#tickler!reader

“Nonsense!” Caine shook his head, clearly not listening to anything you said. “I have gotten feedback from Pomni that my usual way of introducing our new members to their new home can be a bit…intense. So, allow me to—”

“No!” You shouted. The sheer height was starting to make you dizzy. “Put me down!” You weren’t sure if these cartoon bodies could survive a fall of this height, but you weren’t eager to contribute to the research.

You swung your leg back to get enough momentum to kick Caine in the stomach. You weren’t aiming particularly hard. You didn’t want him to drop you. You just wanted him to realize just how displeased you were with the current circumstances.

“Ack—! Don’t do that!”

“Then, put me down!”

“Absolutely not! We haven’t even started on our wonderful adventure!”

Now, Caine was just being stubborn. Fine, if he wasn’t going to be convinced, then you would have to force him to lower you back to the ground.

You mustered the inner confidence to let go of Caine’s arm and grab at the lapels of his jacket. “I wanna get down!” 

Caine reeled back on instinct. He tried to pry you off of him, but you held on hard. “Get off me!”

“No!”

Your hold began to loosen. For a moment, you lost your footing, and you slipped down an inch. Your heart began to race as you scrambled up to readjust your grip. On instinct, you smushed your face into his shoulder. You didn’t want to see yourself plummet to your death. Your fingers clawed their way around his body just to make sure you didn’t accidentally fall during the kerfuffle. 

You could feel Caine’s muscles(?) stiffen underneath you. His hand, which he had at some point placed on your mid-back, tightened as though he was trying to restrict you physically.

A pause.

“Don’t do that,” Caine said. 

His tone had lost all of its showmanship quality, now replaced with what vaguely sounded like an oddly high-pitched whine at the back of his throat.

Was that jerk laughing at you? Was that it? Did he find you fearing for your life that hilarious?

With newfound vigor, you dug your nails into Caine’s jacket and clung on. Caine made a strangled sound. It wasn’t one of pain (not that you thought you could hurt him) or even of annoyance. It was sharp and small and sort of stilted.

You paused, taking the time to tilt your head back and glare at him.

Wall-eyed, Caine stared at you.

You shifted your fingers deeper into his side.

“GHK—!” Now, that sound was unmistakable. 

Caine jerked mid-air, sending both of you bobbing a few feet to the left. You yelped and latched onto him tighter, but that only seemed to make things worse as he veered to the right.

“St-Stop that!” Caine exclaimed. A hint of desperation clung to the back of his voice, hardly obfuscated by his stutter. 

You frowned. You could use this somehow. Probably. Maybe.

“Not until you put me down,” you said. 

When he didn’t budge, you scribbled your fingers against his side. The movement was awkward, mechanical, at first, because you were still clinging to him for dear life. It didn’t seem to matter much, though. The effect was immediate. His shoulders shot up, and his jaw clacked down as a flurry of laughter tore through him.

“Ahaha—Nohohoho! Stahahap that!” Caine grabbed at your shoulders, but that didn’t really do anything to make you stop. “This is—” He interrupted himself with an odd-sounding snort. “Entihihirely unprofessional!”

“You’re the one who kidnapped me.” Your fingers continued to climb higher until they made their way to his ribs. 

“I did nohoho such thing—!” Caine gasped when you started flexing your fingers experimentally against what felt like bone. “AHAHAHAHA!” The sudden cackle made you flinch. His arms shook, seemingly caught between wanting to hold onto you and wanting to tear your hands off of him. “FINE! FIHIHINE!” His yelps sounded more like croaks at this point. You stopped for a moment to hear him out. “Perhahaps this tour can be conducted at a slightly lower altitude…”

The world lurched. You yelped as the circus grounds rushed closer beneath you, like an elevator dropping too fast. Caine seemed eager to hurl himself to the ground. Perhaps, he was worried that you would start up again.  

“Be careful!” You shouted, but you were already on the ground before you could finish the last syllable.

Caine hovered next to you, brushing the imaginary dirt off your shoulder. 

“There,” he announced with barely contained smugness. It seemed that he had already shaken off what had happened. “See? Perfectly safe. No harm done. Another successful act of benevolent leadership from your ever-reliable ringmaster.” 

You stared at him.

Several words had come out of his mouth that you strongly disagreed with. You should let him have a piece of your mind about how you really felt about his so-called benevolent leadership after messing with your coffee and flinging you in the air. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t particularly the talking type.

So, you tackled him to the ground.

Caine squawked as he landed awkwardly on his stomach. You sat down on his back, positioning your legs to pin him to the ground. “What are you doing?” His words came out clipped and harsh. He seemed to be too taken aback to remember he could teleport away. 

“You seriously call that successful?”

“Well, yes, I suppose I wou—AHAHAHAHA!” 

