#lee!seer

Mirage was having a pretty good day. It wasn’t his turn to play in any of the Apex Games today, so he was able to get in an early workout. At least, early to him. He was never an early riser, insisting that he needed his beauty sleep, but he’d started hitting the weights fifteen minutes before noon. He was so pleased with himself that he gave himself (and his holograms) a high-five. 

Then came the fans.

At first, it was just a small crowd of one guy and two girls. They had their phones in hand and were speaking in hushed whispers. They tried not to make it obvious that they were staring at him, but they kept glancing down at their phone and back up at him. Elliott watched them for a bit. His muscles flexed as he did his dumbbell curls, and the whispers got a little bit a louder, mixed in with noticeable swoons. The trickster chuckled to himself and put the dumbbells down. He turned to the small crowd and gave them his trademark grin. 

“Staring’s rude, ya know,” he teased. “A picture would last way longer.”

They squealed, compliments and questions all blending into one as Mirage took some pictures with the fans. For all of the years he’s been competing in the games, he never tired of the fan service. Maybe one of those pics that would definitely pop up on social media spark some new memories for his mom. 

By the time he’d started his stroll down the dropship’s hallway, he’d showered, changed into more comfy clothes, and ate a sandwich he’d picked up on his way back. His eyes were glued to his phone as he liked, reposted, and responded to the comments on his fan page. It was the sound of deep, desperate laughter that made him look up. 

Octane and Seer were there in the corridor. The speedster still had the man pinned down at the waist while he pinched and kneaded over his knees. Obi’s laughter, which was normally composed of calm chuckles, could be heard even at a distance. He was kicking and squirming, making a concerted effort to pull himself free of Octavio’s grasp, but he wouldn’t budge. The weight of his metal legs kept Obi from getting away, and in all honesty, Octavio looked like he was having a blast. 

“Well, well, well. Looks like you two are having fun,” Elliott chuckled. “Guess all of those team-building exercises work after all.”

Octavio was in the midst of honing in on one of Obi’s knees when the trickster spoke up. He visibly brightened and grinned. “Dude, you’ve gotta come try this! Señor Fancypants here is so ticklish.”

Obi was quick to interject. “Abeg, nohohohoho! Help mehehehe, Elliott!”

Elliott stepped closer to the two, humming thoughtfully. “I dunno, looks like you’re in good hands to me. Although, I’d be a pretty bad friend if I didn’t help out, right?”

On the surface, it sounded like Elliott was going to help, but his growing smile told Obi that it wouldn’t be in the way that he meant it. He squirmed with a renewed vigor as the trickster knelt above him. 

“Wahahait! Wait! That is not what I MEHAHAHANT!”

Obi yelled when Ocatvio got a good grip on his leg and, bending it at the knee, scribbled his fingers along the underside of his knee. The artist bucked and laughed even harder. His leg kicked and bucked in the speedster’s hold and he curled in on himself, his cackles echoing throughout the corridor. 

Mirage made a show of stretching and flexing his fingers. Obi felt his presence and hugged his arms around his torso. This made Elliott chuckle. 

“What’re you talkin’ about, buddy? I’m gonna help you,” he smirked. “Oh wait, did you think I wasn’t gonna see this for myself? Damn, sorry. You should’ve been more specific.”

Mirage moved to get Obi’s arms out of the way. It wasn’t easy; Seer was already a nimble individual and his cackling and squirming meant that he wasn’t gonna hold still. Still, Mirage was persistent, and he’d managed to pin one of the man’s arms down to free up one side of his torso.  

“And you know what else?” Elliott continued, giving the man experimental pokes at his sides. Octavio had to ease up on his knees so he could hear what he was saying. “Correct me if I’m wrong, which I’m not, but didn’t you push me off World’s Edge two days ago?”

With Octavio giving him a break on his knees, Obi took the opportunity to catch his breath. The pokes made him jump and chuckle, but it was nowhere near the cackling he was just doing. 

