort was fished from his throat or keep trying (and failing) in pry the offending fingers from their unfair, drilling attack on the ticklish pits.
A faintly sound of leaves moving was the only warning that they weren’t alone anymore. Grover smiled even before the so known amused voice called their attention.
"Oh, it's you. I thought the Stymphalian birds were back for revenge. Hi, seaweed brain."
“Hey, Annabeth!”
With all the noise, Grover was surprised Annabeth took as long as she did to appear.
Percy seemed to think otherwise.
"No!" Suddenly his efforts to escape got 10 times worse, which, since he really wasn't trying to truly get away from the very beginning, made it see like Grover was fighting against an old lazy chihuahua. "How did you find us!"
"Did he interrupt your date again?"
At the reminder, Grover fred the rest of his fingers to claw at Percy's belly - right above his bellybutton, wehere were storaged the best collection of snorts and shrieks, while his thumbs were still drumming on his armpits.
"Yes." He had to shout above the other's high pitched laughter. "And it's Kill Percy Thursday!"
“How could I forget?” The blonde started cracking her fingers, making bubbly excitment run so quickly and strongly in his senses that Grover had to stop the tickling to snicker, instinctively fliching away. Annabeth eyed both of them with a glint of fondness and amusement that did nothing to hide the pure mischieviousness taking over her expressions. “By the way, I think I am owned some revenge since someone decided to prank me with those fake books last week.”
“It was good knowing you, dude.”
Joy and warmth and pride and care chasing each other in his chest while he tried to keep the daughter of Athena away from his tickle spots with no sucess.
The things he had to put up with because of his friends, really.
#Ticklish!Percy#Lee!Percy#Ler!Grover#pjo tickling#pjo tickles#Kanene's fic#Kanene's fanfic#this has been in my drafts for like months now fdfyhujkijh#helppp#anyway. it's done!!! yay!! I wanted to write more about that idea but honest I am just happy that I finished it x33#Maybe the ending isn't the beeeest but it is there so :DD#It still is good ig
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In Between Feathers and Smiles
Kanene's notes: As it seems when I wasn't looking ??? Fucking Felipe Minecraft just came here and made a nest in my mind and refuses to leave so now I have a new comfort character as it seems.
Also I know that Richas and Philza didn't interact a lot but I like to think they are final bosses for each other. The day Richas adopts him as his father and Philza adopts him as his son the island explodes and life come to a full cycle.
Warnings: None! Just a tad of angst with plenty of fluff and some silly cheer up tickles. Ticklish!Richarlyson and Ler!Philza. Around 4.000 words. Richas uses all pronouns here.
[~*~]
Tio Phil had a nice place.
Richas didn’t spend a lot of time there. Important talks were usually held in other secured spaces and he would rather spend some time building with her parents or causing some ruckus somewhere in the island than constantly invade Tallulah and Chay’s home. Even if they got closer after the Egg Island, it didn’t mean that he stopped feeling awkward around his siblings.
But today… They was tired.
So they hiked to the top of the wall, turned off Philza’s collecting machine and fell in the middle of the potato crops, watching the clouds as they calmly danced around their always-perfectly-sunny sky.
Looking at them, she wouldn’t have to think about how much she missed pai Cellbit and Pa Roier every single day, about how scared Empanada looked and the way she was always clutching her scythe now or how she and mãe Bagi barely came out of their securated base anymore.
If he watched enough the fading forms of the fluffy clouds and the occasional birds that came and went, he wouldn’t have to think about the sharp shapes and bright colors he saw today when he woke up in his old room in pai Cellbit’s castle, full of new stinging scratches covering entirely his arms and legs, the canvas and room filled with red drops of paint and blood. Nor how it felt to burn the piece of art and bury the ashes aways before anyone could see it.
Yes. The Wall was nice. It was calm and beautiful and since her tio and siblings were sleeping like rocks somewhere well hidden he could sneak a few jumps in their trampoline before coming back to a second nap by the plants.
From time to time he would feel something bump on his hand and turn around only to see a cute, small tortoise calmly biting and chewing on a leaf of the crop, probably a fresh fugitive from Talullah’s pond. They could respect its chaotic nature.
“Holy fuck!” A shout nearby almost made him jump out of his skin, fastly turning around, sword in hand, only to see his tio in a similar situation, hand on his heart as he tried to regain his breath amidst his surprised laughter. “Gods, Richarlyson you scared the shit out of me.”
That fished an amused crackle out of Richas, who didn’t feel much like it, but got up and waved a few times, writing a greeting for the adult. She kind of was in his home, afterall.
“Hi, tio! Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” Philza answered, putting his tools back on his trusted backpack once again, now already realizing what was the reason for his machine to have stopped working out of nowhere. He instead pulled a basket out of it.
It has been a while since he harvested his own potatoes by hand, but he had no hurry or plans today. Besides, it was quite a calming activity.
“Were you looking for me? Sorry, me, Chayanne and Tallulah have been spending a lot of time in our… other house.”
It was definitely a way to explain Rose’s protected sanctuary, but he couldn’t tell the kid about that.
A crossing thought made Philza’s body freeze and his eyes became wide. “Wait, is it about our trip? Is it time? Ok, I already got everything prepared but I still need a couple more minutes to leave Tallulah and Chayanne somewhere safe with someone and then we can go… Let me see who is already awake…”
A push in his arm stopped his sentence and called his attention to the dragons’ words.
“It’s fine! :D” Another blue sign quickly followed the first, the sentences being written fast and messily. “It’s not the time for our trip yet, don’t worry. I was just passing by here and decided to take a nap.”
The small dragon, a barely nestling, crouched and let their tail drag across the soil in a calming manner.
There was no rush today. Philza felt his muscles untense.
“Alright then. That is good.” The adult smiled, more relaxed. Richas never commented this with anyone, but sometimes his tios looked like they’re a thousand years old. “Sorry for interrupting your relaxing nap then, mate. As I said, I already got everything covered. The moment you need me, just call, ok?”
Energetic nods. Philza answered with one of his own and turned around, going back to his activity. It was already a habit at this point, to watch a kid with the corner of his eyes as he went on about his day, always aware to any danger or enemy that could appear. That is how he watched as Richas swayed in the same place when he turned around, expression falling to a neutral face as they broke their signs and threw them out of the wall before falling on the ground again, closing her eyes.
Richarlyson was a good kid. An energetic little shit rocketing from one place to the other with an adventurous and reckless spirit almost as big as his heart. Anyone who spent more than 2 minutes with him would see, clear as day how much he loved his parents and loved even more to give them gray hair, always ready for a playful chase, a harmless prank or a fun playdate with his siblings. They didn’t stumble on each other too much nowadays, but at any given time Philza would protect and take care of him just as much as his own kids if needed.
He was a good egg (literally).
That is why it was easy to see that something was off with her. Seeing her walking around without one of his parents or Bad was rare, but not an alarming sign itself, being as independent as they was. But that together with the way that her gestures lacked their usual uncontrollable energy, how he fell the moment Philza turned away and how tiredness clung in his form and brought shadows to her eyes and a weight to her shoulders was definitely something worth noticing.
Something had been bothering the boy and knowing his family and their history on the island… Well, not a single islander had been free from the horrors that permeated every corner of the place, but the brazilians seemed to receive a special - and not in the good way - attention more often than not.
Needless to say, Richarlyson probably had a lot to get worried and sad over, unfortunately.
All of them, the guardians, did their best to save their nestlings the best they could from the enemies and disasters that seemed to follow their every step. However there was just so much a small group could do against gods knows how many entities before their children also began paying a parcel of the price.
It was sorrowful to see the young one like this, but Philza wouldn’t pry. If the kid wanted to come and vent he would happily lend them an ear and give his best comfort. If Richas wanted to just hang out in silence and enjoy the refreshing breeze from the top of the wall then Philza would let him be, as well.
Therefore, he kept collecting the potatoes, humming one of Tallulah’s songs while putting them in crates and organizing the crates in a pile next to the security fence together with the other thousands crates that were already there.
Maybe he should follow Pierre’s example and start selling them to the Federation. Getting paid and becoming an official provider or something like that.
… Nah, he would rather die.
Philza turned around to get another round of potatoes, this time to make more avocado toast to nibble on until dinner, where his daughter would oblige him to cook actual true food for them - which is unfair, because avocado toast is a very good, healthy and energetic, fulfilling food! - when he saw it.
‘It’, more specifically being Richarlyson, who was still around three feets away from him, just like she was after the end of their conversation. Which didn’t make any sense since Philza had moved a good distance further away from his initial spot while harvesting and taking care of his plantation.
Hm.
Interesting.
He kept his gaze forward and his hands moving, not actively watching the kid but still paying attention for any kind of move.
A few steps away, he crouched to adjust a crop that had been almost removed from its spot, planting and firming it back on the soil before getting up again, his wings partially open to lower the sun rays hitting his back.
(With them being destroyed as they were, there was little use he could give them, but this would have to do.)
Pretending to stretch, he tilted his head just slightly amount, in the perfect angle to see that Richas, once again, had moved somehow in this short period of time and was now closer to him, laying on the ground with her eyes closed, a light snore coming out of her muzzle in a quiet ‘mimimi’ sound.
Philza held back a snort.
They kept this up for a while, almost as a game. Philza would continue his task, turn his head for half of a second and when he turned his attention back to the young one it was to see that they was already close again, “napping” with no worries, dead to the world as a rock, all across the field. There was a moment when the winged blonde could almost swear that he saw him crawling amidst the potatoes while following him.
Philza thinks he did a pretty good job in not laughing out loud at their antics, only letting out one or two small snickers here and there fly in the air before being swept away.
He was taking the toasts out of the furnace and storing them in pots when the little dragon “woke up”, yawning and stretching, an amused grin blossoming in his face.
“Hey, king, glad that you're awake. Just made a fresh stack of avocado toast. Here, take some, take some, make sure you have enough for any emergency or attack.”
A loud wheeze was pried from his lips at watching her previous grin quickly turn into a sour face at the sight of the toast, stepping away from them in a half of second.
Richarlyson quickly shook her head as she emphasized that he “would rather have a short and happy life instead, thanks” and that “Tallulah told me terror stories about these when we were in Egg Island 0_0 I am traumatized”, as the signs he placed on the ground said.
Philza had to hold himself on the fence so he and the toast didn't fall from the wall with the force of his laughter.
“Alright, alright.” He quickly acquiesced, putting the rest of the food in the remaining pot and disposing them all in his backpack, planning to bring it to the pantry later. “What if we shared these sandwiches Chayanne made me this morning, then? He is trying a new recipe and it's just delicious.”
The disgusted expression quickly melted away when they heard the mention of a new snack. Philza unwrapped it under Richas’ wide attentive eyes and offered him only to have his hand pushed away, the kid shaking his head furiously.
“What? Why? Did Tallulah tell you scary stories about her siblings’ cooking abilities too?”
Richas denied, looking a tad out of the place before apparently deciding on their words.
“You can keep it, tio! Chayanne made it for you and it's no problem, I am not hungry >:D”
Another sign.
“Besides, if I need some I can just go to Tio Bad's house and steal his refrigerator! I still have a lot in my backpack though.”
To show his point, the small one began pulling pot after pot of cooked goodies from his backpack: lasagna, soup, candies, more candies, chocolate, a not very good looking or even fresh bread, tamales… He proudly showed his collection, bouncing on the same spot before starting to put them back from where they came from.
This nestling…
“I am not saying that you don't have food. I know you're always prepared and I am pretty sure you even have one or two illegal items in your backpack too.” He rested his back on the tree behind him, careful to avoid hitting Missa's painting, smiling as his nephew stared at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes, bouncing on the same spot, not denying or confirming his suspicions. “But I still want to share a good sandwich with you, mate.”
Richas still didn't look convinced. He seemed to be listening, though. That was a good step.
“I am sure that Chayanne wouldn’t care too. He actually loves giving everyone good food and showing his skills to the island. Which is perfect. I can send him your thanks later.”
It was interesting how, even though all the similarities, every sibling was still very different from each other, in both their personalities and actions, and sometimes Philza liked to muse about it. At his words Richarlyson didn't nervously twist his fingers like Tallulah used to do when thinking hard about something or deviated his gaze like Chayanne when he knew what he wanted but thought that he should want another thing. Instead, the dragon fledgling watched him intently, looking for something.
They must have found it, because they smiled in an embarrassed manner and let his tail wag excitedly once, breaking the signs and walking to his side on the tree.
Philza handed them their sandwich and Richarlyson began eating, satisfied, small growling sounds escaping between each bite as they enjoyed the moment.
Without meaning to or even thinking too much about it, Philza answered back with a quiet, pleased caw, his right wing expanding to surround the little one, not locking her amidst his feathers, but creating a shield from the Sun.
(If only it could completely shield them from the dangers.)
“Do you like it?”
Richas answered by taking a large bite and ripping the sandwich in half, ears wiggling in contentment. The adult chuckled.
“Good to know, king.”
They spent some time like this before a sign was placed, successfully calling the other’s attention.
“How is it to have feathered wings, tio? Yours are so pretty! :D”
Flashes began filling his mind. The feeling of the wind hitting your face, the sound of the birds singing and chirping when flying in flocks, the adrenaline of falling without a single fear of hitting the floor, of expanding his wings and feeling each one of your feathers bristle in the air…
A light touch in one of his primaries shook him out of his memories and his eyes automatically flew to the… mess that were his wings now, with weak muscles and feathers missing from some spots.
Grimly, Philza could surely think about plenty of adjectives he could give them, “pretty” definitely weren’t one.
It was quite hard to focus on that when the fledgling kept carefully touching and looking at them with so much curiosity, however.
“It’s incredible.” He sighed, a mix of longing and awe painting his voice. “They can help with so much stuff, like, I’m not even kidding. Mine are very roughed up, especially after Purgatory, but when they were in their prime they were perfect not only for flying but also for shielding, holding stuff, attacking…There is a lot you can do with them. You also will probably be able to do all of this and more when yours grows.”
“You could attack with them? 0-0”
“Pff, yeah. Actually, you would be surprised about how many people wouldn’t be prepared to have a face full of feathers swinging with full force when fighting an avian.”
At the mention, he shook his black, glistering feathers in demonstration, finishing his sandwich with a final bite when a snorted squeal cut the air.
Philza turned around to see Richarlyson rubbing a spot on his neck, their other hand pushing his wing away while a small smile grazed his lips.
Hm.
“Also, you see those muscles?” He purposely brought his wing down, letting all the black feathers hit and briefly wiggle on the young’s face and neck, pretending to not notice the way he squeaked and jumped away, shoulders bouncing with the uncontrollable giggles that naturally resulted from the tickles. Philza continued as if nothing happened. “Lot of people don’t think too much about them, but to be able to carry a whole person, the muscles, tendons and bones need to have a lot of strength. So, being punched by them usually hurts a lot more than attentive enemies are prepared for and gives you plenty of time to run away or finish the fight.”
Richas rubbed the buzzing, tickly tingles left by the sudden attack of feathers away, airy titters still escaping from their mouth while they squinted suspiciously at the blonde, who seemed distracted enough by his explanation to realize the onslaught of accidental tickles.
The dragon risked a step closer. The conversation continued to flow without interruption.
“That is also why it’s important to always keep exercising your wings, especially during their initial growth or periods of recovery. Have you been building your core strength, mate?”
Brushing off the previous episode aside, Richas nodded, not helping the excited thrill that filled the air.
“Yes! Tio Bad taught me how and pai Mike has been trying to build a machine to fly with me so he is studying a lot of mechanics about how it works and accompanying me with the exercises. Pa Roier also said he will help me when he comes back, since he used to watch a lot of tia Jaiden and Bobby training.”
Philza tried to not visibly frown at the words. How long has Roier been sleeping, again?
He would have to ask Bagi and Fit for news later.
For now, he had a kid to distract.
“Sounds good. If you need any help you can call me, I wouldn’t mind giving you a few tips. Even if crow wings aren’t that close to dragon ones, they still have a lot in common.”
“Can you teach me the attacks? I want to surprise Dapper the next time he tries to fight me.”
The avian laughed. “Sure, king. Come a bit closer.”
Richas gave two more steps in his direction with wide watching eyes. “Alright, it depends a lot on your wingspan but usually you will need to be in close combat to use these techniques, so that is something to pay attention to. A good tactic you can have is to use them as a distraction.”
