#Ler!soldier

[carnivorous-parasite]

YIPPEEEEE JOYOUS KRIMAHHHHH !!!!!! :3

@ticklystarz IM UR SECRET SANTA JUMPSCARE!!!!! I HOPE U LIKE IT JEHDJDHDJDHJSJS :DDDDDD

(PROMPT WAS LER SOLDIER/LEE SNIPER, CHEER UP TICKLES!!! HOPE I DID OKAY I HAD LOTS OF FUN MAKING IT :3) LUV U POOKUMS /P

[inneedofsupervision]

This Thing about Blankets and Second Chances

Summary: Peter gets sick and looks for help at the tower as Aunt May is out of town. Instead of Mr. Stark, only Sam and Bucky are there, and they nurse him back to health, but for some reason, the kid begins acting out of character.

(Read on Ao3)

(Maybe u can guess which prompt this was supposed to be lmao)

"Stark, your intern is the spawn of Satan. He was difficult being sick, but now that he's better, he's the worst."

Tony's amused laugh echoes through the speaker.

Sam's following words sound almost pleading.

"Why is he being so stubborn, Tony? He had been freakishly nice and agreeable before. What did you put into his head?" If the man thought his words were contradicting, hell, they probably contradicted, but Sam couldn't care less.

He needs Stark to listen.

"Eyes on the screen, Feathers, I don't want to talk to your ear. Yeah, that looks almost better."

The man in question looks calm. Too calm, sitting back in the seat of his jet, the first button of his dress shirt opened. Tony takes a sip out of a cheap Iron Man mug. It must have been a present, or it wouldn't find itself anywhere close to the man.

"I didn't do anything," begins Tony, pointedly ignoring the glare. "We just talked, checking that the kid didn't sneak into the lab unsupervised when he's not on top of his game."

"And why does he act like none of what we say matters after being on the phone with you? A few weeks ago, he wouldn't look Bucky in the eye, and now he doesn't move, doing the whole grumpy teenager act."

"I might be the smartest person in this merry band we call a team, but I cannot even cut open his teenage head to get on why the kid does what he does. Call it one of the mysteries of childhood."

It has to be a conspiracy. There is no other explanation for whatever this is. Sam glares at the smug grin on Stark's face. It was like the man's eyes were mocking him.

"See what I have to deal with all the time? Get a taste of your own."

"How do I get him to stop? I don't care if it's the holidays or not. He cannot sleep the whole day. Bucky was about to throw a water bucket at him after pulling him by his ankle but did nothing, and the brat just shot his webbing at him."

Tony takes another sip of coffee, but it's too late. Sam had seen the poorly hidden twitch of the corner of his mouth as he barely suppressed bark-out-loud laughter. Sam takes a deep breath.

"Stark," he begins. He makes sure to talk slowly, like he would to a four-year-old child and not a self-proclaimed billionaire-genius-whatsoever.

"That kid. He wears his webshooters. To bed."

"Oh, does he?" The man doesn't even pretend to be surprised.

"That means he likely didn't get to sleep at all."

Sam's eyelid twitches.

"What?"

Tony takes a glass of water from the tablet held out to him.

"Thanks, Marcy."

He checks his wristwatch, eyebrow rising before glancing back towards the screen.

"He patrolled until 5:43 am. It's the weekend. Let the kid live a little."

When the kid came in asking for Mr. Stark while hacking up a lung, Sam thought it would end with them calling Happy and getting the sick teen chauffeured to his aunt.

"Aunt May is in Malaysia. For the rest of the month. Could I have some water, please?"

Even Bucky's face twisted as he awkwardly rubbed the teen's back, who mumbled the words between dry heaving in the bathroom. It hadn't been pretty. They got Dr. Cho to check him only to tell them that the freaky spider-metabolism lets the kid speedrun through a mean case of the flu. They had contacted Stark, and the man had been adamant at first to fly back instantly, but Pepper had asked them to give her and Tony a minute. The man later said he could not make it and basically threatened them to take care of his mentee. Sam wonders at what point in life he ended up babysitting an enhanced teenager while his mentor was away on some rich people trip.

"Did you forget the part where I told you he had been in bed and sick for the past few days?"

He wipes a hand over his face.

He's too old for this.

Sam also couldn't understand how Stark, out of all people, refrained from going into helicopter parent mode, being hundreds of miles away from his kid and said kid fighting a cold. He had seen the man freak out over papercuts before.

"Don't be rough on him, Wilson, he's sixteen. The kid just crawled out of the crib and took his first steps. Be a little understanding. You won't get him out of bed treating my penthouse like a military camp for troubled youths."

Be a little understanding.

Sam thought he was trippin' hearing these words from no other than Tony Stark, the most eccentric and selfish person going by the man living in a Tower with his name planted on the side.

"That's because you coddle him too much!"

Tony sniffs slightly.

"Are you suggesting I am not taking your call seriously? Because you would be very much right about it."

"Stark-"

Tony glances over his shoulder, a grin breaking over his face before he turns back towards the screen.

"The missus is calling. I will check in later, having a firm chat with the human incarceration of teen rebellion. Don't worry, I'll set the itty bitty troublemaker straight."

"Tony-"

"Don't worry, we will have a stern talking."

There is a twinkle in the man's eyes.

The screen goes dark.

Sam curses.

_________________________________

"The video of Barnes patting the kid's back until he falls asleep like a toddler? I saved, archived, and showed it to my wife. She loves it. It's very domestic and very unlike Barnes. The perfect blackmail material." Clint lolls on the couch, a hand behind his head, eyes gleaming with delight.

"What do you need help with now? If it's about cough-sirup, just put it in some juice and say the weird taste comes with the congested nose. Works like a charm."

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose.

"He's fine now, Clint. Completely back to health."

The archer draws an eyebrow up.

"What's wrong then?"

"He won't get out of bed."

"He won't get out of bed," repeats the other man, lips quirking in unconcealed amusement.

"It doesn't matter what Bucky and I are saying or doing. He stays in bed and demands to sleep. Stark said he was patrolling, so he's bound to be tired. But he cannot sleep the whole day. If he does, he will be awake all night, and I will not deal with the outcome."

"Did anyone tell you you're a hypocrite?"

Sam ignores the jab and walks back to Bucky, who is behind the stove, a concerningly high staple of pancakes next to him that's still growing. Clint follows, leaning on his arms and watching them from across the counter.

"Let me get this straight. The kid comes in on Thursday being all sick and pitiful, and you two," he points at them to clarify he wasn't talking about another duo at the tower housing superheroes, "took care of him. And the kid had been his awkwardly polite self, trying to play it down to not inconvenience you like the self-deprecating little bug he is?"

A hand sneaks towards the pancakes.

"Exactly."

"And now that you two nursed him back to health, he doesn't do what you tell him to? Acting like a tired teenager, whining about being sleepy, going on about the bed being the most amazing place on earth, and not caring what you want?"

"Ouch!" Clint glares at Bucky, who unapologetically pulls the pancakes out of reach, spatula ready for another hit.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Sometimes I forget you are a father. That's what happened. Any idea how to get him to crawl out of that blanket cocoon?"

The blond straightens up, wiping the grease off his hands with a kitchen towel. Laugh lines are decorating his face.

"No. I have no idea. Good luck, you two."

It caught Bucky's attention, looking up from where he poured another portion of batter into the sizzling pan.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I am sure you two can handle this just fine," answers Clint. He grimaces slightly as his shoulder makes a popping sound while stretching, uttering something about not having enough training before giving the two a small salute.

"See you around. Tell the Spider-Kid I said hi."

"You can tell him yourself," shouts Sam after the blond, who turns around, a big grin on his face.

"I wouldn't want to wake him. He's a growing boy. He needs his "Z's".

Bucky shakes his hand. He's elbowing Sam slightly in the side.

"Let's try talking to him again."

The man pulls the pan off the heat and glances at the clock.

Barton is right. Bucky has become incredibly domestic. Sam observes how the other put the pancakes in the oven to keep them warm. They make their way over to the hallway, determined to end this. It is bad enough that two of their friends got a kick out of it, seeing how they get messed with by a baby-faced teen, leaving them alone to deal with the little devil.

"What about your medicine? Have you taken it?"

Bucky's hands stopped before his knuckles could knock on the door to the teen's room. They hear the shuffling of bedsheets before Peter's voice comes through muted.

"I kinda run out of it?"

"Peter Benjamin Parker, why didn't you say anything?" asks the woman on the other line, sounding exhausted, implying that this must be a topic of many conversations but not without a hint of amusement.

"I honestly forgot, but I haven't been sick in months. I was about to tell Mr. Stark, but with Decathlon and the updates for the suit, it slipped my mind. But I'm completely fine now, I swear!"

"Maybe I should ask Tony if you could stay at the Tower."

A low whining sound emits from behind the door, something they have never heard from the kid before. It was like hearing the personified essence of a protesting teenager. "I can take care of myself, Aunt May. I'm sixteen! I came to the tower when I felt unwell. I even asked for help!"

"And that's the barest minimum of what I expect you to do when you get sick, Peter. Is Tony around? Could you hand him the phone?"

"Sorry, May, he's not here. He's at a conference in France."

There's a short pause from both sides.

"Who took care of you then?"

"Oh right, I haven't told you that. It's just wild! Do you remember Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes?"

"You have mentioned them, yes."

Both men cannot help but grimace at the wary tone. They wonder what the kid has told his aunt about them to cause that reaction. Peter seems unaware of the distaste in his aunt's voice as he cheerily continues chatting away.

"So, I came to the tower feeling kind of under the weather and asked for Mr. Stark, but there were only Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson, who told me Mr. Stark wasn't there. I wanted to call you, but suddenly, I got incredibly queasy, and I ran to the bathroom and lost my lunch. I was so embarrassed getting sick in front of them, but Aunt May. Both of them were super nice about it. Especially Mr. Wilson seemed genuinely worried. They got Dr. Cho to come to the penthouse and look at me. She gave me some medicine against the flu, and it didn't take two days until I was completely better. Oh, and Mr. Barnes even cooked me chicken-and-noddle soup! It was nothing like the soup you make me."

"You know perfectly well that my soup comes out of the can, mister."

"Oops," is all the kid says, the grin carrying over in his voice.

"I'm glad to know Tony has to deal with that side of you too. Everyone should know that my nephew is part-time Spider-Man and part-time gremlin."

The kid honest-to-good cackles, not sounding any bit remorseful.

"But Peter, if those two stop being good to you, promise to let me or Tony know. I feel uncomfortable with you being around someone who had been that indifferent before."

"Don't worry, May. I think both sides needed some time to warm up to each other. I will let one of you know if something happens. I feel way more comfortable around them now, knowing they care, you know? I think it's genuine."

"I'm glad you think so, darling. I wish I could be there for you. Call me if something happens, alright?"

"Will do. Love you."

"Love you too, baby. Let me know when Tony's back."

"Yeah. See you soon, May."

"Take care of yourself. See you, Peter."

There is some shuffling before silence settles behind the closed door. The men share a look before Bucky knocks softly against the wood.

"Come in."

Sam raises an eyebrow. It was like they had never left. The kid is still rolled up tightly in the blanket, only a mob of brown hair peeking out between the gray line sheets.

"Friday, what time is it."

"It's 13:37, Mr. Wilson."

"And at what time do teens usually get up at the weekend?"

"According to the latest statistics, teenagers from 12 to 17 years old get up between 9:00 and 11:00 am."

"See, even the super-computer agrees with us, kid. It's time to get up, so move your butt."

The cocoon shifts slightly. A pair of brown, very awake eyes peek out of the opening, squinting at them.

"Friday is an AI, not a super-computer."

"Okay. Alright. The AI said your usual teen should get up between 9:00 and 11:00, and you have already taken it much further than that."

"Well, I'm not your usual teen," comes the quip, as if the kid had waited for it.

"No, you're not. A little shit is what you're are," presses Sam out, muttering to himself as he runs a hand over his head, wondering why he's even arguing about this.

A sound catches his attention.

Glancing at Bucky, seeing the man raising an eyebrow, he knew the other had heard it too.

A giggle.

Soft and breathy, muffled by pressing his face into the blanket, but it had been there, undeniably.

Now it's official.

The kid's messing with them.

Bucky seems to think the same.

"Hey! What are you doing? Let me down!"

In one swift motion, the blanket roll of a teen is scoped from the bed and thrown over a broad shoulder. Curly strands of hair bounce up and down with every step that the teen gets carried further away from his bed, wriggling and protesting on the way. Sam follows with a smirk, having to hand it to the ex-assassin. With the teen tightly wrapped up, he couldn't do much but fight against being picked up and carried like an angry caterpillar. Bucky got a firm grip around the kid's middle, preventing him from getting his arms out of the makeshift cocoon, which turned into a silky spider trap.

Their destination is the living room, where Bucky drops the living cargo on a couch.

"Friday, lock the kid's room until he ate something and washed up."

"I'm pretty sure it's a criminal offense to lock someone out of their room," protests Peter, who robs forward until he is on height with a pillow. Sam squints his eyes at him when the teen snuggles into the couch, eyes closing again.

"Oh no. We didn't bring you here for you to pass out on the couch. Get up, kid."

"Can't hear you am sleeping," mumbled the teen and dared to let out a giant yawn before wriggling, turning his back towards the stunned adults.

The nerves of that kid.

"That's it. I'm calling Tony. You see what you can do."

Sam leaves the room, ready to give the billionaire a piece of his mind, leaving Bucky alone with their troublemaker.

Peter listens, waiting for what the other man would do now. He can hear Bucky's calm heartbeat, his body tensing slightly when steps approach.

"You know," begins the older man, surprising Peter by lifting the blanket alongside his legs to sit down and let his limps fall on his lap."back then, when Steve was younger, he had been a handful. We have lived close to each other. When one of our parents was away, we'd sleep over at the other's house. Then I learned that my best friend could be the grumpiest little punk being tired. And getting sick quickly, he'd been tired often. The surprise when I came back, and suddenly the skinny kid who asked to pick a fight is now getting on everyone's nerves by getting up at 5:00 am and asking people if they wanna 'round the park with him."

"What did you do then?"

"When that punk didn't want to get up?"

"Yeah."

Bucky smirks at the curiosity in the teen's voice.

"I taught him a lesson."

Peter's eyes shoot wide open as something heavy gets thrown over the blanket cocoon, successfully pinning his legs.

"He would hold on to his blanket, refusing to let it go. But there are ways to make him crawl out of that hideout."

While speaking, Bucky shoves a hand into the opening of the blanket roll. His arm vanishes halfway until he finds what he's searching for and begins to pull.

"No!"

The man smirked as he pulled at the teen's ankle until a pair of pale feet stuck out of the cocoon, legs wriggling in an attempt to shuffle back into the safety of the blanket. By pulling at the teen's legs and the latter being too stubborn to let go of the blanket, Peter got pulled into the depth of the blanket-cocoon, the only visible part of the teen his kicking limps.

"No? I thought you were curious?" teases Bucky as he fights to get the kicking feet into a headlock.

"I didn't ask for a demonstration!" comes the muffled protest, followed by a squeak when one of Bucky's fingers accidentally runs over his sole.

"Should have specified what you wanted then," replies the older, glancing down at the successfully caught feet in his grip. Thanks to the unfavorable position of Peter laying on his stomach, having wrapped the blanket tighter than ever around himself during his wriggling, and Bucky throwing one leg over the teen, he has a remarkably secure hold of his legs. Despite his head deep inside the blanket, Bucky's words are loud and clear, sparking a sense of nervousness inside him. Even though his spidey sense doesn't act out, Peter can feel something nearing his vulnerable feet.

"You know what Steve still can't stand?"

Instead of an answer, a high-pitched, muffled screech ejects from within the blanket, followed by frantic wriggling and choked laughter as Bucky begins to worm a finger between the kid's toes, feather-lightly scratching at the skin. A grin forms on the man's face at the very familiar reaction. There hadn't been a second of the day where Peter regretted burying himself in his blanket. Surrounded by the cozy warmth and the familiar scent of fabric softener, there wasn't a place he'd rather be. Not even once, did Peter imagine that his favorite blanket would become his downfall. His wonderful, beloved blanket has revealed itself to be a wicked spider-trap. It's almost scary how a blanket, physics, and one super soldier are enough to leave him flopping around helplessly on the couch like a fish out of water. Under other circumstances, he'd easily tear a way out of the textile, but with his arms pressed close against his body and the blanket tightly wrapped around him like an overgrown Boa Constrictor, getting out was surprisingly though. Oh, and, there was also Bucky, who had a leg thrown over him, effectively pinning him against the couch, but Peter wouldn't have been able to concentrate on getting out anyway, even if he wanted to.

"I've gohohot ihihihit, I-Ihihi've gohoht ihit! Youhu cahan stahahap, okahahay? Pleahase, Buhuhucky!"

He's growing crazy.

Around him is nothing but sheer darkness. He's blind, swallowed, and betrayed by his blanket and at the mercy of whatever Bucky has in stock for him. Peter's toes are curling at the attempt to fend off the fingers, but they are giving chase. When he shakes them off, they merely switch feet to provide the other toes with the same treatment. It's alarming how Bucky knows how to turn him into a pile of squirming limbs, unable to contain his laughter.

"I would say this is even more effective on you than Steve back in the day," comments Bucky with a grin as he lets a single finger glide over Peter's sole. The whole blanket cocoon jumps at the action.

Bucky's grin rivals a Cheshire cat.

"That was something. Might be more sensitive than your toes, huh?"

"NO! It's nohot! Yohuhu're mistahaking, seriously."

"Do I? Your reaction tells me otherwise." As if to underline his words, Bucky strokes his fingers again, slowly and teasingly, down the soles of his feet.

"Stohop it! That's nohohot fuhunny!"

"I'm entertained greatly. But if you're not having fun, we've gotta do something about it."

