#ticklish!nott

[amazingmsme]

Tic-Tac-TOE

AN: tickletober day 2- drawn on. Nott is severely underrated in this community so I had to show her some love! Hope you enjoy! 

"Nott. Oh Noooott. Nott the Braaaaave."

Nott's eyes blearily blinked open, the fuzzy outline of Jester coming into focus. She cleared the sleep from her voice before attempting to speak.

"Oh, hello Jester. Did I sleep too long? Do we have to get on the road?" she asked, sitting up. Jester shushed her and guided her back down on her bedroll.

"Sh sh, no we don't have to go yet," she soothed.

"Oh, that's good. Wait a minute... WHY THE HELL DID YOU WAKE ME UP?" she screeched, throwing herself back under her blankets and curling into a ball on her side. Jester couldn't help but giggle.

"Weeell, Caleb said you'd been feeling a little sad lately, so he asked if I could use some of my classic charm to cheer you up!" she chirped happily. Nott grumbled under her breath, pulling the blanket higher over her head. Unfortunately, this made her feet stick out of the covers and a cold shiver ran through her body. Jester eyed the bare feet with mischief sparkling in her eyes.

"I'm fine Jester, thanks for the concern. But I'll feel much happier once I finish my nap," she said pointedly. Jester was already digging through her brushes and paints, humming along to act like she was listening. Though she really wasn't.

"Well Caleb asked me to do something about it, and I won't let him down. You've been so grouchy lately," she teased, grabbing an ankle and wiggling her pinky toe. Nott jerked underneath the covers with a startled giggle. Her head flew out of the blanket to stare at her with wide eyes.

"Jester! What do you think you're doing?" She only shrugged innocently in response to the question.

"I just think you'd be like, a lot happier if you had some super cute doodles on your feet. So you can look down at them, make up funny little voices, you know. That stuff," she supplied helpfully. A dark green blush spread across Nott's cheeks. She crossed her legs in an attempt to hide her feet.

"Funny, that's like, the complete opposite of what I'd like you to do," she sassed, a startled squeal slipping out when Jester grabbed her feet. "Wahait can't we talk about this?"

"Oh but there's nothing to talk about. I already talked it over with the Traveler, and he said this was definitely the best way to cheer you up," she said casually as she already started drawing a face on her big toe. Nott immediately started giggling and scrunched up her foot. Jester tutted and shook her head, grabbing her toe and pulled it back to stretch out her sole.

"Ohoho nohoho, d-don't lihihisten to him! Hehe doesn't know ahahanythihing!" she screeched, throwing the blanket over her head, as if that would help. Jester gasped and scribbled across her feet with more purpose, drawing out a loud snort.

"Nott, how can you say such a thing? I have to tickle you extra long now for dissing the Traveler," she said, voice full of mock pity. Nott kicked her legs as much as she could, her voice bordering on banshee levels of screeching.

"NOHOHO I'M SOHOHORRY!" she immediately apologized through hysterics. Jester giggled along with her friend as she doodled tiny faces on each of Nott's toes.

"This is papa toe, and here's mama toe, you really need to stop squirming or else it's going to get all smudged," Jester interrupted herself in a deadpanned voice to scold her.

"Ihihi cahahan't! Ihihit's ahawful!" she cried, squirming around in an attempt to escape.

There was a quick knock on the inn door before it opened. "Is everything alright in here?" Fjord's concerned voice came from the doorway.

"Fjord! Fjojohord hehehelp mehehe!" Nott desperately pleaded for his aid. He smirked, walking into the room fully.

"Jester? What uh, what're you doing?" he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his tone.

"Caleb said that Nott was feeling a little glum and asked if I could do anything to cheer her up. And I talked it over with the Traveler and he said this was definitely the way to go," she answered cheerfully, drawing a grid along the sole of her foot. The poor goblin girl let out a squeal of laughter.

"Well if he says so. Seems like it's doing her good; I don't think I've ever seen her laugh this much," he teased, crouching next to Jester.

"Fjohohord dohohon't be an ahahass! Hehehelp mehehe!" Nott demanded. Jester shoved a fountain pen in his hand and nodded enthusiastically.

"You heard her, help me!" she insisted.

Fjord looked between the tiefling's evil grin and the hysterical goblin between them. "Uh..."

"Oh come on, you even said she needs to laugh more," Jester reasoned. And well, he couldn't really argue with that.

"Sorry Nott, but she does have a point," he smirked, following Jester's lead and drawing faces on her toes. She screamed with tormented laughter, pounding a fist on the ground.

"Oh, I know! Let's play tic tac tooooeeee," she sang, wiggling Nott's pinkie toe. She screeched, shaking her head rapidly.

"DOHOHON'T YOU FUCKING DAHAHARE!" she screamed while Jester already started drawing the game board. She started off by marking the center box with an X.

Nott's leg jerked away and Fjord held it down so he could draw a circle in the box next to it, right in the center of her arch. She snorted, burying her face in the covers. Jester cooed and shot her hands under the blanket to squeeze her sides. She could only laugh and flop around like a fish out of water.

"Jester, it's your turn," Fjord reminded. She popped back out, fixing her hair and giving Nott a moment to breathe.

"You two are the fucking worst!" she cried out dramatically when Jester scooped her ankle back up. She scratched another X in the top left corner on the ball of her foot, nearly getting kicked in the jaw.

"Wow, you're pretty ticklish Nott! But don't kick my face, okay?" Jester asked sweetly, scratching between her toes innocently. She howled out for the only one who could save her. The only one who would save her rather than join in.

"CAHAHAHALEHEHEB! CAHALEB HEHEHELP MEHEHE!" she screamed as loud as she could. It felt like eons, but in reality Caleb appeared in the doorway 15 seconds later.

"Alright, party's over," he said with a soft smile and a warm look in his eyes. Jester pouted.

"But we're in the middle of a game!"

"You heard the man! You're finished!"

Jester stared at her for a long moment with a cheshire grin, tail lashing around behind her back. Then she pounced and Nott screamed before she could realize it was just a normal hug.

#tickletober #tickletober 2022 #nott brenatto #nott the brave #jester lavorre #fjord stone #caleb widogast #critical role #critical role fic #critickle role #critickle role fic #ticklish!nott #day 2: drawn on #there's no ticklish!nott content so i had to ammend that mistake

[thebest-medicine]

Day 15: Tickle Fight

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - C2 Mighty Nein - lee!Beau, lee!Mollymauk

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[read on AO3]

A/N: Little mighty nein snippet of a friendly spar between Molly and Beau that turns into a tickle fight

Words: 450

—

Beau nearly has Molly on the floor, when Jester betrays her and changes the direction of the fight with just two words.

“Try tickling!” Jester suggests excitedly with a cheer from the sidelines. 

“No—” Beau starts, and Molly makes a happy little sound, wriggling his arms and trying to get a grip on her. “No no no no no- don’t you even- naHA get OFF!” Beau cries. “Fuck you! Ahah no no NO—”

Beau goes rigid for a few long moments before struggling away from Mollymauk in an awkward dance. “No— you bahahahastard! Stop!” 

“Of course, soon as you admit defeat!

“NnnHH- no!” Beau huffs out just before she breaks down into full on laughter, her knees buckling and sending both her and Molly to the floor. 

There’s a scramble, limbs flying everywhere as Mollymauk fights to keep his advantage. Both of them shout as they laugh and tussle across the floor. Beau deflects a hand only for the other to appear at her other side, and then once she has them both a tail flicks over the back of her neck. She growls in frustration and tries to grab all of Molly’s extremities at once. He gives her a goofy, vicious grin. 

Molly is pushing his way back onto Beau and tickling again when a finger flicks up Molly’s foot and he jolts unexpectedly. Flipping around, Molly scans for where the intruding tickle came from, he has Beau’s hands preoccupied up here… Fjord grins back at him triumphantly. Yasha is smiling too, a little stern wiggle of her eyebrow and her finger scratches down his sole again. Molly yelps, before his foot is snatched up into the crook of Yasha’s arm. 

“Wait—” Molly gulps.

Beau cheers as Molly flails off of her, trying to twist his leg out of Yasha’s grip. To his dismay, Fjord reaches for his other ankle and hastily tows it in. 

“Shitshitshit no— I-I was winning!” Molly complains, laughter edging into his voice. 

Beau scrambles all the way free of a now distracted Mollymauk and turns and starts to dig into his ribs in retaliation. Molly shrieks at the unexpectedly quick turn of his luck.

“Tickle fight!!!!” Jester shrieks with a huge smile before pile driving her way into the fray. 

“Nonono wait! F-fuck you! Fuck you fuckyoufuckyoufuck—” Beau’s voice cuts off into a bitten off squeal of laughter. Mercifully, her hands draw back from tormenting Molly to try to protect herself from the unexpected turn of events. He kicks his way free and launches himself backward to pluck at Yasha’s ribs. 

Caleb and Nott give each other a soft smile, staying out of the fray for the time being. 

#tickletober 2023 #tickletober23 #ticklish!beauregard #ticklish!mollymauk #critickle role #mine #cr #critical role #m9 #mighty nein #tickle fight #day 15 #augtickletober2023 #tickletober2023butits2024 #late but great #tickling #tickle fic #sparring #tickles #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb fjord and nott mention

[august-anon]

Girl's Night

For Tickletober Day 8: Truth

-----

Fandom: Critical Role

Ship(s): None!

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Beau, Ler!Molly and Ler!Jester

Word Count: 769 words

Summary: What would Truth or Dare be without a little Zone of Truth? A lot more chaotic, as Beau finds out -- but it is her fault for letting the spell run out.

[ao3 link]

----------

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

Molly grunted with effort as he tried to climb atop Beau’s waist. “If you hadn’t danced around the question for so long that the spell wore off, we wouldn’t need to test it, would we?”

“Yeah, Beau!” Jester whined, trying to get a grasp on Beau’s wildly swinging arms. “And that was totally my last spell slot today!”

Beau spat out a litany of curses as Jester caught a wrist – clearly her inebriation was catching up with her. “Why do we even need the stupid fucking Zone of Truth in the first place?”

“Because of liars like you and me, dear.”

“Yeah, Beau! You can’t just lie in Truth or Dare – that’s like, the whole point!”

“You’re ruining the sanctity of Girl’s Night!” Nott cried out, and Beau couldn’t even see Nott anymore from her vantage point of the ground, but Nott had quickly moved into third place on her List. Jester and Molly were currently tied for first and second.

Beau let out a frustrated roar as Molly and Jester finally trapped her. With all the booze in her system, she wasn’t coordinated to buck Molly off, and even sober she wouldn’t have been able to beat Jester’s strength. She shot a desperate look over toward her last hope.

“Aren’t you going to, I don’t know, help me?”

Yasha stared at the three of them impassively, squinting her eyes as though she was thinking very hard about the question. “No,” she said flatly, slowly bringing her ale up to her lips.

Beau gaped at her.

Molly clicked his tongue. “Looks like you’re all ours.”

“You’re fucking dead, Tealeaf.”

“If you had just told us the truth in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Who the fuck answers that question?”

Jester blinked down at her. “Uh, me. I’m, like, super duper ticklish. It’s so much fun! Right, Molly?”

Molly nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Oh, of course. I am too, loads of fun – both sides of it, really.”

Beau sputtered for a moment. “Yeah, well, you two don’t count!”

“I’m ticklish, too,” Yasha said. “I don’t love it like they do, but I don’t mind it.”

Beau gaped at her again. Yasha shrugged.

“See?” Molly said. “Not so hard.”

Jester gasped. “Maybe we just have to tickle her until she says that she is!”

“No!”

“Oh, I love the way you think, Jester.”

Before Beau could curse the two of them out again, tiefling claws were crawling up her sides and down her arms. She held off as long as she could, but soon enough Jester’s claws were in her armpits and Molly’s fingers were pinching at her waistline and she broke. She spat out curses and threats between the laughter that bubbled out, but judging by her friends fond smiles, she wasn’t making much progress.

And the worst part was – she didn’t hate it. She’d never admit it even under pain of death, but Beau didn’t necessarily hate her friends tickling her. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the silly atmosphere they’d created to give Jester her first real “Girl’s Night,” but, well, it was actually kind of… fun. Dammit, now she had a new question to avoid under Zone of Truth at all costs – and knowing Jester, it would be asked. But maybe, if she waffled around and refused to answer again, she would get this again without having to ask for it.

But tough, stubborn reputation or not, Beau was fucking plastered and she didn’t have the stamina to handle an extended tiefling tickle attack. She gave them a few minutes to have their fun – and a mirth-filled few minutes it was, seeing as they’d found tickle spots Beau didn’t even know she had – but before long, she was giving into their demands.

“Fucking – okay! I’m fucking ticklish, alright? Cut it out!”

Jester pulled back immediately, her smile wide and beaming and bright enough that Beau had to look away. Molly took his damn sweet time, skittering his claws back towards his own body, poking a few sweet spots on his way for good measure. Beau laid there boneless as Jester released her wrists and Molly slowly crawled off her hips. 

“You know,” Yasha said, slicing through the silence as she took another slow sip of ale, “you should try his ribs.”

Beau’s eyes shot to Molly’s. He swallowed, bringing his hands up in a placating motion.