You pounced on his ribs, once more, since that seemed to be the spot that gave him a bit of trouble while he was busy swinging you around mid-air. Caine writhed underneath you. He clawed at the grass, but the flat texture barely provided any friction for him to grab onto. You could feel his legs kick out from underneath you. Considering how compact Caine’s body was, you ended up bouncing with each kick, but you held on fast and kept tickling him.

“You could have asked before doing any of that!” You lightly raked your fingertips up each crevice of his ribs. You did not leave any one untouched as you carefully counted up each side. You lingered just long enough at each spot to make him jerk and sputter before moving on to the next. “Now, my drink is probably lukewarm.”

Caine lifted his head weakly. He turned to the side in an attempt to make eye contact with you. Perhaps puppy-dog eyes were a potential strategy of his. Either way, you didn’t get to find out because you took the opportunity to wiggle your index finger under his chin.

A sudden spurt of laughter came out between puffed cheeks. “Pfttehehe…!” It was less of a giggle and more of a raspberry. You chuckled. 

Caine shot his head back to the ground and wrapped his arms around the entirety of his upper jaw to keep his mouth shut. 

“Aww, Caine!” You leaned forward. Any semblance of anger seemingly melted away at the mere sight of him trying to hide away. “Are you embarrassed?” 

Caine shook his head into the grass. “Nnnehehe…”

“Is that a no?” You asked. “So, you’re not embarrassed?”

With his arms situated above his head like that, it left his armpits completely exposed. You wondered if Caine realized that. Surely, he wouldn’t be this naive to…

You dug your fingers into his armpits. 

Caine shrieked.

Maybe he was.

“WAHAHAHA!” Caine’s arms slammed down to his sides with frightening speed. Oh, darn, now your hands were trapped. Oh, well.  “Nahahaha—! Nohohot theheHEHEHEERE!” He screamed. “Anywhere buhut—AHAHAHA!! Thehehehere!”

“Ah, so, we have preferences now, do we?”

You drilled your thumbs into the hollows of his armpits. He arched his back. His knees dug into the ground as he tried to give himself the proper leverage to push himself up, but you refused to give him the chance. Not until he apologized. 

“HAHAHAHA!” Caine’s laughter turned silent for a few beats. You could feel him squirming underneath you. His shoulders shook violently, which was the only indication he was still laughing. His cackles, loud and desperate, came back at full force once you started prodding at his sides. “HA! EHEHEHE!” 

You drummed his sides in quick, uneven taps. Every so often, you made sure to squish the muscle extra hard just to hear him squeal. “Are you ready to apologize, Caine?”

“For WHAHAHAHAT?!”

You blinked. Even when being tickled silly, he still had the gall to talk back. Well, if he wanted to be tickled so bad, he could have just said so.

“If you really don’t know, then I guess I’ll tell you,” you said, “Let’s see…you could apologize for interrupting my me-time, for not letting me finish my drink, for dragging me thousands of feet in the air, for refusing to put me down when I asked…” With every new thing you listed, you returned to spidering your fingers inside the hollows of his underarms. You delighted in the way Caine would let out a new squeaky shriek each time. If you were lucky, you would be rewarded with a snort.

Caine thrashed around. He punched the grass with his fists. The tips of his shoes dug into the ground. “AHAHA! STAHAHAP! Pleeehease!” He hiccuped. “I cahahan’t tahahake this anymore!”

Hearing Caine whine so desperately was enough to give you pause, but that only lasted for a second. “Not until you apologize,” you said. “FIHIIHIHI–AHAHA!” Tears welled up in Caine’s eyes and dribbled down his jaw. Ew. It looked like spit. “I’m sohohoho–s-sohohoohoryy! Now just stop! HAHAHA!”

True to your word, you stopped. You moved off his back and sat down in the grass next to him. 

Caine was heaving violently. He tried to stand up on his hands and knees, but his limbs were still shaking too much to support him. He was still hiccuping, the sound quiet and gentle compared to the harsher wheezes.

You probably would have felt bad for taking things too far if he weren’t an AI. Caine wasn’t human. He probably dealt with much worse daily, and it wouldn’t even phase him.

“Thank you…” Caine said. His words were heavy and drawn out as he was still struggling to catch his breath. That was pretty odd for an AI, now that you thought about it. “Now, where were we?” Caine stumbled onto his feet. It took him a little bit to regain his bearings, but he was floating in the air within seconds.

“Uh—”

“That’s right!” He announced, back to his regular showman voice. “We might have had a brief interruption, but now we’re ready to get back to the tour!!!”

“Wait!” You held up your hands. Did he listen to a word you said? “We can continue the tour after I finish my drink! Okay?” That was probably the closest you could get to a compromise with Caine. You could probably negotiate the whole being airborne thing a little later.

“What? No! We’re already behind schedule!” To prove his point, Caine shoved his wrist into your face. But there wasn’t a watch or anything else there.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you wiggled your fingers in his direction. 

Caine tensed up and backed away a few inches, which made you giggle. “Alright! Fine! Tour after the coffee break!” His next sentence came out so quickly that the words slurred together into just one word. “Here,I’lltakeyouthere!”

