Hehehe Whats It Like Being The Short Spooders? XD

Hehehe what’s it like being the short spooders? XD

Happy Birthday Peter 3 (Andrew Garfield)!!!

Cool Guy

Anon: Heya! If you're still doing them, could you make a tickle fic on Luke and Han but js Han getting Luke? I love the whole Luke being like Hans lil bro 😭 An idea being maybe Luke is embarrassing Han in front of Leia and Han gets him back, Leia maybe helping Han a bit? I like your fics a lot haha! It's alr if not ofc, js have a good day! :D <3

Summary: Han is cool, suave, and absolutely irresistible. Luke vehemently disagrees.

Han knows logically that he cannot not squish the galaxy’s last hope like a bug. That would be unwise. There is, however, zero question of if he deserves it.

Luke is almost better at being a little shit than he is at being a Jedi.

“Princess!” Han leans against the wall. The Falcon’s internals hum behind it. Leia looks up at him blankly. 

“Pest.” She takes a bite of a sandwich. “What do you want?”

Nothing. Not a thing. He just loves the irritated curve of her eyebrow, the sharpness of her gaze, the curl of her lips--

“I’d love it if you’d stop taking what’s not yours.” He nods towards the sandwich. Leia regards it, then makes deep eye contact on her next bite. Han chuckles in something like disbelief, but he knows her. Knows how she likes to provoke. 

“Nice boys share their food.” She takes another bite.

“Well, I ain’t nice. Keep your thieving little hands to yourself.” Han considers wrapping up the sandwich, just to be petty, but he knows she hardly takes interest in his things unless she needs something. He could find something else to eat. 

“Or else what?” She plays with the crust of the bread. Eye contact. God, he loves this game of theirs. She leaves him breathless too often for his liking, though. As he flounders for a comeback, he hears a high-pitched noise from the other side of the room. 

Luke. Great. 

“What are you wearing?” Luke laughs incredulously. Han looks down at himself. He’d put on a fur vest today instead of his usual cargo one. It was something he’d snatched off some mook that’d tried to set him up with a dishonest deal. It’s old and it smells a little funny, but he likes it. It’s his now. 

“Wh—it’s a vest. It’s cold.” Han frowns. 

“You look like Chewie shed on you.” Luke leans his hip against the doorway as he settles in to mock. There’s a Wookiee outcry of indignation from the cockpit that goes unanswered.

“It’s a fashion statement.” Han adjusts his posture, gives them a new angle. Luke snorts. Han scowls.

“What exactly are you stating?” Leia rests her chin in her hands. She’s got a crumb on her cheek. He does not think about brushing it away. 

“You’re both terrible.” Han stomps off to change. 

“Right back atcha!” Leia calls after him. Her laughter is sweet, even at his expense. 

….

Run-ins with Empire patrols always put Han on a fine edge--he’s a well-oiled machine with Chewie at his back, but recent additions to the Falcon have proven…distracting. As he slams them into a hyperspace jump, the twins’ noise somehow drowns out the noise of the engine. Leia’s complaining that he took too many risks, Luke’s insisting he took too little, and Han’s half tempted to spin send the Falcon into a barrel roll just to hear a different sound.

Chewie won’t let him. The honorable bastard.

The moment they finish the jump, Han swivels out of his chair and goes…well, he’s not sure where he’s going, but he knows he needs to see and hear something besides Luke crunching angrily on crackers. 

Leia follows on Han’s heels, Luke follows on hers, and Han considers just ejecting himself from the airlock and being done with it. 

“If you want to die, be my guest, but don’t put us at risk for your ego.” Leia smacks his chest. Han can’t tell if he’s imagining the lingering touch of her fingers. 

“No, you’d miss me too much.” He fires back, pulling out of her grasp. He takes long strides, taking a petty sort of joy in hearing significantly shorter legs scramble after him. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Leia snarls, snatching the back of his vest. He whirls around. 

“Yes, you would, because things are boring without me. You like having me around.” He leans into her space. She stands her ground. 

“The fate of the galaxy is boring?” She conveniently ignores that last part. Han doesn’t miss it. 

