calmlypanicking

[calmlypanicking]

Another attack! @flames-tstuff , I knew I had to draw this as soon as I saw that your template had a character from the same fandom as mine, lol

[calmlypanicking]

Oh geez

petition to call a lee's favorite spot their "happy spot"

[calmlypanicking]

i just need to be smothered in kisses and ever-so-gently tkled until my brain is mush. yeah I need that on my desk by tomorrow, the company will die without it. yeah.

[calmlypanicking]

Glittery Nails

word count: 4,033

this is a tickle fic!

pairing: Logan and Virgil, romantic

Warnings: this fic is not sexual at all, but it is quite romantic and sensual at times. so if that's not your cup of tea, feel free to skip! there's also foot tkls, bondage, some swearing, and it gets pretty intense at one point! like, crying from laughter. so, keeping that in mind:

please enjoy! :]

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Virgil had just recently gotten his nails done. They were a shimmery, iridescent purple and blue, the pointer and ring fingers both adorned in white specks which gave the illusion of stars. They looked like galaxies. Logan was having a hard time looking at anything else when they were within the limits of his vision. Granted, it was normal for Logan to become fixated on Virgil’s hands, for obvious reasons. But now that Virgil’s nails were done up, it was practically impossible for Logan to focus on anything but the way they glimmered in the light.

Virgil and Logan were sitting on the couch together in the living room, quietly coexisting. Logan was (attempting) to get work done on his laptop. Virgil was scrolling through something on his phone; likely tumblr, if Logan was to hazard a guess. Logan forced his attention back to his screen. There was a very important spreadsheet to be worked on, and no one else in the Mindscape was going to sort Thomas’s videos from least to most successful whilst comparing and contrasting what could have caused the differences.

Logan’s gaze was once again stolen towards Virgil’s nails, as Virgil lifted a hand to absentmindedly run it through his purple-tipped bangs. The light from the lamp near him caught on the nails as they went up, making them glow gold for a fraction of a second before the reflection was gone, and Logan was just watching as Virgil messed with his hair. Virgil looked up from his phone, and Logan felt himself flush slightly as they made eye contact. Virgil simply smirked, wiggled his fingers at Logan in a cheeky greeting, and looked back to his phone.

Fuck. Logan snapped his gaze back to his laptop once more. He had given up on focusing on his work, though. He was almost certainly red, he could feel the heat in his face. Such a simple action should not have flustered him that much. The reasonings and nuance behind emotions still evaded him, but if Logan knew one thing for sure, it was that he was incredibly gay and in love with his boyfriend and SO annoyingly easy to fluster. Had Virgil even done that on purpose? He had to have, right?

Logan’s internal question didn’t go unanswered. A moment after he thought it, Virgil said, “I can tell you’ve been staring, Lo. They are really pretty, aren’t they?” Logan looked up to see Virgil exaggeratedly examining his nails, a mischievous smile on his face. “Don’t you want a closer look?” Virgil held his hand out, which Logan hesitantly took. He wasn’t sure what exactly Virgil was getting at, but it was clearly not just innocently showing Logan his nails if the grin he still wore was anything to guess from.

As soon as Logan took hold of Virgil’s hand, Virgil quickly grabbed his wrist. Logan let out a slight “Oh!” as Virgil dragged him up off the couch and towards his room.

”Wait, my laptop-” Logan began, but Virgil shushed him, holding one finger over his mouth as he closed the bedroom door behind them. Logan blinked twice as his vision adjusted to the much dimmer room. The main lights were off, with only fairy lights on the ceiling glowing to light the space.

”You can go get it later, it’s fine, you know none of the others will care.” Logan couldn’t find it within himself to argue. His brain instead chose to focus on the lingering sensation from when Virgil’s finger was on his lips.

“So, do you want to talk about how you’ve been doing nothing but staring at my hands all day?” Virgil asked, wiggling his fingers in front of Logan’s face again, as if to emphasize the point. “I just can’t imagine why that could *possibly* be~.” Logan desperately avoided making eye contact, looking away and resisting the urge to cover his face with his hands.

“Your nails are simply… eye-catching, right now,” Logan stated simply, ignoring the way Virgil’s smile grew wider in his peripheral vision. “They’re quite pretty.”

”Awe, thank you, Lo,” Virgil shifted his hand so that the nails once again caught the dim lights of the room- a soft pink color reflecting on purple and blue nails, the colors swirling together in a way that was nearly mesmerizing. “Are you sure that’s the *only* reason you’ve been staring, though?” That was clearly not the only reason. And Logan knew that Virgil knew that damn well, judging by the frankly evil-looking grin on his face.

Any response Logan might have had died in his throat as he was pushed up against the door and felt a hand creeping up his side, under his shirt. Logan startled slightly at the initial contact, and quickly had to fight to keep his composure. Virgil was slowly, teasingly, running the tips of his fingers up and down Logan’s side. Starting low, near his hip, ever-so-lightly tracing up towards his ribs, stopping just shy of his underarms before making his way back down.

”Well?” Virgil prompted, and Logan was only able to barely hold back a whimper- as mortifying as that was- as Virgil curled his fingers, resting with his hand poised to strike against Logan’s stomach.

”Uh-” Logan’s attempt at a response was quickly cut off when Virgil shifted his hand slightly, the tiniest change in sensation rendering Logan’s mind completely blank. “Well-” Virgil shifted his hand again, and Logan threw his head back against the door, pressing his eyes and lips shut in any attempt to keep silent. The anticipatory giggles were already threatening to come out, and Logan could feel them building in his throat.

Logan gasped as he felt fingers on his neck, his eyes shooting open in shock. He risked a glance towards Virgil, and immediately closed his eyes again at the sight of Virgil’s positively shit-eating grin. A single glance at Virgil’s expression had shot butterflies straight through Logan’s stomach, adding to what was already there from the anticipation.

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about all day?” Virgil murmured into Logan’s ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He could feel the warmth of Virgil’s breath against his skin. Virgil’s nails traced over Logan’s neck, leaving a trail of tingles in their wake. “My pretty, pretty new nails dancing over your skin?” A strangled noise left Logan’s throat as Virgil’s nails dug briefly into his side, and he jolted nearly an inch in the opposite direction. Virgil chuckled lowly at his reaction, sending another shot of butterflies through Logan’s stomach. Virgil lifted his hands off of him, and Logan waited for a moment before slowly opening his eyes. Virgil was staring at him, still grinning, clearly enjoying this a bit too much.

Realizing that Virgil expected a response, Logan cleared his suddenly-mysteriously-dry throat. “…Yes,” he finally worked up the courage to say. Virgil rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Very good,” Virgil praised, kissing Logan’s ear this time, sending another shiver down his spine. “Bed, now.” It took Logan a moment to process the command; his brain was slightly short-circuited. Virgil seemed to have that effect on him. As soon as he realized what Virgil had said, Logan flushed again, but dutifully went and sat on Virgil’s bed.

”Down,” Virgil said, and Logan laid down against the pillows. Virgil sat lightly next to him, resting a hand on Logan’s chest. His nails sparkled, the glitter glowing pink. “Do you want the rope?” Logan simply nodded after a moment, not trusting his voice in the slightest. It would definitely crack if he tried to speak. Virgil went over to the closet, digging around for a second and pulling out a soft bondage rope that Logan was quite, ahem, familiar with. Memories of the last time Virgil tied him up flashed through his brain, bringing a wobbly smile to his face just from the phantom sensations that thinking about it brought through his most ticklish areas.

“Shirt on or off?” Virgil asked. Logan swallowed, attempting to wet his throat before responding.

”Off,” he responded, and so off his shirt came.

They fiddled with the rope for a minute before Logan was sturdily affixed to the bed, his wrists being bound to the bedposts. Virgil ran a finger down Logan’s leg, resting his hand on Logan’s socked foot and looking at him questioningly.

“What about here?” A thrill ran through Logan’s body at the thought of his feet being bound as well. His feet were, by far, his worst spot- which Virgil knew. They were hardly even targeted, seeing as how they almost immediately drove Logan to hysterics once touched. His feet were reserved for only the most intense sessions, where Logan was feeling only the worst of lee moods. Which, this one was living up to. Logan had been staring at Virgil’s nails all day, after all, and he’d had hours to dream up endless scenarios involving any and all ways those nails could be on his skin.

Logan nodded, and felt the swooping in his stomach only grow as he was slowly immobilized. With every wrap of the rope around his ankles, Virgil would occasionally brush against Logan’s bare skin where his pants had slightly ridden up. Every tiny touch fueled the fire building in Logan’s face, as well. Virgil tied a little bow on the knot holding Logan’s ankles together. He gave it a little pat, then looked up at Logan. He scooted closer to Logan’s face, away from his feet for now.

”You ready~?” Virgil teased, wiggling his nails at Logan once more, clearly relishing the way this caused Logan’s blush to flare up even more. Logan cleared his throat.

”Yes,” he affirmed, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Virgil tracing over the skin on the side of his neck.

”Traffic lights, yeah?” Virgil confirmed, and Logan nodded, peeking up at him with one eye.

“I’m green,” was all Logan said. Virgil merely grinned, which was all the warning Logan got before there were suddenly nails spidering across his sides. His breath caught in his throat as he gasped, sputtering out a surprised laugh before throwing his head against the pillow and falling into steady giggles. His instinct was to reach and try to stop the wandering fingers from tickling, but he was of course stopped by the rope holding up his hands. This did not stop him from desperately pulling against the rope and trying to squirm away as Virgil’s hands crawled up towards his armpits.

Though it would be virtually impossible to admit out loud, Logan relished the feeling of helplessness from trying (and failing) to struggle against the bondage. And Virgil, evil Virgil, knew this fact very well. Logan let out an embarrassing squeak as Virgil’s hands finally reached his exposed underarms, and he hid his flushed face in one of his arms as Virgil spoke.

”Awe, is it really bad there, Lo? Why don’t you try to get away?” Virgil asked with faux-innocence, continuing to poke and scribble in Logan’s armpits as he squirmed and laughed beneath him.

”I’m- I *am-* *ffuhuck-*” Logan managed to gasp between giggles, cursing as Virgil hit the sweet spot right in the center of his right armpit. It was *so bad* in that one little spot, it was so unfair- Logan gasped again, inhaling as much air as he could in his moment of shock before falling back into crazed giggles. Virgil had moved his hands down to Logan’s ribs, focusing on one specific spot right above his stomach.

”Are you swearing at me?” Virgil asked, the smile evident in his voice even as he tried to act offended. “One more stunt like that, and you’ll regret it.” It was like a lightning-strike of butterflies shot straight through Logan’s stomach. He whined through his giggles, which clearly only egged Virgil on. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You better be careful, dude,” he warned teasingly, bringing his nails down to slowly circle Logan’s stomach. This gave Logan an opportunity to catch his breath, the slight sensation enough to keep him on edge, but not so much that he needed to laugh.

This moment of respite gave Logan the opportunity to glance back to Virgil’s hands. The sparkly reflection of the pink fairy lights moved with Virgil’s hands, catching the most when his hands were closest to Logan’s right side. Virgil’s tracing became much more performative as soon as he realized Logan was watching- using only one finger to dramatically swirl around Logan’s bellybutton a few times, then settling both hands back on Logan’s stomach in a clawed shape. Logan looked away again, trying to hide in his arm.

”No no, look back at me,” Virgil said softly, gently taking Logan’s jaw and moving it so he was looking forward at Virgil’s hands once more. “Didn’t you love watching them all day?” he asked, wiggling them to punctuate his sentence. Logan let out another small whine, looking away again out of embarrassment before quickly forcing his gaze back to Virgil’s nails.

”Very, very good,” Virgil murmured, beginning to scribble lightly over Logan’s stomach. Logan felt his muscles twitch as the sensation coursed through him. Lighter tickles always seemed to affect him so much more; and now, he was looking right at what was causing his ticklish demise. It was like little shots of lightning were coming from Virgil's nails. The glimmer of the polish almost acted as a tease by itself, where Logan swore it felt more ticklish in the moments they flashed, reflecting the pink lights.

“Try to be as quiet as possible, okay?” Virgil said, leaning forward to kiss Logan’s neck. Logan let out a small gasp and tilted his head back, allowing Virgil to leave tingly kisses as he ever-so-lightly scritched over Logan’s stomach and sides. This meant he couldn’t watch Virgil’s fingers anymore, but Logan was perfectly okay with that. He giggled breathlessly, trying his best to be quiet, which meant he was basically whisper-laughing.

He arched his back as Virgil wiggled his fingers under his torso onto his back, which only gave Virgil better access to the sensitive area. The silent giggles continued, cutting off into a sharp, strangled breath as Virgil’s hands were suddenly back in Logan’s armpits, ceasing their movement. Logan held his breath, shutting his eyes tight and waiting for Virgil to start up again. When nothing happened for a few moments, Logan peeked up to see Virgil looking down at him with a smile that could only be described as dopey and loving.

