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Life Is Strange 2

Project Sekai / Colorful Stage

Degrassi

Tales of

Shin Megami Tensei / Persona

Idolmaster

Yakuza / Ryu ga Gotoku

Uncharted

Telltale’s The Walking Dead

The Umbrella Academy

Skins UK

Misfits

The Fosters & Good Trouble

Big Hero 6

Encanto

Spider-Man PS4 & Miles Morales

Zero Escape

Ace Attorney

All American & AA: Homecoming

Fire Emblem (Awakening)

Fics in Progress

LIS2 - Sean & Daniel

LIS2 - Esteban & Sean

Fire Emblem Awakening - Frederick & Chrom & Lissa

Project Sekai - Tsukasa & Rui & Nene

Encanto - Various Lees/Lers, Camilo & Everyone

Tales of Arise - Alphen & Law

Tales of Arise - Lee!Dohalim

Uncharted - Nate & Sam

Uncharted - Nate/Elena

All American - Spelivia + Coop

All American: Homecoming - Damon and JR

Degrassi - Dave, Wesley & Connor

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow through the small, cozy windows of the Diaz household. Esteban, still wearing his mechanic’s uniform, walked in from the kitchen with an armful of cleaned-up clutter—Sean’s hoodie, a stray pencil, and some folded laundry. It had been a quiet Saturday, and while Daniel was out playing with Chris, Esteban was making the most of the peaceful atmosphere to tidy up. He shook his head with a small smile as he glanced at Sean’s room, the door ajar and the teenager’s usual mess peeking through. “Ay, hijo,” he muttered, stepping in to drop off Sean’s things.

The room smelled faintly of pencil shavings and the faint musk of a teenager’s constant presence. Sean’s sketchbook lay on his desk, propped open like an invitation. Esteban hesitated. He knew how personal Sean’s art was, but curiosity got the better of him. “Just one peek,” he said softly to himself, setting down the pile and carefully lifting the book.

He flipped through the pages slowly, his eyebrows lifting in admiration. The sketches were a mix of intricate landscapes, portraits, and whimsical doodles, showcasing Sean’s growing talent. He smiled proudly at a particularly detailed sketch of Daniel playing with his action figures, Sean’s care for his little brother shining through in the precision of the lines.

Then, Esteban turned to the latest page. He froze.

The drawing was striking, almost photographic in its level of detail. It depicted Sean himself, sitting on the floor with his head thrown back in hysterical laughter, his face scrunched in pure joy. His feet were bare, his ankles firmly held by a figure unmistakably modeled after Esteban, whose wide grin matched Sean’s mirth. One of Esteban’s hands was locked around Sean’s legs, keeping him still, while the other was mid-motion, fingers digging into the soles of Sean’s feet. Even the texture of Sean’s bare feet was rendered with care, from the soft creases near his toes to the slight curve of his arch.

At the bottom of the page, Sean had written a journal entry in his usual scrawling script:

“November 11th.

I don’t even know why I remembered this today, but it made me smile, so I drew it. This was probably a year ago, back when I was 15. Dad was being so annoying (as usual) and decided to tickle me out of nowhere. He grabbed my ankles, and I was done for. Seriously, there was no escape. He knows I’m super ticklish, but especially on my feet. It was like he had a personal vendetta against me or something. His fingers were EVERYWHERE—under my toes, along my arches, even the tops of my feet, and it tickled SO bad, but I couldn’t stop laughing. I literally couldn’t breathe. He’s such a relentless tickler. I remember yelling at him to stop, and he just laughed and said, ‘No way, mijo. You need to smile more!’

I pretended to hate it, but honestly… I kind of miss it. I don’t know, things were simpler then. It felt nice to laugh like that. I guess I’ve been a little moody lately (ok, a lot moody), but sometimes I wish Dad would mess with me like he used to. Not that I’d ever admit that to him. Ever.”

Esteban read the entry twice, his heart swelling. He didn’t realize Sean still thought about moments like that. Sean had been pulling away more and more lately, retreating into his art and that teenage moodiness Esteban knew was normal but still hard to navigate. He missed the days when Sean would crack jokes or wrestle on the couch without rolling his eyes.

A playful idea formed in his mind.

Sean was lounging on the living room couch, scrolling through his phone, his legs stretched out and—surprisingly—barefoot. He had kicked off his sneakers and socks earlier, his toes idly flexing as he mindlessly swiped through his messages.

Esteban entered the room, casual as ever. “Hey, mijo. Relaxing?” he asked, sitting down on the couch beside Sean’s legs.