“It is without me. Face it, princess. You’re attached.” He puts his hands on his hips. Leia’s face turns an interesting color.

“Ha! See? Attached!” Han points triumphantly. Leia smacks his hand away. 

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t need to. The truth’s all over your face.” He circles that pointer finger in her face. She smacks it hard enough to bruise this time. 

“The truth that I can’t stand you, more like. You’re arrogant, reckless, irresponsible—“

“And exactly your type.” Han grins. “You like having me around. Meanwhile, I’m cool, casual, and unattached.” Han clicks his tongue. Leia attempts to burn a hole through his forehead with her gaze. He worries for a moment that she might. 

“Really?” Luke crunches loudly. “I heard you telling Chewie that you like having us around. That you wouldn’t know what you’d do without us. Didn’t sound very cool and casual.” 

“I was drunk.” Han’s face burns. Leia snorts. Han scowls. 

“Drunk mind, sober thoughts.” Luke grins teasingly, waving a chip in his face. Han tries to snatch the bag, but Luke twirls effortlessly out of the way. Damn Jedi. 

“Sounds like you’re attached, laser brain.” Leia circles her finger in his face, and Han wonders if turning himself in to the Empire might be better for his ego.

…

Han’s not sure when his game with Leia stopped being a game and started being this, but he’s not complaining. He’s made out in worse storage rooms than the ones on the Falcon. They’d started with fetching a rations restock, devolved into bickering, and, well…their arguments usually end in violence or the threat of it, so Leia trying to climb him like a tree is a much-welcomed departure from form.

Normally Han’s great at keeping his emotions in a cold, dark little box where he never has to deal with them, but Leia looked so pretty yelling at him that he just…had to kiss her. He knew at that moment he’d die if he didn’t. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed and he hopes it won’t be the last, but each touch with Leia is like drifting closer to the beautiful terror of the sun. The best part, the overwhelming part, is that she wants him too. 

All of that would’ve been well and good, great even, if Luke hadn’t been standing in the doorway. 

Luke and Leia have some kind of stare-off that Han suspects involves their twinness--there’s lots of flustered, offended noises without words being uttered. Luke raises his eyebrow in a way that really seems to get to Leia, because she splutters, which she expressly does not do. 

“Don’t you start! I tolerate him!” She glares at Luke, her cheeks turning red. 

“Aww.” Han smirks. She elbows him in the ribs.

“With your mouth?” Luke’s near hysterical. 

“Among other things.” Han smirks wider. Luke’s face twists in sheer disgust. 

“Shut up,” Leia hisses, blushing and hitting him harder. He grins.

Luke levels a finger at Han, a habit he picked up from him in the first place, and then stalks off. 

“Chances he knifes me in my sleep?” 

“Lower than me doing it myself.” Leia swats his arm once more for good measure, but she’s still glowing, and Han thinks he might want to see that smile of hers for the rest of his life.

“I’ll take those odds.” 

The difference between Luke and his sister, in Han’s opinion, is that Luke’s noise goes inwards. Leia will scream at Han until she’s red in the face and then she’ll miraculously find more air. Luke gets quiet and vengeful, which is why Han starts to suspect foul play the third time he trips over thin air. 

Han really wants to fight back, but every time he opens his mouth, Leia’s lurking around some dark corner. 

On hour three of Luke’s temper tantrum, Han’s eye begins to twitch. He’s probably bruised every inch of his shins by now, he’s tired, and he thinks if he can close his eyes for an hour he might remember how to function. Just a sweet, Skywalkerless hour. 

Han drags his hand over his face as he walks off to his cabin. He finds Luke standing in the hall like an omen. He doesn’t move when Han approaches. The little furrow in his brow is probably meant to be intimidating, and maybe one day it will be, but Han can’t bring himself to care. 

The desire to lay down overcomes his rational thought, and he does to Luke what he often does to Leia: jams his hands under Luke’s arms and lifts him out of the way.

Except, unlike Leia, Luke doesn’t try to kick him. He lets out a giggle at a pitch Han didn’t know he was capable of. 