"Nohohoh, please dohohon't!"

Even Peter knew it would be hard to take him seriously with the sheer quantity of giggles pouring out of him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Bucky looks up, his arms never ceasing their hold around Peter's ankles.

"Though I'd try some reliable methods from back in the days. Till now, it looks promising."

Durning Bucky's answer, Sam glances at the squirming heap of blankets. The head of the kid had vanished. The only part indicating he was still there was the madly kicking legs in his friend's grasp.

"Is that so," he asks, slightly skeptical.

As an answer to his question, a panicked squeal followed by even more panicked struggling echoes through the room as Bucky, without warning, attacks one foot with five wriggling fingers.

Sam's mood improves all of a sudden after being witness to Bucky's little demonstration. Having Stark laughing at him again and telling him that he should just let the teen do what he wants, Sam had been more than done with this. But with the new knowledge and the ability to take some well-deserved renege, Sam's bad temper is history.

"Let me try."

His lip twitched upwards as his words caused the teen below him to try to wriggle out of the blanket with new-found vigor.

"You've got to be pretty ticklish if you're that afraid of what's to come," observes the man, sharing a grin with Bucky.

"He's worse than Steve."

"Am not!" comes the sulky answer as fast as a bullet.

"That so?" teases Sam with a smug grin while sitting down.

"Seeing your reaction, I'm not convinced."

The cocoon stops wriggling for a moment.

"Maybe it's time to get checked by an optician."

Bucky barks out a laugh, earning a glare from his friend.

"I hope you have a tight hold on the little runt," growls Sam, and before Bucky can answer, he dishes out a relentless tickle attack on the teen's helpless feet.

Maybe he shouldn't have provoked Sam.

That's the only thing Peter can think about, apart from one all-consuming thought.

It tickles.

Oh god, how bad it tickles.

"Visit an optician, my ass. What do you call this Buck? Does that look like not ticklish to you?"

Sam found out quickly that light touches got the best reactions. With feather-light touches and

a mean precision, he strokes the tips of his fingers, in quick succession, over the soft skin. Even if they couldn't see his face, the sounds from within the blanket were enough to tell them that Sam works very effectively.

"You could almost think he lied to us," states Bucky dryly, but not without a grin.

"Am nohohohoht lyhihihing!"

"Right. What you're doing doesn't count as lying. You're in denial. Not sure if I know what's worse."

"What doho youhu knohohohow anywahahay?"

"I know you're not in a position to talk big."

Peter had anticipated another attack on his feet. Honestly, he had counted on a lot of things. Getting pulled out of his DIY prison had not been on the list. The surprise is written all over his face as his hand shoots up instinctively to protect his tightly shut eyes from the piercing ceiling lights. His reflex is also his downfall as a pair of hands capture his wrists with ease and promptly hold them over his head. Completely taken out of order by the bright light, the teen reacts belated as a weight settles on top of his legs, pinning him to the couch. The lights dim as Friday seems to have caught onto his trouble opening his eyes, and it takes a few moments before he dares open his eyes again.

"Well, where were we?" asks Sam, cracking his knuckles.

"The kid said you should get your eyes checked."

Sam squints at Bucky before directing his eyes down to Peter, pointing a finger at his chest.

"See what you did? Now I'm going to hear about this for the next weeks."

The kid dared to chuckle. Sam was sure he didn't imagine it. The kid was even making fun of him in this situation. How did it come to this level of disrespect? He raises an eyebrow at the teen, which causes the exact opposite of what he had in mind. The teen fought a grin.

"Are you laughing at me?"

Peter's eyes are twinkling with mischief.

"There is that optician shop right around the corner. I know the manager from one of my patrols. Her name is Patrisha, and she's super nice. I could put in a woHOHORD FOHOR YOUHUHUU! NO, STAHAP IHIHIT!"

"Stop?" asks Sam, whose fingers have found a way under the teen's sleeping shirt and whose thumbs are kneading into the sensitive side of Peter's stomach. "After everything you just said, you little gremlin?"

Peter pulled and tore on his arms, but Bucky's hold didn't budge an inch. His upper body lay helplessly exposed to Sam's attacks. Sam seems very aware of that, too, and doesn't miss splashing out every technique he can think of while searching meticulously for Peter's weak points as if it were hard to find them. Both adults quickly realize that the squirming teen turns out ticklish all over. The kneading had been evil already, but when Sam began softly tickling over his bare stomach, the tips of his fingertips barely touching him, Peter thought he was ready to crawl out of his skin. He kicks his legs, bucking in their hold, and his face is about to split in half by how much he's grinning.

"STOHOHOHOP, stopstopstopstohohop, pleahahase! Sahaham! I cahahan't tahahake thihhis!"

"Oh, come on, don't spoil the fun. Spider-Man surely can handle a little tickling. Wait a second. Didn't you say you're not ticklish? If I do this, it shouldn't bother you. If you didn't lie about it."

Sam grins smugly, pushing the shirt upwards. He reveals a pale but well-defined stomach.

"That skin is as white as a sheet. You ever go out?" comments Bucky, and Peter doesn't know why but finds himself laughing even louder. Or it could be the cause of Sam's fingers, which have found their way towards his ribs and dug into them with vigor. The teen jolts as a finger digs into a particularly delicate spot, right under his bottom rib.

"Would you look at that?" Bucky and Sam share shit-eating grins while Peter gasps for air between a giggle fit.

"What have we gotten here?" Sam asks. He puts his hands on Peter's ribs, his thumbs lying right on the spot that had made the teen jump a moment before. That alone was enough to make him flinch again.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's a bruise from a few days aGOHOHO. NO!"

"You got hit?" asks Sam incredulously, before massaging into the spot with circling movements of his thumbs.

Peter can only nod, lips pressed tightly together, and eyes squeezed shut as he tries ignoring the electrical impulse jolting his entire body with pure willpower. He might have succeeded if there wasn't a third hand sneaking down and blunt nails dragging over his right armpit.

Brown eyes shot open widely, and Sam used the moment of surprise to press both thumbs into the spot while vibrating his hands and shaking them as the rest of his fingers dug between the teen's ribs.

"NAAHAHAHAHAHA. THAHAHAHAT'S UNFAIHIHIHIR! AHAHAHAHA BUHUHUHCKY, YOUHU'RE SUHUHUCH AHAN ASS-ACK! I'M TAHAKING IT BACK!! I'm taking it back, I'm tahahaking ihihit bahahack! I never said anythihing!"

"It's fascinating how a little tickling can bother a non-ticklish person as much as this, right?"

Bucky had to put both hands back to use holding the teen down, who was trying everything to free himself. Peter squirms back and forth under the series of attacks as high-pitched squeaks, followed by loud laughter, pour out of him. "Youhuh bohoth ahahre terrible! Terriblehe ahahand meahan!"

"You told your aunt something different."

Sam almost felt evil.

Wide eyes stared at him with something akin to horror.

"How do you know what I've talked about with my aunt?"

"We might have overheard some stuff."

Both men thought now they took it too far. But instead of distrust or anger, the teen wears a cheeky expression, eyes gleaming with a familiarity resembling Stark a bit too much for Sam's liking.

"Good to know that at least you're hearing's still alright."

"You little shit. Just wait till I'm done with you," threatens Sam with a growl. Before Peter can let out another savvy quip, the man bends forward and blows a giant raspberry on top of his stomach.

Peter didn't see that one coming.

A short scream escapes his throat, his back arching off the couch as the flight reflex kicks in harder than ever, collapsing into a madly giggling heap of weak limbs.

"I think you just found Spider-Man's weak spot. Gotta remember that for the next training session."

Those words would usually be enough to leave Peter shuddering, but, at the moment, he couldn't grab one clear thought as Sam's head was already on the way down.

"Let's see how many of these you can handle, tough cookie," teases Sam with a smirk as he blows a third, fourth, and fifth raspberry on Peter's stomach and when he can reach his sides.

"Ohoho my gohohod, pleahahase, stahahap it!" presses Peter out before breaking into another giggle fit, adorable squeaky laughter bouncing off the walls and filling the room.

"You know, all that wouldn't have happened if you had just got up when we told you to. How about now? Will you get up? Are you awake?"

The grin on Peter's face reaches up to his eyes, mirth dancing in them despite the teen calling them out for torturing him. Sam observes the kid growing frantic as his fingers wander higher up.

"I can get you wide awake in a second. Wanna bet?"

With these words, Sam bends his head down again, but before his lips can meet skin, he stops and digs his fingers into Peter's armpits instead. A mad cackling follows, and Peter pulls and pulls on his wrists, the feeling of fingers fluttering over his armpits driving him up a wall.

"I'M AWAKE. IHIHI AM COMPLETELY AWAWAKE! Ohoh my gohohod, Sahaham stohop. Pleahase nohot my underarms, I'm goihihing tohoho gehehet up whenehehever you tell mehe toho!"

"Only when I'm telling you?"

"Whehehehn you're bohoth are tehehelling me!"

"You know, I don't care if you listen to Bucky."

Bucky turns away from the teen to send a glare to Sam's way. "You wanna fight?"

The teen uses the distraction and pulls strongly. He manages to get one arm out of Bucky's hold. He grabs Bucky's hand, prying the fingers off his other wrist.

"Oh no, you don't," says Sam and claws his hands into the teen's stomach. The fingers retreat from Bucky's hands as the teen cackles and tries shoving Sam off of him. Bucky takes the distraction as a chance and quickly captures the free hand as Sam weakens the kid by digging his thumbs into his hipbones.

"You listen when we tell you, alright?" he asks with a grin as he threatens to let his fingers hover over the kid's exposed tummy. Peter's eyes weren't even focusing on him, only watching his hands while unwillingly sucking his stomach in as Sam smirks at him.

"Ihihi wihill!"

"And now admit that you're ticklish."

At first, both adults didn't think it would be possible for the teen to grow redder in the face, but they were proven wrong after Bucky's words.

They couldn't stop teasing the teen for it.

"Come on," urges Bucky, using one hand to hold the teen's wrists as he pokes him in the side, earning a panicked chuckle.

"Admit it. I'm a itty bitty ticklish spider."

Peter glares at them and shakes his head, but the continuing poking from both men causes him quickly to fall into another hiccupy giggle fit.

"If you refuse, we have to handle this a different way," taunts Bucky with a sigh as if he regrets the next thing he's about to do. Peter struggles against the grip, but Bucky pulls his arms further, stretching his upper body and leaving it to Sam's mercy. The other man makes sure to dig his thumbs into the teen's stomach before blowing one raspberry after another on the quivering belly under him.

"Sam! Sahaham, pleahahase. Thihihis is torture! I'm going tohoho, to tehell Steve that you-ACK, ahahaha, thahat you two tormented meheh!"

"Nice try, but Steve doesn't like snitches."

"Steve also doesn't like bullies," argues the teen with the best glare he could muster.

Sam and Bucky exchange glances.

It doesn't take two seconds for Peter to regret his threat.

"I'm sorry! I'M SOHOHORRY! SAHAHAHAM, BUHUHUCKY! Noho mohore, pleasahe. I'm tahaking ihit bahack! I wohon't say anythihin to Steve, okay? NAHAHAHA STAHAP, SAM! NO! No,no nohohoho not thihis agahahain, pleaahase. I'm tihicklish, you heard me? I admit ihit, pleahase stahap."

"Okay, one more thing."

The kid sent them a pleading look, and Bucky felt like kicking a puppy if he didn't let him go now. Peter quickly pulls his shirt down once set free and crosses his arms over his chest. He climbs to the end of the couch, a wary look in his eyes. He doesn't trust any of them right now.

Sam rolls his eyes at the teen's overdramatics while Bucky smirks. Deciding to ignore the kid's glare, Sam sits down next to him.

"Why are you acting so different around us now?"

Peter raises an eyebrow at the question.

"I thought you eavesdropped on me and my aunt?"

"Maybe, but it still doesn't make sense."

There is a new shade of pink growing on the kid's ears and neck. He looks down and picks at his pajama pants.

"I kinda got intimidated by you two. I always thought you didn't like me very much, and there isn't more to it than being on the same team during missions. I've never dared to be just me around you guys like I would with Mr. Stark or Clint. But when you two took care of me when I was sick, I realized that you express your affection differently than I'm used to."

"Are you telling me that now you know what we are like, you're going to continue acting like a little gremlin cause you feel comfortable around us?"

There it is again.

That dreaded shit-eating grin.

"Maybe."

Sam groans.

"Great."

Peter smiles before looking up at the man.

"Hey, Sam."

"What?"

"About the thing with the glasses-"

"Come here, you little shit!"

[lindszeppelin]

austin is coming for me directly with this look

[spookygiggles]

mama mia some sketch work finally... idk my mental health n motivation is down but i still got it a bit, i hope 🤣💕

[valiantphantomangel]

The discovery

"Are you feeling alright? you look a bit stiff" Sam asked.

"Yay I'm fine, just overwhelmed my muscles with the mission" you, zemo, bucky and Sam hat gone to figure out more about the flag smasher and let's just say that the gave you a bit of a run for your money.

"I can help with that if want" buck offered which you nodded to.

His hands worked over your neck and shoulders making you cringe in pain some times, but when his hand went over your spine you gave a squel, getting the attention of the other two.

"What was that"? You could hear the grin in sam's voice.

"N-nothing, just a ... Spot that hurt a bit more then the others" you said a bit to fast.

"Oh we both know that was something else" Zemo said coming over to you.

"Shut it Baron"! You quickly got out of your seat, not wanting to be trapped.

"Ohh back to code names, something is definitely up" bucky said looking at you with stupid grin on his smug face, slowly walking towards you. "You couldn't possibly be ticklish now".

"O-of course not, that's a stupid question" betraying your self when you backed away".

All three looked at each other then back to you, each with that smirk on there face.

"Run"

You didn't need to hear that twice sprinting away from the tickle danger, you slipped to a stop to hear if anyone was close to you. Hearing the thundering of two but the third was not heard, that's not good.

Your eyes scanned the area around, walking backwards. Big mistake.

You back collided with the wall or what you thought was the wall, until it wrapped it's arms around you.

"Gotcha" Zemo said in you ear, he threw you over his shoulder and made his way back to the 'living room'.

"Zemo LET ME GO NOW"

"No can do sweet heart" he laughed "Guys i found her"!!

He sat down on a chair and pulled you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

Zemo and you hat a complicated relationship at first but after you two warmed up to each other, he became more like a father figure to you and to him you were like a daughter he never hat.

The duo and stood next to you.

"Now are you going to tell us what we want to know or not" Sam asked.

"Never" you were already giggling but when zemo duck into your rib cage that soon turned to full on belly laughter.

Sam and bucky decided that it was a good idea to BOTH work on your knees and thighs.

Needless to say you went insane.

"HAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH STOPHAHAHAHAH" you screamed through your laughing.

"I suspected that you were ticklish but this ticklish... Did the serum make you more sensitive"? Bucky chuckled.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I DON'THOHOHO KNOWHAHAHA".

"Then will have to find that out now, dont we".

After your laughing and screaming curses at them in all possible languages know to mankind, they finally let you breath but didn't let you go.

"Alright we will make you a deal, if you tell us one of your worst spots we'll maybe let you go" Zemo said.

You pretended to think for a minute before saying "No deal" and shoot your hands into Zemo's thighs, electing a scream of laughter from him and letting you go.

You ran as fast as your legs could carry away from them, the sound of foot steps and laughing echoed through the building.

The next two days were filled with were filled with little tickle fights.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Desperate Measures

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 5703

Content / warnings: swearing, a lot of sexual tension, steamy kissing, suggestive humour, tickle fic, implied sex

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: hello! I've come out of the woodwork to drop this random fic, thinking some of you may enjoy some wild sexual tension, teasing, and ruthless ler!loki I felt randomly compelled to write. I can't make any good-faith promises regarding future writing, so I'll just share this for now. All the love <3

The air in the gym was still and heavy, the only sound breaking the silence was the steady rhythm of your fists connecting with the punching bag. You were alone, intentionally so, using the late hour to work through a restless energy that had been gnawing at you for days.

Well, months, really.

There had been something about the Compound lately, something about him that made it hard to focus, hard to sleep.

The leather of the bag thudded under your punches, each strike sharp and measured as you practiced your form. But as effective as the session was at releasing some pent-up tension, you couldn’t ignore the nagging realisation that it wasn’t quite enough. And you didn't know what would be.

Then you heard him - felt him, really, before he spoke. Loki’s presence always announced itself in a subtle way. A shift in the air, a sense of something electric.

The low, velvety voice followed, as if materialising from the shadows. “This hardly seems like a fair fight.”

You froze for the briefest second, your fist still mid-air, before lowering your arm and turning to face him. There he stood, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed casually over his chest. He looked entirely too composed for someone who had just caught you off guard, but that was Loki’s way. His dark hair framed his sharp features, and his eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief. “Rather a waste of energy, fighting something that won’t hit back.” A pause, an assessment, a tilt of his head in challenge. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Your pulse quickens, though you’d never let it show. With Loki, you’d learned to keep your guard up. His constant presence, the lingering stares, the flirtatious banter - you still couldn't tell if it was all fun and games to him, or... if he actually...

“I’m practicing my form,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady despite the warmth that was starting to spread up your neck.

He smirked, tilting his head as he regarded you with a dark glint in his eye. “If it’s form you’re after, perhaps a real opponent would better suit your needs. I’d be happy to assist.” The words hung in the air between you, their weight heavy with invitation.

You hesitated, your heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. Sparring with Loki? Not smart. The man - the god - was unpredictable, dangerous. You weren’t an idiot; in the field, you’d leave threats like Loki to the bigger guns like Steve, or Thor. But here, in the controlled environment of the gym, with no weapons and only the hum of underlying tension between you two, it felt different.

Risky in a way that had nothing to do with physical harm.

