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Right now, there was nothing in Fionna’s world except her slow, easy breathing, taking in the bright, fresh air, and the earthy, sweet scent of the leaves and flowers all around her and Hunter in that secret spot in the park. All over them were flakes of bright, golden light, droplets of brilliant technicolor and bloom, almost like fireflies, from the sun’s rays streaming through the leaves above.
The sunlight looked especially beautiful on Hunter, with its golden spots trickling through their auburn hair, running across the creases of the light fabric of their shirt and the curves of their muscles as they lay on their back, like a painter going over little details with their brush one too many times, itching to capture that je ne sais quoi that drew them to their muse, itching to show that beauty to others in its fullest, itching to get them to see what they see. Their breathing was peaceful, relaxed, the kind that says, “All in a day’s work.” Their chest slowly rose and fell with each breath, like gentle waves rolling and caressing the shore. Fionna could hear quiet moans bleeding into each breath, its sound bright, full, clear, round, like a guitar.
This moment could almost reach out to Fionna with an open hand, saying, “There’s so much going on out there, why don’t you come with me and take a break from it all?” For a pocket-sized universe, her world was usually so large, with the looming risk of being evicted from her apartment, the friends she was constantly scared of letting down, the breakup that felt like suddenly being reincarnated from a sweeter past life, and snapshots of everyone else’s lives that sent the message that they were going on living, that nobody would stick around to make sure she didn’t get left behind.
And of course, all the times she’s let Hunter down. Even after she apologized, and they understood —especially upon becoming fascinated with a certain magical plant girl whose eyes looked a little too much like theirs—, that pang of guilt persists. After all, putting on a bandaid doesn’t immediately heal a paper cut.
But here, resting on a picnic blanket with Hunter under brilliantly-lit leaves and flowers, that was Fionna’s world, nothing else.
Suddenly, Hunter turned their head towards her, and they opened their eyes to look at her. Those big, catlike eyes, alluring and comforting, curious and adoring and warm. “You’re so beautiful, Fionna.”
Fionna’s cheeks glowed pink as those words danced in her mind. There was nothing but certainty and sincerity behind them, like a slow, gentle strum of a major 7th. They always said her name like it was the most pleasing sound, the lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue drawing slopes and loops and waterfall curves to trace each letter. F-I-O-N-N-A.
“Stop…!” she pouted, her smile breaking through despite that protest.
“But I’m serious,” they responded.
“Literally how? And I’m not trying to fish for compliments or anything, I’m actually curious.”
“Your body looks so beautiful under this light; you look like a goddess… your smile is so adorable, and not just that, you’re radiant, bold, determined, strong…”
That warm pink glow continued to spill across her face as she shyly giggled, “Okay, I kinda was fishing for compliments.”
“Fionna,” Hunter whispered steadily, as if to carefully carry those heavy words, “Brillas como el sol.”
Fuck, Fionna thought, her heart skipping a beat as she grinned like an idiot, now they’ve done it, complimenting me in Spanish. It’s so over for me. ‘You shine like the sun.’ Glob…
“But that’s literally you, though,” she replied, giggles making her words spill into each other.
She sat back up, stretching all of that lying down out of her body, and reached for another thing of pita bread to dip in hummus. It’s quite flavorful and smooth for grocery-store hummus! “This is good as hell,” she mumbled mid-bite. Should I be talking with my mouth full on a date?
“Is it? I should give it a try,” Hunter said curiously, their arm reaching out to pick up a thing of pita bread, nerve-wrackingly close to Fionna. She watched intently as they tried the hummus, her legs shifting around as she reeled with anticipation from how close they were to touching her. Each touch felt like something to steal when the moment was right, something she dared not ask for, for each word in that request was so heavy with desire and longing that the utterance of each syllable could very well shake the earth.
“You’re right,” they said, their voice lifting, “This is really good! Where’d you get it?”
“I mean, the grocery store,” she replied, playing up her aloofness, “I thought hummus and pita would be pretty good finger food.”
“You have great taste, Fionna,” Hunter sighed warmly.
A moment of opportunity pierced her like an arrow, and she stared into their eyes, a mad twinkle in hers, as a playful rush pulled on the corners of her lips. “I mean, I’m on a date with you, so of course I do, big guy,” she said, suavely.