You laughed. “Yeah, but this is more romantic, isn’t it?” You held out your arms to your sides. “The snow. The lights. It’s so pretty out here. I couldn’t help it.”

Zayne puckered his lips. If you didn’t know better, you would have said it almost looked like he was pouting. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He readjusted your hat, making sure it covered your ears. “I can’t believe the Hunters Association is forcing you to work during the holidays.”

“I could say the same thing for you,” you said, pulling at his scarf. Not expecting you to do that, Zayne took an awkward step forward. You evened out the ends before forming a loop and tying it up, so it held closer against his neck. You smiled at his surprised expression and pinched his cheek.

“I chose to work this week,” he said quietly.

“Me too.”

Zayne shot you a quiet smile. You both were workaholics, practically married to your respective jobs. Despite the surface-level differences, you and Zayne were very much alike–at least in that regard.

“Come,” he said, jerking his head to the side. “I’ll drive you home.”

You took his hand as he led you to his car. Zayne always parked in the same spot, so you didn’t need him to lead you, but you just wanted an excuse to hold his hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves, but his hands were still surprisingly warm. How did he manage that?

“Home?” you repeated with a snort. “Do you mean yours or mine?”

Zayne hummed as he opened the passenger side of the door. You sat inside, shivering when your body came in contact with the leather seats. “Your choice,” he said. He closed the door and entered the driver’s side, swiftly starting the car.

You tapped your index finger against your lip. “Mine,” you answered after a while. “I want you to stay the night.”

“Sounds good,” Zayne said as he drove out of the parking lot.

A few minutes into the drive, you rested your chin against your palm. The colorful lights seemed to blur into one as you passed by. You were tempted to press your cheek against the window, but you knew it would be freezing, so you held yourself back.

“How was work?” you asked, simply wanting to fill the air with something. It didn’t matter what you and Zayne talked about. You just liked being with him.

Zayne took a moment to respond, as though he was recalling what happened today. “It was fine,” he finally said.

You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “That’s it?”

Zayne shrugged. “Not every day can be as interesting as yours.” The hint of a laugh tinged the end of his sentence. “How was work for you?”

“Oh, you know, nothing much,” you said while straightening your posture. “I just saved a mother and daughter from a Wanderer attack.” You flexed your muscles. “No biggie.”

“My hero,” Zayne said. For a second, you thought he was being sarcastic, but his tone sounded strangely sincere.

Unsure what to do with this change in atmosphere, you stared at your lap. “I like waiting for you when you’re done with work,” you said quietly, changing the subject. You knew it was a sudden shift, but you didn’t know what else to say. “It’s the favorite part of my day.”

“Mine too,” Zayne answered.

“Really?” you asked with a slight chuckle.

Zayne spared you a singular glance. Your heart skipped a beat. “Yes, really,” he said. You smiled warmly. You were about to say something else when Zayne interrupted. “We’re here.”

You perked up. “We are?” You looked around and, indeed, you and Zayne were in the parking lot of your apartment complex. “Wow, that was fast.”

Zayne laughed in response. “How time flies.” He stepped out of the car.

Before he could open the passenger door for you, you stepped out and slammed the door shut. Zayne didn’t respond but you did catch him frowning slightly. You stopped his chance to be a gentleman. Hopefully, he didn’t mind too much. You skipped over to him and grabbed his arm as you walked over to your apartment.

There wasn’t any snow or ice on the pavement. The road crew must have come earlier to salt the streets and parking lots. That was good. You wouldn’t have to worry about Zayne slipping and falling. You knew his fancy dress shoes weren’t built for this weather unlike your sturdy boots.

The heat hit you at full blast the second you entered the lobby. It felt comforting–like someone wrapping a large, fluffy blanket around your body.

“I have some spare pajamas in the guest room,” you explained, making your way over to the elevator. “You can take those.” The doors opened with a ding and you stepped inside.

Zayne smiled as he pressed the button to your floor. “They’re my size?”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s always good to be prepared.” You shook your shoulders. “I learned that from a certain doctor.” When the elevator opened, you stepped out and walked over to your room.

The moment you unlocked it and stepped inside, Zayne leaned over and hugged you. You nestled your nose into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. He smelled like peppermint, and his skin felt smooth to the touch. You kissed his jaw, and Zayne pressed his lips against your cheek. While you wouldn’t call Zayne shy per se, he was definitely the type to be reserved when it came to public displays of affection. It was cute.

“I missed you,” he muttered against your skin.

You giggled and tried to pull away. He pulled you back into his embrace for a few more seconds until he finally let you go. His hands lingered on your upper arms as his thumbs softly caressed you.

“Me too,” you said. With a split second of hesitation, Zayne pulled back to start unbuttoning his jacket. You tugged his sleeve. “Wait, let me get that for you.” He stilled, and you helped him peel off his jacket. You hung it on the coat rack next to the front door with a short flourish.

