*explodes Everywhere* Hi

😦😧🤯

THE VERY END OF CRIMINAL MINDS SEASON 9 EPISODE 18 THAT IS ALL

Me: I wanna make more tumblr friends. *Someone messages me* Also me: I have literally no energy to respond.  I am a corpse.

it’s not so bad here

fandom: criminal minds

w/c: 2155

pairing: platonic BAU (mostly prentiss and morgan), spencer reid

summary: perspective of spencer: on the jet ride home after a long case. The team is so tired they get a lil silly. fluff + minimum angst I mean it is spencer’s brain.

a/n: this is quite literally my first time for everything, my first time using tumblr and my first ever fanfiction. i had a lot of fun so perhaps expect more maybe?? I want to thank the amazing @nhasablogg for being the biggest inspiration and just so cool honestly. they helped a lot with this work and have just been the kindest person ever!!! anyway pls read the following with all this☝️in mind.

~~~~~~

Spencer never really got used to flying. The team was currently thirty-six-thousand-eight-hundred-sixty-four feet above what Spencer assumed (or more accurately, calculated) would be Tennessee based on flight patterns from Dallas to Quantico and the amount of time they’ve been in air for. Which was roughly three hours, forty-five minutes, six seconds. Seven. Eight. They had about three more hours to go.

The pressure was building in Spencer’s ears and he grimaced, swallowing hard in an attempt to pop them. He always felt a pang of anxiety whenever any pain came to his head, as his memory would replay his mother’s cries for relief during bad episodes.

There was one night when Spencer was eleven, experiencing his first true migraine after finishing his college applications. It was one of the few times Spencer remembered his mother taking care of him instead of the other way around, she was almost completely lucid. His fear was much stronger then, and while he was a boy-genius, his brain was still biologically too immature to handle it.

“I’m dying, mom.” The corners of his eyes wet with tears. His mother smiled at him. It wasn’t often that Spencer behaved his age like this.

“No baby, your head is just too full, and your skull is too small to contain it. The pain is just your head expanding, working to grow and stay ahead of your thoughts.”

“Actually, your brain can’t be too big for your skull. There’s just a blood vessel swelling, and that’s putting pressure on the surrounding nerves which is making the muscles around my skull tighten and causing…” he groaned in frustrated pain. His mother stroked his hair soothingly.

“Would you listen to your mother for once, Spencer? Just go to sleep, you can’t feel the world in your sleep, you know. Go somewhere other than this reality, where your head isn’t constantly working. Relieve some of that pressure... It’s too stressful here, isn’t it?” A far too familiar distant look crossed her eyes for a moment. He rushed to retrieve her.

“Mom.. would you stay with me tonight?”

She returned her son’s gaze. “Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”

His pain seeped out with every stroke, as if his mother’s fingers were magically sucking it out from his skin. As he fell asleep, he found that she was right. He didn’t feel anything. It was like traveling through time.

—————

The case in Texas was particularly rough. Over the past five days, the team got maybe a total of eight hours of rest each. And as far as successes go, they’ve gotten better wins. As a headache creeped up on Spencer, he kicked off his shoes and curled up on the jet couch for a nap. He fell asleep pretty quickly, ready to skip through the headache until he was in Virginia again.

But a funny sensation on his right foot caused his leg to jerk in. I thought I couldn’t feel the world in my sleep. He stirred to see Prentiss standing at the end of the couch.

“I like your socks, Reid.” She said, before wiggling her fingers over his left pink-and-purple striped sock.

“Hey!” He pulled his other leg in and smushed it against the cushion to smother the feeling. He checked his watch, the jet couldn’t be landing already? “What’d you wake me up for?”

“I couldn’t help myself. Purple’s my favorite color.” She grinned at his reaction, before it faded into a frown. “Hang on, now that you’re up though, how come you always get the full couch to sleep on?” Morgan leaned over from his seat, invested in the conversation.

“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to say something about that bull.” He craned his neck, exaggerating the pain of sleeping upright.

“Reid is the youngest,” Hotch said from out of nowhere, neither against him nor in his defense. Spencer hadn’t even noticed him watching. Had they all been watching him sleep? Rossi continued for Hotch, “I suppose he assumed he got first rights to the couch for being born last. And you all let him.”

Hotch went back to the paperwork in his lap, diligent even while running on no sleep. “No, what about Ashley Seaver? She was younger than Reid,” he said. Definitely against him.

“And he still took the couch. Like a gentleman,” said Rossi.

Suddenly, Spencer felt very ganged up on.

“Is that right?” Morgan squinted at Spencer as if he stole something precious from him.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” Prentiss said. “We can’t let him get away with this anymore.”

At first, he was confused by the rare playfulness of his coworkers, especially from Hotch adding to the banter after the crazy, long week. Then he realized; everyone was sleep deprived and filled with a goofy, delirious energy. And while they weren’t able to catch the unsub, they were able to return a young girl back to her family - traumatized, but albeit unharmed - something they saw far too little of. The feeling left everyone more fuzzy than anything, it outweighed the disappointment of losing the unsub. Reuniting a family always strengthened his own, Spencer thought. Perhaps that fuzziness and fatigue was expunging all the professionalism they maintained while the case was ongoing.

And now Spencer - who was just sleeping soundly on the couch that everyone was hungry for - was beginning to feel that fuzziness himself. He faced his back towards his team as he pulled his cover up to his chin and closed his eyes.

“If you wanted it, you should’ve gotten to it first.”

At that, he heard Morgan rise and make his way toward the couch. The blanket was ripped off him dramatically. He kept his eyes closed and opened his mouth to snore lightly. His snore lasted half a second before the sound was abruptly cut off, immediately snapping his mouth shut in a toothy grimace and slamming his elbow down to his side.