With a mischievous smirk, Philza began quickly moving his wings around the kid, letting them get close and then moving them away before he could touch them, the feathers skittering freely across his neck and ears with each swipe. When Richas squirmed to one side to hide, trying to push them away while firmly pressing his mouth shut so no squeak or squeal would escape, Philza simply attacked the other side, even managing to slip a few wiggling of the fluff feathers on his belly and armpits when the shirt would move up enough to reveal a bit of the scaled skin, catching a new giggly growl every time.
“And, when the target is sufficiently confused by them is the moment that you attack.”
Before the words could sink in the kid’s mind, Philza striked, giving to one of his sides a quick tweak, successfully fishing a loud yelp and managing to free a string of snickers that only grew louder and gigglier as he kept the soft, light feathery tickles intertwined them with more and more surprising squeezes and tweaks.
“You can keep it up as long as you need. Remember: confuse, confuse and attack.” Swipe. Swipe. Squeeze. “Again: confuse, confuse and attack.”
Laugh, laugh, laugh.
Richas gave up trying to push his wings and hands away, instead trying to hug himself to hide his most ticklish spots. However, the playful, soft and silly tickling kept following them no matter how much they wiggled or squirmed around, totally surrounding him with those fluffy bristles that made every single patch of skin buzz with a funny kind of electricity, freeing more and more squeaks between peals of uncontrollable laughter.
She started walking backwards, trying to put some distance between her and the tickles, almost stumbling on his own tail by how hard it was wagging in adrenaline and joy.
Philza’s eye twirkled with a gleeful shine.
He stopped his playful attack, but the young one kept stepping away.
“Another good technique that you can use is to create a physical barrier with your wings. It can be dangerous since your enemy can get a hold of them if you’re not careful but very useful in the case you want to stop them from touching you or, in our case,” Richarlyson’s back hit something soft but immovable and suddenly the wheezy titters and snickery snickers were back in full force once again, bordering on a hysterical laughter when skillful hands began scribbling and scratching his ribs. “Preventing them from getting away.”
His fingers danced and burrowed themselves in the space between their ribs, vibrating on the spot, which made a funny kind of squeaky growl escape from the dragon, more high pitched, bouncy laughter and unstoppable wiggles taking over him when the hands kept running away and attacking all over his torso. They spidered over his ribcage to then poke his armpits, or washed down to sneak some digging and squeezing on his stomach and also even skittered across his spine, pulling all kind of yelps, chortles, snorts and high pitched, wheezy laughter over and over again.
It took a few more minutes and a bunch more of snickering and wiggling - which was actually even worse now because each squirm made him sink even more on the tickly feathers - before the avian eventually let him go, chuckling in amusement at the way Richarlyson fell on the floor and curled in a ball, shoulders bouncing with the leftover giggles.
An amused snort was pried from the adult when they showed him their middle finger, trying with no success to frown in his direction while still smiling and snickering non stop, remnant sniggers twinkling freely in the air.
“That is a surprise tickle avian attack for you. Now you already know a few uses for your wings in a battle.”
The dragon nestling ignored him, dramatically rolling and turning around and away from the avian, still fully stretched on the floor as if he had just survived a fight for his life and not some harmless playful sillness. Philza chuckled a bit more, not resisting and giving his unprotected neck one last tickle, which immediately melted the half heartedly pout in a smile and made him turn back again and hold a tnt as a threat, making the adult laugh and pull his arms up in rendition.
Richas showed off his tongue and then fell dramatically on the ground again.
(It was good to him in a lighter spirits, again.)
Philza then got up, stretching and shaking his wings fervently, wincing a bit when their muscles trembled a tad more than normal while holding them, probably from getting so much exercise after being kept so long hidden and immobile.
Maybe he should follow his own advice and build more of their core strength.
Letting them rest, he went back to adjust a few more crates around before checking on his communicator to see if Chayanne or Tallulah had woken up.
It was almost evening now, and yet it showed not a single signal of life.
Hm.
Well, he could give them their cookies tomorrow if needed, there was still plenty of time before the end of the week.
A light poke hit him right below his shoulderblade and suddenly a loud giggly yelp was ripped from his throat. He turned around quickly only to find his own nephew looking at him with a malefic grin in his expression.
“No.” He said, wagging a finger in warning at them, already realizing their intentions just by the slight slow drag of their tail and the step they gave in his direction. His tune tried to come out as stern, but he was pretty sure that even the kid could see there was no real heat behind his words.
Richas answered him with an excited thrill, ignoring the threatening caw - more like a soft chip but he wasn’t about to admit it - he gave her in return.
“No. Richarlyson, you do not want to get into this fight with me, ok, mahahate?! Hey! No! Lehehet go!”
There was indeed a valiant and grandious fight. One of the most playful, silly and joyful ones to ever graze that land, they said. The winner was never revealed at the end but passing friends mentioned listening to plenty of surprised caws and giggly growls falling like waterfalls from the wall, especially when certain two other kids woke up to the lack of their father and went to investigate his whereabouts. They said that the growing match continued until the sun set.
Who knows, who knows.
And since that day, if Richas decided to visit his tio Phil more frequently and if Philza would take the habit of turning off his harvesting machinery from time to time to watch the clouds, that is nobody’s business but their own.
#Richas: a// Philza: silly dad mode activated#qsmp tickles#qsmp tickling#YOU CAN PRY. YOU CAN PRY RICHAS RECEIVING THE COMFORT HE DESERVES FROM MY DEAD COLD HANDS#Ticklish!Richas#Ticklish!Richarlyson#Ler!Philza#This came to me as I was about to fall asleep making me promptly awake and write the idea down#Which was basically: Richas sad. Potatoes. Philza's wings tickly. Philza silly dad mode awakes.#Kanene's fic#Kanene's fanfic#Was sad so wrote this let's goooo fluffy soft cheer up tickles yesh yesh#Also I miss Romero Richas Lore pls bring it back pleaseeee
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Childish Fights and Loud Laughter
Kanene’s notes: For some reason I am going back to my old fandoms? dfghyygtfdf anyway I re-watched atla once again last month and finally got some time and energy to write a tickle fic for it! Yesh!!!!
Warnings: Zuko’s general grumpiness, but only that. Switch!Zuko and Switch!Aang. I have no idea when that happens but it’s before the Sozin’s Comet. Around 3500 words.
[~*~]
Aang was staring at him.
Not that being stared at was something new in his life. Zuko grew rather accustomed to it, being the first heir of the Firelord and having a gigantic scar that covers half of your face usually made you the most interesting person in a crowd.
Still, it didn't mean that Zuko had to like it. Actually, he didn’t even understand why Aang was paying such a close attention to him now. After months of being friends, he should already be used to Zuko's presence in their group. Was he having second thoughts about accepting him as his teacher? Why? Was it because of the mistake in their morning training?
It wasn’t even a gigantic thing. Aang just got a way too light hit in his side that made him lose his concentration of his firebending and flinch away from the strange, electric sensation on his side.
(If that told him something about Aang's improvement or about Zuko's own lack of skills it was unclear.)
In the end, the reason for the staring didn't matter. It wouldn't be the first time Zuko would lose everything for a single mistake. He just needed to prove to the Avatar that he was still a worthy ally and teacher.
He got up.
"Break's time is over. Come on, let's spar and then run through your katas again. From first to tenth."
As always, the authority in his voice made Aang immediately jump to his feet, although no more moves were made to follow the instructions, the boy was still watching him for something.
"What!" He bristled.
"Did you injure your side?"
"With your weak hit? You just got me off guard, that is all." Zuko readied himself in an offensive stance, beginning his attack. "Let's see if you can do it again, and no more holding back your punches. You won't have this mercy when it comes to the Firelord."
"I know, I know." But instead of the defeated look that always took over the younger's face every time he mentioned his father, Aang's expression quickly bounced back to a curious expression, dodging from his flames and attacks with fluid moves (it was both weird and interesting to see how much fo the other elements affected his actions even when he wasn't using his bending).
"Are you sure you're not injured, though? You did jump pretty high back there."
Zuko felt like there was something hidden in the other’s voice. A kind of light reflected in his eyes, a different way that he seemed not worried at all in trying to fight back, an extra bounce in his step.
And for some reason, now the Avatar keeps smiling at him. Which, when the subject was about how he possibly was or not injured, didn't make Zuko very confident about his safety.
"I am not hurt." Irritation began filling his words. "Take this seriously! Fight back!"
"I will! I will! I am just curious, why did you jump away?"
"For no reason! It doesn't matter."
"No one squeals and jumps away for no reason." Was he getting closer?
"I did not squeal!" Zuko widened his stance and with a circling gesture, moved his arms until his palms were facing the ground, ceasing the fire attacks before adjusting himself to a standing position. "And if you rather keep mocking me than really focusing on your training, then I suppose that you can continue mastering your firebending alone."
He turned away, feeling strangely out of place, before fast steps put Aang right in front of him, arms in a placating gesture and his expression full of alarm and a bit of regret.
"No, wait! I wasn't mocking you, I swear." Aang then took a respectful stance and bowed, with his thumb poking out from his closed fist resting on his open palm. "Please don’t give up from me yet, Sifu Ho-" at Zuko's glare, he bit back the 'hotman'. "Uhhhhh, Sifu Zuko."
The older one took a deep breath, wondering if his uncle also felt the same feeling of old all the times Zuko kept pushing his proper training off to complain about capturing the Avatar and restoring his honor.
Life really comes to a full cycle, doesn't it?
He bowed, as well, mirroring Aang's gesture and respect, letting his usual irritation wash away, a common pinch of guilt that always came when he let his angry outbursts control his decisions appearing once again.
His point still stands, though.
"Alright." His tune was tough, but not unkind, a soft kind of relaxation taking over his gestures. He should at least try to have the same patience as his uncle. "Let's try again. Firs-"
"I am just really curious!" Aang cut him, basically bouncing on the same place, his energetic big smile back to his face now that the misunderstanding had been cleared. "If you're not injured, does that mean you're ticklish?"
For some reason, Aang seemed about to launch himself straight to the sky with how much he was beaming. In a blink, Zuko remembered old memories of his and his mother's laughter, of Lu Ten's surprise attacks and Mai's playful touches before he threw everything away to fulfill his own destiny.
And, in another bewildered blink, abruptly, Aang's smile and actions made complete sense. Zuko looked at him with wide eyes.
"I-"
Before the prince could answer, however, the avatar jumped at him, not wasting a single second as he locked on his sides with a horrible scribbling that made he feel like there was thousands of feathers teasing his sensitive torso, following his body even when the surprise attack made him fall on his back, holding his reactions with all his will power.
"I knew it. You are!" The scribbling quickly evolved to a series of light pinches and squeezes that almost made him jump away as they traveled too much close to his stomach, giggles beginning to bubble in his throat. "I can't believe you never told us about it before!"
"W-why-" He bit back a squeal, refusing to fall for such childish play. "Why would I snkr e-ever tell you tha-ah!"
Aang beamed even more at the muffled yelp that came when he experimentally scratched at his belly, deciding that it was a perfect place to dance and wiggle his fingers freely.
"Because it is fun! And it would be nice to see your smile. I don't think we ever heard you truly laugh since you joined the group!"
"I don't need to laugh." He gritted through his firmly pressed lips, turning his face away, feeling his features getting hot at the hopeful and bright expression from Aang at the giddiness slipping through the tears in his barriers. "We need to t-t-train. Don't!"
Zuko maybe, if he wasn’t totally concentrated in not dying because anywhere - absolutely any other place - would be better than that spot, would definitely feel mortified by the honest to Agni high pitched plea that fled from his mouth when the other poked his bellybutton curiously.
Aang smiled even wider, somehow.
"You also have a ticklish bellybutton?" He poked the tickle spot again and again, giggling in delight when Zuko wiggled from one side to another with even the slightest hint of a touch. "Just like Sokka! He would go totally crazy when we tickled his belly. Katara even had this secret technique she did when..." Suddenly, he stopped.
Zuko could see the exact moment the Avatar got an evil idea.
"No.” Aang didn’t move. “Don’t you even think about it!"
He tried to roll away, legs too weak to help him in a chase. Nevertheless, the other's playful hands followed him, pulling him back and straddling his waist so he could rest his index fingers and thumbs at each side of his bellybutton, making Zuko take a wobbly gulp of oxygen.
"Aang-" He tried to push the hands away but the Avatar was as immovable as a rock, grinning at him a tad manically. "Aang, I am g-going to make you do so many katas you will keep doing them in your sleep! Don't you dare!"
The Avatar, the bridge between the spiritual world, the one responsible to bring peace and balance to the four nations, the only one in the world able to master all the elements, the agent of evil snickered and did, in fact, dare.
For Zuko's complete mortification and immediate defeat, he began squeezing.
It was horrible. It was unbearable. Each squeeze made his entire body spasm with the sheer force of keeping his laughter inside, face growing more and more red as the tickling just did not stop.
That was when Aang's voice cut through air.
"Hey, actually, this gives me an idea! Wanna see a cool trick?" Zuko shook his head and Aang laughed. "Okay, I will show you anyway! It goes like this: 'Hello, I'm Mister Bellybutton and I am supeeeeeer ticklish!"
He was squeezing said tickle spot as if it was a mouth, pretending it was speaking and even making a goofy voice for it as if they were both tiny kids and not the future firelord and the one destined to end a one hundred year war, full of responsibilities and posture to uphold and Zuko…
"Squish! Squish, squish, squish, squishsquishsquishsquish-"
Zuko exploded in a loud, boisterous laughter.
"S-SHUHUHUHUT AHAHAHAHAHAP!"
Whether it was for the sheer absurdity of it all, the awful and playful impersonation of a silly voice or the tickly shocks that filled all his nerves and senses he couldn't say. Actually, other than becoming a mess of laughter and sounds that were supposed to be words but were too lost in crackles to be understood, he wasn’t able to say much.
"Oh my god!!! Zuko, this is your laughter?! It's so nice! I can't believe we never tried to tickle you before!"
Zuko realized that he couldn’t do anything to stop the unfair tickle attack on his stomach, especially when Aang focused on using his other fingers to prod the sensitive skin and buzz on it, pulling a series of startled snorts that made the prince immediately hide his flaming face on his hands.
"Noooo, come on, not fair! You can't hide your smile, that is against the rules!"
"THEHEHEHERE'S NO RUHULES!"
"Of course there it is! Every tickle fight has rules. Like: no hiding your smile, no covering your face, and especially…"
The younger relented his attack giggling together with the other's remnant and uncontrollable titters as Zuko tried to recompose himself, feeling yet still a bit dazed with the sudden joy and adrenaline that were still running in his veins.
Wait. Why was it so quiet? Aang was saying something, wasn't he?
"Never leave a tickle spot unprotected unless you want it to be tickled!"
Suddenly fingers began kneading his ribs and Zuko's arms shot down in a too late attempt to protect them, a loud yelp announcing the comeback of an unstoppable mix of fast, airy giggles and eventual squeaks that didn’t wait to mingle in such a rare and beautiful melody.
"Here is it!" Zuko wasn't sure how, but he could swear that Aang somehow got more than two hands, because in a blink the wiggling fingers that were prodding and drawing circles on his ribcage were not only assaulting his neck and ears with a skillful spidering scratches and nimbly scribbling but also, even before he could lift his arms and try to pry them from there before another high pitched chortle came out of his mouth, were worming and digging awfully on his armpits, obliging him to clue his arms to his sides once more and starting the whole cycle started again and again.
No spot was left without a proper, tickly and tingly attention. Every squeeze on his knees, scratch on his soles, kneading on his sides and light tapping on his palms (how did he even discover about his palms-) pulled all sorts of loud crackles, bubbly giggles, bouncy titters, wobbly squirms, tired kicks and a boisterous belly laughter that left him without energy, a "stop" ready in the tip of his tongue when the younger decided that it was enough and relented the energetic tickle attack.
The prince of the Fire Nation turned around, still giggling, still blushing and still feeling the ghost feeling of dancing fingers buzzing right under his skin, leaving a permanent giant smile on his face.
He wiped the few tears that accumulated on the corner of his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to not get embarrassed by the couple of giggles that continued to fill the air.
"See, I told you it was fun!" Aang snickered. "I didn't expect you to be so ticklish, though. You're almost as bad as meEEK!"
With a swift roll and quick reflexes Zuko jumped and pushed - not necessarily gently but also not with all his strength - the Avatar down, pinning his arms upwards with a hand.
Wide grey eyes stared at him, a drop of alarm on them.
"Uhhhh, Zuko, you're not really angry are you? It’s just that you never said to stop and-"
Zuko lifted his hand and with a gasp, the other cut his babbling.
