#ticklish!walter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelatmidnight1 · 3 years

Note

fuse as a lee PLEASE!! it’s too cute 😆😆

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

After a particularly bombastic match, Fuse treats himself to a cold beer, a grilled steak, and a well-deserved nap. Walter enjoys a good R and R session after a little mayhem, and today is no different. However, instead of enjoying that nap, a rather mischievous Legend crosses his path, and his name is Octavio Silva. It’s too tempting not to prank Walter as he slumbers, and the poor man is down for the count. Rampart joins him in the mischief and, much to his surprise, they discover that the explosives enthusiast is ticklish. Now, it’s time for the real fun to begin!

“Ahhh, that’s the stuff…”

Walter murmured aloud after he’d downed the rest of his beer. It’d been a long and trying day in the Apex Games; his squad never seemed to catch a break, and many of the fights just barely went in his favor. If it hadn’t been for the extra grenades in his pockets or picking the right time to drop his Mother Lode, the championship would’ve gone to someone else. But, alas, he and his squad managed to pull through and claim the crown for themselves. It was an exciting game, no doubt about it, and those were the kind of games ole Fusey couldn’t get enough of. They reminded him of being back on Salvo, back in the Bonecage, where he put many a bloke to sleep with his fists. He was in the prime of his life then and, like a fine wine, he only got better with age. Of course, he couldn’t spend all of his time raising hell, and there was nothing better than a cold beer and a grilled steak after a hard day. He was even lucky enough to have the entire common room to himself, since the rest of the Legends were all scattered throughout the dropship. After putting the empty bottle down on the table, the explosives enthusiast stretched out onto the couch. He decided to take off his metal arm to get more comfortable and put it next to the discarded bottle. Then, the tiredness finally catching up to him, Walter closed his eyes and dozed off shortly after.

What Fuse didn’t know was that Octavio was actually within the vicinity, wandering throughout the halls without anything to do. Normally, he would be hanging with Ajay or pulling off some sick stunts in his Gauntlet. Ajay, however, was busy working in the med bay and didn’t have time to deal with her hyperactive friend. And his Gauntlet, much to his dismay, was closed down for maintenance along with the entirety of King’s Canyon. The speedster never liked rules and tried to sneak in anyway, but he was caught and received a stern warning from the Games’ admins. Octane muttered some Spanish curses under his breath as he wandered into the common room. Maybe, he thought, he could put those thermites that he swiped on his way out to good use. He noticed Fuse on the couch and speeded over to him, grinning. If he was going to do anything with grenades, he’d definitely want the explosives enthusiast’s on his side. Since he was approaching from behind, he didn’t notice that the old man was sound asleep.

“Hey, amigo! I saw your last game, you were awesome!” he complimented. He climbed over the couch and plopped beside him. “You gotta show me how you pulled off that stick with the arc star. A collateral like that would look sick on my feed.”

When Walter didn’t respond, he arched a brow and turned to him. The explosives enthusiast was slightly slouched over, fast asleep, with his good arm draped over his stomach. Octavio blinked and leaned in to poke his shoulder, but he didn’t stir. The gears in his head turned and he grinned widely behind his mask. If he wasn’t able to pull some stunts or hang out with Ajay, he decided that he’d do something just as fun: pull a prank.

It took about ten minutes, but Octavio managed to dig up a can of shaving cream and a feather for a classic prank. He gave the room a quick once over to make sure no one was around to either distract him or wake the older man up. When he was certain that the coast was clear, he popped open the can and tipped over to Fuse. He slowly grabbed his hand and pried it off of his stomach so he could turn it over with the palm facing up. Every now and then he paused, looking for any signs that he might be waking up, but he didn’t give any. Lucky for Octavio, it seemed like Walter was a heavy sleeper. Octavio put a handful of shaving cream in the man’s palm and chuckled excitedly. Sure, this was a popular prank, but it was still funny.

Oh man, mis amigos are gonna love this.

Octane put the can down and put the feather between his index finger and thumb. He stepped closer to Fuse and took a breath, quickly fluttering it against his right cheek. At first, he didn’t give a reaction. But after a second try, Walter scrunched his nose and turned his head away. The speedster repeated the motion, flicking the feather back and forth, but the older man would just scrunch up his face and squirm away. There were a couple of times where it looked like Fuse was going to use his hand to brush his face, but he kept putting it down at the last minute, earning a groan from Octavio.

“Come on, just a lil bit higher…” he murmured, deciding to switch to his left cheek and increase his efforts. Footfalls sounded off behind the daredevil, but he didn’t notice, so the curious individual was able to walk up right beside him.

“Oi, what’cha doin’?” Came Rampart’s loud voice, which startled Octavio. His head snapped towards hers and he brought a finger to his lips.

“Shh! I’m trying to prank dormilón (sleepyhead) over here,” he whispered, gesturing to the shaving cream with the feather. “So don’t wake him up.”

Ramya’s eyebrows rose and she sat down at the opposite side of Walter. “Gramps is down for the count, huh? Guess he ain’t all that spry after all.” she snickered. She craned her head over to see the shaving cream in his hand and smirked. “Ooo, that’s a classic prank right there. Want some help? Bet I could dig up some markers.”

Octavio shook his head and waved her off with his free hand. “Nah, I’m good. Just need him to itch his face.” He explained, poking the feather into Fuse’s left cheek at random intervals. Walter stirred and grumbled, making the speedster retract his hand. It looked like he was going to wake up but, thankfully, he calmed back down and returned to sleep. Rampart rolled her eyes, leaning over Fuse to take the feather from Octavio.

“You’re doin’ it wrong. Watch.” The modder instructed, wiggling the feather against Fuse’s nose. Walter grumbled again and turned his face away, but Ramya was persistent. She propped herself up on her knees and crawled closer to him. She leaned forward, flicking the plume against his nose again. She balanced herself with her hand against his side, unconsciously gripping it when he fidgeted. Walter twitched and exhaled sharply through his nose. He leaned away from the invasive touch, this time curling against the arm of the couch, and sighed deeply. Ramya blinked and glanced over at Octavio. The speedster met her gaze and inched closer to Fuse, cocking his head to the side.

“Is he…?” Octane curiously poked at Walter’s ribcage, earning a grunt and a quiet, yet undeniable chuckle. The speedster’s eyes lit up with mischief and he grinned at his accomplice. “Mira, looks like tough guy’s ticklish.”

Ramya matched his grin and she walked two fingers along his side. Fuse squirmed and pushed himself further into the couch’s arm. He chuckled and murmured something indecipherable, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. “I think you’re onto somethin’, mate.” The modder answered, crossing over his stomach to repeat the same motion on his other side. “Never thought I’d meet a ticklish Salvonian. Now I’ve seen it all.”

Octane and Rampart’s poking and prodding stirred ole Fusey out of his nap, albeit slowly. What started off as quiet grunts and chuckles evolved into prominent giggles as the duo increased their efforts. By the time Walter was somewhat conscious, his nerves buzzed with the ticklish sensations, and he jolted awake.

“AH! Whahat---oh, it’s just you lot.” Walter breathed a sigh of relief, unaware of the situation that he’d found himself in. He was still groggy from being disturbed from his nap. “You pups need somethin’? Or can this old dog go back to--”

He paused, feeling something foamy in his hand. He glanced at his palm and his eyebrows furrowed. “The hell? What’s this doing in my hand?”

Walter shook the stuff off of him. He noticed the feather in Ramya’s hand and smirked, putting two and two together. “Oh, thought you could prank ole Fusey, did ya?”

“He did,” Rampart nodded to Octavio, earning a glare from the speedster. “But he’s a bloody amateur. Guess it’s for the best though, otherwise we wouldn’t know how ticklish you are.”

Fuse gave her a bewildered look. “What?” he spat, yelping when Octane jabbed him in the side. “Hey, knock it off!”

Octavio chuckled. “Didn’t peg you as the ticklish type, amigo. That must suck for you.” He teased, aiming another poke at his stomach. Walter batted him away with his good hand and scoffed.

“I reckon everyone’s ticklish to some extent, mate. What of it?” The explosives enthusiast responded, only to have the realization hit him seconds later. He was sandwiched between two of the most mischievous Legends in the Apex Games, and he’d taken off the only thing keeping him from being the target of their mischief: his metal arm. Granted, the metallic limb wasn’t that far away from where he was, but one of the pups had agility on his side. Walter’s had worse odds though, so he lurched forward to grab it.

Like clockwork, the two younger Legends jumped into action. Octane grabbed Walter’s arm and pulled him backwards, causing him to yelp. Ramya was quick to get up and push the table holding the metal arm further away from where they were. Somehow, Fuse managed to free himself of the speedster's hold and stand up.

“Yeah nah, you lot can have the bloody couch. I’m going to enjohohohy myhyhy--ah! Stohohop!”