Still, you felt a thrill shoot through you at the thought. Something about his attention always made you feel alive, a little reckless.

You wiped the sweat from your brow and tilted your head. “Not sure this is a smart idea, Loki. I usually leave the big threats to the super soldiers and gods.”

His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “You’ll do just fine.” His tone was smooth, almost coaxing, as if you’d already agreed.

You rolled your eyes, turning toward the mats, feeling his presence at your back as he followed you. You were trying your best to seem unaffected, but his proximity set your skin alight.

Every step toward the sunken sparring area in the centre of the gym felt like a countdown. When you stepped down the couple of stairs onto the mats, you turned to face him, only to find him much closer than you expected. His height, the way he loomed just slightly, was intoxicating. He was so unfairly beautiful. And he knew it.

You gave him a look, a mix of challenge and uncertainty, trying to hide how affected you were. But Loki noticed everything. His eyes flicked briefly to your lips before settling back on your gaze.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice coming out a bit more breathless than you intended.

“Now,” Loki began, circling you slowly, his movements graceful, predatory, “we see what you’re truly made of.”

You squared your shoulders, keeping your stance neutral, trying to maintain your focus. But the energy between you felt charged, almost too much to ignore. Loki was testing you, as he always did - pushing buttons, seeing how far he could go before your unaffected facade slipped. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing how much he got under your skin. But, deep down, you knew that you weren't fooling him.

After one revolution around your body, he stopped in front of you, that smirk still playing on his lips. You didn’t wait for him to make the first move. You lunged forward, aiming a strike toward his midsection, but he dodged it easily, too fast, too graceful. He didn’t retaliate. Not yet. He was baiting you, letting you come to him. Typical.

Your next punch was aimed higher, toward his chest, but he caught your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, but not painful, his skin cool against yours. He raised an eyebrow, almost amused.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he murmured.

You twisted out of his hold, stepping back to reassess. Your heart was racing, not just from the sparring, but from the feel of him, his hand, his eyes locked on yours like a predator toying with its prey. There was something dangerous in the way he moved, something inherently sensual in the way his body seemed to flow, effortless yet lethal.

You tried again, going low this time, aiming a sweeping kick toward his legs. He sidestepped, but not fast enough. You caught him just enough to throw him slightly off balance, and his smile widened. You could've sworn a gleam of admiration flickered in his eyes.

“Not bad,” he said, before moving on you.

Suddenly, he was in your pocket, faster than you anticipated, and before you could block, he had you pinned. One arm locked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the other catching your wrist, holding it firmly above your head. He hooked one leg around yours and controlled the descent of your bodies. Your back hit the mats with a soft thud, him directly above you, and you gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. Not fully from the impact, more from the overwhelming sensation of his body pressing against yours.

For a moment, everything stilled. You were trapped beneath him, and he was so close, his breath warm against your neck, his body hovering over yours, just a breath away from full contact. The weight of him, the way he held you so effortlessly, sent a rush of heat through you.

Loki’s eyes bored into yours, dark and intense, and there was no mistaking the shift in the air. The playfulness was still there, but underneath it was something deeper, something charged with heat and anticipation.

“Still think this was a bad idea?” His voice was a low purr, his lips dangerously close.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it in lazy circles, a deliberate tease. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped beneath his touch, trying not to wonder if he could hear it. Feel it.

He lowered his brow, “You clearly haven’t been trained by anyone outside of Midgard.”

His words pricked at your pride, and you glared up at him, breathless, as you tried to wrench your wrist free. “Of course not,” you retorted, a bit sharper than you’d intended. “Not all of us have had the privilege of an intergalactic education.”

His expression softened for just a heartbeat, a glimmer of something that might've almost be concern, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a look of pragmatism. “That won’t do,” he said simply, releasing you, pulling you to your feet with an ease of strength that made your heart stutter.

“There are… larger threats than you’ve known. You need to understand how they fight.” His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Or you won't stand a chance."

You swallowed thickly, the implication heavy between you, and found yourself unable to look away, captivated by the intensity in his eyes, the subtle promise that lingered just beneath his calm disposition.

In his own strange way, he was offering to train you.

In that moment, it felt like the tension, the unspoken attraction that had been building between you over the months, was ready to snap. The rational part of you is screaming that this was dangerous, that whatever this was, it was a risk you shouldn’t take; putting yourself in the situation to be in constant close quarters with someone who already set you on a steep edge could only end in a heart-wrenching longing.

But as you met Loki’s gaze, defiance and something far more potent flared within you, and you couldn't deny the pull.

“Show me, then,” you whispered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded furiously in your chest.

He smirked, a dark satisfaction flickering across his face as he stepped closer still. “Very well,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The gym was empty, as it usually was this time of night, save for the low hum of your breathing and the solid thud of your body against the mats, the result of another frustrating sparring session with Loki.

It had been weeks of this. A rhythm that’d somehow become normal, sparring sessions where you were pushed to your limits and left feeling exhausted but invigorated.

Loki’s method of training was relentless, unforgiving, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The techniques he taught you - sharp, brutal movements, counters that defy human logic - had already sharpened your skills in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

He was maddening and insufferable, with his mocking commentary and easy confidence, but he had made you better.

You would flush to admit how much you looked forward to the few sessions each week. Because though you had trained with all kinds of opponents, none of them compared to the dark, infuriating figure currently pinning you to the ground.

He loomed above you, his body pressed just enough against yours to keep you in place, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin making the friction of his hold electric. You were breathless, chest rising and falling as you stared up at him, face inches from his as he flashed that knowing grin.

Unfortunately, this had become a very normal position to find yourself in. Loki never let you win, and never let you up without an admission of defeat, saying allowing such things would only breed complacence.

“Ready to surrender, darling?” His voice was dark silk, the smugness woven through every syllable. His eyes traveled over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips as you caught your breath. “Again? What are we, zero-and-thirty?”

The mix of arrogance and barely-contained amusement in his expression made your irritation bubble over.

"Go to hell."

"Charming," he replied, arching a brow. "By all means, keep on with your futile attempts to escape," he shrugged with indifference, further stoking your frustration. "I do so enjoy this part."

Your jaw ticked. You were tired, flustered, not any more used to his proximity even after weeks of this. You thought you'd be desensitised to his flirting, his touch... him, but, if anything, it was all pulling you closer to the edge of desperation.

And desperate times call for desperate measures.

At least, that's what you told yourself. In reality, you weren't thinking. You couldn't have been thinking, given that no one in your position would've considered such a foolish move.

In a final, desperate move, a slapdash attempt to get him off of you without having to surrender, your fingers darted to his sides, pressing into his ribs in a way that might, with any luck, give him a taste of his own teasing medicine.

But the instant your fingers touched him, and he merely flinched once, you knew you'd made a careless mistake, and a devastating one at that.

This was something you could never take back.

He stilled, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips. His gaze slowly shifted down to where your hands rested on his torso, and when he looked back up, the mischievous gleam in his eyes turned predatory.

“Oh?" His voice dropping to a dangerously low, delicious murmur, “You’ve just made an exceptionally poor choice.”

Your stomach dropped, and a tsunami of regret hitting you instantly. “Wait. Loki, I didn���t-”

“You want to play, hmm?” His smirk only widened as he leaned in, his grip tightening. “How delightful. Do carry on.”

“Please, I'm sorry,” you gasped, trying to push at his chest, already breathless. “I wasn't thinking- Loki, please!” You could feel your cheeks growing warm, laughter bubbling up as he held you firm. "I'm sorry!"

“Shh,” he crooned, his smirk deepening. “No need to waste your precious breath.”

"Oh no, please, not this," you laughed despite your wincing, pushing harder at his shoulders. It did nothing.

“Begging already?” His fingers found your sides, pinning them as his thumbs pressed firmly into the sensitive skin above your hips. “You might regret that even more, darling.”

Before you could protest, his fingers began to move, an unrelenting, devastating rhythm that sent a jolt of sensation through your body. Your attempts to fight it crumbled instantly as laughter spilled from your lips, your hands still trying, and failing, to push his away.

“Loki! N-no-” you gasped between giggles, squirming beneath him as his fingers worked with merciless precision. He watched you with keen fascination, clearly enjoying the effects of his touch on you far too much. His thumbs traced slow, calculated circles against your ribs, each movement skilled and targeted, attuning his touch at a terrifying speed. Learning how to deliver a masterful torture, designed just for you.

“Oh, I think yes,” he replied, his voice a teasing purr. “And to think, all it takes to make you crumble is a little tickling. How... adorably human.” His words were as wicked as his touch, his fingers finding every sensitive spot along your ribs, raking over your skin with a tormenting ease.

Your laughter only grew, helpless and unbidden, your body writhing beneath him as you tried to twist away from his relentless fingers. But the press of his body against yours, the heat of his breath, and the smirk on his lips were driving you to the edge in more ways than one.

“You know,” he continued, one hand slipping higher along your ribs, while the other skated down your side in search of a new vulnerable spot, “you really should have thought this through.” He watched as you struggled to speak, your protests dissolving into helpless laughter as pinched the soft spot above your hip in a steady rhythm. “But I suppose thinking things through isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it?”

Another fit of giggles burst from you, the words “Shut up- Loki, I swear-” managing to slip through the laughter before his searching hand found an especially sensitive spot just above your knee. Your leg jerked, and you could barely contain the yelp that escaped you.

“Oh, now that's a good spot, isn't it?” he mused, his smirk widening as he kept his fingers there, watching with satisfaction as you writhed in his grip. His thumb and middle finger cratered into your skin, moving in small, unrelenting circles against the muscle, each pass drawing a louder, more desperate laugh from you.

Every time your laughter began to steady, Loki would adjust, finding fresh angles to torment that same spot, leaving you gasping and breathless, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The sound of his satisfied chuckle only made the entire ordeal more maddening, his smirk widening with every helpless laugh he drew from you.

The muscles of your core ached, already weakened from the near hour of sparring you'd endured before this ordeal, and your desperation mounted as you realised just how completely you were at his mercy.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice mockingly sympathetic. “All those threats you make, all those fighting words... yet-"

The door to the gym opened suddenly, and two figures stepped inside. Loki didn’t miss a beat, glancing up to find Steve and Bucky standing there, their faces caught between surprise and amusement at the scene before them. Loki merely grinned, unperturbed, as though they were expected guests.

“Ah, gentlemen, so kind of you to join us.” His fingers didn't stop, not even for a moment. Your breath hitched between laughs. “She’s been begging for mercy. Tell me, don’t you train your people to withstand a bit of torture?”

“Steve!” you gasped, trying and failing to sit up as Loki’s fingers dug into your ribs with a terrifying precision. The hand at your knee gave a quick pulse and you shrieked, giving a violent kick of your leg that somehow dislodged his hand. “Bucky- help!”

The two men exchanged a look, an unmistakable smirk crossing their faces as they watched you squirm beneath Loki’s touch, now at both of your sides.

Steve folded his arms, tilting his head as if considering your plea. “Seems like you've bitten off more than you can chew,” he said, lips quirking up in amusement.

“You're gonna have to get yourself out of this one,” Bucky added with smirk.

"Please!" You squeaked when Loki wrapped his hands around your hips once more, squeezing and pressing as you plead through helpless giggles. "I-I'll do anything- just- j-just help me, please!"

“Anything?” Loki murmurs, his voice low and smooth as he leans down, stilling his hands just long enough for you to catch your breath. “My, my, this sounds like quite the liability. Is this all it takes to break you?” His fingers latched onto both of your knees with renewed vigour, eliciting a shriek and then a fresh burst of laughter.

You were too far gone to respond, tears gathering in your eyes as you twisted under his touch, utterly powerless to escape. His words, his steady, relentless taunts, were maddening, each one sinking in deeper as his fingers found every vulnerable place that left you laughing helplessly beneath him.

Your cheeks burned as you tried to wriggle away from his fingers, laughter turning desperate as his hands traced the sensitive muscles along your thighs. “L-Loki, please—”

Loki casted a glance at Steve and Bucky, his voice dropping to a lower, more mocking tone. “Her training is sorely lacking. She's reckless, susceptible…" he looked back down to you with a sly grin, "and seems to lack any sense of risk analysis. Taking me on, indeed.”

You were incredulous - as much as you could be in your position - and you tried to protest, tried to tell them that it was Loki’s idea to spar in the first place, but the words won’t come. Loki’s hands had you too helpless, laughter spilling from your lips as he smirked down at you with an expression of pure satisfaction.

Bucky shrugged, grinning as he watched your futile struggle. “Maybe we need to work on conditioning that out of her.”

“Oh, no,” Loki interjected smoothly, slipping his hands to the juncture of your hips and thighs, sending you arching off the mat, squeals of laughter tearing from your throat. "I rather like her this way."

Desperation drove you to try to reach for Steve or Bucky, your arm outstretched in a silent plea for mercy.

You should have learned your lesson about desperate moves.

Loki saw the opportunity in your attempt, and with a smooth, precise move, he twisted you onto your stomach, pinning your outstretched wrist to the mat as he settled over you, his other hand slipping to your lower ribs to press into a spot he'd already memorised, one that made you shriek.

“Really, darling,” he whispered darkly, his voice rich with satisfaction, “your judgment is appallingly poor, isn’t it?” His fingers glided higher, hitting a spot on your upper ribs that made your laughter turn silent, breath hitching as you struggled under him.

“You handed me this opening,” he tutted, his taunting words making you burn hotter. “What happens next is your fault.” His fingers found the sensitive spot beneath your arm, drawing out a fresh wave of laughter as your body arched, your feet scrabbling for traction as you slapped your free hand against the mat.

Hard laughter barrelled out of you, your head falling to the mat as you squeezed your eyes shut, succumbing to the sensations he was pulling from your nerves.

Surrender washed over you, cool and easy, as you felt your muscles go limp beneath him, nothing in your mind but the feeling of his body, his hands, the force of your laughter, and the pure, unadulterated fun he was having with you. And it was fun, you realised. In a way that people like you usually didn't indulge in.

Bucky tapped Steve on the arm and jerked his chin towards the door behind them. "Seem like you have this under control," he smirked at you. You looked up to glare but only caught their knowing glance, the one of friends and not of Avengers. The one that said, we know exactly what's going on here.

It made you flush almost as much as the unrelenting torture.

Almost as soon as they left you, Loki's tickling hand pulled away. You gulped greedy breaths in as he turned your sagging body with ease, settling you on your back as he hovered over you, eyes roaming the product of his work.

"I trust you've learned your lesson." His voice was a low rumble that sent heat pooling to your belly. All you could do was nod. "Next time you dare to pull a stunt like that," he started, leaning in so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, "I won't be so gentle."

Heat bloomed over your cheeks, to the tips of your ears, the space between you charged, crackling with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.

You couldn't look away, your breath catching as his gaze lingered on your lips.

His own parted, as though he was on the verge of closing the distance...

He flinched.

Pulled back. Pulled away.

Your brow lowered in concern, but before you could ask what was wrong, he stood.

"Until next time."

He looked down at you, his eyes lingering with a promise that made your pulse pound, before he turned and strode out of the gym, leaving you sprawled on the mat, breathless, wanting, and hopelessly, maddeningly confused.

It was late that same night when you finally worked up the nerve to confront him.

You moved through the silent halls of the Compound, each step echoing in the darkened corridors as you slipped past the shadows pooling in doorways. Uncertainty crept up your spine, and you almost turned back more than once, only to grit your teeth and push forward. There were too many things left unsaid, too much tension thickening the air between you and Loki, and it gnawed at you now, refusing to let you retreat.

Before you could decide on a way to begin, his door opened. He stood there, almost as if he’d sensed you coming, his expression a mix of curiosity and that ever-present amusement.

“It's rather late for a visit,” he said, his tone low, his words quiet and full of question.

You met his gaze. “Couldn't sleep,” you replied, massaging the back of your neck with one hand.

His lips twitched with something darker, though his tone remained light. “And you thought I could help?”

Silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you wondered if this was a mistake.

"I thought you might be able to, considering it's your fault."

His face softened at the strain in your tone, and he stepped aside in a silent invitation for you to enter.

Swallowing hard, you stepped forward, pressing past him and into his room. He shut the door behind you, and the world seemed to fall away, the dimness settling around you, cocooning you both in a place of shadow and warmth.

"Go on then," Loki urged as you two stood near the lounge set in his room. A couple of armchairs and a matching couch, cast in the soft glow of several lamps and a dying fire in the hearth.

You drew a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak. “I know what you are, Loki,” you began, feeling your voice tremble with both fear and resolve. “Mischief is part of your very nature, and I don't mind fun and games like- like earlier," you flushed thinking about it, catching the smirk forming on his features as he watched you fumble.

You gathered your courage and stared him straight-on. "But not with my feelings. All this- this flirting, and touching, and closeness... it's not a game to me. So if it doesn't mean anything to you, I'd rather it stop."

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, the smugness vanishing, replaced by something harder, sharper. He let the words hang between you, a silence stretching before he repeated them in a voice almost too soft to hear. “If it doesn't mean anything to me,” he murmured, a subtle, dangerous edge to his tone. "You think this- that you are simply a game? Another amusement of no consequence?"

You swallowed, willing yourself to continue. “Today…” Your voice broke slightly, and you pushed the words out. “In the gym, we were so close. I thought...” Heat flooded your cheeks, but you forced yourself on, the confession slipping free. “For the dozenth time, I thought you were finally going to kiss me. But I just left wondering if I'm a fool with some silly schoolgirl crush, way in over my head." The admission left you raw and breathless, your heart pounding.

He exhaled, the smallest hint of a rueful smile ghosting over his lips. "You were trapped beneath me. Pinned, helpless,” he said, as though it explained everything. “I could never take that liberty with you while you were at my mercy.” His gaze grew darker still, something haunted flickering in his eyes. “I’d never forgive myself if I gave in to such an impulse. I'd never stop wondering if you had truly wanted it."