He began wiggling his fingers.
"Almost as bad as you, you say?"
"Waitwaitwait!" Aang kicked and laughed joyfully, suddenly free of any drop of fear in his gaze as he wiggled like a madman on his hold, trying with all his might to put as much distance as he could from the offending silly fingers.
Seeing the older one loosening up was rare, but to see him loosen up, smile and be playful on the same day? Aang felt like he was the luckiest person in the world. He couldn’t wait to tell everyone else about how nice Zuko's laughter is.
I mean, if he survived the payback. Aang tried to lightly pull his arms back, but the grip was firm. He watched with trepidation the hand that was getting closer and closer to his sides, sucking his belly as much as he could.
Golden and gray eyes found each other for a moment.
Zuko stopped, his tiny smirk being overthrown by a frown and Aang felt his arms being freed.
The butterflies in his belly stopped batting their wings and the smile on his face fell. He tried to not feel too disappointed.
They would eventually get Zuko to participate in more of their shenanigans. One day. When he was ready. Even if today wasn't the day, he still got him to laugh.
An unbearable light feeling on his palm made the shorter yelp and jump away, one of his wrists being held back before he could pull it to his chest.
Golden and gray found each other again. Zuko smiled triumphantly.
"I knew it." He said, and Aang watched with a giddy feeling as blunt nails began scribbling on his palm, following the lines of his hands, drawing on the tip of fingers, contouring and spiraling across the entire sensitive skin to his wrists. Soon enough, his airy, fast and giggly snickers were filling the space, amidst his wiggles and half-heartedly attempts to pull his arm away. "I was wondering how did you discovered about my hands. It's because yours are sensitive as well."
"Yehehehes!" An 'eee' sound stretched the word and he snorted, kicking and squirming more, his other hand flapping non stop in an attempt to free himself of all the energy running in his veins. "Ihihihi realized that when I stahaharted to bend firehehe. It makes them so ticklihihish!"
"Must be rough for you."
"Hehey! But yours are ahahahalso tick- no!"
Not minding the other's protest, Zuko lifted the captured arm and attacked the unprotected armpit, being careful to tase and drum his fingers in every available inch of skin, feeling extremely smug at the shriek he got from the Avatar with the drastic change from such a soft to more playful tickle attack, his squirming getting so strong that he pushed himself back to a sitting position.
"BWAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT THERE!"
Zuko remembered something Lu Ten used to do with him all the time. It was childish and silly and not at all fitting for the future Firelord, but it used to drive Zuko over the palace’s walls all the time, and if Aang had at least half of his reaction…
He was just really glad that they went to train in a far area alone.
"What? Not here?" He made sure to focus on the weakest spot of the pit, poking and digging there for a good measure. "Not right here? Are you sure?"
"YESYESYES! IHIHIT'S TOHOHOHO BAHAHAD!"
"OK then." The tickling came to a stop.
Aang continued to laugh softly at the attack, his smile big and wobbly and eyes shining with excitement. "Wohohow, you're ruthless."
Zuko merely hummed in reply, watching him for the exact moment where he would relax and lower his guard…
Now.
"Hm, I changed my mind." He went right back at the merciless attack.
"SIFU HOHOHOHOTMAN, NOHOHO!"
"And stop calling me that! Do you like being tickled, by chance? Becoming a mess of laughter and squeals?"
"Yehehehehes!"
Zuko blinked, the tickling faltering for a bit and fishing a mess of tittering and soft squealing before resuming his quicker pace. "Really?….Why?"
"Ihihihit's fun!" Aang squealed and arched his back when Zuko got bored and decided to worm his fingers to his back ribs, spidering and stretching on the space in between each bone. For a piece of moment nothing but laughter filled his mind, thoughts and senses and all Aang could do was squeal until his mind got a bit clearer.
"You like it too!"
The shout that came out from the prince's lips was a mix of embarrassment and surprise. "I do not!"
"Do too!"
"Shut it!" The playful glint on the other's eyes only got stronger at the color flooding once again Zuko's cheeks. He grumbled in a grump protest. "If you can still tease me then I am not doing a good job. You must have a death spot somewhere, don't you?" He held the boy by his shoulder, starting to wiggle and prod his back in a search.
It was a good thing that his hand was still keeping the boy still because as soon as the sentence came out from his mouth the other began wiggling like his life was on the line.
"Wait, wait, Zuko! Not there! You can tickle my hands again or even my sides, they're pretty bad, but, wait!"
"Is your back really that ticklish or-" Zuko's teasing was cut when he pressed the highest space in between his shoulderblades (being very careful to not accidentally touch the scar) and, after a loud shout, an extremely low belly laughter filled the air.
"NOHOHOHO!"
He stopped. Aang stopped, hands flying to hide his mouth.
"That was you?"
"No, of course not!" With a muffled voice the Avatar tried to wiggle away from the touch, only the tip of his smile appearing behind his palm. "What was what? I didn't hear a thing. Ah! It’s getting so late, I think that Katara is calling meeEEEHEHEHE!"
Zuko pressed once again at the middle of his shoulder blades, thumb incessantly tasering on the same spot as he watched with drops of surprise and amusement as the youngest usual higher voice became much lower and stronger, his guffaws making his entire torso beam with the force of the laughter.
"Your voice gets rougher when someone tickles your back?" Poke, poke, poke, prod, tase, tase. "How does that even work?"
"NOHOHOHO! LEHEHEHEHEHEAVE THAT SPOT ALOHOHONE, PLEHEHEHEASE!"
Seeing that the boy seemed unable to stop bouncing in the same place with the sheer amount of ticklishness and energy running across his entire torso, Zuko decided to listen to him, stopping his tickles and eyeing his lower back with curiosity.
If just that tiny spot on his shoulder blades were so bad he wondered if his spine…
With an only one index finger, the older one ran the tip of the finger across Aang's spine.
He got exactly to the middle of it before the airbender shot straight to the sky with a high pitched, ear splitting squeal.
Zuko quickly jumped to a standing position, wide eyes searching the sky until his gaze finally found the hope of the world, the bridge between the material and the spiritual world, clutching his belly and historically giggling while kicking the air just like a kid in a tantrum, floating from a side to another, way too lost in ghost tickles and tittering snorts to control his airbending and stop spinning in the air with each laugh.
The future firelord sighed, ignoring how fond he felt for being the one responsible in making the smaller look as happy as this.
He forced his face to go back to his usual scowl, even if a playful, silly kind of feeling softened most of it and even when the entire gang already knew how to see right through it.
"Your training is not over yet, stop fooling around and come back! You still have to do katas until sunset."
Aang's remanent joyful laugh rang like a bell across the air. Somehow, Zuko felt like they wouldn’t do a lot of training today.
#I am once again looking at the prince of the darkness and the ray of sunshine and being obsessed w their friendship#you can pry a giggly silly Aang from my dead cold hands. that bean deserves so muchtickles fr <3#Switch!Aang#Switch!Zuko#Ticklish!Zuko#Ticklish!Aang#atla tickles#atla tickling#Kanene's fic#Kanene's fanfic#Me: *uses 'airy' to describe Aang's laughter* I am the master of puns. I am unstoppable. I am silliest silly to ever silly#Also for a moment I was too worried I wrote the beginning too much dramatic then I remembered it was Zuko so that is fine#kjhgtfrfghjkjhgf#T H E M <3 <3 <3#Zuko: this is childish >:( // Aang: We ARE children >:)
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Oh, To Die By Your Hands
Kanene's notes: IT SEEMS SO SERIOUS WITH THAT TITLE KJUHYTFRGHUJK Nah, just your normal tickle fic with not so much normal characters. Fit and Pac have been living rent free in my mind since before Purgatory and after their date??? I am dead on the floor. Get a man who will declare his feelings for you in your native language for real for real.
Warnings: Lots of nibbles, tickly kisses and raspberries in this one. Switch!Fit and Switch!Pac. Around 6.500 words. Also! I tried to add the way that Pac calls Fit because of his accent written on the fic because I think it's lovely and cute. Hope it isn't too much confunsing or strange :D
[~*~]
“Thank you for coming, Pac. Ramón really likes when you sing him that lullaby.” His voice was rough but soft, just like his entire form and self when it came to his son, his beautiful baby boy.
Pac smiled, also following his example and lowering his voice, closing the secured door of the kid’s room carefully before they both headed to the other room where they held their first date, a prep on his step. “It’s no problem, Fitch! Actually, I don’t know why he likes that one so much, it literally talks about how a Cuca, which is like… a kind of monster? I don’t know how to explain. But how she will grab, or better, uh, snatch the kid away because the parents are out working.”
A loud peal of laughter was pried from the mercenary’s lips, staring at the other with unbelief in his eyes. “Wait, wait, that is the actual meaning of the song?”
“Yeah, yeah! I don’t know why they made it so scary. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if someone sang it to me before putting me to bed.”
“Damn, brazilian lullabies are just at a hardcore level.”
“Teaches you to sleep with one eye open, right?”
“That is right, that is right.”
They shared smiles. Arriving at the place, the air was still light, but it wasn’t difficult to see the question itching Pac’s throat, wanting to jump out of his body. It was in the way that he walked closely by Fit side and how he kept sneaking glances at him, quickly deviating them to look around the room before going back to stare, keeping the cycle for a while. Each time his steps got closer and closer until their hands intertwined in a hold.
It made sense he would be like that, of course. Fit would be just the same if his boyfriend woke him up in the middle of the night asking him to come to his place to help to calm down his kid after a nightmare because he wasn’t able to.
Still, he was glad that no questions were asked, not when Pac arrived - barely half a minute later after he sent his message, sleep and anxiety clinging like a shadow to his form - and not now, as the storm seemed to have passed.
Shame, however, kept flowing hot in his veins. He and Ramón had been alone since… always, really. They both had dealt with each other’s nightmares and night terrors more times than they could count. This one wasn’t supposed to be different. Shouldn’t be different. He should be there the moment his boy opened the door of his room with tears streaming down his face, sobs stubbornly escaping from his firmly pressed lips and hands open for a comforting hug that Fit should be able to give, a rare show of a child that his baby boy was, but refused to demonstrate most of time.
And yet…
Fit himself hadn’t been much better. Hadn’t been better for a long time, now. Because everytime he closed his eyes the threat from Madagio filled his mind and nightmares kept permeating his every night for the past two weeks, crowding his mind with horrifying scenarios that shouldn’t, but shook his core.
Usually, he would just wake up, push all of it - the feelings, the fears, the screams begging for their life - deep down his chest and hope that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.
Nevertheless to say, as all the things in life, it definitely did.
Because that night, when Ramón looked at his face - and god knows what he saw there - he stopped right in his tracks and carefully signed his name. He had been crying, he had been crying and scared and tired and all Fit could think - because words simply didn’t come out, no matter how much he tried to spill, spit them to comfort his kid - is that he could kill him. So quickly. Easily, even, with a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his trident, a pull from his bomb stacks, he could kill him and suddenly he was frozen on the spot, unable to even get closer to his son.
If Madagio had any power like the Federation, it could control him and destroy his most precious riches in a matter of seconds. It wouldn’t need to come to the island. It wouldn’t even need to pull Fit from it to make his life a living hell.
“There is something that we need to talk, Pac. Please take a seat.”
So, he called Pac. He deserved to know exactly what he was getting into (how many times would they have this kind of conversation?) and Ramón deserved a father who would actually get his shit together and get over it.
Pac gulped and looked at him slightly startled, knowing very well what the serious tune could mean, probably with a thousand of scenarios already running at light speed in his mind. “O-of course, Fitch.”
He then softly squeezed his hand - because there was no universe where Pac wouldn’t be perfect and strong and there but sometimes Fit seemed to forget that so he had to remind him - and let it go, sitting on the blue couch Fit recently added on the room and expectantly waiting for the other to do the same.
Which he promptly did - of course, because there wasn’t any universe where he would go and Fit wouldn’t immediately follow him.
“Wine? What about wine? Do you want some wine?” The brazilian offered, pulling glasses from his well trusted backpack and a bottle from the refrigerator nearby.
“Already wanting to take me to bed, Pac? Wow.”
“No! Stop it.” Pac lightly shoved his arm, both chuckling for a bit before Fit sobered, taking a deep breath and a sip of the liquid. It was good stuff, probably from Aypierre’s vines. “Thought we were here to have a serious conversation, no?”
“We are.”
Fit stopped, pondered how he would put it in words. It didn’t matter, there was no easy way to put it.
“Pac, would you kill me if it was necessary?”
The scientist sputtered, almost choking on the wine before turning in alarm to stare at the other, his gaze zig zagging across his body as if it would transform at any moment into an enemy, a monster in disguise pretending to be his boyfriend right in front of him.
He didn’t doubt Pac’s abilities, even if Pac himself hardly believed in them. He was an extremely good fighter, going through monsters and battles with a calm demeanor and precise, strong attacks that ended the conflict as soon as possible. Fit was very skilled, himself. But he was sure that if Pac used one of his brilliant plans and his scythe, it would take a lot, but he would eventually come down.
But, for that, he needed to know if Pac would go through with the plan.
“Why, why that, Fitch? Did something happen? Are you feeling weird? Is it…” He got closer. Fit’s heart beated louder. If it was him… if it was him it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is it the Federation, again?”
“No. It’s… the other.”
Understanding downed in his expression. “Oh. Did he contact you again?”
Fit shook his head. “No. But it did say that it would hurt you if I tried to betray our contract and I am not planning to but, Pac, I need to know if you’ll do it. If I become a threat.”
Pac bit his lower lip, thoughtfully. Fit’s muscles relaxed, glad to know he was taking this as a serious worry, not just some unfounded fear.
“We will save you. Just like we did before, just like you did to me, Fitch. I, I will be there for you too, when you need and for as long as you need, if you’re gone we will bring you back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t, but, if I have to kill you, Fit… how will I tell this to Ramón? Or Sunny? WHo is going to be her bodyguard? And what about the morning crew? Are we supposed to just… stay?”
“You are all very strong and I am sure that-”
“No.” His voice was determined, sad. His hands gestured widely. “No, no, no. I am not leaving you behind, Fit. What about when I’m in danger, who will rescue me? Who will share the island’s fofoca with me? Or give me a refrigerator full of food on the first date? Or kill the eye workers when they attack or tease Tubbo when he goes on a date with Fred, or help us to take care of Sunny, or, or, or…” Fit held the other’s hands, squeezing it tight when he started to talk too fast, snapping Pac out of his thoughts, making him take a big breath. “No. You can’t go away, Fitche. Never. I won’t let them take you too.”
Oh.
Oh.
Yeah, that… that made sense.
This was Pac, who the first thought when seeing his friend being drugged and controlled by the Federation was going under the same treatment so he could find a cure for it. The one who forgave Cellbit in a heartbeat when he told him he had changed. Who refused to kill him - even before the date, when Fit couldn’t even put in words his feelings for the other - during Purgatory. Who threw himself into mines and danger easily without thinking twice and would do all of it again an again if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe, even when the Federation kept taking his family one day after the other. He would do it in a heartbeat.
It made sense he didn’t want to lose another one. He was smart, strong, kind… Fit would trust him with his life into his hands in a blink of an eye.
But…
“If I hurt Ramón, Pac. If ever get close to hurt any of the eggs…”
“I will lock you, Fit. And I, we! We will find a cure again. None of them will die and you don’t need to die either.”
“Do you promise?”
Pac nodded, composure and eyes kept firm in their place, holding him down and reminding him he was no longer on this alone. “I promise, Fit. And if your boss cat comes here to hurt them… Then we will kick his butt, right?”
Fit snorted, if it was anyone else, he would doubt, throw their words away as a senseless attempt to comfort him, without true meaning. His boss was god, some kind of entity with power enough to pull him out of a world of literal destruction and throw him into a dimension where all of it never existed. However, this was Pac. Both he and Mike have proven over and over again that there was no place, no rule, no limit that they weren't able to overcome and laugh at their face when the managed to overcome it.
Maybe… If it was him.
He could believe it. Besides, Pac did promise that he wouldn’t let him hurt the children. They were always the priority, afterall
“Yes, we will. Thank you, Pac.” He took a deep breath. Since he already started, he could as well…
Talk. About stuff.
“Sometimes I… worry about, uh, what I can do.”
(Kill. Maim. Destroy. Break it down piece by piece until there is nothing left. Watch in the shadows and continue his way quietly through all the screams.)
