YOUR LEE ENMU FIC WAS AMAZING AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH IT WAS WONDERFUL
I gotta ask,,,, if you're up for it, could you write something with ler!Douma and lee!Akaza cuz I just know Douma is a master tickle monster and poor Akaza is so ticklish sosjjsjdhdbd thank u in advance *smooches on the cheek*
Cracks
summary: It's not often that there's room for fooling around and goofing off amongst Lord Muzan's elite troup, but every now and then, Douma likes to have a little fun. Every now and then, Akaza likes to indulge him.
an: this took me way too long and i'm really really sorry about that - i hope you like it anyway and you had wonderful holidays!
wordcount: 1705
taglist: @giggly-squiggily, @rachi-roo
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Douma was not easily entertained. Most of the things the average person would deem exciting were prone to boring him to death and more often than not he found himself zoning out during the most random times, because he was surrounded by such a lack of stimulation that it was truly astounding all by itself.
However, there were a few things that were amusing to him. Humans could be very entertaining from time to time; desperate humans and scared humans were his favorite kind. Waterfalls, waterfalls were really pretty. Bumblebees. The sheer concept of bumblebees was hysterical. His very favorite thing in the entire world though was cracking. Cracking horrible jokes. Cracking heads. Cracking his fellow Upper Moons.
Well, not all of them. There was a huge difference between making someone crack and making someone crumble, that difference mainly being who he was working with.
For example, making Kokushibo crack wasnʼt as fun as making him crumble. Kokushibo was stoic, emotionless and reserved. Seeing him explode into anger, laughter, tears, or anything of the like all of a sudden was interesting, sure, but it wasn’t fun because the buildup was too subtle to notice (even for Douma). But if you made him crumble, the slow process of Kokushibo’s walls being brought down became visible - bit by bit, brick by brick.
And then, there was the other end of the spectrum.
Douma almost felt giddy with excitement as he shuffled around in his place, watching the door with impatience. Any minute now, any minute… aha!
“Urgh, what are you doing here?” Akaza rolled his eyes the second they met Douma’s gaze, but Upper Moon Two didn’t waste any time feeling attacked by that. Within the blink of an eye he was at the shorter demon’s side, throwing an arm around his shoulders and putting his entire weight onto him. He knew Akaza could handle it, he just wanted to invade his personal space a little. Invading the personal space of others was another thing that made immortality worthwhile.
“Why, I’m here for the meeting of course. We’re both early birds today, aren’t we?”
“Do not call me that.”
Oh oh oh, Akaza was playing grumpy again. Emphasis on playing; if he were truly not in the mood for shenanigans, he would’ve pushed him away by now, or taken his head off at the very least. Douma smirked. He had a playful Akaza on his hands, what a lucky lucky day it was.
“What do you want me to call you then?”
If looks could kill… well, he’d be no more dead than before, but Akaza was certainly trying his best. Adorable.
“If you could just stop talking to me, that would be great, thanks.”
What a perfect setup. It was almost like Akaza wanted this to happen.
“Alright, let’s stop talking.”
A thing that only very very few people knew: Akaza was not immune to tomfoolery. Douma had caught him goofing around with Rui, Kaigaku and even Daki and Gyutaro several times and on rare occasions, he had even indulged in Douma’s own jabs and jokes instead of blowing up immediately.
Because blowing up, yes, that was what Akaza was known for the most amongst them, wasn’t it. And watching him blow up was charming, sure, but what Douma loved most was the thing right before the big explosion. That moment of realization when Akaza became aware of the incoming explosion and tried to stop it. The way he gave everything to not let it happen and the way it was never enough. Delicious.
Akaza flinched and his hands shot down to grab Douma’s wrists. “Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything, Akaza-dono.” It wasn’t even a lie. Alright, maybe he had curled his fingers into the lower ranked demon’s waist just a moment ago, but right now he wasn’t doing anything. Just resting his fingers on Akaza’s sides. And despite the vice grip on his wrists, they weren’t being pulled off. Hm-hm.
A full body spasm nearly had Upper Three slip away from him when he curled his fingers again, but Douma was very skilled in using a lot of strength and making it look like nothing. In other words, holding Akaza secure with just his fingers had the added fun bonus of infuriating him. “Douma, if you don’t stop that-”
“Stop what? You’ll need to be more specific- oh, this?” He smirked when a soft yelp slipped out of Akaza’s mouth. “Surely that’s nothing to you, Akaza-dono. I’m just stretching my hands.”