Sean glanced up. “Yeah. Daniel’s not here, so I figured I’d enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

Esteban chuckled. “Good idea.” He leaned back, pretending to watch the muted TV, though his eyes occasionally flicked to Sean’s feet. “You know, you used to run around barefoot all the time when you were little. I’d yell at you to put on shoes, and you’d just laugh and keep running.”

Sean smirked, not looking up from his phone. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t smart back then.”

“Oh, really? So you’re smart now?”

“Smarter than you,” Sean teased, though his tone was light.

Esteban laughed, patting Sean’s shin. “Careful, hijo. I still remember when you used to cry because I’d tickle you too much.”

Sean’s head snapped up, his face immediately guarded. “Wait… why are you bringing that up?”

“Why not? You were so ticklish. Especially—” Esteban reached down and lightly poked the sole of Sean’s foot.

Sean flinched so hard he nearly dropped his phone. “DAD! Don’t!”

“Ohhh,” Esteban said, grinning mischievously. “So you’re still ticklish there, huh?”

“No. Nope. Not at all. Don’t even think about it,” Sean said quickly, pulling his feet away and sitting up. His face had gone red, and his voice cracked slightly with nervousness.

Esteban’s grin widened. “Too late. I’m thinking about it.”

Before Sean could react, Esteban pounced, grabbing Sean’s ankles just like in the drawing. “Gotcha, mijo!” he said triumphantly.

“Dad, NO!” Sean shrieked, already laughing as he tried to squirm free. But Esteban had a firm grip, just as he’d had that day Sean had drawn. With one hand holding Sean’s legs steady, he used his free hand to spider his fingers across the soles of Sean’s feet.

Sean erupted into hysterics, his laughter high-pitched and uncontrollable. “STOHOHOP! DAD! PLEHEHEASE!”

“Stop? You mean like this?” Esteban teased, focusing on the arches of Sean’s feet, dragging his fingers in slow, torturous circles. Sean’s whole body jolted, and he threw his head back against the couch, his laughter turning breathless.

“DAD! I CAHAHAN’T!” Sean gasped, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. His hands clawed at the couch cushions as he twisted and kicked, but Esteban held firm.

“Man, you’re still just as ticklish as I remember,” Esteban said, switching techniques. He scratched lightly under Sean’s toes, making Sean shriek and curl them instinctively. “What’s the matter? You wanted me to mess with you more, right?”

Sean could barely form words through his laughter. “HOW—WH—YOU READ MY JOURNAL?!”

Esteban laughed. “I did. And you were right—things were simpler then. So let’s bring it back, huh?”

Sean flailed helplessly as Esteban tickled the tops of his feet, then moved back to the sensitive spots just beneath his toes. Each new area seemed to elicit a different reaction—squealing, breathless giggles, or full-on laughter that left him gasping.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Sean, Esteban relented, letting go of his ankles. Sean immediately curled up, hugging his knees and glaring at his dad through teary eyes.

“You’re the worst,” he panted, though his grin betrayed him.

Esteban ruffled Sean’s hair. “Nah, I’m the best. And you know it.”

Sean’s face turned red again. “Whatever.”

“Hey,” Esteban said more gently, his tone softening. “It’s okay to miss stuff like that, Sean. I miss it, too. You’ve been growing up so fast, but you’re still my kid. And I’ll always be here to annoy you when you need it.”

Sean’s glare softened. He hesitated, then leaned over to give Esteban a quick hug. “Thanks, Dad. Just… don’t do that again.”

Esteban smirked. “No promises.” Before Sean could react, Esteban grabbed his ankles again. “One more for the road!”

The smell of popcorn wafted from the kitchen into the living room, where Daniel sat cross-legged on the couch, eagerly sorting through a stack of board games. The TV hummed faintly in the background, tuned to one of Esteban’s favorite old Westerns, though no one was paying much attention to it.

Esteban walked into the living room with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn, grinning at Daniel’s enthusiasm.

“Alright, champ,” he said, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. “Pick your weapon for the night. Monopoly? Scrabble? Or are we brave enough for Clue?”

Daniel’s face lit up. “Clue! But I’m definitely not gonna be Professor Plum. He’s always the bad guy!”

Esteban chuckled, ruffling Daniel’s hair as he sat down on the couch. “Alright, but don’t complain when you lose again. Where’s your brother? He’s usually the first to pick a game piece.”

Daniel shrugged. “Sean’s in his room. I think he’s drawing again.” He rolled his eyes with all the dramatic flair a nine-year-old could muster. “He said game night was for babies.”

“Did he now?” Esteban raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, I think your brother’s forgetting how much fun we used to have. I’ll go remind him.”

Daniel giggled. “Good luck! He never listens to me!”

Esteban winked. “Oh, I’ve got my ways.”