Pac understood what he meant. “Oh. It’s fair. I think, it must be hard, when you think about it…” He then squeezed his hand before letting them go, starting to count on his own fingers. “But, I don’t think you should worry about it, Fitch. You can do a lot of awesome things, too! You’re a really good cooker, you can make very cool bombs and explosions, you’re good at hide and seek, at saving me when I am down. You are also very good at hiking and training, which makes sense, right? With how muscular and great you are, also-”
“Pac,” Fit voice’s took a firm tune, pulling Pac from his rambling and immediately catching his attention, wide black eyes turning at him attentively. “Pac, I was made for killing. All of this is just…”
(It doesn’t matter.)
“Nah.”
Fit blinked once, twice, quite astonished at how nonchalant the scientist sounded. Stared at those beautiful, soft eyes that watched him with a playful light that somehow nothing on the Island had been able to destroy. Strong. “Sorry?”
“I don’t think you were made for killing, Fit. No one is only able to do one thing and everyone can change. Besides… it gave you a lot of skill, right? Surviving there. That is why you’re one of the best fighters on the island, Fit! The codes, the eye workers… even Cucorucho is no match for you. You’re so strong, fierce, cool, fit and,” Pac’s determined tune tripped a little bit as his words got faster and a tad more distracted, his eyes deviating from his stare, looking at his face, arms, torso… Fit would be lying if he said he didn’t like how it hovered for a little while on his chest and muscles, “and you’re good looking too! Awesome, ruthless, muscular, handsome...”
“Ahalright!” Fit cut him before his face melted from how hot it felt, the tip of his ears feeling like they were on fire.
His voice seemingly broke Pac out of his mind and made him immediately attempt to hide his face on his hoodie, trying to jump away to hide and being stopped by the gentle hand still holding his, keeping him close. That didn’t prevent more embarrassed snickers from also filling the air. “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.”
“Take it easy, big boy, take it easy.”
Fit only laughed harder when the teasy nickname made the other shout in protest, a light hit landing on his shoulder. It successfully distracted him enough so his head peaked again from the deepness of his blue hoodie, so Fit counted it as a win. Especially when a playful gleam took over Pac’s glare.
“Actually, Fitch, I think you were made for something.”
“Oh, you think so?”
Pac got closer, smiling, nodding in such an innocent way that could only mean trouble.
“Yeah, for kisses.” He laid his head on his shoulder and Fit could feel goosebumps travel his entire body from the skin contact. His voice became lower, slower, certain. “Can I kiss you, Fit?”
Fit definitely didn’t bluescreen, half words and meaningless sounds leaving his mouth in a string of incoherency that lasted a couple of minutes before he finally managed to get himself together enough to shove an actual sentence, with a too high pitched tune, through his throat. “I-I mean, of course you can, Pac! If, ah, if you want to.”
Pac’s answer was a single kiss placed in his collarbone before the brazilian focused his administrations on his neck. Soft, warm lips leaving a trail of tingles and electricity whatever they touched. Fit could feel the care in each one and it felt… nice.
Cozy.
Warm.
Tickly.
Ok, actually, it was very, very tickly.
Fit closed his eyes and turned his face around, trying to hide the beginning of a smile that grew bigger with every light - so, so, so light - peck grazing his skin. Not wanting to actually ruin the sweet moment between them, especially after Pac got the courage to ask for what the mercenary had been wanting to do for a while.
(Cuddle and kiss his boyfriend. Oh god, when did he become such a softie?)
The problem with his hiding tactic is that it only left more spots in the open for Pac to attack and bash in attention, not leaving a single patch of skin alone without a caring goodbye kiss, unknowingly breaking piece by piece Fit’s barriers.
He twitched when his boyfriend got too close to the line of his jaw, the warmth racing up to the tip of his ears in a way he hoped that Pac didn’t realized. The one with blue hoodie and attentive eyes stopped in a hitched breath. Waited.
Fit got his racing heart and tickly tingles under control. He was not going to lose to a few accidental tickles. He was not.
He squeezed Pac’s and drew circles on the back of his hands, turning at him with a teasy smirk and crooked eyebrows.
“Oh, is it my turn now?”
Pac giggled and shook his head. “Wait, wait, I still got…”
Without finishing his sentence he dived and placed a light kiss right under his chin, successfully catching the other out of guard and making one of various locked snickers wheezily flee from his lips, quickly being followed by others when Fit tried to cover his smile, turning around once again.
“Oh, god, I am doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Pac pushed himself away and grumbled, starting to search in his pockets for his warpstone, increasing the other’s snickery fit. “Ok, ok, that is it.Thank you so much for calling, I had an incredible time so now I am going to throw myself off the Cristo Redentor and then go to bed, good night, Fit. Tell Ramón I loved him and tell Richas to take a shower, bye.”
“No, no, Pac. Calma, calma.” Fit held one of his wrists, pulling Pac back to his place on the sofa, chasing his black eyes when they kept running away from his while the scientist kept shaking his head from side to other in a dramatic despair. Fit ended up resting his other hand on his cheek, guiding his look back. “I would never laugh at my brazilian boyfriend.” He tried to not grin smugly when that melted the other’s pout in a shy smile “The kisses just tickled me, that is all.”
That immediately brought Pac’s attention. “Wait, Fit… you’re ticklish?”
“It seems like I am, but I am not sure. Not a lot of chances for bonding and laughing when fighting for your life in 2b2t.”
“Oh, I see.” Silence, Pac’s wrist wiggled out of his hold and suddenly there were warm hands flying to his neck, fingertips dancing on it, blunt nails and wiggly fingers tickling the sensitive spot softly. “So, you’re ticklish.”
Fit huffed a laugh at the strange feeling, instinctively scrunching up his neck all while he tried to not pry Pac’s hands away. Same hands that now spidered their way up to his ears, tracing them and giving each one a few scratches, Pac watching in awe as their tips became more and more colored with each passing second.
“Oh my god, Fit, your ears are so red! Are you blushing? That is really, reeeally cute, you know?”
Fit’s shoulders began to shake slightly with the effort to keep all the giggles and laughter trapped inside, the task growing more and more difficult as Pac kept his exploring. Fingers tapping their way down to the mercenary’s ribcage, making his torso twitch from one side to another as they started skittering up and down, tracing senseless drawings and forms on the spot. Another fleeing snigger escaped from his firmly pressed lips. There was no way such light, barely even touching touch could tickle that much.
“You can laugh it out, Fit. I bet it will feel much better! Besides,” the gleam in his eyes got sharper and Pac didn’t really lower his voice, but something in his tune changed, a turning point that made a shiver run down Fit’s spine. It didn’t feel like something truly dangerous but alerts began flashing in his mind when the touch became just a tad firmer.
Fit had to push down the squirms that threatened to push the other away. “You can’t just keep all that laughter only for yourself, now, that wouldn’t be fair. No, no, not fair at all. Keeping all those giggles and snickers hidden from me. Trapped inside. They deserve to be free, you know? So everyone can see how cute they are.”
“Pac…”
But then Pac started digging and his barrier broke. Loud laughter immediately followed the hands vibrating in between his ribs, scribbling, looking for any special spot that would make Fit go insane. Not that he was very far from this, now, head being thrown backwards with how strong his crackles were, because nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the feeling that was being tickled, to have each nerve screaming but not in pain, to have each touch bring a new kind of electricity that traveled his torso and filled his heart with a warmth that made him want to jump out of the sofa and at the same time bring Pac closer.
A curious prodding in a spot in his highest ribs that was almost on his back and Fit slammed his body on the cushion, a snort being pried from his lips and quickly being followed by another and another when the fingers kept drilling and kneading on the spot non stop.
Then he heard it, low as a whisper.
“Beautiful….” It came in an awed voice, and in between half lidded eyes Fit saw the one with black hair shake his head, as if getting himself together before slowing down the tickling, thumbs rubbing the remnant tickles as he stared at him. “Sorry, Fitch, I, caham, I got, uh, distracted. Are you okay?”
He nodded, chuckles taking over his words and disappearing with any hope of saying something without descending in more of a waterfall of giggles. Still, he tried, the proud smile in Pac’s face erasing his embarrassment in how silly he sounded giddy like this.
“I’m fine, just surprised that I am dating a tickle monster.”
The brazilian laughed, shaking his head and hiding his face on Fit’s shoulder. “Não, não, não (No, no, no). Mike is actually the tickle monster in our team. I just learned a lot from playing fights with him.” Pac trembled in an exaggerated shudder. “He is merciless.”
“Really?”
“Uh hum.” Pac hummed, thoughtful, before doing a little ‘pop’ sound, hands washing down to his sides, tapping senselessly there. “He had this kind of attack where he would be talking to you and suddenly he would start to tickle you and like, it would be really, really light so you didn’t actually, you know, like, died laughing? But at the same time it would be crazily ticklish! Following you around no matter how much you squirmed or snickered.”
“P-pac, come on…”
The other just hummed, still talking and hands still spidering in their resting position, taking turns in between drawing circles on his sides, feeling how his torso would shake with a new round of chuckles blossoming anew, and scratching the little dive of his hips to make them grow faster.
“Then he would try to keep a conversation going and complain like ‘are you even paying attention to what I’m saying, what’s going on?’ as if he didn’t know what was happening, can you believe?! And you couldn’t just… walk away or keep silly giggling non stop and not answer him, because you’re still in a conversation and that would be rude, right? So you’re just there, laughing and wiggling and it always drives me crazy!”
Fit nodded, knowing the feeling very well, in his opinion. His brain trying to pay attention to his words but getting totally distracted by his own attempts to not wiggle around so much because everytime his body trashed to one side, Pac would just dig his fingers on his sides and drum, which made him jump in the other direction only to receive the same treatment, creating a maddening cycle almost impossible to escape from.
Once again, laughing began flooding the room, high pitches and wheezy giggles chasing around one or two squeals when a tentative squeeze grazed the spot before quickly jumping away, the unexpected playful attacks blending with the soft scribbles and somehow making him not being able to predict nor prepare for one or the other.
“And then, out of nowhere he would get bored and that is where it lies the danger, Fitch.” Pac’s voice took a turn to a lower tune, torn between a warning and a threat. His tickling came to a halt, fingertips just laying on his waist with occasional twitches. What was more strange, though, was how, even so, the janitor couldn’t stop the titters taking over his mind and body. He wondered if that was how he would finally die, undone and destroyed by his very lovely boyfriend. Pac snickered in mischief and amusement, breaking his mask for a couple of seconds before cleaning his throat and coming back to his persona, interlocutor voice back again.
“Because, when he stops it means that he is getting bored. You know that he is getting bored and he knows that you know that he is getting bored and that it is just a matter of time before he decided that is enough and something happens” he highlighted the word by spidering quickly across his ribs. His voice sounded like it was closer. “So you just stay there, quiet, waiting for the moment he will strike.”
Fit held his breath, eyes closed. His smile was so big that it traveled from one ear to the other. No more laughter was falling from his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with the phantom tickles that freely pricked his skin and seemed to follow his every squirm. Pac’s hands felt warm - dangerous - where they touched and he was pretty sure that his entire face would melt at some point of this game.
He waited.
Waited.
Nothing.
A kiss was pressed on his forehead.
He opened an eye, muscles immediately untensing and relaxing with the scene, even if adrenaline still ran without control in his veins, of Pac happily smiling, just a few centimeters from his face.
“Oi, Fitch.”
“Roi, Pa-ACK!”
Loud, uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter filled the room, Fit still tried to finish his sentence before giving up and succumbing to the snorts and wheezing that took over his laughter. Squeezes, drumming and prodding attacked his sides, kneading on the ticklish spot before scratching their way up to his ribs, burying themselves there and then keeping their way up to his armpits - poking and scribbling and making him lock his arms on his torso - until it got to his ears, changing the loud peals of booming laughter to a hysterical string of snickers only to make he go back to crackling when he attacked his sides again and again, alternating between each and every tickle spot so he couldn’t picture where he was going to tickle next.
Fit could even swear that at some point he felt a squeeze in his knees that fished a chortle from his lips and an uncontrollable kick from his legs.
It lasted only a couple of minutes. All the electricity and tickly buzzing teased and made him laugh like nothing else mattered, loud and free even when, between his own amused giggling, Pac ceased his mean attack and watched with a giant grin as the other tried to regain his breath, a light blush dusting his face.
“You were saying, Fitch?”
Nonsense. That was exactly what Fit was about to say. Because his brain kind of became a mush after all that attack and the airy giggles that kept flowing from his throat didn’t exactly help him to gather his thoughts nor fade the hotness running still on his face.
“I, er, huh…” and there it was, the sentence got lost to jumpy snickers again. Fit brought a hand to hide them and try to gain at least save a bit of face, but a quick poke on his defenseless armpit made it go immediately down again. He glared without any real heat at his boyfriend, who lifted his arms in rendition.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m done for real, now.”
The silence was extended for a few pieces of time, stretching across them like a cat after a nap.
Fit was the one who broke it.
“That is Mike’s…” He coughed, cleaning his throat “special tickle attack, then? I can see why you call him merciless.”
“Nah, actually that is my own technique. Mike prefers to catch a person out of guard and tickle while taunting them until they promise to make something for him.”
The surprised, amused huff of laughter that came out from the mercenary’s mouth didn’t have anything to do with wiggly fingers this time and Pac joined him.
“You’re such a sneaky guy, Pac, you’re such a sneaky guy.”
“Thank you. Gotta learn from the best right? Maybe someday me and Ramón will team up and win the hide and seek against you.”
“Hmm, you probably would. But maybe I can convince Richarlyson to help me?”
“It would be good. Richas is the best in hide and seek. He would really like to. Hey! We should set up a playdate with them in our Hide and Seek arena. We can even call Tubbo and Sunny, maybe even Philza with Chayanne and Tallulah, if they are awake. The more the merrier, right?”
Fit was sure that if he was shapeshifter like Tubbo, without even wanting to, his eyes would be heart shaped. It never ceases to amaze him how Pac could accept and love everyone - him - like they were and would always be a family to him.
“But, so?” The brazilian wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk opening in his face. “How is it the experience of being tickled for the first time?”
Maddening. Tortuous. Able to make someone go crazy, he was sure. Surprisingly tiring and unexpectedly effective. Strange. Itchy. A lot. Hard to explain.
But also, it was extremely caring. Warm. Soft. Funny. Bonding. Weird. Extremely silly. He couldn’t stop his smile and thoughts about the gleam and shine in Pac’s eyes when he discovered a new spot or how - strangely enough - light and giddy he was feeling right now.
Besides, he never was self conscious about his laughter or anything but listening to Pac calling him… beautiful, in such an amazed voice… Well, his ego really couldn’t complain.
“It was fun.” He decided to go with that, a playful grin in his face, his hands holding Pac’s and intertwining their fingers.
“Oh, I’m happy in hear that! Actually, I-”
“But…” Fit cut him, purposely deepening his voice in a tune that never failed to catch the other of guard, sending a cold shiver through his muscles. “I can think of something even more fun.”
“Y-yeah?” Pac’s blush deepened when he looked at the dangerous, sharp, determined shine in Fit’s eyes, his entire mind getting overcomed with a choir of excited screams, burning face at realizing how their intertwined hands was both a soft gesture and a restrain.
Damn, he was really, really gay.
“Uh hm,” his tune now was almost like a purr of a predator watching his prey wobbly smile back and hold his hands tighter together, knowing very well his fate and still not even trying to escape from it. “It’s something that back on 2b2t we liked to call… revenge.”
With a swift move he pulled their hands and lead Pac to lose his equilibrium, falling backwards on his lap, one hand keeping his arms up and the other lifting his hoodie just the slightest bit, the actual perfect amount for him to immediately shove his face on his stomach and start blowing raspberry after raspberry, quick and ruthless.
“FITCHE!” The sound that came out of his mouth could barely be called a word, the high pitched shout being quickly taken over by a hysterical crackling that made his entire body shake with each laughter.
His boyfriend just chuckled, lifting his head just enough that his next words would be audible to the other, each one buzzing on the ticklish skin and making tiny, tickly electric shocks dance freely across it. “Oh my, Pac, what a delicious belly you got right here. One of the richest, rarest delicacies I’ve ever seen.”
“NONONO, FITCH!” He kicked and trashed, trying to roll away from his predicament but being firmly held in place by the other, which was kind of nice, since he wasn’t sure how to explain to Fit that he definitely wasn’t going to run away if he had the chance.
