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inneedofsupervision · 5 months ago

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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

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harrystylesboobear · 1 year ago

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Winning hand

First fic!! I am new, and don't know how to work tumblr so... any advice helps!!

This is a tickle fic btw so if you don't like that sort of thing then keep scrolling!!! Short as it is my first time!

Y/n and Clint are playing a game of crib. Ler Clint Barton, Lee Y/n, Fandom: Marvel Y/n is She/her

Y/n and Clint were playing a game of crib. Y/n suddenly got a really great hand, with a grand total of 24 points . But what made this the greatest hand of her life was the look on clints face when those points made you win and skunk him.

"Clint I beat you! I guess you aren't as good as they say you are. "

she was surprised when she won, because he is quite the crib player, so of course she had to tease him a bit. But she quickly regretted it when she looked up from her winning hand to see the death glare that clint was giving her. She knows this look all too well.

"cLihihnt nohoho dohont"

"Why are you giggling, I didn't even say what im going to do yet" he said slightly giggling at your panic.

"Ihi knohow whahat yohohor gohoing toho doho"

"well you shouldn't of teased me and insulted my crib ego. He said as he quickly pulled you into his lap and dug into your sides

Clihihint!! Stohohopp

"I'm not going to stop until you say that your not going to tell anyone that you won against me! Besides, I know you love thissss." As he said this he switched to wiggling his finger in her armpits. On instinct you closed your arms down effectively trapping his fingers in, and so he wiggled his fingers faster.

CLIHIHINT OHOHOH MYHAHAHY GOHOHOHD

"Aww your blushing"

HAHAHAHHAHA she was just cackling

Clint tried to switch tactics but quickly relised he couldn't as his fingers were trapped.

"yyyy/nnnnn you have to let my fingers outtttt" he said in a sing song voice.

IHIHIHIH CAHAHAANT

Clint slowed his fingers so she could but as soon as she did he dug back in twice as hard

" CLIHIHIHIHINT OHOHOHO MYAYAY GOHOHOHOD" you said in absolute suprise.

" I know im evil"

HAHAHAHAHAH OKOK IHI WOHOHNT TELEHEHELELL ANYHEHEWONENE

Clint had slowly stopped his fingers ad slipped them out of your armpits

'Ohohkay giggles calm down" he said as he rubbed you to get the residue giggles out

" Your so mehehean"

" I know you love it though"

" ugh your so obnoxious"

" I know, and also you can tell whoever you want I really don't care"

' YES! Im telling Tony! He is so never gonna let this go!"

Clint groaned but laughed as you ran away to tell tony.

#tword content #ticklish reader #tickle fic #marvel #marvel tickle #Ler clint barton #tickle

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chalterdh22 · 3 months ago

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Day 24: Kate and Clint in “Joke” for Augtickletober2024

Summary: Kate bets she can get Clint to turn red. Bets on!

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, so if that’s not your thing, don’t read. All fluff. Ler: F Lee: M (kind of…)

“Hey!” Kate said to Clint as she sat down next to him on the couch.

“What’s up kid?”

“Nothing, just wondering something.”

“What?” Clint asked, not even looking at her.

“When Bruce hulks out, does he turn green instantly or gradually?” Clint looked at her slowly, confused as why he would even ask him that.

“Uh, I don’t know. I guess I never looked.”

“Do you know I can get someone to turn color instantly?” She asked, grinning at him.

“Sure kid. Whatever you say.”

“You wanna bet?” She stuck her hand out.

He reached and shook it. “Just don’t throw anything on me, ok.”

She smiled. “Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Ticklish!” Clint paused and turned red. “I win!”

Kate got up and walked away and thought she should have bet him something. She stopped, turned around to face Clint and he was right behind her. Kate gasped.

“My turn for a joke!” Now Kate was red.

The End

#augtickletober2024 #tickletober #hawkeye #kate bishop #tickle fluff #tickle fic #jeremy renner

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marvelnerdsworld · 2 years ago

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Marvel Head Cannons

I had a small thought and figured I should (since I’m a little bit of a Marvel nerd) put out some of my head cannons ahem lets get started

Wanda Maximoff

Lets start with the lovely lady herself

1. Ticklishness (Scale of 1-10)

Definitely a 8.5/10 If you know where to get her her ticklishness will go up to a 9.

2. Lee or Ler?

I’d say she’s more of a switch than anything but she defiantly leans more ler due to having a sibling, you defiantly learn a thing or two.

3. If they like tickling who do they like being tickled by?

For her (when she is lee) I’d say Vision, Nat, and Clint. Now when she’s ler she loves to get Nat and Clint because she likes to break their tough façade.

4. What are their most ticklish spots (Rated 1-10)?

Sides-6/10

Ribs-8/10

Tummy-5/10

Neck-6.5/10

Feet-5.5/10

Knees/Behind them-9.5/10

5. Ler Style, their preferred tickles, and what their giggles are like.

I would say when she’s ler she can be very ruthless if you deserved it. An example being if you messed with her while she was cooking or got into the food before she was finished. However when she’s feeling playful her tickles will be very teasy and her accent will be prominent when she’s teasing.

When she is lee she’s super giggly and adores light playful tickles. Her Sokovian accent will definitely come out when she’s giggling. Her giggles are very soft at first but get very squeaky when you get near one of her bad spots.

First one done give me an idea on who to do next

#ler!wanda #lee!wanda #marvel headcanons #tickles

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gigglz · 1 year ago

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Alright so i have some motivation to write a tword fic!!! Yipeeee!! But i dont know what characters to write for!! :( help!! The other poll on my profile is going to be the lee! poll!!

#tickles #sfw tickles #tickle #tickle community #tword #tword community #tickle fic #tword content #mcu tickle #marvel tickle #marvel tickle fic #mcu tickle fic #ler!loki #ler!tony stark #ler!peter #ler!natasha #ler!bucky #ler!steve

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hir0s4nch3z · 2 years ago

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Mentira

📚TIPO DE CAP.: Ponto de Vista (POV)

📌CONTEXTO: Depois de utilizar suas habilidades especiais para ajudar os Vingadores a terem sucesso em algumas de suas últimas missões, você foi convocada por Nick Fury a se juntar à equipe.

Como a ocasião não poderia ser de melhor pretexto, Stark promove uma festa de boas-vindas em seu prédio, a qual contava apenas com você e o resto do pessoal.

Todos viram a festividade como uma oportunidade de folga, tendo em vista os dias difíceis que já passaram. Música alta, muitos drinks e risadas faziam a festa que já estava no seu auge quando você se deu conta de algo...

Loki.

Estava tão envolvida com as conversas e taças de champanhe que não percebeu Loki sentado num dos sofás da sala de estar. Parecia ler um livro grosso em meio à música e vozes altas que circulavam o local.

"Hm..." - franze as sobrancelhas, pensativa.

Na verdade, você e o Deus da Trapaça tinham uma relação bem complexa... Algo que te fez pensar ser a razão da reclusão de Loki durante a festividade.

Se sentido culpada, decide então levar para Loki uma bebida e um prato com alguns petiscos, já que durante essas três horas de festa você não percebeu nenhuma movimentação vinda dele além do folear das páginas de seu livro.

"É o mínimo que posso fazer." - você pensa. Afinal, VOCÊ era o motivo daquela festa toda.

No caminho até o bar sente alguém segurar seu braço, então logo se vira para encarar um sorriso largo e amigável.

Era Thor.

Mas por que te segurar assim, de forma tão rígida? Ele parecia ter algo pra dizer...

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

A festa tava bombando! Jarvis havia programado uma playlist musical que duraria a noite toda enquanto todos se acabariam de beber e dançar.

