It starts, as many disasters do, with Idia Shroud being too smart for his own good.

More specifically: too smart to turn down a request from Malleus Draconia when it’s framed as academic curiosity.

“I was informed,” Malleus says, standing in Ignihyde’s lounge like he belongs there (he does not), “that you possess an extensive archive of interactive simulations.”

Idia squints at him from behind his screen. “You mean video games.”

“Yes.”

“…You could’ve just said that.”

Malleus inclines his head. “I am still learning the terminology.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

Instead, twenty minutes later, Malleus is seated far too close beside him, watching the screen with quiet fascination while Idia Shroud tries very hard to ignore how aware he is of… everything. The proximity. The attention. The fact that Malleus actually listens.

“This creature appears hostile,” Malleus remarks.

“That’s a slime. It literally exists to die.”

“…Fascinating.”

Idia snorts despite himself.

Time passes. The tension doesn’t leave—it just softens into something easier. Familiar, almost. Malleus leans closer at some point, one hand braced against the back of Idia’s chair, close enough that Idia can feel it without looking.

“You reacted earlier,” Malleus says, thoughtful. “When I adjusted your sleeve.”

Idia freezes. “…Did I.”

“Yes.”

“It was a reflex.”

“A reflex,” Malleus repeats, like he’s tasting the word.

Idia waves a hand. “Yeah, you know, like— nerves. People have those. It’s not a thing.”

Malleus studies him. Idia immediately regrets everything.

“May I test this?” Malleus asks.

“Nope.”

Malleus does not move.

“…You’re gonna do it anyway,” Idia mutters.

“Only with your permission.”

There’s a pause. A terrible, fatal pause.

Idia exhales sharply. “…Just— don’t make it weird.”

Malleus’s fingers brush his wrist.

Light. Curious.

Idia jolts with a sharp, startled, “H-hey!” a breathy laugh slipping out before he can stop it as he yanks his arm back. “D-don’t—!”

Malleus immediately withdraws. “My apologies.”

“No, it’s— it’s fine, just—See? Reflex!” Idia tugs his sleeve down like that fixes anything. “Told you.”

Malleus hums.

He does not look convinced. 

“So this is the nature of it,” he murmurs. “You are ticklish.”

Idia’s brain short-circuits. “D—don’t say it like that!”

“Ticklish,” Malleus repeats, just to watch him react.

Idia shoots to his feet. “We’re done. Session over. You’re banned—!”

The chair wobbles. Malleus reaches out to steady it—

—and his fingers brush Idia’s side.

Everything goes downhill. Idia’s laugh breaks out of him in a startled, helpless burst. “A—ah—! W—wait—!”

Malleus stills for half a second, eyes lighting with realization. “…Ah.”

“Oh no,” Idia breathes, already backing up. “Don’t—don’t you dare!”

Malleus steps forward instead, slow and deliberate, like approaching something fascinating rather than cornering someone.

“I shall proceed gently,” he says.

“That’s worse—!”

Malleus’s hands find his sides again—light, barely-there scribbles through the fabric of his hoodie.

Idia folds.

“H-HAH—! N-no! D-don’t—!” His hands snap down to grab at Malleus’s wrists, laughter spilling out in uneven bursts. “I- I can’t! Thahahat’s—!”

Malleus’s touch is careful, exploratory—fingers tracing, pausing, then returning just enough to keep Idia laughing without overwhelming him.

“You are remarkably reactive,” Malleus notes, amused.

“S-shuhut up—! Y-you're doihing thahat on puhurpose—!” Idia gasps between laughs, shoulders hunching as he tries (and fails) to curl away. “D-don’t— n-not th-there—!”

“Here?” Malleus tests lightly along his side again.

Idia squeaks, laughter pitching higher. “NO—! N-nohoho—! Stahap—! I meheant— hah—not thahat—!”

“Ah. Then perhaps…”

Malleus’s fingers shift slightly higher.