Still, that didn’t stop the fast, airy and high giggles of painting every syllable of his pleas that began flowing like a stream from his lungs, becoming more and more intelligible with each protest. “Please, please, Fitch anything but that! I will do anything you want! Do you wanna know all Mike’s most ticklish spots? Eu posso te dizer! (I can tell you!) he has this place right under his knees that if you poke he starts making ‘wee’ sounds e é muito engraçado (it’s very funny) Fitche por favor, espera, espera, wait!”
“Sorry, Pac, nothing I can do. I just have to try a little. Raspberries are so delicious and I just… I just gotta, ya know? I just gotta try a little, the tiniest little bit.” He lowered his head once again, carefully and softly nibbling on the ticklish skin and doing a bunch of ‘oh nom nom nom’ sounds as he did so, smugly relishing in how louder Pac’s laughter sounded at this, random portuguese and english being mixed in a series of incoherent talking that he couldn't even hope to understand, even with the translator.
The raspberries and nibbles began taking turns, dancing all across his stomach and sometimes even escaping to attack one lower rib or two in a way that usually drove Ramón crazy. It was kind of funny and endless endearing to realize that both of his boys were extremely weak for the same kind of tickle attack.
All the while Pac was simply dying. There was no other way to describe it. He was utterly and completely dying, losing every tread of.. everything that wasn’t thinking about how much it tickled and laughing both because Fit (Fit!!!!! His boyfriend Fit!!!!) was teasing and tickling him and also because as it seems he was the goofiest dork that ever existed in this world while doing that and somehow that made all the butterflies flying crazy on his belly and tickly electricity following his nerves one hundred times worse and ticklish and it was amazing.
Fit enjoyed a couple more minutes of the silly attack, fondly realizing how much more hysterical and loud the crackles got everytime he added more “hmmm” and “nom nom nom” sounds.
“There we go, big boy.” He lifted his head and got a glimpse of a gigantic, dazzling smile and a red face before Pac immediately hid it behind his hands, wheezes and snickers filling the room.
“Shuhuhut up!”
Fit grinned, but let go of the teasing and took pity on his brazilian boyfriend. He could quite understand why Pac seemed so happy in destroying him minutes ago. There was just a something that made his heart beat faster just in realizing that he was the reason why Pac was so happy and giggly.
Also, the way that the brazilian’s accent got stronger, especially while saying his name in between unstoppable, uncontrollable giggling… Fit thinks he could live with that, yeah.
“Oh my god, Fitche… and you call me merciless.”
The ex-mercenary chuckled. His eyes hovered over Pac’s face, making sure that he was still breathing and alive (he hadn’t taken too far, did he?) when suddenly his look got attracted to his neck, the memory of what started all of this popping like a flashing lamp in his mind.
“Pac…” It was the low voice again, lighter, but still there. Pac’s entire body froze still for a second and alarmed eyes turned to stare Fit, who seemed strangely fixated on his hoodie. “Is your neck ticklish?”
Oh.
Oh.
Pac 100% blamed the gay screaming in his head for his next words.
“YES!” The shout was as excited as it was loud, making both of them wince at it, Fit looking at the one with black hair with a faintly surprised, crooked eyebrows. “I mean, er, assim, uh, no!!! It’s actually not! NOt even a little bit! What even is ticklish, you know? I don’t even speak english, senhor Fitch eme ce, na verdade, essa é a minha primeira vez aqui na ilha, quem é você e… Não!” (sir Fit eme cee, actually, this is my first time here in the island, who are you and… No!)
The babbling was promptly cut when, once again, Fit chuckled in mischief and shoved his head on Pac’s neck.
Butterfly kisses followed the line of his jaw, attacked that spot under his chin, tickled the place where the collarbone and the neck met, each patch of sensitive skin getting a kiss and a raspberry as a gift, making a series of snorts and high dazed giggles quickly follow the initial surprised shriek and jump around the entire room, Pac’s arms coming to rest on the other’s chest, partially pushing him away and partially holding him, legs kicking behind them with how much adrenaline and giddiness jumped across his muscles and filled his heart.
Pac hid his face on the crook of Fit’s neck, attempting to at least survive a few more seconds from dying of embarrassment, each snort and hysterical high pitched snicker sealing even more his fate and putting another nail in his coffin.
A few curious squeezes on his sides and a final, long raspberry and then Fit finally let him go, watching as the other got his breath again, forgetting for once to hide his blush and brilliant smile into his hoodie, looking completely lost in his own laughing fit. Adorable.
Sometimes Fit wondered how could he be so lucky.
A loud click and a flashing light brought both of them out of their thoughts. Pac almost falling from the sofa when he turned around and saw Ramón quickly hid a camera behind his back while passing three copies of the pictures to Richas, who stopped making gagging noises to hide them on his protected backpack before the adults could take it.
“Richarlyson, Me dá essas fotos!” (Give me those pictures!)
“Ramón, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. It’s late.”
Ramón had the sense to look at least a tad admonished, but the expression quickly disappeared when Richas began jumping on the same spot, wiggling from one side to another like he always did when he wanted to cause more mischief. The kids exchanged a look.
“Nenê (Baby), no. Don’t follow Richas’ example, he is a little demon.”
The sandal that went flying across the room and hit the brazilian in the face - which actually led to him falling from the cushions - only further proved this fact. Still, Richas let out plenty of offended noises while getting his sandal back, showing off his tongue when Ramón shoved him and shook his head in disapproval.
Fit tried his best to not laugh and sound serious. “Richas, do not hit your dad.”
“Don’t worry, Fitch.” Pac tapped his arm, getting up from the floor, tsking. “There is no other way, I guess. I’ll have to kill him. Yeah, it was fun to have a son for a while.”
The mercenary laughed, knowing very well how much of a weak heart Pac had for his little troublemaker. “Calma, calma, Pac. I think I have the solution. Since the kids are feeling so… energetic, we should probably tire them out before putting them back in bed, right?”
He also got up and gave Pac a Look, pretending to not see Ramón pulling Richas’ sleeve and exchanging warning words to him, knowing very well what that playful, dangerous shine in his dad’s eyes meant.
Pac grinned, mirroring his own devilish expression. “I think you’re right, Fit.”
Richas once again wiggled around in energy, his dragon tail tapping on the floor while Ramón threw a flower at Pac (smart boy, Fit thought, winning the melting heart from the dad that would have more mercy, very smart) and jumped on the same place, smiling and nodding in excitement.
He then pulled Richas away, starting the chase. Pac immediately following behind with joyfuls “I’m gonna catch you!”.
Fit chuckled.
Maybe Pac was right.
Maybe life - he - was more than just die and kill.
Well… he rolled his shoulders and followed his family in their game, laughing excitedly. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted, then.
#I couldn't help myself. I just HAD to make Pac's accent getting stronger when he is being tickled. I JUST HAD TO.#One day I will write a tickle fic where someone learn the word 'cosquinha' and keep teasing the brazilians about it that day is not today#Because I Would Die. Fall on the floor completely dead.#Fit: I'm a monster Pac // Pac twirling his hair giggling kicking his legs: that man could destroy me hehehe#Sometimes I worry for their mental health#Fit: *is silly* // Pac: *internal non stopping gay screaming*#Pac: a // Fit: You're absolutely right#qsmp tickles#qsmp tickling#Switch!Fit#Switch!Pac#Ticklish!Fit#Ticklish!Pac#Kanene's fic#Kanene's fanfic#Still not over Pac saying that he would kiss marry and kill Fit and Fit answering with 'I like my man dangerous' like GET OUTTTT#I'm going to become homphobic in the end of this I am telling you I can no longer take this I had to keep pausing their date because-#-*I* KEPT GETTING GIDDY AND EMBARRASSED LIKE GET OUT OF HEREEEEE YOU'RE MADDLY IN LOVE YEAH WE KNOWWW#Fun fact here Fit prefers to tickle attack his loved ones with raspberries and stuff because he doesn't trust his hands to be gentle :D#Sorry :')
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The Shine in My Eyes (Can Someone Turn Off The Lights?)
Kanene’s notes: Heya heyaaa! I received that request AGES ago and thank you very much for your patience, bean! I hope you like the story, even tho I strayed from the original prompt.
I didn’t proofread it because I really wanted to post it as soon as I could sdfghjjhgfd so maybe some parts are confusing or repetitive, pls just hmu if that is the case ^.^)
Warnings: Light angst and hurt/comfort. Light and rough tickles. Ticklish!Reader and Ler!Moon. Around 4.000 words. Can be platonic or romantic. Sun is mentioned.
[~*~]
“Sleep?” The raspy voice questioned, so quiet that you would almost believe that it was part of your imagination if it wasn’t the amount of times you heard that same question in the last months. It spiked a warm feeling on your chest.
You would almost smile if it wasn’t the mild headache taking over your entire brain.
“No.”
Cold, metallic hands touched your elbow, leading to an involuntary flinch that quickly disappeared when your mind catched up to whom the hand was. Moon continued, traveling his hands upwards your arm with careful, light and slow touches, telegraphing his movements enough that you could perfectly picture his form slouched next to you on the couch, head tilted, attentive eyes watching your body language and scans looking for signals of distress. It was good that you didn’t even need to open your own eyes to see that, knowing pretty well that doing so would only aggravate your pain.
Frustration ran hot on your throat, making you clench your jaw in response. Your eyes itched, still aching after hours staring at the computer’s screen after an entire morning of going out to do chores and shopping. There was an uncomfortable pressure on the back of your head. Yesterday it all wasn’t good either. This sucked. This really sucked.
Moon pulled you up from the urge to give up to the darkest thoughts peeking on the corner of your mind by taking the light fabric over your eyes and changing it for another one, damp from being recently bathed in cold water. A relieved sigh flees through your lips, your fists unclenching (when did you start pressing your nails in your palms again?) and being lifted to clean a couple of stray tears that now ran across your cheeks.
Two bigger hands overlapped yours, silicone digits wiping the water away before a humming began filling the air. You could almost picture the way the animatronic’s body was swaying from one side to another in the rhythm of the lullaby.
“Fuzzy, fuzzy.” The touch quickly changed directions so it would be playing with your hair, massaging and scratching your scalp with the skill of an animatronic that passed weeks fixated on human hairs and would spend another plentiful of weeks being amazed by their softness, form and type, waiting for you to lower your guards so he could try to convince you to let him try another hairstyle. Maybe you should consider buying them a wing. Sun would love it. You could almost hear the uncontrollably, excited rambling already. A small grin grazed your lips. A finger booped your nose. “You’re fuzzy because you’re tired. Sleep. Go to sleep.”
“Contrary to your belief, sleep doesn’t solve all the problems in the world.” Moon huffed at the lightheaded poke of fun, instead choosing to pinch your poor nose in retaliation. You swatted at his general direction, knowing very well it wouldn’t hit the target nevertheless. It was the thought that counts. “Besides, if I take a nap now it will destroy my sleep schedule for today. I am at least trying to keep it healthy.”
More like, you had now two animatronics that would either began to fuzz over your bad habits, nervously twisting his fingers and anxiously spinning his sunrays, hovering and doing his best to make you feel better while trying to not overstep any boundaries and respect your (bad) choices or follow you at night with light steps and clicking sounds, calmly and happily accompanying you through your chosen night activities while also attempting to subtly nudge you to the direction of your room (and, consequently, your bed).
Of course, every now and then all of you would have your missteps. Some days Sun would tremble uncontrollably and hug you tightly when you tried to go out, chatting non stop over your and Moon’s attempts to comfort him. Another nights you would move too quickly or suddenly and Moon’s eyelights would go to a bright red and he would tackle you on the floor, body frozen on a security code he no longer had, but that still affected him. Other weeks everything would feel too much and you would push them far and away and wonder when it all came to this. Why did all came to this.
But…
But then there were also be days where Sun would skip around the house, a happy humming that made his entire circuits vibrate - and kind of reminded you of a cat - on the tip of his tongue, a batch of homemade cookies or a new colored drawing waiting for you after a long day. There would be moments when your presence and Moon’s comforting, teasy banter would be able to make his sunrays twitch less anxiously and for him to smile brighter, every shoulder bump, every poke, every half hug and every lingering touch would be a promise and a confession (I am here I am here I care I am here).
There would be moments when Moon would come at your room with his hands once again tangled in a mess of yarn’s strands and he would grumble at your light pokes of fun and refuse to tell about his new project so he could catch you and Sun by surprise and tease you both about your reactions afterwards. There would be nights when he would be frozen and twitchy and feel the worst because he can’t get his body to move and you would start telling him about your day, about a funny meme you saw on internet and and interesting something he maybe didn’t know yet about humans or the world that exists around them, and then, bit by bit, he would be able to move (his entire systems blastring friend friend my friend my dear friend over and over above the instinct of threat catch eliminate) and you would watch a movie.
And there would be moments when you gave them surprise gifts because it seems like their wonder about the world, the universe and humanity would never disappear no matter how much time they spent out of that mall. There would be days they would leave warm dishes and hot drinks on your desk, when they would hug and hold you close when you were ready to face them, when they would listen to you and sing soft lullabies or distract you with games and banter until a smile and a soft feeling took over the sadness and red eyes.
There would be days that you spent looking for new activities or experiences the animatronics hadn’t tried yet, preparing another good memory for them to have. There would be afternoons when Sun would dance with you across the living room because he knew how much you loved that song. There would be evenings when Moon would wipe your tears and distract you from your aching eyes because he knew that bad thoughts are easier to fight when you’re not alone.
Evenings just like this one.
“Thinking too hard.” Moon pressed his thumb firmly on your forehead, pulling you out of your thoughts (again). “Too hard. Must rest. Sush.”
You snorted. “Wow. Thank you, man. I have no idea how I lived until now without your rich life advices.”
“Cheeky brat.” A playful poke was jabbed on your side, fishing a surprised yelp from your lips.
Silence.
“Let’s play a game.”
A jumpy ‘zing!’ ran across your spine at the dangerous and incredibly joyful tune that took over his raspy voice, and you immediately knew that there wouldn’t be another ending for this day other than you becoming a mess of laughter on the couch. Still, even when a wobbly smile stretched on your face you tried to sound firm.
“No.” It didn’t work very well. There was no heat in it, titters already bubbling in the back of your throat. Your arms began moving and flailing in the general direction of his snickers. “Moon, no. Give me your hands. Give me your hands right no-o-ow, come on!” Your words began fading and twinkling in between stubborn giggles and squeaks as a wave of pokes and squeezes began attacking your entire torso from seemingly everywhere.
"Sorrrrry, Moonlight. Can you repeat that?" He was prodding your ribs now, tapping his fingers on each one of them, escaping from your grabbing hands with ease, not taking long before his attack changed to a light pinching of that absurdly vulnerable spot that connected your belly with your sides. His delighted tune showed that he was not sorry at all. "Can't hear you over all of those wiggly giggly giggles. Care to repeat what you just said? Hm?"
His attacks were getting even harder to predict, the cloth on your eyes helping in nothing your current state, actually, the fact that you couldn’t see where he would strike next only made butterflies fly excitedly on your nerves.
Before a reply could leave your mouth, however, his hands began spidering all across your midsection, digits fluttering and dancing on your stomach, barely scratching the sensitive skin next to your bellybutton, teasing and worming their way up and down, from a side to another on your stomach, exploring and tickling every available space until it could calmly rest on your hips, still softly scribbling the ticklish spot with no worries in his heart.
It was hard to not squirm with the tickles, even more so to control the yelps and chuckles that kept falling from your mouth like a waterfall. Especially with Moon's taunting squeezes that never failed to appear when you never expected and fish a squeaky snort.
You tried to talk once again.
He digged his fingers just the slightly bit on the flesh of your hips.
Your hands flew to hold his wrists, lips pressed firmly shut with the willpower that he, the evil jester, the mean clown wouldn't get not even a single more yelp from you.
"I think someone wants to laugh. ~" The whispering wasn't even that close, the animatronic not even having a breath to make it so taunting but you still felt the urge to scrunch your neck and protect your sensitive ears, knowing very well they were one of their favorite places to attack. "Someone here, a very ticklish, very giggly and silly-silly-silly someone wants to laugh sooo much right now… isn’t that right, starlight?"
His hands (still being held but not pushed away by yours) calmly crawled across your sides, drumming on your ribs and still going up until both of them laid on your shoulders, scribbles and scratches leading their way up to your chin, leading your squirms even worse with all the giddy anticipation that traveled across your nerves and made it hard to stay still in the same place.