While Walter was distracted, Rampart snuck up behind him and poked at his sides. The explosives enthusiast sputtered and snickered, turning to fend her off next. This gave Octavio the opportunity to seize his arm and pull him back on the couch. Fuse yelled again and tried to push him back, but it was difficult to do with one arm. The ticklish pokes were only making it that much harder. So, although Walter outmatched both of the Legends in terms of physical strength, Octane was able to get him down and hold his arm above his head.

“Hurry, chica! Get his legs and I’ll keep his arm down.” The speedster called over his shoulder, adding to the tickle attack by scratching along Walter's stomach. Fuse arched his back and fell into a deeper pool of laughter.

“Nohohoho! Blohohohoody hehehell, gehehehet ohohohff mehehehe!” Walter protested, struggling to propel himself upwards by digging his heels into the couch. Ramya grinned and straddled the man’s waist, effectively pinning him down.

“Aw, ya ain’t afraid of a little tickling, are ya mate?” The modder teased, digging her wiggling fingers into his sides. Fuse laughed even louder and twisted his torso side to side.

“I ahahahain’t afrahahahahid of ahahahnytHIHIHIHNG!” He fired back, his laughter jumping in pitch when Octavio poked into the sides of his stomach. The speedster was positioned above his head, holding his arm down with his knee, and grinning widely. He opted for using his thumbs to drill into the spot, snickering when he bucked his hips and swore.

“Oh yeah? Then tell us where you’re most ticklish.” He challenged, smirking when Fuse’s head snapped up to him.

“WHAHAHAHAT?”

Octavio laughed. “You heard me! Tell us where your worst spot is, and we’ll leave you alone.” He repeated, using all of his nails to torment Fuse’s stomach.

“Maybe.” Ramya chimed in, finding his hip bones and giving them some quick squeezes. The old man yelled and swore again as he tried to buck her off of him. He didn’t want to accidentally send her flying across the room, but he hadn’t been tickled since his younger days, and he’d forgotten just how ticklish he really was. Granted, most people he came across didn’t want to tickle a man who had a metal arm and wielded explosives, but these two pups weren’t deterred at all.

Walter’s laughter was only getting louder the more they tickled him. Octavio had gotten bored of sticking to one spot and started poking at his ribcage. He arched his back and cackled; his ribs were a very ticklish spot, coming just shy of being his worst one. For a moment, he considered telling the pups where that spot was, if it meant they’d stop pestering him. But, the thought was gone almost as soon as it came up. If Ole Fusey was anything, he was certainly stubborn.

“NOHOHOHOHO!” He yelled, bucking his hips again when the speedster increased his efforts. “COHOHOHME OHOHN! YOHOHOHU’VE HAHAHAD YOHOHOHUR FUHUHUN!”

Ramya scoffed and reached behind her to squeeze his knee. He responded by yelping and drumming his leg against the couch cushions. “I thought you said you weren’t scared,” she simpered, her nails dancing along the top of his knee and underneath it. “It must be a really bad spot if ya ain’t gonna tell us. Which isn’t the best idea, cause we’ll find out eventually.”

Fuse tugged as hard as he could at his pinned arm, trying to wench it free, but the speedster held strong. He laughed harder the higher up Octavio tickled, throwing his body around. Octane was trying to gage which ribs were the most sensitive; he raked his nails against the bones at a rapid pace and scribbled at the spaces between them. So far, they all seemed equal in sensitivity, but the speedster wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY WAHAHAIT!” Fuse screeched when the speedster lingered on his two centermost ribs. The younger Legends perked up, slowing the tickling down just enough to keep the poor man giggling.

“Yeah? Got something to say?” Octavio asked, rhythmically tapping against the fleshy part beneath his ribcage. Walter gasped and lost himself in heavy giggles before he was able to put some words together.

“Lehehehet’s….lehehehet’s mahahahke ahahaha deahahahal…” he tittered. Maybe while he bargained with them, he could keep them distracted long enough to pull his arm free. “Lehehehet mehehe up, let me get back to me nap. And I’ll tehehll ya whahat you wanna knohow after.”

Rampart arched a skeptic brow and gently skittered her fingertips over his stomach. Fuse flinched and sucked in his stomach, prompting the modder to apply a little more pressure. “How do we know ya won’t cut tail and run the second we let you go?”

“I wohohohn’t! Yohohur mahahate wohohould cahahatch up to mehehe! Cohohme ohohn…” Walter snickered when Ramya switched from the gentle touches to deliberate scratching. “Leheheht mehehe gohoho!”

Rampart looked up at Octavio while she circled one nail around the man’s navel. “I dunno...whaddaya think, mate? Should we let him go?”

Octane withdrew his hands and pretended to ponder the request. He was having fun; no, he was having a blast, and he wasn’t ready to stop any time soon! Fuse was one of the last people he’d ever thought to be ticklish, and he didn’t think this opportunity would present itself again. He gave the old man a brief moment to breathe before he dropped his hands back onto his ribcage. He prodded at the fleshy part beneath the ribcage and worked his way up the bones, earning a scream and loud fit of laughter. “Psh, no way! This is the least bored I’ve been all day.” He piped, laughing when Walter tried to roll away from him again.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO YOHUHUHU BLOHOHOHOODY DROHOHONGOHOHO!” Fuse screamed and writhed when Octavio kneaded back into his centermost ribs. Ramya giggled and reached underneath his shirt, scribbling her fingertips against his bare sides and tummy. This prompted another scream and an even louder burst of laughter. “STAHAHAHAP TIHIHIHCKLING MEHEHE!”

“Nah, sorry mate. He’s my partner in crime, can’t let him down.” The modder quipped, gently pinching both sides of his abdomen. Walter almost threw her off of his waist and shook with raucous laughter.

“BAHAHAHAHA! I’LL KIHIHILL YAHAHA BOHOHOHTH! I SWEHEHEHEHAR!”

The younger Legends were laughing almost as hard as he was and they picked up the tickling pace. “Ooo, I’m so scared.” Ramya snickered, circling her nails back around the man’s navel. Walter snorted and furiously kicked a pillow, sending it flying across the room. Octane momentarily stopped tickling him and threw his head back with laughter.

“Sí, you sound terrifying right now.” He added, smirking. He tickled up higher still, reaching his uppermost ribs, and scritched at them at a rapid pace.

Now, Walter wasn’t someone who was easily frightened, but the panic set in once the speedster attacked those ribs. He violently thrashed around with his laughter bordering on hysterics. If Octavio tickled any higher, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“AHAHAHAHAHAH STHAHAHAHP! EHENOHOUGH ALREHEHEADY!” Fuse demanded through heavy fits of laughter. He arched his back when he alternated between the two ribs, rocking from one side to the other to try and avoid the tickles. His stubbornness was hanging by a thread now; maybe it would've been better for him to just come clean? Little did Walter know, neither Octane or Rampart were going to be as easily swayed now.

“Nope! You had your chance. And it looks like I found a good spot here.” The speedster answered with a grin, moving back down his rib cage to tickle each rib individually. Walter threw his head back and kicked another pillow off of the couch, his laughter taking on a desperate note. “Probably your worst one, right?”

Fuse frantically nodded. “YEHEHEHEHEHEHES! IHIHIHIHIHT IHIHIHIS! SOHOHO STOHOHOP!” He shouted, practically splitting his sides when he gently pinched the centermost ribs. His laughter took on different pitches depending on where Octavio tickled; poking beneath the rib cage made him giggle uncontrollably, tickling along the ribs themselves made him scream and roar with laughter. Rampart looked up at the two of them; she noticed that the higher up he tickled, the more the explosives enthusiast struggled. She grinned, reaching up to join Octane in tormenting his ribs by poking at his lowermost ones.

“You get his armpits yet? I think you’d wanna be thorough.” She offered, her grin widening when Fuse glared at her...or at least tried to. There was no way she could take him seriously with how hard he was laughing.

Octane glanced at her and chuckled. “No, don’t think I have. Are your armpits ticklish too, amigo?” He asked, slowly poking back up the man’s rib cage. He felt Walter stiffen and he beamed behind his mask.

“N-Nohohohoho! Thehehey’re nohohohot!” He lied; the unfamiliar feeling of panic eating at his nerves increased the closer his nails got to his armpits. Did ole Fusey’s voice crack when he told this lie? No, it didn’t! And he’d deny it for as long as it could...but that would just be another lie.

“No? Bummer.” Octavio bit back a smirk and sighed, leaving his hands resting on the top of the rib cage, just underneath where his armpits started. Ramya halted her tickling too and gave the speedster a questioning look. If he hadn’t been wearing the mask, she’d be able to see that mischief in his eyes was still going strong. Even Fuse, who was grateful for the break, was a tiny bit skeptical. He glanced at his hands and then at the kid’s face, breathing heavily. Was he really going to let him go, just like that?