Thor estava arrasando, reproduzindo o que - segundo ele - eram passos asgardianos de dança (algo cultural) enquanto Clint mandava passos igualmente singulares (pra não dizer "estranhos");

Bruce e Romanoff estavam no bar preparando alguns drinks enquanto flertavam de forma explícita o suficiente para que ninguém tivesse o atrevimento de incomodá-los;

Tony e Pepper, segurando suas respectivas taças de vinho, se sentaram em um largo sofá, enquanto o agente Nick se sentava numa poltrona posicionada de frente para eles - os três conversando de forma descontraída;

E por último, você e Steve:

-Vai ser bom tê-la na equipe, senhorita (S/N). Seus serviços foram de extrema importância para o sucesso de nossas últimas missões.

Na mão esquerda ele segurava um drink que parecia ser Martini, enquanto em sinal de conciliação estendia a mão direita para apertar a sua.

-É tranquilizador saber que minha extraordinariedade finalmente terá um bom destino. - Você então estende sua mão, dando um aperto firme.

Passaram mais alguns minutos jogando conversa fora: ele falava de missões anteriores às suas, contando como superou inúmeras situações de quase-morte; e você descrevia sua vida antes dos Vingadores e da S.H.I.E.L.D - como era difícil lidar com sua individualidade e não ter um rumo sobre isso.

Papo vem, papo vai e com ele as bebidas em suas mãos. Quando se deram conta já estavam de taças vazias. Só então pararam de fazer contato visual, e foi aí que você percebeu...

O cômodo em que estavam - mais precisamente, a sala de estar - era gigantesco. Havia sofás espaçosos, mesas inteligenges e muitos outros recursos avançados... Toda a mobília tecnológica ajudava o ambiente a ser cada vez mais acomodador.

Mas Loki não parecia desfrutar disso.

Sentado em uma poltrona num canto, lá estava ele. Seu livro em mãos o ajudava a se distanciar de toda a festa que estava acontecendo bem na sua frente.

-Com licença, vou pegar mais um drink. Gostaria de alguma coisa do bar? - Steve fala enquando se inclina para pegar a taça em sua mão.

-Uh... Não. D-Digo, prefiro te acompanhar. - Você gagueja, ainda com os olhos fixados em Loki.

Seu plano era simples: ir até o bar, pegar um drink e um prato de petiscos, e depois levá-los para Loki. Se tudo corresse bem poderiam até desenrolar uma conversa... Quem sabe? Esperava que isso simbolizasse uma trégua entre vocês; Pelo menos por aquela noite.

-Espero que não sejamos um incômodo para Bruce e Natasha. - Steve brinca enquanto te guia até o local, apontando para o casal debruçado no balcão de bebidas.

-Oh, realmente! Eles parecem estar... - Você pondera as palavras, tirando alguns segundos para pensar num jeito delicado de dizer o óbvio - ... se dando bem!

-Você quer dizer "flertando"? - O homem solta um riso de canto, admirando seu recato.

-É, isso também descreve...

Já estavam bem próximos ao bar quando subitamente sentiu um toque em seu ombro; Mãos grandes e firmes, porém ainda era um toque gentil e caloroso. Só poderia ser um de seus amigos mais recentes:

-Thor? - Você pergunta, se virando para encarar a figura alta e de cabelos loiros.

-Gostaria de um minuto da sua atenção, senhorita (S/N). - Ele sorri - Capitão, se importa se eu roubá-la por um instante?

-Isso é ela quem decide. - Lança uma piscadela, deixando a decisão em suas mãos.

-Tudo bem, claro! - Acena com a cabeça - Capitão, se puder me fazer o favor de levar meu copo... Acho que vou parar com as bebidas por hoje. - Você entrega o utensílio vazio para seu, até então, companheiro.

Se distanciando com as duas taças na mão, Steve vai a caminho do bar, deixando você e o Deus do Trovão para terem uma conversa um tanto quanto reveladora.

-Então... O que está achando da festa? - Ele puxa o assunto.

-Maravilhosa! É bom ver que todos estão se divertindo tanto! - Você fala, alegre.

Estavam de pé, um ao lado do outro. De onde se encontravam dava para ver todos os seus amigos: uns dançando, outros bebendo, alguns conversando... Você e Thor não puderam evitar de sorrir ao assistir à cena.

-Stark fez questão de convidar todos da equipe. Parece que ele realmente gostou da senhorita...

-B-Bom, me sinto honrada... Ainda mais por todos terem comparecido. - Não pôde evitar de olhar para a figura excluída de Loki. Estava feliz por ele estar ali, mas mesmo assim seu rosto transparecia culpa por sua reclusão.

Conseguiam ver tudo: Natasha e Bruce sendo interrompidos por Steve, o qual parecia brincar com a situação; Clint na pista de dança, requebrando como se não houvesse um amanhã; e Tony lançando comentários cômicos sobre seus colegas enquanto Pepper e Fury tentam não dar risadas muito altas.

Depois de um curto tempo admirando sua equipe embriagada e agitada, Thor finalmente vai ao assunto:

-Sabe... Eu notei. - Ele diz baixinho e de forma disfarçada, como para que mais ninguém além de você ouvisse.

-Notou o quê? - Diz, confusa.

-O jeito que olha para meu irmão. - Seu tom transparecia obviedade.

Você tenta não demonstrar, mas foi pega de surpresa; Seus músculos tencionaram e sua postura enrijeceu. Como ele saberia dizer? Fazia parte da equipe havia poucos meses... Mal conhecia o pessoal.

Ajeitando a postura tensa em que se encontrava, tenta não demonstrar abalo:

-Não sei do que está falando. - Diz num tom de voz indiferente.

-Ora, por favor... Até o homem mais tolo seria capaz de enxergar o jeito que olha para ele. - Ele pausa, te encarando de lado - Se não tem interesse romântico, pelo menos se sente intrigada pela sua presença.

Na defensiva, você rebate:

-E como não me intrigar? Um homem com tamanha ambição... Seria admirável, se não fosse temível.

-Entendo. - Balança a cabeça, assentindo - Então talvez eu tenha me enganado ao pensar que se sente culpada pela posição em que meu irmão se encontra durante esse momento de comemoração.

-C-Como sabe que eu-

-Já disse. Até o homem mais tolo seria capaz de enxergar o jeito que olha para ele... Mas seu olhar preocupado e piedoso te entregou de bandeja. - Diz num tom brincalhão.

Respirando fundo, Thor se vira para você. Sua expressão estava séria, mas mesmo assim ainda conseguia sentir seu ar cômico e reconfortante de sempre.

-Só vim aqui te dar os parabéns pela entrada triunfal em nossa equipe. - Ele aperta sua mão.

-O-Obrigada...

-E também vim te alertar de que aquilo que você vê sentado naquela poltrona... - Aponta para a imagem concentrada de seu irmão - ...não é o Loki.

Uma interrogação se formou em seu rosto. Como não era ele? Estava bem ali, na sua frente.

-Desculpe, acho que não estou entendendo. Como o Loki não é... - Você pausa - ... O Loki?

Seu rosto dócil e palavras inocentes arrancavam um olhar piedoso vindo do Deus do Trovão. Então ele responde:

-Meu irmão é portador de truques que desafiam a compreensão de toda Midgard... Ilusão projetada é um deles.

-Espera, então aquilo não passa de uma ilusão?

-Tecnicamente, sim. Vocês humanos têm nomes mais apropriados para descrever isso, como clone, réplica, duplicata...

-Fala sério... E eu aqui me preocupando com ele! - Fechando os punhos, você demonstra irritação.

