Isaac's grip on the microphone tightens at Akira's own attempt at a joke. The laugh that comes out is so obviously forced and fake that Isaac stops as soon as he's begun. "Ah, huh, um, no...if it's a singing thing, then no I don't. I don't even like singing for that matter, or I guess most songs with lyrics just aren't...yeah..." He answers too honestly and can feel his face heating up a bit because of it, grip slowly becoming cold and clammy as he looks breaks eye contact.
On the topic of his work, however, he starts fumbling again. As soon as Akira's eyes wander over all of his tools, Isaac's quick to start cleaning it all up. It was as if Gwynne was here, staring at his constantly messy room and sighing loudly before helping him clean up, except now it was an instilled part of his brain to be self-conscious over it. Tools were placed properly in tool boxes or part of his workbench, screws and wires shoved into little boxes or any nook he can find, dust wiped of with shaky hands only to get the floor dirty in the process. "A-Ah, sorry - you weren't interrupting me at all! I should've started cleaning up ages ago - I know this place is such a mess; I should say sorry..." is the only excuse that falls from his lips as he tries his best to look so put together, yet also so busy, yet also so polite, and so alright, and so alright, and so...
...But Akira was still there. And they say that sentence he doesn't really want to hear, but appreciates nonetheless. Isaac pauses his small frenzy to just stare at his desk for a minute, fingers tracing over a layer of dust that catches his eye. "...You don't have to say that, comrade. You weren't "insensitive" at all - none of ya were. You all were talking about...similarities, which should hopefully help you you all out...somehow. At the very least, it makes you feel more at home to know we're not so different in some ways, huh?" He tries to sound chipper throughout, but his more quiet tone and downcast gaze betrays him, and he knows it. A knot forms in his chest when he realizes that he's unconsciously just been tracing a circle, using the side of his hand to wipe it away harshly. "...You don't have to be so conscious of me, you know? I'll be fine, I promise, so you can talk about whatever you want to without worrying..."
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The sideway swirled around each of his steps as Isaac staggered his way towards the building heâd only been to a handful of times. His head spun, and the comforting fog of a drug induced haze settled over his mind, making him feel safe--for the moment. Perhaps heâd taken too much, but the high always seemed to keep the threat of Kohl at bay, and the electricity in his bones calm. His tongue felt thick as he approached what he assumed was the correct apartment building. A figure exited the building, leaving Isaac just enough time to catch the door before it closed. Once inside he put an arm to the wall to steady himself, his gloved hand scraping over his sweaty face. The sight of the stairs in front of him made his stomach twist and instead he eyed the elevator across the room.Â
It seemed to take forever for his body to move through the thick air, but he finally found his way into the lift, his hand slapping a few buttons, sure heâd pressed the right one. It was a miracle that the young man had even managed to find his way to the building, let alone find the correct room, but somehow he did. He pushed his hands against the door, leaning into it before banging harshly with his fist. âBryan.â His voice was quiet, barely audible above his knocking. After a moment, he turned, pressing his back to the wall beside the door, sliding slowly down till his arms rested against his knees and his head rested against his hands.
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Authorâs Note: So this is my first fic Iâve done in a while, it was really honestly forever ago when I wrote one. But this is also my first tickle fic, and what better way to celebrate that than by writing about a couple of my adorable OCs? You can check them out on the link âOC Linksâ on my blog, and I suggest you do and ask me about them bc I love to talk about my darlings. <3
Also thanks to @nerdy-giggles for convincing me to post this bc theyâre a sweetie. And what are titles.
ANYWAY.
Summary: Myarel is getting rather annoyed with Isaacâs pranks. Finally he corners Isaac and gets his revenge. Isaac learns that he probably shouldnât mess with his friend like this again...
Warnings: No real warnings here, just some language. All of my fics will be sex-free. :3
Isaac- Hebrew name that translates to âlaughterâ or âhe laughsâ.
The white-haired man was enjoying the quiet that came with the dusk, sitting in the barnâs loft and facing the road, smoking a cigarette and letting the smoke out through his nose. The sun had just barely set, and the moon was beginning to rise. One of his bare feet was hanging down above the doors to the barn, the other propped on the edge of the loft. He was aware that he had hay on his jacket, but he didnât careâ the peace and quiet was worth it.
Especially since Isaac had been messing with him for the past 3 days.