“Wh-Whahat?” Obi breathed. “We were on opposing teams—”

“Right, and there’s totally no hard feelings, buuuut,” he hummed. “That team building thingie Ajay had us do said we should always find ways to bond after the games to uh, ‘keep the good blood flowin’. So!”

Elliott wrestled his other arm down while he was yapping. Now, he could freely poke and prod into the man’s sides, making Obi’s chuckling become more prominent. He grinned. “If this isn’t team building, I dunno what is!”

Octavio snorted. He returned to tickling the underside of Obi’s knee, leading to another shout and frantic laughter. “Heh, works for me.”

The higher Elliott went up on Obi’s sides, the harder he laughed. He twisted from one side to the other, head tilted back as he laughed. 

“YOUHUHU AHAHARE TWISTING HEHEHR WOHOHRDS!”

Obi protested through his loud laughter. His arms strained in Elliott’s surprisingly strong hold as he tried to bring them back down. 

“Psh, that sounds exactly what she’d say. When I care enough to listen,” Octavio laughed. He looked over his shoulder at Elliott and smirked. “Go higher, amigo. His ribs are crazy ticklish.”

“Oh?”

Elliott repeatedly squeezed the spot just below his rib cage. Obi arched upwards with a wheeze. 

“NOHOHOHOHO! BIHIHIHIHIKO!”

“Huh, well would you look at that,” Mirage chuckled. “We’re more alike than I thought. See? It’s working!”

The trickster then raked his nails in quick scritches along his rib cage, laughing as the man bucked and cackled. Octane was getting bored of tickling his knees, so he got off of his legs and scooted up to his side. “Muévete (Move over), Elliott. I’ll hold his arms.”

Elliott made a big show of acting like he was surprised and flattered. “Why, thank you, Octavio! What a kind and generous offer.”

They swapped places faster than Obi could blink, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Octane used the weight of his legs to help keep his arms pinned over his head, and Mirage was able to straddle his waist. The trickster resumed tickling his ribs, using the pads of his thumbs to knead over the individual ribs and the spaces between. The fits of laughter came in waves and, not content with staying on the side lines, Octavio prodded into the man’s exposed armpit.

“Silva, wait.” 

Seer hurried after his teammate in a duos match, falling further and further behind. Octane scoffed and jabbed himself with another stim. 

“No way, Obi! I want in on this action,” He threw the empty stim over his shoulder, stuck himself with another one, and literally left him in the dust. He whipped out his shotgun, grinning as he loomed in on Containment, where multiple teams were fighting. “I won’t take all of the loot…maybe!”

Seer halted, putting both of his hands on his knees. He wasn’t a stranger to a long run, but keeping up with Octane was impossible. He used his Heart Seeker to scan the area ahead. Sure enough, he detected multiple heart beats. He sighed. 

“The show begins,” He unholstered his R301 and threw down his Exhibit to highlight the enemies’ positions. “With luck, we will be the last squad remaining on stage.”

Octane didn’t need any luck. He entered the fray in a green blur, downing enemies left and right. It was either that the enemies didn’t see him until it was too late, or they were too slow to react if they did. By the time Obi got his shots in, Octavio was the kill leader, and death boxes littered the ground like confetti. 

“HAHA! What’d I say?” Octane, still riding the high of adrenaline, whirled around and grinned at his teammate. “Told you I’d kick their asses. Didn’t even need any of your fancy tech.” 

Seer rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You may not have needed it, but I trust that my exhibit made it easier to locate our opponents. Still, your performance was spectacular. They were not prepared for you.”

As if Octane’s ego needed to get any bigger, he cheered. “¡Gracias, amigo! Now, enough talk,” He stepped over one of the death boxes. “Let’s go find another—”

His foot got caught under the box he intended to step over. Instead, he tripped and hit the ground with an ungraceful splat. Any loot that he picked up spilled out of his inventory, and his shotgun ended up skidding away from him. “Maldita caja (damn box), my foot—”

Seer inadvertently snorted. He turned his head, face hidden by his hat, and chuckled. While Octavio worked on prying his foot free, he gave his teammate a bewildered look. 