-Entendo sua ira. Já estive no seu lugar por centenas de vezes até que finalmente aprendi a distinguir seus truques ilusórios do que de fato é real.

Você olha para o rosto de Thor, incrédula. Então pergunta:

-Essa cópia é idêntica ao Loki... Como soube distinguir?

Com um ar de orgulho, responde:

-Meu irmão é um exímio leitor. Jamais demoraria mais de três horas para ler um livro como aquele... Nem se quisesse.

-Oh.

Vocês dois ficam calados por alguns poucos segundos enquanto encaram o clone de Loki foleando as páginas do livro repousante em seu colo.

Queria poder abstrair essa informa��ão e seguir com a festa, mas algo martelava na sua cabeça. Uma dúvida incessante.

Era tímida demais para perguntar diretamente ao autor da duplicata, então lançou a pergunta para a pessoa mais próxima dele: seu irmão, Thor.

-Thor... Eu não entendo.

E com sua voz grave como um trovão ele rapidamente tenta sanar sua suposta dúvida:

-Tudo bem não entender. Aqui no seu mundo coisas como essa são praticamente inexplicáveis-

-Não. Não é isso... - Seu tom rígido fez o deus finalmente levar a conversa a sério.

-Então qual é a sua dúvida?

-É só que... - Pausa a fala, pensativa - Por que ele faria isso? Digo, ele tinha a opção de não vir até aqui; Não participar da festa. Não vejo o porquê de se dar o trabalho de criar uma réplica apenas pra que fique sentada a noite inteira.

-Hm... Entendo sua pergunta, embora a resposta para esta seja óbvia demais. - Ele cruza os braços, logo lançando um sorriso de canto.

-Então diga, já que é tão óbvio assim. - Você também cruza os braços, irritada.

Esperando por uma resposta áspera ou um motivo inteiramente egoísta, você franze as sobrancelhas.

Esperava, na verdade, por qualquer resposta... Menos essa:

-Ele se importa com você.

E como numa fração de segundos a sua carranca se desfaz, revelando bochechas quentes e olhos brilhantes.

-O-O quê...? - Sua voz era macia. Não pôde evitar a felicidade em seu tom.

-Todos aqui nesta sala conseguem enxergar a inocência de seus sentimentos, (S/N)...

-Eu... Não estou entendendo o que você quer dizer.

-O que quero dizer é que suas emoções são óbvias para todos... Inclusive para Loki. - Thor descruza os braços, apoiando suas mãos grandes em seus ombros pequenos - Ele sabia que você se sentiria mal se ele não viesse; se culparia por sua ausência. Por isso criou a duplicata, para que você se divertisse sem maiores preocupações. Mas pelo visto você arranjou um outro jeito de se culpar, não é?

-E por que ele se importaria com isso...? Quero dizer, não temos exatamente a relação mais aberta do mundo.

-Pelo mesmo motivo que você se importou com ele há alguns momentos atrás...

E com isso você silencia, captando a indireta de Thor. Com sua mente pensando em tanta coisa ao mesmo tempo era difícil ter uma reação imediata. O que dizer? O que fazer?

De uma coisa você sabia: apenas você e Loki poderiam resolver essa situação. Ninguém mais.

Tinha plena consciência de que ele era sinônimo de encrenca, mas mesmo assim... Mesmo assim não podia evitar.

Engolindo a timidez e ignorando as bochechas vermelhas você lança sua última pergunta:

-Se ele não está de fato aqui... Onde está? - Seu olhar determinado denunciava seus próximos atos.

-Ir atrás de um diálogo com ele não é uma boa opção, (S/N). Às vezes ele pode ser impiedoso com as palavras...

-Então acho que vou ter que pagar para ver... Agora me diga, onde ele está?

-Ah... - Suspirando, diz - Como eu saberia? Loki é o Deus da Trapaça, o que faz dele imprevisível até mesmo para mim.

-Não tem nenhuma ideia de onde eu devesse procurar?

-É claro que tenho, mas é de Loki que estamos falando. O lugar mais provável para ele estar seria o último lugar em que ele estaria.

-E qual seria esse lugar...?

Parecia determinada a achá-lo para colocar as coisas em ordem entre vocês dois.

É bem verdade que a sua relação era bastante... Excêntrica. Isso pra dizer o mínimo.

Ao mesmo tempo que evadiam ao máximo seu encontro - sempre evitando estar no mesmo recinto em que o outro se encontrava -, quando estavam juntos era como se algo mágico acontecesse.

Uma magia que Loki havia jamais sentido... Uma a qual nem o melhor de seus truques pudesse reproduzir.

Você sabe o que quero dizer, não é? Olhares lascivos e respiração acelerada; Corações num só rítmo enquanto sentem um arrepio satisfatório pelo corpo todo; Um calor incontrolável que toma conta de seus corpos e seus pensamentos...

Obviamente esse era um sentimento estranho para ele; Algo inteiramente novo. Talvez por isso ele reagisse de forma agressiva e irônica toda vez que te dirigia a palavra ou sequer estivesse no mesmo lugar em que você estava.

Enquanto isso, pra quem está de fora a visão é praticamente apocalíptica: Vocês vivem em guerra um com o outro. Como deu pra perceber, geralmente é ele quem começa as brigas - mas você também não deixa barato; O que, por incrível que pareça, parecia satisfazer vocês dois... Era como se a cada nova briga o fogo da paixão aumentasse.

É claro que depois de muito assistir às suas discussões e conflitos, todos da equipe perceberam que esse era um jeito feroz de demonstrarem interesse um pelo outro.

Vocês atendiam bem ao famoso fenômeno "Entre tapas e beijos"...

A química era inegável, é verdade, mas os dois sabiam que as chances de darem certo eram mínimas.

Nada colaborava para o romance: Você era milhares de anos mais nova que ele (literalmente), além do fato de serem de planetas diferentes; Seus pensamentos muitas vezes divergem, o que ocasiona brigas constantes entre vocês; Além de que, para ele, você era inocente demais.

Ele via pureza em você. Via heroísmo. E esses com certeza não eram adjetivos atribuídos a ele.

De forma resumida, a sua relação é beeeeem complicada...

-Você não desiste fácil, não e mesmo? - O Deus do Trovão coça a nuca, já sabendo a resposta que receberia.

-Não.

-Ah... Tudo bem, você venceu. - Suspirando, ele logo diz - Quando éramos jovens, Loki sempre evitou festas e jogatinas... Enquanto eu bebia e lutava com meus amigos no grande salão de comemorações, ele se refugiava na prestigiada biblioteca de Asgard junto de cutões de poeira e livros velhos.

-Biblioteca de Asgard, huh...

Você se concentra por alguns segundos, pensando nas palavras de seu amigo. Depois de muito raciocinar, chega à uma conclusão:

-Biblioteca... É isso! Deve haver alguma biblioteca nesse prédio, não é?

Seu tom esperançoso fazia Thor repensar se fez a coisa certa ao te contar... Ele sabia o que te aguardava, só não sabia se você era forte o suficiente para aguentar.

-Obrigada, Thor!

Você se despede de seu amigo com um aperto de mão, agradecendo pela ajuda.

Teria uma longa noite pela frente...

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

✍️Esse capítulo ficou grande, né? Kkkkk! Mas e aí, qual individualidade você usaria para ajudar os Vingadores? Me conta nos comentários!

Aproveita que já vai comentar e me diz se quer uma parte 2 desse capítulo ou se prefere ele assim mesmo, deixando o desfecho para a imaginação de vocês.

Espero que tenham gostado da leitura...