Virgil leaned down and kissed him. Logan felt his heart flutter, his eyes sliding back shut as he melted into the kiss. Then, Virgil’s fingers started again in Logan’s underarms, sending a jolt through his body. Logan’s eyes shot open again in surprise, and he was giggling into Virgil’s lips. Virgil wouldn’t let up the kiss, and also kept unrelentingly spidering his nails over the worst part of Logan’s armpits. Something about this combination sent hordes of butterflies through Logan’s stomach, and he was certainly as red as a tomato with how fiercely he was blushing.

Virgil finally pulled back from the kiss, grinning triumphantly down at Logan as he hysterically giggled.

”How about that, huh? Was that really that good?” Virgil asked, bringing one hand back down to prod at Logan’s ribs while the other continued scribbling in his armpit. Logan shook his head, not wanting to admit just how badly that had flustered him.

”Aww, really?” Virgil pretended to pout, bringing his hands up to Logan’s head. He fluttered his nails ever-so-gently at the back of Logan’s ears, which made Logan jolt and squeak. His ears were so bad, they were *so bad,* especially when Virgil kept his touch so unbearably light.

”Noooonononono- shhhihiit, shit-” Logan gasped, trying his best to keep his head still. But then Virgil stopped, and Logan's head reeled, feeling slightly surprised at the immediate loss of sensation as Virgil drew his hands away. Then Logan remembered Virgil’s threat about swearing from earlier, and felt a slight swoop of fear settle in his stomach. This fear was mixed, however, with extremely excited anticipation for what Virgil would do.

Virgil tsked, the sound sending another swoop through Logan's stomach. “Now, what did I say about swearing at me?” Virgil arched his brow, trying to look serious even through the smile still on his face.

“I- apologize, it was simply, um, simply an automatic response-” Logan began, unable to keep his voice steady as Virgil scooted back down the bed towards his feet. Virgil looked up at him and listened with innocent eyes, as if he wasn't doing anything. “I- I didn't mean-” Logan’s half-hearted pleading was cut off with a strangled gasp as Virgil swiped his finger up the arch of Logan’s left foot. His entire body jerked, instinctually trying to escape.

“You didn't mean what, Lo?” Virgil asked, innocent expression still on his face as he rested his hands at the top of Logan's socks, nails glimmering as his fingers shifted. Virgil knew for a fact that Logan couldn't respond under these conditions, he was far too flustered. His grin only grew every time Logan tried to respond but was cut off by his slight movements. Every shift of shimmery nails, so close to Logan's most sensitive spot, was an imminent reminder that Virgil was about to tickle him. It was going to be so bad, it was going to be *so bad,* Virgil was about to tickle him, *oh my god-*

Logan's train of thought was cut off as Virgil swiped over his feet again, and he desperately jerked against the restraints on his ankles. Then, Virgil started lightly skittering his nails over the sides of his socked feet. Logan let out a small shriek before closing his eyes and falling into desperate giggles. Holy shit, oh my *god*, his feet were so bad, and Virgil wasn’t even anywhere close to his worst spot yet. The urge was stronger than ever for Logan to hide his face in his hands, with the sheer flustering nature of the situation; yet there was something delicious in the way that his hands tugged fruitlessly against the rope, his wrists staying firmly attached to the bedposts.

The sensation was gone almost as soon as it had arrived, and Logan welcomed the respite… until he felt tugging on his socks. He hid his face in his arm, whining and giggling with anticipation as he felt the thin layer of protection slowly pull away. The air felt cold on his feet.

”Are you ready, Logan?” Virgil asked, and Logan felt a single finger rest on each of his feet, causing him to startle again. He simply whined again in response, trying his hardest not to move even a millimeter. Logan knew the moment he shifted at all, the tingles already building in his feet just from Virgil’s stationary fingers would explode and it would be all over for him.

But Virgil had different ideas, and twitched his fingers against Logan’s arches. His feet jolted involuntarily, and Virgil dug in. Logan gasped and bust out laughing, trying his best to squirm away within his constraints. His arms and legs shook with the effort of pulling against the restraints, but it was to no avail. Logan was well and truly trapped, forced to sit and take everything Virgil put him through. It was awful, and it was *amazing.*

Virgil spidered his nails all over Logan’s feet, moving in an up and down motion. Crawling up, up, and stopping just shy of his toes, then crawling his way back down. Virgil took an extra moment to scritch at the sides of Logan’s feet and the bottom of his heel before resuming his spidering up Logan’s arches.

”Oh, you poor, poor thing,” Logan heard Virgil say, as tears started to build in the corners of his eyes from how hard he was laughing. Every few moments he would draw a strangled gasp of air before falling right back into manic laughter. Logan’s mind was completely blank. He couldn’t think of anything other than the feeling of ticklish lightning shooting through his legs and circulating through his whole body, before it was expelled back into the air through his laughter.

The tears began to stream down Logan’s face, and he heard Virgil make a soft noise of pity. “You’re alright, baby, you’re doing so well,” Virgil said, pausing to check up on him. Logan could still feel the buzzing lingering in his feet as his giggles slowed down and he caught his breath. Virgil carded his hands through Logans hair, peppering soft kisses all over his face. “You’re doing so good, honey.”

Virgil rested his hand on Logan’s cheek, and Logan leaned into it, sighing deeply and slowly exhaling. It felt like he was glowing, in pure bliss. Virgil offered him water, and Logan accepted, drinking in the cool liquid through a straw.

”How are we feeling, Lo?” Virgil asked, putting the water back on a bedside table. Logan thought about it, and flushed slightly.

”Maybe… a little more? More soft, again,” Logan asked shyly, averting his gaze as Virgil slowly blinked.

”Still not satisfied, huh? I literally just tickled you to tears. And you’re asking for more?” Virgil smiled as Logan gave a single nod of his head, blush blazing on his face. Virgil leaned down and kissed Logan again, softly, gently. Then he pulled away just enough to be able to murmur into Logan’s lips, “Who am I to deny my beautiful boyfriend what he wants?”

This was all the warning Logan got as Virgil captured his lips once more and then started tracing his fingers all over Logan’s upper body. It wasn’t enough to make him laugh, but certainly was enough to fluster the hell out of him. He had no idea where Virgil had gotten this whole tickling-while-kissing idea, but he simultaneously wanted to dropkick and thank whoever had given it to him.

Logan loved kissing Virgil, so that part was great. The added sensation of nails slowly exploring his sides, and stomach, and back, and ribs… coming to rest and just slightly twitch in his underarms, before backtracking on their journey… it was unreal, honestly. He could feel Virgil smile against his lips every time he hit a particularly sensitive spot that caused Logan to jump.

Soft giggles built in Logan’s throat again, and he didn’t bother trying to hold them back this time. He simply giggled his little heart out as Virgil moved to kissing his neck, still tracing over his route with his glimmery nails. Virgil found a particularly sensitive spot on Logan’s neck, and Logan gasped slightly as he scraped the spot gently with his teeth.

Logan suddenly had the urge to hold Virgil close, to squeeze him tightly into his chest and never let go. It felt like his heart was going to burst with the sheer amount of love coursing through him. Suddenly, the restraints weren’t stopping him from getting away, they were preventing him from getting closer.

”Mm- ye- yellow-” Logan stuttered out, and Virgil immediately stopped and looked up, checking him over.

”What’s up? What do you need?” Virgil asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

”Everything is perfectly fine, Virgil, no need to worry,” Logan reassured, “Can you let me out, please? I’d just like to hold you, is all.” Virgil visibly relaxed.

”Of course, honey, just give me a second.” Within a few minutes, Logan was freed from the ropes. Virgil made a soft noise when he saw how red Logan’s wrists and ankles were, pressing a gentle kiss onto each one. Logan sat up and drank a bit more water. Then he laid back down and opened his arms, pulling Virgil on top of him and hugging tightly. He let his face drop down onto Virgil’s shoulder, breathing deeply.

”I love you,” Logan mumbled into Virgil’s shirt. He felt Virgil squeeze a bit tighter.

”I love you, too, Lo.”

The rest of that day was filled with tickly cuddles and kisses, and Logan felt like the luckiest guy, with the sweetest boyfriend.

[calmlypanicking]

A Friendly Spar

For Tickletober Day 18: Tickle Fight

Late again!!! Because I also did not have a chance to edit it until last night!! Apologies, and curse real life obligations!

BUT I am caught up now and hopefully can get the rest of the fics i have for the month edited and posted on time lol

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Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Hizashi/Switch!Shouta

Word Count: 967 words

Summary: After so long, sparring has become a sort of love language.

[ao3 link]

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After fifteen years of friendship, and over a decade of romance, any relationship would develop its fair share of little quirks. One of their special little quirks was their love languages.

Oh, sure, they had the typical ones. Hizashi thrived on physical touch and words of affirmation (not Shouta’s strong suit at all, but he tried, and Hizashi loved him for that), and Shouta’s was undeniably acts of service. But the one love language they had perfectly in common?

Sparring.

It probably had something to do with growing up in the hero sphere, and training until they dropped during their formative high school years. Shouta especially had a tendency to work himself to exhaustion, always needing to be the best of the best. Somewhere along the way, between the two of them and Oboro (not to mention Nemuri and Tensei, at times), sparring became more enjoyable, and even fun at times.

It was something they carried with them well into adulthood, and working at UA certainly came with its perks to support that – like constant free access to any of the near-dozen gyms on campus, granted that there were no students using it at the time.

And sparring didn’t have to be serious, Hizashi thought as he dodged another swipe from Shouta’s devious fingers. In fact, their spars rarely managed to be serious anymore – they both got enough of that, between training the next generation of heroes and their own regular hero work. This particular spar had devolved almost immediately, both of them needing to let off a little steam after a long week of teaching and cases that went nowhere.

“You can’t run forever,” Shouta grunted, rebalancing himself on his toes after his failed strike.

“And you can’t chase me forever,” Hizashi said, spinning away. 

He’d demanded Shouta remove his capture scarf for the spar – it gave him an unfair advantage that Hizashi was not willing to concede to that evening. He wasn’t that desperate for a laugh, at least not yet. No, right now he wanted even odds and a fair chance to win. He was dying to see that healthy, laughter-induced flush on Shouta’s cheeks as well, and nothing was going to keep him from his prize.

“I’ve chased more difficult opponents for longer. I think my stamina is up to par. Is yours?”

Hizashi gave him a salacious grin. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night, mister.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You love it.”

“I love you – have you considered the idea that there may be a difference?”

“Mmm, nope!”

Hizashi dodged another strike, this time redirecting it in order to bring himself closer to Shouta. He slipped one hand up Shouta’s loose muscle shirt, searching out any tickle spots he could find on the sweat-slicked skin. He used the other to pull Shouta close and hold him there, well aware he was leaving himself open for attack. It was no fun if Shouta didn’t fight back, after all.

“Dammit, Zashi!”

“What, does that tickle? Just a little? You can go ahead and laugh, I won’t tell anyone. Your scary reputation can stay intact.”

“Fuck you!”

“Been there, done that. Weren’t you listening?”

Though his squirming and escape attempts didn’t stop, Shouta buried his face into Hizashi’s neck, leaning his weight against Hizashi and huffing strangled breaths against his skin. Hizashi shivered, then squeaked. He grabbed Shouta’s hip to ground himself, only to finally make Shouta crack and huff a laugh into his neck.

“What, does that tickle?” Shouta chuckled against his throat, scruff and hot breath wreaking havoc on his nerves. “Just a little?”

“Wait, Shouta, please!” Hizashi’s giggles were high pitched and frantic, almost too thick to speak through.

Shouta’s own laughter, on the other hand, was deep and rich and only made his voice even more unfairly attractive. “You’re the one who grabbed me.”

That was true. Hizashi planted both hands against Shouta’s middle, preparing to shove him away, only for Shouta to grab his wrists in a vice grip. Before Hizashi could blink, he was spun around so his back was pressed to Shouta’s chest, arms crossed over his own chest as Shouta continued to grip his wrists and hold him close. Shouta’s face quickly found its way back to Hizashi’s neck, nuzzling and nibbling and huffing horribly ticklish breaths all over. Hizashi squealed, barely holding back his Quirk. They did not need the windows repairs taken out of their paychecks. Again.

“Perhaps,” Shouta whispered right up against the shell of his ear, “it would do you well to remember who your opponent is, and how frequently he kicks your ass.”

Hizashi shrieked and giggled and tried to kick back at Shouta’s shins. “Just you wait until I get your neck!”

“Oh no. I’m so scared.”

Gritting his teeth against his smile, Hizashi threw his weight backwards, catching Shouta off guard in a rare moment, and landed them both on the floor. This was serious now, and Hizashi didn’t intend to lose. He went for the kill immediately, straddling Shouta and shooting one hand back toward his thigh and the other toward his ear. On the other side of Shouta’s neck, Hizashi buried his face and did his best to nuzzle his mustache into the skin.

Shouta howled, trying to buck Hizashi off to no avail. Instead, he brought his hands up to vibrate into Hizashi’s ribs. Hizashi faltered for only a moment, fighting the urge to curl up into a ball and roll off Shouta for his own protection. Instead he steeled himself and forced himself to hold still, cackling into Shouta’s neck.