“Why’re you standing there? Help me move this box,” Octane demanded. The box was heavier than it looked, and the speedster’s foot was really caught. Seer’s shoulders shook with restrained laughter before he got himself together. 

“My apologies,” Seer coughed and wiped one of his eyes. He approached him and leaned over to lift the box up. “Here, allow me.”

Octavio would’ve thanked him if Seer’s eyes weren’t glossy with tears. He narrowed his eyes behind his goggles. “Were you just laughing?”

“I was not laughing at you.” Seer answered, smiling. “I hope you are not injured, truly. I just— the manner in which you fell was comical.”

“No, it wasn’t!” Octane bristled. “My foot got stuck under the stupid box!”

“I noticed.” Seer did his best to suppress another chuckle, but he still wore the remnants of a grin. After he helped Octane move the box off his foot, he helped him stand. “Come, I believe I hear more enemies to our west. But allow me to go ahead of you, so I can pinpoint any tripping hazards.”

Octane rolled his eyes, chuckling. For someone as artsy-fartsy as Obi, he had jokes. “Shut up, let’s just go..” He playfully nudged the artist’s side. Seer fidgeted and went ahead. Octavio wasn’t truly upset;  it was refreshing that his friend had a funny bone. Rest assured, though, he’d get him back for those little jokes.

The jokes persisted even after the games. As the Legends returned to the drop ship, Seer lounged across a sofa in the common room, watching a replay of the match on his tablet. He sometimes looked at his past matches for a source of inspiration for his art.The cameras caught Octane’s fall and he put a hand over his mouth to stifle his chuckling. This caught Octavio’s attention, who normally didn’t like sitting around, but definitely needed a breather. He had an energy drink in hand as he approached the sofa. He peeked over the artist’s shoulders and chided him.

“You’re still laughing at that? It wasn’t funny!” Octane climbed over the couch and elbowed the man’s side again. “Turn it off.”

Seer chuckled some more. “I am only rewatching the match to inspire my drawings. The arena is dangerous territory and I wish to immortalize memorable battles. Your acrobatics were definitely something to remember.” 

Octane narrowed his eyes, feeling a mix of amusement and mild annoyance, before his lips turned into a dangerous grin. “Yeah? You think so?” 

Seer’s chuckles died down, giving way to a questioning look. Then, without warning, Octane put his drink down and lunged towards him, fingers prodding into his exposed side. Obi gasped and almost dropped the tablet. Encouraged, Octane dove in again, giving the same side a squeeze. “Go on, laugh it up, fancy pants.”

The artist stiffened and chased after the speedster’s hand with his own, barely managing to catch it. “Octavio, what—”

Octane’s grin widened. He easily pulled his hand out of the man’s grip and wormed his fingers across his stomach. “Ticklish, amigo?” 

Obi’s breath hitched, and after failed attempts to re-grab Octavio’s hand, he settled for scooting out of his reach, arm around his torso. “No, I am not. And I apologize, I will refrain from teasing you further.” 

“Oh no, we’re way past that,” Octane followed Seer and snickered as he held him back. “Why’d you flinch if you’re not ticklish?”

“It was a reflex,” Seer wrestled with his arms and managed to keep the determined speedster at bay. “Octavio, biko, this isn’t necessary.”

“Like hell it isn’t! You’ve been cracking jokes about me all day. If you’re not ticklish, then this shouldn’t bother you.” The pushing and grappling of arms continued until Octane gained a window of opportunity. With his lightning fast reflexes, he managed to reach around Obi’s arms and use both hands to prod and scribble into his stomach. 