Abraços do autor! 🤭

#loki imagine #loki fic #loki x yn #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki odison x reader

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hotnew-pt · 3 months ago

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As adoráveis fotografias da neta mais nova de Clint Eastwood #ÚltimasNotícias #Portugal

Hot News Clint Eastwood foi, recentemente, novamente avô e há adoráveis imagens da neta mais nova do ator, que é fruto do casamento de Morgan Eastwood com Tanner Koopmans. “Duas semanas com a nossa Cleo”, pode ler-se na legenda de um conjunto de fotografias que a filha do ator (Morgan Eastwood) publicou na sua página de Instagram. Nas imagens, que estão agora disponíveis na galeria, além da…

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marvel-tfic · 1 year ago

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I am in a mood for ler jeremy renner/ clint barton...send prompts pleeeease

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years ago

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Can't Wake a Sleeping Beast

Word count: 3,800

Pairing: Various (Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, Clint, Nat, Bucky, Loki) x female reader (all platonic, although Loki has a crush on you because I CAN'T HELP MYSELF DAMNIT 😂😂)

Warnings: None I can think of - mild swearing maybe?

So normally I don't write for this many characters, but I wrote a slightly modified version of this prompt requesting a fic with the six original Avengers, Bucky, and Loki trying to wake a sleeping reader. I don't specify below that the reader is the youngest of the team, but you are welcome to assume so as you read! 😊

(Also - there's no good casual gifs of the entire team, so... please accept this gif from the trip to the shwarma place at the end of Avengers 😂)

"Are you ready for the most exciting sporting event in history?!"

You plunked yourself down on the sofa beside Loki, grinning enthusiastically. Your upbeat tone was a stark contrast to your eyes, however. With puffy, darkened circles under your eyelids and a tinge of redness to the once white-colored outer edges of your eyes, it was obvious you were absolutely exhausted.

"Agent... how much sleep did you get last night?" Loki asked knowingly. You scowled at his chastising.

"I got plenty of sleep. I'm fine."

"Really? Because your eyes are telling me otherwise."

"Hey!" You folded your arms indignantly across your chest.

"I know you're not from Earth and all, but that's no way to speak to a lady," Steve chimed in as he and Bucky entered the common room, both taking a seat on an empty sofa. Loki rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I simply mean to say that you appear to be very tired. And I know you have a tendency to overwork yourself into the young hours of the morning."

Your cheeks blossomed with color as your hardened expression faltered. "I went to bed plenty early enough, thank you very much. Plus, I slept in this morning."

"Oh? And what time did you awaken, then?"

"8AM."

"And what time did you go to sleep?"

You hesitated, taking a moment to think. "4AM."

Tony had just walked in at that moment, snorting in amusement. "Wow. That's even later than I went to bed. And that's saying something."

"You're not helping," you muttered, narrowing your eyes at the billionaire. "Anyway... can we please stop harping on my sleeping habits and get ready to watch the first game?"

"Are you certain you'll even be capable of staying awake?" Loki chided.

"For the World Cup? Absolutely. I wouldn't miss this for anything."

"Ten bucks says she falls asleep by halftime," Tony goaded, smirking at you from his armchair across the room. You scoffed, refusing to offer him a verbal response.

"Agent - you are well aware that once you fall asleep, it is nearly impossible to awaken you?" Loki teased.

"I will not fall asleep!"

Loki snickered. "Whatever you say."

You had been ranting about the upcoming World Cup for months now. Most sports were rather boring to you, but soccer games always had you on your feet cheering for your favorite team. Your enjoyment of the sport had rubbed off on your teammates - even Loki found himself interested in watching the games, finding it amusing how little protective gear these Midgardians would wear despite how violent the game could get.

And, perhaps, part of him just enjoyed the sport because you enjoyed it.

As the first game was beginning, Thor burst into the common room with a frantic expression on his face.

"Have I missed the coin toss?!" he fretted.

"Nah, you're just in time, big guy," Steve assured, chuckling as Thor's face melted with relief.

"Where are the others?" he queried as he took the seat on the opposite side of you on the sofa.

"Oh, they'll be in and out I'm sure," Tony responded flippantly.

"Bruce and Clint don't appreciate soccer as much as we do," you griped. "And Nat had a couple errands to run before she could join us."

"Agent!" Thor's attention suddenly turned to you, his brows furrowed with worry. "You appear to be exhausted! Are you alright?"

"Ah-ah - don't mention how tired she looks," Tony warned, whispering loudly enough for you to hear. "She gets grumpy when you talk about it."

"Alright, I'm ignoring all of you." You crossed your arms once again, leaning back against the sofa.

The first game finally began, and the room fell silent as everyone watched the initial kickoff intently. Intermittently, there would be a chorus of shouting as the favored team got close to the opponent's goal. Notably, you suddenly stopped joining in on the hollering about halfway through the first half. Loki hadn't expected you to fall asleep that quickly, but he didn't dare look at you to find out, for fear you'd become sour again.

And then your head suddenly slumped over onto Loki's shoulder.

"Are you awake, darling?" he whispered, turning his head to look down at your face. Your eyes were shut, your breathing slow and steady with a slight raspy snoring undertone. The sight was simply adorable.

"You weren't kidding about her being tired," Bucky observed at the end of the half, gazing at you incredulously as you snored away against Loki's shoulder. Tony clapped his hands together excitedly.

"Where's my ten bucks? I called it!"

"Shh! You'll wake the young maiden, Stark!" Thor scolded in a hushed tone. Loki laughed at that, earning a glare from his brother. "Do you not care that she is clearly exhausted?"

"No, no it isn't that. I just find it amusing that you believe a simple clapping noise would be enough to wake her," Loki chuckled. "The girl sleeps like the dead. It's near impossible to wake her."

"And how would you know that?" Steve asked warily. Loki felt an involuntary wave of heat rush to his face at the implication.

"I've come across her napping in the common areas of the tower before. Believe me - it's very difficult to wake her."

It was true - Loki tended to wander the tower at late hours of the evening, much later than any of the others. On numerous occasions, he'd found you sleeping on the sofa, or napping with your forehead pressed against your forearms at the kitchen table, having attempted to stay up too late to watch a film or get some work done and passed out before you could drag yourself to bed.

At first, he'd simply let you be. What should it matter to him where you slept? Clearly you managed to get yourself to bed eventually, as you were never in the same spot the following morning. Perhaps you enjoyed napping for a bit before heading off to bed for the evening?

Then Loki began to realize that the nights he discovered you sleeping outside of your bedroom were the nights you'd overworked yourself. Hours upon hours in the training room... pouring over blueprints and maps in preparation for a mission... even just completing your paperwork sometimes took precedence over sleep in your list of priorities. So he began to try to wake you whenever he found you sleeping in a position that appeared uncomfortable.

The problem was - nothing would get you to wake up.

It was clear you were still living - you were always breathing (often snoring, in fact) so Loki didn't fear something terrible had happened to you. But nothing he attempted could ever get you to awaken. Eventually, he'd simply taken to just scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to your room to put you to bed.

He imagined you must become confused those mornings that followed, finding yourself tucked into your own sheets despite never having brought yourself there in the first place. So, eventually, he told you the truth. Since then, it'd become a sort of joke between the pair of you - Loki teased you for sleeping like a corpse, and you teased him right back for having so much concern over where you slept. It was enough to make him feel confident that you didn't mind him looking after you on those nights.

"She will surely injure her neck if she sleeps like that for long," Thor worried, observing the way your head was tilted awkwardly to the side.

"Yes... I suppose you're right." Carefully, Loki reached around your back to grasp your shoulders, gently guiding you to lie down properly with your head resting on his leg. Thor followed suit, scooping your legs up off the floor to rest them across his own lap.