Taking a quick peek in his pockets, you noticed he had one of those hand-warming packets in there. That sneaky doctor. No wonder his hands were so warm earlier. You wondered if he did that on purpose, knowing you would try to hold his hand. Zayne’s thoughtfulness always made your lips curve into a small, appreciative grin. He tried to be subtle with these things, but you knew how much he truly cared for you.

“Thank you,” Zayne said as he untied his scarf and placed it next to his jacket on the rack.

“Go get changed,” you said. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

Zayne nodded and went to the guest room. You stepped into your bedroom to change into your nightwear before heading to the kitchen and opening the last cabinet on the right. Way in the back was the matching snowman mugs you got for the both of you last year. They were meant to be used for special occasions, and sharing a warm drink in your abode counted, at least, in your opinion.

A part of you wanted to make hot chocolate from scratch, but after the long day of work you had, the mere thought of it made you want to pass out. You had to settle for the instant packet stuff instead.

It didn’t take long for you to prepare the mugs of hot chocolate considering how all you had to do was microwave some milk and stir in the powder. Zayne came up from behind you while you were in the middle of stirring. He had changed fairly quickly. The light blue pajama set suited him. He placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them.

“You should add a pinch of sugar in mine,” Zayne said. He pressed the side of his head against your ear. You could hear him swallow at the end of his sentence.

“Sugar?” you repeated. “This is the powder stuff. It’s already sweet,” you clarified, thinking that Zayne would see the error in his ways.

Zayne glanced at the open box of instant hot chocolate on the counter. “I know,” he said. “It’s just a pinch.”

You should have known. Zayne’s proclivity for sweets had no bounds. Just as he asked, you added a spoonful of sugar to his mug (and then another when he gave you puppy dog eyes). He would have denied it if asked directly, but you knew what he was like.

With your mugs of hot chocolate, you and Zayne sat in the living room. “Do you have any preferences?” you asked as you picked up the remote. You turned on the television and scrolled through the wide array of movies.

“Not particularly,” he said, sipping on his drink.

“Alright.”

You played a random holiday movie that was featured on the front page of the streaming platform. From its summary, it seemed like a decent watch: a meet-cute romance between a hunter and a businessman. Apparently, the hunter teaches the businessman about the magic of the holidays. You settled next to Zayne once the music began to play. He lazily laid his arm around your back.

The beginning of the movie was cute, but your mind began to wander halfway through. As the movie droned on, your eyelids started to droop down. All your hours spent awake working and saving the day were beginning to catch up to you. You were almost finished with your drink by now.

Placing your mug on the coffee table, you leaned into Zayne’s side. He hummed and set down his mug next to yours before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and lying down, dragging you down with him.

“What?” you asked as you awkwardly fell over him. You shuffled around until you were lying down on his side, pressed against him and the back pillow of the couch.

Zayne kissed the top of your head. “You’re feeling tired, are you not?” The gentle drum of his heartbeat almost lulled you directly to sleep. He lowered his voice, so it was barely above a whisper. “You can sleep. Don’t worry.”

You turned your head to the side, nuzzling your nose against his chest. “Okay,” you said with a yawn. “Tell me how the movie ends.”

You hugged his side, your arm worming underneath the small of his back. You sighed as the movie became nothing more than background noise. The rise and fall of Zayne’s chest kept you steady. Every so often, his breath tickled your cheeks. You smiled, your fingers flexing against his back.

Zayne stiffened, and you raised your head slightly. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Zayne said, petting the top of your head. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered into your ear.

“Are you sure?” you asked. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You tried to pull your arm from underneath him, but it was stuck–pinned against the couch by his weight.

Zayne squirmed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s just…” Zayne stopped when he saw your expression. You weren’t going to let this go, and he knew it. Zayne bit his lip, his ears suddenly flushing red. “It just tickles. A bit.”

You propped yourself up on your other arm. “Does it?” Experimentally, you curled your fingers, watching in awe as Zayne arched his back. That allowed you to pry your arm from under him. He gave you a pleading expression–like he was begging you to drop your discovery, but how could you?

“Please–” Zayne said, cutting himself off when you clasped his side and squeezed it. “I’m not th–that ticklish…” He bit his bottom lip as you dragged your nails over his stomach. His abs tensed under your feather-light touch. “…so you caha–!!”

Zayne gasped as you suddenly launched your attack across his stomach just above his belly button. He scrunched up his nose, refusing to laugh. He was always so stubborn. You moved over, so you were now sitting on his lap.

“I think you’re more than ‘a bit’ ticklish,” you said.

His lips were caught in an awkward half-smile that he was desperately trying to keep at bay. Zayne grabbed your wrists, temporarily stopping your pursuits. “Don’t you want to finish the movie?” he asked with the tiniest bit of desperation at the edge of his voice. His fingertips quivered against your skin. Even though you weren’t tickling him anymore, he was still trembling.