“Get your ass up, Reid,”

“No.” He buried his face into the back of the couch, trying to hide his smile as if the way his elbow followed each of Morgan’s delivered pokes didn’t give him away. Reid stiffened a bit more, he focused on schooling his reactions and moving less. If he started laughing, there was no way they would stop, probably even after he gave up what they wanted.

“C‘mon, it’s time to wake up.” His resolve began to crumble when Morgan tasered both sides of his ribs. “Share with the rest of us.”

“Ahhh-ha! Stop!” He huffed out a laugh before holding his breath to stop himself. His face quickly flushed as he wiggled on the couch.

“You know, everyone else sits during the whole flight. As a courtesy to the rest of the team. Except for you-” He accentuated by digging into his ribs again, causing another yelp and laugh to slip. “-who’s just sleeping here like a baby. What’s up with that?”

“Derek-“

“Hmm?”

He couldn’t speak.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Reid? You’re not ticklish, are you?” Prentiss cooed as if nobody could tell he would be just by looking at him.

That’s all it took to crack him. Once the hysterical laughter began he couldn’t stop it. Like a defense mechanism, his brain started working in overdrive to apply logic to best overcome this assault. It took no time to figure out he could never physically stop Morgan; in terms of strength he was far outmatched.

Well, tickling is essentially the body’s response to unpredictable stimuli, so theoretically he could dull the sensations by predicting the attacks. He could trick his brain into believing he was tickling himself. He applied it in a fraction of a second.

All he did was swat at Morgan’s hands in an awkwardly gentle manner, unable to take hold of them. It really did absolutely nothing. Spencer wondered if he were one of the few who could tickle himself.

Before he could think of another solution, Prentiss grabbed one of his arms and hoisted it up above his head.

“No no no, wait wait doN’T-“

Being able to predict was proven a completely worthless tactic. Morgan tickled under his arm and he screamed. His ears finally popped and he could hear the sounds of his own bright laughter at its true pitch. His defense mechanism was shot, as if Morgan’s fingers were sucking out any ability to form a useful thought.

“Oh my god, how’d an eagle get so high up here?” Prentiss teased before breaking down herself.

Spencer wailed and curled his legs in protectively. When that did nothing, he kicked and pulled down at his arm. When that did nothing, he fell back in a whiny giggle in an attempt to garner their sympathy. That did nothing but encourage them.

“Hotch!”

Hotch finished his note, glanced very briefly at his team before returning to his work with the slightest of smiles. Spencer felt betrayed. Supervisory special agent my AAHHAA-

“Oh oh, what’s going on? It sounds like fun, let me see,” JJ turned the laptop over to show Garcia what was happening: Spencer flopping red in the face with Morgan practically sitting on him, Prentiss crouching - legs wobbly from her own laughter - behind Spencer’s head, still holding onto his arm.

“Oh geez, Spencer. How did I not know you were ticklish! Because of course you are. What did he do to deserve this? Did he cheat at Go Fish again?”

Upon seeing Garcia’s grin and his own disheveled form mirrored back at him, Spencer felt embarrassed. If anyone was going to make this a recurring experience, it would be her. He wasn’t totally against the idea, which made him blush furiously harder.

“Okay, okayokay! Y-you can have the couch. I don’t want it. I don’t want it!” Prentiss let go and Spencer squirmed out of Morgan’s grasp, falling to the floor of the jet. He stayed there catching his breath in high-pitched giggles, bewildered by what just happened. He wiped his eyes and looked up at Hotch and Rossi, who stared down at him with immense amusement.

“Thanks for the help guys,” he exhaled, exhausted. They both shook their heads with fond smiles.

“I trusted my agents could handle an internal conflict on their own,” Hotch said.

“You mean manhandle..”

He looked to Morgan, who was settling comfortably on the couch with Reid’s blanket, Prentiss cuddling next to him. He rubbed his sides and looked down at the ground, defeated.

“There’s plenty of room for all of us, big guy,” Prentiss offered her hand, inviting him to the couch. Spencer took it with a smile and sat down awkwardly with his hands resting on his thighs. She draped the blanket over the three of them.

“I’m sorry for being a couch hog.”

“I’m sure you are,” Prentiss snickered.

“It’s alright, Reid, you seem like you always need the sleep. We were just having fun. Did we go too far?” Morgan asked sincerely, arm around Emily and hand on Reid’s shoulder.

“Nah.. I-I had fun too. I mean, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. I don’t think you guys have either actually.”

“Yeah, well, you did look really funny.” Prentiss said.

Spencer nudged her with a smile, earning him a poke which he quickly followed with a soft noooo don’t.

Morgan scratched the side of his head, mostly to teasingly get his attention. But it felt nice. “Start preparing for a lot more of that.”

“Hmm.. my mom used to do this for me.”

“Tickle you?”

“Uh, no. Stroke my hair. Whenever I got a bad headache, she would tell me to sleep, and then she would pet me until I did.”

“Do you have a headache now?”

“Earlier, a little.”

Without saying any more, Morgan patted down his (now) short hair before stroking up and down soothingly.

“Like that?”

Spencer slumped over and began fake-snoring. Morgan withdrew his hand and sat up a little straighter, which immediately woke him back up “I’m kidding I’m kidding I’m kidding please just- keep doing what you were doing.” They returned to their original positions after Morgan shot him a warning look.

Prentiss rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned his own head back against the couch and allowed himself to relax. The reality of Emily being there with all of them suddenly hit him. Countless nights he begged for her death to be reversed, to be a hoax. To be replaced even. Back then he wished to go to another reality, somewhere without the pressure and the stress, somewhere he couldn’t feel the world. But now, how lucky was he for her to be returned, for her to be truly safe and sound and laughing with them again? He would rather be nowhere else.