"But I did want-"

"And what if you hadn't?"

His words were a balm and a brand, his unwavering gaze rooting you to the spot.

"I had to know it was real. Not something forced or coerced, something... taken from you when you were too breathless to say no. I had to know for sure that it was what you desired."

For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, the weight of his reverence filling the space between you.

“It is,” you managed, each word trembling with the strength of your resolve. “I want this. I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. I don’t want to ignore it anymore.” You swallowed, breathless.

A beat passed, and something changed in his face - a tension releasing, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t expected.

Slowly, he extended his hand, his fingers unfurling in a silent invitation.

You slipped you palm into his, letting him pull you toward him, his touch both a promise and a tether.

He guided you closer, his hands sliding down your arms, tracing the lines of your shoulders, until they rested firmly on your waist. Then, with a gentle insistence, he drew you toward an armchair, lowering himself into it and coaxing you down to settle over his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs.

His hand rose, tilting your chin so that you were forced to look into his eyes. They held an intensity that bordered on unrelenting, darkened by desire and the hint of something raw, something that took your breath away. He watched you intently, his expression filled with something just shy of reverence. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him as his fingers trailed along your neck, igniting every nerve.

You shivered as he leaned in, so close that his breath fanned across your lips. His touch was calm and certain, his gaze flicking over you as if committing every part of you to memory.

“I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, voice low and heated. “For you.”

The weight of his words pressed against the heavy silence between you, and before you could answer, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and consuming.

He guided you with a gentle but undeniable command, his mouth pressing deeper, each kiss drawn out, languid, until it felt like he was unraveling you with every deliberate stroke of his lips against yours.

The world blurred, and you melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he lured a soft gasp from your lips. His hand slid to the back of your neck, steadying you, keeping you close as he took his time, tasting you, his lips teasing yours until you forgot to breathe.

When you moved to meet his kiss more eagerly, he slowed you, a faint smirk in the curve of his lips as he deepened the kiss with a patience that made your stomach twist. He was savouring this, savouring you, and the way he kissed you - deliberate, knowing - made your entire body ache with need.

His thumb brushed along your cheek, lingering as his other hand settled firmly at your waist, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away.

Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair as he angled your face, holding you exactly where he wanted. When his tongue brushed lightly over your lower lip, you let out a soft, involuntary sound, and his hand tightened against your waist, holding you to him.

Loki’s mouth moved over yours with a control that made you shiver, each kiss deliberate, and the quiet dominance in his touch sent warmth pooling through you. With every gentle press of his lips, every slow, teasing stroke, he seduced you, guided you, igniting something deep and undeniable that had simmered for too long. Your heart beat heavily against your ribs, and as you gasped softly, his mouth trailed along your jaw, his lips barely brushing over your skin.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze was dark, his expression full of barely-contained intensity.

A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, the teasing glint returning to his gaze. “Well, look at you,” he soothed, voice rich with quiet amusement. “I half-expected you to come tearing through that door, seeking vengeance for how thoroughly I put you in your place earlier.”

Heat pooled in your face, and you fought to keep your composure, though it was a losing battle. “I’d have been fine if you hadn’t-”

“-handled you so effectively?” he interrupted with an infuriating grin, each syllable soft and mocking. “Don’t worry. I rather enjoyed it myself.”

His thumb still lingered on your flushed lips, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief but something darker, something that felt like an invitation. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and heated, and the words sent a thrill down your spine.

The invitation hung between you, heavy and dark, the desire in his gaze nearly tangible. Your breath hitched, your heart racing at the thought of losing yourself completely in him, of surrendering to this quiet storm between you.

“That depends,” you managed, barely able to steady your voice. “Are you planning to repeat what happened earlier?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening on your waist as his eyes glittered with amusement. “Only if you ask very, very nicely.”

A thrill shot through you as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with a dark, velvet whisper. “That certainly won't be the last time we play like that. Tonight, however... I have other ideas for what to do with you." His fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.

Gods help you. He was going to be your undoing.

"I thought I'd take my time, learning you. Slowly. Thoroughly. Every little detail, every sweet noise you can make." His lips skated across the pulse point in your neck. "Would you like that, darling?"

"Yes." You had barely whispered your reply before his lips were on yours again, his mouth moving over yours with a slow, consuming fervour that left no room for questions, no room for anything except the feeling of him, his warmth, his presence, the gentle yet undeniable control in every touch. His fingers threaded through your hair, his hand steadying you as he deepened the kiss, guiding you with a restraint that made you shiver.

You melted into him, your breaths mingling as his hands drifted, his touch both firm and soft, and when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“This is not a game,” he whispered, a promise in his tone, his thumb tracing light patterns along your neck. His expression was sincere, edged with both longing and restraint. “You say the word, and we’ll stop.”

The words were a quiet echo, a reassurance that grounded you both. A chill of reverence passed between you, something thrilling, something impossibly tender. You met his gaze, nodding as your fingers traced the line of his jaw. “You too. No pressure, no expectations,” you whispered back, meaning it, and he smiled, a soft, endearing smile that made your heart ache.

And then he guided you back into his arms, every movement slow and deliberate as he kissed you once more, drawing you into a dance that would last until dawn.

[hey-i-am-trying]

Bagi's Demands

The book Bagi wrote for the rebellion | O livro que Bagi escreveu para a rebelião

English translation | Transcrição em Português

[Eng] I would like to request information through this letter:

After exploring the base and reading some documents, I realized that you have information about me and my brother, perhaps much more information than we ourselves can remember.

In order for me to trust you, I need you to trust me too and help me recover certain memories about my past.

Why was I brought to this island? Who are my parents? And how long have we lived here?

Cellbit's memories of our childhood are practically non-existent.

As for mine, I remember sensations, but I don't remember all the details.

I'll do all the investigations you ask as long as I also receive information about my past.

Better than an empty soldier is a soldier who knows where they've come from and where they're going.

That's my price.

[PT-BR]

Gostaria de solicitar uma informação através dessa carta:

Após explorar a base e ler alguns documentos, percebi que vocês possuem informações sobre mim e meu irmão, talvez muito mais informações do que nós mesmos possamos lembrar.

Para que eu possa confiar em vocês, preciso que confiem em mim também e me ajudem a recuperar certas memórias sobre meu passado.

Por que eu fui trazida para esta ilha? Quem são meus pais? E por quanto tempo vivemos aqui?

As memórias de Cellbit sobre a nossa infância são praticamente inexistentes.

Quantos às minhas lembro sensações, mas não me lembro dos detalhes por completo.

Farei todas as investigações que vocês solicitarem desde que eu também receba as informações sobre meu passado.

Melhor que um soldado vazio é um soldado que sabe para onde veio e para onde vai.

Esse é o meu preço.

[pepper-luv]

🌼~No Regrets~🌼

This is a tickle fic! If that's not your cup of ☕, ignore this!

Lee!reader x Ler!Adam (Hazbin Hotel)

NSFW and 26+ DNI! 🫶

Reader decides to pull a little prank on Adam, thinking it would be "funny". Adam, thankfully unfortunately,does not quite agree.

unedited, good luck soldier 🫡

You smile as you look at your finished work. Yet again, Adam fell asleep in a meeting, and Sera was too fed up with his bullshit to even bother trying to wake him up. He slept through the meeting, and now lays down on the table with drool pooling out of his mouth and your artwork displayed in sharpie on his face.

You try to stifle a laugh at the sight of his new, jet-black and 2d mustache. Of course, he could always cover it up with his mask, which is why it is now in your possession. He fell asleep on the table without properly securing his mask, of course, so when it fell off in his sleep, how could you resist?

You decide to get out of there before he wakes up and tries to murder you for your artwork. Snatching the mask off the table (and your sharpie, lest he decide to 'beautify' your face aswell), and are almost at the door when you hear a sleepy groan from behind you. Slowly turning your head, you see Adam rubbing his eyes and wiping the drool from his mouth on the corner of his sleeve. Fuck.

"It's finally over?" he asks sleepily, trying to look for his mask with squinty tired eyes and patting around the table. Once his eyes adjust to the light, he looks up at you. "Whatta ya got my mask for, sugar tits? Give it!" You stare at him, pressing your lips tightly together in an attempt to hide your laughter. He looks ridiculous with the sharpie on his face, and it's even funnier that he hasn't seen it yet.

"But everyone wants to see the gorgeous face of Adam, the original man!" You exclaim with fake admiration. He rolls his eyes.

"Of course they do, sweetcheeks, I'm the original dick! They gotta earn seeing the dickmaster's face. Now gimme my mask!" he grumbles, standing up and walking towards you. You flash him a quick grin before sprinting out the door, slamming it in his face and giggling. You quickly dash to your room, running into the bathroom and hiding behind the shower curtain. It's better than the closet or under the bed, those are easy spots!

You try not to laugh as you hear Adam barge in, not bothering to knock. "Where the hell are you? Gimme my mask!"

You hear his footsteps sound on the tile of the bathroom, and suddenly come to a stop. He's silent. You've never heard him be this quiet in your life, and you don't know whether to laugh or be afraid.

"You drew. On the ORIGINAL DICK'S FACE. With MARKER?" He exclaims, and you can't hold your laughter, cupping your hands over your mouth as you giggle. The shower curtain comes flying open, and you slide down the wall, giggling on the floor. He towers over you, a mix of fury and bafflement on his face.

"Aha- Adam, I'm sohohorry! It's just- funny!" You manage to giggle out, dying laughing at his decorated face and baffled expression. He smirks at you, raising an eyebrow as he snatches you up from the shower floor. Your eyes widen as he carries you into your bedroom and tosses you on the bed. Suddenly, you feel his fingers scribbling all over your ribs.

"You wanna laugh? Hmm? Yeah, you wanna laugh? Go on, let it out!" He mocks at you, grinning at your desperate giggles and squirms.

"NAHA- Nahaha Adam!! I'm sahaharry!" you squeal, wiggling around in an attempt to escape his torturous fingers.

"It's your own fault for messing with the dickmaster!" he responds, switching between drilling his fingertips against your stomach and in between your ribs in an unpredictable sequence.

"PLEHEHEASE!!" your giggles echo throughout the bedroom, and you look up at him to see his grin. He looks like he's having fun, despite the sharpie art across his face.

"Oh come on, you can handle it, sugar tits!" he teases, adjusting himself so that he's hovering over your belly. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

"No- no, Adam, plehehease! Have mercy!" You beg, giving him your best puppy dog eyes through giggles.

"But you love this face sooo much, you even put your artwork on it! I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I just used it to..." he brings his face down to your belly, nuzzling his stubble into your ticklish skin.

"NAHAhaha!!! Adam!" You squeal, eyes becoming big as saucers as you feel him taking a deep breath against your belly. "Adam- don't you dare.." But he doesn't listen, making you nearly scream with laughter as he blows a big ass raspberry against your belly. "ADAHAHAM!!"

"Aww, what's the matter sweetcheeks? Can't handle it?" He teases, blowing raspberry after raspberry all over your ticklish skin. By now you're a giggly mess, squirming and shaking with laughter as he finally relents his torture on your belly.

"Look at ya, all red and blushy!" he smirks, going back to his fingers' torture on your ribs. The tickles make you giggle uncontrollably, pushing at his chest and trying to squirm out of his grasp. Finally, you manage to roll out of his grasp, and straight off the bed. You tumble onto the floor with a thud, making him laugh as you let out an "OUCH!" and try to catch your breath on the floor.

You eventually drag yourself up off the ground, glowering at the sight of Adam laughing his ass off. "Having fun, shitface?" He raises an eyebrow, smirking and wiggling his fingers at you, making you shrink back. "Okay, okay!"

"Regret your decision to mess with the original dick?" he taunts, and you grin at him.

"Nahh, I don't do regrets- and anyway, it was SO worth it." you respond. He steps towards you, cracking his knuckles.

"Oh, you want a round two, don't cha sugar tits?" he mocks, making you back against the wall, blushing.

Worth it.

[batfeatherrs]

Omg! You like call of duty too! This fandom needs more tickles I swear 😭

Was just wondering if I could request a fic with task force 141? If not that's completely okay! :]

Hope you have fun making content 🫶💙

i will absolutely write for the task force they’re my sillies ever <3 since you didn’t have any specific requests i just made something up but i hope you enjoy!

✧ ˚ ࿔ vampfics

⠀🦇 ⠀|⠀TEAM DEBRIEF

characters: lee!Ghost, ler!Soap, ler!Gaz, implied ler!Price

summary: Ghost is having a hard time paying attention to the debrief. unfortunately, Soap catches on.

Ghost is usually very attentive during mission discussions and debriefs. He’s one of the only soldiers that regularly pays proper attention, no matter how exhausted or disinterested he is.

But, for some reason, he just can’t focus.

Ghost shifts slightly in his seat, letting out a faint sigh. He’s trying, really, he is: but no matter how hard he stares at Price’s face he just can’t bring himself to hear the words he’s saying. It feels like his head is made of clouds.

Beside him, sitting in the chair to his left, Soap notices the subtle wiggle and raises an eyebrow. Ghost never fidgets during debriefs, never. Soap shifts his attention from the thread he’s pulling at on his vest to the other soldier, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s not a hundred percent present in the room. Ghost is tapping his fingertips very gently against the table, and as he shifts he leans back in his chair and stretches his legs out.

Gaz notices too, seeing Ghost shift in his peripheral. He glances at him briefly, taking a mental note, and a faint smirk crawls across his lips before he looks back to the Captain.

It’s kind of amusing, watching him try to be inconspicuous about his boredom.

Ghost is almost entirely zoned out, his eyes slightly glassy and focused on Price, when a nudge against his ribs makes him nearly jump out of his skin. It’s so sudden that Price stops mid-word and stares at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright then, Simon?” He asks, his voice warm with a hint of curiosity.

Ghost nods, shifting a bit. “Yeah, sir,” he mumbles, nodding to Price. “Just had an itch.”

Price raises his eyebrows. He isn’t fully convinced by Ghost’s excuse, but he lets it slide for the moment and returns to his debrief. The moment Price’s attention leaves him Ghost shoots a heavy glare at Soap, whose hand is hovering in the space between their chairs. Soap only grins back at him, mischief dancing in his eyes.

That can’t be good.

Ghost tries to ignore it, but he can see Soap’s hand out of his peripherals. Soap’s fingertips twitch, and after a second he wriggles his fingers teasingly next to Ghost’s side. Ghost feels an embarrassing warmth rise to his cheeks and he turns his head away to put Soap out of his line of sight, suddenly very grateful for his mask.

Soap isn’t about to let it go, though. If Ghost is bored, he won’t be for long.

After a moment’s hesitation Ghost feels a set of fingers settle on his side and he twitches, his heart leaping into his throat. He tilts his head to glare at Soap again, but the teasing grin on his teammate’s face is enough to make his face burn and he turns away again.

Soap doesn’t heed his warnings. Ghost flinches again as he feels Soap’s fingertips press into his side lightly, into the exposed soft spot below the strap of his tactical vest. He bites his lip and inhales sharply, his back arching slightly away from the touch. God, he’s going to kill Soap after this debrief.

Soap’s fingertips trail up his side, agonizingly slowly, and Ghost’s heart flutters. A smile curls at the edges of his lips and he ducks his head slightly, curling his hands into fists on the table. Spurred on by the response, Soap’s hand begins to explore, creeping down his side towards his hip and prodding into the soft skin there. Ghost nearly chokes, wanting to slam his head into the table.

By now, Gaz has noticed the shenanigans occurring across the table. He grins, much less subtly than Soap, glancing at the Scotsman briefly. They make eye contact and before Ghost can say anything Gaz shifts and he feels his leg hook around his. Panic leaps into his throat as Gaz reaches down, his hand creeping from Ghost’s shin up to his knee, curling around it to trace gentle circles behind his knee. Ghost’s leg jerks, nearly smacking his knee against the underside of the table.

Christ, Ghost can’t keep this up for long. He can feel the warm static of giggles burning in his chest, threatening to spill up his throat and out from his lips. He’s about to raise a hand and excuse himself from the debrief for a minute when Soap’s hand creeps around his side and lands on his lower back, just above the waistline of his pants.

“Ack-!” Ghost lets out a surprisingly high-pitched squawk of laughter, jolting upright and hitting his knee against the underside of the table. The room falls silent, Price’s voice tapering off, and Ghost suddenly feels three sets of eyes on his face.

“Something funny, Simon?” Price asks, raising an eyebrow. He’s trying to sound serious, but Ghost can see the look of amusement and fondness in his face and he’s suddenly pretty sure Price has known all along.

Ghost swallows, Soap’s hand pressed against his back unmoving making him rather nervous. “Sir- HAHaha!”

Gaz’s fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his inner thigh, a few inches above his knee. His leg jerks again and he drops his head to the table, clasping a hand over his mouth and burying his head in his arm. He hears Gaz chuckle, but before he can tell him to fuck himself Price leans over the table with a smile on his face.

Price’s eyes narrow with amusement. “I think I just heard a giggle,” he says, his voice low and dripping with teasing. “Is that right, Lieutenant?”

Ghost doesn’t get the chance to reply. Soap’s fingertips start moving again, scratching lightly at the middle of his lower back, and Gaz wiggles a finger lightly against the inside of Ghost’s thigh. Ghost jolts and a splutter of giggles escape his lips, slightly muffled by his hand. He hears Soap coo, and Gaz leans over the table towards him.

“Come on now, Si,” he purrs, his voice warm and smooth. “Let’s hear that pretty laugh, huh?”

“Would you shut up- snRKHAHahAha!” The moment Ghost opens his mouth Soap’s fingertips dig into his back, eliciting a burst of laughter from the soldier. He arches his back, trying to squirm away from Soap and nearly falling out of his chair in the process. The others laugh, and Ghost feels his cheeks burn. “FuhUhuck- stahAHAP!”