“This is much more interesting than some movie.” You pulled your hands out of his grip and latched onto his hips. Zayne bucked up on instinct, and you laughed as he almost bounced you into the air. “Wouldn’t you agree?” You massaged the skin, taking care to dig deeper at the spots that made him jerk especially hard.

His eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to stop himself from succumbing to your touch, but you were far, far too powerful. “I–ehehehmhm…” Zayne giggled breathily. It was satisfying to see him break albeit a little. He seemed to be at a loss for words, his cheeks dusting a light pink. His smile, now much wider, wobbled slightly.

Zayne was still trying to half-heartedly stop your devious hands, but it felt more like a kitten pawing at your arms than anything else. You wondered if that was his way of allowing you to keep going. Surely if he genuinely wanted you to stop, he would have put his foot down by now. Alas, Zayne was putty in your hands. You were one of his few weaknesses.

Your fingers slowly wandered up his torso as they made their way to his ribs. Zayne jumped, clamping his arms to his sides. This seemed to be a much more sensitive area, which you took to your full advantage. “Is this a bad spot, Dr. Zayne?” you asked in a light-hearted tone. “Are you too ticklish for your own good?” You clawed at the soft skin in between the grooves of his ribs.

If you were particularly evil, you might have even tried to tickle him underneath his shirt, but you were feeling a little merciful today.

Zayne squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly no longer able to look at you. “Behehe quiehehet!” he suddenly cackled. “Dohohon’t tickle me there! Eheheh!” He grabbed at your upper arms but didn’t try too much to stop you. Even though you were nowhere near his hips, they still jerked and flinched with every new spot you explored.

“So I can tickle you somewhere else, then?” you teased.

“Nohoho!” he gasped out. Zayne turned his head from side to side as he attempted to wiggle out from underneath you. It was no use, however. You were simply too determined. “Stahahap!”

His laughter was deep and almost husky, peppered with the occasional gasp or winded yelp. It was beautiful. Zayne twitched and jumped with each poke and prod. He was so sensitive. It enamored you. You wished Zayne would laugh like this more often. The sound needed to be captured in a bottle and tossed out to the sea for everyone to have a chance to hear.

“You’re so beautiful, Zayne,” you said softly.

You wondered what Zayne would have said if you weren’t tickling the life out of him. He tossed his head back and cackled when you started digging your fingers deep into the soft fleshy parts of his sides. “Ahahahaha! I–I cahahan’t–!” He squealed, squirming from side to side. “I cahan’t tahahahahake it anymore!” Zayne tried to curl up into a ball, but he couldn’t do that with you sitting on his legs.

“Do that again!” you said, trying to elicit that same squeaky squeal. You dragged your nails up and down his sides, but you weren’t as lucky this time. Oh well.

“This ihihihis too muhuhuch!” Zayne managed to giggle out. He kicked his legs out from underneath you, but you held yourself steady. “Hhh…ehehey!” His shirt rode up a bit, revealing a sliver of rosy pale skin. A slight sheen of sweat glistened against his toned stomach, and you realized that you were, indeed, evil. Very evil.

You targeted his exposed skin. Your fingertips immediately latched onto his bare stomach, tickling him there. His muscles flexed instinctively underneath your touch. You dug your thumbs into his soft warm skin, and he jumped. The way his stomach shuddered with each gasp of breath in between wild laughter made you want him more. You could simply devour him.

Not wanting to go too far, you slowed down. Now, you were lightly dragging your fingers up and down the sides of his stomach. “I like hearing your laughter,” you said quietly, “It’s lovely.” You were barely speaking above a murmur, so you weren’t sure if he could hear you much less understand your words.

“Hehehmmhmm…” Tiny droplets of tears clung to Zayne’s eyelashes, sparkling under the soft overhead light. It took him a moment to realize what you just said, but when he did, Zayne flushed a nice shade of red. His cheeks twitched as residual snickers spilled past his lips. “Thank you,” he mumbled awkwardly. You didn’t blame him. It was an odd compliment considering the circumstances. It was nice seeing him all embarrassed. Zayne shifted slightly, staring off to the side. “I uhahahAHAHA!”

Unfortunately, that little moment of peace had to come to an end because you were once again overcome with the same ruthless mood that started this mess. You began tickling his armpits. He flinched–hard. It didn’t take long for you to find a spot at the very center of his underarms that made him cackle. Your thumbs drilled directly into his armpits, and you snickered at the way he jolted.

“Whoa,” you said in between your own giggles.

“WAHAHAIT!” he practically screamed. “Not thehehehere! Nohot thehereee…!” Zayne managed to flip himself over on his side even though you had been sitting on his legs. Huh. You sat on your knees, hovering over his lower body. He crossed his arms to his chest, effectively blocking you from tickling him. “Ehehehe,” he giggled.

“Come on, please, Zayne?” you asked. “Just five more minutes?” You tried to lift his arm, but he wouldn’t budge.

“No,” Zayne said, slightly out of breath.