Well, the short answer was no.

“Guess I’ll just have to forget about it and go see i--SIKE!”

Without warning, Octane buried his hands in Fuse’s armpits and wiggled his fingers around. The explosives enthusiast screamed and immediately dissolved into hysterical laughter. He didn’t even have a chance to fight it; the ticklish sensations came swift and sudden, and left him writhing on the couch. This time, he accidentally threw the modder off of him, and he could only pray that she wasn’t injured. Besides a yip of surprise and a few words of profanity, Ramya was perfectly fine.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! BLOHOHOHOOHDY STAHAHAHAHA--” Walter’s demands were lost in his laughter as he dug his heels into the couch again. Since his arm was the only thing pinned down, he bucked himself forward to try and sit up. It didn’t work the first time, and it spurred Octavio to tickle him faster, drawing out more protests and wild laughter. He tried again, and again, and one more time after that, but the tickling had weakened him, and he didn’t pull his arm free before Ramya collected herself.

“Heh, well that looks like that was a lie, huh?” Rampart noted. Since she didn’t want to get thrown off again, she decided to sit next to the couch and poke at his ribs. Walter snorted again and laughed even harder, his legs flailing all over the place. “All the more reason to tickle you. Right mate?”

Octavio happily nodded and fluttered his nails along the length of Walter’s armpits. “Yup! You brought this on yourself, señor.” He grinned, going on a search for an even more ticklish spot along the armpits.

Meanwhile, Fuse was dying laughing. He did all he could to try and propel himself forward to escape, but Octavio’s knee kept his arm in place. The last thing he wanted to do was plead, but he was running out of options, and he only had so much oxygen. “OKAHAHAY! ALRIHIHIHGHT! I’M SOHOHOHRRY!” He yelped, thrashing violently when the speedster lingered on the lowermost areas of the armpits, just a hair away from the ribs. Whenever he stroked there, he twitched and absolutely howled with laughter. “PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP!”

Ramya was the first to take notice; Walter didn’t seem like the type of guy to beg, so she assumed that they didn’t have a lot of time to keep on tickling him. She gently scratched at the ultra sensitive ribs that Octavio found: the uppermost and center most ones on each side of the rib cage. He desperately shook his head, attempting to dodge their hands, but they easily kept up with him. Thankfully, after a few more bouts of heavy laughter and intense struggling, Fuse finally pulled hard enough to get his arm free.

He immediately hopped to his feet and hurried towards his metal arm. The younger Legends blinked, surprised that he actually managed to get away, but it didn’t last long. They chased after him, laughing, and caught up with him before he could get a hold of his limb. Walter whirled around, extending his good arm out to defend himself, but it was too late. Both Octane and Rampart launched themselves towards the explosives enthusiast at the same time, each one burying a hand into an armpit. Fuse flinched and barked out some more protests mixed in with laughter, but ultimately, he ended up back on the floor in stitches.

“AHA! I GIHIHIHIHVE! I GIHIHIHIHVE! ENOHOHOHOUGH!” Walter yelled. He planted his hand on the floor and tried to use it as leverage to push himself up, but crashed back down when both Legends increased the tickling pace. At this point, poor Fusey was too tired to really try and get them to stop, so he could only shout another ‘plehehehehease’ before his laughter fell silent.

Rampart gradually halted the tickling and gently elbowed Octane. “Alright, alright. Let 's stop. Think grandpa is all tuckered out.” She chuckled, scooting back to give the man some room to recover. Octane pouted, but stopped shortly after Ramya did.

“Fine. Hey, no hard feelings, right amigo? I was super bored till you came along.” He added, heading over to where his metal arm was. He picked it up and handed it to Walter, who had to take a few extra minutes to catch his breath before he was able to grab it. He attached it back to his limb and exhaled. Fuse was still tired, but for a completely different reason now.

“...Glad I could be of service,” Walter quipped sarcastically. Octavio extended a hand to him to help him to his feet, and the older man accepted it gratefully. However, much to the speedster’s confusion, he didn’t release it right away. The speedster’s brows furrowed and he tried to tug his hand back to him, but when he looked into the man’s face, he saw a similar look of mischief in his eye. It made a shiver run down his spine. “But you do realize that disturbing me from my nap isn’t something I’m going to let slide, ay?”

Octane paled and only increased his efforts to yank his arm back to him. Thankfully, Rampart was still nearby, and she saved the day by giving the explosives expert another poke to the side. Walter yelped and jumped away from the touch, allowing both her and Octavio to scramble away. Fuse watched them go but, instead of chasing after them, he returned to his seat on the couch. He chuckled to himself; for now, he was going to return to his well deserved nap. But, when he woke up, ole Fusey was going to start some trouble...in more ways than one.

I was pretty nervous to post this since it's a little bit shorter than my usual fics, but the length of this one just felt 'right' when I finished writing and reread it. This is also my first time writing for Fuse and I'm still working on getting his character down, especially since this was kinda an impulse write :P. Anyways, I hope you liked the story.

#fuse apex legends #fuse #rampart apex legends #rampart #octane #octane apex legends #walter fitzroy #ramya parekh #octavio silva #ticklish!fuse #ticklish!fusey #ticklish!walterfitzroy #ticklish!walter #ticklish!fitzroy #apex legends tickle fic #apex legends

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wendimydarling · 4 years

Text

Revenge

Title: Revenge

Summary: Walter gets revenge on his wife.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x First Person Reader

Word Count: 1918

Warnings: Nuthin’ but floof here! Oh, and some female nudity.

A/N: This story was inspired by drunk Tumblr! and the conversation between me, @hell1129-blog, @yoursecretsmutblog, and @ly--canthrope in the comments of this post here. Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter closed the door to the apartment, kicking off his shoes and tugging his sweater over his head. The day had been long and arduous, as most of his days were. He was looking forward to spending the evening with his girl. Who seemingly is nowhere to be found, he thought as he glanced around.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” he heard her reply. It sounded like it came from the bedroom. Walter traipsed down the hall and was met with the most beautiful sight he’d ever witnessed.

There she was, his siren wife, lying naked on their bed, her body on display for him. Her soft curves never ceased to arouse him; her beauty stealing his breath away, the matted shine of her olive skin hypnotizing him. But it wasn’t just her alluring glow that made him tremble. It was the fact that she had cuffed herself to the headboard and she was grinning at him profusely, already rubbing her legs against each other in anticipation.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” she explained, biting her lip. “I hope you don’t mind.”

