#his usual frantic raised voice almost comical over the top reactions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softukiyos · 3 years

Text

a pinch of the jeekies | han jisung

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~2.7k+

𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮: 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘩𝘪 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦! 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦! 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩! >.< 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Jisung liked to take pride in his cheeks. When he'd first entered elementary school, he despised them. Everyone had seemed to shed their baby fat very quickly, but his squishy cheeks never left. After a few years of struggling with his self image, he entered high school, confident and proud of how he looked.

His cheeks were unmatched. No one would ever have cheeks that could even come close.

At least, that was what he thought before he met you, his strict, grumpy tutor that his chemistry teacher had assigned to him in hopes of raising his abysmal grades.

Jisung didn't like you at first. He'd known you from afar like most other people did; the top of the class, intellectually brilliant but aloof girl that didn't seem to care about anyone in the school.

Jisung didn't like you when he first met you in person. Your tutoring sessions were hard, and he meant really hard. You never let him get away with a single thing, not one missing unit, not one problem where he forgot to show work, nothing ever passed your watchful eye. And as much as he tried to resist, he found his grades improving at a rapid rate, which only encouraged his teacher to send him to you more.

After a month or so, however, it sort of hit Jisung like a truck when he finally had the revelation that you weren't so bad. As Spartan as your teaching methods were, you never belittled him for asking a stupid question, you wouldn't laugh if he asked you to slow down, and all in all, you were genuinely quite considerate of his feelings while still managing to get the results out of him. The first time he saw you genuinely smile was when he handed you his first B+, where you looked him in the eye and told him that you were proud of his improvement.

Jisung couldn't even remember the last time he received a compliment like that from anyone. So after a while, he began to think that maybe you didn't show care towards anyone in particular because no one ever bothered to look past your reputation to see you for who you were.

After another day of classes, he headed to the library, ready for another grueling hour of chemical reaction exercises. However, as he turned the corner into the little nook that you liked to study in, his steps faltered as he saw you slumped over the desk, your head resting on your arms as you slept soundly.

Now, Jisung probably shouldn't have gotten so excited to see you sleep, but he did. After all, he'd never seen you in such a relaxed state around him, and as he took a peek at your face, he physically had to stop himself from cooing out loud at how adorable you looked.

Woah, woah, woah. What?

The boy did a quick double take. When did he ever think his chemistry tutor was cute? Well, there was that one time he saw you scurrying down the hallway when you came to school late, there was that one time you sneezed on your way up to the whiteboard and looked a bit like a deer in headlights. There was also that one time he saw you giggle when you came across a quokka doodle in his notes and--oh my god that was basically 98% of his time with you and the other 2% was the time he was just staring at you from afar.

Gulping nervously, he slid into the chair next to you and very carefully placed his book bag on the table. To be honest, he was waiting for you to wake up on your own; with a brother named Changbin who was a literal demon if you even so much as nudged him while he was asleep, Jisung was well aware of the dangers of waking people up from naps. He wasn’t sure what type of riser you were, and he wasn’t going to find out.

But as the minutes ticked on and crept into your normal tutoring time, you still didn’t wake and Jisung just sat beside you, picking imaginary petals in his head to decide whether or not he should give your shoulder a light nudge. He wanted to, because he knew you’d probably get upset at him if you woke up later to find that the two of you had wasted precious time, but on the other hand, you did look quite exhausted, even more so than usual. The bags under your eyes seemed slightly more defined, and this nap looked like the first moment of decent sleep you’ve gotten in days.

Eventually, Jisung decided not to wake you. If you got angry, then he’d just promise to study on his own when he got back home. He could put off playing games with Felix for one night if it meant that you got some rest. When you made an expression of discomfort, he even shrugged off his bomber jacket, rolling it into a pillow before gently maneuvering it to replace the book you were sleeping on.

With nothing else to do, Jisung found himself spending much of that time on his phone, but he couldn’t help but take some of the other time to gaze at you. Now that you weren’t wacking him with a rolled up test that he failed or glaring at everyone, you actually looked quite innocent and peaceful. You looked even happy, and Jisung wondered what you were dreaming about.

But what really caught Jisung’s eye were your cheeks. With your face squished against your arm, your cheeks were puffed up adorably, and it took every ounce of self restraint for Jisung to not poke them at least once. They looked like little marshmallows, and as the minutes ticked on, Jisung found it harder and harder to control himself.

He even felt a little bit of jealousy curling in his gut. What moisturizer did you use? Why did your cheeks look softer than his?

“Oh, the two of you are still here!”

