#tk drabble

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“If I remember right…–”

“–eehehehaa–n-no, you’re n-nnaahahaat!–”

“–it’s the back of the ribs… riiiight between the bottom two–”

“–e-eeeheheeep! N-nonononono, S-Seheheiiishi…!”

“–all I need to do is curl my fingers into a hook aaaand…,” Seishi hummed in amusement, pausing to watch Aki spasm in wretched anticipation when his fingertips pressed against his dreaded kill spot. Aki, face hidden behind his hands and his voice muffled behind his gloves, sputtered out in flustered fury when Seishi seemed to draw out the suspense.

“F-Fuhuck off…!” the brunette whined into the worn leather.

“Huh? What’d I do?” Seishi balked playfully, his fingers never easing the pressure, even as Aki began to twitch. He gave a quick jolt, one brief toggle into the sensitive skin, relishing in the way Aki squeaked in frantic mirth, hands smothering further onto his face, as if it could hide his blush. Seishi grinned: poor thing didn’t realize his ears burned just as bright as his face would have–either that, or he was too far gone to care.

Still, the blonde pressed forward with his taunting, “I’m not actually doing anything, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“N-No, you’re not–g-ghh, that’s not…!”

“Is this not what you wanted?” Seishi probed further, peppering his tone with faux confusion as he wrangled Aki back into his lap despite the brunette’s sputtering protests. “Oh, I see, you wanted me to do this–”

Aki’s hands shot down from where they shielded his face in a desperate attempt to catch Seishi’s wrists, but it was too late–with a precision that spoke of extensive experience, Seishi dug into the sweet spot just between his bottommost ribs, practically vibrating his clawed fingers into the space. 

Aki unravelled quickly, just as Seishi remembered.

“N-NononOHOAHAHAHAAa! S-Sehei–eEK! N-NOT, N-NOHO, P-PLEHEHEAAAah! I-Ihi caha–gahahaaa!”

“Hmmm?” Seishi taunted, keeping the wiggling brunette pinned in his lap no matter how much he writhed. “Couldn’t quite catch that, come again?”

Aki shrieked and cackled in laughter, the sound bright and bubbly and so unrestrained. His legs kicked and flailed on the other side, heels digging into the ground for purchase, but Seishi seemed undeterred as he dug in and tickled away at the back of his ribs.

“N-Nnnhhahahahahaa! S-SohohOHOKO JAHANA–AAAHAHHAHAAAIII! N-Nohohot–g-ghHAHA!--MERCY, MERCYMERCEHEHEHEEe…!” the brunette wailed in hysterics.

“Whoops, not sure what language you wanna beg in, huh?” Seishi teased, drilling his fingers in faster and watching Aki’s back arch off his lap before slamming back down. Squirmy little thing. He clicks his tongue, then grins mischievously as if a thought just occurred. “Oh wait, you know French too, right? Can I hear you beg in French? Please?”

As if he didn’t tease him for the exact same thing every time.

“J-Jihi o! JihiHIHIHI O, O-OHOHOONEGAHaha–g-ghhahahaehehehaa!” Aki’s jumbled laughter broke off with a squeal when Seishi brought his thumb into the mix, toggling the very tip of the rib bone just for good measure. “P-PLEHEHEHEASE–N-NOHOHOHOHOMYGAHAHAAAAA…! A-AAAHAHAHANAHATA N-NO KAHAHACHIII!”

“Duh, of course I won,” he couldn’t help but chuckle, picking up a few of Aki’s words as he flipped back and forth in his frazzled state. Still, cute as he was when tickled to tears, Seishi knew better than to bully him too long in his kill spot–finally, the demon moved away from Aki’s ribs to let the brunette catch his breath. He didn’t go far, instead flicking and fluttering his fingers into the dips of Aki’s waist from both sides–which while it still tickled like mad, it allowed him to gather his wits enough to speak coherently.

“N-Nohoho fahaaair… h-heheheeeaha…!”

“You lost the bet, so you’re paying the wager,” Seishi reminded him after a few more minutes of skittering tickles at his waist, the gambler’s hands soon slowing down to a gentle tapping pattern on either side to wind him down.

“Y-Yohohohouhu… g-ghhhehehe! Y-You cheeheheated, b-bahahastard, hihihiiid the cahahards, m-mmhhehehee…,” Aki babbled through wheezing giggles, collecting himself enough to bring his hand to his face, wiping his tears of mirth away with the back of his wrist. Seishi grinned toothily in return, finally deeming it time to stop as he ruffled Aki’s messy hair, letting him gulp down air in relative peace.

“No shit. If you really had a problem with it, you would have called me out when I started slipping cards five rounds before, not waiting to complain until after you lost. Don’t act like you didn't clock it the moment I did,” Seishi teased knowingly.