Han pauses, raising an eyebrow at the rapidly-reddening Jedi in his arms. He twitches his fingers. Luke chokes out a surprised laugh. 

Han’s suddenly not tired anymore. Funny, that. 

“Han, don’t you dare, c’mon--”

Han sets Luke down but doesn’t release him--he viciously wiggles his fingers where they’re trapped under Luke’s arms. He goes down like a sack of droid components, filling the Falcon with bright, bouncy laughter it so desperately needs. 

“You get a minute for every bruise, and my shins are looking mighty purple.” Han whistles lowly, pressing into the gaps between Luke’s ribs. Luke lets out a giggly hiccup and kicks his legs. 

“That’s not f-fair!” Luke clutches Han’s arms desperately. Han twitches his fingers and he curls up, shaking his head. Han distantly wonders when Luke last laughed like this. If he ever has. 

“Yeah? Tell me about it. Pick on someone your own size and maybe life will be fairer.” Han tries to keep his stare blank, but his mouth quirks up at the corners. Luke lets out an indignant gasp, but he quickly tumbles right back down into laughter.

“Let go,” Luke growls, his whole face scrunching around his smile. 

“Kid, I can’t let you go if you’ve got my hands.” Han gives a dramatic tug. He stops, raising his eyebrow expectantly. Luke pouts--pouts!--at him and lifts his arms at glacial pace. Han pulls away…

…and goes right for Luke’s exposed stomach. His shout of betrayal mixes beautifully with his laughter.

“Rookie mistake,” Leia tuts, snickering at Luke’s misfortune. Han jumps at her appearance--man, he should put a bell on these two--and Luke takes that as a signal to start wriggling away. Han reels him back in with a hearty laugh.

“Leia, fetch your--” Han cuts Luke off with a squeeze to the side before he can say anything embarrassing. 

“You gonna help, Your Worship? Or are you above getting your hands dirty?” Han casts a glance at Leia. 

“Never.” Leia smirks, kneeling beside Luke. They stare at each other for a long, tense while. Leia’s gaze drifts over him the same way she sifts through a plan for holes, until she stops at his knees. 

Luke’s eyes widen. Leia grins.

She latches on like a viper and Luke squeals, drumming his feet on the ground. He throws his head back and cackles himself into silence, flopping around uselessly. 

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Han chuckles, a little nervous.

“You’re notoriously bad at it,” she smirks. Han swears he feels the ghost of her fingers on his own legs. He shudders.

Luke’s surrender is less of a cry and more of a wheeze, but they let him go quickly all the same. He tosses his arm over his glowing face with a great, heaving sigh.

“You alright over there?” Han chuckles, nudging Luke’s boot. He lifts his arm to glare.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Han pats his ankle. Luke kicks him. Han squeezes his knee and he immediately blurts out a tired, giggly apology. 

“Stop being a little shit and trying to trip me up. It’s not gonna work. Too cool for that.” Han pats Luke’s stomach. 

Warm hands wrap around his waist and he leans back, scaring himself with how easily he fits into Leia’s arms. She hooks her chin over his shoulder.

“Are you ready?” She murmurs, brushing her fingers over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ready for what?” His hand finds hers. He’s more than ready, if he’s reading this right. She’s rarely like this beyond closed doors, and it sends a thrill through him. Her lips brushing his ear drives him just a little crazy. He starts to stand, but she pulls him back down. 

“To be tripped up.” She smirks. He feels it. 

“Wh—“ 

Leia’s fingers dig in with deadly accuracy. Han crumples and his bravado goes with him. Loud, hearty laughter bursts from him as he slides to the floor, boneless in her arms.

“Aw, look at you cool guy.” Luke sidles up next to him with a shit eating grin. He tickles mockingly under Han’s chin and he, mortifyingly, giggles. Luke chases the sound, having way too much fun for Han’s liking. 

Han growls and tries to kick him. Leia’s fingers find his hips—cruel and unusual—and he’s toast. He resigns himself to die in her lap, which isn’t the overall worst way to go, and makes a mental note to write Luke out of his will. 