Jisung almost jumped out of his seat as the librarian peaked her head into the corner, “A-ah, yes!” He stumbled over his words nervously.

“Well, you better hurry out. I’m closing up in five,” she said before finishing up her rounds so she could leave for the day. Checking his phone, Jisung realized with a start that it was almost six in the evening, thirty minutes past when your normal tutoring session ended. He didn’t even notice.

He glanced over at you, who was still snoring away without a care in the world and his expression softened. Looks like he’d have to wake you up after all. He almost didn’t want to, but against his better judgement, he leaned towards you and gave your cheek a gentle little pinch, full of fondness that he didn’t even really understand yet.

“Y/N,” he murmured your name as softly as possible, his smiling widening as you let out a soft groan in response. Wow, your cheeks were fluffier than anything he’d ever touched before.

“What…?” you mumbled, eyes fluttering open as you sat up, gripping at Jisung’s jacket in confusion.

He smiled, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he ducked under your sleepy attempt to flick his forehead.

“What time is it?”

“Almost six,” Jisung said, helping you pack your book bag as you regained your bearings. As you finally managed to process where you were, your eyes widened almost comically.

“It’s almost six.”

Jisung laughed, “Yes? That’s what I just said?”

You shoved his jacket back at his chest, cheeks unnaturally hot, “Why didn’t you wake me up?!” Gosh, you were more than embarrassed. It was one thing to miss a tutoring session, it was another to sleep through it with your student literally right next to you. Especially when the student was Han Jisung.

He took his jacket back, still amused by how flustered you looked. In all the time he’d spent with you, he’d never seen you look so frazzled before, “I wanted to wake you, but you looked so tired!” Jisung explained, deciding to take the moment to try and reach out to you once more, “Is everything alright? You looked really drained. I noticed in class, too.”

You tensed up, not expecting Jisung to be so observant. No, scratch that, you knew Jisung was always observant, but you never thought that applied to you.

“I just have a little more on my plate now,” you explained the best you could without actually explaining.

Jisung felt a pang of disappointment. It was the blank wall to the face again, like he always got when he tried to get to know you better. Two steps forward, four steps back.

“But, regardless, you should've woken me up,” you continued, huffing at him as you reached into your bag to pull out your planner, “It's my fault for oversleeping, so let me know what time you'd like to reschedule--”

“Woah, woah,” Jisung waved his hands frantically, shaking his head, “Didn't you just say you have more on your plate now? You don't need to reschedule.”

You gave him an inquisitive stare and he physically had to hold back a gulp, “Are you just trying to get out of tutoring?” You asked, but he noticed that your voice didn't hold any edge to it, another red flag that you were probably a lot more exhausted than you let on.

“I'm not, I promise,” he held his arms up in surrender, “I'll go over the material and do the assignment myself. You can check it over next week!”

A moment of silence passed before you relented, placing the planner back in your bag with a sigh, “Okay, but the three mistake rule still stands. Got it?”

Jisung smiled, “Got it,” he said, grabbing his bag and standing up, “I won't let you down after all the help you've given me.”

“You really think this is helpful?” The surprise in your words spilled out despite your best attempts to keep your mask of passivity. Fuck, it was always Jisung that made you like this. Any other person would tried to tear down your mental walls, only for you to build them up twice as high and twice as thick. But Jisung--Jisung just walked past them like they didn't even exist.

“Um, yeah? My grades literally went from C’s to B’s and A’s because of you!” Jisung exclaimed, practically offended for your sake at the mere thought of your question, “If that isn't helpful, then what is?”

A dry chuckle left your lips as the two of you walked out of the library, “That isn't what I meant. Normally, people would say that I'm a bit...harsh? Overbearing? Un-fun?”

Jisung bit his lip, his eyes rounding with a mix of realization and guilt as he saw the expression on your face. You probably didn't even notice it as you looked up into the sky, but he could see it as clear as day. A bittersweetness that looked a bit like hurt, but it wasn't quite either.

So you did know of what people said about you, and it did affect you. The guilt festered in his chest as Jisung came to the painful realization that he was part of that group of judging before knowing only a few weeks before.

“Um!” Jisung blurted out rather clumsily, grabbing your attention as you turned to face him, “You're a good teacher. Y-yeah, sometimes you can be a bit strict, but people should know that you do it only because you want them to succeed!”

A moment of awkward silence passed between the two of you, and Jisung was about to disappear into the ground when you let out a giggle, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and failing to hide your amusement.

You laughed. You laughed because of him. You were smiling because of him. Jisung held your expression, your moment of happiness, close to his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to see it again.