It was Walter’s turn to smile. How on earth had he gotten so lucky? He stripped off his remaining shirt and straddled his tiny wife.

~~~~~~~~

I’ve had such a bad day. I can’t wait to get home to you.

The text message had seared my heart. I swore to myself I’d make his day better somehow, so when I found his handcuffs while going through the laundry, an idea immediately came to mind. I hurried quickly through the chore and headed to the bedroom to get ready. Walter would be home soon.

Once I was satisfied with my hair and touched up my makeup, I made my way to the bed, hurriedly slipping out of my work clothes. I laid down and hooked one wrist with the cuffs, relishing the way the cold metal felt against my flushed skin. We’d used them before, and I would never tire of the solid, relaxing sensation that flooded my body the moment I was restrained. My lady bits were already dripping, and Walter wasn’t even home yet.

Or maybe he was. I heard his boots thud outside the front door so I hastily put my arms above my head and connected the other wrist in the cuffs, trapping myself. I didn’t have a key; the only way out now was Walter. I slunk down a little so that I was nice and stretched, feeling grounded and excited for what was in store.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” I called out to him, unable to keep myself from grinning as I pictured his reaction. I wasn’t disappointed; the look on his face as his jaw dropped three inches was worth everything. My pussy throbbed at how dark his eyes grew, and I pressed my legs together, fending her off.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” I teased, biting my lip as I watched my husband swallow thickly. ‘I hope you don’t mind.”

Walter smiled slowly and I shivered as he took off his shirt, allowing me to see every muscle in that thick chest of his as he came over to the bed and climbed on top of my small frame. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under my back before pressing his weight on my thighs and I was at once unable to move, my entire upper body deliciously arched and at his mercy.

He leaned onto his elbows, his face hovering over me as his fingers brushed over my breasts. I squirmed a little, the light touch tickling softly. His smirk had taken on an evil hue and I gulped, suddenly uncertain about my life choices this evening.

“Do you remember,” He started, tracing circles around my nipples, “The surprise party you threw me for my birthday?”

Oh shit.

I tugged on the handcuffs at once, but I couldn’t move an inch. I looked into my husband’s eyes, pleading with him.

“Walter no, no no no this is not what I had in mind, don’t do this!”

“Do you remember the slideshow?” he asked, his fingers traveling up to my armpits, hovering over the exposed skin.

“Walter pleeeease!”

“Do you remember how I said you’d pay for it?”

All I could do was whimper, squirming ineffectively underneath his large frame.

“Welcome to my revenge, Sweetheart… thank you so much for offering it to me.”

“No Walter--fuck!!!” I squealed as his fingers started to dance over my sensitive hollows. He knows that it’s my worst place and Detective Marshall is a methodical man; he took care to tickle every exposed nerve beneath my arms. I laughed loudly, my inability to protect myself only further heightening the sensation as he tortured me freely.

I watched him through my laughter; his face was covered in joy, and I realized he was truly enjoying this. Whatever bad things had happened today, my suffering was erasing them from his mind. I figured I could take being tickled for a while, if only to see that happiness never leave my husband.

Then again, maybe not. He switched from spidering to poking and I screamed, arching my back even further into the tickles. That seemed like the opposite of how I should have been responding, but my body was reacting of its own accord at this point.

“WALTER PLEASE!!! No mooohohore!!!”

He just shook his head, chuckling at my feeble attempt to beg.

“You really think, after you embarrassed me with all those childhood photos, that I’m going to let you go after only five minutes? No my love, get comfortable. I’m going to tickle you all night.”

“NOOOOOO!” I wailed, the fingers switching tactics again. This time he was digging, and I was barely able to catch a breath before another long batch of laughter ripped through me. Walter sat up, and I knew what was coming next. I squirmed helplessly as the rest of my naked torso was exposed to his nimble fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned futilely.

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” he quipped, running those stupidly talented fingers up and down my sides. I kicked my legs futilely, or at least I tried to. I was unable to protect a single inch of my sensitive skin as ticklish sensations swarmed my body. Walter was laughing with me, egged on by my cries for him to stop.

He finally settled on my ribs and my laughter hit a new peak as he began to vibrate his fingertips against each one. Digging in with fervor, my husband set out to discover every new place within my bones that would cause the loudest response.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second Walter paused, spreading his large hands across my entire abdomen. I gasped for air, staring at his stupid grin as I pleaded with him for mercy.

“No more Walter, please… I can’t take it, I’m gonna die!”

“It’s just a little tickling,” he chided, grazing his fingertips over my belly to keep me tense. “So long as I let you breathe you won’t die. You’ll just wish you had.”

“Walteeeeeheher…” My moan turned into a chuckle as his fingers started to pick up the pace, spidering softly all over the sensitive flesh of my torso. I clacked the cuffs hard against the headboard, the only movement I was capable of to express my frustration. Walter just laughed and attacked my sides once more, causing me to scream anew.

“Shhhh,” he warned me, “You’re going to make the neighbors think I’m murdering you.”

“YOU ARE!!!!” I shot back, twisting the little I could to evade his attack. I lost that battle in less than a second, and my screams grew louder as he dipped a finger into my belly button. He clapped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I saw an idea spring to life on his face as I laughed into his hand, and I watched in horror as he slowly lowered his head.

I tried to bite him, tried to shake him off, but nothing I did could stop his descent toward my torso. Walter’s lips hovered an inch from my navel and he looked up at me as I glared at him, those icy blue eyes boring wickedly into my soul as he dramatically took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the hell that was about to ensue.

Walter blew a raspberry straight into my core and suddenly the world ceased to exist. The only thing that existed was tickles. He blew raspberry after raspberry all over my sensitive belly, scrubbing his beard against my skin each time he took a breath. His hands returned to scrabbling rapidly over my armpits and I absolutely howled, tears rolling down my face as I could to do nothing but lay there and take it.

“I’M SORRY!!!! I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY!!!” I screamed, face flushed red and desperate. Walter stopped tickling again and returned to his position of lying on top of me, his fingertips walking slowly up and down my armpits. It kept me giggling, but it was bearable.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For embarrassing you at the pa-HAR-ty,” I exclaimed.

“Good. Now admit you like this.”

“What the fuck, no I don’t!”

Walter just smiled knowingly.

“I could smell it halfway through, love… you’re soaked. Admit it, you got turned on by a little tickling.”

I shook my head. He wasn’t wrong, but I’d be damned if I gave him an excuse to do this again. Walter sighed.

“Alright, well I guess I’ll just have to keep tickling until you see reason.”

He started wiggling his fingers again and I gave in at once.

“NO NO NO OKAY! I’ll admit it I--” I swallowed thickly, sighing in defeat. “--I liked being tickled.”

“Well if you like it, I guess that’s no reason for me to stop,” Walter mused, reinstating his assault under my arms. I squealed.

“Oh god, Walter PLEASE STOP!” I begged, my lungs burning with the effort to breathe. He ran his hands up my arms, squeezing them gently as he kissed me. I moaned into his mouth, all at once ravenous to be taken. His lips found their way to my neck and I gasped, desire searing its way into my loins. I pulled at the cuffs, wanting to touch my husband and frustrated beyond words that I couldn’t. It seemed so unfair, seeing as though his hands were roaming my body freely.

“Walter,” I groaned, writhing underneath his touch. “Please uncuff me.”

“No,” he mumbled against my collarbone, slipping his fingers into the slick between my legs.

“I intend to fuck you, just like this. And when I’m done,” Walter looked into my eyes with the most serious expression I’d ever seen, except for a tiny glint of humor in his eyes. The slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, one that made me shiver, and not in a good way. I knew that look. He leaned over and whispered in my ear the worst words I had ever heard in my life.

“When I’m done, I’m going to tickle you. All. Over. Again.”

I vowed then and there to hide any and all handcuffs that ever made their way into our apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fan Club: @littlefreya @sciapod @thiccgeralt @fucking-hell-cavill @brexrif @peakygroupie @viking-raider @constip8merm8 @daniig95 @elinalfrida @hell1129-blog @oddsnendsfanfics @agniavateira @dearlybelovedluke @sofiebstar @wanderinglunarnights @mary-ann84 @nuns-and-roses @luclittlepond @thekingstachemademedoit @iloveyouyen @lestersglitterglue @funnygirlthatgab @wondersofdreaming @yoursecretsmutblog @valkavill @kevia1000 @trippedmetaldetector @lifeofrileyp @captaingothgirl1996 @sasusakubae @princess-of-riviaa @vivodinson @paradisecitychild @stuckupstucky @speakerforthedead0-blog

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theinkvendingmachine · 4 years

Text

she's ticklish in her sides. >:D

#anonymous #Charlotte answers asks #Charlotte Walters #Bendy and the ink machine #She's ticklish #You did it anon!

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burhouse · 2 years

Note

Who's ticklish out of the burs?

Walter: Well... don't tell anyone I told you this. It's Milo. He will start laughing just by the smallest of pokes. I reckon he'd be crying within seconds if you kept it up.