Again, Seer jolted. He wasn’t as ticklish as some of the more sensitive Legends, at least not without a softer touch, but Octane was persistent. He was able to refrain from laughing, save for sharp intakes of air, and battled with the speedster’s hands. 

“You sure are squirming a lot for someone who isn’t ticklish,” Octane smirked. He stayed two steps ahead of the artist by jumping to a different spot on his torso whenever he tried to grab him. “Makes me think you’re lying.”

“I am n-nohot-” Seer chuckled ever so slightly when squeezed just below his ribs. Both men froze, a knowing glint behind Octavio’s goggles, but the moment was short lived. 

Seer rose, intending to create space between himself and Octavio. Octane was quick to follow. He may have had speed on his side, but Obi was incredibly nimble, making it difficult to bring him down. Literally.

“You laughed!” Octavio lunged towards him again, trying to drag him back down to the sofa, but Obi was able to wriggle out of the attempts. “Just admit it and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

Even while avoiding Octane wriggling fingers, Seer moved with grace. He almost danced out of his grasp and held the speedster back by the shoulders. There was an almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. 

“You are mistaken, I assure you. Now, let us discuss this calmly without resorting to such antics.”

“Boring!” Octane cut in and twisted in the man’s hold. With a couple of quick, erratic movements, he was free again. “Nope, you asked for this.”

“Then you leave me no choice—” Seer grunted as the speedster tackled him but, this time, he was ready. Before Octane could pin him, his hands shot up and buried under his arms, his finger claws scritching into the soft center of his underarms. Octavio screeched before dissolving into loud laughter. 

“HEHEY! N-Nohoho you dohon’t!” Despite his words, and despite sitting on Obi’s waist, Octane swiveled his body to and fro, abandoning his own attack to defend himself. Seer smirked. 

“I was hoping to have a conversation, but it seems that this is all you will respond to.” He spoke calmly over his wild cackles and sat up, swiping his fingers in circular motions over the sensitive skin. “That is fine. I am nothing if not adaptable.”

Octane’s laughter only grew louder as Seer’s fingers continued fluttering over his armpits. He doubled over and squeezed over the man’s knees on his way down; not necessarily to tickle, but it earned him a startled yelp. It was distracting enough to get the artist to pause, and Octavio took the opportunity to flip their positions. Octane pinned Seer down on his stomach and went for the same spot: the underarms. 

Octane didn’t know to what extent Seer was ticklish; hell, he didn’t expect him to be ticklish at all! Tickling him was a shot in the dark that he didn’t think would go very far. The artist squeezed his arms against his sides as Octane worked his thumbs into the hollows. He squirmed and tried to crawl forward, but Octavio sitting on his back made it impossible. 

“O-Octahavio-” Seer pursed his lips to keep from laughing, but a few chuckles still escaped him. He didn’t make it easy for Octane; he writhed and bucked when those quick scritches worked down his ribs, then to his sides. “Wait!”

“Nope. I already told you, waiting’s boring.” The speedster chuckled and reached underneath him to resume tickling his stomach. No matter how much he squirmed, he was able to stay on his back and run his short nails up and down his abdomen. Then, unconsciously, he lightly poked back up his sides, and those restrained chuckles became a lot more prominent. 

Octane grinned broadly. “Yeah, totally not ticklish,” Having made the connection, he spidered back up the man’s sides, earning louder chuckles. “Could’ve fooled me, Obi.”

Seer’s shoulders shook as he tried, and failed, to stop chuckling. He squirmed more vigorously as the notion of squirming away became less likely. “I dihihd nohot mehehan- please, wahahait!”

Octane prodded just below the man’s rib cage, relishing in his usual stoic friend’s frantic snickering. “Didn’t mean what?” He repeated, suddenly jumping back to his armpits and scribbling. Seer bucked and laughed deeply. “Didn’t mean to laugh at me, or didn’t mean to call me a klutz?”