“Thank you, Jisung,” you said after your giggles died and you stood before him, a bit of distance still between the two of you even though it wasn't quite as tense or awkward as before, “That means a lot to me, really.”

Jisung’s face lit up, and he nodded, “And I really mean what I said! I wouldn't have gotten so much better without you.”

Your cheeks felt unusually warm in the chilly evening, and you realized that you should probably make your escape soon before you found yourself falling more and more for this boy who wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Well, thank you again,” you said sincerely, clutching the strap of your book bag as you gave him a smile, already beginning to turn away, “I’m gonna head home, so I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Jisung felt the joy in his heart stutter a bit at the way you turned to glance down the road you were about to take, and his mouth worked before his brain, “Wait! I could give you a ride!” He blurted out before wanting nothing more than to bonk himself in the head.

“Oh?” You turned back around to face him as you crossed your arms, “You drive?”

“Uh, I have a bike, which is still faster than walking,” Jisung supplied the follow up information rather unhelpfully, but it made you smile nonetheless, “And you live close to Seungmin’s family bakery, right? I live right around there, too.”

There wasn’t much about that offer that you could really refuse, and you found yourself not wanting to anyway. You were still pretty exhausted and you were already dreading the walk back home.

And besides, a little extra time with Han Jisung never hurt anyone except for your poor heart, which was beginning to grow tired of fighting your obvious attraction for this boy.

“Alright,” you said, shifting your bag strap higher up your shoulder as you gestured, “lead the way.”

The ride was quite silent, but neither of you minded. If anything, you enjoyed the silence, and Jisung knew you enjoyed it, so he didn’t bother to pry or start conversation. With your hands resting on his shoulders for balance as you sat behind him on what was normally the basket rack, and with the sky loosing its pinkish tones and exchanging them for the dark blues and purples of night, everything felt strangely perfect and--dare you say it--romantic.

When you finally told Jisung to stop in the front of a house just a couple buildings down from Seungmin’s bakery, the air between the two of you had shifted somehow. It wasn’t a big change; you weren’t suddenly head over heels in love with him and he wasn’t suddenly filled with the urge to kiss you like they do in shoujo mangas, but there was a comfortable and mutual sense of affection for one another that didn’t need any pushing or rushing from either side. The two of you just...knew it somehow.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you swung your leg off and found yourself next to the bike, face to face with Jisung.

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled, leaning against the handle of his bike in a way that made him look deviously adorable. You bit your lip, hesitating for a second before reaching up with your fingers and giving his soft cheeks a light squish.

Huh, they were even softer than you’d imagined they would be.

Jisung’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, which snapped you out of your daze as you quickly pulled your hand away and cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Don’t forget to go over today’s chapter when you get home,” you said, trying to mask your embarrassment and keep your voice steady as you gave him one last smile before rushing into your house, fumbling a bit with the keys when you pulled them out of your bag.

Jisung stood in front of your house for a moment longer, his eyes dazed with surprise as he reached up to rub his cheek. Fuck, if you mess around with him like this any more, he’d be head over heels in love with you before the semester even ended.

And as Jisung biked back home, he didn’t even care that he actually lived in the opposite direction and he’d lied a bit in order to make sure you got back safe. Your smiles, your laughter, and your gentle retaliation for his earlier pinch of your cheek made it all worth it.

Jisung thought he had the cutest cheeks in the world, but he was pretty satisfied with being second best now.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids blurbs #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x y/n #han jisung blurbs #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #skz x reader #dream type: drabbles

473 notes · View notes

cocoswriting · 3 years

Note

lee wilbur, ler techno? maybe smth where wilbur’s being chaotic so techno takes him down a peg? you dont have to tho— /gen

Chaotic Mf

Summary; Basically what the ask says; Wilbur was being chaotic/creepy and needed to be taken down a peg. [PLATONIC. DO NOT TAG AS SHIP.]

Warning(s); This is a tickle fic! If you don’t like that kind of stuff, then I recommend you just scroll past.

“You put ecosystems in jars?..”

“Yeah,” Wilbur responded casually, laying upside-down on the couch opposite Techno. He had his legs curled over the back of the couch and his head was dangling off the edge—it was a wonder how he hadn’t gotten uncomfortable enough to shift positions yet. Wilbur seemed to have a strange habit of never sitting correctly when he was in one of his “chaotic” moods, always finding some weird way to rest instead. “I go out and collect mud, rocks, soil, and I put them inside the jar.” he explained, and Techno scrunched up his face both in confusion and mild disgust.