You puckered your lips. “What? You can’t handle a little bit of tickling?” You poked down the length of his arm with each word. “Are you too ticklish?”

He shivered. “I’m not–” Zayne began to protest before he thought better of it. He puffed out his cheeks and corrected himself. “I’m not that ticklish.”

You pressed your index finger into his cheek. “I beg to differ.”

“Be quiet.”

You chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute,” Zayne repeated under his breath. “That isn’t a word most people would use to describe me.”

“Well, most people don’t know you the way I do.”

Brushing his bangs out of the way, you leaned down and kissed his temple. His forehead was a bit damp. Probably from sweat. Oops.

Zayne closed his eyes and nodded. Then, to your surprise, he lifted his arm. “Five more minutes,” he said quietly. He glanced at you for a brief second before diverting his attention elsewhere. His ears were redder than you had ever seen them.

You blinked. You blinked again. You were tempted to scoop Zayne in a hug and kiss him repeatedly, but you couldn’t waste this opportunity. Your heart pounded in your chest. Who knew when you would get this chance again?

You reached over and–

Zayne flinched, bringing his arm down before you got close to his underarm. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered under his breath. He repositioned himself, so he was lying down on his back, again.

“I’m surprised most people don’t call you cute,” you said, pinning his arm above his head. “They’re really missing out on this side of you.”

You lightly dragged the tips of your nails around his underarm, and Zayne’s body went rigid. He bit the inside of his cheek to probably stop himself from breaking into laughter right away, but the way he puckered his lips and scrunched up his face told you everything you needed to know.

Zayne let out an odd, strangled hum, and you knew he was done for. “Aha–ahAHAhaha!” He hiccuped before his laughter softened into sweet giggles.

“Aw, you’re so–”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence because of Zayne’s abrupt cackle when you started clawing at his armpit. “Eeehehahh…HAHA!”

“That was a weird noise,” you said. You prodded at his sensitive skin, wiggling and swirling your thumbs against it as much as you could.

“Shhhehehahaha…shut uhuhuhp!” His free arm lightly batted away at you, but you didn’t let that deter you.

You puckered your lips into a fake pout. “Seriously, Zayne? How rude.” You dug your fingers into his armpit.

You loosened your grip on Zayne’s arm, and it immediately came crashing down, pressing it up against himself. You took this as an opportunity to tickle his other underarm, as well. You quickly spidered your fingers, targeting any spot you could manage.

“AHAHA! Wahahait! Wahait!” The corners of Zayne’s eyes crinkled as he tossed his head to the side, filling the room with the melodious sound of his laughter. “St-stahaHAHAP! I cahahan’t take it! I’m seriOUS! Hahaha!”

Zayne grabbed your hands, prying you off of him. Deciding to be nice, you stopped. You stole a quick kiss from his lips, which was still quirked up in a wide, sappy grin. He sighed as his chest heaved up and down. His chest trembled while he tried to catch his breath.

“You good?” you asked.

Zayne nodded breathlessly. His fingers twitched at his sides. For a moment, you thought he was going to exact his revenge before he grabbed your shoulders. He pulled you down, and you clumsily fell on him with a soft gasp. He liked doing this to you, didn’t he?

“Don’t tease me anymore,” he said into your ear. His voice was slightly weak with just a hint of a pant. He pulled you into a hug, embracing you with two strong arms. “I don’t think I will be able to handle it tonight.” His warm breath brushed against the shell of your ear. You shivered.

You smiled against his collarbone. “I’ll try not to,” you said, cuddling him. “No promises, though.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Hmm…love you, Zayne,” you whispered into his shirt.

“I love you, too.” He kissed your forehead.

You closed your eyes with a small, content sigh. Zayne’s warmth and peppermint fragrance soothed you. His steady breathing slowed down into long, deep exhales. His chest rose and fell against you, bringing your head up and down with him. You hummed. The witty reply in the back of your mind soon dissipated into nothing but flurries and fairy lights.

You laughed victoriously and slipped inside the photo booth with Zayne trailing behind you. You placed your penguin plushie on one side of the bench so that Zayne could sit on your other side. When he settled next to you, he reached over and dragged the curtain closed to give you two some privacy. Before you could get your wallet out, Zayne had already fed the money into the machine. He paid for a standard four-photo set.

You pretended to pout. “I was going to pay.”

“Too bad. I already did,” he said.

“So cold.” You shook your head playfully and turned to face the camera in front of you. The screen below it lit up, and you could see you and Zayne staring back at yourselves. Unfortunately, your plushie was a bit too short to be properly seen, so you picked it up and pressed it against your chest. A countdown was displayed on the screen, and you pulled out your patented peace sign—the perfect photo booth pose. Although your smile was dazzling and took up half of your face, Zayne’s expression looked like he had just seen a car crash. His eyebrows were furrowed, with his lips stuck perpetually in a straight line. 

The camera flashed. It had taken your first photo. 

You wrinkled your nose. “Zayne? Why aren’t you smiling?”