He checked his watch, there was two hours left of the flight. The three of them fell asleep very quickly, but rather than try to skip through time, Spencer savored the moment.

😦😧🤯

STOP THE FUCKING PRESS, WE HAVE TICKLISH SEBASTIAN STAN

ANABELLE WENT IN DEFINITELY TO TICKLE HIM, AND HIS REACTION IS A MIXTURE OF ANTICIPATORY TICKLES AND FEELING TICKLISH AT THE SAME TIME. which leads me to believe he is super ticklish, as anabelle didn’t fully launch an attack but he still grabbed her arm and flinched away.

GUYS IDK WHAT TO DO HELP I NEED MORE, WE GOT IT @barnesrogers-blog

Built To Laugh (Good Omens)

(Lee!Crowley, Ler!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale has been laughing at Crowley all day. Maybe it’s the demon’s turn to laugh for a change?

A/N : this fic takes place after s1 but before s2! so obvs no spoilers for s2 here 😁 i also have not gotten my laptop fixed unfortunately so if there’s any errors it’s prbly cause i wrote this on my phone which i’m Not used to LOL

Word Count : 3304

hope u enjoy!! :)

. . .

When Aziraphale gets in these moods, Crowley can’t help but smile. Well, internally smile. He sorta prides himself on the air of mystery that surrounds his emotions. So he bites his tongue as Aziraphale giggles at him, laughing at how utterly annoyed Crowley looks by his antics.

Aziraphale had found an old joke book in the shop. Well, not really old, when in the hands of beings that have existed since the literal dawn of time. Actually, it couldn’t have been published more than 30 years ago. But it was old in the sense that Aziraphale hadn’t touched it since it had been brought in all those years ago.

Aziraphale told a vague story to Crowley about how it had landed in his possession (this was, of course, after telling him a truly horrible knock-knock joke that Crowley demanded an explanation for why he was being tortured so unjustly). But that story doesn’t matter anymore. What does matter is how giggly Aziraphale has become since realizing how irritating this all was to Crowley.

“Blehck, HORRIBLE, just fffffucking—You’re the angel, I’m the one supposed to be torturing you right now,” said Crowley, exaggerating his hatred of dad jokes just a bit (not by much, these jokes truly were horrible) just to see Aziraphale do that thing when he giggles, covering his mouth and clutching that wretched joke book.

“That was a really bad one, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale said once he collected himself.

“Yes, yes, it was, now will you please stop before I groan myself to death?”

“Always with the dramatics, you are,” said Aziraphale, before grinning, “Just one more?”

Crowley grimaced. “Grk…for the road, I suppose.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, for the road!” He stuck his nose right back into the book, and it wouldn’t be such an unfamiliar sight if he hadn’t been looking up at Crowley every other second just to watch the demon stir.

When Crowley heard a gasp from Aziraphale, he knew he’d found his grand finale. Maybe he’d saved the best for last? (And in the angel’s opinion, he had. Just not in Crowley’s favor.)

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Get on with it.”

“Yes, but are you ready ready?”

Crowley stuck an eyebrow up. Aziraphale just kept smiling. ‘He really is in the best mood today, isn’t he?’ Crowley thought.

“Crowley, do tell me…when is a door not a door?” His cheeks were plump with the force of his giddy smile.

Crowley blinked. His arms were crossed, laying back lazily against the bookshop’s old cushion chair. He tapped his finger against his arm impatiently.

Of course, this just made Aziraphale smile bigger.

“Come on! You have to play along, it’s part of the fun!”

“For you, angel, part of the fun for you.”

“Maybe you’ll start having fun too if you work with me here.”

“You’re working me, that’s what’s happening right now.”

“Just ask and this will all be over with,” Aziraphale raised his brows for a moment like he does when he gets all smug and silly. Crowley had to bite his tongue not to smile at that.

“Ffffffine,” Crowley sighed hard in feigned exasperation. “Well, I just don’t know, angel! When would a door not be a door? Seems like a paradox to me!”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “When it’s ajar!”

Crowley could only stare blankly at the tittering angel before him. It was a bit hard to conceal his own giggles as Aziraphale burst into laughter seeing Crowley’s unamused expression. But he held steadfast, refusing even the slightest chortle. Crowley hadn’t seen Aziraphale laugh like this in what felt like a millennia.

“You’re a silly one, Aziraphale. A real splinter in my ass.”

Crowley hadn’t seen a more angelic sight in so long. He felt his own face grow warm watching as Aziraphale tried collecting himself, but found he’d been caught back in his deadly case of the giggles. It was just precious.

“You think you’re a real comedian, don’t you?” Crowley said while trying to cover his own smile slyly, elbow now propped on the arm of the chair as he pushed his face into his hand. He tried looking as annoyed as possible.

Soon, Aziraphale caught his breath, a stray giggle leaving every few moments despite himself. They were now staring at each other, both too lost in the moment to think too hard on the implications of it.

But, as it usually goes in moments like this, Aziraphale put the brakes on first. He sat the book on the side table next to him before pushing himself off the chair. “Well, that was rather fun. But I do have some paperwork to fill out regarding the shop. Upstairs always feels the need to know how it’s running,” He gave Crowley an empathetic smile that almost said ‘It did feel good, but you know it can’t last.’ At least, that’s how Crowley interprets it. It’s the same smile he’s been giving him all these years, after every little moment the two shared.

It wasn’t the type of smile Crowley wishes to see on Aziraphale. He rather liked the real ones, with Aziraphale’s round cheeks going pink, the ones with the little lines appearing next to his squinted eyes. Those made him feel warm. This smile always feels distant…more cold.