“And... this is a normal thing?” Techno asked disbelievingly, flipping a page in the book he had in his hands, though it wasn’t as if he was paying much attention to the text anymore. Wilbur nodded happily from across the room, grinning as he opened his mouth to continue explaining, only to get cut off by Techno. “Wil, I don’t really care. I’m tryn’ to read right now.”

Wilbur huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting in fake dismay and staring at Techno almost expectantly, even though the piglin was very clearly no longer looking at him. “Well, you should care,” the brunet replied with a sassy tone of voice, sounding akin to an annoyed child. “I swear I’m not the only one who does this! Ranboo does it too, or at least he did...”

“Ranboo did that—?... No, Wilbur, really, just talk about literally anythin’ else. I do not care about your jar ecosystems,” Techno was already used to dealing with Wilbur’s chaotic moods. They’d come in at random times, last a couple hours, and then eventually he’d lose all the excess energy he had and go back to “normal.” So it wasn’t as if he actually expected Wil to stop when he was told to—Techno knew he wouldn’t—but he figured he might as well try to change the topic that Wilbur would ramble on about. Honestly, Techno just wanted to read his book. “Can’t you bother someone else? It isn’t that late, Phil and Tommy are still up.”

Wilbur let out a loud, dramatic sigh followed by a shake of his head and a couple tutting sounds. “You’re no fun,” his tone was playful, indicative of the grin that was on his face, despite his words suggesting otherwise. “But fine! I’ll talk about something else.” Wilbur rolled himself over on the couch, sitting upright and then standing up to make his way over to the man sitting across from him. Techno tore his eyes away from the book and glanced up when he realised Wilbur had approached, raising an eyebrow and glaring half-heartedly at the musician.

“What?” Techno’s voice sounded tired, more tired than usual, but bore no real malice as he impatiently awaited Wilbur’s response.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?”

“Oh my god,” Techno looked down and rubbed his temples, dropping the book beside him and running one of his hands through his hair, groaning loudly. He heard Wilbur’s shrill laugh at his reaction, which was shortly followed by the sound of shuffling as he sat down next to the piglin and crossed his legs, seemingly prepping himself to start telling whatever story he wanted to tell Techno about. “Please.”

“I already told Phil about this one,” Wilbur began, biting back another laugh at Techno’s long sigh which came straight after. “So, there are these things called ‘weeping angels—!” Wil was quickly cut off by a rough jab to his side. He managed to force back any verbal reactions he might have given to the sudden electric tingly feeling that spread all throughout his side, but he couldn’t conceal the very obvious flinch and curling of his lips.

“You good?” Techno asked, having removed his hands from his face to shoot his brother a concerned glance. Wilbur felt heat rush to his face, but he couldn’t tell whether he’d paled, or gone red. “Did you...” He shifted closer to the brunet, cocking his head to one side. “You flinched,” The elder stated quite obviously, expression a mixture of curiosity and interest.

“You caught me off-guard,” Wilbur quickly stammered out, a sheepish half-smile spreading over his face. Techno frowned—and it was clear from just that gesture that he wasn’t buying it.

Techno placed one hand on his side and left it there, unmoving. Wilbur didn’t flinch that time, but he wanted to, his flustered state having raised his hypersensitivity to the point where he wanted to squirm even just imagining that Techno might find out. “I was just tryin’ to shut you up, you needa’ tell me what happened or I’ll assume that you’re hurt,” Techno said, beginning to slowly rub two(2) fingers in small circles on Wilbur’s side. The last part of his sentence came off as more of a threat to his brother—he didn’t want to worry Techno, but at the same time, getting found out like this would be so embarrassing.

“I-I’m not—“ Wilbur was cut off by a quiet gasp, but not quiet enough for Techno to let slip. One of Techno’s ears twitched at the sound and he made a gruff huffing noise, now reaching down to tug up the hem of his brother’s sweater, exposing the bottom half of his side. “Hey, I’m not hurt, okAY—!” Techno, being the oblivious bastard he was, began to rub gentle circles on Wilbur’s bare side, which elicited a comical noise sounding like a mix between a squeal and a yelp from the man. As Wil managed to squirm away from the tingles, butterflies erupted in his belly when he thought; there’s no getting out of this now.

Silence filled the room for a couple seconds, the gears turning in Techno’s head before it finally clicked, and he couldn’t help the smug expression that formed on his face when he realised what Wilbur had been trying to hide. “You’re ticklish,” he emphasised the ‘T-word’, causing Wilbur’s face to heat up even more, and the fact that Techno’s hand still remained hovering just ever-so-slightly above his side, was not helping. “How come I didn’t know this before? You keepin’ secrets from me, hm?” Techno shoved both of his hands up Wilbur’s shirt and gently ran his nails up and down his skin, eliciting a few snickers along with squeaks and he tried to muffle his giggles.