“I dihihd nOHOHOt cahahall youhuhu a klutz!” Seer insisted in between bouts of laughter. He desperately squeezed his arms against his sides even more, but it didn’t deter Octane’s tickling. Octane was still able to scrabble around the man’s armpits, alternating between digging into the centers and lightly circling around the area. The latter got a slightly stronger reaction. “Bihihkohoho! I will not tehehease you again, I promise!”

 “Yeah, and I’ll start walking everywhere,” Octane laughed. He moved his hands back to his ribs and pinched along the back of them, eliciting even harder laughter. “You were laughing before, right? So go ahead: laugh!”

 Seer rocked side to side, his laughter taking on a desperate note as the speedster continued to pinch and knead over his ribs. “I’m SOHOHORRY!” He tried to roll onto his back and trap Octavio’s hands, but he made sure he stayed put. “OcthHAHAvio!”

“Damn, had I known you were this ticklish before, maybe I wouldn’t have thought you were so boring.” Octane snickered and let him turn over. He continued to tickle his ribs, worming in between the bones before raking his nails back and forth, which left the artist in stitches. All of his squirming and laughing made his hat come off, and the tickling continued. 

The energy drink that Octavio had earlier had kicked in and, despite having a blast tickling Seer, he needed to stretch his legs. That didn’t mean he had to stop the fun so soon, though. He slowed his tickle attack to a halt, climbing off the man’s waist to stretch his legs. Seer heavily let his head fall back on the ground as he caught his breath.

“You are incorrigible,”  Seer breathed. He sat up and gathered his hat off of the ground, brushing off any dust specks. While he spoke, Octane downed the rest of his energy drink. Then, he smirked. 

“Don’t get too comfortable yet, Obi. We’re not done,” Octane’s smirk widened as he threw the can over his shoulder. “Just wanted to stretch my legs. But I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”

“I- what more do you want besides an apology?”

“Forget that!” Octane scoffed.  “I’m not really mad. You laughed at me, so it’s only fair that I get to make you laugh too. Ten.” 

Seer backed away when the man leaned towards him. He grinned an apprehensive grin. “Surely we can resolve this in another way? Perhaps by sparring in the training grounds?”

“Nope! Nine.”

“Octavio-”

The speedster did a fake-out lunge towards him, laughing when he flinched. “You’re still talking? Eight sevensixfive-”

Seer’s eyes widened and, without another word, he sprinted out of the common room and down the hall. It wasn’t even another three seconds before he heard the metallic whir of Octane’s legs behind him. In his haste to get away, he stumbled over the carpet, and Octane was quick to seize the opportunity. Octavio burst out laughing as he wrestled the man back down. 

“Nohoho! Octahahavio! OCTAHAHAVIO!”

While Octane worked on getting his legs down, he squeezed at Obi’s knees, and the man wheezed. He kept his hands there, laughing harder as Obi squirmed like a fish out of water.

Lee-

Most people assume that Obi isn’t ticklish. Sudden pokes and squeezes don’t get much of a reaction out of him and, if someone’s trying to sneak up on him, chances are he already hears their heartbeat. 

Sometimes, he jokingly claims that those squeezes feel nice, and will pretend to fall asleep to vex his ler. 

But gentle tickles? Those will awaken his ticklish nerves that he often forgets he has. 

Overall, he’s not terribly ticklish, but he does have those spots that turn his deep chuckles into heavy laughter. Those spots are his underarms, ribs, and the back of his knees.  

His chuckles, and even his heavier laughter, are both warm and soothing on the ears. He doesn’t really mind being tickled compared to some of the other Legends, so long as he isn’t pinned down. 

Obi isn’t an easy lee to get down; he is extremely nimble. So, if someone actually manages to pin him, his laughter becomes 10x more frantic and he tries to escape. Not being able to move away from a soft, maddeningly ticklish touch drives him crazy.