"There, now. She must be much more comfortable," Thor declared happily, patting your knee affectionately. Loki hummed in agreement.

You remained asleep through the entire second half of that first game. With a bit of a break between games, the boys began to discuss your exhaustion once again.

"She's probably gonna be really upset that she missed the first game..." Bucky pondered aloud. "We let her sleep for an hour, do you think we should try to wake her up now?"

"Good luck with that, Barnes," Loki snickered. "I'm telling you - nothing will awaken the sleeping beast."

"I don't believe it." Bucky rose to his feet, pacing over to the sofa you were resting on. Loki gazed up at him expectantly, motioning for him to try. He placed a hand on your shoulder and shook you gently for a moment. You didn't even stir.

"Honestly - is that the best you can do?" Loki taunted with a haughty laugh.

"I wanted to go easy on her." He grasped your arm with his metal hand and shook you harder, causing your head to jostle around against Loki's leg a bit.

Nothing.

"Hang on, let me try," Tony interjected, wandering over to stand beside Bucky. He knelt down in front of you, holding his hands up in front of your face before suddenly clapping them together loudly in rapid succession. "HEY! WAKE UP! GAME'S GONNA START SOON!"

Not even a flinch.

"Wow. You weren't kidding, Ice Age." Loki scowled at Tony's nickname.

"Ah, I have a thought," Thor announced with a sly grin, gaining everyone's attention. He grabbed hold of one of your ankles in his lap and swiped a finger down the sole of your socked foot. Your toes curled in response, egging him on to start scratching with all five fingers up and down your sole.

Loki watched your face intently. Your brow furrowed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your mouth in the most adorable way. Still, your eyes remained shut, chest rising and falling rhythmically with your steady breaths.

"You might be on to something, Thor," Bucky noted as Thor relented in his attempt. He brought his fingers to your neck and fluttered them along the skin where your shoulder met your collarbone. Your shoulder shrugged up reflexively, and Bucky pulled his hand away to watch you expectantly, assuming you were waking.

Then, you turned over onto your other side, letting out a deep breathy sigh. Still asleep.

"What are you guys doing?"

The group collectively glanced up toward the sound of Nat's voice in the doorway, finding her standing with her hands on her hips accusingly. Beside her stood Clint - looking less than enthused to be watching the game; as well as Bruce - looking quite enthused about being there with Nat.

"Don't worry, Romanoff - she's been sleeping for over an hour. We just don't want her to miss all the games today," Steve assured.

"Alright. I'll allow it." She wandered into the room, standing over your sleeping form while Clint and Bruce found seats. "Hmm..." Glancing around, she suddenly walked over to Tony's seat, reaching over to the side table and plucking an ice cube from his drink.

"Hey! Do you make it a habit of taking things that aren't yours?" Tony griped. Nat merely grinned, carrying the ice cube over and dropping it down the back of your shirt.

"Oh, that's gotta work," Steve declared, watching intently to see if you'd wake.

The sudden chill of the ice certainly wasn't welcome, as evidenced by the grimace that formed on your face. Still, you didn't open your eyes even once, only shifting a bit in your sleep.

"Alright, clearly that didn't work," Loki muttered, sliding his hand down your back to guide the ice cube out from under your shirt and chucking it in Nat's direction. She shrugged, unfazed.

"Hey, I tried."

"I suggest we reserve further attempts for halftime," Thor announced. "The next game is beginning!"

Loki was genuinely torn as you continued to snore away with your head resting comfortably in his lap. He knew very well that you needed the rest, despite the fact you'd never admit it. And you looked simply adorable as you slept, which didn't help matters. But he also knew how angry you'd be with yourself if you awoke later that evening to find you'd missed the entire first day of the tournament.

Yes, perhaps at halftime they could try to wake you once again. For now, he decided to let you sleep a little longer, absently twirling strands of your hair around his fingers. A happy sigh puffed out of your nose, making his heart swell.

When the first half of the game had finished, the attention of the group turned from the television to your sleeping form once again.

"How long has she been sleeping like that?" Clint whispered.

"Don't worry about keeping your voice down - she's slept like a log since partway through the first half of the first game," Bucky explained with an incredulous laugh. "Thor, Tony and I tried to wake her up before you guys walked in."

"And she hasn't even moved?" Bruce asked.

"Not really. Thor tickled her foot and that seemed to sort of work, so I tickled her neck, and still nothing."

"Maybe you haven't found her tickle spot," Clint suggested. Nat glanced at him with raised brows. "What? It's what I call it with the kids."

"That's pretty darn adorable," she hummed affectionately. Clint's cheeks turned slightly red.

"A-anyway... here, let an expert give it a shot." He meandered over to your sofa, gazing down at you in thought. "Lila nearly wets herself laughing when I get her here..." He gently lifted your arm so he could slot his fingers into your armpit, wriggling his fingertips deep into the hollow space. A huffy breath escaped your nose as your brows knit together once again, a full-fledged smile now growing on your face. Astonishingly, you remained undeniably asleep.

"I don't think it's working," Thor stated, watching your face with a fondness in his eyes. Clint groaned disappointedly, removing his hand from under your arm.

"Damn. That always gets the kids to wake up when they're being a pain."

"Let me try, then," Nat suggested, approaching from behind Clint and giving him a teasing poke in the side. He yelped and twisted, glaring at the assassin as he returned to his own seat. Nat brought both hands down on your stomach, clawing at the soft skin through your T-shirt. The ticklish smile returned to your face, but still you did not wake. It didn't matter whether she attempted a firm scratching or a light tracing motion, you were simply too sound asleep.

"Ok, obviously she's only ticklish when she's awake," Steve observed jokingly. "What else haven't we tried? We're running out of halftime."

"Oh, oh, hang on-" Tony swiped Nat's glass of water from the table in front of her, clearly feeling he needed revenge for her theft of his ice cube. Loki gave him a fierce look as he approached you with the water glass.

"I certainly hope you aren't planning to pour that on her," he stated warningly, shooting daggers at Tony with his eyes. He shrunk back just slightly under Loki's gaze.

"No, of course not... who would do something that cruel?" He dipped his fingers into the glass of water (earning an annoyed shout from its owner) and then flicked the water at your forehead. A few cold droplets stuck to the bridge of your nose, again making you grimace slightly in your sleep. Tony sighed. "Alright, can I dump it on her now?"

"Not unless you'd like my boot up your-"

"Alright! Alright, I get it, Jack Frost!" Tony rolled his eyes, placing the glass down on the table where he'd found it before returning to your side. "Ok, kid - how about this?" His fingers dug into your ribs, kneading between the bones. It was clearly tickling you quite a bit, as your eyes and nose scrunched up in the most adorable way. And yet - you stubborn thing - you still remained asleep. Tony threw his hands up in the air in frustration after a few moments, stomping back to his seat. "I thought I had her there!"

"I'm afraid we must abandon our efforts once again - the second half is starting!" Thor announced excitedly.

"No, she's gonna be pretty mad if she wakes up to find she missed two full games," Steve groaned. "Let me try."

"Please do it quickly, soldier - I must see who wins this game!" Thor insisted. Steve paced over to the sofa where you lay, wasting no time in digging into your ribs as he'd seen Tony attempt. He squeezed your side with his other hand, clearly hoping two spots would be more effective than one.

You adorable creature - you buried your face in Loki's stomach, hiding the huge grin that had taken shape on your face. Surely you must be awake now, he assumed.

And yet, when Steve relented in his attack, your breathing returned right back to the rhythmic, steady rise and fall of deep sleep.

"Alright! I give up!" Steve declared with a laugh. "She can't complain when she wakes up - every one of us has tried."