Wilbur frantically shook his head ‘no’ and looked down, his hair falling in front of his face and (thankfully) hiding his bright pink cheeks. Tingles and shockwaves of tickly sensations shot up his sides, the feeling only increasing the longer Techno’s fingers lingered in the same spot. “Well— you’re definitely much quieter now,” Techno remarked, and Wilbur opened his mouth to give a sassy response, only for a loud squeak to come out instead as the gliding nails began to gently scratch at each side of his back. He arched forward but shifted backwards, resting his back against the armrest and laying down. Wil had hoped this would quell the sensations at least a little, but it only made them worse, the little scratches becoming rougher as Techno’s fingers got trapped. “This seems like a good way to take you down a peg whenever you’re in one of your ‘chaotic’ moods.”

“N-no—hohahahaa!” As Techno moved his hands up to Wilbur’s ribs, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. High-pitched giggles flooded from Wilbur’s lips as he wriggled and squirmed, throwing his head back as his hands switched between trying to protect the targeted spots and trying to push Techno away. It wasn’t exactly working out for him, and eventually he just curled up, hoping to drown out the tickles somehow. It only got worse once he felt Techno begin to drill his thumbs into the spaces between each of the bones. “NOHO! DOHohon’t dohoho thahahat, plehehehahase!”

As Techno gazed down at the giggling boy, he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t melt at the sight of his bright, carefree smile. “Why not?~” His tone of voice was still deadpan, but it had a sing-songy edge to it this time. If Wilbur had the guts to muster up insults at the time, he would’ve called him every name in the book just as revenge for the horrible teases. “Does it tickle too much? Surely you can’t be that ticklish, right?~” Every time the T-word was mentioned Wilbur felt the pit in his stomach fill with more butterflies, and his blush began to slowly spread out to his neck and ears. “It’s your own fault for bein’ annoyin’.”

“Ihihihi wahahasn’t beheheing ahahannoying!” Wilbur insisted, his giggles slowly increasing as Techno’s fingers danced their way up his ribs, heading for his armpits. But before they could reach the spot, he instinctively slammed his arms down to protect himself, blocking the offending hands just in time. It seemed that Techno took this defensive action as provoking, because his immediate response to that was to sigh disappointedly and start skittering around Wil’s neck and shoulders, causing him to scrunch up like a turtle and begin to wriggle side-to-side in a weak attempt at escaping the tickles. “Nohohoho! Fuhuhuahahack ohohoff— yohohou’re sohoho mehehehehahan!”

“Mean? This isn’t mean,” Wilbur could hardly make out Techno’s words anymore, considering he was much more focused on the shocks of tickles and his own embarrassment. But once he heard those words leave his brother’s lips, he couldn’t help but start squirming even harder on top of squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t process what the words meant in his state—but he’s heard that tone before. And that tone means ‘you fucked up’. “You wanna see mean?” Techno asked rhetorically and Wilbur began frantically shaking his head, letting out giggly little “nononono”s as he tensed, prepping himself for the inevitable attack that would come next.

“AAAHAA!” Wilbur shrieked as he felt Techno’s lips make contact with his tummy, quickly followed by an explosion of tickles as he blew a raspberry, shaking his head during it to make it even worse. Wil bucked, cackled and squealed, only for his hips to get held down and mercilessly drilled into by two(2) of Techno’s fingers. All of his nerves felt like they were on fire, and he felt everything—every last pinch to his hips, every raspberry that was blown, and it was almost too much for him to handle. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving it. “NAHAHAHAAA! TEHEHEHAHAHAHA—!”

Even after Techno ceased the raspberries, he still seemed fully intent on being as merciless as possible. He continued to drill right into the dip of Wilbur’s hipbone, using his other hand to rapidly squeeze his tummy, never letting up and never slowing down. Wilbur had completely given up on trying to fight back, his arms were too tired for that now and he knew it was no use, so instead he began using his hands to cover his bright pink face with. “Oh, poor Wilbur,” Techno began, a very obviously feigned sympathetic tone in his voice. “Being tickled is just such a hard job.”