I've heard from Blue that Casper is a contender... and a surprising report about General. But you didn't hear these findings from me.

#wilbur soot #walter crondale #burhouse #email incoming #bursonas

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Text

The Long Con Part Eleven

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Cursing, a lil angst, some fluff...Well, mostly fluff. Summary: The wedding day had been much more relaxed— for you, anyway.

You would’ve given anything to spend the entire day in bed with Marcus. You relished in his soothing touches, relaxing little murmurs. But you eventually pried yourself out of his arms, unpacked the few things you’d hastily thrown into your toiletries bag, and rejoined the family downstairs.

You were so tired from the work you’d done the night before, and felt so worn from what you’d admitted to the Pikes. But rather than hang around the house, you went with Marnie and Jill to drop checks off to the vendors, and helped to set up the space for the rehearsal dinner. You wanted to show them that there were no hard feelings, especially after they’d apologized several more times at breakfast. Besides, you needed the distraction. You hadn’t heard anything back from Melinda about the information that you’d given her or the team in regards to your grandmother’s potential involvement in forging Leda and the Swan (potential— you were still insisting that it was still possible that it wasn’t her; that painting showed signs of age, wear-and-tear; the materials were old; you didn’t even know where she was—); your mind drifted back to the shock on the Pike’s faces from that morning every few minutes. It was odd, knowing that Jill and Marnie now knew so much more about you, but still chattered amiably with you. If anything, this incident, your absolute honesty, seemed to have brought you closer to the family. Odd. Odd, but comforting.

-- The most vindicating moment came when Kimberly arrived at the rehearsal dinner and spotted you. The color seemed to drain from her face completely, her smile dropping in a second. You just offered her a bright grin and a quick wave. “Who are you waving at?” Marcus asked, looking around. You looked up at him, finding that his smile disappeared just as quickly, his face darkening at the sight of her. “Don’t,” You urged softly, wrapping your arm around his middle, “We’re here for Marnie, and we’re fine. There’s no need for a scene.” “I can think of a reason.” “C’mon.... Marky.” His lips quirked into a reluctant smile at your teasing, and you smoothed your hand over his side as he sighed through his nose. “Now is not the time to say anything,” You added. “...Looks like I won’t have to.” You frowned, turning back to see Jill and Marnie approaching Kimberly. Your eyes widened slightly. “What are they doing?” You asked. “I do not know,” Marcus admitted quietly. You couldn’t hear the conversation from there, but you could just make out a flash of irritation on Kimberly’s face, a rising flush of frustration before she stomped toward the door. Your brows rose sharply as she left and Jill and Marnie disappeared back into the crowd of revelers. Marcus hummed, satisfied. “You were right,” He agreed, resting his chin on your shoulder, “No need for a scene.” --

You leaned back against Marcus’ chest, smiling softly as you watched Hazel and Marnie do their first dance. Marcus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, his cheek rested against your temple. He swayed the two of you back and forth to the music. The ceremony had gone perfectly. Jill and Marcus had both cried a bit; you’d even seen Walter shed a couple of tears. The wedding day had been much more relaxed— for you, anyway. Marcus had been keeping close at the reception especially, and you were happy to be held. You’d met Marcus’ ex-wife, Deanna, and for all of the nervousness that had welled up in you, you’d found that she was very amiable, even sweet. She and Marcus treated one another like old friends, teased and joked. You didn’t feel intimidated by their ease. She’d been more than kind to you. It was nice to see Marcus so relaxed with his family and friends. You’d found yourself watching him throughout the day, and realizing just how much you would miss him. Not just the closeness that came with being near someone, but the closeness that came with being around Marcus. You were certain that once you returned to D.C., things would return to the work-centric relationship that the two of you had previously, and that was so odd to consider. The man now knew so many of your secrets: your favorite foods, books, pastimes… Where you were ticklish. Not that many people had such information. You were going to miss his family, too. “What are you thinking about?” He murmured.

You were thinking that you wanted to freeze this moment. You wanted to keep it somewhere safe, hold onto it for the days when the world felt like it was dark and closing in-- days that were surely just around the corner. You wanted to memorize what it felt like to be cuddled against Marcus’ chest, to be held like you were precious; you wanted to keep this feeling of warmth, this feeling of safety, and happiness.

You wanted this to be real. “...How happy they are,” You answered, smiling as Hazel rested her forehead against Marnie’s. --

“Okay, if you’re not gonna finish that frosting, give it,” Marcus said. You rolled your eyes, pushing the excess icing that you’d cleared off of the piece of cake onto Marcus’ plate. “You’re gonna have such a headache in the morning,” You teased, tugging your plate back toward yourself. “Am not,” Marcus chuckled before nudging your leg with his, “You having fun?” “I’m with you, of course I’m having fun,” You said honestly. Marcus grinned as he reached out, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Then he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m glad you’re here,” He murmured, “I wouldn’t wanna be here with anyone else.” You turned your head, kissing Marcus softly, and giggling after a moment. He leaned back, brow furrowed. “What is it?” “You taste like frosting,” You laughed, unable to help it. Marcus grinned, dipping his finger in the frosting he’d scraped from your plate. “You know what?” He asked before plopping the dollop on your nose. You groaned, batting his hand away and reaching for your napkin. “I don’t need any more icing, Pike, I’m sweet enough.”

You settled down against Marcus, yawning widely. It was nearly three in the morning. Your feet were sore and you were all danced out, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had so much fun. You reached up, rubbing Marcus’ smooth cheek. “Can’t believe you shaved,” You pouted a little. “You miss the uh… The beard that was to-be?” Marcus asked. “I was getting used to it. Looked good,” You rested your chin on his chest. He smiled, stroking his hand over your shoulder. “You have everything you need for tomorrow?” “Mhm.” “Flight leaves in...What, eight hours?” Marcus glanced toward the clock on his dresser, “We should get some sleep.” You grunted, turning your head and closing your eyes. “Alright,” You mumbled, “Sleep now.” After a few moments of quiet, you heard Marcus say, “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” “Mm?” “There’s been a break in the da Vinci.” Fear gripped you as your eyes opened, your heart ticking up in your chest. You were quiet, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, you glanced up, finding him half-asleep already. “Tell you in the morning,” He finally mumbled, yawning widely. You smiled, leaning up and pecking his jaw. “Sweet dreams, Agent Pike,” You murmured. “Mm,” He hummed, giving your shoulder a light squeeze, “Sweet dreams, baby.” The murmur thrilled you, and you dropped another kiss to Marcus’ clothed chest before closing your eyes again.

-- “Now you come back and visit,” Walter patted your shoulder before letting go of you. “I’d really love that,” You nodded, meaning it. You turned to Jill, smiling as she drew you into her arms and hugged you tightly. “You’ll call when you land,” She said. “We will,” You promised. “I told you we would, mom,” Marcus chuckled. He waited until she’d pulled away before leaning in to hug her. “Just, remember to— He forgets.” “I will make sure he remembers,” You smiled. “Alright, fly safe! Well, as safe as you can as passengers,” Jill glanced between the two of you, smiling as Walter tucked Jill under his arm. “Alright,” Marcus took hold of your hand, “Let’s go.” -- You took in Marcus’ profile as he swiped through the onscreen entertainment options. He was distracted, which gave you plenty of time to just...Watch. You remembered the tightness in his jaw on the previous flight, the way his leg had been bouncing. He glanced over at you, doing a double-take when he saw you looking at him. “What is it?” He asked. “You are so relaxed right now,” You smiled, “You were practically shaking the plane when we left D.C.” Marcus chuckled, leaning back in his seat a little bit, “Well… We’re done, it’s… Over, you know. It worked. Like holy shit, it worked,” He tipped his head back, looking up, “I just lied to my family for a week.” “Hey,” You soothed, nudging his arm with yours, “We just lied to your family for a week.” He chuckled, tipping his head to the side to look at you. “Yeah,” He agreed, “I could not have done this without you.” “Maybe next time you’ll just let Marnie set you up with Kimberly again.” “After the shit she pulled? Not a chance,” Marcus shook his head. He took hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers, “I still can’t believe you told my parents...What you did.” You looked down at your joined hands. “I kinda can’t believe I did, either,” You admitted quietly, “But I trust them… I trust you.”

There was a pause before Marcus untangled his hand from yours. You felt panic snake through your veins, but Marcus’ hand raised and cupped your cheek. He drew you in for a sweet kiss. You leaned up into it, resting your hand on Marcus’ thigh and sighing softly. He rested his forehead against yours as the kiss broke, and you kept your eyes closed for a few moments, reveling in the feeling.

“I should probably stop doing that, huh,” He said softly. Please don’t, You thought.

“...Probably,” You conceded aloud.

Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana ; @heatherbel ; @marydjarin ; @annathewitch ; @absurdthirst ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire ; @misswriter ; @bison-writes ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx ; @ajeff855 ; @hellovanessax ; @drinkingwhileblogging ; @meanperegrine ; @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan ; @autumnleaves1991-blog ; @xoxo-callie ; @mentally-dating-din-djarin ; @frenchyjuju