First heâd offered Myarel a cigarette, but it turned out to be a joke buzzer disguised as a cigarette box. Next time he put an ice cube down the back of Myarelâs shirtâ one of the reasons why he rarely wore shirts, and only his jacket. Cold didnât bother him, but cold sliding down the back of his shirt without warning did. Then heâd done the old-as-dirt whipped cream and feather trickâ and he ran off before Myarel could smack him with his cream-covered hand. Heâd put a bucket filled with ice water on top of the door to the barn and nearly broken a rib laughing when Myarel glared at him like an angry, wet cat. Heâd tied Myarelâs ankles together while he was dozing and shoved him, and Myarel fell flat on his face getting up to chase him. Heâd taken off with Myarelâs jacket and gave it to Lyn, who, thankfully, was kind enough to give it back.
The last time Isaac pranked him was when he innocently gave a sleep-deprived Myarel a cup of coffee⊠with salt instead of sugar. Isaac took off and Myarel just smacked his head on the kitchen table, groaning. Lyn was snorting as he patted Myarelâs back.
âDamn, man, heâs been gettinâ you good, ainât he?â
Myarel mumbled something in German under his breath, and the Southerner ruffled his hair. âDonâ worry. Heâll slip up, ân then you c'n get âim.â
Myarel purred slightly at the fingers in his hair, and then the blind man was gone.
And now here he was in the loft of the barn, hoping that, at the very least, Isaac was asleep. He was so focused on thinking about what had to be done tomorrow that he didnât notice Isaac creeping up behind him, silently ascending on the ladder and grabbing an armful of hay.
Without warning, Isaac dumped the hay on the older man, and Myarel nearly fell out of the loft. For a split second he felt panic rise in him, but he remembered his teleportation and disappeared, reappearing behind Isaac. The blond was bent over laughing, clutching his stomach and going pink in the face.
âFuck, mahan, that was so fuckinâ funny, you shouldâve seen how you reacted!â Isaac turned to face him, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Myarel was not pleasedâ he had hay everywhere. In his hair, in his jacket, covering his legs⊠his cigarette was clenched between his teeth, and it took all he had not to growl while he glared daggers at Isaac with sapphire eyes.
In his anger, he realized he was blocking Isaacâs escape routeâ and he got an evil idea of how to get his revenge. He smirked devilishly, and suddenly Isaacâs emerald eyes showed confusion and a little bit of fear. The demon put out his cigarette between his fingers, looking his friend in the eye.
âIsaac, mein freund⊠you fucked up.â
He grabbed Isaac by his vest, glad that the younger always kept his white undershirt unbuttoned, and pinned him down in the hay, straddling him and leaning over him with a vicious grin. âIâll give you something to laugh about.â
Isaac was babbling, already knowing what was going to happen, a goofy grin spreading across his face.
âMyarel, hey, Iâm sorry I messed with you, you donât have to do this, I-I promise Iâll stahahAHAHAP!â Isaacâs begging was cut off by Myarel sliding his fingers under his friendâs shirt and tickling under his arms. Just as Myarel thought, Isaac quickly brought his arms down, trapping the otherâs fingers there as he ducked his head to hide his blush.
âIsaac, you know I canât stop tickling you if youâve trapped my fingers.â The teasing was what drove the Russian insane, and Myarel, being the father of triplets, was far too good at it. Despite his instincts, Isaac lifted his arms enough to let the Germanâs hands go, only for them to dig into his ribcage, fingers vibrating between the bones.
Isaacâs ribs were nowhere near as ticklish, so his laughter died into hysterical giggles and snorts as he tried to grab Myarelâs hands to no avail. Myarel was also quite skilled at tickling, much to the blondâs dismay.
âNohoho, stohohop! Iâm gonna dihihihie!â He whined, throwing his head back against the hay, and Myarel just chuckled.
âDo you promise not to prank me anymore?â Isaac nodded vigorously. âIhihi dohohoho!â
Myarel looked like he was thinking for a moment. âHm, I believe you, but I think I should give you an⊠incentive, in case you decide to change your mind.â
âNoho, wahahAHAIT!â The white-haired man dug his fingers into Isaacâs tummy, causing him to shriek and dissolve into helpless laughter. He tried to buck his hips to get Myarel off of him, but there was no way to escapeâ and when Myarel wiggled a finger into his navel, Isaac swore he was literally going to die by being tickled too much.
It got worse when the demonâs fingers rested on his now-exposed hips, but instead of tickling them, Myarel lowered his face toward his friendâs stomach. His slight stubble made the blondâs tummy twitch, but he held in his giggles and tried to reason with the man.