“SHUHUAHAHAT UHUHUHUP!” Wilbur forced out through his hysterics, helplessly rolling his torso back and forth, attempting to focus his attention on literally anything else other than the tickles he was receiving. He couldn’t decide if he loved or hated it—it was unbearable and maddening, he felt like he was being driven up a wall, but at the same time he had to admit that he was having fun. He was soaking up all the attention like a sponge. It didn’t take much longer before his laughter became wheezy and strained, though, and he’d decided he had enough. “O-OHOHOKAHAY! STOHOHAHAHAHAP, THAHAHAHAT’S ENOHOHOHOUGH—!”

Techno listened straight away, ceasing the tickles and backing away as Wilbur curled in on himself, hugging his midsection while trying to rid of the after-tingles that still remained. “You alright?.. was it too much?” Techno asked, reaching over to deliver a couple, comforting pats to Wilbur’s head. He would’ve leaned away if it weren’t for how exhausted he was from all his laughter. “...sorry,”

“N-noho, noho... it,” Wilbur knew he should be careful with his choice of words there. He didn’t want to give away how much he’d actually enjoyed himself, but at the same time, he was well aware he’d likely given that fact away while being tickled. He supposed there was no point in lying—especially if it would risk making Techno worry over nothing. “...wahas nice.”

There was no response for a couple seconds, but then the silence was interrupted by a snort coming from Techno, and Wilbur instantly knew what he would have found amusing. But as Techno gently ran his fingers through his hair, practically soothing Wilbur to sleep, he found he didn’t care as much as he did before.

They should do this again sometime.

#mcyt #dsmp #tickle #tickling #tickle fic #fic #ticklish!wilbur #lee!wilbur #ler!techno #ler!technoblade #requests

156 notes · View notes

bedlamsbard · 4 years

Text

I was originally planning to wait on posting any of this concept because I wanted to add more, but since I’m not sure when that’s going to happen and also we could probably use some nice Backbone AU Kanan/Hera, here are a couple of scenes from the field AU concept. This is a Backbone’verse AU, set while Hera is back at ISB HQ and Kanan’s off at the Crucible.

About 2.5K below the break.

Hera heard the cockpit hatch slide open behind her and had to resist the urge to scream. Chopper, tucked up near the nav console, let out a low rumbling noise of discontent that the intruder apparently decided to ignore.

“This is a pretty nice ride, Hera,” Markus Anjali said, oblivious of Chopper’s reaction. “Why don’t you –”

“Don’t sit there,” Hera snapped as he put his hand on the back of the co-pilot’s chair.

He looked at her in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because it’s my ship and I said so.” And because it was Kanan’s chair, and she couldn’t bear to see anyone else sit there.

Markus shrugged in elaborate unconcern and took the empty chair behind it instead. “So why don’t you fly this ship more?”

“I work in an office, Markus,” Hera said, willing him to go away. “The only thing I’m flying these days is a desk. I can’t exactly park the Ghost in the HQ speeder lot.”

“You could still hop over to one of the moons,” Markus suggested. “They have some nice resorts. In fact, after we get back to Naboo why don’t we –”

Hera was saved from having to turn him down again by Chopper impatiently telling them that they had reached Christophsis and were exiting hyperspace. Hera suspected they were a minute or two early, but that would still put them in the system and she wasn’t about to argue.

They came out of hyperspace a few hundred kilometers outside the Imperial blockade around the planet. Hera transmitted the Ghost’s transponder codes and received permission to continue her transit to the planet, along with an approach vector that she was warned to stick to or risk being destroyed. Since she had no intention of deviating, that wasn’t a problem. Markus chattered at her through the entire approach, while Hera resisted the urge to tell him to go back and join the other agents she was transporting. Or to shoot him. At this point she wasn’t picky.

She spotted the Imperial encampment as she entered the atmosphere and descended down towards the crystalline planet’s surface. A landing officer on the comm gave her directions to her parking spot and she angled the Ghost down towards it, sliding into a spot between a couple of other nondescript light freighters presumably piloted by other field agents. As she was powering down the Ghost’s systems, movement on the landing field outside the viewport caught her eye.

Hera froze with her hands still on the switches, then blurted out, “Chopper, finish up,” and threw herself out of her chair and down the ladder to the hold.

“Hera!” Markus called after her, but she didn’t look back.

She was down the ramp even before it had finished lowering, racing across the field to throw herself into Kanan’s arms. He caught her with only one staggered step back, his arms tight around her as Hera pressed her face against his chest and sobbed. After a moment she leaned up to kiss him frantically, looping her arms around his neck to pull him close to her. He was clean-shaven, with scars on his cheeks and jaw that hadn’t been there before, and his long hair had been cropped short to reveal a notch taken out of one ear. But it was him, it was him, he was here.