“Now, now – let’s not be hasty.”

Beau lunged, a dangerous smile on her face. “Your turn.”

Needless to say, they had several noise complaints by the end of the night.

#tickle fic #tickletober #augtickletober2023 #tickletober 2023 #my writing #critickle role #lee!beau #ler!mollymauk #ler!jester #ticklish!beau #critical role #cr #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre #mollymauk tealeaf #yasha nydoorin #nott the brave

[thelavendersquid]

No Words Needed

In which Caleb fails his intimidation check and the Nein use their squishy wizard as a distraction. Critickle role fic!

Fandom: Critical Role (The Mighty Nein)

Words: 2,938

AO3 link

A/N: Listen, I ship Caleb with laughing and being loved and I simply could not handle the silliness of him hanging upside down by his ankles without doing something about it. So here’s my take on an alternate version of the rope trap scene in episode 50. 

“You do not want to tangle with the spirits I command!” Caleb snaps his fingers as he says this, summoning both his cat and four floating globules of light into existence in front of him. The swoosh of his hand to cast comes out a bit harder than he intends, and he can feel himself swing side to side with a bit more intensity. His coat falls down even further and he chokes on the end of his sentence, coughing as both his coat and a bit of dislodged dirt from the cavern ceiling fall right onto his face. Frumpkin lands sideways on the ground a few feet away, letting out an indignant yowl. Somewhere to his left, Caleb can hear Beauregard fail to stifle a snort.

There’s a tense pause. Then - cackles. The pack of kobolds are nudging each other and pointing at the slowly swinging Caleb, hooting and hollering with laughter. In between the kobold cackles, Caleb can hear the muffled chuckles of his friends.

This is unfortunate.

Caleb reaches up quickly, trying to push his coat back down. Unsuccessfully. It slumps right back down in his face.

As he does this, the armored kobold leader turns to look at the pack over his shoulder, a crooked but sharp grin appearing on his face as he waves his shortsword towards the slowly swinging prey right in front of him. There’s an almost-palpable electric excitement crackling in the air. Caleb can barely hear the words he speaks next, but he recognizes them - he’s too disoriented to tell if it’s through his spell or because they’re in Common, but it doesn’t really matter. They make his blood run cold either way.

“Get large food! Go!”

Immediately there's a whooping battle cry that rings throughout the cavern, and with a swoosh Caleb feels himself swing backwards wildly as several kobolds leap forward, their claws finding purchase on his body. He grimaces and brings his hands up to block, readying himself for an attack.

There’s a flurry of movement to his left as the rest of his party is spurred into action as well. Caleb hears Fjord summoning the falchion with a whoosh. Nott nocks an arrow into her crossbow swiftly and lifts it up, ready to fire. Beau is in a battle-ready position instantly, lurching forward.

The kobold leader spins to face them, shortsword out. “No touch food! We eat you next, huh?”

It’s at this point that Caleb’s focus is yanked away from whatever his friends are doing - by a sudden, startling, feeling on his side. He’s halfway through the hand motions for Fire Bolt - aiming for the rope in hopes of burning through it to free himself - but he drops his hands on instinct, trying to swat away the kobold that is currently using it's back feet to cling onto him while it digs around in his book holsters. The kobold only clings on tighter, and its tiny, sharp claws prod deeper into Caleb’s ribs. Caleb chokes on a yelp and squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

He had forgotten about this particular sensation. It's been years since he felt it, and a large part of him assumed that he would never feel it again - that he would never be allowed to feel it again. He had put it out of his mind, locked the memory away in one of the many dark corners of his mind.

But here, with the kobold nails scratching against his sides, there’s no ignoring it.

Those claws really fucking tickle.

And Caleb is possibly even more ticklish than he remembers.

He clenches his hands into fists and bites down on his tongue. He needs to keep that particular bit of information out of his friends hands.

The kobolds are really scouring his form now - digging through any and every pocket and poking and prodding around his holsters and down his legs all the way to his ankles. Their nails are sharp but they no longer hurt - they’ve moved on to a far worse feeling. One that has Caleb squirming side to side in a desperate attempt to get away and forces him to bite down hard on his lip to keep a snort at bay. Scheiße, this is not good. He needs to get out of this rope.

Suddenly Caleb feels a firmer poke in his ribs. He yelps without thinking, and looks over to see…oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

A larger kobold, wearing a mischievous grin. Jester. Right next to him, eyes bright, and one finger held out in his direction.

Caleb opens his mouth to say something - and promptly closes it again, swallowing a gasp that feels a bit too much like a giggle for his liking, as a kobold pokes a particularly sensitive spot next to his holsters. He bites his cheek. He do it. He can brace against this.

Jester giggles at him and turns to the small cluster of kobolds watching her in awe. “Little me’s! C’mere, c’mere!” She wiggles her fingers in the air - an action that has Caleb flinching even though it's not directed at him (yet, his mind helpfully supplies, and he shivers). The kobolds scuttle forward, looking curious but still hesitant. Jester repeats the action, wiggling her fingers rapidly through the air and pointing towards Caleb. Wiggling, pointing. The kobolds creep closer still. Caleb squeezes his eyes shut at the last second.

And promptly opens them again with a shriek he can't manage to stifle, as ten tiefling claws scribble over his exposed side.

Jester’s laugh completely blows her kobold cover. She turns back to the actual kobolds - who have leaped back, snickering, at this sudden noise - and gestures for them to join her. They jump forward and land right on Caleb, claws out and wiggling, mimicking Jester’s movements. Jester, still laughing, dives right back into tickling up and down Caleb's sides, around to his stomach, and up towards his ribs.

And Caleb cracks. Laughter bursts from his throat and he dissolves into cackles. “Jehehehehe-ster! Bitte, nohohoho, dohohohon’t!

Jester just giggles along. “But Cay-leb! This is so much fun!” Her claws never stop moving. And Caleb can’t stop laughing. He’s swinging side to side, desperately searching for purchase along the wall, reaching for the ground, anything to get away from all these claws.

No luck. The rope around his ankles keeps him firmly suspended, and as the dozens of claws from both kobold and tiefling scribble and wiggle and poke and prod over every inch of his body, all Caleb can successfully manage to do is laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And find himself hoping beyond hope that this will never end because it’s quite possibly the most fun he’s ever had.

A screech leaves his lips as he feels a sudden pinch to his hip - and he immediately takes that thought back as he looks over to see Beauregard grinning at him, hands poised over his hips. Nope, no, there's no way he’s making it out of this alive. He’s going to die. Of laughter or embarrassment, he's not yet sure. Possibly both.

Beau can’t hide a laugh at the look on Caleb’s face when he sees her. Then her hands are flying up and down his sides with terrifying monk speed, pinching and squeezing and seeking out every possible ticklish spot with horrifying Cobalt Soul precision. And Caleb’s vision goes white. His brain feels like fuzz and static. He’s gone, lost in a world of mirth, where there is nothing but laughter and ticklishness and more laughter. He gives up trying to bat Jester and the kobolds away and drops his arms down, covering his face.“Bitte, Jehahahahahester, bitte, plehehehehehahahahaha-ease!” He doesn't know whether he's begging her to stop or keep going.

Luckily for him, Jester does not take any time to find out. She, Beau, and the kobolds all lock onto the newly exposed spot at the same moment, and the next thing Caleb knows there are at least fifty fingers and claws in his armpits. His laughter, impossibly, kicks up another notch and his face feels like it’s going to crack in half from how wide he’s beaming. That's it, he is quite sure this is how he’s going to die.

But he can’t quite bring himself to wish it would end.

A few feet away, Fjord, Nott and Yasha have slowly lowered their weapons and are watching this show with puzzled looks. Caduceus lowers his staff, a smile on his face. “Well that's nice.” He beckons to the nearest kobold. “Hey. Do you have a bag? I can fill it with food if you do.” The kobold scuttles over, carrying a large sack, and the soft glow of Caduceus’ magic lights the interior of the chamber as he fills it with food. The kobold’s face shifts into a look of amazement as it reaches out, tasting a piece.

There’s a sudden screech - blending into the sound of Caleb’s own cackling laughter ringing in the chamber - as the kobold leader leaps forward, slapping the hand away. Caleb stops fully paying attention around then - as someone’s fingers find their way onto his neck and another set worms their way beneath his chin and he’s lost again to silly giggles - but he barely makes out a conversation happening between Fjord, Caduceus, Nott and the kobold leader. He thinks he catches the words ‘gator skins’ - but it’s hard to tell when his own skin is being merciless attacked with scratches, pokes and wiggling fingers and his brain is still laughter mush.

An eternity later (exactly thirty-eight seconds, Caleb’s mind fills in), a whistle cuts through the laughter. Fjord’s gruff voice follows. “Mighty Nein! C’mon, we’re done here. Let’s get moving.”

Jester slows her fingers to a crawl - but does not pull them away, which is almost worse - and turns to Fjord with a pout. “Aww, but Fj-ord! We're having so much fun! Aren’t we, Caleb? Aren’t we, little me’s?”

The kobolds don’t respond, just continue their wiggling and tickling over every inch of Caleb they can reach, chirping and grunting to each other. And Caleb, still lost in giggles, could never hope to respond himself.

He does, however, notice Beau pull her own hands away - thank the gods - and rest a hand on Jester’s shoulder. “C’mon, Jes. We can finish tickling Caleb senseless later. We don't need the rope, he's easy to catch.”

Jester heaves a sigh but pulls away. Beauregard reaches up with a shuriken and cuts the rope, leaving Caleb to drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He rolls onto his back, still laughing, as about half the kobolds run, cackling, back to the pack, carrying coin and other various supplies they’ve stolen from him. Several others remain, claws still wiggling against Caleb as he rolls side to side on the ground with his arms wrapped around his sides in an attempt to shield whatever he can manage.

Jester shoos them off. “That's enough, that’s enough! Go on, go, go.” The kobolds scatter away from the laughing wizard quickly, before turning to watch Jester almost reverently from a short distance away.

Caleb throws his arms over his beet-red face, gasping for air. Jester bends down over him, still wearing that ear-to-ear grin. “Caleb! You’re really, super ticklish!”

Caleb says nothing, still shaking with residual giggles. Jester giggles along and takes hold of his hands, pulling them away from his face. Caleb groans and turns his face away from her, attempting to hide it in the dirt floor. Jester just giggles again and dips forward to lay on top of him, giving him a one-sided hug and a gentle kiss on his cheek, which sends his face flushing red again.“Did you have fun? Because we sure did!”

Caleb rolls over to face away from her as soon as she sits back up. His giggles are trailing off but that pesky, wide grin stays persistently on his face. He takes a deep breath, catching his breath. “‘Fun’ would not be the word I’d choose, but…scheiße, Jester, you certainly have a talent for torture.”

There's a sudden skittering sound from across the room as a few of the kobolds that had been watching their large kobold goddess suddenly rush towards her and the exhausted wizard. Caleb flinches on instinct. But the claws aren't tickling anymore. They’re copying Jester's actions - resting their hands on his and leaning in to lick his face. It doesn’t tickle - but it’s so silly, and Caleb can’t help but laugh despite himself.

Jester squeals at this sight. “Aw-eeee! Look, they love you Caleb!”

Caleb bats the kobolds away. He still has not managed to stop smiling. “Ja. Maybe. Anyway, we need to get moving before they decide to - ah, eat me.”

“Aww, no, they won’t eat you, will you?” Jester is now cooing at the kobolds that are still trying to snuggle around Caleb. She turns back to Caleb, flashing him that bright, mischievous grin. “They were definitely probably going to do that before though. I definitely kept them from eating you.”

“I might have preferred that, actually,” Caleb mutters. He’s pushing himself up from the ground. Still attempting to cover that persistent leftover smile that dances underneath his beard, as he looks up to find Beauregard staring at him.

Beau gives him a smirk. “You made a great distraction.”

Caleb shoots her a glare - aware that it's dampened by his still-present smile - and opens his mouth to snark back. Before he can say a word Fjord steps forward, frowning. “Yes, a great distraction. Other than being loud enough to summon every other monster in the area. Let’s get moving before either they show up or these guys decide to eat us after all.”

Caduceus, who Caleb notices is already walking down the tunnel ahead, chimes in over his shoulder. “Nah, I don’t think they're going to eat us anymore. We made a deal.”

“Yup. Yeah. Yup. A deal, that we did.” Fjord is still eying the kobolds warily. “Anyway, let's go.”

Jester pushes herself up, away from Caleb, and turns towards Fjord - calling over her shoulder, “Nugget, come on!” Nugget bounds over, stopping on the way to give Caleb a slurp on the face. Caleb splutters on another laugh.

Beau helps Caleb the rest of the way up off the ground, giving him a smack on the back that sends him staggering to the side as he walks away. Caleb turns to give her a look of disbelief - but he’s still smiling, scheiße - and she just flashes him a grin. He settles for a shake of his head and turns away to catch up with the others.

Jester, it seems, is now eagerly interrogating the kobold leader about the worm and the army following it, while Fjord and Yasha wait next to her, looking impatient. Nott, off to the side, catches Caleb’s eye. She’s clearly biting back a smile and she gives him a look he can’t quite decipher. Caleb averts his gaze quickly and hurries to catch up with Caduceus.