#The Long Con #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike imagine #Marcus Pike fic

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

And I Will Hold Onto You

Summary: They’ve never been apart for holidays since they started dating. That was until Spencer Reid found himself behind bars for a crime he’d never think of committing. Growing and healing, Spencer realizes that it’s not the holidays that matter, it’s the person. Because with that special person, who’s laugh he can recognize anywhere, even cleaning up the empty bottle the next morning is magical.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Author’s Note/Warnings: Body Image Issues (Male) nothing too descriptive, prison arc is mentioned/is central issue; loosely based of New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift

Also this is technically a part 2 to Drag Me Head First but it doesn’t have to be read that way.

And I Will Hold Onto You

There’s something special in the way that the first midnight of the new year feels. All that hopefulness and excitement packed into a 10 second countdown. The energy in the room slowly bubbles up, culminating as the ball drops. It fizzles out as loved ones share chaste kisses and friends hug. But all that remains are last year’s bottles and this year’s dreams. Maybe it’s something that Spencer always took for granted.

The cold midnight air is jarring, compared to his warm and cozy house. Spencer walks quickly, taking out the trash, filled with bottles of beer and wine. The snow crunches under his shoes and Spencer can see his breath in the air as he huffs to toss the bag in the black trash bin. Spencer, despite the way the cold air nips his nose, stops in his tracks and gazes up at the stars. It’s unfortunate living where he does, you can never really see all the stars. Maybe Y/N would like to take a trip in their cabin the next time he can get off? He could show her all the stars. But Spencer doesn’t need to go to the middle of the woods to see the stars; he can simply look into Y/N’s eyes and see all the magic the universe has to offer.

Spencer lets himself back into his house, just as Garcia and Derek are putting their shoes and coats on to leave. Y/N comes out of the kitchen carrying two trays of leftover food for their friends to take home.

“Penny, please kiss those sweet babies for me,” Y/N says, handing Luke the trays of food. She leans over to kiss Penelope on her cheek.

“They can only sweet when they are sleeping,” Penelope says, rolling her eyes and putting her coat on. It’s more of a cape in a spectacular plum purple color with cream colored faux fur trim.

“Don’t act so surprised, mi amor, look who their mother is,” Luke says, cheekily. He hugs Spencer and Y/N before grabbing Garcia’s hand with his empty one.

“Happy New Year!” Garcia and Luke call as they leave, shutting the door behind them. Spencer locks the door and heads back to the kitchen to help Y/N clean up. The plates sit in the sink piled high, with tall champagne glasses resting next to them on the counter. Glitter scatters on the floor, confetti in the shapes of “1s” and “6” lay littered on the tiles, remnants of the festivities just moments before.

Y/N stands over the sink, her hand rests on the ledge. She turns on the water and starts washing the dishes. Spencer walks up quietly behind her, nuzzling his hand into the corner of her ear and shoulder. He hums, the vibrations echoing into Y/N’s neck, causing her to giggle. He joins his hands together around Y/N’s waist, holding her tight.

“Happy New Year, my love,” Spencer whispers, his voice hardly audible above the stream of water. Even though Spencer can’t see Y/N, he can feel the way her cheeks grow against the side of his head. She’s smiling.

“It is a very happy, new year,” Y/N says, her voice strong, yet Spencer can tell it’s hard for her to keep it together. It’s not their first new year, far from it, it’s their 13th. But this time, it feels different to hold her in his arms and kiss her as the clock strikes 12.

They wash the dishes in silence, a comforting silence where certain things don’t need to be said. Like a well oiled machine, Y/N washes, Spencer dries. The sudsy dish soap smells like home and Y/N’s quiet hums sound like peace. Spencer really forgot how much he could love even the most mundane of tasks when Y/N stands next to him.

“Come on, Y/N we can do this tomorrow. Let’s just go to bed,” Spencer says, tugging on Y/N’s long sleeve of her thermal shirt.

“Hmm, I can’t argue against your cuddles, sweetheart,” Y/N murmurs tiredly, easily pushing the thoughts of clean up to the next morning. Her hand joins his, like a key finding it’s matching lock. They are cold from the water, but Spencer doesn’t really mind.

A tangle of limbs and hands, they make their way up the stairs to their shared bedroom. They pass the wall filled with pictures of their smiling faces or candid countenances in mismatching frames hung against the wall. It’s just a testament to how long they’ve been together, going back to their first date right before Y/N’s college graduation and Spencer’s fifth, leading up to their most recent Halloween. Each photo stuck in time, frozen with utter happiness and unadulterated joy. But there’s a gap in the collection, a gap that Spencer rather not talk about. A gap where, for the first time since they met, Spencer and Y/N were separated. Sitting in jail, all Spencer could think of was the personal mental prison that Y/N must have confined herself too.

They don’t like talking about the gap, but he knows they have too. Spencer knows that Y/N is proud of him, she tells him that everyday. Proud of him for keeping up with therapy, proud of him for letting go of the little things that he can’t control, proud of him for trusting her with his secrets and fears. It’s the strangest thing, to have someone be proud of you for just living.

“We’re going to need a bigger wall,” Spencer says, hoping that his attempt at referencing pop culture would land. Y/N stops to turn to Spencer, who in the moonlight that drips in from the window, looks much younger than he really is.

“Did you just make a pop culture reference that’s not from, like, 300 years ago?” Y/N says, her brow upturned in a quizzical stare.

“Come on, Y/N, you love when I recite all Sir Walter Raleigh to you,” Spencer says, reaching up to tickle Y/N sides, causing her to giggle and run up the rest of the stairs.

“Spencer! You know that I’m too ticklish,” Y/N says in between short laughs and gasps for air. She plops down on the bed, dragging Spencer down with her. He lays his head down on her chest and like a Rube Goldberg machine, her fingers come up and tangle themselves in his hair.

“Maybe our New Year’s Resolution should be to get some more exercise, Spence. Your heart is beating faster than mine and that run from the steps to our room is like a good 10 feet,” Y/N jokes as she continues scratching Spencer’s scalp lulling him into a peaceful, sleepy state.

“Two things, baby, one, we don’t exercise and two, that’s not why my heart is beating so fast, I think it has something to do with the beautiful girl laying so close to me,” Spencer murmurs quietly.

“Hmm, you certainly know how to charm a girl, even like 13 years later,”

“Actually it’s, 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 17 hours, 58 minutes and 31 seconds,” Spencer says with a quick glance at his watch.

“And I’ve loved every single minute of it,” Y/N says, reaching up to sneak a pillow under Spencer’s head. She moves to get out of bed, much to Spencer’s displeasure.

“No, no, Y/N you’re so warm and I’m freezing,” Spencer whines, shifting so he can look at his wife, who has shrugged off her thermal shirt and jeans.

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N chides. Spencer, almost bashful at her teasing, attempts to hide his blush with the pillow that rests under his head.

“I only turn the heat all the way down at night so we’re forced to cuddle for body heat,” Spencer says, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“So you say,” Y/N tells Spencer, sitting down back on the bed. She pulls on Spencer’s legs, dragging him down the bed.

“Come on lazy boy, get your PJs on,” Y/N orders. Spencer, who under Penelope’s less than pure supervision, had enough shots to make up for all the college parties that he missed. There’s happy drunks, forgetful drunks, and then there're sleepy drunks.

Spencer stands in front of the mirror, inspecting his body. The low, yellow lamp light casts shadows on his naked torso. He’s filled out a little bit since they’ve started dating, especially within the last few months of Spencer’s healing. Y/N knew that it’s a sore spot for him, but there’s something about the way that Spencer’s dress pants sit tightly against his thighs or the way his shirt clings to his stomach that just makes him look so much older. Both of them, including their bodies, have changed so much since 13 years ago. Or 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 18 hours, 5 minutes and 12 seconds ago. They’ve grown up together, and now Y/N can’t wait to grow old together.

But the look in his eyes is not pride over his growth or confidence over his physique. It’s confusion. Spencer stares at himself like he’s an unsolvable puzzle. Y/N knows he must hate that; Spencer hates things that he can’t find an answer to. Y/N walks up behind him, lacing her finger together so her arms clasp against his waist. For a moment, Spencer flinches. Even her gentlest touches and softest kisses can’t wash away the fear of much harsher contact. Their eyes meet in the mirror, but Y/N can feel that Spencer’s not looking at her. After all these years, she can still see the terrified young man who brazenly kissed her in her car in the middle of a rainstorm. After all these years, Spencer is still the only man she ever loved.

“Spencer,” Y/N says quietly. His name off her lips is more tender than any pet name in existence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m being immature, it’s just,” Spencer closes his eyes, trying to focus himself in the present. It’s something that his therapist suggested. In moments of distress, find your anchor. Luckily for Spencer, his anchor has been his anchor for quite awhile.

“You can tell, I’m not going to judge you,” Y/N says, her lips leaving small kisses on his exposed shoulders.

“It’s just I thought this whole nightmare of prison was behind me. Therapy has been helping, I’m better on cases and I love teaching,” Spencer says, the pain in his voice leaking out.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, instead she guides Spencer to sit on the edge of their bed. She rubs her hand down his back, tracing his spine and around the freckles that collect on his right shoulder.