"Bruce hasn't," Tony reminded him.

"Me?!" Bruce appeared frazzled at the suggestion. "But if you guys haven't been able to, what makes you think I could wake her up?"

"Worth a shot at least," Bucky concurred. "Any genius ideas in that big brain of yours, Banner?"

"Well, I... You guys haven't tried pinching her yet?"

Bruce withered a bit under Loki's angry glare at the suggestion.

"Relax! I wouldn't hurt her!" he assured quickly, "Physicians do it to assess neurologic function."

He rose to his feet as Loki's glare softened a bit. If it worked, at least you'd get to watch the remainder of the game. But he'd be damned if Banner would actually hurt you in any way. His eyes never left Bruce's as he knelt down beside you, taking your hand in his and pulling a pen from his pocket.

"See, this doesn't hurt that badly," he assured, pinching one of your fingers between the pen and his own thumb, careful not to apply enough pressure to earn the wrath of the god watching over you. No matter how hard he pressed, you didn't even flinch. You tenacious little thing.

Bruce slipped the pen back in his shirt pocket when he recognized it wasn't going to work.

"Uh... well, that wasn't helpful," he chuckled nervously. "Have you tried behind the knees?" He reached over and scratched at the back of your knee gently. You sleepily bent your knees to block out his access to the sensitive spot, that little smile tugging at your lips once again.

"I must request that we cease this until the game has finished," Thor insisted. "Clearly, the young agent requires additional sleep."

"You just want them to stop interrupting the game," Loki accused.

"I... yes, that would also be nice, thank you."

In a way, Loki was quite impressed that you'd managed to remain asleep throughout all of this. Even he, the God of Mischief, couldn't come up with another method to try to wake you that wasn't too cruel for him to care to attempt.

He decided to keep trying to wake you while the others watched the second half. He wasn't all too interested in the game anyhow, and Thor couldn't complain that he was interrupting his viewing time.

Loki was sure that he could wake you if he could just find the the spot that you were simply too ticklish to sleep through. While awake, you were devastatingly ticklish - barely a solitary squeeze to the side and you'd be giggling like mad. How your mind was able to block out the ticklish sensations only whilst you slept was beyond him.

He scratched his fingers along your belly just above your waistline as he began his mission to locate your weak spot. His fingertips traveled gently up the side of your stomach, around your side, down to squeeze at your hipbone for a moment. Your ribs, he knew, would have you howling with laughter if you were awake, and yet no matter how meticulously he searched along each rib for a trigger spot to wake you, you simply buried your face deeper into his stomach in your sleep. Loki had to abandon that spot, mostly because you'd begun to tickle him with your gentle breathy laughter against his thin shirt overlaying his belly. You infuriating little creature.

Tickling fingers traveled up to your neck, flitting lightly against the soft, silky skin. Curiously, he fluttered his fingers under your chin, chuckling fondly under his breath as you ducked your head and let out a breath of a laugh - still in your sleep, of course. Perhaps your back would do it?

Before shifting to try there, he scratched ever so gently just below your jawline, selfishly enjoying the adorable smile it brought to your face. His fingertips grazed along the thin skin just behind your ear unintentionally.

Suddenly, you squeaked.

It was barely audible over the noise of the game and the cheering of the others in the room, but it was undeniable - you had squeaked. A sly grin spread across Loki's face as he averted his full attention to that spot, ghosting his fingertips around and behind your ear. Your face scrunched up into a huge smile, then slowly, your eyes cracked open.

"What..."

"Ah, she awakens at last." Loki caught your wrist before you could block his tickling fingers with your hand, continuing to flit the fingertips of his free hand around the hypersensitive shell of your ear. Rapid, squeaky giggles bubbled from your mouth as you tried shrugging your shoulder up to block him.

"Hehey!! You wahanted me to slee-heep, and then yohou tickle mehe??" you whined sleepily.

"Darling, you've been asleep for nearly two hours," Loki informed you, pausing his torment as your mouth dropped open.

"Two hours?? But then I... I missed two games??"

"A game and a half, actually," Bucky called from his seat. The room had now realized you were awake. "But the end of this one has been a nail-biter!"

Scowling, you shifted to sit up so you could watch the television. Loki couldn't hold back from pinching your side once, drawing your attention just long enough for him to say I told you so. You returned the favor by poking him in the stomach, earning a jolt and a glare from the god that he didn't truly mean.

With the added rest, you returned right back to your usual ways. You were on your feet with every goal, screaming at the referee on the screen for every penalty as though he could hear you, cheering when the opposing team missed a score. You were rambunctious, loud, and vicious. All traits Loki had come to love about you.

But if there was one thing he'd learned today, it was this:

Even someone as fierce as yourself had a weakness.

#ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #avengers x fem!reader #ler!bucky #ler!thor #ler!loki #ler!Steve Rogers #ler!Bruce #ler!Natasha #ler!Clint #ler!Tony

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widowsistersandfriends · 2 years ago

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Team Bonding

Request: pleaseeee can I request lee!wanda in AoU where she's really shy with the team and pietro mentions she loves being tickled but she gets super shy and embarrassed by it, and so clint absolutely wrecks her trying to get her out of her shell? thank you! <3 @natashaslovxr

Note: Thank you for this very cute request! I am so sorry it took a while to get to, but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1625

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The Avengers had all gathered together in the compound for a team dinner and game night. The large table was filled with various delicious foods, which made all of their mouths water and stomachs grumble. Wanda was still shy with the team, as she and her brother were fairly new to the crowd. She took a seat quietly next to Pietro and also next to Natasha.

The dinner consisted of various conversations, laughter and stories. Wanda tried her best to keep up and follow along, but she couldn’t find herself offering more than a few laughs at other people’s funny stories. It’s not that she wasn’t interested or anything. She just felt like she had a hard time fitting in with them. A majority of the team were guys, and Natasha had been with them from the start, so she was pretty much family.

“So what’s everyone’s favorite game? I want to have some good ideas for when we play afterwards,” Steve said, looking around the table.

“Uno! Monopoly! Sorry! Trouble! Life! Scrabble!” Various answers had come out in shouts around the table, as they were all eager to get their opinions out there.

“What about you Wanda? What’s your favorite game?” Clint asked gently.

“Umm, I’m not really sure,” the young witch said, looking down at her plate and poking at her food.

“I know her favorite game!” Pietro chimed in. The whole table became interested and waited for more details.

“When Wanda and I were little, we loved to play hide and seek with a twist. Basically, whoever is hiding also hides an item and the seeker has to find the person and the item. First they search for the hider. Then the hider tells them what item they’re looking for and they look for it. Whoever has the fastest time wins,” Pietro explained.

“Why was that your favorite game, Wanda?” Natasha asked curiously.

“Oh! Well, I guess it was just a fun way for me to bond with Pietro,” Wanda said shyly.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Pietro asked mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Pietro no! Don’t tell them,” Wanda whined, now gaining the curiosity of the entire table. This was the most she had said at dinner, and the slight panic in her voice got everyone’s attention.

“I think they’d love to knowwwww,” her twin brother teased.

Wanda covered her face in embarrassment, hoping that Pietro was just messing with her and wasn’t actually going to expose her secret.

“I have a strategy that lets me win every single time,” Pietro bragged, which earned him a sharp pinch to the thigh by his sister.

“Yow! That was so unnecessary,” Pietro yelped, as Wanda gave him a look of warning. She even made her eyes glow red to scare him even though she knew she would never hurt him on purpose.