After a few seconds Price lifts a hand, and Soap and Gaz freeze.

“Alright, enough,” he says, surprisingly warmly considering the interruption. “We can finish this debrief tonight.”

Price glances at Ghost, who’s blushing furiously behind his mask, and smirks. “I think we need some time to regroup.”

Hesitantly Soap withdraws his hand, and Gaz lets Ghost’s leg drop with a dramatic huff. Ghost doesn’t even move: he just buries his head in his arms, his shoulders twitching with leftover giggles as he tries to catch his breath.

Price looks at Ghost with a warm smile. “Alright, Simon?”

After a second, Ghost mumbles a reply.

“Mmhm.”

[sunstone-smiles]

A Serious Case of the Pent-up Giggles

Original request (from @gladdygirl18): "As a fellow Vox Machina fan, how about day 15 "are you ticklish" with Lee Percy and ler(s) the Elven Twins?"

Author’s note: Aaaaah!!! I’m soooo excited to share this because I’m super happy with how it came out! Gosh, I love Percy. Here’s Day 15 of Tickletober: “Are you ticklish?” from August’s Tickletober List! I hope you enjoy!

Series: The Legend of Vox Machina

Characters: Percy, Vax, Vex, and the rest of the Vox Machina crew

Word count: 1,712

Summary: Vex and Vax think that Percy needs to be “cured” of his case of the pent-up giggles. The twins know just how to help. 

---

There’s nothing like a warm fireplace, a comfortable chair, a sketchbook, and some company to fill the air with ambiance—at least to Percy, that is. And currently, he has all four. His quill delicately lines his pages with a draft of one of his newest project ideas, with intricate details of mechanical functionalities and notes on aesthetics if there’s time or resources. Yes, Percy’s productivity is at its peak. Honed in. Focused. Eyes and mind tethered to his work as he pictures the pieces to sketch. Nothing can distract him now.

Except for a sudden jab to his side. That’s distracting.

Percy restrains a yelp and jumps in reaction. He nearly drops his sketchbook from his hands. Pulled back to his surroundings, Percy glares through his glasses to the left of the couch seats. 

“Vax! What was that for?” Percy snaps at his ally.

“Whoa! Easy there, de Rolo,” Vax puts his hands up in defense. “I tried calling your name, but you weren’t answering. We were just reminiscing about the time Vex was using whole cooked chickens as target practice. I thought you wanted to chime in.”

Percy adjusts his glasses. “I know what you were talking about. I was already satisfied by just listening.”

“That was quite a jump there, Percy,” Vex chimes in from his right. She leans forward on the sofa that her, Percy, and Vax are sitting on so that Percy and her brother are both in her view. “I know Vax surprised you, but you nearly leapt off the couch.”

Percy reopens his sketchbook. His head is dipped down and looking away from Vex. “I was taken off guard, is all.”

“Oh, I totally get that,” Keyleth says from her spot on the floor by the fireplace. She’s been braiding Trinket’s fur with flowers as the bear sleeps beside her. “One time, Scanlan snuck up on me while I was tending to the flowers outside. I nearly fell into a pile of mud.”

“I wasn’t sneaking up on you on purpose!” Scanlan pipes up from an armchair. His legs are propped up on the side while he restrings his lute. “Those bushes are my height. I didn’t know you were there!”

Vex returns the group to the topic at hand, still keeping her eyes on Percy. “See, I would believe you Percy…” She pauses for a moment. A smirk crawls onto her face. “If I didn’t know you were faking it.”

“Excuse me?” Percy scoffs. 

“Well, maybe not faking it, per say. You were taken off guard,” Vex shrugs. “But there’s a second reason why you jumped that high. Actually, I have my suspicions.” 

Vex makes eye contact with her brother. She glances in Percy’s direction before looking back at Vax with a smile to inform him of her thoughts. Vax raises a brow, but after looking at his sister’s smirk and briefly observing where he poked Percy, an understanding grin forms on his own features.

“Oh, I know!” Grog raises his hand in excitement from his chair, “Maybe Vax’s jab was so strong that he nearly pushed Percy off the couch!”

“Or maybe it accidently hurt?” Pike guesses from her seat by the coffee table. She stands and approaches Percy. “Because if so, I can try to heal you–”

“No,” Percy says faster than intended, like he is on edge. He reassures Pike. “I’m fine. Thank you, Pike, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Oh no, Pike. Magic won’t help. What Percy has is a far more serious case,” Vex exaggerates her words.

Vax puts his arm on Percy’s soldier. “It’s a case that explains why he scowls all the time.”

“Why he doesn’t laugh as often,” Vex adds.

“An ailment that eats away at his chest!” Vax says.

“Trapped inside, just bursting to come out!”

“Alright! Out with it already!” Percy growls.

Vex leans back in her seat. Calm. Casual. “What you have is one serious case of the pent-up giggles.”

“What?” Percy scowls at them. He leans forward to place his sketchbook and quill on the table in front of their seats.

“Oh no! Percy, you’re sick?” Grog questions.

“I am not sick,” he answers Grog. “Sick of these two maybe,” he mutters while glaring at the twins. “But not physically ill.”

“But there is still a very important question we need to ask you, Percy,” Vax mentions. “And that question is this…”

The dagger wielding twin stares Percy straight in the eye. A mischievous grin curls up on the corner of his mouth.

“Are you ticklish?”

Percy glares back at Vax. His senses are sharp. His expression remains unfazed. “No,” Percy makes his words crystal clear.

“Ah, denial,” Vex shakes her head.

“One of the main symptoms,” Vax sighs as if hearing bad news, though his smile is still wide.

“Don’t worry, Percy,” Vex says. “Vax and I know just how to cure you. You’re in good hands,” Vex grins. She immediately follows up her words with a poke to Percy’s side. 

The man jumps and wraps his arms across his torso, now glaring at the female twin. “Vex–”

Percy jolts again, now whipping his head to the other side to glare at the male twin who poked his other side again. “Vax!”

Vex smiles at her twin. “Shall we brother?”

“We shall, sister.”

The two half-elves turn their smiles in Percy’s direction. Immediately, they pounce at him, tackling him into the back cushions of the sofa.

“Wait!” Percy exclaims as the twins put their mischief into action. He squeezes his arms to his sides and tries to wiggle from side to side to avoid the onslaught of pokes. “This is ludicrous!” he manages to yell out, right before Vex catches a well aimed scribble to his side.

Percy jumps away from her and releases a giggle-filled yelp. He immediately slaps both of his hands to his mouth before moving one hand to push at Vex’s shoulder, while his other hand continues to contain the bubbling sound of joy that lies beneath. 

Big mistake though. He forgot there were two twins.

Vax sneaks his hands from behind and scribbles into Percy’s unguarded ribs. The human instantly clamps his arms down with a shriek and jolts forward, but he’s easily pulled back by Vax as the rogue gleefully digs his fingers between the stubborn noble’s ribs. Vex also launches her hands at Percy’s sides now that his defenses are lowered.

A snort comes from Percy’s restrained snickers, which is soon followed by an outpour of wheezy giggles that continuously spill from Percy. He nearly knocks over Vax through his squirming, but the male twin holds him up and keeps in prime position for their playful method of "healing."

“Vehehehex! Vahahahax!” Percy shouts at them through his laughter.

“Nice going, brother,” Vex smiles to her twin. “See, Percy? Look at how many giggles you had stored up! You must be so relieved to finally let them all out.”

“Yohohou both are sohoho de-EHehehead!” Percy squeaks in the middle of his sentence from Vex finding another ticklish spot above his hip. He drags the heels of his boots into the seat cushions.

“Can’t throw your famous insults at us when you’re like this, huh?” Vax teases from behind.

“Yes, indeed,” Vex agrees. “I kind of like Percy this way though. He’s a lot less sassy, that’s for sure.”

“Whahahahat? Sahahahassy?!” Percy says, trying to defend the title of his good name even through his giggling state. “I am nohohohot sassy!”

“Ah, a shame. That was a sassy response right there,” Vex fakes a sigh. “It looks like the sassiness is still present through the tickling after all.”

“Maybe we have to tickle him more to remove the sassiness out of him,” Vax says, grinning.

“No-HOho!” Percy's voice goes higher in pitch from the sheer speed he said the word. “Nohoho more! Let me gohoho, yohohou menaces!” Percy nearly rolls off the couch, teetering on the edge of the cushions.

“If you say so,” Vax grins and releases his hold on Percy. Percy immediately crashes to the floor, as the only thing keeping him steady was Vax’s grip. 

Percy peels himself from the floor by pushing himself up on his arms. He glares at Vax from below.

The rogue shrugs. “What? You asked me to let you go,” Vax ends his claim with a smile.

Percy shakes his head with a growl. He retrieves his sketchbook and quill from the table as he gets back to his feet. He looks at his spot on the sofa between the still grinning twins.

He narrows his eyes at them both. “If I sit between you again, will there be any more funny business?”

Vex tosses up her hands. “None from me, darling. I’ve had my fun for today.”

“I’ve still got a little more fun left in me,” Vax says before reassuring him, “But I will save that fun for another time.”

Percy rolls his eyes. He returns to his spot on the cushions and immediately opens his sketchbook to bury his face between the pages. No doubt everyone’s conversation will be skewed towards the sight just now. He’s bracing himself for the following humiliation that his ears are going to hear next. 

“So…” Vex speaks first. 

Gods, here it comes. 

“Where were we in the story, Keyleth?” Vex finishes her thought.

Percy’s features suddenly ease to that of pleasant surprise.

“Oh, right!” Keyleth recalls. “So then I held the chicken really high above my head…” Keyleth resumes her story about the time of Vex’s target practice. The rest of the group begins chiming in again, as if the story was never derailed in the first place. 

Percy lifts his head and glances at Vex. Vex glances back and gives him a wink before turning back to the group. Percy looks to the pages of his sketchbook with a thankful smile.

She has his back. They all do, really. They’re the ones that placed him in an embarrassing set of circumstances in the first place, but perhaps it’s not all that bad when the people around him don’t see his embarrassment as a way to judge his character, but see it as a way to love him even more. He really is lucky to have a family like them.

[fluffyfantasticducky]

The Sound of Love

☆ Pairing: Loki x Mutant!Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki now an Avenger, is quite the reclusive and introverted member in the Avenger's compound and for someone who likes peace and quiet, it's ironic how smitten he is for the loudest member of the team.

☆ Word Count: 5,207

☆ Notes: Loki is smitten flirty ler. Reader is a mutant with hypersonic voice. This had been in my WIPs for so long, but I finally have some time off 😭 enjoy.

☆ Warnings: Anxious Reader, insecurities regarding voice and brief weight insecurities are mentioned. I am a sucker for opposites attract so the reader is a stereotypical sunshine happy go lucky.

Being an Avenger was interesting on its own, periods of strict dieting, rigorous training regimes, public events to raise public morale, testing out technology, political meetings, missions that lasted days or even weeks. Now, when you were, not only a former enemy, but the enemy, the original reason they came to exist… Well, it made it all more difficult to just do anything outside of the tower.

It made Loki concerningly reclusive. At first it seemed convenient, people were scared of him, so him wanting nothing to do with the outside seemed like a fair exchange, the facilities had everything needed to survive anyway. But it was only a matter of time until it became concerning.

So, Thor started doing his best to drag him along to his patrols and visits to town. Which helped getting less dirty looks from people rather when he tried going alone. But Loki always found a way to escape back to the compound and cut his visits to the town short.

But things changed the day he met you.

And Loki was not particularly one to fawn over mortals like his brother whose line of lovers could fill countries, not even over another god. While Loki had a fair string of lovers behind him, none ever really meant much to him or lasted much for that matter.

But you… you had something different. You were everything Loki found annoying. If there was a list to thing that got on Loki’s nerves, you may have as well checked every little box. You had a strict moral code and mawkish righteousness like the super soldiers, you had a strong temper and were very vocal about the things you did not stand for like his brother, you had a bubbly personality and enjoyed teasing and joking (almost flirting) around like Stark and the Falcon did and given your powers you tended to be quite loud. And somehow, despite all those things that could drive Loki mad, he was completely smitten. Which was probably the most infuriating trait you had.

Being placed together, Loki and you seemed to be like night and day at first instance. Loki noticed how you always seemed to be in a good mood and never denied anyone a nice chat, while you practically had to beg Loki to engage in conversation and even still, he’d seem rather bothered by being interrupted. You were always doing something to help around the quarters like doing extra dishes, cooking snacks for everyone, or wiping dusty furniture when you noticed something was dirty while Loki spent his free time with books are maybe an old movie when he felt like agreeing to enjoy human culture. And while you enjoyed reading as well, while Loki liked reading in silence you usually heard music earphones as you wagged your leg along the beat as you devoured books beside him.

“Hey nerds,” Sam stepped in the room. “We’re going dancing tonight, you two coming?”

“I’d rather—”

“Oh, which club?” you asked excitedly.

You had a way of peaking Loki’s interest when you spoke like that, your enthusiasm was terribly contagious, but he was too proud to do anything but pretend he was still focused on his book.

“Nat and Wanda wanted to take their men dancing.”

“Oh, so we’re staying home tonight?” you smiled.

“Do you think yourself capable of convincing Banner or Vision of socializing in a big club?”

“Hey, no judging. Besides, it’s more fun like that, we get to choose our own music.” You smiled brightly, you always seemed to have something nice to say about everyone. “Which conference hall are you gonna use?”

“2C, at 9 pm.” Sam grinned. “I take it we’ll see you there, mockingbird?”

“Yeah, should I wear something in particular?” you asked.

“Oh, how about that something se—”

“Sam, you finish that sentence and I’ll glue your upper arms to your chest.”

He wasn’t one to agree with the other Avengers, but that was something he wouldn’t mind seeing. And Wilson didn’t take it personal as he just laughed and left.

“Are you joining us, Loki?” you asked.

“I would rather stay here and finish my book” Loki smiled. “You go have fun though, darling.”

“Oh… b-but it won’t be as fun without you! Please, please, oh please!” you had your fingers tangled in a praying gesture and you were making the biggest pleading eyes he’d ever seen.

You were unfairly cute, but the power of persuasion you had over him was even scarier than the one from your mutation.

“Yes, of course” he sighed. “Thor would be upset if I keep passing up on your silly group bonding activities.”

You had tackled him in a couch in a bright hug as you thanked him over and over as your cheek squeezed his own, even pressing a sweet kiss against his cheek.

Between such affection and getting to see you dance all night was the most delightful way to spend the night he could think of. Next chance he’d even dance with you. Because he didn’t want to make the mistake of not dancing with you when you invited him ever again. Not that he minded watching you dance the night away.

And your singing, Norns, if you weren’t talking to anyone, you were always singing at least in a mumbly manner. Loki wondered how you could never go hoarse.

Every time you sung Loki’s heart fluttered. There was no right that your singing did the things it did to him. But he couldn’t help but swoon every time you did. And people were starting to notice. Karaoke nights were particularly interesting.

“The little mortal has a lovely voice, right?” Thor nudged him while you were on their improvised stage with Wanda, singing to Dance with Somebody.

“It’s good” Loki shrugged, trying to play it off.

“Yes, you seem to be enjoying it...” Clint said making a mocking dreamy face with along with an over dramatic sigh.

“Leave Rudolf alone,” Tony said.

Loki arched an eyebrow. Stark wasn’t the kind to be mediator when teasing took place, much less when he was tipsy like this.

“Being absolutely smitten over a human must be damaging enough to his pride.” He snickered.

Banner and Rogers just smiled amusedly, meaning Loki was not gonna get any back up from the more level-headed Avengers. Not that he expected it.

“You’re all delusional idiots.” Loki rolled his eyes.

But his attention was snatched back to the stage when you reached a high note. You had a good technique, your mouth opened wide with a smile as your voice reached a volume high enough that you broke Tony’s wineglass.

At this point, it was a normal occurrence. Everyone still remembered that they had to replace the old crystal dome on the recreational room with fortified polymer “soundproof” windows from that one karaoke night when they had you singing Dream On, the fact that no one left that night with permanent hearing damage was almost a miracle.

This time you didn’t seem to even notice the casualty of Tony’s glass, as you and Wanda kept jumping and dancing around as you sang happily with your friend. Loki could feel the heat creeping up on his cheeks as he saw how happy you danced around, and he could suppress the smile.

It was funny really, how much his mother would scold him growing up for being so impatient with Thor’s loud a boisterous nature just to end up falling for someone who was exactly that, maybe even worse. You had a lot of energy which was good because you always pushed yourself in training, but Loki never expected to be so drawn to someone like you. You shone like the sun itself, and being a frost giant like he was, it seemed almost dangerous to fall for you.

“Loki, Loki, Loki!” you jumped on the couch next to him, “Look, Loki!”

Ah, that was another thing, you had a tendency to say his name a lot. You were what Midgardians described as hyperactive, but his name was something you repeated a lot more than any word, and more than anyone else’s.

“A cardboard box?” he smiled. “What’s so exciting about that?”

“Oh, haha” you rolled your eyes, “My package arrived!”

You gave him a pleading look and he smiled. At this point it was almost a ritual, you got a delivery and you rushed to Loki for him to open it with a dagger he’d summon. Which had also started a game.

“What’s your guess, darling?” he smirked as his hand sizzled with his Seid.

“The silver twins daggers, I mean one of them, but you get it” you said firmly.

It was that simple, he had such a wide and vast collection of daggers that whenever you needed him to use them, you’d have to try to guess which one he’d summon.

Most of the time you’d lose give the odds were at least 50 to one, and it didn’t help that honoring his title, Loki would change his pick last second if you ever got it right. But today he was in a good mood, and soon he was wielding one of his silver daggers, it felt weird wielding the left dagger on his right hand, but your excitement to see you had got it right was worth it as you fell back to the couch with a “WOOO!”

“Oh, congratulations little canary” he clapped.