Caduceus looks over as Caleb joins him in the tunnel ahead. He gives the wizard a warm smile. “Ah. Have fun? That looked nice.”

Caleb brushes himself off, carefully avoiding eye contact with the firbolg. “Ah, um…no…but I’m happy to have provided a distraction.”

Caduceus chuckles. He catches Caleb’s eye anyway as Caleb straightens up, and his smile grows even warmer. There’s a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “Alright then.”

Jester comes bounding up then, closely followed by Fjord, Nott, Yasha, and Beau. She rushes up to Caleb, all bright, toothy grin and fingers jabbing into his side, which has Caleb jerking away, yelping. Jester giggles. “This is so great, Caleb! We can have tickle fights now!” She flashes him another bright grin. Caleb just stares at her, fighting for his life to keep his face stoic.

Jester, undeterred, turns to Caduceus instead. “Right, Cad? We can have tickle fights!” She gives his side a quick jab and is rewarded by a flinch away and a soft chuckle. Jester looks absolutely delighted at this - and Caduceus looks pleasantly surprised himself as he gives her a soft grin.

Caleb steps a few feet away from this and watches the two of them for a moment, before giving a glance behind him at the rest of his friends. They’re looking right at him. Definitely talking about him. He looks away quickly, feeling his face heat up again.

There’s a sound next at his side, and Caleb turns to find Beauregard walking quietly next to him. She gives him a nod. Without returning it, without saying a word, he reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder. And with a quick snap of his fingers, poof - his vision drops into Frumpkin's.

Beau places her hand over his on her shoulder. It’s warm and gentle and affectionate in a way that Caleb is barely familiar with - and if his emotions weren't dulled by being inside his cat, he might be tempted to say something.

But he’s not there. He’s watching through Frumpkin’s eyes as the kobolds whisper amongst themselves and two start following after them. Soon enough he’ll have to say something to the others, let them know about this new development.

But walking there, hand on Beauregard’s shoulder, her hand firmly on top of his, vaguely aware that up ahead Jester and Caduceus are starting a tickle fight all of them are sure to be dragged into, Caleb can catch his breath, calm his mind, and be grateful that, in this moment, no words are needed.

#critical role #the mighty nein #critickle role #lee!Caleb #ler!Jester #ler!Beauregard #very very brief moment of lee!Caduceus #maybe I'll write a sequel with more of that #plus someone needs to pry Caleb's feelings around tickling out of him and it's probably going to be Cad #also I need to do something about Fjord because he turned out to be a bit of a dick in this #and that's a terrible choice on his part considering it's CANON that he's ticklish and that Jester knows this #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #beauregard lionett #caduceus clay #fjord stone #nott the brave #m9 #critical role fic #critical role tickle fic #critical role tickling #tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #sfw tickling community #critickle role fic #ticklish!caleb #critical role tickles #cr tickles #my fics

[hp-hcs]

HIII i love your stories,can yiu pls write one where you hookup with theo after a slytherin party?Y/N thinks that this is a casual hookup but you were actually his longtime crush/obsession

• smut • drunk words, sober thoughts — best friend! theodore nott x gn! reader

warnings: SMUT MDNI, dubcon—sexual acts performed under the influence of alcohol, no anatomical descriptions/pronouns/gendered terms used, unsatisfying/disappointing ending, teen drinking/partying

having a really really really shitty week and solving my problems by writing smut 😐👍

hey! please don’t have sex while under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol! you are physically unable to consent in that situation!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This is a bad idea, innit?”

“Definitely,” Theo agreed, leaning down to kiss the join between your neck and collarbone.

Your body thrummed with the alcohol running through your veins. You could feel that your senses were dulled and fuzzy, but you didn’t care in the slightest. You giggled at the ticklish feeling of Theo’s hair brushing against your jaw.

“Promise this won’t change anything between us?” You asked as he moved, shifting his full weight on top of you and pressing you down further into the mattress.

“Promise, Y/n,” he mumbled distractedly, listening your tiny pleased sounds as he returned to nibbling on your collarbone.

You giggled, splaying your hands across the smooth expanse of his freshly exposed chest, sliding them down to trace his abs.

Theo let out a shaky breath between his teeth, closing his eyes to try to regain composure. “You’re gonna be the death of me, caro.”

“Probably,” you agreed.

His hands trailed down your sides, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your bottoms and simultaneously tugging them and your underwear down in one smooth motion, tossing them to the side to join the slowly growing pile of shed clothing.

Theo groaned at the sight; you, fully exposed, splayed out across his bed. It was like Yule, Samhain, and his birthday all rolled up into one. “Merlin, Y/n- you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, love.”

You didn’t acknowledge what he said, instead more focused on trying to unbuckle his belt. As it turns out, Drunk You had absolutely no concept of belt buckles and how they work.

Eventually, you got it open, reluctantly letting go of Theo so that he could yank off his trousers.

Your body buzzed with alcohol and adrenaline, making you feel fuzzy and distant. You watch him through heavy-lidded eyes as he crawled back on top of you and kissed the shell of your ear. He murmured something to you that you couldn’t quite understand, but you laughed anyways. This was great! Why weren’t you drunk all the time?

You were jolted back into the present as Theodore’s nimble fingers sent zaps of pleasure shooting up your spine as he teased you, the sensation only magnifying as he gripped your hips and fully sunk into you.

You gasped out a startled moan, your hands flying up to hold onto his shoulders tightly.

He began a quick rhythm right off the bat, far too impatient to go slow.

“Fuck- that’s it, darlin’. Jus’ hold onto me,” he panted reassuringly, spreading a large hand across your stomach and smoothing it across your flesh. As his hand travelled further down, he pressed the heel of his hand into the space right below your navel, you both moaning in unison at the intensified sensation.

“Theo- Te-Teddy-” you panted as your fingers scrabbled for anything to hold onto, your nails raking along Theo’s back and leaving shaky pink lines. “Shit- shitshitshit- Theo!”

Your eyes practically rolled back in your head as you were hit with the strongest orgasm you’ve ever felt before.

Theo started laughing at how quickly you’d finished, but not before being abruptly cut off by his own orgasm.

He collapsed on top of you, limbs trembling. You petted his hair, kissing his forehead and mumbling your thanks.