Douma carefully increased the pressure of his fingers digging into the pale flesh of his subordinate. Even though Akaza was facing away from him, his back pressed against Douma’s chest with no way to hide his trembles and flinches, Douma had a good idea what his expression looked like. He could see Akaza’s flushed neck and ears, the way he bit his cheek. And now, he just had to-
“EAH!”
Ah, yes, there it was. The crack. Akaza had such a temper, cracking him with a few cleverly, and even not so cleverly, placed comments was easy. But it also got boring very quickly and besides, this was by far the best way to make him crack.
Douma smirked to himself as he clawed on one of his very favorite spots on Akaza’s body. Stomach never disappoints… “What is it, Akaza-dono? Too ticklish?”
“YOHOU KNOW IHIT IS- DOUMAHAHAH!”
Hell yeah he knew that. Upper Two allowed himself to giggle in glee - not that Akaza could hear him with his booming laughter filling the Infinity Castle. He wrapped an arm around the smaller demon’s torso when his struggling got too intense to hold back with just his fingers and used his free hand to continue the tickling of his stomach. Delightful.
“DOHOHOUMAHAHAHAHAH, NAHAHAHAT- TOO MUHUHUHUCH!”
“Alright, alright.” Douma carefully guided the hysterical demon to the ground when his knees got weak and took a seat on his thighs to secure him, then he immediately latched his wiggling fingers onto Akaza’s ribs so he wouldn’t get a chance to recover and slip away. The reaction was instant.
“Yohohou piece ohof- nahahahah!”
“Oh but you can handle it, can’t you?” Douma grinned down at his victim’s flushed face, making sure to give the spaces in between his ribs extra attention. Once the cracking was complete, once the dam had broken, it was nearly impossible for Akaza to compose himself or hold himself back in any way.
That applied to movement as well. Douma let out a grunt when he got kneed in the back; he actually had to put in effort to hold Akaza down, that wasn’t often the case. Maybe his tickling was just especially good today. Judging by the way Akaza was howling when he moved his hands upwards to scratch at the space between his ribs and armpits, that was the case.
“Nahahahahat thehehehere! Yohou ahahahahass!”
“I don’t think you want to insult me right now.” Douma smirked and grabbed one of Akaza’s wrists, surprising him enough to pull it up and dig into his armpit. “I know thinking can be a hard thing to do for you, but that’s really not smart.”
Akaza shrieked and nearly threw Douma off with how hard he was bucking. “GEAHAHAHAH- GEHEHEHEHET OHOUT OF THEHEHEHERE! NAHAHAHAT THERE, DOHOUMAHAHAHAH!”
“Man, you���re really difficult today.” Douma mock-sighed and stayed at the spot a little longer before scribbling Akaza’s stomach and quickly moved on to squeeze his hips instead when the trapped demon let out a sound close to a sob. “Not here, not there… how about here?”
The hips still had Akaza giggling like crazy, but he was not nearly as hysterical as he had been before. Douma couldn’t help but smile a bit. “You look nice like this, Akaza-dono. With your face so flushed.”
The blush only intensified and Akaza even tried to hide his face - unsuccessful. “Sh-shuhuhut uhu- EEK!”
“Was that a squeak?” Douma let out an evil chuckle. “Then I guess that’s my sign.”
“Yohour sign to wha- Douma, no, nononono, do nAHAHAHAHAH- DOUMAHAHAHAHAH, FUHUHUHUCKIHING HEHEHELL!” Hysterical couldn’t even begin to describe it. Akaza threw his head back, cackling and howling and squealing all at once, even a snort breaking throw here and there; his back arched and he twisted around to try and avoid the horribly ticklish fingers scribbling over his stripes with the lightness of a feather.
Upper Two smirked - he was barely touching Akaza, yet had him in stitches anyway. He had been avoiding the tattoos, these absolute platinum tickle spots on his subordinate’s already sensitive body, as much as possible to save the best for last. And the best it truly was. He watched in awe how tears of laughter spilled down Akaza’s flushed cheeks. That meant he would soon-
“DOHOHOUMAHAHAHAH, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!”
Yup, there it was. Playful or not, if he started begging it meant that Akaza had truly reached his limits. Douma gave the stripe he was tormenting one last scratch, then he took his hands off and stood up, giving him some space to recover.