âNoâ donât you fuckinâ dare! Iâllâ AHAHAHAHAHA!â His threat was cut short by a loud raspberry being blown onto his stomach, and if he thought it couldnât get worse before, it was now. Because while Myarel continued to blow raspberries and torment Isaacâs tummy with his stubble, his thumbs dug into Isaacâs hips.
âYouâll what, hm? Laugh? Thatâs not going to stop meâŠ. it seems youâve gotten more sensitive since the last time I tickled you, too. Thatâs rather adorable.â He knew he was really getting to the blond now, if the change in the pitch of his laughter told him anything.
Isaac felt like he was going insaneâ no amount of shoving, smacking, kicking, or squirming could get him anywhere, and eventually he just weakly pounded Myarelâs back with his fists, his laughter finally silent, his face bright red and his eyes overflowing with tears of mirth.
Myarel took pity on his friend and decided heâd had his revenge, and he relinquished his attack, moving off of Isaac and sitting next to him in the hay. The red bandana the ex-pirate wore was just barely on his head due to his earlier squirming, and Myarel removed it to ruffle his sweaty, mussed-up hair. Isaac managed to get out an insult while he was catching his breath, covering his face with his hands.
âYouâre such⊠a fuckinâ⊠jerkâŠâ The white-haired man was pinning him with a hand on his chest in seconds, squeezing one hip and running his fingers over the blondâs lower belly. âAm I, now?â
Isaac was laughing hysterically again, frantically pushing at Myarelâs arm. âNOHOHO, STAHAHAHAP, IHIâM SOHOHORRY! AHAHAHAHA!â
Myarel let Isaac go again, returning to ruffling his hair. This time Isaac was silent except for his panting, and eventually he stretched his arms above his head, letting out a yawn. Myarel chuckled, fondly looking down at the boy he considered not just a friend, but a little brother.
âLooks like I tired you out, hm?â Isaac nodded, eyelids fluttering as he tried to stay awake. Myarel snorted and helped Isaac stand up, putting an arm around him to steady his wobbly legs.
âTake my arm.â Isaac did so, and they were instantly inside the living room of Lynâs farmhouseâ Isaacâs room was on the ground floor, while Myarelâs was on the upper floor. Myarel kept his arm around the younger man and helped him to his room.
Isaac looked at the hay covering his clothes and clutched his bandana in his hand, rubbing the back of his neck. âI should really take a showerâŠâ Instantly, Myarel was wiggling his fingers at the other, and he nearly fell backwards while moving away, giggling nervously. âOkay, okay, Iâll goho to sleep!â Myarel seemed satisfied by that statement. He gently squeezed Isaacâs shoulder, a lopsided grin crossing his lips.
âGuten Nacht, Isaac.â He was gone in an instant. Isaac snorted and removed his hay-covered clothes, putting them in his laundry basket, and brushed the hay out of his hair and off of his face before laying down to sleep, only in his boxers. Once he was curled up under his blankets, he was out like a light.
He didnât notice that Myarel came back after about a half hour just to ruffle his hair and smile fondly at him again.
Myarel- ancient Demon name translating to âgentleâ or âhe who shows gentilityâ.
" take my hand again . " gran @ isaac but i dont wanna change browser :D
@toestalucia
Again. The word holds so much more weight than it should; much more feeling than it should. Or perhaps that's just Isaac's internal mindscape making such a vibrant ray of hope that much more bright. Of course, there's also the worry of burdening the captain over and over again - the same old song and dance that makes Isaac him and haw over ever being vulnerable or social or even just existing in space with others just because. But the captain always manages to drag him in effortlessly, while also respecting his own pace for integration into celebrations or gatherings. Small moments that can be just for the sake of enjoying being alive - Small gifts shared, tiny words of thanks given, little moments to open up and just...
He's...Oh God. "A-Ah...Ahaha, sorry, Comrade." Isaac stutters out, wiping at watery eyes and freshly fallen tears down his cheeks. The slightly cool night air brushes his hair back, and the moonlight illuminates much more of this scene than Isaac would like...But still, his grateful smile wobbles, holding back a sob with a gulp of fresh air. "Y-You should know that corny words like that can really tug at fragile minds and heartstrings, right?" He tries to joke, laugh shaky, but with the slightest lit that lets you know its somewhat genuine.
It takes a moment longer for the man to truly calm down, sniffling back every last sense of fear and doubt that could dare crawl out and ruin a good moment, before facing Gran head on. Taking their outstretched hand - his own cold and clammy, but grip with even more strength than he thought he had - he gives the captain a much softer smile. "Sorry for being such a sorry sight like this...But, thank you for always welcoming me aboard, captain."