—-

Sean was sprawled across his bed, legs stretched out, sketchbook balanced on his knees. His pencil moved deftly across the page, capturing the contours of a skatepark he had seen earlier that week. The light from his desk lamp cast a warm glow, highlighting the focused furrow of his brow.

Esteban leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Should’ve known I’d find you in here, hijo.”

Sean glanced up briefly. “Hey, Dad.” His tone was casual, but distracted, his attention already back on his sketch.

“We’re about to start game night,” Esteban said, stepping into the room. “You coming?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Sean replied without looking up.

Esteban smirked, walking closer. “Good? C’mon, mijo, you used to love game night. What happened?”

Sean shrugged, his pencil moving in slow, deliberate strokes. “I don’t know. I guess I just outgrew it.”

“Ouch,” Esteban said, feigning hurt as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Outgrew it? That’s what you’re going with? You used to beg me for game night.”

Sean snorted softly but didn’t reply.

Esteban’s gaze drifted to Sean’s sock-clad feet, stretched out at the end of the bed. A memory flickered in his mind, and his smirk widened. “You know, I remember another time you ‘outgrew’ game night. You were, what, ten? Eleven?”

Sean paused his sketching, glancing at his dad suspiciously. “Uh… maybe?”

Esteban leaned back, casually draping an arm over the back of the bed. “Yeah. And you said the same thing. But you know what always worked to change your mind?”

Sean’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Esteban grinned mischievously. “This.”

Before Sean could react, Esteban reached down and grabbed his ankles, trapping them under one arm.

“Whoa, whoa!” Sean exclaimed, twisting slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, just reminiscing,” Esteban said innocently. “Remember how ticklish you used to be?”

Sean froze for a moment, then tried to tug his legs free. “Dad. Don’t.”

Esteban ignored him, his free hand hovering over Sean’s feet. “You know, I always wondered what made your feet so ticklish. Was it the arches? The heels? Oh! Or maybe—” He tapped Sean’s toes through the fabric of his socks. “These guys.”

“Dad, seriously!” Sean squirmed, his voice tinged with both annoyance and a hint of nervous laughter.

Esteban chuckled. “Relax, mijo. I’m just testing a theory.” With that, he tugged off one of Sean’s socks in a single smooth motion.

“Hey!” Sean protested, jerking his foot, but Esteban tightened his grip.

“Ah, there it is,” Esteban said, holding up the sock like a trophy. “The bare foot. Vulnerable. Exposed. I bet you’re already thinking about laughing, huh?”

Sean glared at him, though his lips twitched. “I’m not a kid anymore, Dad. That doesn’t work on me.”

“Hmm,” Esteban said thoughtfully, slipping the first sock into his pocket. “We’ll see.” He turned his attention to Sean’s other foot.

“Don’t you dare—” Sean started, but Esteban was already pulling the second sock free.

“Too late,” Esteban said cheerfully, holding both socks hostage. “Now what do we have here? Two ticklish feet, all ready to join game night.”

Sean groaned, trying to pull his feet back, but Esteban’s grip was ironclad. “Alright, fine! I’ll play! Just let me go!”

Esteban raised an eyebrow. “Hmm… tempting. But you know the rules, Sean. You don’t get off that easy.”

Before Sean could argue, Esteban’s fingers began to dance across his bare soles, starting with light, teasing strokes along the arches.

“D-Dad!” Sean yelped, his voice breaking into laughter. “Stop! Hahaha! Seriously!”

“Oh, come on,” Esteban teased. “This used to be your favorite part!” His fingers moved faster, skimming the sensitive spots beneath Sean’s toes. “I think it’s the arches that get you the most. Or maybe…” He dug gently into the balls of Sean’s feet, earning a loud squeal.

“HAHAHA! STOP! OKAY! OKAY!” Sean was practically doubled over, trying to grab at Esteban’s hands, but his dad was relentless.

Daniel’s voice called from the living room. “What’s going on in there? Sean’s screaming like a baby!”

Esteban grinned down at his son. “Should I tell him what’s happening? Or should I keep going?”

Sean was gasping for air, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “No! Don’t! Hahaha! I’ll play, I swear!”

Esteban finally relented, releasing Sean’s ankles and standing up with a triumphant smile. “That’s what I thought.”

Sean sat up, glaring at his dad as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re the worst.”

“You love it,” Esteban said, tossing Sean’s socks over his shoulder. “These? I’m keeping them safe until game night’s over. Wouldn’t want you running off, now would we?”

Sean groaned, reluctantly following his dad out of the room, still barefoot and glaring.

When they reached the living room, Daniel burst out laughing. “Sean, what happened to your socks?”

“Don’t. Ask,” Sean muttered, sitting down on the couch.

Esteban smirked, holding up a game piece. “Ready, Señor Barefoot?”

Sean shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s just play.”