“You’re becoming predictable, Loki” you smiled.

“Oh, is that right?” he grinned as he reached to poke your side making you squeak.

“Would you rather admit that I’m getting to know you better?” you smiled.

“Loki don’t quit your dreams as an Avenger, you don’t have much future as a harlequin” he chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve made you laugh, and not everyone is as tough of an audience as you are.”

He just chuckled as he opened your package for you. It was two pairs of headphones.

“Another one?” he smiled. “Do you break them that often that you need to be in constant state of purchase? And what do you need the extra set for?”

“You say it as if I just compulsively and irresponsibly bought headphones!”

Loki arched an eyebrow and relished the fait blush on your cheeks.

“I re-sell the ones in good state” you mumbled.

“Right, whatever you say. That’s why you got two pairs.”

“No, uh... this one’s for you.” You smiled as you handed him a pair, “They have better Bluetooth range, the battery lasts longer, the headband is adjustable, and it blocks outside noise.”

When you handed him the pair, he got a better look at them. It was pitch black, and on the driver, it had a little golden sticker shaped like his helmet, he shifted it and the gold shone green. It was still weird how ever since Thor let his story be known people had become more accepting of him, especially people who knew that the Mad Titan was a monster had even come to support him, but the concept of merchandising his image for admirers to show their preference for him was still new to the former prince.

But the present was very pretty, almost as the little mortal gifting it.

“Thank you” he said a bit more softly than he intended.

“It’s no problem,” you tucked a string of hair behind your ear in a way that made his heart flutter.

“This will help me have a reason to not hear Thor’s drunk singing the next Barton drops by with beer.”

You let out a shy laugh.

“A-Ah… no, it’s for me actually” you said, “well, because of me, I mean.”

“You? What could I possibly need to avoid hearing you for?”

You shrugged.

“Thor mentioned a while back that you thought I was too loud.”

“He did?”

Oh… Oh that imprudent, bumbling, traitorous, airheaded, twisted oaf. That’s NOT what had happened. He remembered that conversation like it had been yesterday.

“Loki, there you are!” his brother had called him.

“Where else would I be?” Loki asked tiredly. “It’s too early.”

“Ah, I see the young mockingbird has kept you awake again” Thor said noticing the mug of coffee on his younger’s brother’s hands.

“We stayed up late talking, yes” Loki yawned. “Where she gets so much energy from is beyond me.”

Thor just laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this brother, it’s a welcome change, for sure, but an odd one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The little Midgardian has you completely enamored” Thor grinned smoothly, “I didn’t think she’d even be your type.”

“She’s… certainly different from what I’m accustomed” Loki agreed. “I’d dare to say he’s more rambunctious than you are. But she’s honest and strong-willed, a combination I didn’t get to see much of.”

Loki could only roll his eyes at previous relationships, because of his status he’d be greeted with two approaches: either partners who feared his rank and power and would submit to his will for fear, or even worse, leeches that would use him as a steppingstone to get to power (or get close to Thor). After a while Loki just gave up and played along treating every lover like a casual affair and soon move on to the next thing.

You, for once had no interest on royalty besides movies, you absolutely adored helping Thor prepare for dates with Jane which mean there was no interest. And you had no reprieve on giving Loki a piece of your mind when you felt he deserved it.

He smiled.

“She stayed up singing until late…” Loki mumbled, mostly for himself.

“I think it’s great.” Thor encouraged him. “When are you asking our little singing bird out?”

Loki chuckled, it was amusing to see how much better Thor adapted to Midgard expressions and idioms.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen, brother” Loki said with the hint of a sad smile. “You said it, we’re not exactly each other’s types.”

“It’s true you’re quite the somber one, brother.” Thor teased him. “And our little mortal canary is always loud and bright.”

“Thing I would not and do not tolerate from anyone else” Loki said looking at his uproarious brother. “But she would find me rather dull.”

He never said he found you annoying, quite the opposite. But he could only imagine what his brother had done. He’d seen it far too many times back on Asgard.

When Thor, Volstagg or Fandral wanted to flirt they’d have this ridiculous approach of sending another one of them to mess with the girl they wanted to impress, annoy her into flirting. All harmless fun and always careful not to actually disrespect the maiden in question but Loki still found it annoying and like Hogun preferred a calmer style for the first approach. At least it was funny to see their strategy blow up in their face and more than once get a slap in the face.

Thor must have gone to you and mentioned that Loki thought you were too loud to tease you on his behalf. Not keeping in mind that you were not Asgardian which meant you were not accustomed to their harsher approach, and much less that despite loving to sing you were profoundly conscious about your voice’s volume. Loki had always been very careful about pointing out when your power made you too loud. Gently placing a hand on your thigh to calm you down when you got overexcited and therefore loud.

And yet, despite all of Loki’s effort to make you feel comfortable around him, here you were, with a timid smile with the most thoughtful gift to push Loki away. Thor could officially be crowned as the worst wingman in history of all Nine Realms.

He sighed.

“Dear heart, I don’t think I need this” Loki said gently, “Not for the reason you think, at least.”

“I just thought you could use not hearing me blasting your eardrums when you’re reading” you joked, but the tone of awkwardness was palpable.

“I’d be willing to risk that if you’d believe me, I don’t truly mind hearing you sing” Loki chuckled.

“But my voice… And music taste…”

“Are both beautiful,” Loki interrupted you, “and no one has a wider range of music in the entire Compound. Which I recall someone scolding me for not expanding my horizons to human music.”

“Ah… well, yeah, but you can always get that from the others, oldies from Steve and Bucky, rock from Tony, pop and electronic from Pete, and when Quill and the Guardians you can hear 80’s—”

“Dear, you’re very optimistic I can actually stand anyone you mentioned” Loki laughed. “Not everyone has your luck.”

“And no one else here likes—”

“Aaah!” you shushed him covering his mouth, “We agreed to never talk about my sins. It’s our secret.”

The look you gave him was threatening but sharing a secret with you was exciting and heartwarming. More because it was the most harmless secret, but you still got embarrassed about it, which Loki found beyond endearing.

“Oh, really? I very clearly remember hearing you singing to the top of your lungs this very week to it.”

“Shhh” you whispered as you fought a giggle. “We don’t talk about that, only you get to know.”

“Good to know I’m so special” Loki chuckled.

“You were a happy mistake” you said squinting your eyes in joking manner. “But if anyone else finds out I’m strangling you.”

“What’s the expression you mortals have…?” Loki smirked, “Don’t threaten me with a good time?”

Your cheeks turned hot pink as you smacked his arm with a laugh.

“You’re pain in the ass” you laughed.

“Well, I certainly appreciate having some influence on your backside.”

You let out a screech as you began smacking his arm with a bright blush on your face. But as he should’ve expected your screech was loud and made Loki wince a bit.

“Ah… Sorry” you said as the mumble returned to your voice. “See? That’s what the headphones are good for.”

Loki scowled with a huff.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

Before you had time to ask Loki had thrown you over the ottoman and with his knees pinning you by the shoulders and his feet stuck under the ottoman so there was no force on earth moving you.

“Uhh… Lokes? W-What are you doing?” you asked nervously.

“Testing how loud you can really be.”

What do you— Pfft!”

Loki didn’t make you wait for an answer (or to finish your question, that is), and he began slowly dragging his fingers across your ribs in a maddeningly gentle manner. And it wasn’t like your thin t-shirt didn’t do much to protect you.

You clenched your jaw as a big grin appeared on your face.

“Pfft! L-Loki!” you snickered.

“Yes, little dove?” Loki asked innocently.

Loki kept gently dragging his fingers across your torso, slowly tracing his fingers up and down your sides and ribs, in circular motion across your armpits and spiraling onto the center of your tummy.

All you could do was smack his legs as you tried to free your arms and kicking your legs on the air and your cheeks puffed with your jaw clenched as you did all you could to not burst out laughing.

“L-Loho— Loki please!” you looked like you were about to burst. “I’m behe— I’m begging you. D-Don’t!”

Loki just chuckled.

“Darling, I have not even started the real fun” he grinned deviously, “and you already look like you’re gonna puncture your own lung. Just laugh already.”

“I cahahan’t” you whined between the strangled giggles. “It’ll huhurt yohohou!”

“Beautiful little bird,” Loki smiled, “it’d be impossible for you to hurt me.”

He noticed the pretty rosy blush on your cheeks, and he relished the way you got flustered at his teasing. Loki simply chuckled and squeezed your ribs, now poking your ribs, drilling his fingers between each rib. Growing up both as the God of Mischief and with Thor as his older brother, he had come to know first-hand what kind of tickles were better to make someone laugh to insanity.

And that you did.

Your face was already impossibly red in the face, and giggles were already slipping out, so the poking were just the last straw that made you finally crack up. And you burst into loud laughter and crazy squirming, kicking your legs against the ottoman, arching your back and tugging against Loki’s hold as he tickled you to tears.

“LOKI! HAHAHAHA! W-WAIT! WAHAHAHAIT!” you screeched.

Loki winced a bit at your superhuman volume as a smile formed on his face from both pride from making you laugh and the endearment of your laugh on its own. Your pretty laugh only being further motivation to tickle you more.

But he decided ease off the tickling as he just stopped poking your ribs to gently scribble your ribs in light feather like touches. But by now your defenses were shattered to pieces and you kept giggling in soft wheezing giggles. He simply wiggled two fingers on each side as if he was striking chords of his old lyre.

“Oh gohohohod! How is thahahat so bad?!” you giggled in between hiccups and soft wheezes.

“I don’t think it’s that bad, you’re just that ticklish” he chuckled softly. “Look at you, you’re wheezing.”

“Hehehe! I’m not!” you hiccup. “Lohoki!”

The way you laughed out his name made Loki’s heart flutter in his chest. Your voice got high-pitched and wheezy in a way that was awfully adorable and it urged him to give you the biggest hug and cover your face in kisses and beg you to be his own.

“Loki! I'm gonna gehehet you back for this!” you screamed in a fit of laughter. “Stohohop it!”

Loki grinned without relenting just a bit, simply leaning into your ear.

“Oh, is that so? What makes you think you can get me, little dove?” he chuckles as he gently traced his fingers over your sides. “And do you assume you can get now, or at some later point when you are not trapped and helpless under me? Because all things considered...that sounds like an empty threat… my dear.”

The self-satisfaction in his tone was infuriating.

“You’re all mine to toy around with right now, little robin…” he said in an almost flirtatious tone.

“N-No! Loki! Don’t you dare!” you squeaked out.

He looked you in your eyes with a devious sparkle in his eyes, those same eyes Loki did whenever he got you involved in a prank that would most likely get both of you in trouble, and he smiled.

“I think, my darling…” he whispered softly, in a way he knew his breath would tingle against your skin. “I very much dare.”

And with that his gentle and nimble fingers reached your stomach, giving it a lot of gentle pokes and scribbling all over the skin poorly covered by your thin shirt with his blunt nails.

He knew that among the long list of insecurities you had, your stomach was high up there, and so he knew certain touches would make you uncomfortable, so he kept his eye on your face, paying extra reactions to see if any touch made you upset. But you seemed more focused on the sensation he inflicted on your sensitive skin, and your expressions didn’t reflect any sign of distress.

“Lohohohoki! Stohohop that!” you giggled.

“Aw… is it too much for you?” he grinned cheekily. “You’re quite the delight to torment though, and I wonder… just how would you manage this sort of attention… on the other areas you were ticklish upon.”

As he spoke he lower his hand to drag his fingers over your waistline from side to side in a maddeningly slow manner. The look of shock on your face was priceless.

“LOKI!” you cried.

“Oh my, my, little sparrow, are you ticklish here too?” he chuckled in an almost innocent tone as his finger slipped past your shirt as his nail scraped lightly over the ticklish spot.

But he did slow down, not enough to make it all stop, but enough to make you go back to soft laughs.

“Hm…” Loki looked at you, pretending to be in deep contemplation. “If I didn’t know you any better, I would dare to assume you are enjoying yourself.”

Loki had seen others in the compound tickle you before, he had tickled you before, and it was noticeable enough that you didn’t seem to mind the playful attention, given you hardly fought back or protested when.

You let out an outraged before a squeeze to your hipbones made you burst into giggles after a clearly involuntary snort that made Loki laugh.

“Oh, no witty back talking?” Loki chuckled.

 “Ihihihi! I’m gohohonna kill you!” you threatened him.

“Will you now?” Loki arched an eyebrow. “And how do you intend to do so?”

Rather than having a verbal response, he felt ticklish squeezing over his thighs and above his knees that made him jolt and bark out a laugh. It was enough distraction to make him stop for a moment, and he saw that little triumphant glint in your gaze.

“That was very very bold of you to make an attack like that...” he congratulated you, his tone menacingly impish. “But so far I had been gentle.”

And with that he shot his fingers onto the exposed hollow of your armpits. You immediately lose it when his fingers reach and tickle your underarms, immediately exploding into loud laughter once more.

“NOHOHOHO! NONONONO! LOKI, LOKI PLEASE! NOHOHOHOT THERE!” you squealed. “NAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHAHAHA! PLEEEEHAHAHAHAAHAHA!”

Your voice turned loud, and the walls literally shook around the two of you. But Loki was unscathed, perhaps a bit stunned by the strength of your voice, but he didn’t relent on the tickling.

“Well, that’s cute… but just for your information…” he smirked in a way that, had you been able to see through your tears of laughter would’ve made you weak in the knees. “I am not afraid of your ticklish little fingers.”

He chuckled again, as his fingers wiggling more sporadically, almost vibrating against your skin. You let out a blood curdling scream before your laughter turns silent, your face is red like a tomato and tears just kept streaming nonstop down your face as your body was shaking like a malfunctioning machine, your entire body language making evident that you need a break.

Perhaps that was a good sign that he had to stop. So, he did.

He raised his knees so you could slip your arms from under his legs, and you immediately pressed them against your chest, laughing silently prey of a giggle fit in a state of euphoria.

“Did I just...go too far?” he asked with a sheepish smile. “...I think...I may have gone too far, I apologize if… if I... I— hmpf!”

Before Loki could register what had happened, you had cupped his face and your lips were against his.

It wasn’t exactly the way Loki had pictured kissing you, and by all the Nine Realms had thought about it quite in detail. But this was… quite different from what he had fantasized. Your faces were upside down one from another, and it had happened so fast that you had just got Loki’s bottom lip at first impact, and he had been caught completely off guard.

But oh Gods… this topped every scenario he could’ve mused. Your lips were soft and smooth, and the taste of you… Norns, it was intoxicating, and it made him feel light-hearted, instinctively making close his eyes as melted into the kiss, leaning over to get a better taste of this paradise he had just encountered. He mimicked you as one of his hands reached to cup your cheek and caress it with his thumb.

Who knows how long you were like this, but it was certainly not enough.

But when you broke the kiss the look in your eyes was of shock and terror as you cupped your hands over your mouth.  Again, not what he would’ve expected. He had not got any complaints in his past about his skills, so he was certain he was not a sloppy kisser to be the sole cause of that expression.

“I— no... I didn’t… I uh… I’m sorry…” you mumbled. “I— I wasn’t, oh no…”

“What are you apologizing for?” Loki asked, as he felt anxiety starting to bubble on the pit of his stomach.

“I— I’m sorry… I don’t know what came over me…”  you stuttered and stumbled over your words, “I w-wasn’t thinking… I just… I felt giddy and… No… no, no... I’m sorry…”

Loki felt his brain throbbing inside his skull as you kept sputtering apologizes. A million thoughts rushing over his mind every fraction of a second. Did the kiss meant you liked him? But if you liked him what were you apologizing for? Or did you like him but not enough? Were you aware of all the feelings you stirred in him? Was this a cruel joke?

Before he realized what his body was doing, he had already smashed his mouth onto yours once more.

He wasn’t sure why he did that. Maybe desire. Perhaps just the panic of thinking that could’ve been the last time he tasted something quite as ineffable as you ever again and he refused to give it up so soon. Or he could simply have gone mad. Whatever the reason, he just prayed you didn’t hate him after this.

But to his surprise, you kissed him back, and he felt once again that peculiar wave of peace and simultaneous thrill running through his veins. Now pleasantly complemented by your fingers running through his hair, making him turn into putty in your hands. This time the kiss lasted much longer than the first.

Not that it left Loki quite satisfied… yet.

“S-So… Do I take this as a good sign that you maybe, sort of, kinda like me too?” you asked timidly.

Loki could help but laugh at that.

“I will dare to say so” he rolled his eyes, unable to hide the smile on his face.

“And that we could do that thing again… t-the kissing?”

Norns, his heart was gonna beat out of his chest.

“I would like that” he smiled.

You pressed your lips against his and that rush of excitement ran through him once again. Loki felt your lips buzzing as he heard the muffled laughs through the kiss, it made him laugh as well.

“What’s so funny?” he chuckled.

“Nothing” you giggled, “I just feel your smile.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I feel your smile curled up in a smile.” You explained. “It feels… nice.”

His cheeks lit up and he just shook his head with a smile before diving in for another kiss.

You were right, you could feel the other’s smile when you kissed. How did Loki never notice a detail as simple as that? It felt so lovely. Even more with the little hum-like muffled laughs bubbling from your throat as you kissed. Hearing your happy nervous laughs through the kiss was the loveliest sound he had ever heard.

| Masterpost |

[inneedofsupervision]

Movie Night? No, thank you.

Summary: Some obvious downsides are coming with enhanced senses, but you'll get used to it. The spidey sense thought that has not given Peter any trouble. It quickly became one of his favorite abilities. Until now. Until the Avengers thought, "Hey, let's watch a horror movie with the barely old enough teen in our team".

Peter quickly comes to an insight. Watching horror movies with a spidey sense?

Ten out of ten can not recommend it.

TW: They are watching a horror movie so there are mentions of violence, blood, and injuries, if that's not for you, skip the beginning.