As long as Chewie thinks he’s cool, he supposes it’s still a net win. 

LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻✨✨

The community cycles through the same damn drama every single time. Stop rehashing old beef, start something new! Fight about stuff that's interesting like which penguin is the cutest! No one wants to hear about the kink and non-kink community fighting anymore :/

YOOOO IT CAME!! New cosplay UNLOCKED!!

Can you guess what I’m going as for Halloween? Hehe (*^^*) 🕷️❤️🖤

You know what? Im sick of this shit.

Tickling is NOT a kink/fetish for everyone. Stop saying it is.

Here, for everyone who really needs proof.

Reblog if tickling is NOT a kink for you.

AHHH REQUESTS!! would it be okay to request switch!rgken and switch!sliu ken in a beach off/tickle fight?? have an awesome day🙏🙏 -⭐️

Beach-Off, With a Twist

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Yaaaay first Barbie fic!! I’ve been wanting to write for these two for so long jajsjas 😭 Okay so I honestly had no idea how I was going to differentiate between two characters with the same name, so I’ve colour coded their names, pronouns and dialogue! :) If I refer to Ryan Gosling’s Ken the text is Pink and Italic, and if I refer to Simu Liu’s Ken, it’s Bold and Blue! :D If this doesn’t really help, plz let me know so I can try and improve it 😔 Hope you guys enjoy! 🫶🏻

“Once again, seems like you couldn’t handle all this beach, Ken.”

Great. How many times did Ken have to hurt himself when shredding waves at the beach? Surprisingly, he wasn’t doing it in front of Barbie this time, as she was out shopping. But of course he was practicing to shred waves so he could impress her when she was here.

He really had to stop trying by running right at the waves. He did unfortunately bounce off, but luckily the ambulance didn’t have to get involved this time. But of course, Ken had to taunt him once he was up and okay.

“Pfft, like you could shred waves any better, Ken.” Ken stated, dusting himself off and picking up his surfboard.

“Well, I did. Remember last week? Barbie was very impressed.” The cockier Ken mentioned, smiling smugly. Ken’s facial expression was becoming irate, and he wasn’t trying to hide it either.

“Well, at least I’m the one with the ‘beach’ job.” Ken gloated, doing some kind of proud heroic pose.

“At least I can shred waves. Maybe I should have the beach job.” Ken was speaking jokingly, but that didn’t make Ken any less offended. He glared daggers through his counterpart. Darn it, if Barbie wasn’t here he could-

…Wait. Barbie wasn’t here. She wasn’t here to stop the only thing that Ken knew he could do to take down his equivalent.

“That’s it.” He growled, tossing his surfboard to the side, all the other Barbies and Kens who were previously relaxing on their deckchairs watching as it slid across the inanimate sea.

“Ken, I’ve had just about enough of the 14 seconds I’ve spent around you today.”

“…Let’s beach off.”

Ken kept smiling in response, chuckling and shaking his head as he too, chucked his board off to the side. The two friendly rivals began slowly approaching each other as they spoke.

“I’d gladly beach off with you, Ken.”

“That’s right, Ken. And I would’ve done it last time if I wasn’t so severely injured.”

“No, you would’ve done it if Barbie wasn’t there.”

“Same thing!”

The two were almost nose-to-nose before Ken broke the brief silence.

“Let’s do this.”

——————————

Two crowds had gathered on two sides of the beach, the left side surrounding Ken, and the right surrounding Ken. As Ken was stretching and psyching himself up, someone approached him. Allan.

“You should be careful, Ken. Author Barbie told me Ken said he’s got a ‘special new move’ that he plans on using.” Allan whispered cautiously to his friend. However, all he got in response was a hand in front of his face.

“It’s alright, Allan. You’re talking to the beach-off master. I’ve got this.” Ken boasted before strutting forward. Allan sighed, walking back a few steps to join the crowd.

“At least consider my warning??”

“No need to, buddy!”

Allan sighed again before placing his hands on his hips, muttering to himself.

“Why do I even try?”