He tilted his head to the side, seemingly genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean? I am smiling.” Zayne pointed to his lips, which had not budged a centimeter. 

“No, you’re not,” you said. “You look so serious.” You placed your penguin plush to the side. “We’re not in the hospital right now, Dr. Zayne. You can afford to relax.” You waggled your shoulders playfully, which only seemed to confuse Zayne even more. 

“Not everyone can have your bubbly demeanor,” he teased, brushing a lock of hair across your forehead. 

“Maybe not,” you reluctantly agreed, “but everyone can smile.” You leaned closer to Zayne and pinched his torso.

He jolted, his back straightening up. “What are you doing?” he asked. His words came out slightly rushed, and if you listened closely, you could hear the smallest wobble at the end of his sentence.

You squeezed the area just above his hip, and Zayne lurched away from your touch. “What does it look like? I’m just trying to help.”

Your fingers danced up his sides, causing Zayne to push himself against the back of the wall. “Stahap that–!” he giggled. His cheeks turned red at the sound of his own laughter. 

Another flash! Second photo down.

You spidered your fingertips up and down his ribs, which made Zayne choke on his spit. “But you have such a pretty smile,” you said.

It was true. Sunlight seemed to beam directly on Zayne’s face as his laughter danced in the air. It was alluring—almost impossible to look away from. His lips curled up shakily as though his body wasn’t used to doing something that seemed second nature to you. 

“Waihihit, plehease!” He curled in on himself, but that didn’t stop you from pivoting to tickle his thighs. “Ahahah!” Zayne kicked out in surprise, but you dodged him. You had years of hunter training to thank for that. “Someone wihihill hear us!” He bit his lips to try to muffle the sounds of his own giggling, but it wasn’t particularly effective. 

“I think that’s…” You stopped when you felt something awkwardly grasping at your stomach. Zayne had managed to fight back from your so-called tickle torture. His fingers flexed against your shirt once and then twice when you didn’t react. Zayne’s face scrunched up slightly—the same way it did when he was dealing with a difficult case. “Ah, sorry, Zayne, but I’m not very ticklish myself.”

A third flash. One more to go.

He perked up in surprise, but kept trying to tickle you, and you had to admire how persistent he was being. Although Zayne didn’t look like it at first glance, he could be quite stubborn. While that personality trait was effective when researching potential treatments for his patients, he was only locked in a losing battle right now.

Zayne tried clawing at your sides and then your hips, but all you did was shrug. “But you used to be.” He was referring to the tickle fights you would have as children. They were admittedly few and far between (Zayne seemed reluctant to touch you as children), but you vaguely recalled that the two of you seemed to be on a somewhat equal playing field whenever you did fight.

“I suppose I grew out of it.” Your eyes twinkled mischievously. “And you didn’t.”

Zayne frowned. It almost looked like he was pouting. You weren’t sure if that or his smile was cuter. “I don’t understand.” He half-heartedly drilled his thumbs into your underarms. “You are the most vivacious, lively person I know. You find humor in everything, and I can rarely find you without a smile or a joke up your sleeve.” He squeezed your sides in defeat. “How are you not ticklish?”

You laughed, but only at how surprisingly childish Zayne was being. You didn’t expect him to be so hung up on what was practically nothing. You took this opportunity to sneak in another attack. Your fingertips glided up his lower back, and Zayne gasped. He tried to push you away, but you latched onto his armpits. He managed to fight off his laughter for just a few seconds before breaking into a light, airy sort of giggle. His voice was deep but surprisingly carefree, or as carefree as he could have been with you being a little shit. 

“Honestly, I’m more surprised about you, Dr. Zayne.” You prodded at his armpits, which seemed to drive Zayne up the wall. He trembled and twitched in a desperate attempt to get away from you.

“Yoohoohou…!” he whined. 

“I mean,” you continued, ignoring him, “you are always so quiet and reserved. Who would have known that you would still be so ticklish all these years later?”

Zayne flushed from his ears all the way to his neck from your teasing. Dang, you barely even said anything. He jumped this way and that. “Noooo!” he hiccuped. “Stohop tihihihckling me!”

Yet another flash. 

Oh! “That was the last photo!” you called out.

You leaped up from the bench and tossed open the curtain just in time to see the photo booth print out your four snapshots on two strips of paper. You swiped the pictures and turned around to see that Zayne had collapsed on the bench. 

His cheeks were still a bright shade of reddish pink, and his sweater was disheveled and wrinkled in ways you didn’t think were possible. His collared shirt underneath didn’t fare any better as one side of his collar had popped out of the neckline, and the other one was seemingly lost in the expanse of his sweater. He placed his hands over his chest, and you could see how quickly it was rising and falling with each labored breath.

What was even worse was that your penguin plush had somehow ended up on the floor during the kerfuffle. 

You might have gone just a bit too far this time. 

“Oops, sorry,” you said, scratching the back of your head. “Are you okay, Zayne?”