"Such precious, beautiful laughter and giggles trapped right here." He tsked, one of his hands traveling slowly - all his movements now were surprisingly and still slow, as if he was telegraphing his moves for you - to tease the underline of your jaw. "Greedy, greedy. Wanting to keep all of your adorable reactions all for yourself. You need to learn to share."
His voice was closer. Much closer than before. Danger sirens blasted on your brain but the effort to not laugh and succumb to the ticklish scratches now focusing on unfairly attacking the shell of your ears and the spot right behind them distracted you too much to realize what was about to happen. Why was his voice closer?
A low, half filled with joy and half with mischief chuckle filled the air. And suddenly you knew the answer.
“Moon, don’t you dare-!” But it was too late, the unbearable buzzing already taking over your senses, the raspberry spreading like electricity across every single inch of ticklish skin on your neck, pulling all the laughter, all the squeaks, snorts and titters from their hiding spots, making a smile stretch from a side to another on your face.
It didn’t last more than one or two minutes, however. And soon enough Moon was changing and re-adjusting the cloth over your eyes since the last one was already dry and it had fallen from its place with all the struggles. It was dark and your vision was still slightly blurry, but the smirk over the other’s faceplate was crystal clear, his head spinning twice before it bobbed in your direction.
You mentioned for him to come closer, giggles still running away from your mouth uncontrollably. When he did as asked, your hands held his face with care, thumbs caressing the metal of his cheeks, red eyes watching your expression with adoration and wariness.
“I…” You took a good gulp of oxygen, letting your voice in a sweet, lovely tune, giant smile still plastered on your features. “Will destroy you once I’m free.”
The wheezing sound that came out of his system was loud and uncontrollable, a few parts of his exoskeleton clicking non stop in a kind of amusement that only happened when his guard was down and he was caught by surprise.
You probably just made it even worse to yourself. It was clear for the way that Moon’s eyes squinted until they looked like a crooked smile.
But the promise was worth it. Maybe you could even ask for Sun’s help. His teases were basically unbearable to endure.
“Lay down, lay down, troublemaker.” Careful touches pushed your shoulders so they would go back to a laying position, the piece of fabric being again put over your eyes and bringing a sense of cold relief. It almost made up for the fact that you were walking to a trap.
Well, at least it was a comfortable one.
“Perrrrrfect.” You felt Moon lifting your legs, sitting on the free space on the couch and then laying said ones on his lap. “You laughed, now it means you have to play my game.~”
You wondered if you would be able to get to your room and lock yourself before the animatronic could catch you.
As if reading your thoughts, two hands locked on the spot right above your knees, not squeezing (not yet) but being close enough that a wobbly tune began painting your grin and the need to wiggle away started itching on your nerves.
“Alright.” You acquiesced, the grumpy pout being quickly erased when a single finger skittered on the ticklish skin under your knees. Cheater. “Alright. What is the game?”
“Say the word.” Confusion must have shown on your face, because Moon continued his sentence. “I write and you say the word, right, squeaky mouse?” As if to confirm his words, he clawed your kneecap, fishing a squeal.
You didn’t answer right away, the squeezes became more and more quicker.
“Ok, ok!!” Kicks did nothing to dislodge the attack, and by the way Moon snickered, he knew very well that. Laughter began bubbling once again on your throat. “I agree! I already agrehehehed, stohohop!”
Satisfied, the animatronic relented his tickling, hands not more touching anything.
Strangely enough that only made you feel even more ticklish, tingles and shivers running and spreading everywhere.
“Guess.”
And then they were back.
The tip of his index finger touches your thigh in a straight line, goosebumps following the scribbling as it changed to lay in the middle of the previous straight line only to make another, tiny, tickly, horribly tickly bolts of electricity teasing the nerves as he repeated the sign, over and over again.
“Guess.”
An only finger dancing and tracing your thigh. It shouldn’t be able to tickle so much. It shouldn’t affect you this much. But it was so light. It was so unbearably light and soft. It was…
It was a letter.
“Ihihihi! It’s an ‘I’!”
“Yesss.” Moon seemed delighted at the snickers, more than happy to see you playing along the silly game and forgetting the reason for your earlier tears. “Second one. Four letters”
He got closer to your knee, but instead of one, now two fingers danced and scratched the sensitive skin, going up - once again in a straight line - before going down and to the right - another line, - repeating the movements thrice before moving to the kneecap, softly tracing circles on it again and again and again and again and-
“Move on!” You could feel the heat creeping on your neck and face, the airy giggles becoming more and more frenetic and uncontrollable as the previous daycare attendant refused to focus his attention elsewhere. He did, however, continue after a few more seconds, not wanting to scramble your thoughts so much.
Moon lifted your leg just a little bit, just enough for him to reach with no problem behind your knee, pulling his touch downwards before going right up, as if his touch was doing little jumps on the spot, zings and more zings of tickly electricity pulling hints of snorts on your reactions.
Lowering his tracing a bit more he arrived to your calf. One straight line up. One to the right. Go a tad downwards the first line. Another line. More downwards. One more line.
He began repeating the tracing. You felt like all of your other tickle spots were tingling in empathy for the calve’s struggles.
“Lohohove! It’s ‘I love’!” A wheeze escaped from your lips and filled the air. Was he really writing I love you? “That is so chehehesy.”
“Sush, sush, sush, cute teapot.” A couple of squeezes. More kicks in protest. “Third word. Five letters.”
Wait. Five?
Now, Moon moved closer to your ankles, three fingers scribbling and drawing the letters, slipping way too close to your soles for it to be only a mistake. It took him having to ‘write’ the word more three times since your brain simply erased any and every knowledge as soon as he felt those nails scraping the skin of your ankles.
“Being!” You shouted, once again descending in breathless laughter and squirms when the animatronic confirmed that your guess was right, firmly rubbing and massaging the sensitive skin so that you could get a break and breathe more steadily.
It took a while before snorts and quiet squeals stopped taking over your voice and your legs stopped tingling and sending shivers across your body. You didn’t even was usually that ticklish on your legs, but the mix of light and soft teases and not being able to see what he would do next making your sensitivity spike to the sky.
The game had a logic, however. Thighs, knees, calves, ankles… If you weren’t mistaken, then the next one would be…
Another ‘zing!’ ran down your spine.
“Last word. Seven letters.”
Seven letters.
I love being…
“Wait, wait, wait!” You tried pulling your legs away, but the hands were keeping them nice and cozy in his firm grip. The cloth fell from your eyes and you looked for his, an unstable, pleading grin on your face. “Moon, wait, you know I can’t!” His eyes only squinted more in mischief, smirk growing on his mouth unashamedly. That son of a- “I can’t say it, Moon, please! I swear Moon, I cahahan’t!”
He lifted his hands, fingers wiggling in the air. For a moment you thought that the sentient robot was waving you goodbye since he was about to absolutely kill you dead. But then you heard it.
A faint buzzing, dancing and filling the room.
“No!”
The clawing hand slowly began moving to your feet.
“Last word. Five letters.”
“Don’t you dare!” You had no idea how your voice didn’t break any windows with how high pitched and loud it was, the hysterical, belly laughter already bubbling in the back of your throat as pleas fell like flocks from your lips. “Moon, don’t you dare! No! Come on! Do NOT-”
The buzzing, still discharging small ticklish sparks of electricity touched your sole.
Everything, for a blissful moment, froze.
Then it all came crashing down.
The buzzing filled every single inch of your nerves, tickling in ways that should be illegal, especially as the animatronic - the traitor - began moving to trace the spot as if you could concentrate in the letters being written over all the incoherent babbles and pleas that generously painted the laughter taking over your senses.
You already knew the word that was being written, and was very aware that said one didn’t need all the scratches being delivered to the arch of your feet, or the scribbles that attacked without mercy the balls of your feet and digged under and in between your toes, wiggling and tickling and tickling there without a care in the word.
“I will write it again.” Moon basically purred, sounding too much like the perfect personification of a very smug cat. “Pay attention, gigglebug.”
Before you could protest the fingers were once again traveling across your soles, repeating the attacks and now focusing on all the weak spots they found in their way, fishing plentiful of squeals, squeals, yelps, giggles, titters and snorts in their way.
Everything stayed like that for a few pieces of time. Laughing filling the air, buzzing and tickling taking over every sense. The melodious symphony fulfilling hearts.
And then it stopped.
Moon chuckled, once again rubbing the spot so the ghost tickle feeling would disappear faster, even if your remanent tittering laughter still stretched between you both.
“Did you discover the word?”
You opened your eyes, wiping a few tears that escaped and trying to look chastising at the robot in front of you, although your burrowed frown didn’t hold any heat, especially with the wide smile still blossoming on your face, shining eyes staring directly at him.
Moon only chuckled more.
“Alright, alright. Troublemaker. But one day you’ll have to admit that you love it.~”
Before you could answer with a snarky remark, the animatronic surprised you by picking you up and laying down on the couch, letting you rest on his chest.
“Game is not over. One more sentence.” It was an affirmation, but you lived enough with him to recognize the questioning tune in his words.
“No more.” You established.
He grumbled. You were pretty sure that if he could pout, he would.
Silence.
“Gentle tickles…?”
A sigh left your lungs at the hopeful feeling in his voice.
“… Sssstarlight?”
And how could you ever say no to that?
“Ok. But only light ones.” You agreed. Because when it came to Sun and Moon you had a piece of butter in the place that should be your heart, as it seems.
Moon began carelessly grazing the tip of his fingers on your back, the tickles just light enough to make one or two giggles jump here and there, a pleasant feeling of comfort and softness spreading and relaxing your muscles, making them melt and a warmth to blossom on your chest.
So caring. So comfortable. So soft…
Your mind began drifting away, breaths coming out more steadily, thoughts becoming less and less coherent as the minutes passed by.
You only realized Moon’s plan too late, when your conscience was already slipping away and the tiredness of the day was already catching up.
That freaking cheater.
Well, at least it was probably already late enough that a quick nap wouldn’t hurt.
#Moon in the end rubbing his raccoon hands together and snickering like the demon he is: all according to keikaku#Lee!Reader#Ticklish!Reader#Ler!Moon#Ler!Moondrop#Kanene's fic#Kanene's fanfic#fnaf sb tickles#fnaf sb tickling#If I had a nickel for everytime I had to research a condition to write a xReader fic only to realize that I have that same condition I am wr#I would have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot. But it’s weird that it happened twice.#anyway I just hope I did a good work w this fic and that you liked it anon!#xreader#need to hurry up because I need to take my doggo to the vet so if something is wrong or there isn't enough tags#I will correct it later#See ya!#:D
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The Cat and the Hare (I won't stop running so don't you stop trying to catch me)
Kanene's notes: EVERYONE WAKE UPPPP BECAUSE TODAY IS @squeaky-n-blushy 's BIRTHDAYYYYY and since she and I have a clown to clown communication and a lot of screaming around Pac and Cellbit I wanted to make a fic to celebrate this day and our friendship. Thanks a lot, bean, for being so cool!! <3 <3
And about the fic I am so Unwell about Pac and Cellbit's friendship like WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING HERE YA KNOW??
Warnings: Uhh, I don't think there is any? There is a few mentions of hunting and prey but it's lighthearted and not too prevalent on the fic. Ticklish!Pac and Ler!Cellbit for the win. Around 8.000 words :D
[~*~]
Mike knows, of course.
Sometimes Pac wondered if his soulmate was able to realize what was happening even before he himself did. It was one of the perks and pains of spending your entire life with someone who you could trust blindly with everything that could ever matter and who you knew as the palm of your own hand.
It was quite nice, most of the time.
Except, of course, when Mike decided that he was going to be an insufferable prick about it.
“Não, não, não. Tá na hora de acabar com essa palhaçada.” (No, no, no. Time to end with this bullshit.) The annoyed shout was so out of nowhere that it almost made Pac fall from the roof of the Barbie house, turning to look at the other who was pointing at him with a hammer and seemed two seconds away from hitting him with it. “ ‘Fi, você vai lá falar com ele agora mesmo.” (Dude, you’re going to talk with him right now.)
Pac ignored how his cheeks already began prickling with heat, knowing in the same moment what the other was talking about.
Shit, his feelings must have leaked through their soulbond.
“Qué que ‘cê tá falando, moço, tô sabendo desse negócio que ‘cê tá falando aí não uai.” (Whatcha ya talkin’ about, dude, don’t have any idea watcha you talkin about.)
“Num tá sabendo, é? Não tá sabendo, mas vai começar a saber agora e não adianta ficar me imitando não.” (Dunno, uh? You may not know but you’re going to start knowing right now and mimicking me won’t help you at all.)
Oof, he was with that determined look. There was no escaping for Pac in this one. Mike turned around, got a ladder and climbed it. He ignored the phantom feeling of bubbly giggles that definitely weren’t his began tickling the back of his throat joyfully.
“Porque,” Mike continued. “Se eu tiver que ver o Cellbit mais uma vez e ficar com vontade de ficar dando risadinha que nem o nosso menininho, eu vou explodir esse Murder Mystery todo.” (Because, if I have to see Cellbit one more time and keep wanting to giggle like our little boy I’m going to blow up the entire Murder Mystery)
“Não, Mike!” (Mike, no!)
“ ‘Não, Mike’, nada! Eu vou, Pac. Vou explodir toda essa bagaceira aqui. Quer ver, hein? Quer ver?” (‘Mike, no’, my ass. I’m going to, Pac. I’m going to blow up all this clownery. Wanna see, huh, wanna see?)
“Explode aí então que eu quero ver. Bora, bora, que se dane já isso tudo!” (Yeah, blow it up, then, I wanna see. Let’s go, let’s go. To hell with all of this!)
Both of them stared at each other, Mike with the explosives on his hands and Pac with wide attentive eyes.
Silence passed like a lazy cat across them.
“Eu não, ‘cê tá louco, é? Mó trabalho que deu pra construir essa arena aqui e eu vou lá explodir ela agora.” (No, didya lost ya mind? So much work to build this arena, no way I’m blowin’ it up now.)
The one with blue hoodie crackled, muscles relaxing from being ready to sprint and steal all the tnt before his soulmate could use it in case it wasn’t a joke. Mike’s own laughter also followed his, getting closer until he was sitting by his side in a relaxed manner, green eyes watching him behind his crooked lens.
“Então, você quer que eu te faça cócegas?” (So, you want me to tickle you?)
His tune was nonchalant and Pac could literally feel how chill he was with his own words, perhaps even a little amused with the floating, excited butterflies that immediately appeared on their soulbond with his question.
The fact that Pac loved being tickled and to tickle his friends hadn’t been a secret between them for a long while, now. Had been discovered when they were just two little kids against the world in that orphanage and discussed in a late night whispered conversation in their first prototype of a laboratory.
Mike knew that when, for some reason or not, he would suddenly get giddy, a little shy and a bunch more playful, carrying a giggle on the tip of his tongue and an electricity on his skin, it meant that Pac would love to get into a tickle fight or to become a mess of snickers as Mike kept sneaking the words ‘cócegas’ and ‘cosquinhas’ in their daily interactions and throwing at him one or two pokes of fun.
“Hm, quero dizer… você pode?” (Hm, I mean… you can?)
He scratched the back of his head and avoided his eyes. The one wearing a green creeper shirt squinted at him. That wasn’t Pac usual “I’m feeling too embarrassed and silly but also excited to look at you right now”, it was more like his “uhhh, not sure how to say that you’re wrong uhhh.”
Mike sighed and crossed his arms. He was not going to move from there until this was solved and he knew Pac was fully aware of this by the way the other pouted in defeat.
“Bora, fala logo, Pac.” (C’mon, spit it out, Pac.)
“Você lembra de semana passada, quando o Roier e o Cellbit estavam esperando pela gente na Ordo Theoritas?” (Remember last week when Roier and Cellbit were waiting for us in Ordo Theoritas?)
Mike tried to. Cellbit was a solid part of his family - even if he would have no qualms in immediately calling him out of his bullshit if he showed even a trace of coming back to that asshole he was on the prison - and he really liked Roier a lot but those two were so insufferably in love and happily married when they were together that it was hard to not roll his eyes at it. I mean, he gets it! He was too happily married but you wouldn’t see him around the Spawn or the entire island getting all lovey doey with Mine at every second of their day.
(The fact that Mine was a goodness and that their connection had been difficult and faulty since the first day they got stuck on the island was simply a detail and no, he didn’t want to talk about it.)