Idia jerks with a sharp, breathless laugh, nearly losing his grip. “A—AH—! Malleus-ssi—! D-dohohon’t—! I swehehear—!”

Malleus pauses just enough for him to suck in a breath and then resumes, softer this time, almost absent-minded in how he traces little patterns against Idia’s sides.

Idia’s laughter dissolves into a string of helpless giggles. “I- I- cahan’t—! Y-you're gohohonna k-kill me—!”

“I assure you, I am not,” Malleus says calmly. “Though your reaction is… captivating.”

“Y-yeah? W-well— y-you're teherrible—!” Idia tries to glare, but it collapses into another burst of laughter when Malleus’s fingers lightly scribble again. “N-nohoho— plehehease—!”

“Are you requesting that I stop?”

“Y-yes! No—! I- I dohon’t—know—!” Idia wheezes, mortified, laughter still bubbling out of him. “J—just— hah—give me— a sehec—!”

Malleus withdraws immediately.

The absence of touch is almost as jarring as the tickling itself.

Idia stumbles back against his desk, breathing hard, face burning as he drags his sleeve over his mouth. “…You’re the worst.”

Malleus watches him with quiet interest—and something softer.

“Your laughter,” he says, gentler now, “is quite different from your usual disposition.”

Idia groans. “If you ever tell anyone—”

“I would not,” Malleus replies easily, then pausing for a moment. “…Though I will admit,” he adds, a faint smile returning, “I am tempted to continue my research.”

Idia immediately recoils. “Absolutely not!”

Malleus laughs, low and warm, and lifts his hands in surrender.

“For now,” he concedes.

Idia narrows his eyes, still flushed, still catching his breath. “…You’re banned from touching me ever again.”

“I shall endeavor to remember that,” Malleus says.

The way he says it makes it very clear he will not.

Idia sinks back into his chair, hiding his face. “…I hate this. I hate you. I hate that I let you in here.”

Malleus glances around the lounge, then back at him.

“I am glad you did.”

Idia peeks through his fingers, expression softening despite himself.

“…Yeah,” he mutters.

Until it came to times like these, when he knew that it was up to him to get Idia to sleep. Before they got together, Idia rarely showed up to class and when he did, he bore these horrid eye bags that made it appear as though he hadn’t slept in days. Now, Vil knew it was often because he would get so caught up in his games that he’d simply forget to fall asleep.

He heard Idia curse on the screen under his breath. He glanced at the screen, trying to make a guess at what happened, but with all the numbers and bright colors and everything on the screen, he felt much more confused and decided not to wonder about it. He stood up from Idia’s better, yawning a bit.

“Idia, it’s time for us to sleep. You’ll get bags under your eyes,” Vil said, putting a shoulder on Idia’s. Idia locked eyes with him before hesitantly looking back at his game.

“But I need to build her!” He points at a pink-haired female character on the screen. “She’s a dps so she’d do wonders on my team!”

…Whatever that meant.

“Is it something that could wait tomorrow?”

“...Yes, but–”

“Then let’s sleep.”

Idia looked back at VIl again, then at the game, then at Vil, having some sort of inner battle in his head.

“Okay, I will, but let me–”

“Idia.”

“Just one thing!” For a moment, Vil considered giving in, but he looked at the time, which was soon to be one in the morning and frowned.

“Don’t make me punish you.”

Idia turned, a bit of fear in his eyes but his gaze slowly turned back to the game. With his gaze still on Vil, he actually had the gall to try clicking at the computer without even looking. Vil stared at him for a moment, almost a bit shocked that Idia still hadn’t decided to listen to him, but when he came back to his senses, he narrowed his eyes at his partner.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Vil said.

“Wait, wait, waitwaitwait– Nohoho! I’m sohohorry!” Idia cried, trying to stand from his chair when Vil started tickling him, which is something he had not been prepared for. Vil could understand why. He didn’t really ‘punish’ the other like this, but that was because Idia often listened to him straight away. He had to learn his lesson.