“Yes well…guess I should be goin’ then, wouldn’t want to distract you from your heavenly duties,” Crowley made his voice go all funny on the last words, almost snarling. Maybe he was trying to make Aziraphale laugh. If he had been, it didn’t work.

“Oh you’re more than welcome to stay! I do believe I have some wine left over from last time, if you want to get started before…well, I thought I could maybe join you after I’m finished,” Aziraphale looked bashful. Apologetic, almost. But he chippered up quickly, pointing a finger to the sky. “Heavenly duties!” He repeated the demon’s words with a hummed chuckle, before retreating away to his study.

He’s always been like this. Leaving before Crowley could accept, so once Aziraphale returned from work it’s like it was entirely Crowley’s decision rather he’d stay or not. Like Aziraphale hadn’t offered in the first place. But that was fine with Crowley. Because even if Aziraphale pretended it hadn’t happened, they both knew it had, and there was a silent agreement between them to not bring it up.

So Crowley did wait in that back room of the shop, where all the giggles and jokes and flirtatious annoyance had grown that lovely tension to start the evening off right once Aziraphale returned.

He didn’t, however, start drinking yet. Crowley rather liked to start sober when they drank together. That way it felt more like an activity they were starting together rather than one Aziraphale was just joining him on.

It was around two hours Aziraphale worked before returning. He walked into the back, giving a surprised smile seeing Crowley had indeed waited for him.

“Ah, you grabbed the good bottle, I see,” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers in the air like one would before diving into a slice of cake. He noticed the bottle had been unopened, and did not mention it.

“Dunno, seems a good night for it,” Crowley popped the cork out with ease, filling one glass he’d brought in for Aziraphale before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Oh? And why is that?” Aziraphale sat on his preferred chair before taking the glass and sipping in a dignified manner.

Crowley wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You just seemed in a good mood today s’all. Figured we could end the night right, proper wine to get your mind out of all that blasted paper.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose I was in rather high spirits earlier. I don’t know what it was about all those jokes, but at the moment they really tickled my funny bone,” Aziraphale took a sip and hummed delightedly.

“Right tickled you were. Could hardly catch your breath, and they weren’t even funny jokes, angel. Really, I’ve got to introduce you to some actual comedians cause it was just a sad display of your humor.”

Aziraphale looked into the glass, swirling his wine. He gave a shy smile without looking up at Crowley. “Maybe it was partly so funny because you just seemed so…agitated by it all.”

Crowley’s eyes widened a bit, surprised Aziraphale actually admitted to it. He couldn’t hold back a smile anymore, and he’d blame the wine for it if you asked. “Oh so I’m what got you all giggly earlier?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but he too couldn’t keep a smile off his face if he tried. He’d also blame the wine. “Oh hush, you wily serpent. It was just funny seeing you so irritated at simple jokes.”

“Nah nah, we’re not moving past this. You think I’m funny!”

“I never said that. If you must know I was…laughing at your expense,” Aziraphale hid his mischievous smile behind the glass as he took a sip.

Crowley gaped in amused disbelief. “So you were making fun of me then? Right, okay, I see how it is-”

“Well it’s a little hard not to when you have such a silly reaction to it!” Aziraphale gestured his free hand towards Crowley as if to say he’s doing it right now.

“Silly reaction? Whaddya mean silly reaction, all my reactions are perfectly rational and mean-spirited and never, never silly,” he growled the word as if to prove his point, but he only succeeded in making Aziraphale giggle again. He turned his head to hide his smile.

Aziraphale took a quiet sip from his glass again, his eyes peering over the edge to look at Crowley. Once he put the glass back in his lap, he said, “I rather like when you’re silly, darling.”

Crowley blushed deep. Darling? He—Aziraphale rarely ever used the word darling. But every time he’s done it these 6000 years (which, again, hadn’t been too often) it sent something wicked through Crowley’s system.

Crowley changed the topic quickly. If he didn’t, he’d probably combust from having to think too hard about what all that meant, and if it meant anything at all.

So they talked for a while. About nonsense, mostly. Just jabber to fill the silence and let out all the thoughts they’d been thinking and waiting to share with the other. They’d both grown just a tad tipsy at this point, and Crowley was almost ready to grab another bottle.

Mainly because he wanted to steer back to their first topic again.

“Yknow I was just thinkin’…you said you, er—that you like when I’m silly, or whatever it was you said. And I…well, I rather like it when you laugh. Has that, er…angelic quality to it. But not in a bad way, I suppose.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s literally in your DNA, if we even have that. Do angels and demons have DNA? I suppose not, but I mean something’s gotta compose all that’s happening here, physically I mean,” Crowley rambled, now definitely tipsy. He took another swig. “But, yeah like, there’s literally that saying, ‘angelic laughter.’ It’s all up in you, you’re built to have a good laugh.”

“Yes, maybe so. But you have a nice laugh, Crowley! So it can’t all be angelic,” said Aziraphale.

“I do not have a nice laugh. You may have angelic laughter, but I’ve got a demonic cackle. Very different things,” Crowley could feel himself blush, but it was all thanks to the wine. Most definitely.

“I have heard you laugh on many occasions, and in none of them would I describe it as a demonic cackle. If anything you’re more of a giggler,” Aziraphale reached his glass out to Crowley, and through instinct he filled it for him.

“We are not doing this, I refuse to have this argument,” Crowley said before arguing, “Giggling is not something I am even capable of. Not in my DNA.”

“I thought you established we don’t have DNA?”

“Point stands, it’s not in my bones. Giggling is-is-it’s, well— it’s childish, for one, and children aren’t typically seen as demonic.”