The avengers all looked amused, seeing the twins interact in a playful setting. Pietro looked like he was gonna give in and keep her secret. However, he then quickly blurted out her secret before running off with his super speed. “Wanda is super ticklish and loves being tickled, so I use it to get her to confess where she hid her item!” With that, there was a blur and a young witch there with the rest of her team. Wanda looked around fearfully at the other avengers, knowing what was coming next.

The witch quickly pushed her chair back, making a run for it. She knew those smirks on all of her teammates’ faces meant trouble. She didn’t know where Pietro went, but her main goal was to hide. She figured if anyone found her, she could fly away. The only exception was her brother, who was so fast she wouldn’t have enough time to escape.

Wanda squeezed herself into the shower and closed the curtain. It wasn't the best hiding spot but it was all she had time for, as she was getting trailed by the other avengers. The tub was not super wide, so she was able to use both hands to hold the ends of the curtain to either side. This way, even if they tried to pull it open, they wouldn’t be able to. Or so she thought.

It was silent for a while, and she had hope that they had given up. Unfortunately just as she got her hopes up, the bathroom lights turned on and her shadow could be seen through the curtain.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Clint asked, and Wanda could hear the teasy smirk in his voice. The witch stayed quiet for now.

“Not answering hmm? We’ll get you talking soon,” Natasha said, and Wanda could imagine her facial expression as she said that.

“As captain, I order that we capture the witch and tickle her to pieces,” Steve said, joining in on the fun. The avengers tried tugging on the curtain, which held up nicely due to Wanda holding on to the ends. However, she didn’t realize a small loophole in her plan.

Natasha moved closer to the curtain, before reaching out and tickling Wanda’s ribs through the curtain. The sudden touch to the sensitive area made Wanda immediately jerk away and use her arms and hands to protect herself. With that, the curtain was ripped open by Natasha, as she grabbed Wanda despite her attempt to fly away.

“No! Natasha put me down!” The witch cried. Natasha’s response was just a jab to her ribs, causing her to flail in her arms helplessly.

Natasha laid her down on the bed, sitting behind her and bringing her arms above her head. Clint then came over with a teasing smile.

“Don’t worry little witch, I’m not going to hurt you. We just want to see you smile and laugh since you’re so shy,” Clint said.

Natasha looked down endearingly at Wanda, reassuring her.

“Don’t worry. This is all part of the initiation. Breaking people out of their shell,” Natasha said, as the witch attempted to pull away.

“I’m not ticklish!” Wanda blurted out, desperate to get out of this.

“Nice try. I know we can’t read minds like you but we can definitely read body language,” Clint said, as Natasha lightly tickled her armpit to catch her off guard.

“AHAHA no! Stop that!” Wanda demanded, a deep blush taking over her cheeks. It was clear she was trying to hold her laughter in.

“But I thought you said you weren’t ticklish?” Clint asked, squeezing her sides.

“IHIHIM NOHOHOT OKAHAHAY,” the witch laughed, as the two of them chuckled at her futile attempt at lying.

“Sure, we believe you,” Natasha and Clint said at the same time. With that, Clint began squeezing her hips while Natasha continued to tickle her armpits.

“NOHOHO PLEHEHEASE IHIHIM SOHOHORRY,” Wanda cried out, letting her laughs let a little more loose.

“What are you sorry for?” Clint asked, tickling her stomach now.

“FOHOHOR LYIHIHING,” Wanda shouted.

“So you admit you lied?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. The witch shook her head from side to side, gasping with giggles as Clint poked and prodded between her ribs.

They gave the witch a small breather, as she laid there helplessly.

“You guys are so mean,” Wanda whined with a pout.

“Nah, we’re not mean. We just make a good team,” Natasha said with a smirk.

“wE jUsT mAkE a gOoD tEaM,” Wanda said mockingly.

“Oh you are so asking for it,” Clint said, as he moved down to sit on her shins.

“No no no please! Anywhere but thehEHEHERE CLIHIHINT STAHAHAHAHAHAP,” Wanda screamed with laughter. To add on to the torture, Natasha began to shake her hands into her ribs.

“PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIM BEHEHEGGING! MEHEHERCY,” Wanda cried out, helplessly trying to squirm to the best of her capabilities.

“Aww look at you coming out of your shell,” Clint teased, as the witch couldn’t do anything but laugh.

The two of them eventually let her go, realizing that she had met her limit.

“Don’t ever team up again,” Wanda said to the two older avengers.

“Oh don’t worry, we plan on tickling you a lot more now that we know how ticklish you are,” Natasha said with a grin.

Wanda groaned, as the two of them helped her sit up and catch her breath.

“How about we make a deal,” Clint offered.

“What deal?” Wanda asked.

“If we find Pietro for you and let you tickle him as revenge, will you forgive us?” Clint asked.

Wanda narrowed her eyes at him, knowing she was bound to just get tickled eventually. She saw this as her opportunity to catch one of them off guard. She quickly flipped onto Clint, pinning him to the bed where she just was.

“I think I’d rather tickle you first. After all, you were the one who tickled me,” Wanda said, asking for Natasha to help her.

“What! I’m not the only one! Natasha tickled you too!” Clint protested.

“Not as much as you though. Besides, I’ll get my revenge on Natasha too, don’t worry,” Wanda said confidently.

“Oh really?” Natasha said, giving her sides a good squeezing, causing the witch to immediately take back her words all while squealing and giggling.

“Come on, I’ll help you tickle Clint. It’ll be some good bonding. After all, we need to have lots of team building and teamwork skills so we can work together as avengers,” Natasha said, as Clint began laughing and protesting as the two girls tickled him to pieces. His weak spots were his armpits and knees, much to the girls’ delight. The archer couldn’t help but snort and laugh through the tickle torture.

Wanda was still somewhat shy at times, but after her tickle torture experience, she became a lot more open and vulnerable around her new family. As for Pietro, Wanda also was able to sharpen her tickling skills, which left the speedy guy in for a day of torture.

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inneedofsupervision · 1 year ago

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No Spilling Secrets

Spiderman/Avengers fanfic: Lee Peter / Ler Clint, Sam & Bucky

I kinda live for the idea of there being a thin line of Peter being a genius and a clumsy baby. This is probably the siliest fanfic I've ever written, but I wanted it to be less sober. Please let me know what you think.

Summary: It was supposed to be a chill and fun Tuesday afternoon, testing the new web-shooters. Well, until Peter found himself pulling the dumbest stunt of his sixteen-year short life apart from getting bitten by a radioactive spider.

Read on Ao3

"Friday, what are the risks of this blowing up on me?"

"The risks of the web shooters malfunctioning sits at 27%, Peter."

Peter carries a smug grin as he fastens the devices around his wrists, waiting for the click that tells him they are locked in place.

"Good thing 27 is my lucky number."

"Mr. Stark said to wait until he is back from his meeting-"

"Friday, come on," interrupts Peter with a whine. "I'm Spiderman. I use them every day. I'll have it under control, promise."

There is a short silence before Friday answers, sounding as unpleased as an AI can sound. "Mr. Stark will be informed as soon as you're safety is not warranted, Peter."

"Thank you, Friday! Couldn't ask for more," answers Peter with a bright grin. He had waited all day to test the new web shooters, annoying MJ as he wouldn't stop talking about it with Ned at lunch. He also didn't bother throwing the suit on, coming directly from the lab to the training grounds. As soon as the doors close behind him, Peter doesn't waste more time and jogs over to the wall that lies on the opposite. A few meters before reaching it, he speeds up and jumps. He crawls upwards with skilled movements.

"Let's see how these babies work."