Being a demon and all, that recovery only took Akaza about two seconds and Douma couldn’t even react when the smaller demon jumped up and pounced on him, glaring down at him from where he was crouched on Douma’s chest. “You!”
“Me?” Upper Two didn’t let the sudden attack wash off his smile. It was a genuine smile for once - this little encounter had significantly heightened his mood and despite the scowl on Akaza’s face, he could tell he felt the same.
The sound of Nakime’s biwa in the distance and the following bickering of two voices from next door notified them of the arrival of Daki and Gyutaro and Akaza seemed to consider his next move for a moment, then he snarled and got up. “I’ll get you back, jerk.”
Douma only grinned at the threat and sat up when the siblings entered the room so as to not tip them off that something unusual had happened. If he was feeling a little excited at the prospect of more goofing around with Akaza, that was their business alone, and if he caught Akaza cracking a smile as he turned away, no one needed to know.
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50. Writer's preference - "And what if it is not you?"
The barb stung and Arthur turned away as quickly as if she had struck him.
These walks had become something of a tradition between the Prince and former Princess over the rolling weeks. With the out of doors near unpassable, Arthur's mornings had shifted to a shorter indoor practice before dawn, followed by a brief repast and then a stroll through the Orangery with the Lady Aria. Though they still argued as often as they didn't, there was something free and flowing in these conversations -- a strange sense that no subject was off limits...And that every single one was somehow taboo. It was perhaps true that they had each been raised as royalty, but it seemed their worlds could not have been more different.
Today, the subject had fallen to that all-encompassing theme of his life, the most pressing topic in the empire, and the one least likely ever to be openly addressed: Roderick's line of succession. It was an ache in his gut, this, a hill he had run up all his childhood only to find a sheer rockface confronting him. Now, scrambling for footholds in the brutal cliffside, it was a race to the top against those he loved most -- a climb now far too high to risk the drop. It was success or the death of all meaning. But what was he to do? Throw his siblings from the sides? They too held on by meager fingertips and he could not bear to think of them dashed against the teeth of the unforgiving stone so far below.
Arthur's jaw clenched. He kept her pace, but he no longer looked at her as she spoke; heard her only as if from a great distance. What was there to say? Yet, her last words burned, searing like vinegar in his cuts, and he turned sharply towards her, a rush sounding in his head.
"What? You favor someone else?" he demanded, all effort at bluster or calm stripped away. Surprise seemed to register in his face and, pressing his eyes shut, he shook his head, realizing she meant this only as rhetoric and, with a look of defeat, he sighed; shook his head. "How should I know? It would be the end for me."
He didn't look at her, now, gaze straying upwards towards the gently nodding trees, branches heavy and sagging with fruit. He thought of the tart-sweet of them, tawny and opening with a kind of crack. Fibrous chambers of juice attended the tiny seeds at the center and this, then, was life. Even trees limned their children with sweet cushions against the harsh reality of the world around them. When he laughed, it was a bitter sound.
Sighing, Arthur shook his head. "Aria, I--" but he stopped. He'd not said her name so baldly before and he gestured, helpless, voice trapped within his throat.
Her eyes were dark: not mere chocolate, but something else as if the sea had leaked into them and tossed against stormy shores within her mind. Her face was set, but he could not read it. He searched for something written there, something designed for him to read: he wanted it. He knew the message he wished to read. A very simple message. He wanted to read it again and again, see it roiling within the storm of her eyes. But there was nothing. She was no harbor. She was, perhaps, another deathly drop.
Aria lifted her chin. "Go on."
"I don't know what will happen if my father chooses someone else any more than you do. But I do know I will be a threat to whoever is chosen, simply for having been in the running, and..."
And if it were Edmund who were selected, whom Arthur regarded as the most likely alternative, he would not expect to long outlive his father -- or even his father's choice. Enemies of the House of Calainon had a way of disappearing. Arthur was not altogether certain they even lifted a finger: they were witches, after all. Likely, all they needed do was wish for a thing, and their dark magic did the rest. Edmund might not wish him gone, perhaps...but Amira would not hesitate. He could not help but think that would make for a horrible ending, all the demons of hell rising at her command. His would be a silent end, he had no doubt, yet he knew, too, that if it were by Amira's hand, he would die howling.
If Aria had said something else, Arthur had not heard it. At last, she said: "And what if the Emperor doesn't choose? What happens to us all, then?"
Arthur stopped short, and Aria beside him. "Then it'd be war."
He walked out without another word.
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