You both fell asleep, the combination of alcohol and…exercise working hard to make you pass out in his bed.

~~~

You hummed softly at the comfortable feeling that surrounded you. You just felt so cozy in this soft and warm bed that you barely even noticed your pounding head.

You did, however, notice the strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

Ah, shit. Who’d I hook up with this time?

You slowly turned your head to look, praying to Salazar or Merlin or whoever that it wasn’t a Weasley.

It wasn’t.

However, your stomach dropped when you saw a familiar head of brown curls laying next go you.

Ah, double shit.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered to yourself. “Oh, fuck fuck fuckity fuck.”

Theo stirred next to you, his arms tightening around your body and tugging you back into his chest.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he mumbled against the back of your neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

“I…” you trailed off. “Uh-”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, one of his hands beginning to caress your side. “I’ve always been hoping for this to happen.”

You stiffened. “What?”

Theo chuckled, his sudden exhale ruffling your hair. “Y/n, I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.”

“What?”

“Look…would you please go steady with me?” He asked, his thumb rubbing small circles into your hip.

“...No.”

You were rather offended. This was your best friend. And he was only friends with you because he wanted to get laid?

What a douchebag.

“I- No?” Theo sounded entirely caught off guard, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to understand. He was certain that you’d say you’d always felt the same, that you were meant to be together, that the sex was good, and then kiss him.

This was not going according to plan.

“No.” You pulled back, rolling out of his bed. You were actively looking anywhere but at him as you picked up your clothes off the floor and hurriedly tugged them back on.

“Y/n-” Theo stuttered, his eyes still wide and tone uncomprehending as he watched you shove on your shoes, not even bothering to tie them.

You just hurried out of his dorm without a single glance back, leaving him alone in his bed and entirely shattering his heart.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

part two

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #x reader #hp x male reader #x male reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott smut #hp smut #theo nott x reader #hp x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

[mont-umi]

MK men finding out that reader has a very high spice tolerance.

Includes: Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Johnny, and Syzoth.

Bi-Han

This man was just casually roaming around the temple trying to also find his certain lover. He then notice a silhouette near the kitchen and there he finds you eating a bowl of ramen. "What are you eating there snowflake?" The cryomancer asked as he stepped close to your shivering form. "Eating a hot bowl of ramen. It's freaking cold in here." You sneezed a bit as you sip more of the savory soup and it helped you warmed up. "Who made this for you?" He grabs the bowl from her and observes the delicious meal on his hand. "I did, no one was around the kitchen so I had to provide for myself." Nods at herself and watches as Bi-Han took a sip of her food and eventually the cryomancer ended up frozen in his place and puts down the bowl to a nearby table. "Next time warn me if the spice of your food would be like this." Grabs a nearby water and freeze the cup before drinking it. "Well I never thought you wouldn't eat it han'er." Grabs the bowl before sipping it back again. "how can you handle such a strong spice?" His words just made you giggle and went back to your spicy treat.

Kuai Liang

This man was laying down beside you as both of you spend your time talking about your jobs or simply reading a book. Kuai noticed you munching on something so he peeked and pokes your cheek. "Quite selfish for you to eat something and not offer me?" He jokingly says as he munches your cheek which made you ticklish and laugh. "Here, I got some candy tamarinds." Offers Kuai some tamarind candy which he happily have some. As he plopped the candy in his mouth and as minutes passed by. He noticed that a tingling sensation is now appearing in his mouth as he sat up and taste the flavor of the candy more. He finally realized that the candy he's eating is spicy and Nott he usual sweet flavor. "Why is this spicy?" His cute reaction made you sat up and laugh. "It's a spicy candy Kuai, be glad it's not those extra hot I always buy. It's just the mild ones." You said as you bring out the plastic bag of candy tamarinds. He was both amused and shocked to know that you can handle such spice "I'm still in shocked to know you can handle such spice." The two of you laugh and went ahead to cuddle even more and eating all your tamarind candy.

Johnny Cage

"hey babe! Have you seen my sunglasses?" He went out to the backyard where you are grilling some good food. He saw you wearing a bikini and apron while grilling some food and he knows you aren't bothered by it since you're used to grilling and cooking foods half naked or even naked. (it will be mention someday ahem!) And there he saw you grilling food while wearing his sunglasses and blasting some music on Alexa. He went behind you and hug your waist while kissing you shoulder. "You look hot in my sunglasses as always." The man noticed a covered bowl and went to open it and saw some raw meats and veggies soaking in a very pungent and eye watering marinate making him pull away. "Goddamn it babe! What the hell was that?!" The man coughs and tears up as he is now 7 feet away from you and the marinate. You just let out a laugh and smiles "this is only for me or unless some of our friends want to get a taste of it too." You smiled at him. "Look babe as much as I love you. Cover that up and make sure you put that 7 feet away from me." He just made you laugh out loud and hides the marinated raw foods away from him and goes back to grilling as the poor man just head inside the mansion.(heads up they bought a new and cheaper mansion will also be mention someday.)

Syzoth

Honestly this man can eat anything as long as it's edible he will be okay with it. And now this man is helping you cook dinner you both noticed that the food needs some chili. So you went to grab a hefty amount of chili that you had a hard time holding it. "Do you need help with that darling?" He quickly grabs the Chilies for you and puts it on the counter top. "This is quite a lot. Are you sure you can handle this?" He looks at you worriedly. "Yeah! These chilies aren't even enough for me." Smiles at Syzoth who just has his eyes widen and looks at the chilies before back to you before letting out an amused laugh. "Looks like I need to learn more about my darling. And I am impressed with your spice tolerance." He comes and kisses your cheek before the two of you went back to cooking dinner.

#mk1 2023 #mk1 #mk bi han #bi han x you #bi han #bi han x reader #kuai liang #johnny cage #syzoth #syzoth x reader #syzoth x y/n

[missamyrisa2]

miss Amy what would you do to someone who has very ticklish shoulders !! . I never realized how ticklish they are till someone tried to give me a massage on my shoulders and I had a little giggle fit .

offer a shoulder rub of course~!! And assure you nooo absolutely notttt I will not tickle youu at all nott one bitttt it's just a shoulder rubbb~ my thumbs are just gonna gliiiide lightly on the shapes of your blades and work all that tension out ~~ oh yes, we have to do it lightly. Wouldn't be much a shoulder rub if it wasn't as liiight as possible ~ that's rule #1 mmhmmm ~ and oh yes, let's get along the muscles hereee and why yes, those are my fingers gently rapping tapping on your upper shoulders. The key is to do that when you don't expect it oh yess, otherwise it won't work. The tensies, you see, they like to hide and I have to surprise them with my rubbies and tappiesss ~ and yeahh you can squirm and giggle too that's fine, giggling and snorting and squeaking is a-ok in my book when we're doing shoulder rubs ~ annnd what's that? Oh yeahhh little kissies are absolutely part of the shoulder rubsss and I'm just gonna brush my lips along your upper back toooo and over the top and across your napeee yeahhh we have to get some lipsies in there with the rubbies toooo can't let those tensies get out of control now ~<33

[grayintogreen]

Can we get each M9's reactions to being groomed by Cree plz 🥰

MOLLY: It’s adorable even if it makes his hair stick up in weird ways!!

CALEB: absolutely into it. It’s like when he just collapsed against Jannik and decided he lived there now.

BEAU: HATE HATE HATE. Has absolutely did the missile snare thing with Cree’s tongue at the risk of getting bitten.

FJORD: Suddenly developed an allergy to tabaxi fur he didn’t previously have.

CADUCEUS: “This is nice.”

JESTER: Ticklish and giggly.

NOTT: HISS.

YASHA: Wary at first but ends up finding it very relaxing.

#once upon a damn you all #my asks

[tick-fic-nick]

Some shenanigans

I made this earlier in the week but I've been putting it off to posting it

Just a fun sketch

#critical role #critical role s2 #the mighty nein #fan art #sfw tickles #tickle #fjord critical role #cr nott #ticklish fjord #ler nott

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: The Opposite of Cuddling

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins.

Dome cuddles don't quite work out, but the Mighty Nein make do.

Wordcount: 1.8k (it would be short if it wasn’t supposed to be a snippet fic aaa)

A/N: maybe i am just in the mood for cuddly gang tickles. maybe so. 

---

“So,” Jester is proselytizing, brandishing a diagram from her sketchbook into dubious faces, “if we cuddle up around Caduceus just like this it’s going to be super soft and comfy and warm until we get out of this stupid weather! Any questions?”

Caduceus puts his teacup aside and leans down to peer at the sketch. It’s really good, especially the faces. She must have drawn it while watching them sleep last night.

And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins. It feels good to see her happy, tail flicking as she clutches her sketchbook in clear delight - after two days of nonstop freezing rain, even her forceful cheer has been wavering. “It’s nice, sometimes, but not when we’re, you know. Sleeping.”

“So I could tickle you right now and you wouldn’t be, like, really mad at me?” Jester presses. She’s scooting towards him as she asks, practically trembling with excitement. It’s awfully cute.

Well, it’s been a while, but he can’t say he’s not a little eager for the contact. He ignores the looks from the rest of their group and flops back onto his bedroll, wriggling a little to get comfortable. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Um,” Beau says from somewhere behind him, a little strangled. Oh, right.

“We’re not keeping people awake, are we?” he asks, craning his neck to the various edges of the dome people have settled in. “Anyone set on sleeping right now?”

Beau makes a face. "That's not the weird part, Duceus."

“They can help!” Jester chirps, and then she’s cuddled into his side and wiggling tiny tiefling claws above his belly. “Oh, Ca-du-ceus!”

She’s pitching her voice as deep and scary as it can go. It’s not very far. “Yeah?”

“Where’s your very worst tickle spot?”

He laughs. “Telling you that feels like a bad idea.”

“Then I’ll just have to fi-ind it!” She tugs his shirt up with one quick move, and he barely has time to feel the cold before she’s latching onto his sides and burying her entire face into the downy fur on his belly. “Ooh, you’re so soft and warm! I want to cuddle you forever, Caduceus.”

It tickles, but just a little - honestly, he’s more amused by her. “Can’t say I’ve heard that before,” he chuckles, reaching out to poke gently at her side. “You’re not bad yourself.”

She squeaks, pulling her head up just enough to gasp at him. “Oh my gosh, Caduceus, did you just tickle me back? Guys, you have to come help me!”

“Nah, I’m good,” Beau snorts.

Jester lets out a massive sigh and flops back down onto him, and for a pleasant minute or two it’s just her nuzzling into him as he watches raindrops pelt off the amber dome overhead.

Then there’s a rustle, and some clinking, and before he can do anything more than lazily twitch one of his ears in the direction of the sound Yasha’s upside-down face pushes into his field of view.

“Do you mind if I join?” she asks in her quiet way. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Jester springs upright, grabbing happily for her hands. “Yes! Join us!”

Caduceus echoes her, snorting out a quiet laugh as Jester regains some of her energy and starts to scribble her way up his sides. He doesn't have any quiet siblings - Yasha reminds him a little more of the mourners, so it’s always nice to see her reach out. He's good at appreciating that sort of thing.

Yasha smiles shyly down at the both of them as she pulls his head into her lap and starts to play with his ears. “These are so soft,” she marvels. “Are you ticklish here?”

His ears have always been one of his siblings’ favorite spots to tease him with, and apparently they haven’t gotten any less sensitive in the last ten years. “Yeah,” he gasps. “Heh - just - hehe - a little bit.”

There's a frustrated groan off to his right. “Okay, I’ll bite.” Footsteps track around to his side, fleet and quiet, and he waits patiently for a flash of blue cloth to cross his gaze. “But only ‘cause ears are a fucking weird spot and I want to see if this works on you.”

Beau crouches by his side and curls her fingers loosely. “I’m gonna punch you,” she warns. “Probably not that hard, but don’t tense up.”

He nods as best as he can while tilting his head to better let Yasha worry her fingernails at the backs of his ears - he’s not sure if he could feel more boneless if he tried, right now.

The heel of her fist strikes him right in the middle of his chest, fingers clutching around something intangible - that something scurries its way down every nerve he has, and he coughs out a startled laugh before he can help himself. “What was that?”

“Payback for growing lichen on me back at your house,” she quips, but her eyes are narrowed in clear concentration. “Okay, ears, ears… wrists? And knees? And - fuck, man, your entire back? Really? Jes, let’s flip him over, this is going to be good.”

Well, that’s unexpected.

“Wait - ha!” Caduceus yelps, squirming as fingers start to pry their way underneath him. “Hold on now-”

He’s bigger than both of them by far, but they’re strong and not above tickling the backs of his ribs until he starts to squeal. "You're so thin, Caduceus!" Jester exclaims, hooking a finger into the tender gap between two bones and wriggling it mercilessly - his back arches entirely without his permission, letting Beau pry him another inch off the ground, and he whines defensively. "We have to feed you more!"

They get as far as rolling him onto his side before Beau loses patience and starts prodding smugly at his spine. “Your ki is pretty shivery around here, Duceus,” she teases. “Trying to hide your worst spots, huh? Bet you thought we weren’t gonna take this seriously.”

Caduceus is too busy laughing to deal with - any of that, really, especially when Jester slings herself over him so she can reach his back too. “I’m - ahaha! aaa! - oh, that tickles!”

As if in direct response to his babbling, a small weight bundles into the back of his knees. He curls up reflexively with a strangled shout - it’s Nott, cuddling up to him with a shivery sigh as an invisible hand starts to pinch at his kneecaps. “You’re right,” she crows to Jester. “He is soft.”

It does feel nice, being buried under this many people and tickled till the marrow of every bone in his body shivers, happy and helpless, and when Fjord finally sits in front of him and presses a questioning hand to his shoulder Caduceus doesn’t resist the impulse to clutch his hands and pull him in closer.

Fjord comes easily, huffing in quiet amusement as Caduceus buries his face in him and Yasha and wriggles like a freshly surfaced earthworm. “You alright there?” he drawls. “You sound like they’re trying to kill you.”

Nott snorts from somewhere near his belly. “We should stop, then, we’ve only got the one cleric.”