She's running.

Running as fast as she can.

The stench of blood, vomit, and sweat that had made it hard to keep from giving up the last contents of her stomach has grown to be her slightest concern as she stumbles past weathered stone walls and destroyed doors.

"Elli! Elli, where are you?"

A sharp scream escapes her as she misses a step. With an earsplitting noise, the plank she stepped on yields under her weight, and she promptly sails along the rest of the floor plates down into the dark. A sickening squelch reaches the edge of the hole as a flood of hot, biting, breath-stealing pain forces an almost inhuman howl out of her before choking noises emit the frantic attempt to breathe through the pain. But she cannot stop. She needs to find Elli. Tears of dread run over her dirt-smeared cheeks as she claws at the walls to get up.

"Elli," the woman moaned in pain as she fought the urge to break right here and now.

"I'm coming, Elli. I won't leave you here."

She's breathing heavily. Her eyes gloss over, and the last flicker of light dims as she ignores the rusty pipe that had bored through her tight, staring at the wall looming over her. Elli. She has only thoughts for Elli.

With little strength left, the woman begins digging her nails into the moist wood before setting her uninjured foot onto a tiny ledge as she climbs. Her breathing and the blood pulsing in her head are the only sounds she can focus on as she fights herself upwards, needing to get Elli. As she almost made it out, her fingers claw into the ground frantically, grabbing desperately for anything to hold onto and pull herself up. Her hand wraps around something solid, and she doesn't think. She needs to get out, so she pulls and finally, finally makes it over the edge. With a cough and gasping for air, she collapses onto the floor, the blood that oozing out of the wound colors her jeans a dirty red. Sweat-matted hair falls over hunched shoulders as she dry heaves, body shaking with utter exhaustion.

"I'm coming, Elli." The words are mumbled, barely brought over cracked lips. Her breath hitches as a spasm shoots through her hand into her arm, and she glances at it as it begins cramping from how hard she is still holding onto her lifeline.

The lifeline.

"What-" she mutters as her eyes catch onto the object she's clinging to, which turns out to be a blood-stained boot.

"It's him," whispers Peter to no one in particular as he stares wide-eyed at the screen, watching the woman's eyes, caught in a full shot, gazing up at the pantleg that follows the boot until the realization hits her. He grimaces at the terrified scream that echoes through the room and squints his eyes as the axe comes crashing down.

"How could she not tell she was grabbing the boot of the killer? What kind of bullshit is this?!" Peter longingly looks over to Clint, who throws popcorn in the direction of the screen while protesting about the logic of the second lead character.

"As if you were any smarter than her."

Sam throws a pillow at the archer, Peter's pillow. The only thing that had shielded him from, well, he wasn't sure why he was hugging it, but it had brought some comfort. That was until Sam decided to fling it at Clint, who sputters as it's hitting him at the side of his head.

"Can both of you get a grip," grumbles Bucky from next to Peter's other side. He gets a fistful of popcorn thrown at him as an answer. Some of it lands on the teen, as well. Without his pillow, Peter's hands find each other on his lap, where they crawl into the sleeve of the opposite arm. At least like this, he could cross his arms over his chest and not look as much like he's hugging himself. His eyes wander over from the screen to Clint again, just in time for the killer to chase after another victim. His jaw tightens at the screams.

He hadn't always had this much trouble watching horror movies. Sure, he would get a bit spooked, but since the spider bite, it got worse. The suspense subconsciously triggers his sense of danger, leaving him extra jumpy. It doesn't get better with the rest of his senses sharpening to make him more aware of his surroundings, causing Peter to struggle even more to refrain from flinching at every loud noise. Clint shifts in his love-seat, arm thrown over the backrest as he relaxes into the cushion. For the last ten minutes, Peter had thought about excuses to change positions. He felt incredibly out of place, squished between Bucky and Sam, and wished Mr. Stark was here and not away on some gala with Pepper.

Mr. Stark would make him feel better.

The man would pull his arm around his shoulder, and the second he senses Peter jumping again, he would say that the movie sucks and suggest watching that terrible show about celebrities showing off their properties. He roasts their room decor, criticizing until Peter hits his shoulder to make him stop because he cannot stop laughing. Tony would grin, amused, and keep insulting someone else pointlessly expensive and ugly kitchen sink while Peter next to him chortles at the colorful slander. But Mr. Stark isn't here. His last resort for feeling a little better would be Clint. If he only could get up and walk over to the archer, he was very optimistic the other would sense his discomfort. Maybe not as fast as Mr. Stark, but Peter had noticed that, despite the teasing, Clint had a soft spot for him. The man would put his arm around Peter's shoulder in a half hug, claiming to need something to hold onto, joking that the movie was scarier than he remembered. Clint's great like that.

But Clint also sits at the other end of the room, completely draped all over the place and leaving little space to squeeze into. And even if there were room, Peter would need a reason to go over without embarrassing himself. Stuck between Sam and Bucky, still bickering, Peter pulls his hands out of his sleeves and debates if he should pull his knees onto the couch. Like that, he could always hug them to his chest to compensate for the loss of the pillow. But that could draw attention to him, and Peter didn't want to get teased. Maybe if he slowly starts with one leg? The teen keeps shifting in his seat, trying to act composed and not noticing that his constant moving caught the attention of the men sitting next to him.

"You've gotta say something?"

"Huh?" is Peter's eloquent answer.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You're squirming around like you're sitting on hot coals. Something the matter?"

"Oh, I kinda need to go to the toilett."

The movie halts. Bucky looks at him with a frown, remote in hand.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks, gesturing for Peter to hurry up. The teen suppresses a groan. He hoped they would leave the movie playing. How is he supposed to stall time now? He half-heartedly gets up, wondering how long he should take since he didn't actually need to go.

"He's a little out of it today."

Steve carries a frown as he glances over his shoulder, where the teen has shuffled out of the room.

"Probably some teenage angst because of his finals coming up," comments Sam nonchalantly, head leaning onto his palm. "He will get over it." Steve doesn't look happy but seems to accept the plucked-out-of-thin-air explanation as he settles down again. Sam glances to the side. His and Bucky's eyes meet, and Sam rolls his eyes, wondering what he has done in his past life to be surrounded by these overpowered worrywarts as the ex-assassins expression told him he didn't believe one word. When Peter returns from his unplanned bathroom break, he stops, eyebrows rising at the scene before him. There was popcorn. Lots of it, everywhere. "What happened here?" he asks puzzled. "Clint said Sam wouldn't notice a killer standing in front of him even when he is about to get stabbed," explains Natasha, who doesn't bother looking up from her phone while Clint shields himself with a blanket to avoid the onslaught of popcorn getting thrown at him. "Okay," says Peter slowly, drawing the word out and giving the fighting men a confused side-eye as he walks over to Bucky. The latter looks about to get up at any second to end the chaos himself. "That's it," cheers Sam as Clint protests when the blanket gets ripped out of his hands. Peter glances at the soft fabric thrown onto his lap and brushes off the few crumbs sticking on it. Sam stands triumphantly over Clint, who, very maturely, sticks his tongue out at the man. Sam dumps the rest of the popcorn over the archer's head. "Jokes on you if you think I wouldn't eat the popcorn like this." Clint runs a hand through his hair, sending kernels onto the couch. "What are you, a raccoon?" Clint flips him off and bends down to take the fallen pillow, but Sam is quicker and kicks it out of the archer's reach. Clint doesn't look like he cares much as Sam bends down to take the pillow and thrusts it into Peter's arms. "Keep that before he gets any dumb ideas," orders Sam as he sits back down. Not only having gained a blanket but also a pillow, Peter only nods before taking the pillow, hugging it to his chest. He throws the blanket over it, pulling it closer around himself. "I will keep them safe," he says. The seriousness in his voice causes Steve to throw the bundled-up teen an amused look. The movie continues, and so does Peter's fidgeting and shifting. The blanket and pillow were a great distraction, making him feel slightly less over the edge as he could squeeze the cushion when the sounds from the movie got too much. But the suspense still sucks. His spidey sense wouldn't shut up, and he knew that's the whole point of watching a horror movie, to put the audience on the edge, fearing what would happen next. But usually, the audience doesn't own a sixth sense warning them about something that's about to happen, which is great for them because Peter could attest that having one and watching a horror movie is one of the most inconvenient

downsides in everyday life that can happen. They are only half an hour into the movie as Peter's knuckles grow white with how hard he's fisting them into the blanket. His eyes stick to the screen where the protagonist climbs over the beat-up fence to search the abandoned mansion for their lost friend. At the sound of a door slamming, the protagonist and Peter gasp simultaneously in shock, and the fabric under his fingers tears as he unwillingly grabs the blanket harder. He stares blankly at the destroyed fabric in his hands, hoping Mr. Stark won't be too mad. With stealthy movements, he rolls up the edge of the blanket, acting like nothing happened.

His leg bounces up and down as he debates come clean and asks if they could watch something else as another door slams shut. The woman walks down a dimly lit hallway. The music grows ominous, the camera focusing on the shaky hand going for the tarnished doorknob. Peter's leg shakes harder. He is about to open his mouth and tell the others he has forgotten some schoolwork he needs to do to Monday, when something flutters over his neck.

He twitches, instinctively scrunching his shoulders up, like a turtle caught of guard. His eyes break from the screen to look at Bucky, whose arm retreats from behind his head.

"You had this in your hair."

Peter blinks stunned at the man. Bucky lifts his hand and wordlessly lets a piece of popcorn fall onto Peter's lap. On-screen, the woman passes the door and walks up a staircase, following a bloody trail.

"Thanks," mumbles Peter, but it sounds more like a question. Bucky doesn't say anything, which isn't less confusing as the teen isn't sure how to interpret the man's gesture. The ex-soldier is hard to read. Peter runs his hand through his hair, but thankfully, he hasn't any more food stuck there.

"Attics and basements are equally bad choices," comments Clint with enviable serenity while munching on the popcorn he picks from his clothes, successfully shifting the attention back onto the movie where a blood-drawn arrow points towards the handle of a loft ladder. Peter doesn't even want to see what is about to happen, unconsciously shifting back so he can barely peek over his knees. The teen retreats his arms around his legs, the cushion pressing against his chest at the action. Squinting his eyes, he watches with tense shoulders as the woman steps onto the ladder, climbing up into the dark.

"What the heck?" hisses Sam as something bumps into him rather forcefully. With a frown, he stares down at the blanket burrito of a teen who wears a flustered expression. To Sam's confusion, the blushing teen doesn't pay mind to the one-sided fight on the screen but gapes at Bucky, who has his head turned towards the TV, looking as uninvested as he did since the beginning.

"What's up with you?" asks Sam, bewildered. He lowers his voice, noticing that the others hadn't seen what was happening. "You plan to jump on the ceiling next?"

"Bucky, he-" began the younger to defend himself but quickly clapped his mouth shut as said man turned his head to him, raising a single eyebrow. Sam's confusion grows as the kid honest-to-god pouts. "Never mind," mutters Peter, crossing his arms over his chest, but Sam sees him giving the long haired man a wary side-eye. Sam glances over the teen's head, catching Bucky's eyes. Bucky's lips twitch upwards. Sam shakes his head but keeps from saying anything.

Two could play that game.

Sam keeps paying only half of his attention to the movie, trying to catch up on what is going on between the two idiots next to him. It doesn't take long for him to figure out the pattern. As the suspense rose, so did the tension in Peter’s posture. Sam glances over to Bucky, catching the man's smug expression as he slightly shifts his arm. "Oh no, you don't," thought Sam, squinting his eyes. Peter barely stifles the tiny scream by smushing his face into the pillow as, out of nowhere, a hand claws into his side, digging their fingers into the soft spot under his ribs. Simultaneously, his left armpit gets attacked by a set of fingers worming their way into it, wriggling around experimentally. He jolts at the ticklish bold shooting through his nerves and lets himself fall to the side to avoid the feeling. He puts a hand on Bucky's knee, catching himself before he could stumble off the couch. "What's gotten you so jumpy today?" Peter's head whips in Sam's direction, the protest laying on the tip of his tongue, but as he opens his mouth, the only sound coming out is an embarrassing squeak as a finger pokes him in the stomach, making him jump and nearly hit his face against Bucky's chin. He slaps the offending metal digit away. "You guys suck," mumbles Peter as he straightens himself and crosses his arms protectively around his middle, sending them both a glare. "What did you just say?" Sam mock-threateningly wriggles his fingers in the teen's direction, but Peter catches the hand, holding it tight and only letting go after hearing a whispered plea. He gives the man a side-eye but lets Sam go and leans back onto the couch. To Peter's horror, it didn't end like that. Through the next twenty minutes, his whole attention got stolen by the men he gets nearly squished by, wary of every one of their movements. He wasn't paying attention to anything happening on the screen. Instead, he was busy catching sneaking fingers or batting hands away that reached out to poke him randomly. The pillow and blanket were lying abandoned in front of the couch. Toward the end of the movie, the attacks relent, and his focus is back on the screen where the main protagonist finds her beaten-down friend locked away in the basement, chained to a chair, desperately searching for anything to break the locks open. The camera zooms out at a low pace, slowly revealing more and more of the room. Peter's eyes are stuck on the barely lit corner behind the panicking women, his spidey sense spiking again. He hadn't even noticed that his sixth sense at some point had stopped reacting, only now since it’s beginning to buzz louder than ever. He subconsciously pulls his knees up, curling into himself, when suddenly something pushes him to the side. With a surprised yelp, he tips over, falling onto Sam's legs that the man had put on the couch table. "That's it. I'm done.” Sam throws his arms up in defeat. He flicks a finger against Peter’s forehead.

“You can't sit still for a minute, can you?"

The teen rubs his head with a frown, glaring up at Sam. "That wasn't my fault, it's Bucky! He push-AH!" Peter had been trying to climb down off Sam's legs as he was protesting about being falsely accused when he lost his balance thanks to a pair of hands grabbing his ankles. "You aren't the only one getting annoyed by his fidgeting," grumbles Bucky as he tugs on the teen's legs until Peter lies stretched out on the men's laps, glaring at them both for acting like jerks. "You two are so childish, you know that?" Peter growls and tries shifting and rolling off their legs, but an arm around his waist keeps him from going anywhere. "You distract us during the whole movie, and we are the childish ones?" Sam somehow manages to keep a straight face despite the betrayed and grumpy puppy look the teen's sending them. "Sorry kid but I cannot let that sit." He reaches his hands out, ready to continue where he laid off during the middle of the movie. He catches the teen's lips twitching upwards, a nervous slip of anticipation. "Stop it, Sam." Peter tries to sound stern. But that's kinda hard when you get pinned down by a super soldier and his annoying friend who decide, that they have nothing better to do than start teasing you. At this point, the movie caught no one's interest as all eyes glanced at the one-sided tickle fight breaking out on the couch.

“I hahahaven’t dohone anythihining!”

“You were squirming around and bumping into us the whole time. Neither me nor Bucky could concentrate cause of your fidgeting.”

“Thahat’s becauhse youhu kehept tickling mehehe!” protests the teen.

“Me?” asks Sam with acted surprise while holding one of Peter’s wrists down to attack his sides, causing the teen to try curling into himself, laughing loudly but failing thanks to the Super Soldier holding onto his legs “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

When Peter manages to finally capture Sam's hands and was about to slide off the sofa, a second pair of hands start squeezing right above his kneecaps. “Dohohoh’t!” he brings out between his laughter and tries kicking his legs away, but the teasing hands follow expertly. Peter bends over to fend the mean fingers off but makes the mistake of revealing his entire upper body. Sam doesn't wait, digging his fingers into the teen's armpits from behind. With a cackle, Peter falls back onto Sam's lap, where the older man takes the chance to claw into the teen's stomach and ribs, and the whole routine begins anew. By the end of it, Peter lies curled up between the two, red-faced and giggling as he tries catching both their hands, the ending credits of the movie rolling over the screen.

"Peter, the Boss is calling."

Several eyebrows rise in amusement at the speed at which the teen is up and pushes Sam half of the couch to grab his phone.

"Hey kid- did you run a marathon to reach your phone? What happened to your face?"

Peter's face flashes a new shade of red. He glares at Sam and Bucky who make kissy faces in his direction. The teen smiles sweetly at Mr. Stark before he holds a hand over the front camera and turns back, sticking out his tongue in their direction which earns a snort from Clint and a laugh from Steve and Natasha.

"Why did you cover the camera, kid? You're not hiding a house party, are you?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. I just thought there was some dust on the lens. I’m with the others, we were watching a movie."

Sam shakes his head as he watches the interaction. "What a sneaky little-ow, what the hell!"

He rubs his shoulder, sending Bucky a glare.

Clint across from them wears a smug grin.

"You two are soft like soggy biscuits."

Sam grimaces while Bucky throws the pillow back at the cackling archer.

"It probably counts as a failure of assistance to let the kid sit next to you and get nightmares by watching this kinda stuff," argues Sam, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve huffs in amusement. Their heads turn towards Peter, who animatedly talks as he walks past them and towards his room, a smile painting his face.

"I don't think he's going to get nightmares," the blond says before glancing back at his friends. He grins, looking weirdly proud.

"Thanks to you two."

Read on Ao3

[angelatmidnight1]

hi! i’m always so happy to see bg3 fans in the community :) your wyll and astarion headcanons are adorable and i couldn’t agree more with them! if you’re up for it, i was wondering your opinions on karlach and if you have any hcs for her? i’m surprised at what little content there’s been for her bc she just gives the sweetest switch vibes imo - a goofball and canonically touch starved 🥺 but ofc if she’s not your cup of tea that’s okay too! just thought i’d ask <3 have a good one!

A/N: Thank you 😊. And, I adore Karlach. She's such a sweetheart and is easily one of my favorite characters. I hope these headcanons are to your liking! I tried hard to do her personality justice. These contain minor spoilers for Act 2.