“After helping raise Warlock I’d beg to differ, and he wasn’t even the Anti-Christ we thought he was-“

“STILL, angel, still! Point stands, not going back on it. Let’s change the subject, let’s talk about-about dolphins or some nonsense, I don’t really care-“

Aziraphale stood from his chair, and Crowley shut up. He sat next to Crowley on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Crowley’s voice was low and suspicious. Aziraphale sat his glass on the table, even going so far as to take the bottle from Crowley’s hand to do the same. Crowley let him, of course, but not without raising an eyebrow. “I said, what are you doing?”

“I’m glad you’ve taken that leather coat off, or this would be a much harder ordeal than it needs to be,” Aziraphale said before cracking his knuckles dramatically, waving his hands about as if to loosen them. Crowley’s brows were furrowed and eyes wide.

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Crowley leaned back against the couch, as if to say ‘nope, this isn’t affecting me at all, I’m not the least bit nervous about whatever it is you’re planning right now. I am the image of relaxed.’ His leg was bouncing.

“Well, you claim that you don’t giggle. I want to counter that argument, and I know exactly how to do it,” Aziraphale gave Crowley a devious smile, one an angel shouldn’t be allowed to pull, before wiggling his fingers in the air towards Crowley. Crowley immediately backed his body away, only getting as far as the arm of the couch.

“No, no—you cannot—this is not the direction I’m letting this conversation go!” Crowley held his hands up defensively, curling his legs into himself like the snake he was.

“Come now, you can’t handle a little friendly competition?”

“Hell do you mean competition?! You tickle me, I lose, there’s no competition to be had!” Crowley practically shouted, his nerves taking over.

Crowley had always been on the more…sensitive side, one might say. It was something Aziraphale always found a little too amusing. “You’re a demon!” He’d say, “It’s just so silly how a demon could be as ticklish as you are!”

Crowley did not find it silly. In fact, he found it to be quite the pain in his ass. How was he supposed to look all scary and menacing and demonic when pinching his belly made him fall into laughter so unlike him?

“So you admit you would giggle if I tickled you?”

“When did I ever say that?” Crowley was trying to shove Aziraphale away with his feet now, kicking (maybe too softly) at his thighs like it would do a thing. Aziraphale held his ground like a solid rock.

“Well you said you’d lose! So obviously that means you would giggle if I were to, say…” Aziraphale quickly grabbed hold of one of Crowley’s pestering ankles, scribbling his nails into the socked sole.

“GAHK! NO-!” Crowley shouted, thinking maybe if he expelled his energy through loud sound he might not fall into those giggles Aziraphale apparently thought so much of.

But he didn’t hold strong for long. Luckily, though, his feet were a little too ticklish for mere giggles. Instead, he cackled like no one’s business, so maybe he would win this argument after all.

“Stop! Ahahangel stop! I’ll kick you!” Crowley barked out through roaring laughter. He actually was already kicking Aziraphale, but it was still at his thighs like before. He was just worried he’d eventually nail the angel right in the nose if he kept up with it.

“Well, you aren’t exactly giggling, but maybe it’s just because your feet are too ticklish,” Aziraphale inquired like a scientist running a study. Crowley wrapped his arms around his midsection through his laughter.

“Yehehes they ARE! Now quihihit!” Crowley couldn’t take tickling on his feet for too long, it really was too horrible to bear. Curse this wretched vessel and its terrifyingly sensitive nerve endings.

Without saying a word, Aziraphale darted his hands to the spot just above Crowley’s knees, giving them quick pinches and observing Crowley like a specimen.

“Ohoho nohoho! Angel plehehease!” Crowley felt his resolve slipping, falling into a more giggly realm than before. He gripped onto Aziraphale’s wrists like a lifeline, not shoving him away out of pure trust. Goodness, feelings were a curse.

“Aha! I believe I’ve found quite the giggly spot on you, Anthony!” Aziraphale teased. He only ever used that name when he was trying to get under Crowley’s skin, and damn it if it wasn’t working.

Crowley hated how quickly his face began to flame, a small blink-and-you-miss-it whine slipping from his lips. “You cahahan’t do this to mehehe!” He playfully swat at the hands tickling his knees, rolling over like it’d deter his situation at all. “I’m druhuhunk you bahastard!”

“Yes yes, drunk and oh so giggly,” Aziraphale reiterated, really driving it home how he’d won their little argument. “But it’s so divine hearing you like this, I really don’t want to stop.”

God, Satan, someone help him. Not because Crowley needs the saving, but because now he’s not sure he wants to be saved.

“Ehehevil! Wrehehetched angel!” Crowley giggled, before letting out a very undemonic squeak as fingers began pinching up and down his sides. Aziraphale was practically hovering over him now, and if Crowley’s face wasn’t warm before, it was searing hot now.

“Nohohoho!” Crowley swat at Aziraphale’s hands and arms, squirming from side to side and his midsection was attacked viciously by angelicly gentle fingers.

“Why not, Crowley?” Aziraphale pinched Crowley’s lower ribs, a killer spot on the demon he was very familiar with.

“Behehecause!” Crowley had no good retort in his giggly state, head swarming with endorphins.

“Because why?” Aziraphale was mean when he was in these moods.

“You bahahastard!” Crowley flopped to one side just to protect half of himself (and also to hide his face in the back of the couch), now letting Aziraphale play with his open side like a grand piano. It was miserably fun.

Crowley let Aziraphale play with his ribs for a solid two minutes, giggling his head off into the cushion, before finally having enough and grabbing Aziraphale’s wrists for real this time.

He panted, still hiding his face in the couch. “You…are without a doubt, the most evil angel to ever be created. Just…just deplorable.”

“Oh come on. You can’t say you didn’t have a little fun,” Aziraphale spoke softly, still tipsy and stroking Crowley’s arm like it was second nature.