“Hey!”

Everything abruptly derails as Jester launches herself towards Nott and, from the sound of it, kicks Beau right in the face - there’s wheezing, and then shouting, and then the telltale sugar-sweet scent of Jester’s healing magic.

Caduceus holds very still. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Beau confirms, mangled. He can practically picture Jester frantically squishing her cheeks around as she checks for damage.

A typical tickle fight, as far as the Clays are concerned, just with a different smell - the Wildmother's healing tends more earthy. Even though they’ve stopped tickling, Caduceus can’t help but laugh.

He’s not sure if he imagines Fjord fluttering light fingers along the insides of his wrists as he catches his breath, but by the time he wheezes out one last fit of giggles and rolls himself back over everyone seems to be keeping a respectful distance, if a good deal closer together than they were at the beginning of the evening. “I think that went pretty well,” he says, pleased.

“...so you’re stupid ticklish,” Beau says dryly, scrubbing a bit of dried blood from her lip. “No cuddling Duceus while he’s trying to be unconscious, message received.”

There’s a chorus of agreement from all but one - Caduceus looks around and spots their final member for the first time since they sat down for dinner, nose buried in a book and ears suspiciously red.

He hasn’t moved an inch all night, even to escape the noise, which leaves him only a few feet away from the rest of them. Caduceus gets the feeling he’s about to regret that. “Oh, I’m sure there are those that have it worse,” he grins. “Right, Mr. Caleb?”

Caleb’s gaze snaps up over the edge of his book. “Ja,” he rushes out, strangled. “I mean - nein - of course I am not - I am just trying to read here-”

Jester doesn’t wait for him to dig his grave any deeper. “Oh my gosh, Cay-leb, are you super ticklish too?”

Caleb stuffs his book back into its holster and holds a hand out preventatively, reaching with panicked precision for a strip of leather tied just above his knee with the other. “No, I am not-”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Fjord rocks backward and reaches out with one broad hand, latching onto Caleb's wrist, and Caleb promptly abandons all spellcasting to kick at him like a startled rabbit.

Despite that, he reels Caleb in gently, scooping him into a neat little ball before he heaves him into the middle of their little circle and squarely on top of Caduceus. “I think we owe you a nice, long thank you for this lovely dome, don’t we?”

There’s a moment of silence as Caleb presumably thinks about how easy it would be to kill them all in this enclosed space. “This,” he says, as severely as he can with his feet in the air and hair in his eyes, “is the opposite of cuddling, and if you do not leave me alone then tomorrow night I am going to make all of you sleep in the rain.”

Even the seasoned homebody in Caduceus knows that’s the exact wrong thing to say to a group of damp and grumpy adventurers - if the mood in the dome was mischievous before, it takes a steep dive into outright evil.

Beau cracks her knuckles. “Yeah? Let’s see what you have to say when we tickle you again tomorrow.”

And if Caduceus laughs as Caleb gives one startled owlish blink and then scrambles to hide as much of himself behind Caduceus as possible - well, that’s not from the tickling at all.

#Tickling #critical role #caduceus clay #jester lavorre #the mighty nein #bc i cannot tag all seven of them that feels illegal #chocfic

[spritewrites]

Hi! I love your writing! I was wondering if I could ask for prompt 30 with lee!Essek

oh, anon, if you only knew how much you absolutely can.

this got away from me so far it’s not even funny. like i can’t even see it on the horizon. expand at your own risks, this boi is beefy

30. “I’m not ticklish, who do you think I am?”

“Caleb?”

“Scheiße—” Caleb jumps.

Oh. Essek.

It wasn’t that he… forgot the man was there, that task would be nearly impossible. It’s only that Essek hasn’t spoken in a few hours, and Caleb had been wondering… well. Maybe he isn’t enjoying the book; recommendations for people you don’t know very well can be tricky. Maybe he simply has to go home. Maybe he got a Message from the Bright Queen, announcing that all of the Nein were to be executed immediately.

All were possibilities.

That is why he is surprised to see Frumpkin’s tiny owl form perched on the drow’s shoulder, investigating a studded ear with nimble precision. The shoulder in question is hitched up quite high, seemingly trying to protect the thin skin but only succeeding in giving the owl further access to the pointed tip.

There’s some kind of quivering tension playing around Essek’s lips. Caleb consciously stops himself from staring. It wouldn’t do to offend his research partner.

“He is—ah, he is nibbling me, Caleb,” Essek hisses. His ear flicks, and Caleb watches his fingers twitch, tracing half-beginnings to a number of spells that he seems to reconsider mid-cast before squeezing his hand into a fist.

Oh, dear.

“Frumpkin,” he says sharply, and snaps his familiar back to his own shoulder. Frumpkin immediately chirps and nuzzles the side of his own rounded ear, and Caleb huffs fondly and gives him a little scritch on his head. “Be a good cat. I apologize, he should know better than to attack anyone ticklish. I believe Fjord taught him that lesson rather well.”

He’d hoped the quip would smooth things over well enough to continue their study. Instead, Essek… bristles. “I’m not—I’m not ticklish, who do you think I am?”

Fuck.

“I do not mean to offend,” Caleb says quickly. Frumpkin gives a skeptical quirk of his head, clearly indicating his thoughts on the matter. Well. We can’t all go around rubbing up against attractive wizards, now can we? “I only thought… well, no matter. I am sorry that he bothered you.”

He shoots the drow a look that he hopes comes across as generally respectful and amiable—he is their liaison, after all, and they’ve worked far too hard to jeopardize such a relationship—but Essek’s eyes aren’t on him. They’re off, just slightly, trained on the spot where Frumpkin’s feathers are brushing the crook of Caleb’s neck. “It’s quite alright. You are… not, I suppose?”

Caleb swallows the “No, Nott is the goblin” that wells up in his throat. “Hm? Not what?”

“Not…” Essek gestures vaguely in the direction of his own recently victimized ear. “Not ticklish.”

After several months of dealing with tieflings, the way he stumbles over the word is not lost on Caleb. A flush begins to rise in his cheeks, and he can only hope his scruff hides the full effect of it. “Ah. Ich verstehe. Ja, but not…” He casts a sideways look at Frumpkin, who blinks. Bastard. “Well, a long time with fluffy animals on one’s shoulder builds up a certain tolerance in the area, I suppose.”

Essek also blinks, unreadable. His face is perhaps a bit more violet than it had previously been, but it may also be a trick of the light.

And Caleb could certainly blame that for making him bold, or something pent up inside from sitting across from Essek for two hours and forty-seven minutes without talking, or something else, but...

“It is funny,” Caleb continues before he can talk himself out of it, “that you say that you are immune. You seemed quite ticklish a moment ago.”

Essek goes still. Scheiße, if Caleb could just maintain enough composure around this man to talk about magic and research like a normal person, and not ask personal questions, they might manage to get out of Xhorhas alive.

“You are…” Oh, Essek’s speaking. “You are not wrong, Caleb Widogast. I suppose it has been… a while. I was under the impression that I had grown out of such things.” He clears his throat, and his ear flicks again. Must be involuntary. “It appears I was mistaken.”

Oh.

Well, that wasn’t what Caleb was expecting at all.

“I see.” He manages a small smile. “I will be sure to keep that information away from the others.”

Essek looks alarmed. “Would they… I mean…”

Oh, dear, the Shadowhand might be in greater trouble that even he realizes. Caleb’s smile pulls harder at his dimples at the thought, but he stifles it. “They can be a bit mean, if they know too much. Not to worry, I will keep them at bay for you if anything were ever to… come up.”

The anxiety in Essek’s gaze fades, but his ears are still fixed in Caleb’s direction. It’s rather difficult not to feel like an insect under a glass, with the way his dark blue eyes seem to see far deeper than they should be capable. “They subject you to this as well?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” Caleb had not anticipated how difficult this would be to say out loud. “When they can.”

Essek tilts his head. “But not your neck, you say?”

“My, ah. My ribs tend to be a bit more… productive. If that’s the sort of thing you’re after.” The flush is back. Fuck.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Essek looks… curious, almost. Studious. The way he looks when they’re researching, but he’s eyeing the fabric underneath Caleb’s book holsters instead.

Caleb fights the urge to squirm.

“Well,” says Essek, catching Caleb off guard with the breeziness of his tone. “We have work to do, yes? Frumpkin seems to agree with me.”

Indeed, Frumpkin is hopping off Caleb’s shoulder to peck at a bit of blank parchment. Honestly, Caleb wouldn’t put it past him to be doing it on purpose. Probably for the best, either way.

“Yes, yes of course. Apologies, if I overstepped—”

Essek waves him off. “Nonsense. After all,” he grins, “I find it useful to learn the weaknesses of my friends along with my enemies.”

Hm. “It goes both ways, Herr Thelyss.”

He seems to consider this for a moment, glancing between the owl on the table and the blushing wizard sitting across from him. For a moment, Caleb swears he sees something in the smooth lines of his face—something darker, perhaps, or just deeper—but then it’s gone, and the drow is smirking again.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it does.”

#critickle role #head empty only shadowgast #ask meme #these are closed!!! #anon #this is over 1k i'm so sorry #these are supposed to be drabbles #finn the nott pun is for you #credit to chock for giving me the guts and inspiration to FINISH something #hope you all enjoy #also props to you if you catch the foreshadowing and themes at the end. we love writing huh

[amazingmsme]

My plans for tktober are lookin’ pretty sparse my guys… think I need help filling it out 🥺

Day 1: anticipation- Ben & Klaus (umbrella academy)

Day 2: drawn on- Nott & Jester (critical role)

Day 3: shriek- Schmidt & Nick (new girl)

Day 4: reward- Scott, Nora, & Hopper (night film)

Day 5: punishment-

Day 6: cuddles-

Day 7: message-

Day 8: death spot-

Day 9: trapped- Ezra & Richard (imposters)

Day 10: ticklish kiss-

Day 11: competition-

Day 12: surprise- Nick & Winston (new girl)

Day 13: blush-

Day 14: tracing-

Day 15: games-

Day 16: new discovery-

Day 17: trick-or-treat-

Day 18: chase- Anders, Blake & Adam (workaholics)

Day 19: revenge-

Day 20: counting-

Day 21: wake up-

Day 22: monster-

Day 23: spidering-

Day 24: don’t move-

Day 25: teasing-

Day 26: favorite spot-

Day 27: hiding-

Day 28: distraction- Eleven & Mike (stranger things)

Day 29: ghost tickles-

Day 30: flinch-

Day 31: aftercare-

#ash begs for prompts #tickletober prompts #tickletober2022 #prompts #asks

[thebest-medicine]

By the Fire Light (AKA Who Would Win In A Tickle Fight?)

Summary: mighty nein shenanigans. relatively early campaign fireside party chill time… you know how it is with silly tieflings when they’re bored.

A/N: based on this fan question and the subsequent answer ehehe (link to vid clip)

[AO3 Link]

Words: 3026

…

Nott and Caleb are gathered rather close, not unusual for them on an evening around the fire. She’s going through some of the trinkets, treasures, and other little things she stole over the last few days. A few gold pieces, someone’s pen, a dagger…

Caleb turns from examining her spoils, looking at the rest of their party across the flames. Jester is smiling, wriggling in her seat a bit as she animatedly speaks with Mollymauk. Fjord is sitting not far from them, though he doesn’t seem to be contributing to the conversation. Beau is gathered up as near to Yasha as she can be without looking too desperate, pointedly not looking directly at her to avoid losing her train of thought or saying something stupid. Caleb feels a warmth settle in his chest, a strange contentment he has not felt for a very long time.

“Caleb! Do you and Nott want some wine?” Jester asks sweetly, holding out a bottle that she and Molly are sharing.

Caleb’s mouth lifts a little on the side. “Sure. Thank you, Jester.” He answers for both of them.

Nott reaches into one of the coin purses she had snagged, and finds it goes much deeper than she thought. “Oooh!” She exclaims. “I think we’ve got something interesting here!”

Jester brings over 2 cups of wine for the pair of them. “What is it, Nott?”

“Feels like a bag of holding! Wonder what’s in here!” She stands, wiggles her fingers. “Money? Perhaps?” And places them into the opening.

She pulls nothing out. “Well that’s a shame. How about weapons?” And she dunks her hand again.

This time it connects with something. A smooth, heavy handle of a weapon. She pulls it with a grin, and finds a large black mace.

“Cool! Can you swing that?” Jester claps. “Are there more?”

“Let’s see!” Nott thinks again of weapons and puts her hand in again.

…

A few minutes later, several daggers, arrows, and a shortsword, are all she has pulled from the bag.

“Should we try to like, dump it?” Jester asks. “That can’t be it.”

“Um. Maybe not here… now…” Nott suggests.

“Aw, ok, later then.” She climbs back over near Molly and Fjord.

“Hey, what do you guys think would be like, the weirdest thing we might find in there?” She asks.

“I dunno. Whoever had it seems like they were kind of boring.” Molly says, glancing at the small cache of weapons Nott has removed.

“Maybe like… a big, huge sex toy!” Jester theorizes. “Nott try thinking about sex toys and try to pull out something.”

Nott laughs a little. “I am not going to do that… Be my guest though!”

“Aww. Don’t be shy.”

“Not shy. I’m just- who knows where something like that’s been.” She shudders.

“There could like, definitely be blood and guts and brains on the weapons you pulled out.” Jester teases. “But fine… um. What were we talking about before Molly?”

“Who do you think could handle the most ale?”

Jester turns to the others, smiling and raising an eyebrow as to direct the question to them.

Nott smirks. “I think I-“

“I think Yasha probably could drink the most.” Caleb looks at Nott as she squints at him. “I mean, physically. Without getting sick or passing out.” He holds his hands up in a small defense at Nott’s small scowl.

Beau nods in agreement, and Yasha lets out a small laugh.

“Umm…” Jester taps her finger on her chin. “Who do you think would win if you were wrestling? Beau or Yasha?”

…

A few more hypothetical questions go by, and a pattern seems to form.

“Is every answer just gonna be Yasha?” Molly laughs. “We need to ask about some other people.”

“Ooh ooh I have one! Who do you think would win in a tickle fight? Nott or Caleb?”

“Interesting.” Molly says as he turns to regard the pair sitting opposite the fire.

Caleb stops drinking, just managing not to cough, and fixes Jester with a bewildered stare. It takes a moment for the words to process in his mind. He replies, somewhat snarky. “Hm…what a question.”

“Is there already a victor? Care to share?” Mollymauk waggles his eyebrows.

“Well I, uh,” Nott begins, turning to look at Caleb, “I guess it never came up in our time together?”

Jester leans in. “But didn’t you guys ever snuggle real close when it was cold? You never ever tried to tickle him?” She seems to be in genuine disbelief. “But, like, he’s so grumpy all the time.”

“Ja, we were not wasting our time with such childish things.” Caleb speaks pointedly.

Nott catches a hint of pink creeping up the back of Caleb’s neck and ears that did not seem to be there a minute ago, something not from warm brightness of the fire.

“Just, what was it? Conning people and stealing?” Mollymauk laughs. “Yes, very mature of you.”

Caleb moves his eyes over to Molly. “We did what we had to, to get by.”