“Give up!” Shouta choked out through his laughter.

“You first!” Hizashi wheezed.

It was a good thing they had this gym booked for the next hour, because Hizashi doubted either of them would concede any time soon.

[calmlypanicking]

Yall got any rly teasy fic recs? Especially Sanders sides, good omens, destiel, or bnha?

[calmlypanicking]

[calmlypanicking]

Huzzah

Happy anniversary Neil. Music if you turn it up <3

[calmlypanicking]

he is such a little shit /affectionate

nsfw/kink blogs please dni!

[calmlypanicking]

aaand I did it ✨

[calmlypanicking]

oc doodle bc I’m sick again fhfhfjhg

if I were ever to make a more structured and intentional webtoon, I’d probably go with my lil mermaid’s story

it’s a story abt a mermaid who gets rescued by humans - but it’s a group of goofy ahh frat boys who live in a beach house. She ends up fitting right in and becoming besties with them and they find a way to involve her in their life, but it’s life in the perspective of goofy college guys lolll idk I think it’s a cute concept

[calmlypanicking]

Aaaggggghh this is so cuuuuteee!!!!!

Aziraphale's Literary Discovery

Important note: I am no longer writing stuff like this. It was a nice way for me to be happy while in a rather precarious mental state, but I no longer enjoy it all the same way I once did. I'm keeping it up as it was a gift, and there are still people who may enjoy it, but I am unhappy with my writing how it was in this fic, and I don't enjoy writing this stuff anymore. I still write good omens fanfics now, if you want to give me a chance there.

THIS. IS. A. TICKLING. FIC. COMPLETELY. SFW.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @practickles!!! I am your squealing santa this year :)) I hope this is everything you hoped for and more!! (and now i can follow you without being worried that i'll blow my cover lol)

@squealing-santa

screw canon(/j), they are happy together and have tickles.

switch!aziraphale, switch!crowley.

cw: light mentions of alcohol/sobering up magically, cursing (because it's Crowley), using a miracle to pin someone that could be read as invisible bondage.

Aziraphale turned a page in his book, but wasn't really reading anymore. This had been happening more and more often: he would stop reading just to think about the demon who was currently asleep on his couch.

Aziraphale and Crowley had finished off some good wine last night, and instead of sobering up, Crowley had decided to sleep it off on the bookshop's couch. The angel had sobered up, reading all through the night with the occasional glance to the demon's sleeping form.

Honestly, Aziraphale prefers Crowley awake. He loves the demon's antics and being able to spend time together (although the serenity and calmness radiating off the demon's lanky form was delightful). He didn't technically need to breathe, but he did -- soft deep breaths that were almost soft snores.

Aziraphale quickly snapped himself out of the trance he had been in, staring at his friend(?), and glancing back at the book. It was a sweet romcom, one that left Aziraphale feeling giddy and with butterflies in his stomach. The couple in his book were playful, and in the current scene, were poking each other and giggling. This was a fascinating idea that humans called "tickling", which led to supposedly uncontrollable laughter and seemed like a sweet bonding exercise.

Something clicked in his mind and he looked back at Crowley asleep on the couch, limbs splayed out haphazardly. His tight-fitting shirt had risen a little, leaving a sliver of the pale skin of his lower stomach on display. Aziraphale gasped excitedly, looking back at his book where the tickle fight was happening. Supposedly, even small touches could lead to ticklish sensations!

He stood up, beginning to creep over to the sleeping figure, before realizing that Crowley could sleep through almost anything and walking over normally. The angel stared at him with wide eyes, glancing back and forth between his calm face and the sliver of exposed stomach. He tentatively reached out a finger, poking Crowley's abdomen.

There was a faint reaction, a small breath hitching in between small snores and Crowley squirmed a bit. Was Crowley ticklish?! How silly! How human! What a delightful discovery! He giddily clapped, then began tracing the sliver of exposed skin. Crowley huffed, squirmed, and scrunched up his nose a bit, before rolling over and crossing his arms over his stomach.

Aziraphale was ecstatic at his findings, and couldn't wait to enact something rather devious (by his standards)!

|

|

A few days later, he woke a grumpy Crowley up from his nap (and if Crowley became less grumpy when he noticed that he was covered in a cozy blanket, the angel didn't need to know). Aziraphale had a mission: go on a date -- a Friend Date (he told himself, at least) -- and bring up tickling to him! The angel had an innate need to tickle Crowley now, see his presumably adorable reactions, and have the physical contact that the angel began to crave.

"Come on, Crowley!" Aziraphale grinned, pulling the demon into a seated position by his hand.

Crowley grumbled, "For what?"

Crowley seemed entirely uninterested, but in truth, he loved spending time with Aziraphale and would do anything if Aziraphale truly wanted to spend time with him.

"A picnic!" Aziraphale gestured to a wicker basket stocked full of goodies.

Crowley rolled his eyes (but was truly content with this plan), put his shoes on, and drove them to a gorgeous woodsy park. When they had found their own spot, Aziraphale spread out a blanket on the grass, sat down, and began unpacking some small sandwiches and poured them both a glass of wine.

"Not so much now, my dear boy," He handed Crowley the wine, "I'd like you awake for a little while. It's dreadfully boring being all alone and reading by myself!"

He got nothing but a grunt in return, but everything was perfect, so Aziraphale continued on with his ramblings.

In between bites of his sandwiches, he told Crowley all about the books he had been reading, but especially about the lovely rom-com he had just read.

"They had such a lovely relationship! Human love just excites me so much! They do so many sweet things together, not unlike us!"

"Ngk-" Crowley choked slightly on his wine and turned a bit pink, but Aziraphale didn't seem to notice.

"They certainly touched a lot more than we do, though, Crowley!" The angel pouted.

Crowley shrugged, "We're not having sex."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's mouth gaped as he gasped, smacking the demon softly on his leg, "Don't say that! They touched plenty without sexual implications!"

Crowley sipped his wine, not needing to respond.

"They cuddled, and kissed, and even- well," Aziraphale cut himself off, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

This now intrigued Crowley, who sat up a bit, and looked at Aziraphale, scooting closer so they were side by side.

He teased Aziraphale, "Oh? Was it sexual then? You realized I was right and you were wrong?"

Aziraphale huffed indignantly, "No! I'm just not sure if you even know what it is!"

Oh, Crowley was so up for a challenge. "I'm sure I would! I know much more about humans than you do."

Aziraphale leaned closer, grinning and placing a hand on the blanket behind Crowley, so they were almost touching. "Oh really?"

Crowley smirked and nodded, taking his sunglasses off and stowing them safely in the picnic basket, so he could look at Aziraphale in the eyes to show him how serious he was.

"Yes, they were tickling each other!" Aziraphale grinned, hoping that Crowley wouldn't know about tickling, so he could teach him.

"Oh, that? How would I not know about that?" Crowley didn't let anything slip, so Aziraphale thought it might be possible that he just didn't know.

"Yes, I think that's quite intimate," Aziraphale reached out and placed a hand on Crowley's knee, "it seems sweet to me!"

Crowley grumbled, avoiding eye contact awkwardly. "What, is this your way of asking me to tickle you?"

Aziraphale stammered, protesting quickly, "Why would I want that?!"

Now it was Crowley's turn to look offended, "There's nothing wrong with wanting that!"

Aziraphale was now slightly grumpy; this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Crowley had that devilish (albeit attractive) grin across his face, placing a hand on Aziraphale's side.

"This wasn't how this was supposed to goHO-" Aziraphale smacked a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Crowley, that evil, evil demon, had squeezed Aziraphale's side! What a terrible thing for his corperal form to feel! Aziraphale, in all his planning, could not have anticipated this!

A small smirk crept across Crowley's face as he put the other hand on Aziraphale's clothed side and squeezed a few times in a row.

Aziraphale's hands flew down from his mouth to his sides, weakly pushing at Crowley's hands as he laughed heartily. His smile was beautiful. It was, well, angelic.

Crowley was right. Aziraphale thought this was quite nice. He hadn't laughed this hard in a while, and seeing Crowley's enjoyment of his reactions was amazing!

Crowley smiled widely, skittering his nimble fingers along Aziraphale's gorgeous plush stomach, before refocusing his attention on Aziraphale's thighs. Aziraphale's magnificently scrumptious thighs, currently busy with Aziraphale's frantically kicking feet. Crowley stopped, giving Aziraphale a small break, before placing his hands on those delightful thighs.

Aziraphale was not worried in the slightest; he had never heard of someone's thighs being ticklish, just the usual suspects like the upper body, feet, neck, and hips. But thighs? That seemed silly... until Crowley started squeezing them.

Aziraphale barked out a laugh, falling gently on his back as he was unable to hold himself sitting up. He made noises that were so embarrassing: he even squealed! Crowley was unwavering in his ticklish squeezing, grinning broadly. Aziraphale was laughing harder than he ever had, his head shaking back and forth as he laughed frantically, beginning to push at Crowley's hands again. This was Crowley's cue to slow down, and he moved his hands back up to the angel's stomach to gently trace shapes as Aziraphale recovered.

"Y- you're evil!" Aziraphale gasped, still giggling.

"I'm a demon, that's kind of the whole point," Crowley deadpanned, although unable to wipe the smile off his face.

Aziraphale caught his breath, then grabbed Crowley's hands. Crowley's eyes widened slightly, but he tried to play it off, scoffing.

Aziraphale sat up quickly, pushing Crowley onto his back and pinning him there with shocking strength. Crowley looked at him confused and began squirming awkwardly. Aziraphale had fully sat on his hips, pinning his arms above his head as he leaned over the demon, their faces quite close together.

"What? How did you-" Crowley stammered, baffled by Aziraphale's strength, "What are you doing?"

Aziraphale grinned, excited to give Crowley all the exposition of his plan. "When I was reading that book, I tried tickling you, when you were asleep. I poked you, and you reacted! I have to try it again!"

Crowley blushed a bit, before retorting, "Angel, anyone would react to being poked. I'm not ticklish, I'm a demon. Being ticklish is all- cute and innocent. I'm neither of those things."

"I beg to differ," Aziraphale grinned, slipping his warm hand under Crowley's tight shirt, beginning to trace circles on Crowley's stomach.

Crowley's brain short circuted. Not only was the angel on top of him, but he was touching Crowley more intimately than they'd ever touched. And Crowley did feel something -- was that being ticklish?

Crowley squirmed, averting his eyes from Aziraphale's as he clamped his mouth shut.

Aziraphale, ever so oblivious, was slightly upset that it didn't really effect Crowley like it did when he was asleep. Maybe he was controlling his reactions? Maybe he truly was right and wasn't ticklish!

Aziraphale huffed, "You really reacted the other day, I promise!"

Crowley was trying his best to not react, his serpentine eyes flicking towards Aziraphale's well-manicured hand, still tracing under his shirt.

"Ngk- just give it a rest, angel!" Crowley sputtered, feeling giggles (Yes, giggles! Demons aren't supposed to giggle!) bubbling up in his chest.

Aziraphale was starting to feel a bit hopeless; he thought it would have been incredibly endearing if Crowley was ticklish. The demon barely smiled (not counting his mischievous smirks), and Aziraphale would love to hear him laugh, truly laugh, for the first time in years. Aziraphale pouted and decided to give it one last go.

He poked Crowley in the side.

Crowley gasped, jumped, and made awkward eye contact with the angel on top of him.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was ecstatic! A giddy smile broke across his face.

"No, angel, no. I was just startled-" Crowley said quickly, squirming.

"Oh my dear Crowley, my dear silly demon..." Aziraphale grinned.

"No angel I-" Crowley couldn't focus on being called Aziraphale's, due to the imminent danger of him being tickled.

Much to his dismay, Aziraphale began ruthlessly skittering his fingers over Crowley's stomach and sides. Damn his fashionable outfits! The shirt he was wearing was incredibly thin and did nothing to protect him from the angel's attack.

Crowley tried to keep his mouth shut and hide his reactions, but his attempts were futile. He burst out into loud laughter and squirmed as much as he could (which wasn't much). It made sense why tickling was used as a torture method in the past; he would have given up any secret that Aziraphale could ask for in this moment! Although, there was something nice about it: the intimacy, the giddy feeling, and Aziraphale's touch gave him a rush of happiness.

"Why are you laughing, my dear boy? Thought of something devious? Scheming?" Aziraphale laughed along with Crowley -- for such a supposedly evil being, he sure had a contagious laugh -- and scribbled his fingers even faster. "Or are you just... ticklish?"

And if Crowley's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink, he hoped Aziraphale didn't notice.

"You're- teasing- me!" He sputtered indignantly, through bright, happy laughter.

Aziraphale paused, pretending to look offended, "No I'm not! I'm simply asking questions to figure out why you're laughing so much!"

In the midst of talking, he wasn't paying attention to what his hands were doing. His hands moved down to the hem of Crowley's shirt, causing the demon to jump, eyes wide.