“I thought that the emotional healing would be the hardest part, I mean it is, but physically, I don’t recognize myself. I can imagine you don’t either,” Spencer says, he turns to lay on the bed, bringing his feet up to his chest in a textbook self-protective position.

“Spence, your body is gonna change, baby. God, mine has changed so much since we met,” Spencer gives Y/N a confused look, like he’s not thoroughly convinced by her explanation.

“It has Spencer. We’re not 22 years old anymore, we’re going to be like 35 in a couple of months. But you know, this is something we can work on together, I’ve gone my whole life not loving the skin I’m in. But being with you makes it easier, Spence.” Y/N says, running her fingers across the bridge of Spencer’s nose and down to his lips, that always a ridiculously gorgeous shade of pink. Spencer doesn’t say much, he’s still trapped deep inside his mind.

“I don’t know how you put up with me and all my antics, Y/N”

“You do my taxes every year,” Y/N jokes, making an effort to kiss every freckle and dipple on the expanse of Spencer’s back.

Spencer turns in the bed so he’s facing Y/N, he cups her face all the way from her ear to her jaw. It’s an intimate gesture that somehow is more loving and vulnerable than saying “I love you,”

“You know you make me fearless, Y/N,” Spencer tells her, not blinking because he doesn’t want to miss out on any more time looking into her eyes.

“You say that everyday Spencer Reid,” Y/N responds, letting herself melt into the touch. She grabs onto his wrist, physically telling him to not let go.

“I have a lot of days to make up for,” Spencer says, solemnly.

“It’s not making it up if it’s the rest of our life, Spencer. Besides, there’s no one I’d rather spend New Year’s Day cleaning up all those bottles with,”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Taglist** (Comment to be Added or Send in An Ask)

@calm-and-doctor @shemarmooresfedora

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid you #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fics #spencer reid fanfiction

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angelatmidnight1 · 2 years

Note

Heya! So as an apex player that is also a part of the tk community I’ve had a blast seeing and reading your stuff! It’s so fluffy and perfect ;-; 💞 just wanted to drop a request if that’s possible, feel free to ignore it!

But out of all your stuff, Lee Bloodhound was just what never knew I needed… and with some voice lines between them and fuse I just.. imagine how fluffy.. ;-; ok bye✨

A/N: There was no way I could hear these new voicelines from Season 14 and not write something for it. I kinda also used inspiration from this Apex Legends comic. It's been a while since I've written for Bloodhound, but I really hope you like it!!

Tongue Tied

Bloodhound’s been trying to show more affection towards Fuse, and Fuse is only too happy to return the favor. He gets a kick out of flustering the hunter and tends to leave them speechless. Things heat up after their match, and Fuse tickling them silly doesn’t help cool things down.

Bloodhound loomed over the last downed member of the enemy squad; they knew, since the death boxes did not immediately appear, that someone had a golden knockdown shield. And, seeing how Pathfinder was moving behind a large storage box, they had a good inkling that he had it. They stopped him and brandished their ax, aiming and throwing it to hit right between the optic. Path went down with a crash; and, finally, both his and Mirage’s death boxes appeared at their feet. But, before they could claim the spoils, they had to pick their own teammate up.

Mirage had gotten the jump on Fuse, ambushing him using his ultimate, and Pathfinder had the perfect perch to rain down shots. He would’ve been a goner if not for Hound coming in at just the right time and mowing them down. The hunter knelt down to revive him.

“Back on your feet, my mate.” Hound said. They grabbed his arm and gave it a strong pull to help him up. Fuse, cracking his bones, exhaled a sigh of relief. Then, while he healed, he eyed the hunter with a grin.

“Oho, mate, eh?”

Hound looked up from a box, their eyes widening with realization. “Oh, nei!” They responded, their cheeks flushing with embarrassment. They looked back down and continued rooting through the box. “Forgive me, I am veikr with your tongue--er, language!”

Walter chuckled and moseyed his way over to them. He knelt down at the same box and playfully bumped their shoulder with his own. “Ain’t nothin’ to forgive, Houndy. I wasn’t complainin’.” He hummed. Hound wouldn’t look at him, so he gently bumped shoulders again. The hunter jumped and finally glanced up to meet his eye. Walter’s grin widened. “It sounds nice, comin’ from you. Even if that’s not exactly how we say it…mate.”

Bloodhound sighed. “I will learn how you speak with time, Walter.” They murmured, pocketing a few more stacks of ammo before standing. “This, I promise you.”

Fuse followed suit. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got all the time in the world, ay?” He responded, winking. Hound nodded, a small smile tugging at their lips. But just when they thought they were in the clear, Walter continued. “Now, if it’s my tongue you’re lookin’ to learn, well…I’m down for that whenever you’d like.”

Hound blinked, their blush returning in full force. They whirled around to address them, their mouth open…but they couldn’t come up with anything to say. Finally, they stammered, “T-This is not the time for jokes. Let us return to the hunt.”

Fuse smirked and followed after them. They made their way onto a high hill that overlooked the arena. Bloodhound knelt down and brought the scope of their Sentinel up to their eye. Then, while they surveyed the area, Walter leaned down and got close enough to whisper, “I wasn’t jokin’.”

The hunter yelped and accidentally fired their gun. The sound rang out over the arena and, most likely, alerted any nearby squads to their position. Slowly, Hound lowered their weapon and leered at him. The Salvonian defensively raised his hands.

“Just thought you’d wanna know.” He teased. Just then, a smoke bomb came launching at them from afar, exploding at their feet. Hound flinched and pulled the man down to their level before they used their tactical. Bangalore was pushing up on their location with Newcastle bringing up the rear. The hunter looked at their teammate and huffed.

“The andskoti are aware of our position. I’d like to focus our attention on the hunt now, Walter.” They insisted, swapping their sniper out for their assault rifle. Walter got back up and readied their Mother Lode.

“Alright, I’ll behave. Let’s win this bloody game, ay?”

Walter made good on his promise up until it was his turn to pick them up. Despite their best efforts, Hound’s mind kept wandering, and they weren’t as focused as they claimed to be. And Walter didn’t make it any easier when he said, “You ain’t dyin’ until you take me out, Houndy. Hunting, I mean.”

Bloodhound exhaled as they were pulled back onto their feet. They shook their head, a smile tugging at the corner of their lips. “Have you forgotten your promise?”

Fuse snickered, saying, “I guess I can’t help myself.”

Later, when the match was over, Bloodhound decided to bring Walter two cases of his favorite beer. They figured it would be as good a gift as any, especially since they owed him at least two rounds from previous matches. They descended the drop ship and followed the scent of cooked meat to find him. When they did, they called, “Walter Fitzroy.”

Fuse looked up from what he was doing. He smiled. “Hey, Houndy.” he greeted. “Whatcha up to?”

For a moment, Bloodhound faltered, and the beer suddenly felt heavy. What if they brought the wrong kind? What if Walter didn’t like it? They took a breath and pressed forward, putting both cases on an adjacent table. “I brought a gipt for you.” They answered, turning both cases around so he could see them. “As a token of my gratitude for preventing my defeat in battle.”

Fuse beamed and, turning off the heat on the grill, strode over to them. “Well, cheers very much! You didn’t have to do that for me.” He answered, hooking his flesh arm around their shoulders. He squeezed. “Seriously, thank you.”

Bloodhound chuckled warmly and said, “It is no trouble.”

Fuse moved his arm and reached around them for a bottle, pushing it into their hands. “Come on,” he started, fishing in his pocket for an opener. “Let’s crack ‘er open, ay?”

There was only one person that Hound felt comfortable removing their mask around, and that person was Walter. They sat around the campfire Walter made and removed their respirator. Walter plopped down across from them, popping the cap off of his beer.

“So,” he drawled, his grin illuminated by the glow of the fire. “Whaddya wanna toast to this time? Our win? Maybe health and good fortune? Or…”

Bloodhound tsked, smirking. They knew where this was going, and they weren’t going to follow him. “As I have already told you…” They answered, watching the man’s grin widen. “I did not give a toast to butt smacks.”

Walter threw his head back with a laugh. “That’s exactly what you did!” he insisted, slapping his knee. “I know what I heard. Those words literally came outta your mouth.”

“You misheard me!” Hound protested, snickering. Fuse smirked and, leaning forward, he clinked his bottle against theirs. Then, both Legends took a sip of their drink.

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is that if ya ever wanted to smack my arse, you could go right ahead. I wouldn’t mind.” Fuse said. “Hell, I reckon I’d like it.”

Hound choked on their drink. “Walter--” They coughed, putting their bottle down. Fuse chuckled.

“I’m not sayin’ you have to, just that the offer’s on the table.” He responded, winking. Bloodhound cleared their throat and slowly nodded.

“...I understand.” They replied. They picked their bottle back up and took another sip. Walter did the same. His eyes flicked over to the hunter every now and then, noticing that their face was getting red. He grinned.

“You’re thinkin’ about it, aren’t you?”

Hound’s blush darkened and they frantically shook their head. “Nei! I am thinking of no such thing.” They blurted out, slightly turning away from the Salvonian. “I simply underestimated the strength of the flames..”