“Okay, but like, smiling and laughing is very, very important!” Jester insists with a bit of a whine. “Did you at least tell jokes?”

“I can be funny.” Caleb huffs at them.

“We are losing track of the question!” Jester declares. “I think that Nott would probably win, her sleight of hand is crazy.” She turns from Molly to Nott. “I bet you make a good tickler. Are you ticklish?”

Nott smiles shyly, ducking her head. “To be honest, I used to be, but it was, uh, a long time ago.”

“Why don’t you guys just have a tickle fight right now?” Jester suggests excitedly. “Or we all could, I mean-“

“You.” Caleb’s voice is deeper as he fixes his friend with a glare at her suggestion, pointing at her accusatorially. “Shut the fuck up.” There’s a tiny wiggle of his mouth, a falter in his stern expression. It’s gone in an instant.

“Are you ticklish though?” Molly prods on. What a team they make, these two strangely colored, trouble making tieflings.

Caleb rolls his eyes, looking petulant like an unhappy child. “I am so done with this question.”

“No you’re not.” Mollymauk chides.

Caleb’s eyes light up with something akin to fear, though not as serious, nervousness perhaps. They flick to Molly.

“Seriously,” The tiefling wiggles excitedly. “Are you ticklish?”

If Caleb could cast using his eyes, Molly is almost certain that he would be six feet under from the look the wizard gives him. Caleb takes a breath, steadies himself, tries to take control of the situation. “I’m sure that I am, and I’m-“

Mollymauk snorts and laughs along. “What do you mean you’re ‘sure that you are’?”

“-and I’m also holding a mace.” Caleb finishes harshly as he points the weapon Nott had just found a few minutes earlier out at the group, slowly panning between them.

“Oh.” Beau laughs. “Are you gonna take me in melee?” She’s suddenly much closer than she was a moment ago.

“No offense, Caleb, but you’re not very strong.” Jester’s smile conveys some hint of sympathy despite the clear overtone of mischief. “I think we could probably all take you in a tickle fight, really.” She wiggles her fingers at him and he jumps back an inch.

“Well…” Caleb can’t keep up the angry facade in the face of the trickster tiefling. He deflates a bit. “It seems, then, that you have an answer. Is your curiosity satisfied?” He takes a step back.

“Nope.” Molly answers instead of her. “Who knows? You could surprise us.”

“You know there’s only one way this conversation is going to end.” Beau rubs her palms together.

Caleb swallows a whine in his throat. His eyes dart between his companions, looking for an opening to rush far enough out of the way to get his hands into his component pouch. And then still, if they got to him before he could get the verbal components out…

An hopeless groan falls from Caleb’s lips as he finds himself cornered, pinned under each of his friends’ intense gaze. “What can I do to convince you to let this go?” He tries.

“You can let us tickle you!” Jester supplies with an impatient whine.

“Well that rather defeats the..” Caleb trails off. He sighs.

A mage hand appears above his own grip on the mace. “I think I’ll be taking this back.” Nott’s voice interrupts. “Don’t want you falling on it and hurting yourself.”

A small smile is working it’s way into Caleb’s slightly exasperated expression as he looks at his goblin companion, then lets go of the mace, which is swiftly carried out of range.

“Well, well. No more mace, Magic Man, now you’re just… what was it?” Molly continues in a chopped attempt at Caleb’s accent. “Sure that you are ticklish?”

Not knowing what else to do, Caleb backs away from the group slowly. He only makes it a few steps before Beau is on him in a flash. A millisecond of struggling before Beau has him grappled from behind, his arms pinned out to the sides in a full-Nelson. A desperate, strangled sound comes out of his throat as he is held steadfast, a grinning monk pressed against his back. “Beauregard.” He tries. “I will kill you.”

“Yeah, how are you gonna do that?”

Caleb panics for a moment when he realizes he cannot pull his arms in enough to cover any part of himself, his torso, his face. Gods, what he must look like, blush ripening on his face.

Jester practically pounces in front of him. “Oooo where are you ticklish, Caleb?” She contemplates giddily.

Caleb catches the start of a laugh in his throat; the silly absurdity of his companions has been growing on him. He stares up at the sky and pointedly not at any of the Nein. “That seems very unwise to tell you right now.”

“Are you ticklish here?” She presses on, prodding into the softness of his belly a few times.

Caleb’s breath hitches. “Mist- Jester!” He bites his lip, squirming already under just a few pokes.

“That would be a yessss.” She giggles, continues teasing. “What about here?” Two fingers walk over to his side to pinch a few times. “You’re so soft, Caleb!”

Caleb’s legs are practically dancing in place as he tries to wiggle out of the path of Jester’s fingers. “Plehehease-“ He gasps as he chokes back a laugh.

“Yeah you are pretty ticklish there too.” She turns to the rest of their party. “Are you guys gonna help me or what?”

“Nein! No- plehease do not!” Caleb almost shrieks out as Jester pinches up his ribs. He feebly kicks out as she climbs higher.

Yasha puts a hand on Molly’s shoulder when he starts to creep closer to Caleb. She looks between him and Beau. “Listen, I’m all for finding out, but he might not have the same… tolerance.. as you or I for this type of mischief.” She squeezes Molly’s shoulder and he turns to look at her, a little disappointed somewhere in his mind that he probably wouldn’t see what the wizard looked like completely breathless, ravished, unable to stop laughing and smiling tonight. She continues. “We don’t want him to run away on us in the middle of the night.” He gives her an understanding look.

Jester is deterred temporarily by his leather and books, thank gods, but then she just moves right up under Caleb’s arm. His arms flail about (as much as they can), absent any pattern, an outlet for the nervous, ticklish energy building up what feels like exponentially in his system.

“Alright, fine, don’t have to ALL get him right now but, like…” Jester wiggles the fingers on the hand not tickling under Caleb’s arm. She continues talking as he fights unsuccessfully against his laughter. “It really would be faster finding out all his spots if I had a helping hand or two.”

“Noho- Whyhyhy!“ Caleb chokes out between what are dangerously close to full on laughs.

Fjord is snickering to the left of them. He holds his arms up defensively. “I’m not trying to get on the bad side of our wizard.” He takes a step back, content to observe.

Caleb feels Jester pull back from under his arm. He’s still frantically fighting to keep his eyes shut or pointed upward, to will his blush to die down, to squelch the laughter bubbling up in his belly and into his throat. Then, there are fingers against the side of his neck and Caleb is scrunching down as best he can. “Nohohoho-“ Caleb whimpers giddily, a smile plastered on his face.

“Your neck is really ticklish, Caleb!” Jester cheers. “Well, like, pretty much all of you is so far, but-“ She brings her other hand over to trace a path down his other side from under his arm to his hip. Caleb shrinks away from the contact, still awkwardly curled in on his neck as much as he can. “I guess earlier I should have just asked if there was anywhere you weren’t ticklish.”

Caleb’s mind is swirling with the teasing words from Jester. He can’t stop thinking about how everyone can see him, hear him, is watching him right now. He feels - he’s not sure.. It’s intense and silly and unbearable and tingly. Some part of him grasps at the word fun. Still, everyone is looking at him.

“Hey, can you?” Caleb barely registers Molly‘s words, luckily he’s not talking to him. Beau seems to pick up the gesture and question Molly is asking of her as Caleb feels a nod behind him. “I wanna try something.”

Caleb is vaguely aware of his legs shifting and his body moving closer to the ground. His knees bend as Beau sits down behind him, keeping his arms in place, and tucking him easily into her lap despite his wriggling struggles.

Caleb kicks at the air while Jester leans back in from the side to poke and prod at different little spots along his torso. He jumps at each touch. Giggles start falling out almost freely.

Molly grips firmly on Caleb’s ankle and for the first time his eyes make contact with a member of the Nein. “Don’t.” Caleb grins at him nervously.

“I’ll be nice.” Molly assures him with a wink, tugging off his shoe. He can feel Caleb attempt to kick a little, but it seems more for show than anything. Maybe the wizard is just that weak.

Molly scribbles three claws against the ball of Caleb’s foot and he wails, tugging his leg inward a bit harder. “Plehehehease- Scheiße! Beau, let me, let me gohohoho!” Caleb cackles, trying to roll himself over and become one with the dirt. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Hey Jes!”

“Yeah, Molly?”

“Feet are a pretty good spot.” He reports to his devious partner in tickling. “I’m gonna try his legs.”

Caleb is rocking back and forth, squirming in Beau’s grasp as Molly tickles along the different parts of his sole. He pinches a toe, earning a little yelp. Then his fingers tickle lightly along the tops of his feet and up to his calves. He pinches lightly along the back, toward Caleb’s knee.

This one surprises Caleb. He’s been tickled in all of the, what he would consider, usual places. Friends and lovers long ago had taken advantage several times. No one had ever tickled his calves before. He didn’t know they could be ticklish. Where else were they going to find he’s ticklish?

Caleb’s free leg is desperately trying not to kick Molly directly in the face, but he’s not sure how long he will be able to keep it up.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to worry about that much longer as he feels Yasha’s hand close around his free ankle when it swings a bit too close for comfort.

…

“H-Help!” Caleb cries out as Beauregard’s fingers flex deftly in his armpits. He slams his now freed arms down, but it’s far too late to do anything about Beau or Jester’s hands.

“Alright, alright. I think you’ve established he’s ticklish.” Nott puts a hand on Jester. “You kill him and I’ll have to kill all of you.”

Molly and Yasha set his legs down gently, smoothing a palm over his shins. Jester starts to mimic the motion on his arms.

Beau laughs. “Well you’re gonna have to give me my damn hands back, if you want me to stop.” She taps a few times. Caleb shudders.

“N-No you’re-“ He lets out a giggle and a whine. “You’re going to-“

“Guess I’ll just stay like this forever, then?” She pinches under his arms and Caleb shrieks.

Still shaking a bit, he slowly moves his arms away from his sides.

She slowly starts to pull away. But, really, how can she resist? She wiggles her fingers when Caleb lets the arms move away from his sides just a bit more, and he immediately slams his arms back down with a shout.

“Hey!” Nott pushes a little at her. “That’s enough!” She’s smiling as she scolds.

Yasha stands, giving Caleb a hand sitting up as she moves over to Beau behind him. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Wait.” Beau pales, scrambles to get up.

Yasha has her caught around the waist in a flash. Molly and Nott help give her a little taste of her own medicine while Jester plays with Caleb’s hair.

“You okay?” She asks him tenderly, a smile on her face.

“Yes, yes. I’m- it’s just.” He laughs, smiles bashfully. “It’s been a while.”

She brushes the last hairs out of his face and pinches his cheek. “That was pretty cute.”

He elbows her away playfully.

“I think you would probably lose in a tickle fight against, like, any of us.” Jester teases, looking over to where Molly, Nott, and Yasha have Beau squealing beneath them. “Maybe not if everyone gangs up on someone else.” She shrugs.

“Oh, I still have some tricks up my sleeve. You never know.” Caleb shoots her a wink as he lays back against her thigh, partially exhausted. He closes his eyes, content to relax into the positive touch and influence of his friends.

#critickle role #the tickle fight is hypothetical and yet Caleb still loses #ticklish!caleb #briefly also ticklish!beau #tickle fic #tickling #mighty nein #dnd #mine #fluff #Caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #nott the brave #jester lavorre #mollymauk tealeaf #the gang finds out Caleb’s ticklish #enjoy my critters #critical role #critical role tickling #let’s be real it’s not really a fight wizards are squishy #Caleb’s friends as so mean #tsk tsk #but it’s ok he’s just learning to have fun ok #one of these days he’s gonna crawl his ass into Mollymauk’s room and be like um. remember that thing you did. by the fire. the other night. #but he’s gonna have to be drunk or just coming out of a polymorph to do it lol

[august-anon]

Her Boy

i wrote this while half asleep last night and please keep in mind that i am literally only 15.25 episodes into critical role campaign 2 lol, but i wanted to write something and that became this lol (also i am very out of practice with writing i am sorry dkjfhdhf)

----------

Fandom: Critical Role (Mighty Nein)

Ship(s): Gen

Characters (lee/ler): lee!Caleb, ler!Nott

Word Count: 484 words

Summary: Nott didn't understand how the others ever thought Caleb was the parent in their relationship.

[ao3 link]

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

It was really too easy, Nott thought as Caleb collapsed to the mattress underneath them, squirming and snickering.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Nott said, rather obviously unapologetic. “I just had the itch, you see. And I thought maybe if I scratched something, it would help!”

Caleb made a disgruntled noise into the sheets and she cackled. Really, for someone so smart, you’d think he’d learn after all their time attached at the hip: inviting her for a piggyback up to the inn room was just asking to be tickled. She was nice about it, of course. She didn’t want to embarrass him, she kept it gentle enough that it couldn’t be heard through the thin walls of the inn (not like Jester and Beau’s pillow fights, she was pretty sure the whole building could hear those), but she was certainly trying to stop those gears from turning for at least a few minutes.

“Nein, Nott!” He said, reaching back to try and tug her off his shoulders, failing to muffle a squeal when her claws moved from the sides of his neck up to his ears. “Bitte, you’ve had your fun!”

“I dunno, Caleb. You were thinking real hard earlier, I think I need to tire you out tonight so you can sleep.”

“I still need to set the Alarm!”

“You can set it,” she chirped, tickling around to the back of his neck. “I don’t mind.”

“Nott!”

“Alright, alright.”

Nott slid off his back as Caleb pulled himself up off the bed, scowling at her with the fiercest look he could manage. It wasn’t very effective though, considering his face was nearly as red as his hair. She cackled again as he huffed and stalked off across the small room, kneeling down with his small spool of silver thread near the doorway, tilting his face away from her as if that would stop her from seeing the lingering smile there. She waited patiently at the head of the bed, petting Frumpkin as Caleb slowly made his way through the spell before settling in the bed next to her.

“Let’s get to bed, ja? Early morning tomorrow.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Caleb.”

“Goodnight, Nott.”

She watched as he curled up on his side facing the door, boots and jacket still on, the blankets rucked up near the footboard. His breath evened out quickly, and she reached out to brush a few hairs away from his face once it did. She knew it probably wouldn’t last long, but her chest felt a little lighter when she saw the small smile still sitting on his face.

She didn’t understand how the others ever thought Caleb was the parent, Nott thought as she tugged the blankets up to Caleb’s chin. Sure she was small and she played dumb a lot of the time, but that was her boy. And she would do anything to keep that smile on his face.

#tickle fic #my writing #critickle role #lee!caleb #ler!nott #ticklish!caleb #critical role #cr #caleb widogast #nott the brave

[sapphicquill]

congrats on 100 followers friend <3 may I ask for anything with ler!Fjord bc the way you wrote teasing in your TAZ fic was so good? or lee!Lucretia during the Stolen Century arc being tickled out of her antisocial little shell if you're in a TAZ mood :) -Chock