Aziraphale's eyebrow raised quickly, "Oh?"

Crowley shook his head, stammering "No," and tugging on his hands.

As both of them knew, although the angel's corporeal form was strong, Crowley could easily have gotten his arms free by non-human means. Maybe he just didn't want to.

The most devilish grin to ever cross an angels face suddenly appeared on Aziraphale's. He let go of Crowley's arms, but not before preforming a miracle that kept his arms trapped in place, taut above his head.

Crowley's snake-like eyes grew wider as he tugged frantically on his arms, beginning to giggle nervously. His whole 'bad boy' persona was completely gone now, and he was quite enjoying this (though he'd never admit such a silly thing).

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale teased, wiggling his fingers at the squirming demon, "are you prepared for your demise?"

That shut Crowley up.

Until Aziraphale did something truly evil. Something so evil that even the higher-ups in Hell couldn't dream of. He repeatedly squeezed Crowley's hips.

Crowley made the most embarrassing noise possible -- he squealed.

"AAAAZiraphale!!!" He laughed, wiggling as much as possible, "YOU BASSSSTARD!!"

Curse that stupid hissing. Usually he was able to disguise it, whenever Aziraphale caught him off guard with accidental(?) flirting or made a silly joke that a big bad demon like himself shouldn't laugh at. Speaking of laughing, Crowley was laughing more than he ever had in his life.

And it felt amazing. Having his angel so close to him in such an intimate way, literally on top of him. He was able to let his guard down.

The angel gasped, "What did you just call me, my dear boy?!"

Aziraphale skittered his fingers around Crowley's stomach and sides, relishing in the rare and genuine laughter.

Luckily, although neither of them could be sure if it was intentional or not, Aziraphale's miracle that pinned Crowley's hand was slowly faltering. Crowley didn't realize (he was laughing too hard to think about much) until his arms subconsciously snapped down to grab at Aziraphale's hands.

Aziraphale paused his attack, concerned about his friend(?). Crowley looked at him, as his leftover giggles became slightly more devious.

Crowley latched his clawed hands onto Aziraphale's clothed sides and rapidly squeezed, disrupting the power that Aziraphale had held over him, and toppling them both over onto their sides, facing each other.

Aziraphale tickled Crowley back, angelic giggles pouring out of his mouth.

"You- you're such a demon!" He exclaimed through loud laughter.

Crowley nodded, squirming closer to Aziraphale as they tickled each other.

They were practically cuddling as their fingers slowed to tracing each other's abdomens, softly giggling.

Aziraphale stared into Crowley's gorgeous auburn eyes and was struck with a sense of overwhelming love.

Crowley's smile was wider than it should have been from leftover giggles as he watched the angel and his smile and gorgeous face. As if God Herself had heard his thoughts, sunlight struck the angel's face in a certain way where he looked like he was glowing (although he may have been radiating an otherworldly glow from overwhelming happiness).

They stayed there for a while, in each others arms, staring lovingly into each other's eyes.

If you made it this far, thank you. Reblogs help writers and artists on tumblr a lot, so consider reblogging if you enjoyed <3. If you'd like, send me an ask if you want to talk about anything (related or unrelated to this fic), as it motivates me to write more.

[calmlypanicking]

I want to be held like that 🥺🥺🥺🥺

I know you probably are receiving dozens of requests already - because I mean, your art is incredible, who wouldn't send in a request? - but if you have time and want to do it, I would love to see some cute/tender tododeku art with lee!deku from you 🥺💞

ty anon!!! <3

didn't get as many requests this round but Im not complaining lol

[calmlypanicking]

they dont want us to know this but the real cure to the agonies is to engage in shenanigans. tomfoolery even 

[calmlypanicking]

How the “Must Rescue the Angel” obsession began!

Enjoy another Eden Adventure!

[calmlypanicking]

Imagine Pre-Accepting Anxiety Virgil walking into the common room and seeing the Light Sides having a tickle fight. Now he has to find a way to keep his tough guy act while dealing with being a secret lee!

HAPPY TICKLETOBER EVERYONE!!! we're starting off strong with this ask, sent to me on jun 18 2020 lmaooooooooooo. if this prompt seems familiar, it's b/c it was also sent to @why-not-a-tickle-blog around the same time! (link to her story here!) and when i tell you've literally been working on this wip on and off ever since i got it,,,,, i am such a wip harder AJDFHGHDJ

and now, without further ado, let's let tickletober 2024 begin!

tickletober day 1- "anticipation"

word count: 7,580 words

So... the Light Sides were weird.

Virgil knew that way before he’d started hanging around their little group. From movie nights to sing-alongs to family dinners, they were overall obnoxiously chummy and irritatingly comfortable with each other.

Case in point: when Virgil finally managed to roll out of bed at about two in the afternoon, there was a strange sound in the air. Not Princey’s singing, or Logic’s lecturing, or even Morality’s incessantly cheerful... whatever he does. 

After reapplying his smeared eye shadow, he meandered out of his room and headed to the common area. As he got closer, it sounded like... laughter?

He huffed a sigh as he swung himself down the stairs.

“Can you all please keep it down--”

Virgil froze, one hand on the railing as he took in the scene before him.

There were the three Light Sides, but he’d never seen them like this. Princey-- ugh, fine, Roman-- was lying on the floor, but what caught Virgil’s eye was the state of disarray he seemed to be in. Next to him was Patton, sitting cross legged and looking similarly rumpled, and next to Patton was Logan, who was normal except for the blush riding high on his cheeks.

That wasn’t the weirdest part, though. The weirdest part was the way Logan was pinching at Roman’s knees and thighs with a careful accuracy, or the way Roman was reaching to vibrate his fingers all over Patton’s stomach, or the Patton had a hand on both Logan’s and Roman’s sides and was squeezing away with reckless abandon. Or the way all three were laughing together in delight at the tickle fight Virgil had somehow managed to walk in on.

Speaking of Virgil: when he processed the scene happening before him, he couldn’t help but let out a surprised little gasp. That noise, quiet as it was in the chaotic room, still managed to stop the other three in their tracks, and they all turned to look at him.

Patton, of course, was the first to speak. “Well, hey, Anxiety!”

“Um--” was all Virgil managed to say. His face turned hot, and he prayed that it wasn’t as bright red as it felt. He gripped the railing under his hand and avoided eye contact. “I--”

Roman scoffed, hurriedly sitting up and pulling away from Logan’s tickly hands.

“Is there something we can help you with, villain?” he asked brusquely, but Virgil got the feeling that he was more embarrassed that Virgil saw him getting tickled than annoyed that the anxious side was there. Still, his words were enough to snap Virgil out of his spell, and he managed to roll his eyes.

“I said,” he repeated, hoping his voice wouldn’t fail him, “would you please keep it down? You’re gonna wake the whole Mind Palace with your... game.”

There was the crack in his voice; Virgil knew it was going to come, and he felt himself grow even warmer. Thankfully, no one commented on it.

“Apologies, Anxiety,” Logan said, straightening his glasses. “We didn’t intend to be so loud. We got... carried away.”

Patton giggled, his hands creeping back to Logan and Roman’s sides. “’Carried away’ sure is one way to put it, guys--”

The other two swatted his hands away, but Virgil caught the flustered grins that adorned both of their faces. Their eyes darted back to Virgil, and he swallowed, suddenly feeling very out of place.

“Uh, okay, fine. Whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

He turned on his heel and marched up the stairs, ignoring Logan’s calls about maintaining a proper sleep schedule, as he tried to stop thinking about what he’d just witnessed.

It wasn’t working. All he could think about now was tickling. How often did the Light Sides tickle each other? Was it often? Who was the most ticklish, and who was the best tickler? Was it always the three of them altogether?

Would they let him join, if he asked?

Virgil’s eyes widened at the thought that just ran through his head. No. Absolutely not, no way, don’t pass go and don’t collect $200.

Like, fine, maybe there was a small part of him that was maybe, just a little, interested in the concept of tickling. And... maybe there was an even smaller part of him that found the idea of being tickled by the Light Sides-- any of them-- somewhat intriguing.

But, fuck. He was Anxiety, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t like stuff like that. If he asked to be a part of their stupid little game, they’d never let him live it down.

... But. Maybe if he didn’t ask?

He slowly stopped walking as he thought it over in his head. It wasn’t an awful idea. The Light Sides were weird enough that maybe, if he played his cards right, he might be able to lure them into tickling him without him asking.

Honestly, if the idea had come to him on another day, he probably would’ve shoved it way back to the back of his mind and pretended it had no appeal to him. But he could practically still hear the Light Sides’ laughter ringing in his ears, and as much as he was loathe to admit it, he kinda wanted to be a part of their game. So his plan was made.

~

His first target was Patton, which made sense for a lot of reasons. Patton seemed to tolerate him more than the other Light Sides-- more than tolerate, to be honest; it was as if he actually kinda liked him. Another good thing about Patton was his attitude: while Virgil normally found that much cheer to be a little nauseating, he couldn’t deny that if anyone was going to start an impromptu tickle fight, it would be Patton.

“Thanks for helping me with these cookies, Anxiety!” Patton said, bringing Virgil out of his thoughts and back to the present situation. He leaned against the counter, trying his hardest to appear open and approachable.

“Whatever,” he replied. “I don’t really have anything better to do, so. Uh. Yeah.”

Fuck, why was he always so awkward?

Whatever-- at least Patton didn’t seem to notice or care; instead, he was focused on pulling out all of the supplies and ingredients and laying them on the counter.

“Okay, first up is the dry ingredients!” he instructed. “Kiddo, you wanna hand me the flour?”

Virgil nodded, pushing himself off of the counter. “Where is it?”

“It’s, uh...”

Patton paused, looking around he kitchen, and Virgil smirked a little as he was reminded that the paternal figure wasn’t nearly as good at cooking as he implied.

“Oh! It’s right up there!” he finally chirped, pointing past Virgil to one of the cabinets. Virgil followed his finger to the very top shelf of the cabinet.

His eyes widened. Finally, an opportunity.

As casually as possible, he moved to the cabinet and braced on hand on the counter. The other hand, he raised high in the air, stretching out his entire body and putting himself in a very vulnerable position. He even stood on his tiptoes as he stretched, hoping Patton would take the hint and deliver what Virgil wanted.

He reached for the flour for as long as he reasonably could, but after about ten seconds, he had no choice but to grab it and pull it down. He turned around, only to find Patton carefully measuring out baking soda, not even paying attention to Virgil’s attempts at vulnerability.

Virgil kicked himself internally, and after a moment he moved forward and dropped the flour onto the counter.

“Here,” he said shortly. Patton turned, giving him a wide smile.

“Thanks, bud!” he said earnestly, opening the bag and grabbing his measuring cup. “Wanna do this one for me while I get started on the eggs?”

Virgil blinked. He’d kinda forgotten that his whole excuse for hanging out with Patton was baking cookies. “Um, sure.”

Patton gave him yet another sunny smile, and Virgil felt compelled to give him a small one in return as he accepted the measuring cup from him.

The two worked together, measuring and mixing ingredients as Patton chattered away. It was-- kinda nice, to be real? Like, maybe Virgil should offer to do this more often, and if he weren’t in one of the most massive lee moods he’d ever been in in his life, he’d probably be able to appreciate it more.

“Alright, time to get these babies on a cookie sheet!” Patton announced, handing a big spoon for Virgil to use. “And afterwards, don’t tell Logan, but we’re totally gonna lick the bowl.”

Virgil nodded, but he didn’t wanna give up on his mission just yet. “Um... can I, uh, get anything else for you?”

Patton turned and looked at him, blinking in surprise before his smile brightened.

“Well, sure, kiddo!” he replied. “There are some chocolate chips on the top shelf, do we wanna add some of those?”

He pointed to the cabinet that was right above them, and Virgil’s heart beat faster. This was it.

“Sure,” he replied as casually as possible. “I’ll get them.”

He placed a hand on the counter to brace himself, and raised the arm closest to Patton as high as he could reach, pretending to scrabble around for the bag of chocolate chips for a few seconds longer than necessary. He even angled his body as subtly as he could, so that his midriff was practically in Patton’s face as he left himself totally exposed.

But nothing happened.

Virgil frowned, but after a few seconds grabbed the bag from the cabinet anyway, lowering himself back to the floor as he broke the seal on the baggie.

“Here,” he muttered, passing it to Patton without making eye contact. There was the slightest pause, but then the bag was lifted from his hand with no more than a cheery, “Thanks!”

Virgil felt himself suppress a sigh as he helped Patton mix in the chocolate chips. Well. On one hand, he got to spend some time with Patton (and even got cookies out of the deal). On the other hand, his genius plot to get tickled had failed with his first target. It was time for target number two.

~

The sound of operatic singing through the halls of the Mind Palace lead Virgil directly to his next target.