“It’s too late to apologize,” Vil replies. It’s a bit awkward to tickle him in this position, but Vil can manage. His fingers run along Idia’s sides and tummy, his long nails proving to be very effective as Idia flailed about, unable to move.

The tips of Idia’s ears were tinged pink, his face matching the pink tone. It was adorable, to be frank.

“Gahaha! Vil, lehehet’s tahalk!”

“Talk? I already gave you that option, and you refused me. Take your punishment.”

“Nohoho!” Idia cried, embarrassed as he moved to cover his face. Vil couldn’t help the smirk from forming on his face as he used that as an opportunity to get underneath Idia’s arms. Idia’s hands shot down instantly, as he reflexively tried to grab at Vil’s hands.

“I never knew you were this ticklish,” Vil pointed out, and it’s true. Tickling isn’t necessarily something Vil did often, and when he tickled Idia, it was never more than a poke to the side to catch his attention.

“Nohoho! Thihihis is u-unfair!” Idia gasped, squirming in the seat. His attention wasn’t even the slightest bit on the game anymore, too distracted by the ticklish sensations.

“Unfair? I’m sure you’re loving this right now.” Vil moved to squeeze at Idia’s hips, and the shriek Idia let out is loud enough for Vil to worry about him waking up the whole dorm, so he tries to ease up just a bit.

Idia doesn’t say anything in response to Vil’s words, but the way his blush grew told him all he needed to know. It was something that Vil decided to note in his head that maybe he should do things like this more often.

“Sohohomewhere else!” Idia laughed, looking to be a bit overwhelmed so Vil listened to him. Good that at least one of them can listen to the other, he jokingly thinks so himself.

This time, he started to poke and prod at Idia’s ribs, which seemed to not be as sensitive to the other, so Vil lingered, feeling generous enough to grant him some mercy. Idia’s laughter was loud and chaotic, much different compared to his quieter, more snarky laugh he usually had. Vil wondered which one he liked more.

“Vihihil!’ Idia cackled, and Vil waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, he raised a brow.

“Use your words,” Vil chuckled and Idia laughed, but it seemed as though he was trying to speak.

“I’ll sleheheep! I wihihill sleheheheep!” Idia exclaimed at last, overwhelmed.

“Will you now?” Vil asked, amused.

“Yehehes! Nohoho mohohore! Mehehercy!” Idia screeched, and Vil chuckled a bit more, before stopping completely. It took him a bit to catch his breath, the sound of him exhaling deeply the only thing that can be heard besides the quiet background playing from the computer.

“Let’s go to sleep now. It’s far too late.” Vil said, finally sure that Idia would obey him. Idia nodded, turning towards the computer to shut it off as Vil went towards the bed, but after a few extra clicks, VIl raised his brow. It doesn’t take that long to shut off the computer. When he turned to his boyfriend, he noticed Idia trying to get a few last minute clicks in and when Vil cleared his throat, he whipped his head around.

“Idia…”

“Okay, okay! I can just do it tomorrow…” Idia shut off his computer, looking a bit disappointed, but his mood lightened up a bit when Vil patted the bed next to him, urging Idia to come lay with him.

“Goodnight, Vil…”

Lee

-This man gets the *worst* lee moods but he’s too shy to ask anyone to tickle him so he suffers in silence.

-If the stars align and someone is not only near him but also sensing his lee mood he’ll nervously scoot away from them (he desperately wants them to tickle him)

-His death spots are his sides and his neck

-While being tickled he tries so hard to stifle his laughter (he fails spectacularly)

-Shouts “I hate you” at his ler

-Hides in his hoodie or in a blanket until either his lee leaves or the tickle drunk-ness wears off. Whichever comes last.

Ler

-He doesn’t strike me as anyone who’d ever be a ler

-But if he were he’d mainly use his nails to lightly scratch his lee

-He’s always quiet. No teases, no laughing, nothing. He just smiles softly the whole time.