He cupped her face between his palms, his eyes wide with startled delight. “What are you doing here?” he asked. There was a hesitant note to his voice, as if he wasn’t entirely used to speaking anymore.

“I was assigned – I brought a load of agents from Naboo,” Hera said. “And I was assigned here. What are you doing here?”

“I was assigned here,” Kanan said, echoing her. He kissed her again, then enfolded her into another hug, his arms tight across her shoulders. Hera leaned her head against his leather-clad chest, vaguely aware of his unfamiliar black uniform and the metal cylinder hanging from his belt. She was too relieved and overwhelmed by having Kanan here at all, not when she hadn’t expected to see him for months more. Or ever.

“Hera?” Markus’s voice said from behind her. He sounded utterly baffled.

She felt Kanan stiffen, but made herself straighten up and turn around anyway. Markus was staring at her with confused betrayal in his eyes, with Cado and Leshan just behind him.

“Isn’t that –” Leshan began, before Markus blurted out, “I thought you didn’t like men.”

“You didn’t think I liked men and you still kept trying to sleep with me?” Hera demanded, too startled by that to think about her response before speaking. Kanan went, if possible, even more still; Hera reached behind herself to find his hand with one of hers.

Floundering, Markus said, “Well – I mean – you’ve turned everyone down – and that guy you were supposed to be – I mean – I thought he might not be – uh – real.”

Hera stared at him, speechless.

“I thought – maybe you just – uh – needed to –”

“Stop talking,” Leshan told him firmly, seizing him by the arm and thrusting him back towards Cado, who caught him effortlessly and slapped a hand over his mouth when Markus made to protest. She stepped forward and said, “Hera, I didn’t know your man was –”

Still among the living was the obvious end to that, but she finished with “here” instead, flicking an inquisitive look at Hera.

“I – I didn’t either,” Hera admitted. “I didn’t think – I thought you would still be –” She glanced at Kanan, glanced at Leshan’s curious expression, and faltered.

“Usually,” Kanan said, looking down at her. If he was aware of the others, he didn’t show it, all of his attention focused on her. “My ma – my teacher’s been on this op with me, but he had to go back a few weeks ago, so right now it’s just me.”

“Your –” Hera considered their audience and decided to leave that for another time. “I have to go check in. Will you come find me later?”

“Of course.” He ducked his head and kissed her quickly. “I love you,” he added, his voice low, the words just for her.

Hera smiled up at him, giddy. “I love you too,” she said, then reluctantly released him. She watched him walk away, raising a hand briefly in greeting to Chopper, who was perched at the top of the Ghost’s ramp, until he disappeared behind the hull of another ship.

Almost as soon as he was out of sight, Markus burst out, “You and an Inquisitor?”

Hera looked back at him. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she said, and went to go find the camp commander so she could report in.

Major Beck, the ISB agent in charge of the operation, had clearly already heard about her arrival, and eyed Hera askance as she came into the command module to check in. But she didn’t comment on the way Hera had greeted Kanan and granted her permission to sleep on the Ghost, rather than assigning her one of the two to four person tents the other ISB agents on the operation were staying in. The concession left Hera grateful; she had had more than her fair share of rooming with other people back at the Academy and didn’t want to do it again. Especially with Kanan here.

“Besides, it will keep your astromech out of the way,” Beck said dryly, handing over a couple of datachips with the most up-to-date information on the operation that Hera was classified for. Chopper had become infamous at ISB HQ shortly after Hera’s arrival and had been banned from the premises unless explicitly requested soon after that.

Hera bit her lip, not certain whether to smile or not. “Yes, ma’am.”

As Hera was turning to go, Major Beck added, “Agent Syndulla. I would be very careful with him if I was you.”

Hera looked back at her, wondering if she was still talking about Chopper. “Ma’am?”

“Be very careful with that man,” Major Beck repeated, and Hera realized that she was talking about Kanan. “He’s not safe. He’s not entirely sane. He might have been once, but he isn’t anymore. A physical relationship with him isn’t against regulations, and I understand that you two have a history, but be very, very careful.”

“Ma’am, I –” Hera had absolutely no idea how she was going to end that sentence, but Major Beck waved a hand to dismiss her before she had to figure it out. She left the module feeling confused and a little concerned, then spotted Markus outside with Cado, Leshan, and the other agents Hera had ferried over. Hera ducked around the side of the module before Markus could look over and spot her, nearly running over a stormtrooper as she did so. His double-take as he registered first her uniform and rank badge, then her skin color and lekku, would have been comical if Hera hadn’t been so distracted; as it was, she returned his belated salute absently and stepped around him to hurry down the pathway between the command module and the one next to it.