He sighed as he nibbled on one of the chocolate chip cookies he and Patton had made, trying to dispel some of his nervous energy before he reached the living room. It wasn’t even just nerves about his current... desires (although there were plenty of those inside of him right now) but-- fuck, he didn’t do this, he didn’t hang around in the common areas like the rest of them, and if it would be totally weird for him to even try, and they were gonna get angry at him, and it would make getting to know them even more difficult in the future-- 

“Oh, Anxiety.” 

A voice full of suspicion snapped him back to reality. He blinked and realized that he’d made it to the living room, where Roman was standing with some sheet music in hand, rehearsing for some musical, based on how loudly he’d been singing moments before.

“To what do I owe the displeasure?” he continued, eyes narrowed sharply. Virgil mentally shook himself and put on his trademark ‘evil’ smirk.

“Hey there, Princey,” he drawled, holding out the Tupperware container in his hand. “Wanna cookie?”

Roman peered down at the peace offering like it was a bomb. “From you? What, are they poisoned?”

“Yep, I poisoned the cookies,” Virgil deadpanned. “That’s why I’m eating one right in front of you, genius.”

He counted the look of embarrassed realization on Roman’s face as a small victory. 

“Well-- well, you might’ve poisoned all but one of them, just to throw me off!” Roman added haughtily. “So, ha!” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “Ha.” He looked at Roman for a moment more before taking another bite. “Well, you were rude to me, so now you get no cookies.”

“What-- hey!” Roman replied indignantly. He moved to Virgil, but the dark side easily held the box out of reach. “Anxiety! That’s not fair!”

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder than that to get these cookies,” Virgil said smugly. He was all to aware of how exposed he was making himself-- it would take so little effort for Roman to grab his side, or scribble at his armpit, or...

But, as expected, nothing came of it, and instead Roman moved away with a derisive sniff.

“Whatever,” he said, turning away. “Even if they’re not poisoned, you probably added salt instead of sugar and cumin instead of cinnamon--”

Virgil narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Hey, Patton and I made them together, and they’re actually good, so--"

Suddenly Roman's arm shot out, taking advantage of Virgil's distraction to swipe a cookie from the box. “Ha! Got one, thank you!”

Virgil blinked. “You--"

He cut himself off at the genuinely triumphant grin on Roman's face, and it took more willpower than he would've admitted to keep from smiling along.

"Yes, yes, you’re very smart," he said, flopping on the couch and rolling his eyes. "Shut up.”

As he reclined against the sofa, he let his eyes drift shut (insomnia's a bitch, even for a man on a mission to get wrecked), but very quickly it became clear that the other side was going to make a fuckin' production out of eating this cookie.

“Mmm... Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm!" Roman pondered with his mouth full. He waved his arms emphatically as he continued, "This is just the most scrumptious, the most divine, the most splendiferous cookie I’ve ever--”

Virgil's eyes snapped open. “Are you always this dramatic and loud? I’m trying to relax.”

That caught the creative side's attention. Roman turned to look at Virgil with his regular suspicion back in his eyes.

“Relax? Here?”

His tone made Virgil tense up behind his cocky facade. “What about it?”

A few second went by as Roman looked at him skeptically. “Nothing, it’s just... You’re always in your room, hiding away like a hermit in a cave.”

“Hiding?" Virgil repeated, eyes narrowed. "What, from you? Not likely.”

Roman moved closer, suddenly leaning over Virgil's laid out form and coming just inches away from his face.

“Aw, don't tell me that I scare you, little Anxiety?”

With that one sentence, Virgil mood came back even stronger than before. There was something in Roman’s voice-- either his teasing tone or his babyish words-- that made Virgil’s stomach do a completely rude and uncalled-for flip, but he merely rolled his eyes.

“The only thing scary about you is your ego,” he retorted. He scanned Roman up and down before closing his eyes again. “Otherwise, you’re just soft.”

Roman scoffed, turning to leave. “Shut up.”

“Make me, loser.”

He watched Roman’s back as he froze in place, and slowly the creative side turned back around.

“You wanna say that again?”

Virgil felt his breath catch, but he forced himself to stay calm. Now was his chance.

He opened his eyes, shooting Roman the cockiest smile he could muster.

“What, make me?”

The prince was glowering at him, his arms folded across his chest. When he spoke, it was in a deep, smooth voice that sent a shiver down Virgil’s spine.

“You don’t want me to make you.”

Virgil smirked, folding his arms behind his head and gazing up at Roman with a smug look on his face.

“I’d like to see you try, Princey.”

That was it. Roman’s eyes narrowed, dark and competitive, and Virgil had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing preemptively.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he muttered lowly, stalking over to Virgil and-- holy shit, he actually straddled Virgil’s waist and placed his hands on either side of his torso, and this was happening, this was happening, this was--

“Oh my goodness gracious, there it is!”

Roman voice derailed Virgil’s train of thought, and he blinked in confusion at the creative side, who wasn’t even looking at him anymore.

“What--?”

Roman laughed lightly, reaching over Virgil’s head and pulling something out from between the couch cushions.

“My sketchbook!” he said triumphantly, shifting off of Virgil and flipping through the pages. “Finally, I’ve been looking for it forever. I had this great idea where I can use a mix of paint and glitter glue to--”

Virgil’s head spun with the shift in the conversation as Roman rambled about his newest project. The anticipatory tension in his stomach started to lessen, leaving him feeling dazed and confused.

“Um, you-- so-- you--”

Roman wasn’t even listening to him; he easily stood up from the couch-- and Virgil definitely did not try to lean into his touch as he moved away, shut up-- and moved toward the door.

“I must get started right away! My paintbrushes aren’t going to wait any longer!”

He hurried out of the room, leaving Virgil alone on the couch, face flushed and mind full of visions of how exactly he wanted Roman to use those paintbrushes.

He dropped his face into his hands. Why was this so hard?

~

The rest of the afternoon passed without another little event like that-- Virgil had been so flustered, he’d had to go back to his room for several hours, alternating between screaming into a pillow at his own awkwardness, and daring to reminisce about the feeling of Roman's weight pinning him down.

This was such a bad idea. Not only were there a million ways it could go wrong (he could make a fool of himself, he could genuinely cross someone's boundaries on accident, his plan could be found out and his desires could be rejected-- the list goes on) but now he also had to deal with coming so tantalizing close to what he wants more than anything, only to have it slip just out of his reach.

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night, flopping back on his bed--

pressed against the couch cushions, Roman easily holding you down with one hand as the other searches all over for the exact spot to make you beg for mercy, which you know he won't give you, he wants to make you scream--

Immediately he shot up again, face flushed. God, he was jumpy tonight, and that was saying something. He stood up, stepping cautiously around the piles of clothes on the floor to work some of his jitters out. He tried to recall some of the simple exercises Logan had shown him once to help relax him before bed: rolling his neck and shoulders, twisting back and forth to crack his back, raising his arms and stretching them high to the sky--

Patton right behind you, grabbing your hands and holding them nice and tight as he laughs and whispers in your ear, taking full advantage of your riding-up shirt to spider all over that one tickle spot just above your belly button--

His arms snapped down with a choked-off gasp.

Okay. Being in his room was fucking with him. That was definitely why he was feeling jittery and twitchy and sensitive to his own shirt rubbing against his skin. No other reason.

... He had to get out of there.

Grabbing his phone and flipping up his hood, Virgil slid back out into the hallway. It was later in the evening, past dinner time (well, past the time the Light Sides had dinner-- his dinner would involve cold leftovers eaten in front of the fridge at 2 AM) and the Mind Palace was quiet.

Well... mostly quiet.

Virgil crept down the hall to the top of the stairs. From the top, he could make out some sound coming from the living room-- no laughter this time, thankfully, but some quiet droning noises coming from the TV. Probably Patton or Roman-- Logan didn't watch much TV.

Virgil stood with one hand clasped to the stair railing like a life line. He gnawed on his lip, a fluttery, delicate feeling lighting up his chest.

He wanted to try this. There were very few things Virgil ever, ever wanted to try... but he wanted to try this. It was clearly something that was normal among the Light Sides, and-- and despite what he'd previously thought, they don't actually... seem to despise his company. This was-- this was something he could ask for, even just to ask, and even he could admit that the idea of one of them saying yes wasn't impossible.

All at once he lunged down the stairs, feet thumping loudly as he got closer to the living room. He would do it-- he'd go right over to the couch and shove his feet onto someone's lap and surely then, surely then, someone would take pity on him and just freaking tickle him already!

Virgil rounded the corner into the living room, and before he could question himself he hopped over the arm of the couch and threw himself down on the cushions, shoving his feet directly onto the lap of the side sitting at the other end of the couch.

Immediately, he felt two inquisitive eyes boring into him in bewilderment.

"... Anxiety?" Logan asked. "Are you alright?"

Aaaaaaand there went all of Virgil's confidence. He hadn't planned for Logan to be there, not now, not when his mood was at an all time high and he was face to face with the person least likely to do anything about it.

Virgil ignored the tense, mortified feeling in his stomach. “Yup.” A beat, and then he pulled out his phone, as if he hadn't just jumped over the couch just to put his feet in Logan's lap--

“Can I... do something for you?” Logan continued.

Yes, you can pull my socks off and hold my ankles down and--

“Nope.”

Silence fell once again. Virgil was all too aware of his body, too tense to move a muscle or disrupt Logan any further.

“Is this comfortable for you? To have your feet on my lap?”

But... he'd come this far, he'd already pushed past the walls he'd built between himself and the other sides. If nothing else, if this plan failed and he never got what he wanted, at least he could say that he tried.

He shrugged. “Yeah."

He felt Logan's eyes on him a moment longer.

“Very well, then.”

Logan turned back to the TV, and Virgil felt himself wavering already. This was maybe his most ill-conceived idea yet-- they weren't even doing anything together, not really, and try as he might he couldn't think of any way to engage Logan in conversation about anything, let alone anything related to tickling--

“Hey, gang!”

Virgil froze, his stomach plummeting. He shot a desperate glance at Logan, but the logical side paid him no mind as Patton and Roman entered the room, carrying snacks and blankets.

“Ah,” Logan said, turning to the two of them without another glance in Virgil’s direction. “I had forgotten that was tonight.”

Virgil couldn’t help letting out a sigh of frustration, making Roman raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, and I suppose you’re just too cool to deign to join our movie night, huh, Doom and Gloom?”

“Now, Roman, don’t be mean,” Patton gently chastised, placing the snacks on the table and beaming down at Virgil. “We’re happy to have you with us, Anxiety! It’s about time you start joining our group activities.”

Like tickle fights? Virgil thought but didn't say. His ever-growing lee mood was making him feel all fuzzy, and all he could think about as he looked between the three other sides was Patton’s hands, Logan’s fingers, and Roman’s voice, all teasing and tormenting him in unison.

“Whatever,” he finally said, forcing himself to shrug blithely. “I don’t really care--”

He cut himself off with a choked gasp as Roman leaned down and abruptly picked up Virgil into a bridal carry. They stayed still as Patton sat down next to Logan, rearranging the blankets and chattering innocently about what movie to watch, but all Virgil could focus on was the feeling of Roman’s hands on his body and the teasy, squirmy feeling building up in his chest and stomach.

“Are you staying with us or not?” Roman asked lowly, and Virgil had to fight the urge to squeak as his warm breath hit his ear. 

“Uh-- sure.”

Roman hummed, and then he was leaning forward, dropping Virgil into Patton’s lap with his feet resting on Logan’s thighs.

“Woah!” Patton chuckled, looking at Virgil with amusement. “Comfy, kiddo?”

Virgil face flushed red. “I-- I didn’t--”

“He’s gonna stay anyway, and we all know he likes to sit in weird places, so,” Roman explained, flopping down on the couch next to Patton and throwing an arm over the back of the couch. He pulled a pillow into his lap and gently pushed Virgil back by his shoulder, until the Dark Side somehow found himself stretched between all three of them on the couch.

“Anxiety, is this acceptable for you?” Logan asked distantly, and Virgil peeked up to find him observing him closely. Virgil froze in his gaze for what felt like far too long, but eventually managed a short nod.

Patton clapped. “Awesome! Now we all get to hang out together. It’ll be so fun!”

He leaned forward to grab the remote, and Virgil swore he could feel his hands as they ghosted over his stomach. He squirmed minutely, both hoping that no one would call him out on how flustered he was, and praying that they would.

This was way more than he was expecting.

"Ah," Logan said as the movie began playing. "I do love this opening number."

He moved like he was folding his hands in his lap, but really, he placed his hands directly onto the tops of Virgil's ankles. The music started, and Logan-- Logan tapped out a rhythm against Virgil's skin, matching the tempo of the music on the TV.

Virgil clenched his jaw so quickly he wondered if they could hear it. It... didn't tickle, not really. The touch was too light, too quick, too inconsequential to really light his nerves in any way. But the anticipation was there, bubbling inside him, and he found himself shifting his legs restlessly at the touch.

"Is something wrong, Anxiety?" Logan asked, and Virgil paused. It-- it must've been his imagination, that spark in Logan's eye that matched the spark in Virgil's stomach. "No," he said, just slightly breathless. Logan hummed and returned his eyes to the screen.