“Then why’d you turn away from me?” Fuse pressed on, getting up to sit beside them. Hound dismissively waved their hand, mumbling something, and still refused to turn back around. Walter gently poked their back. “Houndy~”

Hound fidgeted, but otherwise didn’t respond. Walter poked them again, this time aiming for the back of their ribs, and he heard them gasp. He kept on doing it, keeping up with their squirming, until the hunter finally reached an arm around. They batted at his hand.

“Enohough..” They tittered. Fuse grinned and slowly moved closer to them.

“Hard to hear ya when you’re givin’ me the shoulder. What’d you say?”

Hound felt Walter’s presence getting closer. They turned around right as he jabbed at their hip, making them yelp loudly. They threw their hand over their mouth, praying to the Gods that no one heard them.

Then, still snickering, Hound whispered, “Plehease dohohon’t do that…”

“What? I still can’t hear you. Move your bloody hand outta the way!” Fuse laughed. He kept on advancing towards them, boxing them in between himself and the corner. He reached for the hunter’s wrist, but they pulled it back. Now, just within an arm’s length of them, Fuse warned, “I ain’t gonna ask again, Houndy.”

Bloodhound raised their free arm, preparing to defend themselves. The playful glint in the Salvonian’s eye was undeniable. And, they realized that they didn’t have any escape routes where they didn’t have to go through him. The hunter slowly extended their arm out, gently pushing him. “Walter, please. Give mehehehe a mohohohment—”

Instead of going for their hips again, Walter returned to their ribs, attacking them with light pokes. Hound flinched and moved their hand from their face, squirming more vigorously.

“Noohohohoho!” Hound whined, belting out a laugh whenever Fuse got a sensitive rib. They grabbed onto his hands to keep them at bay, but Walter kept getting one hand free and resuming his attack. So, Hound pivoted their body to the side, using their free arm to block some more. “Stohohohp it, Wahahahlter!”

Instead of complying, Walter wrenched both hands out of their grip, pushing them under their arms. He prodded at their armpits, earning a yelp of laughter. His hands ended up trapped under their arms, but it didn’t stop him from tickling. Hound yelled and laughed harder, making the Salvonian grin.

“Ah, there ya are! Thought I lost ya for a second.” Walter chuckled. It wasn’t easy to bring the hunter down; they were strong, and he had to really worm his fingers along their armpits before they finally fell. Then, he kneeled over them, working to get ‘em pinned down. He scooped their wrists up into his metal hand and pulled them above their head. Now that there wasn’t anything hiding their face, he could easily see their flushed cheeks and wide grin. “What’cha blushin’ for, mate? Was it somethin’ I said?”

Hound’s eyes widened and they struggled harder to free up their hands. They turned their head away from Walter’s teasing grin. “I already tohohold yohuhu…” They panted, tugging against his grip. “I became overheated…”

“Heh, that’s a hell of an understatement.” Walter, keeping their wrists in his metal hand, resumed his tickle attack on their armpits. This time, he took his thumb and dug it into their hollows, earning more laughter. “And you’re sure it has nothin’ to do with what I said? Nothin’ at all?”

“I ahahahm cehehehertain!” They repeated. They arched their back and laughed louder when Walter scratched his thumb around in circular motions. “AHaha! PLehehehehease dohohohohn’t!”

Walter snickered; getting Hound to laugh was a treat on its own, but being able to see their smile was the icing on the cake. “Fair enough,” he shrugged, dropping his hand onto their rib cage. This time, he scratched between the bones giving extra attention to the spots that made them yell. “I still ain’t lettin’ you go, though.”

“Whyhyhy?!” Bloodhound yelled. They drummed their legs against the ground when Walter switched from scratching to kneading in between their ribs.

“Because! I didn’t know you smiled like this when I make you laugh,” Fuse responded, suddenly gripping their hip bone and squeezing. Hound, bucking their hips, screamed and cackled. Walter did it again, having to sit down on their legs to keep from falling off. “Haha! I wouldn’t miss this for the world, mate.”

“NOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAP!” Hound yelled, writhing under his weight. They bucked again when he drilled his thumb into their hip. “REHEHELEASE MEHEHEHEHE!”

“Fine, but only cause I like you, ay?” Walter grinned. He let go of their wrists, as promised, but went right back to attacking their hips. This time, he grabbed onto each hip and dug all ten of his fingers into the bones. Hound thrashed against the ground, trying to get him off of the awfully ticklish spot. Their hands shot forward and gripped onto his wrists, pulling frantically, but he wouldn’t budge.

“THIHIHS IS NOHOHT WHAHAHAT I MEHEHEANT!” They laughed, squeezing his wrists. Fuse laughed along with them and pinched just above the hip bones. Hound yelped and threw their head back, laughing harder. “WAHAHAHALTER!”

“What? I let you go, didn’t I?” Walter playfully tutted, continuing to tickle the spot just a hair above the hip bones. Hound bucked again, dipping into hysterics, and made it that much harder for Fuse to keep tickling. “Now what’re you whinging about?”

Hound was laughing too hard to answer him. So, after re-pinning their arms above their head, Fuse poked at random spots along their armpits. The hunter panted, their hysterical laughter dying down to heavy giggles.

“Plehehehease stohohop tickling meehehehe…” They gasped, flinching when he flicked his nail at the center of the armpit. Fuse scoffed.

“Nope, what’d I say? I’m lovin’ this smile you’ve got.” He said, poking their cheek to make a point. When he smiled again, it was a kinder, gentler smile, unlike the previous teasing ones. “It suits ya.”

Once their breathing regulated, Hound nodded politely, slightly bowing their head. Although they were comfortable in removing the mask around him, the compliments were new, and it gave them butterflies. “Thank you, I appreciate you saying so.” They replied, smiling. They moved to pull their hands down, believing he was done tormenting them…but Walter hadn’t loosened his grip. Fuse smirked at them and squeezed their wrists. That was all the motivation Hound needed to renew their squirming. “B-But surely there are other methods…!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Fuse agreed, poking a finger back into their ribs. Hound recoiled to the side and yelped. “But they wouldn’t be as fun as this.”

“No! Wahahahahahait!” Hound pleaded, jumping again when he poked the opposite side of their ribs. They tried to reel in their giggles and focus on escaping…but Walter wasn’t making it easy for them. They shook their head, twisting from one side to the other, while his hand danced across their rib cage. “Yohuhuhu dohohohn’t hahahave tohohoho dohoho this!”

“Like I said, it’s too damn fun.” The Salvonian repeated, raking his nails along a particularly sensitive rib in the middle. He wasn’t tickling very hard but, from the way Hound was giggling, it was hard to tell. He chuckled. “I’m barely touchin’ ya! You’re just a cute lil’ bundle of nerves, aren't cha?”

And just like that, Hound blushed again. They opened their mouth to answer, but ended up arching their back again when Fuse poked a finger into their hip.

“NOHOHOhohoho I am nahahahat!” They argued, yelping out a laugh when Fuse poked into their other hip.

“Liar,” Walter shot back, smirking. Although it was easier to tickle them when pinned, it kept him from getting to both of their hips at the same time. So, he let their hands go again and went for the spots, latching on despite Hound grabbing his wrists. He squeezed again, again, and one more time for fun, leaving the hunter in stitches.

“WAHAHAHALTER PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” Hound yelled. They bucked their hips repeatedly and pulled at his wrists with all their strength, but it didn’t deter him. Their laughter echoed into the night as they kicked and bucked. Just before their laughter could go totally silent, Hound noticed that the flames of the campfire were dimming, and it was their only usable life line. “STAHAHAHA! THEHE--THEHEHE FLAHAHAMES!”

Fuse halted their tickle attack, arching a brow at them. “What?”

Bloodhound breathed heavily, blinking the tears out of their eyes. “Yohuhuhu need…tohoho relight thehehe fire…”

Fuse glanced over at the campfire. “Oh, right. Don’t go anywhere, ay?” He responded, giving their hips one more squeeze before he let them go. The fire had gone down a lot, and it’d take some work before he could get it bright again. Bloodhound rolled onto their side, still trying to catch their breath. By the time they did, Walter was still working on the fire, and they’d gotten up to finish their drink. Fuse heard the shuffling behind him and glanced over his shoulder.

“Houndy, where’re you off to?” He called, having to squint in the darkness. Bloodhound, however, was accustomed to the dark, and could see the Salvonian just fine. They opened their mouth, but then closed it, toying with the idea of revenge. They remained silent and began approaching him from behind. They were quick to grab their respirator and attach it back to their mask. Their steps were slow and deliberate, as if they were stalking prey, and they made little to no noise. Walter whirled around to where he thought he heard them, but he still didn’t see anything. “Alright, very funny, mate. I can’t see a damn thing! Can’t ya just tell me where you are?”

Hound smiled and refused to say anything…until they were close enough to attack. “I am right here, Walter.” They whispered, suddenly seizing his side and squeezing. Fuse yelled in surprise, turning sharply, and falling flat on his butt. He didn’t land anywhere near the fire, but his scream kind of made him wish he did. Bloodhound snorted.

“I apologize. I thought you heard me approach.” They said, snickering. Fuse narrowed his eye.

“Oh no, you’re not laughin’ at my expense! Come here,” He shouted, grabbing their leg to pull them down. Bloodhound went down, again, but not without a fight. For a while, both of the Legends’ laughter filled the night sky. But ultimately, because Hound didn’t get Walter’s metal arm off in time, the Salvonian won the tickle fight and re-pinned them down. He squeezed and tickled all along their waist and hips, making them howl with laughter.

“STOPSTOPSTOP!” Hound cackled, but Fuse refused to let up. If they wanted to laugh, he’d make them laugh.

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