“I absolutely can say that, actually. Wouldn’t—wouldn’t exactly qualify bein’ tortured as my favorite pastime,” Crowley curled in on himself, if only to hide his lingering smile.

“Always so dramatic,” said Aziraphal before giving Crowley a pat and raising himself off the sofa. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could certainly do with some more wine, and we’re just about empty. I’ll be back in a moment, dear.”

Aziraphale once again left the room, leaving Crowley to lie on his back and ponder. Thoughts of how silly that situation was, imagine one of the higher ups seeing him in that kind of state. It’d be to the pit for Crowley in an instant. Well, if he still worked for them that is.

Also, Aziraphale had been really pulling him around all day, hadn’t he? Laughing at his expense, tickling the daylights out of him when he’s utterly inebriated. Well, that just won’t do. Won’t do at all.

An angel doesn’t get to just play with a demon all he likes and expect no repercussions.

Crowley pondered some more on that. Just thoughts of revenge and a devilishly ticklish angel he can’t wait to get his hands on.

. . .

a/n : hope u liked it!! thankfully not as sad as my last one i couldn’t take more angst LMAO

he's a ten but the bbc keeps calling him the fourteenth doctor

Aziraphale's Literary Discovery

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @practickles!!! I am your squealing santa this year :)) I hope this is everything you hoped for and more!! (and now i can follow you without being worried that i'll blow my cover lol)

@squealing-santa

screw canon(/j), they are happy together and have tickles.

switch!aziraphale, switch!crowley.

cw: light mentions of alcohol/sobering up magically, cursing (because it's Crowley), using a miracle to pin someone that could be read as invisible bondage.

Aziraphale turned a page in his book, but wasn't really reading anymore. This had been happening more and more often: he would stop reading just to think about the demon who was currently asleep on his couch.

Aziraphale and Crowley had finished off some good wine last night, and instead of sobering up, Crowley had decided to sleep it off on the bookshop's couch. The angel had sobered up, reading all through the night with the occasional glance to the demon's sleeping form.

Honestly, Aziraphale prefers Crowley awake. He loves the demon's antics and being able to spend time together (although the serenity and calmness radiating off the demon's lanky form was delightful). He didn't technically need to breathe, but he did -- soft deep breaths that were almost soft snores.

Aziraphale quickly snapped himself out of the trance he had been in, staring at his friend(?), and glancing back at the book. It was a sweet romcom, one that left Aziraphale feeling giddy and with butterflies in his stomach. The couple in his book were playful, and in the current scene, were poking each other and giggling. This was a fascinating idea that humans called "tickling", which led to supposedly uncontrollable laughter and seemed like a sweet bonding exercise.

Something clicked in his mind and he looked back at Crowley asleep on the couch, limbs splayed out haphazardly. His tight-fitting shirt had risen a little, leaving a sliver of the pale skin of his lower stomach on display. Aziraphale gasped excitedly, looking back at his book where the tickle fight was happening. Supposedly, even small touches could lead to ticklish sensations!

He stood up, beginning to creep over to the sleeping figure, before realizing that Crowley could sleep through almost anything and walking over normally. The angel stared at him with wide eyes, glancing back and forth between his calm face and the sliver of exposed stomach. He tentatively reached out a finger, poking Crowley's abdomen.

There was a faint reaction, a small breath hitching in between small snores and Crowley squirmed a bit. Was Crowley ticklish?! How silly! How human! What a delightful discovery! He giddily clapped, then began tracing the sliver of exposed skin. Crowley huffed, squirmed, and scrunched up his nose a bit, before rolling over and crossing his arms over his stomach.

Aziraphale was ecstatic at his findings, and couldn't wait to enact something rather devious (by his standards)!

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A few days later, he woke a grumpy Crowley up from his nap (and if Crowley became less grumpy when he noticed that he was covered in a cozy blanket, the angel didn't need to know). Aziraphale had a mission: go on a date -- a Friend Date (he told himself, at least) -- and bring up tickling to him! The angel had an innate need to tickle Crowley now, see his presumably adorable reactions, and have the physical contact that the angel began to crave.

"Come on, Crowley!" Aziraphale grinned, pulling the demon into a seated position by his hand.

Crowley grumbled, "For what?"

Crowley seemed entirely uninterested, but in truth, he loved spending time with Aziraphale and would do anything if Aziraphale truly wanted to spend time with him.

"A picnic!" Aziraphale gestured to a wicker basket stocked full of goodies.

Crowley rolled his eyes (but was truly content with this plan), put his shoes on, and drove them to a gorgeous woodsy park. When they had found their own spot, Aziraphale spread out a blanket on the grass, sat down, and began unpacking some small sandwiches and poured them both a glass of wine.

"Not so much now, my dear boy," He handed Crowley the wine, "I'd like you awake for a little while. It's dreadfully boring being all alone and reading by myself!"

He got nothing but a grunt in return, but everything was perfect, so Aziraphale continued on with his ramblings.

In between bites of his sandwiches, he told Crowley all about the books he had been reading, but especially about the lovely rom-com he had just read.

"They had such a lovely relationship! Human love just excites me so much! They do so many sweet things together, not unlike us!"

"Ngk-" Crowley choked slightly on his wine and turned a bit pink, but Aziraphale didn't seem to notice.

"They certainly touched a lot more than we do, though, Crowley!" The angel pouted.

Crowley shrugged, "We're not having sex."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's mouth gaped as he gasped, smacking the demon softly on his leg, "Don't say that! They touched plenty without sexual implications!"

Crowley sipped his wine, not needing to respond.

"They cuddled, and kissed, and even- well," Aziraphale cut himself off, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

This now intrigued Crowley, who sat up a bit, and looked at Aziraphale, scooting closer so they were side by side.