Hunter shied away, blushing as they broke into a soft, flattered smile. Glob, that cute smile. Where they were shy and humble at times, and bold and charming in others, that smile contained both sides of him, a dialectic of everything that made them so warm, inviting, easygoing yet devoted.
“Aw, Fionna, that’s–”
Then, something seemed to catch on their words as they peered at Fionna’s stomach. “Hang on, there’s a leaf on your…”
Suddenly, they reached over to Fionna to brush the leaf away. And that really does it. Their fingers unexpectedly grazing against her soft skin sharply tugged on her heart, but also, it sent a little shot of lightning rippling through her nerve endings. She gasped sharply, a laugh faintly bleeding through, as she scooched away from their touch.
“You alright?” Hunter asked, concerned, as their hand cautiously stopped.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” Fionna replied through a shy smile.
Then, something seemed to shine across Hunter’s eyes, a Eureka moment, and their head sloooowly dipped as they gazed at her, their eyes widening curiously, probingly, wickedly.
“Are you ticklish, Fionna?” they whispered.
That question seemed to pierce right through her, making her blush bright red as her breathing became heavier, a flurry picking up in her chest. Yes, she was very ticklish. To the point where even thinking about being tickled would turn into sparks rippling across her skin, making her blush like a dork. Everyone knew she was ticklish. But what they didn’t know, what she made sure they wouldn’t know, is that with some people, she didn’t want them to stop.
Her eyes peered away from them as she continued to grin, curling up in embarrassment. Then, she nodded.
And with that nod, a silent stillness filled the world around them, one that felt louder and more imposing than the easygoing, inviting quiet that animated the leaves before. Shit, Fionna’s thoughts seemed to race, did they find out? Are they weirded out by me? Do they think it’s funny? Do they think it’s stupid? What if they suddenly just start tickling the shit out of me? I don’t know if I’m prepared for that.
“May I?”
Fionna looked back at Hunter to find them gazing at her softly, their widening eyes carrying all the sentiment of that whispered question. They weren’t sure how to tell Fionna this, but that was the most exciting thing they'd discovered all day, and that glint in their eyes wasn’t one of mischief, or of having something on her; it was one of curiosity, an itch to learn more about her, to play, to tease, to find out all the ways she could react to their touch. Their smile was gentle and pleading, and their hand hovered near her in wait for her permission, eager to explore and play with her nerve endings, the way they’d be eager to interact with some new flora, or a musician’s hands would be eager to feel out a new instrument.
Fionna was almost paralyzed by that thrilling gust in her chest, that magenta heat spilling across her skin. She wanted this, and here was her chance to have it. “Yeah,” she stammered.
Hunter’s smile widened at her response as they scooched closer to her, and soon enough, they started to trace up and down her stomach, fingers carefully and lightly rubbing and scritching, teasing out her nerves, seemingly wrapping them around their fingers like the tendrils of a plant. Fionna started to writhe around a little, whispered giggles spilling into her heavy sighs as they etched little golden sparks into her.
“Let me know if it gets too much, alright?” they said, and she nodded.
They started to tickle a little faster, fingers scribbling more intently as their hand traveled towards Fionna’s side, rousing a deep, heavy tension and suspense each time it creeped its way up, while their other hand started to trace all over the other side of her stomach. More laughter spilled out of her as she continued writhing and twitching under their touch. There was something so hot about how such strong hands can also be so gentle and careful, but also about how something so gentle could also be so toying and thrilling.
Hunter seemed to become a little more possessed with each laugh they pulled out of Fionna. They wanted to tease, to stroke, to reach up and over and behind as they plucked more tickles from her skin. They wanted to play on that loudly thrumming tension, like pulling a rubber band, as their fingers creeped more and more towards the really sensitive parts of her body. They wanted to play with her, so much so that it almost made them dizzy.
Fionna picked up on it too. Each time she gasped, laughed, and twitched, she would see their eyes immediately widen, all at once curious, observant, and adoring, like writing down notes in their mind. And whenever their fingers would trail up her sides, there wouldn’t just be sharp, little sparks; there’d be something deeper, darker, and richer that made her whimper and moan in anticipation of something that they would shy away from at the very last second. At least, for now. They know exactly what they’re doing, she thought, or so she would, if she could think.