As Ken approached his opponent, he puffed out his chest in an attempt to look intimidating.

“You ready, Ken?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Ken.”

“You’re in for a (Barbie)land of pain!”

In response to Ken’s threat, Ken just playfully grinned in response. Huh. Ken usually responded with a similar quip regarding pain.

But no, nothing.

Ken did get a small rise of suspicion, but brushed it off as another Ken got ready to blow his whistle.

“Alright, Kens. Ready to begin?”

The two contenders prepared to charge, waiting for the noise that would start the battle. It wasn’t long before the screech of the whistle was heard, indicating the start of the fight.

Ken let out a war cry as he dashed towards his challenger. However, Ken swerved before he had a chance to catch him. Before Ken knew it, he had been tackled over, being pinned on his back as his waist was straddled. Ken’s side of the beach started to cheer, while the other side started to let out anxious cries of encouragement. Ken made an attempt to slide out from under Ken, but before he could, he felt two hands latch onto either side of his torso. Ken braced himself, but wasn’t expecting what happened next.

Ken felt his opposer’s fingers playfully scribbling up and down his sides, making him burst into loud giggles before he could stop himself.

“KeheHEN?! W-What are you dohohoing?!”

“It’s my new technique, Ken! What do you think? Pretty effective, right?” Ken chirped, that playful smile refusing to detach from his face. It really wasn’t helping that Ken hardly ever wore a shirt under his always unbuttoned ones, today being one of those days, meaning Ken had easy access to his bare skin.

Both crowds were surprised by the sudden change to a playful rather than the expected roughhousing, but continued cheering and clapping nonetheless.

“Kehehen, this is cheheHEATING-!” Ken’s giggles had begun to pick up pace as Ken’s hands made their way to his ribs.

“It’s not! No one ever said that beaching off always had to be about pain, right everyone?”

The left side of the beach cheered louder in response to Ken’s question. Ken made an attempt to push the evil hands away from his body, but Ken had effortlessly grabbed both of his hands and pinned them under his knees.

How was Ken so easily weakened by this?? He made his best attempt at holding back his laughter as Ken switched from his ribs to his hips, but it was no use as his laughter came out as a wheeze instead.

“THI- *wheeze* Th-This is dirTY PLAHYHY!” Ken protested, making repeated failed attempts to pull his hands free to protect his vulnerable hips that were currently being drilled into. Ken chuckled as he didn’t ease up his torment at all.

“Heh. Ready to tap out, Ken? I’m gonna find your weak spot at some point.”

The Ken that was in the process of being tormented stubbornly shook his head, not wanting to lose his title of the ‘Beach-Off Master’ (not that he won every time anyway). The current winner paused his tickles for a moment, trying to think of where Ken could be most sensitive. As Ken caught his breath, Ken realised it was right in front of him. The most exposed part on his body. His stomach. Ken smirked cheekily as he began spidering all over his abdomen. The pinned Ken let out a high-pitched squeal in response to the unbearably tingly feeling taking over his belly, more wheezing cutting off his laughter.

“K-KE *wheeze* HEHEN! NAHA *wheeze* -THEHEHERE!” His face was completely flushed, not just because of the tickles but also because of the occasional tease being called out by a member of the crowd.

“Hehe sounds like a tehea kettle!”

“I never thought Ken was this ticklish!”

“Look at his face! It’s completely red!”

Eventually Ken couldn’t take it anymore, letting out a breathy “Pleheheeease!”. Ken had a victorious sneer on his face as he got up, ceasing his attack and allowing Ken to catch his breath. The right side of the beach started protesting and groaning in defeat, some people trying to get Ken back on his feet.

“Come on, Ken!”

“You can’t let him get away with that!”

“Show him who’s the real beach master around here!”

The words of motivation helped Ken take a small breath before nodding towards his crowd with a confident smile, which was underestimated by some of the crowd, as that blush hadn’t faded from his face yet. He began sneakily shuffling over to Ken, who had his back turned while he was standing triumphantly, waving and boasting to his hyper crowd. Unfortunately, not enough pointing and warnings could’ve alerted Ken in time as he felt someone grab his ankle and yank, making him fall and land atop the plastic sand on his back. The crowd let out a collective wince, but luckily he was nowhere near as harmed as Ken had been after his previous unsuccessful wave shredding attempt. Ken took his opportunity to straddle his dazed competitor’s waist and restrain Ken’s wrists above his head.