Karlach Tickle Headcanons- Ler and Lee

"Aww. You're ticklish, soldier?"

Ler-

After her second upgrade, Karlach doesn’t hold back from physical contact. Hugs, handshakes, and tickles are all on the table. 

Ten years is a long time to go without a friendly touch, and Karlach is determined to get her fill with a willing participant. For so long, her hands were used for fighting…now, she can scoop someone up in her arms and hug them for as long as possible.

 Karlach’s eyes sparkle with glee when she discovers that someone’s ticklish. And, the smile on her face could chase away the darkest shadows. “You didn’t tell me you were ticklish! We could’ve been having loads more fun!”

Karlach’s style of tickling is to quickly poke all over her lee’s body until they’re hunched over with giggles. Then, she’s more than happy to pick them up and continue tickling with them in her arms.

There’d be little physical space between Karlach and her lee; she’d all but forgotten how good it felt to hold someone in her arms. Amidst her tickles, she’ll affectionately squeeze and nuzzle her lee, drinking in their laughter and the warmth of their skin. And good luck escaping her embrace; she is as strong as she is touch starved.

Karlach giggles along with her lees and doesn’t miss an opportunity to compliment their laugh or, better yet, their blushy faces. “Gods, your laugh is so cute. I could listen to it all day.”

She’s not shy or subtle about tickling others and will go right up to her intended lee with an excited grin. “Hey, you. A little birdie told me that you’re ticklish. Mind if I test that out~?”

She gets a kick out of her lees tickling her in retaliation, but be warned: doing so will unleash the tickle monster that is Karlach.”Oho, it’s like that, is it?”

Leave it to Karlach to cheer up the camp and/or certain members of the party with tickles. If she can lighten the moods of those she cares about, she’s all for it.

Karlach is open to tickling multiple lees at once, or having others join her when she’s tickling someone. Nothing makes her happier than being tangled up in the arms of her companions with laughter in the air. 

Lee-

Karlach is a shameless lee; she enjoys being tickled and is incredibly ticklish. 

She loves the closeness and the silliness that comes with tickling. Once her engine is cooled down, she is as open to being tickled as she is to tickling others. 

She isn’t above asking to be tickled but, most of the time, she enjoys playfully pestering her ‘lers into tickling her. She’ll ‘accidentally’ bump into someone and make them tumble down a hill, or hide someone’s stuff with a clear indication that she 100% knows where it is. All the while, she’ll grin smugly, challenging her ‘ler to do something about it.

Karlach will try to tickle her ‘ler back in retaliation, but will ultimately fall into an incapacitating giggle fit. 

She has a loud, infectious laugh and definitely snorts. And, instead of stopping her ‘ler, she will wrap her arms around her torso or pound her fists against the ground. Even with a cooled down engine, Karlach doesn’t want to run the risk of accidentally hurting someone. 

She scrunches her nose when she laughs and swears when her ‘ler finds an especially ticklish spot. Those spots are her thighs, underarms, and hips. 

Karlach squirms a lot when tickled; her ‘ler will certainly be in for a ride. She’ll do her best not to throw them off, but they’ll have to hold on tight. 

Air tickles and anticipatory tickles are very effective; she doesn’t need to be touched right away to laugh herself silly. But, the longer her ‘ler doesn’t tickle her, the antsier she’ll get, until she tries to launch a tickle attack of her own. 

Ticklish kisses and/or raspberries work wonders on her, too. She’s unfamiliar with them, but they never fail to get giggles out of her. 

Karlach will want to cuddle after being tickled. Her engine may initially run hot, but it cools down to a comforting warmth that feels great to be wrapped up in.

[il0veyoujk]

Soldier! Attack!

This is a tickle-related ff, if you are not interested in it, please keep scrolling

Summary: Jungkook returns home from his military service to see his little sister, Nefeli (18)

Warnings: None

Notes: This ff is requested by the beautiful @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae ! I hope you'll like it love! I am sorry I couldn't do it a cheer-up ff, but I remembered it last second, and I couldn't change it, I had to rewrite the whole ff 😭

Lots of love Nef 💕

The sound of the front door shutting wasn't enough to pierce the sound of the loud music Nefeli was busting through her headphones. The young girl was currently in her room, pretending to study. In reality, she was vibing to her favorite music, with her Spanish book widely open in front of her, and her homework waiting.

Nefeli was wiggling her body to the rhythm of the music, feeling like she owned the world. Using her pen as a microphone, she pretended to be the singer and headbanging unstoppably. Just like she used to when she was a little girl.

"We are home!" her parents yelled the moment they stepped home "Nefeli! We have a surprise for you!" her mum used her singsong voice to allure her daughter into coming downstairs.

One, two, three minutes... Nefeli was nowhere to be seen. She was so drowned in her music she hadn't heard anything. Looking at each other, the two middle-aged ones decided to send the surprise to their daughter.

Nefeli was occasionally trying to focus on her exercises, trying to conjugate the verb cosquillear, but the loud Lady Gaga music was too intense to ler her focus. Vibing excitedly, she was enjoying herself way too much to notice an unexpected change in her room.

However, turning her head, the young girl was shocked to see her older brother leaning on the doorframe smirking "Why hello there girly" Jungkook chuckled, amused.

It's been a year since Jungkook left for his military service. He hadn't seen his family all this time. Even though they communicated with letters, it's not the same as seeing each other in real life.

"Eeek! You are home!" Nefeli squealed. She instantly jumped on her brother, letting her headphones fall on the floor "I missed you so much!"

Catching her, Jungkook let out a small groan along with a small giggle "Hehey! I missed you too, little one!" he smiled softly, gently swinging his little sister in the air back and forth.

The two siblings remained all hugged for a while, not bothering to even move a single inch from the spot the young lad was standing "So you still got the moves huh?" Jungkook scrunched his nose cutely and bounced her gently in the air like he used to when she was younger.

"You think?" Nefeli giggled, as she was squishing her brother's cheeks "I had the best teacher!" she smiled widely.

It was true, Nefeli had learned how to sync with the rhythm through BTS video clips. Ever since she was a kid, she would try to copy every choreography her brother and his friends would publish. She had ever mastered some of them! And Jungkook was so proud of her.

A wide, bunny-toothy grin appeared on Jungkook's face. He gently placed a kiss on her cheek and hug her tighter "Aw thank you little one" he giggled softly.

A small smirk though flashed onto Nefeli's face, who giggled softly "Oh I meant Jimin, not you" she shrugged, trying not to show her teasing sense.

However, the small smirk turned into a full-on giggly state the moment Jungkook's fingers started wiggling around on Nefeli's ribs "Oh really? Jimin huh? Not me?" he asked in the most mischievous, warning tone he has ever used.

The surprising, way too missed feeling on her sides, made the young girl erupt into an unexpected loud fit of giggles "Whahahaha--- wait nohohoho pleahahase ahahaha!" she squealed as she was thrashing around in her brother's grip, trying to push herself out of there.

The two siblings would occasionally have tickle fights, usually with the young girl ending up on the receiving end. But it was their dynamic. They loved those cute little fights!

Nefeli failed miserably to escape her brother's arms. Much to her surprise. Usually she would manage after one or two tries. Yet, this time she didn't.

Chuckling mockingly next to his little sister's cheek, Jungkook moved his fingers to Nefeli's favorite, and worst spot: the sides! He started walking towards his own bedroom, letting her now hysterical giggles fill the whole house "You should know better than to tease a soldier, cutiepie!" Jungkook teased, as he was tasering the poor girl's sides.

"Nohohoho stohohop ahahaha! Whahahat did I do ahahaha?!" Nefeli screamed between her loud giggles. She was flailing around in the air in her attempt to fall off of her brother and run away for dear life.

Of course though, that didn't happen. It was nowhere close to happening!

"Oh stop screaming, Nef! You know it's going to happen, stop fighting it" Jungkook used his singsong voice to tease his little sister as he was throwing his sack on the floor and closing the door behind him.

"He's tickling her again" mrs Jeon smiled to herself as she was preparing dinner downstairs. Homemade pepperoni pizza! Jungkook's favorite.

"It's not like she's complaining though. She loves it!" mr Jeon commented as he was reading his newspaper. Yes, the historical tickle fights in the Jeon residence were well-known in the whole neighborhood.

Upstairs in Jungkook's room, Nefeli was trying to fight to escape the ticklish hell she was put into. She was thrown onto the bed and Jungkook was pinning her down with his own body weight and was torturing her poor tummy with his fingertips "Aww you are just as I ticklish as I remembered!" he giggles as his fingertips were shaking on her tummy like crazy.

A deep blush had started spreading on her cheeks as Nefeli was trying to push his hands away all shy "I ahahaham nahahaot ticklish ahaha-AHAHAHA NAHAHAHAO AHAHAHA!!!" she tried to lie... but a few nibbles on her side made the poor girl go ballistic!

Jungkook knew what he was doing... Pretty well! Using her worst against her... "I am sorry what? Did you just dare to lie, little one? Huh?" he smirked widely before moving his nails on her poor armpits and started scribbling on them like crazy.

Instantly pressing her arms on her torso, Nefeli trapped Jungkook's fingers under her armpits, unfortunately for her "Whyhyhy did you cohohome bahahahack so meahahan ahahaha?!" she squealed through her loud giggling.

"Oh no... Now I have to dig my way out... You are so rude" the young lad was enjoying the playful torture he was giving his little sister to the fullest. Not that Nefeli wasn't... but maybe Jungkook was enjoying this a bit more. He had missed her laughter... So here he was now, digging into his little sister's armpits mercilessly, making Nefeli howl in loud giggling and driving her crazy bit by bit.

"Agh!" Nefeli squealed loudly as she was wiggling around like a worm "Nohoho pleahahahase ahahaha I ahaham sorry ahahaha!" she pleaded as her hands were gripping onto her brother's wrists to pull them away from her.

"Oh no no no no no no, you are not getting away with just a few begs" the young lad smirked as he lowered his head again towards her tummy "You are going to regret choosing Jimin over me!"

And that's where Nefeli lost it... She widened her eyes, but before she could even ask for mercy, she instantly felt tiny shots of electricity hitting her unstoppably and all over her midsection, exposed as it was from squirming around too much "NOHOHOHO NOT THE BEHEHEHERRIES KOOK PLEAHAHASE AHAHAHA I AHAHAHAM SORRY!" she screamed in laughter, throwing her head back in ticklish agony.

Jungkook was shaking his own head on Nefeli's tummy to add more to the ticklish sensations. A few chuckles would escape his mouth while he was blowing raspberries all over Nefeli's midsection "Oh so now we're using nicknames huh? Such a cheap way to escape your punishment, little one..." he mumbled on Nefeli's soft skin.

This situation kept on for about three more minutes. Having moved his fingers to her sides, Jungkook wasn't planning on showing any hint of mercy any time soon... The whole house was filled with hysterical laughter and nonstop begging from Nefeli's way too ticklish reactions.

However, a well-known voice interrupted the playful assault of the Jeon siblings "Kids! Dinner's ready!" mrs Jeon yelled for her children.

Everything stopped instantly. Jungkook let go of his little sister in an instant and pulled away. It's been months since he's eaten his favorite food! "This isn't over..." he mumbled, poking a few times Nefeli's tummy and sides before eventually letting her go "I just have to gain some more energy for round two... You better disappear!" he smirked, winking at his little sister.

As Jungkook ran downstairs to grab a bite, Nefeli remained on his bed in a ticklish delirium, with a wide smile on her face. She was trying to catch her breath hopelessly, as a few leftover giggles were leaving her mouth.

Jungkook made his case clear... She better hide!

[hearted-anon]

Humble beginnings, bold confessions part 2.

Words: ?

Note: ?

T/w: at your own risk

Lee: ?

Ler: ?

“Give him back!” Minho wails, but has no luck freeing himself from the soldiers grip as he struggles on the floor. Cold metal clangs against his legs as a sword was placed under his chin, forcing himself to face such vermin of a man. He pulls, tugs, at the arms of the army men but it does nothing to quell the raging storm in his heart.

“I’ll..be okay..” Chan reassures from the other side, coughing and gasping as another slash was delivered. Feeling his vision blur, he collapses to the ground with a soft thud, the carpet saving his fall, and his blood. The king practically screams, tears of agony dripping down his cheeks as he fails to save who he really loves.

“Come save him if you really mean it.” He muttered before the men tossed him to the ground pathetically, not saying of another word before the castle went silent.

[duckymcdoorknob]

𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝔂 15: 𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮 𝓕𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

Closest gif I could get of the two together 😭😭

Happy tkember and almost tkcember, chat!

I am loving one piece so far and I’m gonna make it everyone’s problem.

I’m listening to Ado rn :)

I had to throw in a little bit of ler Zoro bc have you seen him.

—This do have tickles below the cut ngl—

Tags: @chrimsss @trrickytickle @trans-ace-lee @giggly-squiggily @switch-writer

“I’m boooooooooored!” Luffy whined, hanging upside down on the bow of the ship. “Someone come play a game with me.”

“Busy,” the long-nosed pirate murmured, tinkering with some kind of device.

“But Usoooooooopp!” The captain moaned in agony.

How was he supposed to survive in these conditions? God gives his toughest battles to his silliest soldiers…

A glint of joy sparkled in his eye in a moment’s notice. “Hey! Wanna have a tickle fight?!”

The gunner visibly tensed, clamping his arms down to his sides. “No way! I’m- I’m working on something!”

“But you’re so fun to play games with! And I have to know if you’re ticklish!!”

Growing more flustered and frustrated, Usopp barked out an absentminded response. “Come over and make me then!”

“Hehe, okay,” Luffy replied with a Cheshire grin. He stretched his arm out to grab the pole next to his crewmate, letting his body cling to said position.

A small squeak left the gunner as his eyes widened. “Uh… h-hi.”

“Hi!” The stretchy boy cooed, “betcha’ forgot I could do that, huh?”

Usopp did not like the menacing look that was glinting in his captain’s eyes. He shifted apprehensively as he slowly tried to step back. He looked for an exit, eyes darting drastically around the ship. He locked onto Sanji serving some kind of snack to Zoro and Nami, opting to break into a full sprint toward the three.

“SAVE MEEEE! SAAAAAVE MEEEE!!!!!”

Six concerned eyes snapped to the frantic Usopp, who was running from a sadistically smiling Luffy. The three relaxed, realizing that Usopp wasn’t actually in any real danger.

“Well, what did you do to piss him off?” Zoro asked as the curly-haired male jumped onto him. “H-Hey! What are you-“ Instinctively, his arms closed securely around his shipmate.

“Zoroooo, he’s gonna kill me!” Usopp cried, drastically hugging the burly man holding him.

“NUH UH!” The captain called after them, making his way over, “I told you, I just wanted to have a tickle fight!”

“And I said I was- HYEAH!”

The long-nosed pirate was cut off by sudden, repeated pinches to his hips, jumping a bit in the swordsman’s tight hold. “H-Hey- EEP! S-Stahap Zoro!”

“What? I’m not doin’ nothin’… Jeez…”

“B-Buhut you a-ahare!”

“Hey! No fair! I was supposed to tickle him!!” Luffy whined, pouting with his arms crossed.

“Oh yeah? Well-“ Zoro hooked his arms under the gunner’s biceps, causing the latter to kick his feet in defense. “Go for it, Captain.”

That glint of joy and menace found its way back, with Luffy settling in front of his shipmates and reaching up to wiggle his fingers at their gunner.

“Waitwaitwaitwait! Can’t we talk about this?!?! I’m sure we can make some kind of ar-ahahahangemehehent! Nohohoho!”

The captain giggled along with Usopp as he spidered his fingers along the long-nosed pirate’s sides.

“Luhuhuffyhyhy! Zohohohoro! Stahahap!”

“Stop? Already? But this is supposed to be a tickle fight!” Luffy cooed, squishing the soft torso of their gunner.

“Yohohou’rehehe uhuhunfahahair! Luhuhuhuffyhyhy!”

“Unfair?! You can get me back anytime you want; I’ll even tell you that I’m most ticklish on my ribs! Hey… speaking of which…”

Usopp’s eyes shot open as he felt Luffy’s fingers worm up onto his ribcage. He kicked his feet drastically, accidentally slamming his ankle down on his captain’s shoulder. “LUHUHUFFYHYHY! HYEAHAHAHAHA!”

“Yeowch… No need to get so violent with him, Usopp.” Zoro quipped, clamping his own arms to his sides and trapping the latter’s there. He spidered his fingers under both of the gunner’s arms, cracking an evil smile.

“NGHAHAHAHA! GUHUHUHUYS!” The curly-haired pirate squealed as he threw his head back onto Zoro’s shoulder.

“This tickle fight seems pretty one-sided to me,” Nami quipped, casually chewing on a piece of cheese.

“Just glad it isn’t me,” Sanji retorted quickly, shifting a bit.

The two locked eyes… oh shit.

“MEHEHEHRCYHYHY!! I CAHAHAHANT TAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT! TOO MUHUHUHUCH!!” Usopp cried, head unmoving from Zoro’s shoulder.

Zoro ceased his attack, freeing the long-nosed pirate’s arms.

“LUHUHUHUFFYHYHY PLEHEHEHEASE! M’GOHOHONNA DIHIHIHIE!”

“Hey, enough kid.” Zoro scooped up the winded Usopp, whisking him away to safety.

“Oh man! I didn’t know that you were so ticklish, Usopp! That was fun!”

“F-for YOU! I thought I was gonna die you motherf-“

Sanji whizzed past the three of them, Nami hot on their heels. “NAMI NO- WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS!”

“You’d think with such long legs that you’d be able to outrun me, Sanji!” The orange-haired girl chimed as she tackled the chef, her fingers finding refuge squeezing at the blonde’s thighs.

“Heh, get his ass Nami!” Zoro called, still absentmindedly cradling Usopp in a safe embrace.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————