“Is it okay if I get a little closer to you?” Hunter asked, sighing a little heavier.
Fionna nodded for yes, a thrilling, heart-racing yes.
They scooched even closer, so close she could almost feel their sturdy, warm body against hers. “And… is it okay if I hold you?” they asked, barely holding back how eager they were to touch her more, a wordless “Please?” in the lift in their voice.
She nodded again, and surely, they scooched closer still, and pulled her into him. Her body pressed against theirs, her body being held against theirs, made her run red hot. She felt their warm breath against her skin, quiet and light, almost held in careful suspense and focus, as she wrapped her arms around them in turn. Feeling their warmth, their chest pressing against hers with each inhale, their golden hums through each exhale like an Aeolian harp being played by the wind, it was the kind of thing that should soothe her flame, but only seemed to fan it, making it ring loudly throughout her skin.
Hunter’s fingers trailed towards her lower back, skittering against her soft skin so gently it was at once loving and possessing, making her tremble and squirm in their arms. It was as if they somehow picked up on how sensitive she was getting, how much she anticipated him. The way those fingers skated along her back, the way they would twitch and flutter against her skin, it was like they understood how one little brush against the skin could rouse so much out of her, and a poke or a twitch could draw out something else. It was the rapture, love, and possibility in teasing, probing, interacting, weaving little streaks of lightning into her skin. It was like how plucking the different strings of a guitar makes a different sound ring from each one. There was a curiosity to it all.
“I really like your laugh, Fionna,” they cooed, fingers skittering a little faster to pull out another laugh, louder and clearer, as if to present it before the two of them and say, “Here it is, the laugh I like so much.”
Then, their hands moved up to her upper back, fingers splaying and curling against the back of her arms and the taut skin of her shoulders, occasionally slipping into the valley where her spine was and tracing up and down its length. And that felt… different. This time, it felt like a glittering mass of dazzling twinkles that trilled like mad. Less ticklish, and more tingly. Fionna shivered whenever they tickled her like that, a heavy shiver, and each gasp of hers would get heavier, sometimes blooming into a breathy moan, like they were drawing them up her body and out of her each time their fingers climbed back up her spine. She was reveling in how sensitive it all was, in the kind of touch that was just torturous enough to feel wonderful.
“You really are ticklish,” Hunter whispered, an adoring purr pulling on their words, a voice so lovingly probing it could very well poke at her just as much as their fingers could, “And you like it, don't you Fionna?”
Fionna couldn’t help but nod, whimpering pathetically at the way they could so easily make her go bright red, the way they could just wrap her heartstrings around their fingers.
“Mhm,” Hunter hummed observantly, “Seems like the results support my hypothesis.”
They kept on scritching her lower back with one hand, stealing a tickle from her sides from time to time almost to reassure them that they hadn't forgotten about them. Their other hand skipped across her upper back, fingers playing quick little trills against her skin, which left her in a squirming, giggly, whimpering mess. In the midst of her shivery spell, she would sometimes look for their forest-green eyes again, and surely enough, they were still wide with intrigue. Whenever Hunter found a spot that was really sensitive, or a spot Fionna really liked (usually, it was both), their fingers teased the spot a little more, as if there were a lot of nerve endings for them to untangle, a lot of tickle to draw up through her skin. As if to wordlessly tell her that they were noticing what really has an effect on her, that they loved learning each new way to make her tick.
“Fionna,” they started to ask, smiling, “Did you know tickling plants helps them get stronger?” They had that casual, slightly raspy voice as they asked that, as if they weren't tickling her to the point where she couldn’t hold a conversation.
“Noooo,” was all she managed to get out.
Hunter’s hands slowed down, offering Fionna some respite and breathing room. “It’s called thigmomorphogenesis,” they continued, “Basically, plants have receptors that respond to things like rain, wind, and yes, touch. When those receptors are triggered, the plants grow thicker stems.”
Fionna snickered, grinning like an idiot as she said with that dorky voice, “You’re giving them a bonerrrr…”
Hunter groaned, a smile breaking through in protest. "Dios mío," they huffed.
“Sorry, sorry,” she continued, still giggling, “So you’re doing thingamorphowhatever on me?”
“You could say that,” they hummed.
“You’re such a nerd, Hunter– GYAAH!!!”