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“--and as the room around them fell hushed, a pleasant calm, those magic flecks of light flickered brighter–their glow a warm, joyful hue of–...h-hey! Hotaruuu, quit moving, I’m gonna mess up the words…!”

Hotaru pressed her left palm tighter over her mouth, cracking one eye open to look at her roommate. Mags stared at her amusedly, fingers loosely wrapped around Hotaru’s right hand, her ballpoint pen poised just a smidge above the soft flesh of the brunette’s inner wrist.

The words that scrawled in pretty cursive across her arm were smooth and loopy, evenly spaced, but the closer they got to her hands, the shakier the penmanship got–and Hotaru knew it was because she kept twitching and tensing every time Mags dragged the dull point of the pen across a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

“Ah… s-sorry, Mags,” Hotaru muttered, clearing her throat and trying to regain her usual composure. She hoped she didn’t look as flustered as she felt, slowly lowering her hand and placing it flat on the table. Mags huffed out a little laugh, pulling the pen away and starting to twirl it in her fingers.

“You don’t need to be sorry for that,” she chuckled. 

Hotaru lifted a brow, confusion evident in her expression. “I’m pretty sure I should be sorry for making your work more difficult than it needs to be, right? So, I’m apologizing for causing complications to your… process, I suppose. I know that the words have to be legible in order for your anomaly to work, and moving around risks ruining the stroke, which–”

Mags cracked up suddenly, cutting off her ramble by scribbling a tickly little spiral right on the heel of Hotaru’s hand. The brunette squeaked out a breathy giggle, fingers tensing and curling as Mags continued to draw winding patterns along the smooth skin. She tugged futilely at her hand, hoping to escape Mags' loose hold on her–and her roommate released her grip in favor of fluttering her fingers across the pulse point on Hotaru's wrist. The seamstress wrenched her hand away with a burst of bubbly laughter, clasping it against her chest. She knew her face was burning with a blush this time as she glared half-heartedly at her crimson-haired companion. 

Mags winked playfully, looking all-too pleased with herself as she pointed the pen at Hotaru. “I meant you don't need to apologize for having ticklish hands, Bumblebee. I know you can’t help your reactions, so I’m not mad. It’s kinda cute, anyway.”

Ah. That’s what she meant.

Hotaru managed to bite back a whine of embarrassment at her words, flicking her gaze from the side of Mags’ face to the wall on her right. She puffs one cheek out to the side, a faux-pout clear on her lips as she retorted, “I don’t think disrupting your creative process counts as ‘cute’, Mags...”

When Mags didn’t respond for a moment, Hotaru had a brief worry that she had somehow made a mistake. Said something wrong, was too cold in her comments, too dismissive in her replies. She hadn’t upset Mags, right? Was this one of those moments where she was supposed to just say “thank you” to a hypothetical compliment and not argue? She winced, looking back at Mags and tried to figure out how to apologize.

But when she glanced at Mags, the other girl seemed to be nibbling on her lower lip, a habit Hotaru had realized Mags did when she was debating something with herself. The pair locked eyes for a moment, and Mags squeaked, forcing a shaky grin on her face, lifting her empty hand to form a clumsy finger-gun.

“W-Well, to be fair, I think everything about you is cute, so I might just be biased,” she hummed out with an air of falsified-confidence.

Hotaru just… stared, feeling her face grow warmer with each passing second.

… That was… flirting, right? Mags was flirting with her there? Or was she being her normal eccentric self? What… was the proper way to respond to that?

“... Was that… you flirting with me?” she eventually settled on, needing to know if she was misinterpreting that.

Mags’ grin faltered, and she whined–high-pitched and humiliated–while tugging her beanie over her face.

“I-I’m so sorry, that was so cheesy, um… never mind,” she rushed, tripping over her own words in an attempt to remedy the situation. “Just, yeah, never mind. I-I, uh… I was–flirting, I mean–but that was bad. Really bad. Pretend I didn’t say that, um… I-I’m not good at making stuff up on the fly.”

Hotaru blinked, listening to Mags babble through her nerves, feeling butterflies in her stomach as she replied that little comment in her head. Mags was flirting. Mags thought she was cute.

Mags thought she was cute?

She found her resolve a lot quicker than normal with that knowledge in mind, reaching a hand out and patting her roommate on the shoulder. When Mags seemed to calm a little with the contact, Hotaru gave her a reassuring squeeze, speaking up.

“... I’m not mad,” she replied. “... It… was a sweet sentiment. And it… was incredibly cheesy, yes, but I thought it was kind of cute.”

A pause. An impulse came to mind. And Hotaru let the ghost of a grin quirk at her lips as she tugged Mags’ beanie up enough to uncover her face, noting how her roommate’s cheeks were the same rosy hue as her hair.