He teased Aziraphale, "Oh? Was it sexual then? You realized I was right and you were wrong?"

Aziraphale huffed indignantly, "No! I'm just not sure if you even know what it is!"

Oh, Crowley was so up for a challenge. "I'm sure I would! I know much more about humans than you do."

Aziraphale leaned closer, grinning and placing a hand on the blanket behind Crowley, so they were almost touching. "Oh really?"

Crowley smirked and nodded, taking his sunglasses off and stowing them safely in the picnic basket, so he could look at Aziraphale in the eyes to show him how serious he was.

"Yes, they were tickling each other!" Aziraphale grinned, hoping that Crowley wouldn't know about tickling, so he could teach him.

"Oh, that? How would I not know about that?" Crowley didn't let anything slip, so Aziraphale thought it might be possible that he just didn't know.

"Yes, I think that's quite intimate," Aziraphale reached out and placed a hand on Crowley's knee, "it seems sweet to me!"

Crowley grumbled, avoiding eye contact awkwardly. "What, is this your way of asking me to tickle you?"

Aziraphale stammered, protesting quickly, "Why would I want that?!"

Now it was Crowley's turn to look offended, "There's nothing wrong with wanting that!"

Aziraphale was now slightly grumpy; this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Crowley had that devilish (albeit attractive) grin across his face, placing a hand on Aziraphale's side.

"This wasn't how this was supposed to goHO-" Aziraphale smacked a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Crowley, that evil, evil demon, had squeezed Aziraphale's side! What a terrible thing for his corperal form to feel! Aziraphale, in all his planning, could not have anticipated this!

A small smirk crept across Crowley's face as he put the other hand on Aziraphale's clothed side and squeezed a few times in a row.

Aziraphale's hands flew down from his mouth to his sides, weakly pushing at Crowley's hands as he laughed heartily. His smile was beautiful. It was, well, angelic.

Crowley was right. Aziraphale thought this was quite nice. He hadn't laughed this hard in a while, and seeing Crowley's enjoyment of his reactions was amazing!

Crowley smiled widely, skittering his nimble fingers along Aziraphale's gorgeous plush stomach, before refocusing his attention on Aziraphale's thighs. Aziraphale's magnificently scrumptious thighs, currently busy with Aziraphale's frantically kicking feet. Crowley stopped, giving Aziraphale a small break, before placing his hands on those delightful thighs.

Aziraphale was not worried in the slightest; he had never heard of someone's thighs being ticklish, just the usual suspects like the upper body, feet, neck, and hips. But thighs? That seemed silly... until Crowley started squeezing them.

Aziraphale barked out a laugh, falling gently on his back as he was unable to hold himself sitting up. He made noises that were so embarrassing: he even squealed! Crowley was unwavering in his ticklish squeezing, grinning broadly. Aziraphale was laughing harder than he ever had, his head shaking back and forth as he laughed frantically, beginning to push at Crowley's hands again. This was Crowley's cue to slow down, and he moved his hands back up to the angel's stomach to gently trace shapes as Aziraphale recovered.

"Y- you're evil!" Aziraphale gasped, still giggling.

"I'm a demon, that's kind of the whole point," Crowley deadpanned, although unable to wipe the smile off his face.

Aziraphale caught his breath, then grabbed Crowley's hands. Crowley's eyes widened slightly, but he tried to play it off, scoffing.

Aziraphale sat up quickly, pushing Crowley onto his back and pinning him there with shocking strength. Crowley looked at him confused and began squirming awkwardly. Aziraphale had fully sat on his hips, pinning his arms above his head as he leaned over the demon, their faces quite close together.

"What? How did you-" Crowley stammered, baffled by Aziraphale's strength, "What are you doing?"

Aziraphale grinned, excited to give Crowley all the exposition of his plan. "When I was reading that book, I tried tickling you, when you were asleep. I poked you, and you reacted! I have to try it again!"

Crowley blushed a bit, before retorting, "Angel, anyone would react to being poked. I'm not ticklish, I'm a demon. Being ticklish is all- cute and innocent. I'm neither of those things."

"I beg to differ," Aziraphale grinned, slipping his warm hand under Crowley's tight shirt, beginning to trace circles on Crowley's stomach.

Crowley's brain short circuted. Not only was the angel on top of him, but he was touching Crowley more intimately than they'd ever touched. And Crowley did feel something -- was that being ticklish?

Crowley squirmed, averting his eyes from Aziraphale's as he clamped his mouth shut.

Aziraphale, ever so oblivious, was slightly upset that it didn't really effect Crowley like it did when he was asleep. Maybe he was controlling his reactions? Maybe he truly was right and wasn't ticklish!

Aziraphale huffed, "You really reacted the other day, I promise!"

Crowley was trying his best to not react, his serpentine eyes flicking towards Aziraphale's well-manicured hand, still tracing under his shirt.

"Ngk- just give it a rest, angel!" Crowley sputtered, feeling giggles (Yes, giggles! Demons aren't supposed to giggle!) bubbling up in his chest.

Aziraphale was starting to feel a bit hopeless; he thought it would have been incredibly endearing if Crowley was ticklish. The demon barely smiled (not counting his mischievous smirks), and Aziraphale would love to hear him laugh, truly laugh, for the first time in years. Aziraphale pouted and decided to give it one last go.

He poked Crowley in the side.

Crowley gasped, jumped, and made awkward eye contact with the angel on top of him.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was ecstatic! A giddy smile broke across his face.

"No, angel, no. I was just startled-" Crowley said quickly, squirming.

"Oh my dear Crowley, my dear silly demon..." Aziraphale grinned.

"No angel I-" Crowley couldn't focus on being called Aziraphale's, due to the imminent danger of him being tickled.