Fionna yelped loudly upon feeling vengeful fingers dig madly up her sides, eager to reach her underarms. “Okay, okay, I got the memo!” she laughed, immediately bracing her arms to fight them off, “Don’t call Hunter a nerd, yeesh.”
“Attagirl,” Hunter said with a Cheshire-cat grin as their hands drew away from her underarms. They traveled back up her upper back, inching closer and closer to her neck and weaving through waterfalls of blonde hair as her breath hitched, as she whined, as time seemed to slow down to a halt. And then, there they were.
Their fingers started scritching along the crooks and stroking up and down the nape, and that’s what really did it. She whimpered and giggled and squirmed more than usual, feeling even more at their mercy as she fruitlessly tried to cringe her neck. “Too much?” they asked, briefly slowing down.
Fionna, dizzy and flushed at this point, took a moment to catch her breath. “No, keep going,” she sighed. She meant it; as ticklish as her neck was, the touch also felt warm, something about it so nice it was almost intoxicating.
Hunter understood and continued to tease out the nerve endings along the sides of Fionna’s neck, stroking the nape even more frequently. They seemed to notice her moans get a little needier, and her skin warming up more to their touch, when they teased the back of her neck, so of course, they had to do it more. Their fingers kept on trailing along the nape of her neck, then further up towards her ears, upon which they would lightly pet them and gently rub the lobes, pulling a sharp gasp out of her, and drawing out even needier moans and brighter giggles.
Hunter looked directly at her as she continued to whimper, and when her eyes met theirs, so full of fondness and awe, her face flushed bright red again. It was an adoring gaze, a gaze that reveled in how giddy she was, how much she was enjoying it all.
“You’re so cute, Fionna,” Hunter whispered as they leaned towards her ear, their lips almost brushing against it. There it was again, the way they would seemingly write her name with their voice, tongue resting against the teeth as they finished saying her name. Only this time, her skin was the paper. Fionna buried her face in the crook of their neck, moaning helplessly at the feeling of their whisper hitting her ear, a dazzling, dizzying, almost overstimulating feeling.
“How are you feeling, by the way?” they asked, “Still doing alright?”
Fionna whimpered, a flushed smile still spread across her face, “Kinda getting overstimmy.”
Hunter stopped, the immediacy itself expressing that they understood, and they firmly ran their hands down Fionna’s ears and neck, smoothing away any tickle that lingered in her skin. She slowly started to collect herself and slow her breathing, carrying herself out of that dizzying high, while they simply held her in their arms. She rested against their robust yet soft body, each slow breath of their grounding her a little more as their chest pressed against her.
“Did you also know that there’s a ticklish plant?” Hunter asked softly.
“For real?” Fionna mumbled.
“Yeah,” Hunter sighed, smoothing their hand up and down Fionna’s back, “Mimosa pudica, also known as the sensitive plant. Its leaves fold when you touch them.”
“Oh, Glob,” Fionna hummed, blushing, “Please kiss me?” You seriously can’t hold me while soothing me with facts about plants, and not kiss me, she thought.
Hunter chuckled softly, and planted a kiss against Fionna’s temple. “They’re also called shameplants, though, I don’t see a reason why you should be ashamed.”
“Thank you…” Fionna mumbled, her words almost ineligible as her voice petered out, and she slowly lay back down on her back, pulling Hunter down with her as they laughed and rolled off of her, holding her from the side.
“You know,” they sighed, a warm smile pulling on their lips, “I really liked doing that.”
“You did?” she asked.
“Yeah, I did,” they affirmed, “I really liked getting to know those really sensitive spots. And I really liked seeing all the different ways you’d react. I mean it, by the way, you really are so cute.”
Fionna blushed, rolling her eyes. “Thanks,” she sighed.
“Of course, Fionna,” they sighed in return, “Thanks for letting me tickle you.”
Fionna’s eyes darted away in embarrassment as she smiled softly. “That was so literal, but yeah, totally.”
“I’d like to do it again sometime,” Hunter suggested.
“Me too,” Fionna said.
She felt herself relax further into Hunter’s embrace as she watched the leaves above them gently rustle in the breeze. Her world was normally so big, but here, nestled in their arms in that comforting quiet, that could solely be Fionna’s world for a while, nothing else.