Then his hands moved: one hand tapping more firmly against his ankle, and the other running its nails along the top of Virgil's foot.

Virgil tensed every muscle in his legs; it was so much worse this time-- not only did being stretched out make Virgil feel so much more vulnerable, but now there were two other people he had to hide his reactions from. Roman was right there, for God's sake, his face mere inches above Virgil's-- Virgil had to turn his head completely toward the TV just to hide the small smile that was already on his face.

He stayed in that position as the movie played, but he couldn't tell you anything that was happening on the screen. All he could focus on was Logan's fingers as they slowly migrated from trailing the top of his foot, to tapping directly over his socked toes, to drawing delicate circles along the ball of his foot. His other hand stayed on Virgil's ankle-- like a restraint.

Virgil felt flushed, and prayed that the dark lighting of the room would cover it. Distantly he heard Patton laughing, and he could feel Roman's chest rumble where it was pressed against his shoulder.

And then he felt Logan take all five fingers right to the center of Virgil's sole and tickle.

"Nah-hahaha!" Virgil screamed, yanking his leg back and just barely missing Patton's face with his knee. He felt both Patton and Roman jump underneath him.

"Anxiety, are you okay?" Patton asked in a panicked voice. He didn't even seem bothered that Virgil had almost thrown his knee into his nose.

Roman looked down at Virgil with bewilderment. "Jiminy Crickets, is the movie that funny to you?"

“Ah,” Logan said. “My hypothesis was correct.”

Virgil froze.

Patton quirked his head. “You have a hypothesis?”

Roman eyed down at Virgil suspiciously for just a moment more before gesturing to Logan. “Please, Teach, explain."

Alarm bells went off in Virgil's head. He was suddenly desperate to leave the entire situation before it was too late, but Logan's hand resting on his ankle felt like a vice he couldn't escape.

“Well," Logan began in his lecture voice, "for the past few hours, Anxiety has been expressing an interest in becoming closer with the three of us through quality time, amicable banter, and excessive physical contact. The physical contact is really what gave it away, but it all comes down to the fact that this change in behavior occurred immediately after Anxiety walked in on our... roughhousing this morning.”

Virgil was distracted by the way Logan tried to avoid saying the word tickle (and man, Virgil thought, it’d be so much fun to see him forced to say it, oh my god shut up brain) but Patton’s gasp of understanding brought him back to his present situation. He looked away from the moral side, but to his distress he found himself face to face with Roman, who was looking at him with a growing interest.

“Wait a minute,” he said slowly. Virgil squirmed.

“Shut up.”

“Are you telling me--”

“Princey, I swear to God, if you don’t stop talking right now--”

Suddenly Patton’s hand was on his leg, his fingers pressing in just above his knee, and Virgil’s words turned into a choked gasp.

Patton quirked his head. “Are you ticklish, kiddo?”

Virgil’s mouth opened and shut. “I-- I--”

And of course, Logan chose that moment to drag his nails all the way down Virgil’s foot, the hand resting on Virgil's ankle suddenly tightening to keep him from jerking away as his fingers wiggled right against Virgil's tickle spots.

Virgil couldn’t help it: he squealed, loudly, and immediately buried his face in his hands.

“That seems to be the answer to that question,” Logan said, sounding far too pleased with himself for Virgil’s taste. “The more important question, however, is whether or not Anxiety wants to be tickled. Although I believe we know that answer to that question, as well.”

Even with his face behind his hands, Virgil felt all three pairs of eyes on him.

"I--" he squeaked, then coughed, blatantly stalling for time as his mind spun in circles. "I-- um-- you don't-- I guess--"

"Kiddo, is that really what you've been trying to do all day long?" Patton asked gently. Virgil made one short, choked sound, and nodded rapidly.

"... So when I told you to be quiet earlier," Roman said slowly, "and you said 'make me'... that was you trying to get tickled?"

A beat, and then Virgil nodded again. He quickly debated the merits of allowing himself to be swallowed by the floor.

"Well..."

Logan's voice was laced with something that Virgil was wholly unprepared for.

"It would be a shame," he continued nonchalantly, "if Anxiety came so far out of his figurative shell only to not receive any recognition or praise for how difficult that must have been. Perhaps some positive reinforcement will help encourage him to continue this behavior in the future."

Logan didn't even have to finish his sentence before Roman dove for Virgil's wrists. Virgil yanked as hard as he could, but Roman was in a better position and easily managed to pull his arms above his head. Immediately Virgil's fight or flight instincts kicked in, and he was about to start literally kicking (even though his brain was screaming at his body to shut up stop it play dead holy shit they're giving you what you want) before Patton leaned as far over his torso as he could manage, keeping his middle pinned in place.

"Anxiety..." he cooed, actually cooed, and yup Virgil was totally gonna die. "Wanna look at me, sweetheart?"

It took Virgil a second to realize that his eyes were screwed shut in anticipation. He peeked out only to find Patton looking at him with the most soft, loving, mughy-gushy expression Virgil had ever seen, especially directed towards him. It made him feel like he was melting.

"When we play our tickle games," he continued, "we always say 'red' when we need a break. Is that okay for you, too?"

Virgil couldn't even speak, so he gave a jerky nod.

"For safety, we should proceed slowly," Logan said, "in order not to overwhelm him." The way Logan was talking to the others like Virgil wasn't there sent a small thrill down his spine.

"I disagree," Roman replied. "I think our poor, sweet Anxiety has waited much too long already." His upside-down grin made Virgil want to spit curses up at him, except he was pretty sure the only thing that would come out if he opened his mouth were pathetic squeals.

"Where should we begin?" the creative side continued, tracing his thumbs around the soft skin of Virgil's wrist. "His... bright red ears? Or his wiggly hips? Or his bouncy little tummy?"

"Fuck off," Virgil gasped.

Roman clicked his tongue. "Temper! Patton doesn't like swearing!"

"Oh, let him fuss," Patton replied. "This is all very overwhelming for him, it's okay! If I had known you liked tickling too, Anxiety, I would've gladly done it for you a long time ago!"

"I don't--"

Then Virgil gasped, and fell into helpless frantic giggles. In unison Roman and Patton swiveled their heads to look at Logan.

"There's no use in lying now, Anxiety," he said calmly, his fingers flicking and fluttering all over Virgil's soles. "We all know that if you didn't like tickling, you wouldn't let us do this at all. Ergo you must enjoy tickling, more specifically being tickled, otherwise you wouldn't have put yourself in this position in the first place. Does that make sense?"

Virgil couldn't answer, because he was in heaven. Or maybe hell. Logan's fingers were deft and torturous, flitting back and forth faster than Virgil could process. Belatedly he wiggled his feet, trying to hide one behind the other and continuously failing. And damn Logan for real for being so observant, because when he noticed the spot on Virgil's arches that made him kick the hardest, he focused all of his attention there, switching between his feet as fast as he could.

"Wait wait wait, waitwaitwhaihaihaiait!" Virgil couldn't believe the noises that were coming out of his mouth right now. He had never laughed like this around the light sides-- had barely ever laughed at all-- and now they were getting to hear him like this, his giggles embarrassing and dorky and loud--

So loud, in fact, that he barely even heard Logan say, "Patton, would you like a turn?" before ten fingers dove in to vibrate all over his vulnerable, ticklish stomach.

"Nah-ahahahaha!" The shriek that left his lips shocked everyone in the room, and Virgil used the confusion to yank his arms out of Roman's grasp, sitting up and trying to launch off the couch in the same motion. He would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for Patton's meddling arms around his waist.

"Woah!" Patton laughed out. "Easy now, kiddo! Don't wanna waist this chance to get tickled!" On cue he tazed his fingers where they laid in the divots of Virgil's sides, causing the anxious side to jerk and flop like a worm on a string. His hands grappled desperately for Patton's, but he made no progress getting them off before Roman's hand entered his vision.

"Come back here, Gay-Lee Shrilliams!" Roman sang. Blindly, he grappled for Virgil's wrists, grabbing one and yanking him back towards Roman's end of the couch. Virgil was disoriented, and took the time to inhale greedy breaths before he was suddenly flipped around again. Now Logan was sat straddled over his shins, Patton kneeling on the floor beside him, and Roman's chest was pressed against his back with his wrists in each hand.

For a moment there was silence.

"Well," Logan said curtly. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

And immediately his hands were clamped above Virgil's knees, and they were off to the races.

"Ahahahahahahaha!"

"There we are," Logan said, a hint of smugness in his voice as he prodded up and down Virgil's thighs. "We'll have to avoid any further interruptions if we're going to find all of your ticklish spots, Anxiety. Please behave yourself."

"I'm-- you-- nahahaha!" Virgil squealed; Patton had placed his hands on either side of his ribs, and was now squeezing them as if Virgil were a particularly squeaky bagpipe.

"Hold him down!" he called affectionately. "He's a squirmer!"

Virgil gasped through his laughter as the other two followed Patton's instruction; he could feel them rearranging their positions on his arms and legs in order to keep him even more stuck than he already was. Blearily, he turned onto his side as much as possible, facing the back of the couch and weakly attempting to hide his stomach from his ticklers.

"Uh oh, where are you going?" Roman asked, all sugar sweetness. "Is someone trying to hide away? Hm? Big bad Anxiety trying to run away from the tickles?"

Without warning he released one of Virgil's hands, and took it upon himself to use his free hand to investigate all over Virgil's exposed armpit. Virgil spasmed and shrieked. His free hand might as well have not been there at all, considering how absolutely useless it was at protecting his armpit, or his ribs, or--

"Uh oh," Patton cooed, voice sickeningly sweet, and Virgil could only look on in giddy terror as he wiggled his fingers in the air. "Don't think I just forgot about that tummy, Anxiety!"

Just like before, Patton pressed all ten fingers into Virgil's stomach fat, wiggling mercilessly; unlike before, Virgil couldn't shoot himself off the couch with Patton himself kneeling in the way. Logan and Roman had stopped their tickles, but only so they could restrain him even further to avoid another escape attempt.

"Nihihihiehehehehehe!" Virgil didn't even know what he was begging for anymore. For less tickles, or more?

"A ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky!" Patton sang. "Who's a ticklish goober? Is it Anxiety? I think it is!" He giggled as he easily avoided Virgil's free hand, darting back and forth as it fruitlessly tried to cover his stomach from Patton's wiggling fingers.

Through his teary eyes, Virgil accidentally made eye contact with Roman. He immediately regretted it: both because he saw something akin to actual affection in Princey's eyes (which, gross) but more because he watched that affection slip away to smug mischief.

"Hey, don't be greedy, Padre!" Roman announced. "I want a turn!"

And with that he let go of Virgil's other hand, but the anxious side had no time to do anything about that before he, too, was digging his fingers into Virgil's stomach. Virgil squealed again, arching hid back and curling in on himself over and over in an endless loop. While Patton had no trouble attending to Virgil's tummy pudge, Roman's hands were positioned at the top of his stomach just below his ribs, and he had no issues at all jumping up to pinch and massage along the sensitive bones every few seconds.

"Fascinating," Logan said, and oh god, why did his voice make Virgil feel even more trapped than he already was? "Patton, scoot down a bit. I'd like to try something."

Virgil felt Patton slide his hands slightly up Virgil's torso, still plucking away at his oversensitive nerves like guitar strings.

"Slow down for a moment," Logan instructed, and the others listened, thank God. Virgil took the opportunity to breathe, his eyes screw tightly shut. He couldn't handle seeing Roman's smirk, or Patton's giddiness, or Logan's studying stare.

"I've noticed something in his reactions," the logical side continued. "And I have another hypothesis."

Virgil should've opened his eyes.

If he had, he might've been prepared for when Logan's fingers descended all around his bellybutton and squeezed.

Virgil shrieked. He screamed. He yelled and hollered and wailed and every other synonym he could think of, except he couldn't think at all because Logan was flexing his fingers over and over and over again with terrible, ruthless accuracy. Virgil used all his strength to try to curl up, but with Logan on his hips, Roman behind his back, and Patton in the middle, there was absolutely nothing he could do to protect his tummy from ticklish agony.

"I think we found his favorite spot!" Patton cooed.

Yeah, no fucking shit, Virgil thought wildly. He could barely breathe, his face hurt from smiling, his head was melty with joy, and his innards felt as if he had swallowed a dozen butterflies that continued to dance around inside of him. He felt trapped, and teased, and embarrassed, and desperate, and he--

And he loved it. Oh my God, he loved it. Had he been missing out on this all along?

It took a long, long time before Virgil realized that Logan had stopped. His hands, warm and heavy, laid flat on his stomach, and his palms rubbed firmly against his skin. He blinked his eyes opened-- when had he closed them?-- and realized he was practically lying down again, having slid so much he'd ended up resting his head against Roman's thigh. It took another minute for him to realize that his hand felt strange; looking over, he flushed anew when he saw Patton's large hand wrapped around his own, fingers intertwined. Did Virgil do that?

Reality jolted back into him, and like a bear trap he sprang up and closed in on himself, shrinking away from any touch.