“Heh. Let’s see how well you can hold out against your own method, shall we?” Ken asked tauntingly. Now it was the right crowd’s turn to start cheering as Ken instantly went for Ken’s stomach, tickling all around it. His frenemy did burst into laughter, but Ken was visibly disappointed when it wasn’t the belly laughter he wanted.

“G-Gohonna have to tryhyhy harder than that, Kehen!” Ken challenged, trying to wind his tormentor up, and it was working. He let out a frustrated huff as he vibrated his clawed hand into Ken’s sides, ribs, and hips, all the spots Ken had gone for before. Ken did get decent bouts of laughter accompanied by a priceless blushy face, but he still wasn’t getting that loud laughter he was looking for. He wasn’t even trying to free his wrists yet! How stoic did this guy have to act!? Ken sighed, trying his ribs again. Still, no luck. However, he noticed something. The higher up he went, the more Ken’s laugh raised in volume, turning a bit more panicked. Ken grinned smugly, knowing he’d hit the jackpot. He continued crawling his hand up until he reached Ken’s exposed armpits, scribbling into the hollows of them.

The reaction was golden.

A squeal had made its way through Ken’s clenched teeth, and he burst into hysterics, his eyes screwed shut in a vain attempt to drive the overpoweringly ticklish feeling down in intensity.

“KEHEHEN! W-WAHAIT, WAHAHAIT!” Ken pleaded, as he was now finally making futile strives to free his wrists from Ken’s grip.

“Aaaand weak spot, acquired.” Ken announced, that grin still on his face.

“Ken?”

Oh no. Ken knew that voice all too well. The two’s heads whipped to where the voice had come from, both the crowds going silent. There was Barbie, stood next to a deckchair by the entrance to the beach. However, instead of frowning like a disappointed mother, she was smiling.

“What’s going on here?” Ken instantly got up, scrambling over to Barbie and throwing his arms around her.

“Oh, Barbie! Thank goodness you’re here! He-“ Ken pointed accusingly to his opponent, who was currently catching his breath. “-has been tormenting me!”

“Really? ‘Cause it seemed like you were tormenting him.” Barbie corrected, still smiling at Ken. Normally she would’ve scolded Ken for beaching off and roughhousing, but she could clearly tell no harm had been done here.

“Yeah, well- he did it first!” Ken protested, clinging onto Barbie like a koala on a tree. Ken had gotten up at this point, chuckling and running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe I did. But you also might’ve been harder to take down if you actually properly fought back.” Ken felt his cheeks warm up as he shook his head defensively.

“Nuh-uh!” He then buried his face into Barbie’s shoulder, Barbie also chuckling as she comfortingly patted his head. She could tell Ken might’ve enjoyed the beach off a little bit, embarrassed as he was to admit to it.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here and let this cool down.” Barbie assured, walking with Ken still holding onto her. The crowds started to disperse as Ken headed off with his crowd, some checking on him and others impressed by his strong performance.

“This isn’t over, Ken!”

“You’re right! I didn’t even tap out!”

“Well, you were totally about to!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“We’re gonna finish this another time, you know!”

“That’s right!” Ken then turned his head to Barbie. “Barbie, will me and Ken be allowed to beach off again?” She thought for a moment, she definitely wasn’t against this new move the two were using against each other.

“Hmmm, as long as you keep it to tickles and don’t hurt each other then yes, it’s absolutely fine.” Ken lit up as he called back to his ‘rival’.

“You hear that, Ken?!”

“Oh, I heard it alright!”

“You are so going down next time!”

“Not if you go down first, Ken! Oh wait, you already did this round!”

Barbie rolled her eyes with a smile as the two bickered. She’d never been a fan of beach offs.

But she was without a doubt getting a front row seat for the next round.