He nodded and sat up. “I’m fine.” He straightened out his sweater. “You are quite…” he paused for a moment. “...tenacious, aren’t you?” He cleared his throat. 

You smiled awkwardly.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s one of the many things I like about you.”

Zayne stood up and held out his hand expectantly. 

You hadn’t even looked at your photos yet. You glanced down and saw that, while the first photo looked pretty normal (albeit with a straight-faced Zayne), the second and fourth ones featured Zayne’s features all contorted into hysterical laughter, complete with red cheeks and tiny pricks of tears in his eyes. 

The third picture was your favorite as it captured a rare disappointed Zayne—furrowed eyebrows and all. Honestly, that was even rarer than a grinning Zayne. Perhaps Zayne didn’t need to smile to capture a great photo, after all. 

You giggled before tearing paper in half to give Zayne one of the strips. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, and he let out a soft chuckle as he took in each individual photo. “These are perfect. I will have to take your advice more often.”

“Really?” you said, your face lighting up. You grabbed your penguin plushie before heading out of the photo booth. Zayne grabbed your hand, and you two continued your walk around the mall. “Does that mean I can tickle you whenever I want?”

Zayne shook his head. His eyebrows did that adorable furrowing thing that you had grown to like. “I wouldn’t take it that far, but…” he hesitated when he saw you wilt. “...ah…maybe. Some other time, though.”

Granted, the spell seemed so embarrassingly simple at first blush. All it was supposed to do was grow flowers in the hair of the target (a surprisingly pretty enchantment considering where you were currently residing), and Satan had oh so graciously volunteered to be your little test subject.

You should have been grateful, but all you felt in that moment was that familiar sensation of irritation crawling up your chest like a withering insect.

Scowling, you grabbed the spell book, which was thick with dusty, cracked leather, and brought it up to your nose, so Satan couldn’t see. “Almost,” you mumbled.

“Take your time.” Satan waved his hand like it was no big deal.

And it wasn’t. You knew that, and he knew that. One quiz wouldn’t ruin your entire grade, but a part of you wanted to feel mad for no good reason, and Satan was the prime target.

When he wasn’t looking, you flipped over to a section of the book you were extremely familiar with. You smiled. “Okay, I’m ready.”

You took a deep breath and muttered out the incantation quietly enough so that your victim wouldn’t hear you.

For a brief moment, you thought you had managed to mess up your go-to spell, but Satan suddenly hunched over in his chair. He hugged himself as his face suddenly grew into a rather lovely hue of red.

“W-what’s goihing—“ Satan stuttered out before hiccuping once and falling into a heap of laughter. He hid his face in his hands (perhaps to hide his embarrassment) and cackled. “Whahahat dihihihihid you do?”

“I dunno,” you said, trying to play dumb. “I did the spell like it told me to do.” You glared at the book as though it was to blame.

Satan shook his head. “You liahahahar!” He wheezed and clutched his stomach. When he couldn’t find any relief from the sensations, he turned to slamming his fist on the table. Your assortment of color-coded pens went flying with each bang. “Whehehen does thihis curse eeheheHEHAHA—“

He pushed his chair back and crumbled to the floor as his laughter suddenly got more intense. You hadn’t realized Satan was so sensitive. This was good information to use for later. Perhaps for some blackmail if the situation ever called for it.

Even though Satan had called out your (admittedly thinly-veiled) bluff, you still hid your own growing smile behind your hand. You enjoyed how squeaky Satan’s laughter was. It was a shame you didn’t hear it too often. You had grown rather accustomed to his evil, maniacal laughter that would pop out whenever he would think of a new prank to get Lucifer. This was a nice change.

“Oh, it only lasts for a couple of minutes or so,” you answered.

“Thahahat lohong?! I cahahahan’t take ihihihit!” He kicked his legs out, and rolled from side to side. It seemed like he was struggling to stay still.

“Dang, are you that ticklish?”

You could tell Satan was trying to glower at you, but his usually terrifying rage face was dampened by his bright smile and flushed cheeks. He looked more like a giggling school boy rather than the powerful demon you knew. You wanted to pinch his cheeks, but that would put your fingers in prime chomping range.

Satan hiccuped, again. He gasped for air. “Shut uhuhup!” His laughter was slowing down. The spell must have been wearing off. What a shame.

When he finally stopped laughing, you reached out to help him get up. “Are you good?” you asked.

“No,” he spat out before grabbing your hand. Satan hoisted himself back into his chair and crossed his arms. “Why did you do that?” He asked, his face still noticeably pink. Satan had always blushed so easily—much to his detriment. “My cheeks hurt.” He massaged his face.

You shrugged and picked your pens back up. “I think I needed a break. That flower-hair spell is too hard. I can’t learn it in time for tomorrow’s quiz.”

Satan nodded. “You’re right. You do need a break.”

“I do?” You stopped in the middle of organizing your things and blinked owlishly. “Really?”

“Yes, and I’ll help you with that!”