"Um-- I'm done-- red," he stuttered. God, why was he a loser? They had already stopped tickling him, he didn't need to say the safeword-- but his skin still felt alight with nerves, and despite how the whole experience had made him feel, he really didn't think he could handle anymore tonight.

Virgil didn't know why it surprised him that all three of moved back, Logan and Roman scooting to either end of the couch and Patton leaning back on his haunches. It surprised him, but it shouldn't. Because they're them. The light sides, the "others" as he'd always thought of them-- they were nice. Fun. And they cared.

"So..."

And of course, there was Princey to ruin it. Virgil dared to shoot his eyes over and was met with the smuggest goddamn look he's ever seen on Roman's consistently smug face.

"Was it everything you hoped for, sweet Anxiety?" he crowed. Immediately Virgil dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

"Aw, there he goes! Too much sweet talking for such a sourpuss like you?"

Virgil hissed at him, only to hear twin snorts from the other two Sides. He looked up, betrayed.

"Apologies, Anxiety," Logan said, biting his bottom lip as he smiled. Patton was covering his own mouth with both hands. "I can assure you we hold no judgement or mockery for you. It's just that this entire display was... objectively adorable."

"Noooooo..." Virgil whined. He slid down in his seat and covered his face again. His cheeks burned against his palms.

It was only a few seconds before he felt a tap on his knee, and after a moment he lowered his hands enough to peek out beyond his fingers. Patton was there, ducking his head a bit to catch Virgil's eye.

"Was that fun?" he asked gently. A beat. Virgil nodded. "Would you like to do it again?"

Virgil snapped his arms down to his sides and slammed back against his seat. Patton raised his hands placatingly.

"In the future!" he said. "I just mean..."

He looked at the other two Sides before confirming, "Well, I think we all had fun. And we can work out what exactly you're comfortable with later, but... I hope you'd like to do that again sometime."

"Please--" Virgil blurted. "I mean. Yes. I want to. Again."

"Good," Logan said. "Now lay back down."

He looked over, inquisitive, only to flush again as Logan leaned back and patted his lap.

"You can't seriously think I'm gonna fall for that."

"We are not going to tickle you again unless you explicitly ask for it," Logan said (and wow, now Virgil was gonna have to store that away in his anxiety-fantasies, not getting tickled anymore unless he uses his words). "You've just been exerted very quickly in a very short amount of time, you've been anxious and twitchy all day prior to this evening, and even now you're struggling to remain upright."

Virgil blinked; it was true. His head was lolled back against the cushion. His body was tired, it's true, but his mind felt somewhat hazy, somewhat calm. He blinked slowly.

"... Are you gonna put the movie back on?"

Roman scoffed. "Of course we are. We know you need background noise, Sleeping Beauty."

Right. Of course they knew that. Because they knew him, now.

Virgil fidgeted, then nodded. "I'd... I'd like that."

And he did.

[calmlypanicking]

Witches Curse

Words: 4,494

Warnings: None

This can be seen either romantically or platonically, I don't mind ^^

This was inspired by this incredible art and this idea by @carrie-tate . Check out her blog!! He makes amazing stuff :D <3

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Witches sucked, Castiel decides, glaring over his shoulder and rolling the tense muscles out the best he can. The ache persists much to his annoyance. He sighs bitterly. Witches sucked so much. 

Dean, Sam, and Cas had been hunting something that had been running rampant. Cures and curses had been popping up around Missouri for the last few weeks - all indicating a witch on a spell spree. It seemed pretty cut and dry, and Dean had proudly bolstered they'd be back in time for beers and a good slice of pie. 

But because their luck could never be that good, the hunt went sideways fast. 

They'd snuck into the house easily, and found the altar room where the witch was preparing a new enchantment. Slowly, the trio split up and crept around to circle him. Sam had the shot lined up perfectly, a finger easing on the trigger when Dean had accidentally knocked down a shaky stack of mismatched crockery from his hiding place - inadvertently causing Sam to misfire from the crash and strike the drywall. 

Turns out, people don't take kindly to being shot at. 

The witch lashed out instantly, a frightened yell wrenching from him as he blasted the first spell to mind at his intruders. The flashes of light and echoing shots of guns were overwhelming. 

Cas, armed with only his angelic grace, slipped around the firefight to hopefully catch the witch in a blind spot and end this. Unfortunately, one of Sam's bullets ricocheted off the concrete wall and only just missed Cas's cheek. The close call made him gasp in alarm, giving away the element of surprise. 

In a split second, the witch whirled around and rambled off a fast spell, causing pain to streak through Cas's shoulder blades. He yelled out, stumbling away from the witch and grabbing at his spine when the feeling spread and something shifted under his skin. It hurt. 

A sharp bang burst through the room, something wet hitting the floor and quickly followed by the heavy thudding of dead weight. Dean's gun was still smoking from the fresh bullet, raised to where the witch had just been standing, but he practically threw it to the ground in his rush to get to his friend's side. 

"Cas! Cas, you alright? Talk to me!" He demanded, hands splayed out towards Castiel as the angel writhed on the spot, still desperately clawing at his spine. 

"H-Hurts-" Cas choked out, suddenly wrenching at the sleeves of his coat to shed it from his burning skin. 

In an instant, Dean was helping him yank off the heavy material, startling at the sight of Cas's skin moving under his white dress shirt. "Cas, what the fu-" 

"Guys, what's happening?" Sam demanded worriedly from where he was crouched by the witch, checking for a pulse. 

"That son a bitch did something to Cas!" Dean growled, panic in his face as the angel suddenly gasped and twisted in place. "Cas-" 

A sharp tearing sound burst through the room and all Dean saw was a mass of darkness before he was thrown back into Sam. The Winchester brothers fell in a heap on the cold floor, the older man slightly winded from the sudden impact. 

"Augh, get off of me, Dean."

"Give me… a sec, man. Jesus." 

Dean coughed for air only to yelp when his younger brother hefted himself up on his forearms - making the older hunter roll off of Sam's lower back and land facedown on the concrete with a grunt. 

Sam looked from Dean, to Cas and froze. His lips parted in bewildered shock, eyebrows practically in his hairline as he registered what he was seeing. "...Dean."

Dean, hearing the awe in his little brother’s voice, lifted himself from the floor to look at the end of the altar room. He froze too. 

"Cas?" He asked cautiously.  

Castiel, angel of the lord, was standing at the edge of the room with a pair of hulking, black wings stretched out on either side of his body. 

So yeah, witches sucked. 

Cas was staring at the feathered appendages with round, blue eyes. Then, after a moment of silence, he muttered a gruff, "Fuck." 

The trio of misfits had left Missouri quickly after the curse had been placed on Castiel. Unfortunately, due to how misplaced they felt on a human vessel, Cas didn't trust himself to fly back to the Bunker. Cas' wings protested the cramped space the entire time he was stuck in the backseat of the Impala, which only added to his agitated state. Sam and Dean tried to get him to open up and let them help, but he sent them a sharp look at every attempt and continued brooding.

As soon as the Impala parked, Cas shoved himself out of the car and stomped up to the woods, ignoring the humans' calls behind him. While he trusted Sam and Dean - hell they were his closest friends - having his wings exposed was a level of vulnerability he never knew existed. He couldn't handle their eyes on his angelic appendages for another minute.

Hours later, Cas is fully settled into bitterness. No matter what he does, he can't get comfortable with how weighty and awkward the wings feel in a human vessel. With his grace, the impressive appendages are cloaked safely, tucked away from any misgivings in the human world. The overexposure is downright uncomfortable now - the dirt scratching on his primaries and the wind upsetting the pristine layout of feathers. Cas hates this. 

Soft footsteps make the angel turn sharply, his years as a soldier instinctively preparing to yank out his blade and stab whatever was going to make his life worse. 

Dean quickly holds up his hands in alarm, taking a stumbling step backward and almost tripping over a tree root. "Woah there, buddy," he placates with a nervous smile, eyeing the sharp blade. "Let's not go all 'Michael Myres' here, okay?"

Cas glares, but he already feels his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. With a sigh, Cas re-sheathes the blade and sits back on the forest floor, wings hiking up around himself to hide from Dean. 

"What do you want, Dean?" He asks in a choleric tone, not wanting to be disturbed from his self-resenting, but safe position. 

Dean didn't shift from his spot, hands slowly lowering to sit in his jacket pockets as he worriedly stared at Cas. "Sam and I have been looking into the lore," he says, hoping to draw the angel's interest. "We're tracking down a way to reverse this."

Cas doesn't answer. 

Dean, never one to enjoy the silence, clears his throat and tries again. "You've been up here for hours, Cas, I just wanted to come check on you. You haven't exactly been very talkative since you got hexed." 

"I wonder why." Cas snips, hunching deeper into himself. "It's not like a witch cursed me to expose the essence of my angelic side." 

Dean makes a small noise of regret. "Right- uh… sorry." 

At the subdued tone, Cas closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. When he opens them again, he tries to sound more neutral. "It's not your fault, Dean. Thank you for looking for a cure." 

The sound of crunching twigs lifts Castiel's head, turning to see Dean slowly approaching. His eyes are glued to the trees ahead, avoiding looking at the wings that are shifting uneasily. The lack of staring is honestly a relief to Castiel, and he appreciates the gesture. 

When Dean is standing by Cas - far enough to give space but close enough to hear each other easily - he flicks his gaze to the bright blue eyes that are watching him carefully. "Any room on this hill for one more?" 

Cas regards the hunter for a moment, then sighs and nods, waving a hand as Sam taught him to show he didn't mind. Dean sinks to the ground, grunting in mild discomfort as his knees protest the action. He really was getting too old for this hunting business, he wasn’t sure how many years left his knees had with this work. 

Once seated comfortably, Dean clasps his hands over his bent knees and releases a breath, inhaling slowly to enjoy the crisp air. He doesn't get much of a chance to enjoy the Bunker’s surrounding woods. 

“Can I ask something?” He inquires.

Cas nods in his peripheral vision, still tucked into himself glumly. 

“What do they feel like? In this body, I mean.”

Cas lets out a deep sigh and rolls his shoulders, the ache persisting and prickling at his neck. “It sucks.”

Dean couldn’t stop the small laugh that left him at the bone-dry, deadpan answer. He quickly schooled his expression, turning to apologize, but there was a small smile on Cas’s face. The angel glanced at him.

“Humans weren’t meant to encompass the full weight and strength of angel wings,” he says. “It's why we keep them tucked away when we use a human vessel. It protects the human from extra strain and protects us too.”

Dean cocks his head to the side. “Protects you?” He repeats. 

Cas gives a small, miserable wave to his angelic appendages. “Earth is beautiful,” he sighs. “But it is filled with things that can damage our wings. It’s safer for everyone if we keep them hidden.”

Dean glances at the glossy, ebony feathers standing tall over him. With a small hum, he smiles at Cas. “Well, despite the situation, I’m glad I finally get to see them. They’re really cool.” 

Castiel glances at Dean in confusion. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, most angels are depicted to have white wings, but having black ones? So fucking badass, man. If I was an angel, I’d be envious of em.” 

Cas stares with wide eyes and a tilted head. After a moment, he shakes his head with a fond smile. “You never cease to confound me, Dean.” 

Dean scoffs in bemusement. “Thanks?”

“You're welcome.”

The pair settle into a comfortable silence. Cas’s wings had come to rest on the ground, the puffed-up feathers smoothing down for the first time in hours. Cas too, had slumped into a more relaxed posture, his half-lidded eyes taking in the countryside. Dean, who was leaning back on his hands, snuck glances at the impressive wings every so often, captivated by their beauty and obvious strength. Dean did not doubt that Cas could easily smack him like a baseball with one of those bad boys. Yet, he felt no fear near the strong appendages. Instead, he got a weird, intense urge to ask one thing. 

“Can I…?”

Cas turns to watch as Dean struggles to put his request into words, his mouth ticking up slightly in amusement as the human looks almost constipated. “Dean.” He says. 

The man meets his eyes instantly, his nerves written clearly in the pupils though his face doesn’t show it. It was how Cas learned to understand the Winchesters over the years, emotion was all in the eyes, not the face - it was a rather endearing trait for the boys. 

Wordlessly, Cas stretches out the wing closest to Dean, noticing the slight flinch in Dean’s posture as the appendage shows off its impressive size and build. One flap and Cas could send him tumbling down the hill, but he does no such thing. He holds it perfectly still and lets Dean register everything. Dean’s hands fidget on top of his knees, drawing Cas’s gaze to the shifting fingers. He smiles, despite his racing heart of exposing such a vulnerable thing to anyone who was not an angel. 

“You may touch them,” he reassures quietly.

Dean swings around almost comically to stare at him. “Really?” He flits his gaze to the wings again and then back to Castiel. “I thought you’d smite me if I tried to ask.” 

Cas gives a one-shouldered shrug and lets his smile soften towards the man. “I trust you,” he offers, his voice just as gentle as his expression. “Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone do so.”