She didn’t spot Kanan as she familiarized herself with the camp, ignoring the stares she got from troopers and agents who didn’t expect to see a Twi’lek in an ISB uniform. It was the first time that Hera had ever been on a major field operation – when she had been a cadet, she had been mostly used to the stares, but that had been a long time ago now. In the Imperial Complex back on Naboo she only seldom ventured out of the ISB building, and everyone there knew who she was even if most of them thought that she shouldn’t be there. At least here her uniform was proof enough of her identity; she had a recurring problem with other Imperials not believing she was one of them whenever she was in civilian clothes.

Since the Ghost hadn’t been stocked up before she left, she stopped in at the mess tent to get dinner, managing to slip out just as she Markus come in with Cado and Leshan. She didn’t feel like talking to them right now, since she suspected that the only topic of conversation would be Kanan. She took the boxed-up dinner back to the Ghost and sat in the empty lounge to eat it and read over the files Major Beck had given her, ignoring Chopper as he rolled around, cleaning up grumpily after the agents that had been onboard earlier. This was punctuated by loud protests that he was an astromech, not a cleaning droid; since Hera hadn’t given him any instructions to clean anything she didn’t bother to weigh in. She resisted the urge to go and sit in the cockpit or the gunner’s bubble so that she would have a view of the landing field, trying to make herself concentrate on the files. There was no guarantee that she would be assigned to this operation for any period of time, since she was mostly here as a glorified hoverbus driver in the first place; after the incident with Agent Sarkos on Garel it had been made very clear to her that she wasn’t trusted in the field.

She had finished eating and put the remains in the galley to deal with later when she heard the hatch open down below and then close almost immediately. Chopper grumbled, wary, and Hera scrambled to her feet, abandoning her datapad as she hurried to the ladder leading down to the hold. She had code-locked the hatch; there was only one other person who could get in.

Kanan was standing in the hold when she reached the bottom of the ladder, looking around as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was really there. He turned as Hera came towards him, looking tired and ill in the artificial lights in a way he hadn’t in the fading sunlight a few hours ago. Hera walked into his arms, holding him close against her as he pressed his face down into her shoulder.

They held onto each other, neither speaking, for what felt like a long time. Hera finally released him so that she could cup his face between her palms and take a good, long look at him, studying his features now that she wasn’t as overwhelmed by seeing him again as she had been the first time. He looked terrible.

“It’s all right,” Hera told him. “I’m here now. It’s all right.” She kissed him gently, then drew him in the direction of the ship’s upper levels.

They curled up together in the lounge, Kanan turning his face wearily against her shoulder like he couldn’t bear to look at her or anything else. “Do you want to talk about it?” Hera asked him softly.

He shook his head. “Do you?”

“No.” Hera pressed a kiss to his forehead. She could tell that he was thinner than he had been beneath his black leathers and that some of the scars on his face were old, some more recent. There were fading bruises on his neck beneath the high collar of his shirt, and a black mark that Hera didn’t want to look at too closely.

Kanan put his face back down against her shoulder and sighed. “Are you all right?” he asked her. “That other agent said –”

“I’m all right,” Hera assured him. “I’m bored and I hate everyone, but I’m all right.” She didn’t want to tell him about getting alternately propositioned and ignored, or about crying herself to sleep every night, or the fact that she had barely been able to look at the Ghost and had kept her feet firmly dirtside for the past four months. At least she didn’t have any new scars or bruises.

“Bored is better than some things.” Kanan turned his head a little to kiss her neck – not amorously, but as if he wanted to kiss her and it was the closest patch of bare skin he could reach without moving. “I’m very tired,” he added wearily.

“Can you spend the night?” Hera asked him. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but having him here and having to sleep in an empty bed seemed like unreasonable cruelty.

He nodded. “My master won’t be back for another week at the earliest,” he said. After a moment he raised his head again, his eyes bright as he studied her face, and added, “I missed you so much.”

Hera leaned in to kiss him. “Your clothes are here,” she murmured. “All your things –”

Panic flashed across his eyes, so briefly that Hera half-thought she had imagined it. “I’ve got clothes,” he said. “They’re just all black.”

“Not your color,” Hera said, and he bit his lip in something that was vaguely akin to a smile.

“Not really.”

She laid her hand against the side of his face and kissed him again. “Will you come to bed with me?”

He nodded, then hesitated. “I can’t – don’t –”

Hera kissed him. “I’m tired too,” she said. “Come on, love. Let’s go to bed.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #kanera field au tag #as always comments are appreciated

36 notes · View notes