Whoops. This is what happens when my whole life gets flipped upside down and I have to move cross-country back home out of no where! Sorry for the long wait, I'm finally making headway on these fics. I owe the entirety of this fic to @ticklishnonsense's honey-tongued because that’s the Ultimate Teasey Ler!Fjord fic and to @poesparakeet-fics for the plot because my smol brain could not come up with anything good and she gave me THE GOODS. Hope you enjoy, @chockfullofsecrets!

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Fjord, Caleb Widogast

Wordcount: 2423

After everything they’ve all been through, Fjord thinks he can handle most things. Spitting up salt water in the mornings, nearly getting impaled by strangers on a regular basis, Nott rifling through his shit—while he’d rather not deal with all of that bullshit, he can and that’s the important thing.

But the crushing weight of all the damn pining happening between Caleb and Essek might be the one thing Fjord absolutely cannot handle for any longer.

It had started innocently enough. Hands brushing and secret smiles and eyes briefly meeting before diverting, full of nerves and excitement and swirling butterflies. He’d experienced some of the same with Jester, but the two wizards were starting to get insufferable. It was painfully obvious to anyone in the room that they had a thing for one another, and even if it wasn’t, Fjord had overheard Caleb whining to Jester more than once about the entire situation, so it wasn’t like he was entirely oblivious to his own crush.

But apparently perpetually sad and stuffy wizards are really bad at just admitting what was right in front of their faces. Fjord’s worried that one of them might just explode soon, and that’s the entirely altruistic reasoning that finally inspires him to insert himself into the situation.

Caleb’s problem, Fjord thinks, is one of confidence. He gets too caught up in his own keen mind, tangling everything up in his head and overthinking and overanalyzing and panicking and deconstructing until everything’s just a jumbled mess of knots. He just needs a little push is all. A little something to nudge him past the trouble that is thinking and into acting. And Fjord thinks he knows a fairly good method of encouragement.

Thus, Fjord is currently standing in the doorway of the mansion library, trying not to reveal his presence too early. Caleb is folded over a desk with a pinched expression on his face that Fjord knows by now means he’s reached some sort of roadblock in whatever he was working on. In other words: a perfect time for an interruption.

“Productive afternoon?”

It’s a testament to how close the group has gotten that Caleb only sort-of flinches at the sudden sound of Fjord’s voice.

“Ah, nein, not really,” the wizard replies as he straightens up. His back makes an ominous cracking noise as he sits up and Fjord winces in sympathy.

“Gods, then maybe it’s time to take a break, hm?”

“Ja, a break…” Caleb trails off, eyes drifting back to the scattered parchment and books on the desk. Fjord resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the utterly predictability of their headstrong wizard.

“Okay, well now I’m making you take a break, Widogast,” he says as he marches swiftly over to Caleb and practically hauls him out of his chair. Caleb, unsurprisingly, goes willingly, letting himself be shuffled over to a nearby sofa.

With a huff, Caleb sits and begins massaging his temples, willing away either a physical ache or a swirling mass of snarled thoughts and ideas. Fjord lowers himself down next to the human and pretends like he isn’t thrilled over what he’s about to do.

A comfortable silence descends then. After a few more vigorous rubs, Caleb leans his head back against the leather of the sofa and closes his eyes and Fjord figures this is the best chance to spring the trap.

Quick as a slash of his falchion, Fjord twists from his spot next to Caleb and pulls him down into a horizontal position before caging the human in from above. He hovers over the now-prone wizard and tries not to feel too smug as Caleb yelps but doesn’t move an inch to try to wiggle away.

“Scheiße, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something,” Fjord says casually as he can. Caleb gives him an exasperated look, complete with raised eyebrow and suspicious frown.

“And this ‘something’ requires you to pin me to a sofa?”

Fjord grins before scooping both of Caleb’s wrists up with one hand and pulling them above his head. Exasperation shifts quickly into a mix of disbelief, fear, and anticipation and Fjord is lucky that around his friends, Caleb wears his emotions very clearly on his face.

“Well,” the warlock starts, “I kind of figured that this particular topic would send you scampering off if I didn’t take some preventative measures.”

A fiery blush colors Caleb’s cheeks and Fjord tries not to laugh.

“And something tells me I thought correctly.”

Caleb makes a noise not unlike one Fjord’s heard from Frumpkin and finally starts to struggle lightly in his grasp, like his body is only now catching up with the rest of him. Fjord lets him, figuring that letting the wizard work himself into a bit of a tizzy will just make his own task easier. Caleb’s terribly predictable. As the human squirms minutely under him, Fjord lets his free hand curve subtly into a claw and hovers it just next to Caleb’s lower ribs.

“Now, see, I also think you might benefit from a little preemptive encouragement, because you’re the most stubborn fucker I’ve ever met when you have to talk about anything personal...”

Fjord trails off when he notices that Caleb’s eyes have locked onto his hand, mostly because he knows that the brilliant mage has connected all of the appropriate dots and will voice a protest in three, two—

“N-nein, Fjord, wait just a moment, there is no need for—”

Fjord slowly flutters his fingers, still poised a hair’s breadth from the stretched expanse of Caleb’s ribs, and Caleb cuts himself off with a hitched laugh-gasp, eyes wide as saucers.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate right now,” Fjord says, the edges of his voice tinged with a low growl as he keeps the motion of his fingers going. Caleb doesn’t really do much aside from grow ever so slightly redder in the face.

Without further preamble, Fjord finally moves his hand to meet Caleb’s torso. It’s like the wizard has been hit with a successful Thunderwave—his whole body jolts before tensing up so tightly he trembles. Continuing the fluttering from before, Fjord traces across the space between Caleb’s two lowest ribs and grins when Caleb lets out something between a giggle and a whine.

“Gods, you’re so easy to rile up, you know that?”

Caleb’s giggling picks up at Fjord’s words. He’d have pity on the wizard if it wasn’t so adorable. Still gently teasing at the softness of Caleb’s lower ribs, the half-orc leans forward until his mouth is right next to his victim’s ear.

“You’re just that ticklish, huh?”

Caleb thrashes, throwing his head from side to side so rapidly Fjord would be worried the human would hurt himself if he hadn’t watched this happen numerous times before. For good measure, he lets his fingers drift up Caleb’s ribs and lets out a small laugh himself as the giggles morph into airy, full-blown laughter. Exactly as planned.

“So you and Essek,” Fjord says casually as he straightens back up, pitching his voice a little louder to be heard over Caleb’s bubbly laughter. The wizard definitely seems to register his words if the cut-off gasp and even more desperate wiggles are any indication. Fjord laughs a little to himself at the adorable way Caleb scrunches his nose when the increased movement does little to deter his attack. Taking a little pity, Fjord pushes on, his free fingers swirling tight circles up and down Caleb’s right side.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

Fjord’s not exactly sure humans are supposed to turn that shade of red, but Jester’s got healing spells to spare right now, so he continues.

“And as amusing as it is watching you two dance around each other, it’s getting a bit old.”

“B-bitte, Fjord—!”

Caleb’s own laughter cuts off whatever plea was going to escape next. The wizard flops his head a bit side to side, like if he shakes enough he’ll clear Fjord’s words like trapped water from his ears. It’s downright precious and one hundred percent ineffective.

Adjusting his grip on Caleb’s wrists, Fjord lets his fingers trail up his captive’s ribs in the same slow pace he knows will drive Caleb up the damn wall. It’s a little impressive, actually, how easily this light tickling can take their resident wizard apart. Particularly useful at certain times. He can feel Caleb trembling under him, laughs high and desperate as the light tracing fingertips slowly migrate up to what both Jester and Molly affectionately refer to as his worst “death spots.”

“So, here’s my idea.”

His fingers flutter just below the space where his holsters normally are—fortunate Caleb feels comfortable and safe enough to remove them when at the house—and the wizard groans through his laughter.

“Either you promise that you’ll confess to Essek the next time he’s around, or I’ll just have to keep tickling you forever. How’s that sound?”

“Wh-aaat? Bitte, no, that is e-eehviil!”

“That’s kind of the point, bud,” Fjord replies around another laugh of his own. He floats his fingers up the scant few millimeters to the space between Caleb’s uppermost ribs without prompting and hopes that the wail the human lets out doesn’t worry the rest of the Nein. (It shouldn’t, not with the frequency Caleb makes noises like that.)

“I’m not letting up until you tell me the first words out of your mouth when you see Essek next are ‘Can we talk somewhere privately, Shadowhand?’” Fjord pitches his voice into a terrifically awful imitation of a Zemnian accent that has Caleb laughing, somehow, even harder. Though, on second thought, that might have more to do with the rapid little scribbles he’s got focused on the space above Caleb’s top rib than his attempt at accentwork.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb doesn’t say anything much in response, instead throwing all of his effort into laughing and squirming ineffectively. Fjord keeps a careful ear out for any hint of the safeword Jester had insisted everyone know about and respect upon pain of near-death, but the only thing coming out of Caleb is whimpered begging and a spray of foreign curses. Perfect.

Fjord takes a split second to send a silent apology to Jester, who will no doubt be massively upset she missed out on assisting Fjord with this bit of encouragement, but this was his game right now, dammit, and it was time to go for the kill.

(Would it be worth the inevitable tickling the blue tiefling would dish out later? Most definitely.)

“Alright, well, suit yourself, Widogast.”

With that, Fjord moves the tickling to Caleb’s exposed underarm and focuses the entirety of his attention on making the human melt.

With an impressive amount of core strength, Caleb attempts to jackknife in half to throw Fjord off. Fortunately, their wizard’s tricks are well known by now. Fjord barely budges as he keeps up the spidering under Caleb’s arm, letting his fingers trail just the slightest bit up the underside of Caleb’s bicep before reversing back down to the soft spot just above Caleb’s uppermost rib.

The fight drains out of the mage just as quickly as it revved up, leaving him loose and floppy and lost in the throws of his own cackling. Fjord would feel bad if he didn’t know how much Caleb was enjoying himself. Time to step things up a notch.

“You know how to get me to stop, Caleb. Do you really like the thought of me tickling you like this more than the idea of confessing to a crush you know is damn-well mutual? Really seems like it.”

More wailing, more thrashing, but still, no dice. Maybe a slightly different approach…

“Gods above, you’re just too ticklish for your own good, aren’t you?”

As always, Caleb responds viscerally to the mere word and that, of all things, seems to be the final straw.

“Scheiße, bitte! Habt mitleid! Ohhkay, I pr-promise!”

“You promise what?”

“Oh please, I caa-aan’t—!”

Fjord shifts from light tracing along Caleb’s top ribs to a solid press of his palm, steadying the human as his laughter slowly eases up. After a few gulps of air, Caleb continues.

“I will tell Essek how I truly feel when we next encounter him, I swear to you!”

“You’re absolutely promising me you’ll spill about your deep, undying love for Essek Thelyss the very moment he’s within twenty yards of you?” Fjord taunts, curling his fingers back into a claw at Caleb’s right side. The human tenses and anticipatory giggles start bubbling from him almost instantly.

“Ja, ja, I a-ahh-m!”

“Good!” Fjord says brightly, pulling his hand away from Caleb’s squirming form. He smiles down at Caleb, who looks about ready to protest the large hand still pining his wrists to the sofa, before lowering himself to speak directly into the wizard’s ear.

“And maybe after you two have worked everything out, I’ll have a little chat with Essek myself about how much you like this particular method of torture.”

Caleb looks a bit like he’s swallowed a toad.

“F-fjord, mein Gott, wait—”

“I’m sure Molly and Jester would be more than happy to help me tell him all of the best ways to tickle you senseless, hmm? They’re tieflings, you know how honest they get when tickling comes up. They’ll just gush about how much you love it when we wreck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

He isn’t even tickling him anymore, but Caleb is giggling, light and bubbly and tortured, all from Fjord’s teasing alone.

“Hell, maybe we’ll all get you the next time Essek comes by the tower. How’d you like that, him watching you get tickled by every single one of us until you cry and knowing you love every minute of it?”

Caleb’s just babbling in Zemnian through his laughter, eyes squeezed shut and a grin pulling wide at his lips.

“D’you think he’d join in if we asked him to?”

Caleb just keeps laughing. Fjord grins. Mission successful.

#tk fic #tk fic community #tickle fic #critickle role #critickle role fic #cr tk fic #lee caleb #ler fjord #prompt fill #chockfullofsecrets #100 follower prompt celebration #finally filling these bad boys #big thanks to poe for actually motivating me to write this thank yooooou #sapphicquillfics

[thepencilnerd]

Pasta and Dinner Parties

"Edamame," Theo says.

"The fuck did you just call me?" Blaise’s face contorted quicker than a shifting boggart.

Another eye roll. “The pasta, it’s made from edamame.” Theo pronounces it with a certain twinge of pomposity that would have Percy Weasley reeling. Too many syllables. Vowels too lengthy. “Type of soybean, I reckon.” 

"IT'S NOT PASTA!" Blaise’s roar shook the walls of the foyer.

Pansy snorts into her mug. “I don’t know about you, but I think this dinner will go swimmingly.”

Draco and Hermione have reached a domestic milestone. They've finally decided to move in together. Draco invites her over for dinner, but what would a little Slytherin hospitality be without some sugar and spice?

Rated M for language and discussions of heavy topics in future chapters

Full fic + updates on AO3

"Luna sent a box of these over, wonderful isn't she?" If lovesick eyes had a picture to accompany the definition, Theodore Nott’s face would be front and center. In his left hand, he held an empty cardboard carton with a sticky note adhered to the front flap. 

Simmer for 10 minutes with a sprig of rosemary and a teaspoon of salt. Keeps away the balfspracks. 

Blaise rubs his eyes. It’s half-past five and he’s already had it with Theo. Had it. Patience wore down to the bone. Basta. Finite incantatem. In all honesty, he’d gladly throw himself in front of a flying—

A shorter figure crept up from behind. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she gives her boyfriend a peck on the cheek, which seems to loosen the wrinkles settling over his forehead. 

"Ladies," Pansy jests, mediating the arguments between the two as always. "I'm sure there's more than enough pasta to go around." 

"Not pasta," Blaise muttered. He tried to concentrate on the lingering warmth Pansy’s lips left on his face. The poor bloke sounded like he was about to hurl.  