Words mean a lot to him, so if his ler is teasing him or pointing out his sensitivity, it can get to him if he’s frantic enough. Most of the time though, he will try to keep his composure while he’s laughing. 

Slow tickles also get to him more than faster ones. If his ler takes their time to squeeze each rib, or work their fingers into his hollows, his laughter deepens even more.

Tickling him while he’s drawing is a fun spectacle to watch; most of the time, he tries to ignore his ler and focus on what he’s doing. But when the tickles become too distracting, he’ll reach behind him with one hand and politely ask them to quit it. “B-Bihiko, I am wohohorking..”

His palms are ticklish too, but it isn’t unbearable. Sometimes he finds light scribbles along them soothing, especially after a long day of creating art. 

Tickling isn’t something Obi totally minds because laughter’s beneficial to the soul. Sometimes, he feels more inspired after a tickle session. But, this is more true for more casual, playful tickling and less so for tickle attacks.

When he isn’t pinned down, his initial chuckles come out as short and breathy. He tries not to accidentally hurt his ler while he squirms.  He will also push away the ler’s hands, sometimes holding them at bay for an extended period of time. 

If his ler asks him to let go of their hands, Seer says something along the lines of, “If I release your hands, you must assure me that you are not going to tickle me again.” He can tell when someone is being truthful or not; the heart beats differently after a lie told.

 So, if he does release his lers’ hands with the expectation that they’re gonna pounce again, he’s quick to keep their wiggling fingers just out of reach. He’ll keep this up until the ler’s too tired to continue.

On rare occasions, his heart chamber glows blue after being tickled. 

Ler

Obi is a gentle and reserved ler. He only really tickles those he’s familiar and/or close to. 

Unless the situation calls for it, or his lee is just really sensitive, he’s fond of tickles that lead to giggling and light squirming, instead of full on cackles and screams. 

He does not pin his lees down. He enjoys watching them squirm and try to cover up their tickle spots. If they cover one spot, he prods at another. It’s amusing for him to watch his lee twist into positions that shouldn’t be anatomically possible. 

Obi, finding the beauty in everything, is definitely the type of ler who compliment his lee’s laughter. He enjoys exploring the range of sounds they make as he skitters his fingers from one spot to the other. 

When he finds an especially ticklish spot, he uses both hands to slowly knead over it. “You make wondrous sounds when tickled here,” he’d note. He’d pause when his lee’s squirming gets more intense, then starts again. “Let us see if we can recreate it…ah, yes, there it is. Such beautiful tonality.”

Obi’s intention is not to fluster his lees; he means everything he says. Even still, he’s had lees who blush at his words.

His tickling style has a similar feeling to having a butterfly land on you; it’s soft and fleeting, but still really ticklish. He uses his fingers and/or his decorative claws to stroke along his lees’ torso, similar to how he uses his paintbrushes, and gives extra ticklish regions more attention. He doesn’t stay there long; after a belly laugh or two, Obi returns to his feather soft stroking.

Speaking of paintbrushes, Obi’s found that his artistic tools can even produce ticklish effects. He’s usually the main one responsible for helping Legends with their face paint and/or body art. He’s partial to paintbrushes and markers, and he finds that each tool alters the laughter’s pitch. 

A swipe of a paintbrush usually causes light squeaks and giggles. His markers, though, bring on laughter, especially when he does shading. 

Now that he’s on friendlier terms with Octane, he sometimes offers to draw a new design on him. 

Obi’s a patient person, but after trying to draw something on him, he now holds onto where he’s drawing if the person he’s drawing on is ticklish and squirmy. He’s nothing if not a perfectionist when it comes to art!

Seer is also the king of anticipatory tickles. He takes his time when he tickles someone, and enjoys hearing their heart rate change as he hovers over a ticklish area. 

He’s also good at painting a verbal picture for his lee; “Now, where shall we begin, my friend? Shall we start at your ribs and work our way down? Or perhaps an approach from the center works best?”