Much to his dismay, Aziraphale began ruthlessly skittering his fingers over Crowley's stomach and sides. Damn his fashionable outfits! The shirt he was wearing was incredibly thin and did nothing to protect him from the angel's attack.

Crowley tried to keep his mouth shut and hide his reactions, but his attempts were futile. He burst out into loud laughter and squirmed as much as he could (which wasn't much). It made sense why tickling was used as a torture method in the past; he would have given up any secret that Aziraphale could ask for in this moment! Although, there was something nice about it: the intimacy, the giddy feeling, and Aziraphale's touch gave him a rush of happiness.

"Why are you laughing, my dear boy? Thought of something devious? Scheming?" Aziraphale laughed along with Crowley -- for such a supposedly evil being, he sure had a contagious laugh -- and scribbled his fingers even faster. "Or are you just... ticklish?"

And if Crowley's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink, he hoped Aziraphale didn't notice.

"You're- teasing- me!" He sputtered indignantly, through bright, happy laughter.

Aziraphale paused, pretending to look offended, "No I'm not! I'm simply asking questions to figure out why you're laughing so much!"

In the midst of talking, he wasn't paying attention to what his hands were doing. His hands moved down to the hem of Crowley's shirt, causing the demon to jump, eyes wide.

Aziraphale's eyebrow raised quickly, "Oh?"

Crowley shook his head, stammering "No," and tugging on his hands.

As both of them knew, although the angel's corporeal form was strong, Crowley could easily have gotten his arms free by non-human means. Maybe he just didn't want to.

The most devilish grin to ever cross an angels face suddenly appeared on Aziraphale's. He let go of Crowley's arms, but not before preforming a miracle that kept his arms trapped in place, taut above his head.

Crowley's snake-like eyes grew wider as he tugged frantically on his arms, beginning to giggle nervously. His whole 'bad boy' persona was completely gone now, and he was quite enjoying this (though he'd never admit such a silly thing).

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale teased, wiggling his fingers at the squirming demon, "are you prepared for your demise?"

That shut Crowley up.

Until Aziraphale did something truly evil. Something so evil that even the higher-ups in Hell couldn't dream of. He repeatedly squeezed Crowley's hips.

Crowley made the most embarrassing noise possible -- he squealed.

"AAAAZiraphale!!!" He laughed, wiggling as much as possible, "YOU BASSSSTARD!!"

Curse that stupid hissing. Usually he was able to disguise it, whenever Aziraphale caught him off guard with accidental(?) flirting or made a silly joke that a big bad demon like himself shouldn't laugh at. Speaking of laughing, Crowley was laughing more than he ever had in his life.

And it felt amazing. Having his angel so close to him in such an intimate way, literally on top of him. He was able to let his guard down.

The angel gasped, "What did you just call me, my dear boy?!"

Aziraphale skittered his fingers around Crowley's stomach and sides, relishing in the rare and genuine laughter.

Luckily, although neither of them could be sure if it was intentional or not, Aziraphale's miracle that pinned Crowley's hand was slowly faltering. Crowley didn't realize (he was laughing too hard to think about much) until his arms subconsciously snapped down to grab at Aziraphale's hands.

Aziraphale paused his attack, concerned about his friend(?). Crowley looked at him, as his leftover giggles became slightly more devious.

Crowley latched his clawed hands onto Aziraphale's clothed sides and rapidly squeezed, disrupting the power that Aziraphale had held over him, and toppling them both over onto their sides, facing each other.

Aziraphale tickled Crowley back, angelic giggles pouring out of his mouth.

"You- you're such a demon!" He exclaimed through loud laughter.

Crowley nodded, squirming closer to Aziraphale as they tickled each other.

They were practically cuddling as their fingers slowed to tracing each other's abdomens, softly giggling.

Aziraphale stared into Crowley's gorgeous auburn eyes and was struck with a sense of overwhelming love.

Crowley's smile was wider than it should have been from leftover giggles as he watched the angel and his smile and gorgeous face. As if God Herself had heard his thoughts, sunlight struck the angel's face in a certain way where he looked like he was glowing (although he may have been radiating an otherworldly glow from overwhelming happiness).

They stayed there for a while, in each others arms, staring lovingly into each other's eyes.

If you made it this far, thank you. Reblogs help writers and artists on tumblr a lot, so consider reblogging if you enjoyed <3. If you'd like, send me an ask if you want to talk about anything (related or unrelated to this fic), as it motivates me to write more.

hello this is my first post ever the following will be me testing out absolutely everything please stay tuned with patience

Checkmate

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Morgan, Hotch, Reid

Anonymous said: so for lee!reid, could it be that he’s constantly bragging abt how good he is at chess, and hotch and morgan tickle him in an attempt to (lovingly) bring down his ego

Words: 630

“Checkmate.”

“Oh, come on.”

Reid seemed to try, to his credit, not to gloat, but Morgan knew this scenario all too well. Had seen it with both himself and other members of the team. The only person who rarely got to see Reid brag about winning chess was Gideon, but Reid probably wouldn’t be gloating at Gideon anyway.

He watched him now, annoyance rising slowly inside of him as Reid bit his lip to keep from smiling, eyes downcast, looking so goddamn smug that Morgan nearly angered, having siblings and all. Maybe it was because he had siblings that he found himself unable to not take the bait. “You cheated.”

“I didn’t,” Reid said matter of factly. When he looked up he seemed earnest, which made Morgan huff. “I swear.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t be so goddamn smug about it.”

Reid turned to Hotch, who was sitting beside him with his gaze stuck on the case file. “Tell him you can’t cheat at chess.”

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.....Guys, Spencer writes coffee shops AUs, Spencer writes coffee shops AUs, SPENCER WRITES COFFEE SHOPS AUS-