Dean noticeably swallows, lips parted in bewilderment. But whatever he is going to say, it doesn't leave his lips. Instead, he closes his mouth and shifts to turn to the wall of feathers. A hand leaves his knees and slowly raises to the wing, fingers just grazing the outer plumage. He huffs in surprise, the silky surface sliding over his skin pleasantly. 

“Woah,” he mumbles, dragging his palm over the soft primaries. “Awesome.”

Cas has to fight back a shudder from the contact, though the slight tension in his brow catches Dean's attention. Immediately drawing back his hand in concern, he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers quickly, his wing already missing the warmth of Dean’s palm. “Like I said, it has been… a long time since anyone has touched my wings.”

“Oh. Do you want me to keep going?”

“That would be nice.”

Dean’s fingers return to the feathers, carefully raking through the thick primaries with a gentle and curious touch. With how Cas’s wing has stretched to practically wrap around and encompass Dean, he has easy access to the entire appendage. Cas hums appreciatively and rolls his shoulders, the ache in his back easing up finally. 

“Feel alright?” Dean double-checks. 

“It feels… quite relaxing, yes.” Cas folds his knees to his chest and drops his head onto his crossed arms. He watches lazily as Dean slowly explores the wing. He registers a slight pull on his coverts and chuckles a bit. “Just don’t tug any of the feathers out, Dean. It’s not molting season yet.”

“You guys molt?” Dean repeats in surprise, looking from the wing to Cas, eyebrows high as he searches the angel’s face for any sign of jest.

Cas nods. “Of course. It’s a yearly experience, we have to do it to have healthy wings.”

Dean scoffs, but it’s in disbelief, not malice. “Wow.” He mutters, returning his gaze to the feather-endowed appendages. “You guys really are like birds, huh?”

Cas rolls his eyes and lightly smacks Dean in the face with the wing, pushing down a grin when the man splutters and pushes away from the offending limb. He looks at Cas in annoyance.

“Sorry, sometimes I can’t control the movement,” Cas smiles innocently. “Instinctive flexing, it’s completely involuntary.” 

Dean scowls at him, but a smirk curls at his lip. “Dick,” he jabs light-heartedly. 

“Ass-butt,” Cas replies in kind, settling on his arms and grinning. 

Dean returns his focus to the wings before him and shifts his hand to rake through the feathers, smirking when he hears Cas hum again - it isn’t unlike petting a cat. The thought made Dean snicker, but Cas was too far gone in enjoyment to care. 

The steady combing through feathers settles Castiel’s tense spine and brow, letting himself enjoy the sensations wholeheartedly. The last time he’d had the joy of having his wings groomed was back when he was a servant of Heaven. The angels often help each other maintain their wings to perfection, making it a bonding activity of sorts. It was a pastime Cas didn’t think he’d ever have the honor of experiencing again. He smiles into his arms. Figures that he’d be able to relive it with the Winchesters. They always managed to find ways to make his life interesting in some way or another, whether it be a good surprise or not. This, however, was a surprise he liked. The prior, bitter resentment from the curse soothed into simple bliss. 

Dean’s fingers shift from combing through his primaries to his secondaries. The change makes Cas shift in place, the wing flexing a bit as the sensations sparked through the wing and down his spine. Dean paused at the reaction and glanced at the angel in surprise. 

He took in Castiel’s posture, once relaxed and easy, now weirdly tense. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a marginal scrunch that draws attention to them. His simple grin was replaced with a slightly wobbly smile. 

“Cas?” Dean asks worriedly, his eyes raking over the angel’s form in concern. “Are you good?”

“Y-Yes.” Cas’s answer was nowhere near as firm as his previous confirmation. If anything, Dean swore his voice sounded a touch higher pitched than normal. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Dean pressed. “I can stop if this is uncomfortable at all-”

Cas opens his eyes and Dean is surprised at the slight plead in his pupils. “Please don’t,” he almost begs. “I’ve missed this.” 

Lips parted in surprise, Dean digests those words. Cas looked… well shit, he looked like he was desperate for this. A weird pang cuts across Dean’s heart as a thought hits him. Is Cas touch starved? 

Getting himself together, Dean nods and sends the angel a reassuring smile. “Alright.” He concedes. “Just lemme know if anything is wrong, okay?”

Cas gives an answering nod, tucking himself back into his arms and stretching his wing out again. ‘Instinctive flexing’, Cas had mentioned before. Dean thought that Cas was joking, but maybe he actually was telling the truth. That would explain the sudden twitchiness, and after all, the angel had said he hadn’t had this kind of touch in a while. 

Questions satiated, Dean lifts his hand and combs one hand through secondary converts. Cas yelps, his wing ruffling and shoulders leaping to his ears as his whole body jolts. 

Dean wrenches his hand away in alarm and snaps towards the angel. “Cas-?” He demands, but then he registers Castiel, and all thoughts die in his head. 

Cas has his knuckles pressed to his lips as he snickers, light sounds that seem so unusual for the angel. The force of his grin is causing his eyes to squint. The sight leaves Dean speechless, feeling as if he’d been thrown into an ocean and left to tread the waters with no help. Then, once the shock subsides, the puzzle pieces click into place and it's as if a lightbulb gets turned on above his head.

“No.” He mutters, his anxiety replaced with a sudden building elation. His grin builds on his face, “No way.” 

Cas, who finally managed to settle the small titters leaving his lips, glances over at Dean with an endearingly confused face. “Uh, I don’t… I’m sorry, I'm not sure what that-”

Dean’s hand sweeps out to bury into the secondary coverts again, and Cas yelps for a second time, tumbling backward in his haste to evade the sudden tingling invading his senses. “Gah- De-Dehehean!” He chokes out through a series of tumbling chuckles, a hand lifting to his mouth again to muffle the noise. 

Dean laughs, loud and excited. “You have got to be kidding me!” He grins, his hands chasing the wings down to the ground and scratching into the fluffy feathers. “You’re ticklish?!” 

Cas wriggles from his spot on the grass, hiccups peppering between his startled laughter. “Dehehehean! Whahahat ahahare yohohou- AHAHAHA!” 

Cas’s own words are lost to his mirth, his body trying to curl into a ball while his wings stay splayed out - eager for attention while the host of said wings squirmed uncontrollably. Dean snickers from where he’s settled beside Cas’s wing, his other hand coming up to hold the top of the appendage while the other sneaks in to tickle the feathers. 

“Who would’ve thought, huh?” He grins, “Castiel has ticklish wings. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh this much, man.”

Cas’s arms don’t know what to do with themselves - the rapid electric tingles shooting through his body render him useless and flailing. He grabs onto his forearms and kicks uselessly at the grass, throwing his head back as laughter escapes his mouth. 

“Dehehehean!” He presses out, his eyes squeezed shut instinctively. 

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Whahahat ihihis thihihis?”  

Dean snorts, mostly in surprise. “You’ve never been tickled before?” 

Cas shakes his head rapidly, too caught up in his mirth to give a verbal reply. Dean, seeing that Cas is struggling for air, eases up on the sensitive coverts and settles back into tickling along the secondaries and primaries. 

“Basically, you’ve got sensitive wings,” Dean explains. “Being ticklish is pretty common for humans, it’s our nervous system that makes it possible. Sammy can give you the whole scientific spiel of it if you want. My version, though? Touching the body in a certain way makes someone laugh, it’s a way to mess with people and a way to bond. God knows I tickled Sam so much growing up. He still gets these nervous giggles when people wiggle their fingers at him.” 

Dean shakes his head fondly as he speaks and scratches along the bone of the wing. Cas suddenly bucks with a loud squeal, crashing back into the grass and giggling hysterically. Castiel was giggling. Dean’s grin widened at the sound though his eyes softened. It was rare when he got even a chuckle out of Cas, this was a whole dang gift basket in itself. 

“THIHIhihihis feheheels sohoho strahahange!” Cas manages to get out, his cheeks growing pink from his ongoing laughter, and the subconscious embarrassment of letting out such an unnatural sound for an angel. 

Dean wiggles two fingers into the bend of the wing with a look at his friend. “Good strange or bad strange?”

Cas squeaks in laughter, his hiccupping giggles coming back full force. “Ihihit feheheels nihihice? Buhuhut Ihihi cahahdn’t stohohop mohoving-” Dean’s fingers skim a particularly sensitive spot, causing Cas to roll onto his side, proving his own words.

Dean snickers. “Yeah, that’s normal. The usual reaction is to try and get away….” The rest of Castiel’s words clicked in Dean’s head. “Wait, are you saying you like this?” 

Cas rolls back over and looks up at Dean through his eyelashes. ‘Ihihis thahat wrohong?” He asks through tumbling giggles. 

Dean bites his tongue to stop his mouth from possibly making a fool of himself, but he can’t stop the endeared smile that spreads on his face. “Nah,” he reassures when he’s sure he’s got his emotions under lock again. He tweaks the sensitive spot on the bone just to hear Cas squeal again. “It’s not wrong, Cas.”

Questions answered, Cas lets his head fall back and simply laughs, his chest feeling lighter than it had in, well, ever. The tickling shifted from light skittering, to gentle scratching - Dean’s hand making its way across the sensitive areas. When he dropped to test the scapular of Cas’s wing, Castiel shrieked. 

The sudden jump of octaves made Dean jolt in surprise, but he burst out laughing not a moment later as he watched Cas squirm and laugh twice as hard as before. “Christ on a stick, Cas!” He chuckles warmly. “Gonna scare off all the birds round here.”

Cas twists on the grass and holds his arms tightly, though one of them does let go to swipe in Dean’s direction, nowhere near close, however. “DEHEHEHEAN!” 

Dean opens his mouth to answer when something soft brushes the exposed skin of his ankle from where his pant legs have risen. Turning to look down, Dean’s mouth slips open in shock. A little red flower, which was most definitely not there before, waves its petals in the light breeze. Dean glances around, and to his surprise, there’s a series of small flowers budding and growing around the pair of them, a mix of reds and pinks. Dean’s fingers have slowed to gentle tracing on Castiel’s scapulars, distracted by the small garden of flowers blooming. It’s a rather captivating sight, watching the flowers press through the grass to stand proudly in the sunlight, perfect and pristine to every petal.

Cas meanwhile, is being kept in a giggly form of purgatory of precise, tickling fingers. And as much as he’s enjoying the attention, he needs a break from that spot before he accidentally smites someone - namely Dean. 

“D-Dehehean!” he gasps out again, “P-Plehehease!” 

Snapped out of his stupor, Dean pauses in his wiggling motions, looking back to the angel who slumps into the flower-dotted grass with a giggly sigh of relief. The red flowers match his flushed face, leaning towards Cas from their angle of growth. Dean can’t help but stare. 

After giving his friend a chance to recover, Dean clears his throat. “Cas?” He asks quietly. 

A soft, warm hum leaves Castiel as he calms down, eyelashes fluttering open to look at Dean. “Mhm?” 

Dean glances at the grass. “Did you… did you make these?” 

The angel’s eyebrow lifts in confusion, turning his head to the side to where Dean is looking. “Oh.” He practically chirps in surprise. He sits up on his forearms, glancing around the field where flowers have sprouted. “Ah, yes, I think I did.” His wings rise carefully from the grass to reveal a series of little yellow flowers hidden underneath the feathers. 

Dean’s eyebrows lift to his hair as he takes in the whole field of color. “What are they? I didn’t know you could miracle flowers out of thin air.”

Cas carefully plucks one of the yellow ones off the grass and holds it up to his face to inspect. “I have not made them since I was a fledgling,” he mused, turning the stalk in his fingers idly. “They are buttercups.”

Dean watches as Cas is captivated by the small plant in his fingers. He leans forward slightly to look at it closer, cocking his head to the side curiously. “Why’d you decide to pull out the green thumb again?” 

Cas glances up and gives Dean a small, shy smile. “It was subconscious, I believe,” he murmured. “I haven’t felt this relaxed or happy in a long time. I suppose the flowers are a byproduct of my emotions, flowers do have meanings after all.”

Dean’s heart ached for the angel. He turned to look around again and admired the patches of petals. “Well, I think you made a fine batch of buttercups,” he commented. “Maybe you can grow a few different kinds of flowers around the Bunker. The lawn looks pretty sad, so some flowers would do it good.”

Cas’s face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. “Really?” he asked, “you would like that?”

Dean gives a one-shouldered shrug and lets his smile soften toward the angel. “I trust your florist talents,” he says. “Besides, I think Sam would like it too.”

Cas grins, wide and warm. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah, of course, man. If it makes you happy then-”

“Not just for that,” Cas cuts him off, his smile slipping back into shyness. “About… before. While this whole 'tickling' thing is new to me, I haven’t laughed like that in a while, and the wing grooming was appreciated too. So, thank you for that. It meant a lot.”

Dean is left speechless for what feels like the sixth time that day. He takes in Castiel’s genuine smile and relaxed form, his blue eyes brighter than his angelic glow could hope to achieve. Dean finds himself grinning, soft and sincere. 

“Anytime Cas.”