Last week has been when the detective found some interesting information in an old abandoned laboratory of the Federation and called everyone for a meeting since it looked like it had potential to be about the eggs or the codes, if Mike wasn’t mistaken. Since he and Pac were around the Favela finishing some buildings at the time, they were the first to get there, finding the meeting room being already occupied by Cellbit and Roier in the middle of a tickle fight, - probably a started by Roier but which Cellbit was clearly winning - probably because they weren’t expecting anyone to appear so soon but also seemed to be too lost in their own silliness to even listen to the sound of the elevator or them arriving.
Mike just loudly complained and threw a few grinning teases at them, not thinking too much about it. Albeit, as it seems, that had been enough to bring Pac’s lee mood back to life.
“Lembrei.” (I remember.)
They looked at each other. Since his hands wouldn’t be necessary, the one with permanently crooked glasses started messing around with the redstone system of the house, trying to fix it for the sixth time. “Bem, isso explica porque é sempre o Cellbit, então. ‘Cê vai pedir pra ele?” (Well, that explains why it’s always Cellbit, then. Are you going to ask him?)
Pac grumbled and flooped on the roof. “Não dá, eu já tentei. Fui tentar puxar uma guerra de cosquinha perto dele com o Richas mas eu travei e no fim eles foram embora. Eu não consigo, Mike, eu não consigo!” (I can’t, I already tried. I tried to start a tickle war next to him with Richas but I froze and in the end they went away. I can’t, Mike, I can’t!)
“Mas tu tem que tomar coragem, Pac. Tem que ir lá e falar mesmo. Se fosse eu, eu falava!” (But you need to be braver, Pac! Gotta get there and ask. If it was me, I would ask.)
“Falava é? Porque eu me lembro muito bem do seu primeiro encontro com a Mine…” (You would, yeah? Because I remember very well about your and Mine’s first date…) Pac’s laughter quickly transformed into a shout when the other pushed him, making him roll across the titles for a few centimeters before stopping. “Tu vai me jogar, homi! Tá doido, é?” (You’re going to make me fall, man! Are you crazy?)
“Sempre fui, sempre fui.” (Always have been. Always have been.)
They chuckled and, in between shoves and jokes, went back to their construction.
Pac thought that the subject had ended there, then, that he would eventually get over his mood and continue his life. But he should’ve known that Mike was too annoying (caring) to let it go.
That was how he ended up like this.
Pac looked up, looking at those brown eyes shine back at him with a mischievous light. He squirmed a bit, but soon it was clear that he was totally trapped on the couch by the investigator’s body, who kept watching his expressions with curiosity and a hint of something else.
(It was hunger. Pac would recognize that glint anywhere.)
The scientist could feel each heartbeat in his chest and every butterfly flying on his stomach, small bolts of electricity scurrying away from his trapped wrist, fingertips twisting, almost being able to touch the sparkles in the air.
“Pac,” there were moments when Cellbit slipped and let one or two of his feline traits escape from his firmly constructed barrier. This time, it was in the way that his voice curled around his name, in a mix of a pleased purring and a warning growl that made a zing shot through his spine. “There’s no need to look so worried, I think you just didn't listen to my question very well in the first time… What is the code, Pac?”
If he wasn’t looking at his friend, he would’ve lost it, but the question was exactly what it looked like: an escape route. It was in the way that the hold of his right wrist loosened a little and how those brown eyes ran across his face - searching, poking, prodding, wanting to know - on the look for any trace of discomfort or fear, getting ready to jump away in the same second if he found anything. Pac was sure that he could just spill the eight numbers he knew by heart and then Cellbit would immediately get up, open the security door to the last phase of their puzzle and let him free to go.
Simple like that.
Quite boring, if he was being honest.
Pac grinned before letting his head fall slightly to the side, brows furrowing in a perfect confused face, voice light and just a tad too innocent.
(He wasn’t really afraid.)
(Cellbit could show himself to be as strong and ruthless as he wanted. Pac always had been the fastest one.)
(Just one of them had been able to get out of Alcatraz after all.)
“ Code? W-what are you talking about, Cellbit? I don’t know any code.”
“The specific numbers that will open the door and let me finally get to the bottom of the mystery that I’ve been puzzling out for one entire week. That code, Pac.”
A small shudder took over his body, whether it was for the lack of his hoodie or the hand that suddenly came to dangerously rest on his side, it wasn’t clear. A wobbly smile blossomed in his face.
That reaction didn’t go unnoticed by the other.
“Uhhh…” Pac pursed and popped his lips, resting his head on the cushions and looking at the ceiling, gaze quickly jumping across the room in a nervous manner. He still could feel those glimmering eyes on him. “I don’t really know any code.”
The fingers began curling on his side, short nails barely scratching the skin, he bit his lower lip.
“You sure?”
(Can I?)
“Y-yeah! I d-don’t even know what you’re talking about, moço. Just saw a sign that said ‘Free Food’ and got in the warplate and boom! Suddenly I’m here with you. We’re both kind of stuck here, you know?” His gaze went back to focus on the other, refusing with all his might to even acknowledge the twitching hand on his side that kept bringing awful tingles and freaking out the butterflies on his belly.
He continued the rest of his sentence in one quick breath.
“It’s not like I am part of the puzzle and was asked to guard the secret code that could lead you to finally getting your final prize since it’s the end of the investigation and deciding to not give it to you. That would be totally crazy. I would never do that. Never, ever, in one billion years. Nuh uh. Nunquinha.”
Cellbit’s left eye trembled in a signal of poorly disguised stress. Bad and Bagi had the same habit. It was quite funny to see.
Pac jumped when the touch suddenly got firmer and a pinch was delivered on his torso. A high pitched squeak quickly scrambled from his lips before he could stop it.
Having already gotten the reaction that he wanted, Cellbit showed him a smile.
Oh no, he was absolutely screwed.
“Alright, Pac. I believe in what you’re saying. You’re part of the family so you would never lie to me, would you?”
The scientist watched as Cellbit’s hand lifted up from its spot on his side and began going upwards, slowly crawling along his torso until it stopped on his forearm, tracing on his skin as the other hand kept his arm all trapped and nice above his head.
His fingertips started dancing and scribbling on the spot, following the goosebumps that tried to run away from the tickles, spreading across his nerves and obliging Pac to firmly press his lips in a thin line, giggles getting ready to jump out at any chance on the tip of his tongue.
The investigator cleaned his throat, calling his attention once again and holding it with analytical eyes. His voice came out rough, slow, savoring every word. “Would you, Pac?”
Pac was glad that he didn’t even try to open his mouth to answer him because, as soon as the sentence was over, those fingers began scribbling on the senseless, ticklish spot that was his inner elbow, nails scraping and fingertips tapping in an absurdly light and soft manner, making a muffled ‘eee’ sound to be present in the back of his throat.
He remembered that he had an answer to give.
“Nuh huh.” He shook his head twice, holding his breath to not let any other reaction escape.
“Ok.”
Eventually, Pac had to look away from him again. He could almost feel how Cellbit kept mapping out the exact points where his smile got bigger and his arm squirmed everytime another unexpected tickle spot was found so he could come back to it later. The tapping continued its way across his biceps, drawing abstract forms on it, taking its sweet to collect all the muffled titters and small twitches before going to the next one. With each step the curious hand got closer and closer to his torso.
His attempt to not look at his demise proved to be fool and only made him lose the way that the investigator’s smirk grew wider at each one of his reactions, fingers momentarily spasming in a desire to dig - quick, ruthless and precise - on any and every ticklish spot again and again and again until he could rip that sweet, precious laughter from his stubborn friend-prey-Pac-fun and make it ring loud and free around the room. Until his protests were so intertwined with snickers and snorts that they would be too lost and make no sense at all. Until he was so high in laughter and giddy with the tickling that he wouldn’t even be able to think about hiding his smile and blush - which, by the way, had already begun consuming his neck in a lovely, lovely way - on his hoodie as usual.
He wanted to discover every sound that he would make and drink on every variation of his laughter, from the lowest chortle to the highest squeal. And, especially, he wanted to purr and tease him about how, even with all the chances, Pac didn’t even try to move his free hand to stop him and was instead watching his every move with those wide excited, joyful eyes.
But no. Cellbit needs to be patient. He needs to first cultivate every giggle, snicker and titter until they were too strong to be stopped and then, after weakening his every barrier so they would finally crumble at the lightest breeze and finally come tumbling down with just the hint of his moving fingers anywhere near him and his ticklish - so, so wonderfully vulnerable and ticklish - spots.
Cellbit could be really good at that. Being patient. Stalking. Watching. Finding openings that could be explored.
(It has been a while since he and Pac had time to play like this.)
The traces and drawed forms continued until he got to his armpit and rested there. Tapping. Tapping. Tapping.
At this point Pac already felt like jumping out of his skin at every touch. He was torn between watching his slow and inevitable destruction or closing his eyes and then be bombarded by his own creative mind about all the different ways that his friend could tickle him right now. How he could simply give up from calmly teasing and prying his puffed squeaks or bitten gasps at any moment and just drum his fingers on his pit, maybe pull a surprise attack to his ribs or even keep the slow spidering until Pac felt so ticklish that a single wiggling finger would make him descend in immediate full belly laughter with minimal effort.
Cellbit’s next words were fast to pull him from his thoughts.
“Where is your worst spot, Pac?”
It was getting old, but once again Pac just shook his head.
“What? You don’t have one? Or you don’t want to tell me where is it?” The hands started swirling, creating spirals that went from the inside to the outside of his armpit. Cellbit watched in true amazement how such a soft touch made the other’s cheeks puff with the amount of squeals he was holding, his arm now trembling in his grip. “You know… I’m feeling like you’re hiding a few secrets from me. Are you, Pac?”
It took every single ounce of will from him, but the scientist pushed every and any giggle deep down so he would not look completely silly when the sentence left out his mouth, not really thinking too much about it.
“Aren’t you our Favela’s detective? Why don’t you find out?”
Cellbit froze, just like Pac’s breath when he realized what he just said.
However, it was too late.
“I am joking! I am joking!” He shouted, watching with a wide stare as the other chuckled in delight at his answer. Low and dangerous. Always ready for a good, fun challenge. “You know how it is! Dumb Pac just being dumb again!”
“You’re not dumb.” Cellbit frowned, but it disappeared as soon as it came, a determined, amused expression taking over his face once again. “That’s fair enough, I think. So, what about we make a deal? I will discover your worst tickle spot and then destroy it with tickles until you give me the code to finish my puzzle.”
The swirling was back once again. Soft, unbearable, light and impossible to ignore.
“Deal?”
“...Deal.”
The detective rolled his shoulders and neck, as if preparing for a battle. “Perfect.”
A quick, small tweak on his armpit ripped a surprised snort from his mouth, which immediately made the scientist’s free hand fly to hide it, not expecting the sudden tickling nor the sound.
“Careful there, bonitinho. Don’t go spilling everything already. I would hate for our game to end so soon.”
His hand went back to spidering, teasing the armpit for a few more seconds before going down to his ribs, scratching and watching as Pac turned his face around, pressing it firmly on his own shoulder, the blush fastly consuming more and more of him.
There was this horrible spot in that space between his back and ribs. Mike found it when they were kids and Pac didn’t know why, but it tickled like hell, so, in the very second that Cellbit’s fingers did as much as faintly graze it, his body immediately rolled away in an attempt to hide it.
Cellbit’s eyes shone and he wormed his hand between the cushions and his torso, legs firmly preventing him from trying to roll even more as curious pokes assaulted the spot, making him arch his back and trash back to the other side, shoulders bouncing with trapped laughter. This didn’t stop the investigator from scribbling closely by the spot, no longer prodding or actually tickling it, just testing his reactions by tracing his nails carefully around and in an X over it. As if he was marking it for future reference.
“One.”
The way that the whisper echoed in Pac’s mind did not resonate with how calmly and low it was said. Before he could think too much about its meaning, however, another question quickly followed it.
“Do you know how many ribs there are in the human body?”
The scientist, a very skilled profissional able to create the wildest substances and built the craziest buildings, actually blamed how giddy and distracted by the tickling he was for his answer.
“Twelve!”
“Pffft!”
The investigator’s surprised wheeze filled the room and suddenly Pac knew that he would never be able to live this down for the next years, Cellbit’s entire face opening in a feral joy as if Pac just gave him an early birthday gift.
“Exactly. That is the correct answer. Twelve.” He replied, clearly trying to not laugh and putting on a serious face, again. He let go of his wrist. “Why don’t we count it together now, so we can confirm how right you are?”
Before Pac could answer, Cellbit pressed his fingers, two in each side, on his highest ribs and tased.
Maybe it was the teasing. Maybe it was how much sensitive his skin felt after so many minutes of light touches and soft tickles or how the sudden series of ticklish shocks ran fastly across his every nerve. Maybe it was the way his entire torso now seemed to be just one giant tickle spot. However, that move made Pac slam his hands to hold on Cellbit’s shoulders so his arms wouldn’t come and pin the attacking, tickly fingers against his body.
That only made Cellbit double his efforts to make him laugh, teases immediately permating Pac’s mind.
“Afraid of trapping my fingers here, bonitinho? Why? You’re not even really trying to stop me. Don’t you want them to keep tickling and tickling and tickling your ribs? Right in that delicious spot right here?” Cellbit pressed, buzzing taking over his senses and filling his lungs with uncontrollable crackles that made his torso shake with the force to contain them, wiggling non stop from one side to another and legs flailing around, all which only seemed to reinforce Cellbit’s determination.
“No way! Is it really that ticklish, Pac? Tell me, is my hunt already over, huh? Did I already find your worst ticklish spot or are you just pretending to stop me from going looking for more? I wonder if all the other spots will be as bad as this one… But that is fine. It only means that we will have to stay here for hours and hours, experimenting and comparing every single one of them until we can finally decide which one is the worst. Unless you decide to tell me. That will make things go so much faster, don’t you think?”
He went to his next rib, giving it the same amount of attention and care as the previous one, scratches pursuing the entirety of the bone, tasing targeting the spaces in between them, quick scribbles concentrating on the places that made his kick his legs harder in a way to expel all the adrenaline racing across his cells, tiny squeals pushing against his lips with fervor.
“Or maybe you’re just that ticklish. A ticklish, little gigglebug. So, so sensitive and yet you still came and walked so wingfully right to my… claws.” The last part came out as an almost whisper, his sentence growing lower and lower to the end.
Pac didn’t mean to, but in that moment Cellbit jumped to his third rib and his barrier broke. Loud, crackling laughter exploding from his mouth in a melody that took over the entire room in the very same second, drowning every other sound and making Cellbit almost lose his concentration, tickling faltering for half moment as he was hit with… everything.
With how big Pac’s smile was and how his blush seemed to climb over his neck and ears to pool on his face, how he threw his head backwards when he laughed and the fact that he was actually right because the scientist was too concentrated on the tickle attack and on keeping his hands locked on his shoulder that, for once, he didn’t even try to cover his face.
Cellbit felt himself in a kind of a daze as he kept tickling his loud-friend-prey-fun-fun-fun! Each spot receiving all the scribbling and buzzing before he jumped to another, watching as Pac grew crazier and crazier with each second.
His laughter didn’t necessarily get louder, but it took a turn from the wheezy, high pitched, hysterical crackles on the highest ribs to a much more uncontrollable giggling the lower he went.
Pac squirmed and arched his back, a move that only managed to give Cellbit much more places to work with. He successfully got a few snorts and squeals when that happened and he took the opportunity to worm his hands under his black shirt and spider them on his lower back, making the scientist slam his back again on the couch and bring the tickling back to his ribs, which would then make him kick and wiggle again until another chance to attack his back would appear and Cellbit would gladly take it.
And he. kept. his hands. on his shoulders.
It took everything from him, Pac was sure, but he kept his grip firm, his mind being totally taken over by how much it tickled and everything else all at once. The dance and wiggling happening across his torso, the smug smirk on Cellbit’s face, the awe that took over his brown eyes when he began laughing, the prickle of heat on his warm cheeks and even the light touch of his own hair on his neck that kept sending silly, funny tingles through his nerves to his soul, leading the giggles to get giddier and his snickers to become more present in his laughter.
When the detective got to his lower ribs, light pinching and then drumming his fingers there, between the unintelligible words that fell like waterfall from his lips Pac was able to push a single giggly plea amidst his senseless protests.
“Cellbit!”
The other immediately froze. Pac took the opportunity to take big gulps of air, trying and failing in not succumbing into more laughing fits during the process.
At the second time that the scientist tried for the second to recompose himself and fell into more giggling Cellbit’s fingers twitched, wanting to make that sound ring once more across the room. Still, he didn’t go back to tickling him, aware that his friend indeed was a common human who needed plenty of oxygen to survive.