At this, Theo rolled his eyes and waved dismissively. “Yes, yes, yes, you can flaunt your Italian heritage some other time, now let me work my culinary magic!” 

Blaise takes a deep breath. High blood pressure, he remembered Pansy saying. Need to stay calm. "Mate, I love you, I really do, but if you don't tell me what those green things swimming about in my favorite crockpot are, you have another thing coming."

"You used a crockpot to boil pasta?" Pansy’s head popped up from behind Blaise’s shoulder. Her nose wrinkled like she’d caught a whiff of something foul. 

“Not pasta.” Blaise was a broken record.

Draco groaned from the living room. The headache from earlier evolved into a full-blown migraine by the time lunch was over. His eyeballs were absolutely throbbing. He jammed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as if it would relieve any of the aching. To no avail. 

"Granger's coming over in half an hour and we’ve yet to transfigure a dining table." He verbalized his misery in as simple terms as he could. Sitting on the living room couch, he calculated the farthest distance from the kitchen and found himself just a few feet away. Problem with having a small flat. He couldn't find it in himself to raise his voice. Not with the demon baby currently going stir-crazy with a gavel in his skull. 

He questioned his level of sobriety when he agreed to this.

Meeting Hermione Granger’s parents had been less stressful than this. 

Introducing her to his mother was a Christmas tree full of Christmas presents compared to this. 

Sitting in a train compartment with 2nd-year Hufflepuffs sounded more bearable than this. 

Why, oh why, did he have to open his big mouth that night? 

“Seems proper that I’d at least get to share dinner with them before we move in together,” Hermione shrugged. Her hair was still damp from her—their—shower. Stray curls escaped, framing the curves of her face. Draco loved how her sheets always smelled like her soap. The scent of her shampoo was reserved for the pillowcases. 

“Come over for dinner,” he suggested. Quite impulsively, really. “Allow me to treat you to an evening of... Slytherin hospitality.” Draco’s trademark grin served him well. Resting on his side, Draco was propped up on one elbow with no shirt and sheet draped over his bottom half. She wanted to believe he was wearing briefs underneath. He looked absolutely wicked. 

Hermione scowled tentatively but surrendered with a smile. Her chest rose before she let out a sigh. “Well, I’d be lying if I said I’d experienced an inkling of that before.” Mirth graced her tone. 

The embers from the fireplace bounced off of her bare skin like rays of summer sun; warm and welcoming. Draco’s fingers fondled the strap of her bra, the only thing she was wearing, and earned a breathy giggle from her. Tugging the lace down, he sat up and started pressing a trail of kisses along her skin. Goosebumps erupted where his lips traced her flesh. The bath had stained her skin; she tasted of rosewater and honey. 

Hermione let out a hmph and tried to focus on the book she was holding. She developed a knack for knowing when he craved attention. Whenever Draco came over, he turned into a literal child. Always nagging and begging for her every time he got the chance. If she wasn’t superglued to his side, Hermione would bet a million galleons he’d throw a fit. 

“Turn around and face me instead. I don’t fancy being smothered by your hair while we sleep.” 

“How do you turn on the stove?”

“Granger, help me fix the antenna!” 

“Could you take a look at this spot on the back of my head? I might be balding.” 

“Granger, I think I nicked myself on the aluminium.” 

“If you weren’t wearing so many clothes, we’d probably warm up faster. Becoming a pair of popsicles isn’t exactly on my bucket list.” 

This time around, his demands were very clear. 

“Pay attention to me.” 

Hermione’s eyes shot up from her book. Shock painted her features like a splash of cold water. 

She blinks once. Twice. Three times for good measure. And then, her lips break into a blinding smile, pearly whites and all. The corners of her eyes curl into half-moons and her whole body shakes with glee. 

Sweet Merlin, he was fucked. 

Setting her book down on the nightstand, Hermione sits up straight and looks at Draco expectantly. He sits unmoved beside her. Staring. Admiring. Waiting. The cheeky grin that etches into her face is one Draco would give the world to see every day. 

Draco leans back against the headboard and stretches his legs out towards the foot of the bed. Scooting closer to her, she flips her leg over his awaiting lap. She’s straddling him in the span of two seconds. The feel of her bare flesh against his is utter bliss. 

Her arms wrap around his neck like a koala bear and her head nestles into the crook of his neck. Despite lathering him in her soap, he still smelled like Draco. All these years of dating and she still couldn’t put her finger on the bevy of aromas. 

Draco mirrors her actions like a reflection, one and the same. His arms make her feel so incredibly small when encased in them. Like a bear cub. Or a kangaroo in a pouch. Maybe mammals would be an appropriate term to generalize how warm and safe she felt in his embrace, but it wasn’t the most attractive or poetic—

“I thought we finished showering earlier,” he sighs into her hair. “Why is there steam coming off your head?”

She blows a puff of air into his neck and he jolts at the sensation. Ticklish. Draco knew that secret would die with Hermione and she was honored to keep it. Unless it served her in times of duress. 

“I was just thinking about how safe I am when I’m with you.” The tip of her nose brushes against the junction above his throat and feels his heartbeat, delicate but strong. 

Da-dum.

Da-dum.

Da-dum.

Pulling back, he slides his left hand along her cheek and she leans into it like second nature. Hermione raises her right hand and cradles it over his. The way it pales in proportion almost makes him break into laughter. When she presses open-mouthed kisses down his bare wrist, Draco resists the urge to take her right then and there. It’s too perfect of a moment to ruin. Not tonight. 

She’s even more tender when her lips reach his scar. The marred flesh that takes him back to his inescapable past. A reminder of everything wrong he’s been taught since childhood; everything bad in this world; everything wrong he’s done throughout his entire life. 

But more importantly, it’s a symbol of how much good was left in this dismal world. 

It’s a battle scar that reminds him that he lived.

Something that motivates him to keep trying. 

A reminder of how despite being swallowed by the darkness that plagued the world, he chose to hold onto light. 

A reminder of how above everything, he chose Hermione and Hermione chose him. 

He takes a moment to look at her, really look at her, and melts. 

Hermione is a vision actualized. He sees the dreams and aspirations swirl about her irises in flickers. Roaming freely and always there when you needed them. He wants to bask in them. Relish in them. In her. For as long as she’ll keep him, no matter how infinitely small or finitely large. He’d burn through galaxies if it meant seeing her happy and safe. Anything and everything he could provide for her was his to offer. She need only ask. 

Draco Malfoy was wholly and irrevocably head over heels for Hermione Granger.

Magic and might, save him. 

No really, save him.

What the bloody hell was that infernal yapping? 

"I, for one, thought it would be better to go to an Italian restaurant, but Blaise here," Theo quipped. “—wanted to dish out his non-existent cooking skills,” He paused to stir the pot. “At least Luna was kind enough to—”

Blaise stomped his foot on the kitchen tiles. Miracle they hadn’t cracked yet. There was no point in trying to hide his tantrum. “Just because my ancestors were Italian doesn’t mean I’m a master chef!” He narrows his eyes. “Honestly Theo—” The words die in his throat when Theo fishes out a noodle from the pot. Maybe it’s just his eyes playing tricks on him but he swears it flipping wiggles. “What in Merlin’s great magical kingdom is that abomination and why the ever-loving fuck is it green?” 

Pansy gave his cheek a pat. “Colorful, Blaise. Truly” 

"Edamame," Theo says. 

"The fuck did you just call me?" Blaise’s face contorted quicker than a shifting boggart.

Another eye roll. “The pasta, it’s made from edamame.” Theo pronounces it with a certain twinge of pomposity that would have Percy Weasley reeling. Too many syllables. Vowels too lengthy. “Type of soybean, I reckon.” 

"IT'S NOT PASTA!" Blaise’s roar shook the walls of the foyer. 

Pansy snorts into her mug. “I don’t know about you, but I think this dinner will go swimmingly.” 

A crash echoes from the kitchen and Theo lets out a screech that rivals grindylows. 

Pansy takes a long, calm sip. Likely pumpkin juice. Draco wouldn’t be surprised if it were laced with some pre-appetizer spirits. How she managed to deal with Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum was beyond him. Hell, he needed some right about now. At least to dial down the nerves. Not to mention the spike in blood pressure provoked by his flatmates. 

The remaining minutes pass like clockwork and before he knows it, the front door dings. Never has a bell sounded more menacing than now. Why is he so nervous? She’s met them a few times before and they’ve definitely shared rounds of drinks. No doubt, gone to Diagon Alley with Parkinson, Lovegood, and Weasley. The tolerable one. 

Did he clean his room? 

Theo promised to dust right after tea but the bloke was delusional about everything except Lovegood. A bit poetic, not that Draco ever cared to admit it. 

Pansy and Blaise stopped by the market yesterday and restocked the pantries and fridge. 

And then Luna dropped off her bag of goodies this morning. 

“She’s early.” Theo stuck his head out from the kitchen. Why was he covered in flour? 

So many questions. Draco didn’t even care to know the answers to half of them. 

“She’s always early when she’s excited.” 

The three stooges stand shell shocked and stare at Pansy. They just stare. 

She blinks like an owl and shakes her head. “Honestly, are you three just going to stand there or is someone’s boyfriend going to get the door?” 

Draco’s brain registers the words too late for his liking. He’s dead sober but his brain is all fuzzy. Just as she’s about to knock for a second round, Draco’s feet propel him to the door so fast a whip of apparition cracks. 

The door clicks open to reveal a dazzling frame. Hermione Granger is, to say the least, an unreal figment of everything good in the world. War heroine, member of the Order of the Phoenix, magical, academic, and practical genius, pure in mind and soul, and his girlfriend. His girlfriend. His. Donning a pair of black leggings and a flowing cream blouse, she’s bundled in a beige trench coat and blush pink scarf. Dark mahogany brown ankle boots boost her height by a few centimeters. Draco still overshadows her by a good head or two. Nevertheless, it’s a thoughtful effort. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. 

“Hello—woah!’ 

Draco’s arms are around her instantly and she’s brought into the house. His broad shoulders envelop her into a cloaked embrace that lets his scent wash over her. He never wants to let go. 

Initially surprised at the abrupt shift in balance, Hermione relaxes into his hold within seconds. He still smells like her soap and Draco and… smoking?

“Blaise!” a female voice shrieks. “Don’t just stand there Theo, do something!” 

A cloud of smoke—contained by a bubble charm, thanks to Pansy—swirls above the stovetop, large and foreboding. The source? A deep green crockpot placed on one of the burners.

Wait. Why is a crockpot on the burner? Hermione wonders.

“I told you we needed to salt the water and add the rosemary! Now you’ve got balfspracks all over the bloody place!” Theo’s voice changed from panic to mockery. He turned his nose upright and growled in a nasal tone. “‘Oh, salt is acceptable, but rosemary? Unacceptable. A disgrace to all cuisine Italian. May as well—’”

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. By the end of the day, he’d probably have to ask Hermione to heal his bruises. “Bloody hell…” 

“Oh, it’s my fault now, is it?” Hermione realizes Blaise’s name suits him very well. Almost too well. In any other life, he might have been sorted into Gryffindor with that fiery temperament. “Next time we have a guest over, we’re ordering take-out. From Hogsmeade!” 

“Someone help me get rid of this burnt pot of—whatever the hell pasta Theo was making,” Pansy gags while trying to contain the swelling bubble. The scent is overwhelming. Something between seaweed and polyjuice. Perhaps a vile mixture of the two. 

“EDAMAME!” 

“NOT PASTA!” 

Draco can’t tell whether he wants to burst into laughter or cry. Maybe he’ll do both. Hermione was there to wipe away the snot or tears, regardless of whichever it would end up being. 

Giving him a chase kiss, Hermione placed the gifts in his hands and made her way to the lounge. Draco was going to kill them. He was going to kill them dead.

She pulled out her want and raised it towards the giant orb of smoke, confidence igniting her eyes. Her wand moved as if it were on its own, guided purely by magic and intent with an undeniable essence of Granger. She draws a broad circle that covers the entire room and summons the wisps of smoke like a magnet. The ashy tendrils of burnt food claw their way out of the floorboards and ceiling cracks, latching on for as long as they can before they’re drawn out Aiming towards the ajar door, the coils of smoke and singe are thrown out the entrance with a deafening gust. 

A single strand of hair falls out of her ponytail. 

She blows it out of her eyes with a single, deliberate puff. 

The corner of her lip quirks upwards the slightest. 

It’s so fast you’d miss it if you blinked. 

If Draco wasn’t so overcome with the urge to skin his friends, he’d dive in there right now and kiss her numb. 

The flat has returned to an atmosphere of calm. 

“Fucking finally,” Draco mutters out loud. Not intentionally but he doesn’t regret it one bit. 

Pansy, Theo, and Blaise resemble owls; wide eyes, unmoving bodies, twitching necks that swivel side to side. 

Theo breaks the silence with something along the lines of a chortle. “Welcome to our humble abode, Granger.” 

“Pleasure to have you here,” Blaise adds. His hands are still clenched around Theo’s shirt collar. 

Pansy is still trying to catch her breath having inhaled a hefty amount of the fumes. Blaise and Theo had probably tumbled around the living room enough to avoid the thick of it. Still, she refuses to let it impede on her hostess abilities. 

“Hermione!” Pansy coughs. “Why don’t you and Draco check out upstairs while—” she pauses to glare daggers at the two boys covered in God knows what, “—we deal with the mess down here.” 

Hermione draws out the excess smoke from Pansy’s clothes and hair with a swish of her wand. The next thing she does makes the three boys’ jaws unhinge. They bring each other into a warm hug and laughter rings in the air.

“It’s good to see you too, Pans,” Hermione breathes. Draco was definitely going to have a fit over this later.

Hermione gives Theo and Blaise a shy wave. Hopefully, they’d understand. In any other instance, she’d be more than happy to rid their clothes of the stench. They wouldn’t even have to ask. But this was Pansy Parkinson and if Hermione knew Pansy Parkinson, she knew that the Slytherin would want to drag on punishment as long as possible before even thinking of succumbing to forgiveness. 

Hermione Granger’s stubbornness coupled with her Gryffindor loyalty? 

She’ll be damned if she lets either waver when surrounded by friends. 

Draco clears his throat forcefully and offers his arm. “Upstairs then, shall we?” 

Hermione loops her arm through his and grins. It’s contagious and Draco already feels his anger ebb into affection. 

She speaks almost as lightheartedly as the wand movement for a levitation charm. "We shall." 

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #dramione imagine #draco x hermione #theo nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #dramione fanfic #incorrect dramione quotes #hermione x draco #post wizarding war #crack fic #dramione headcanon #harry potter #hp quotes