He blinked and realized that his own grin was almost as big as his prey- Pac. As Pac’s grin was.
(He didn’t run away. He didn’t stop him. He didn’t fight back. Or shouted. Or hated him. He just laughed and laughed and laughed and Cellbit was the main reason for that. For that smile. Those excited eyes watching him right now. The joy. Even if it was a bit artificial, he was the one who did it.)
(He wasn’t quite sure what he would be able to do just to listen to his name being laughed out loud as this again.)
(He was… happy.)
Pac startled when another sound followed the last of his dying giggles. It was a low, almost inaudible, rumbling purr which, if it wasn’t the light feeling of trembling on Cellbit’s shoulders, he would never ever realize that it was coming from his friend.
Before his brain could properly process this and then conjure a proper comment that could or not be a poke of fun - discreet enough that it wouldn’t be clear if he actually was talking about Cellbit’s feline traits or something else, - the detective voice cut the silence.
“Puts, would you look at that.” The feeling of the fingers crawling right back the top of his ribcage made him chortle and squirm, the tip of his fingers barely scraping his armpits. “I lost the count. Seems like we will have to start all over again, Pac. I need to keep up my part of the deal, afterall.”
“Espera!” (Wait!)
“One, two, three…”
He didn’t even try to stop his laughter this time, letting it fall from his lips freely. By the moment the counting ended he was already hysterically giggling just with the feeling of the other’s hands resting on his sides without moving, thumbs rubbing firm circles on his skin in a comforting manner that both made him want to melt and also kept a couple of stray snickers filling the air with the phantom tickles as he once again calmed down.
Pac stared at Cellbit’s brown eyes. There was something different there. Like, literally. But he couldn’t exactly purpoint what.
“Two.”
Another whisper.
Pac tensed, expecting another round of ‘counting your ribs’, although this time in an anatomically correct friendly version (how they got to the result that twelve was the actual correct answer a few seconds ago was a complete mystery to him since he was clearly very occupied dying in crackles) but the thumbs continued with their soft ministrations until he was back to melting, a low huff of laughter (and purring, however it seems like they’re both pretending to ignore that) leaving Cellbit’s mouth.
His fingertips began scribbling on the spot, fingers sometimes slipping under his shirt to scratch at the dip of his hips or on his trembling belly, making sharp intakes of breath to take over him as the scientist let go of the other’s shoulders to muffle his reactions, covering his face entirely.
“Just laugh already, Pac. We both know you want to.”
Cellbit began poking his sides, realizing that there was a lovely weak spot extremely close to his back that made Pac yelp and jump when he passed through it. So he took his sweet time to explore it, watching as a single poke on his right would make him trash to the left, where clawing fingers would be ready to excitedly squeeze his unprotected side over and over and over again until Pac eventually was able to squirm out of it and come right back to the soft, unbearable tickling of his other hand. His reactions dropped from kicking to shaking his head in protest as he kept holding all his titters and laughter inside, each second getting closer to break.
It was fine, though, Cellbit could wait.
Even so, he squinted his eyes at the other’s covered face, being prived from watching the moments when his mouth would become a straight line as he discovered a new tickly spot or how his eyes would instinctively close when his laughter grew stronger or how his smile increased when Cellbit would unexpectedly changed techniques, analyzing which one brought better results. The detective huffed in annoyment - Roier would call it pouting, but he wasn’t here so he was wrong - and added some more tweaks on Pac’s sides in protest, sulking way less when more and more muffled squeaks began appearing with each second.
He didn’t want to exactly pry Pac’s hands from where they were, especially because he would have to stop his attack for that and there just would be no fun in that. His prey-friend-family-joy was so, so close to laughing it out.
Although…
Having his eyes covered could prove to be a good opportunity for a surprise.
Cellbit began lowering his head, getting closer to the other’s extremely red ear, being careful to not let his beard tickle his neck - not yet, at least - to not alarm Pac of his plan. He made sure his voice had the lowest and roughest tune that he could make, letting his breath hit the skin freely.
“There is no reason for you to hold back your reactions like this from me, gigglebug. Besides, I mean, I thought we both felt the same about prisons and keeping stuff trapped, don’t we?”
Pac, honest to god, shrieked when he not only heard but actually felt how close Cellbit was, scrunching his neck in an attempt to make the buzzing tingles disappear, unsuccessfully.
“Well, then I guess I have no other option if you’re just going to try to keep all your snorts and hysterical snickers stuck inside when they should be free to rummage around. What is that phrase you and Mike are always saying, again?”
Pac finally gave up from trying to stop the other from talking so close to his ear and let go of his face to push him away, shiny eyes opening to stare at the huge, smug smirk on the detective’s face.
He didn’t know exactly why until a movement caught his gaze.
Cellbit’s hand was hovering right above him, slowly clawing as it lowered in the direction of his quivering belly. Senseless protests and pleas began stumbling in flocks from him, the scientist attempting with all his might to suck in his stomach so he wouldn’t immediately and ultimately die and still hold his giggles as much as he could.
“Wait, I remember, now!” The hand dug on his belly. “There is no impossible escape.”
Screeching laughter filled the entire space and seemed to only fuel’s the tickling more, Cellbit’s other hand joining the fun to drum on every single patch of skin available, scratching and poking fingers immediately unlocking all loud snorts and chortles as they unmercifully prodded and wiggled inside his bellybutton, adding even more to his laughter.
“There we are, bonitinho!” Cellbit’s happy shout probably held far too much pride for someone who managed to win such a childish challenge. But he didn’t care, immediately drinking the other’s reactions and comparing how different was Pac’s laughter when he tickled his belly - lower, less hysterical but seemingly stronger - from when he decided to shove his hands on his armpits and dig - higher, fast and wheezy. How his fast kicking became a dance of squirming when he went from his ribcage to his sides and how much relaxed the grip on his shoulders became - even if his face got much redder - when he went right back at attacking his neck and elbows with light scribbles. Or even how he instinctively descended into a silent laughter, full of hiccups and squeaks, everytime Cellbit targeted one of the sweet spots he mapped on his torso.
“Which one tickles more, Pac? When I attack your absurdly ticklish armpits” To help him to choose, Cellbit decided to demonstrate his question and scribble said spot, making Pac’s arms immediately slam down and a snickering fit to take place. “Or your very sensitive belly?” His adjectives were promptly proven true when he began clawing his stomach, inspiring more melodious laughter to appear.
“I don’t know! I don’t know!”
The other chuckled.
“You don’t know? Well, I’m sure you will be able to figure it out, eventually.” He lowered his head again, no longer stopping his beard from tickling the poor unprotected neck. A squeal was ripped from Pac’s throat and another attempt to hide his ear by squeezing it on his own shoulder was made. It only made the detective change from side to side, though, having way too much fun to be so easily dissuaded. “Don’t worry about it, though, we can stay here for as long as you want. For hours and hours, if needed, testing every spot, every technique, every tease until you can finally decide.”
Pac shook his head and let out some more senseless pleas in protest, too lost in his own laughter to even begin to properly respond. He rolled to his side, forcing Cellbit to go back to an upwards position, not without purposely rubbing his beard behind his ears and neck, and for a moment his lips parted, preparing to-
(No.)
With all the squirming his loose shirt moved enough to show some skin and Cellbit didn’t really think too much before skittering his fingers on the patch of his back again.
Pac yelped and slammed back on the cushions, quickly turning around and holding, a childlike, high pitched giggling flying freely from his lips.
Cellbit immediately froze.
(He didn’t try to stop him until now.)
“Wait, wait, Cellbit!”
The sentence was left incomplete as Pac snickered, bringing his hands (him) closer to his chest, still giggling even if the tickling had already stopped, eyes closed and smile going from one ear to another.
He looked relaxed. Content.
Cellbit furrowed his eyebrows. He already discovered the answer for his part of the deal. Pac’s worst spot was clear as any white shirt washed with a good dose of peroxide after a hard day, but there had been little funny details in his friend’s actions that pointed directly to one direction. That last reaction being his main hint.
Oh.
Cellbit gets it, now.
“Your worst spot isn’t your favorite one, right? That’s your back.”
Wide, expectant and excited, black eyes found his and something clicked just right in Cellbit’s brain. A predatory grin suppressed his previous thoughtful expression.
Pac didn’t deny it.
They were still in the game.
Pac was just so fun.
“Pac, Pac, Pac…” He tsks. “So you were actually hiding stuff from me.”
Easily freeing his hands from the loose grip, Cellbit observed as the scientist automatically began losing himself in sniggers, not even batting an eye when uncoordinated hands tried to grab his wrists again. He had an idea.
Pac yelped when two strong arms came and hugged him, all his protests coming to a halt with the sudden mix of soft embrace and firm restrain, leaving him frozen in confusion. The cushion at his side dipped as Cellbit put his weight on it and even if Pac’s brain began running a mile per hour he couldn’t get what his plan was here.
With a swift turn Cellbit lifted him from the sofa and rolled, his moves fast and precise - even if still a little clumsy, by the way that the detective let out a ‘oof’ sound when they fell back on the cushions and he hit the furniture, - successfully exchanging his position with Pac and, which is even more remarkable as the fingers that lightly pressed on the lovely space between his shoulderblades reminded him: leaving his entire back unprotected and open for any kind of silly, tickly attack.
“Gotcha, gigglebug.”
One hand began quickly scratching his neck as the other one skittered across his spine, wiggling on every bone until it reached his lower back, pinches, scribbles and scratches joyfully attacking the sensitive spot, exploring every part of it and immediately making his giggling grow up to a notch.
Pac shoved his face on the other’s neck, shoulders bouncing with each laughter as tiny sparks of electricity seemed to follow every one of Cellbit’s touches as they tickled and teased every and any available spot of his back, successfully trapping him in a mix of childlike, high pitched laughter and wheezy chuckles. It was a little maddening how all his muscles seemed to relax with the soft tickles as his fingertips lightly ran across his back only to instantly jump with jolts and surprised squeaks as a sudden poke or tazing was delivered right on the back of his ribs or on in between shoulderblades, increasing his laughter and pulling more and more snorts for a few seconds, just when the comforting touch would to come and take over again.
It was the most amazing, unbearable, awful, joyful trap he could imagine. Being locked on Cellbit’s firm yet gentle embrace, adrenaline running hot on his veins as the feeling of safe but in danger made all the sirens in his mind scream and a warm feeling of trust to pool into his soul. The way that he was unable to actively defend his favorite spot - how did Cellbit even discover it so quickly? - without giving his friend free access to more other places he could attck, but also knowing that just holding his hands would immediately stop him made Pac let himself go and giggle and snicker hysterically non stop.
Not to mention the literal feeling of the motor-like purr that was still present and also seemed to tickle him, his skin still feeling way too ticklish for all that buzzing. Especially since it seemed to only grow stronger every time that a special prodding on the base of his or a spidering on his upper back made him hug the detective closer.
Besides, Pac didn’t quite realize it, but with every hug he pressed his face more and more on Cellbit’s neck, his huffs and puffs of laughter resulting in shivers and wobbly smiles to escape from the detective as well.
They kept up that song and dance for a few more minutes until Cellbit got content after fishing all the wheezes, snorts, squeals and laughter he had stored, settling to massaging the nape of his neck as he calmed down. Still delivering one or two soft scribbles on the back of his ears from time to time to prevent him from falling asleep on top of him. Cellbit is still a very happily married man, afterall.
“Still alive there, dude?”
No answer. Cellbit began blinking quickly, suddenly realizing that the room seemed much more illuminated and detailed than when he first walked in, his mind instantly going back to focus on the enigma he was after now that the chase-hunt-play was over.
I mean, their deal.
(Where did that come from?)
“What is the code?”
Silence.
“Pac?”
Said one lifted himself from the hug, a giant smile on his face and a few unshed tears glistering in the corner of his eyes.
He suddenly wheezed when their eyes found each other, not expecting at all to see the full blown wide cat pupils staring right back at him.
The confused expression on Cellbit’s face only grew bigger as he continued to blink non stop, probably bothered by the light.
“Pfffff, me dá uns minutinhos aí, moço. A cat just got my tongue.” (Give me a few more minutes, bro.)
And then he immediately jumped away from the couch before the meaning of his words could fully sink in the other’s brain. He felt way too giddy after all the fun and playful tickles, with wobbly steps and gleeful chuckles twirling in the air.
“Pactw…” The underlying warning in his tone - together with a hunt-warn-catch thrill and, oh. my. god. Pac needed to tell this to the others like right now - made Pac yelp and hold his hands in rendition, lowering himself in what could be a preparation to run away or an attempt to look smaller.
“40028922!”
Cellbit kept staring at him, squinted eyes analyzing his every move and expression as usual. Sometimes Pac wondered what he found when he did this.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not! That is really the code and by the way I don’t have anything to do with it! They just told me to keep it.” As the other continued to look at him in disbelief, he started doing the orange justice dance, singing. “40028922 é o funk do Yudi que vai dar Playstation 2.” (40028922, it’s Yudi’s funk that will give you a Playstation 2)
Eventually, the detective got up from the couch and walked to the door, putting the numbers and watching it with one trembling eyebrow as the door opened effortlessly. He pinched his nose bridge with a groan and an amused huff. Knowing his luck, Cellbit should’ve expected something like that.
However, he quickly straightened his posture, combing his hair with his fingers and adjusting his coat. That was it. The last piece of the puzzle. The final level. He had no more time for playing around.
“Ok. Thank you very much for your cooperation and… trust, Pac. I appreciate it a lot. We make a good team when we work together.” He hesitated before stepping forward and didn’t quite look back, but Pac could feel those piercing brown eyes on him. “I know we were just joking but…You’re a good ally. You and Mike both. Hope we can keep fighting side by side in the future.”
“Y-yeah, of course! The Favela sticks together forever, right?”
“...Yes. We’re family. That is what we do.” Cellbit nodded and Pac mirrored him, even if the other was already getting inside the other room.
That was cool.
Dramatic.
But cool.
Pac was in the middle of sending Roier a message saying that Cellbit was heading in his direction when a thought went right through his brain, making him freeze.
“Wait.” He said out loud, looking behind to face the robot green rats that always followed him and Mike around. “Mike told him that this was like Roier’s idea and not some enigma left by the Federation, yeah?”
He began biting his nails, thinking about all the steps and parties involved in this surprise that Roier wanted to give to his husband as a gift. He wasn’t the only one invited to participate in it. Mike, Bagi, Philza, Baghera, Badboyhalo… “I mean, someone must have warned him, right?”
The rat shrugged.
Pac snorted, hand flying to his mouth before his wheezes could catch his friend’s attention and make him come back, quickly getting out of the place before Cellbit realized what he was really walking into.
(In the distance, he was almost sure that he heard a surprised shout followed by one laughter that, at this point, he already knew very well. But sometimes a good gossiper needs to know when to die for a fofoca and when to run away with half of it.)
(He needed to go tell everything to Fit first, afterall.)
[~*~]
Fun facts!
The first part with Pac and Mike is inspirated in that bit they have going on where Pac mimics Mike's accent and in turn Mike makes it thicker and talks faster and they just keep it going on! They also use it when they want to do something illegal (like escape from the prision on the latest event) so the translator won't catch exactly what they're saying
40028922 is a very known number in Brazil because it was a phone number used to participate in a kid TV Show and one of the hosts had this jingle where he would sing song it and say that you would get a Playstation 2. It's so known that using it as a secret code it's a bit like... rick rolling the person.
It's not made very clear but this is kind of inspired by @squeaky-n-blushy 's tags on my guapoduo tickle hc and Cellbit is actually walking directly to the end of a puzzle made by Roier as a gift where his prize are tickles :D Yay!!
#Cellbit: I am the master of the teases and antecipation I am ruthless I have no mercy I am unstoppable#Pac: a// Cellbit: Friend is uncomfortable? Friend want me to stop?? Friend is sad??? *sad wet cat noises*#I tried to make this a bit out of my comfort zone! :D With plenty of teases and antecipation and took a while to write but I am very happy!#You can see this as romantic but honestly I think they have something much weirder going on#qsmp tickles#qsmp tickling#Ticklish!Pac#Ler!Cellbit#I regret nothing#I wanted to make the dialogue in portuguese on the tickle part too but I would've died fr fr#Sarcastic and acid Pac lives rent free in my mind I mean did you see the prank he and Mike did to Foolish to get him back about the prison?#Crazy stuff for real for real xD#Kanene's fanfic#Kanene's fic
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