With those words, Peter pushes himself from the wall and lets his arm shoot forward. A string of spiderwebs flings against one of the ceiling beams, hitting it with scary accuracy. Peter's fingers close around the web, and he uses the momentum to swing through the air. He lands with practiced ease on the ceiling beam at the other end of the gym, glancing down at his wrists with a thoughtful look. "The tensile strength is not bad, but I thought the elasticity would be better. Friday, can you please note that I have to look into that?"

"Noted, Peter."

"Thanks, Fri."

He continues testing the limits of the new webs by swinging around and jumping from high places to get a feeling for the strings' consistency, leaving it to Friday to take notes as he voices out his thoughts. Peter was about to climb down, satisfied with the information he had collected when something caught his eye. He squints at the ceiling near the bracing where the beam he stands on mends into the roof.

"Is that an arrow?"

As he steps closer, his suspicion is confirmed. The thing hanging from the ceiling is indeed one of Hawkeye's arrows. "How does no one notice that thing is still here?", wonders the teen loudly. It wasn't like Clint to leave his stuff lying around. Or, stuck in the ceiling in this case.

He stood on his tiptoes and reached for the shaft of the arrow, his inhuman sense of balance the only measure to keep the teen from tumbling down and breaking his neck.

"I recommend being careful, Peter. Those are one of Mr. Barton's new smoke-"

Peter didn't get the last few words as his fingers closed around the arrow, a winning grin growing as he gave the weapon a strong pull. The second his spidey sense goes off, he already holds one part of the arrow in his hands and stumbles when the air around him fills with a thick smock. He trips backward, trying hastily to get out of the space that fills with murky haze. Standing on nothing more than a two-inch wide metal pole, his next step back ends with his foot hitting nothing but thin air. With a surprised shout ripping from his mouth, the boy fell backward. Peter's arms flail around uselessly. In his panic, he blindly shoots a web upwards with both web shooters, praying that one of them would hit to keep him from busting his head. Both strings succeeded at sticking but in the most inconvenient way possible. In the chaos of the situation, Peter's aim had been off, causing the webs to ravel together as they lay diagonally on top of each other, sticking together as soon as they came in contact. Peter feels sick as the movement of his fall causes him to circle around like a spinning top, putting the ability of his stomach to keep his lunch to the test.

He ended up coming to a halt a few centimeters over the ground, dangling just above the floor, and although he knew his injuries would have healed quickly, he was more than happy to not have hit the ground, because that fall would have hurt like a bitch. To his luck, he had grabbed the web quick enough to avoid popping a shoulder, but with the newly developed webbing being more sticky and drying later than anticipated, he found himself stuck with bound wrists.

Peter's mouth stands open as he openly gapes, blinking a couple of times as the last few seconds start closing up on him before a low whine emits from the depths of his throat, heat rushing into his face.

"Holy frick. That was one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to me."

"Should I inform Mr. Stark?"

"Oh my God, are you nuts- ehm, I mean, no. Please don't. That's- that is really not necessary, Fri."

"If you say so, Peter."

He glances up at his wrists, assessing the situation. The web was enclosing his wrists completely, only his fingers sticking out of the gooey mess that hangs over his head. There was a solvent inside the web shooters, but he couldn't reach the trigger to spray it, a thick layer of web fluid lying on top. Peter puffs his cheeks before putting all his strength into his arms, trying to bust through the net. His face grew red with the force he put into his arms only to sack together in defeat.

Maybe the new webs are a tiny bit stronger than anticipated. Spiderman usually had no problem ripping his webs up, but dangling in the air and having his wrists bound at an awkward angle, Peter had a difficul time concentrating enough power to push through the strings. Peter throws a longing look at his backpack. If he could only get his hands on it. He always had a small amount of solvent in there for emergencies.

Peter lets out a sigh.

He needs help.

But not from Mr. Stark. Anyone but Mr. Stark. He wasn't ready for that level of embarrassment to hit on a simple Tuesday afternoon.

"Friday, can you ask Bruce if he has some time?"

"Dr. Banner is currently not in the tower. Would you like me to call him?"

"No, no thanks. What about Natasha?"

"Ms. Romanoff is currently not available."

Okay, now Peter realizes he does have a bit of a problem. While glancing up at his hands and testing again but without success the hold on his wrists, he contemplates how he could get out of this situation. Maybe if he manages to swing his feet upwards and wrap his legs around the string, he might manage to climb back up.

"Wow, how did the spider end up caught in his own web?"

Peter's eyes dart to the person who stands leaning relaxed at the doorframe of the gym, eyebrows raised in silent amusement.

"Clint, can you please help me?"

There was a fifty percent chance to get out of this unharmed if Peter played it right. He puts on the most hopeful and pitiful expression he can muster, silently begging the archer to show mercy. The corner of Clint's lip curls into a smirk that leaves Peter wondering if he did wrong in asking Clint to help out everyone. Not that he had much variety to choose from.

"Those are some cute puppy dog eyes you've got there, kid," comments the man as he walks over to Peter. "Any idea how to get you out?"

"There is some solvent in my backpack."

Clint turns and collects the bag. He pulls it open and roams through it while stepping back to Peter.

"How did you even end up like that?" the archer asks before pulling a small vial from the back and showing it to the dangling teen, who nods in confirmation. At the question, Peter pulls a grimace.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Clint looks up from the vial, a spark of interest glinting in his eyes. Catching on Clint's expression, Peter feels dread settling into the pit of his stomach. That had been the wrong answer.

"You don't want to talk about it?" asks Clint, and Peter keeps himself from whining as he watches the man putting the backpack down instead of helping him get the web off. The archer levels him with a knowing smirk, slipping the vial into his back pocket before crossing his arms over his chest. Peter knew that expression. He was 50% fucked.

"Care to explain what you mean by that?"

Peter didn't like how Clint's smile grew into a shit-eating grin as he tried pulling out an acceptable answer without adding fuel to the fire.

"Ehm, it's not that interesting, really. I wouldn't want to bother you with that story."

"I bet it was embarrassing," cuts Clint off, shifting his weight onto his right leg as he leans back, not looking like he's planning to help Peter anytime soon.

"Like I said, I'd rather not talk about it," mumbles Peter, avoiding the man's eyes. How the heck is he supposed to get out of this?

Clint was clearly enjoying this.

"I'll help you if you tell me what happened."

Yeah, no. Peter won't serve Clint high-class premium blackmail material of himself on a silver plate, thank you very much. Sensing the teen wouldn't spill, Clint let his hands fall as he stepped towards the teen, grin growing mischievous in a way that left the hairs on Peter's neck turn straight.

"Peter, I'm a trained spy and assassin. I have ways to make people talk. Now, do you want to tell me how you ended up like this?"

Peter knew Clint wouldn't hurt him, but the threat of what was about to come sent a shiver down his spine.

"Threatening teenagers now? That's low even for you, Barton," says Peter and tries to play the awful nervousness that spreads inside of him off, but Clint's trained eyes could read his unease like an open book. There was a reason Peter wears a mask when he fights. He sucks at keeping a straight face.

Clint chuckles before giving Peter a light push to the chest. The teen bites his lips as the spy's move acts like a reminder of the situation he's currently in, swinging helplessly back and forth, feet still hovering inches over the gym floor. His swinging stops with Clint grabbing the front of his shirt, keeping him from moving and simultaneously pulling him closer, bringing his mouth near his ear.

"Spill, little Spider," he whispers with a mock-threatening voice, but that was still enough to make Peter feel more than slightly on the edge. But he wouldn't back down now, not when the last shreds of his dignity are at stake.

"Over my dead body."

"Oh, Petey-pie," taunts Clint as he lets go of Peter's shirt, causing the teen to swing back. "I'll make you talk. Just you wait."

Peter eyes the man warily, who stretches his hand out, pressing it flat against his stretched-out midriff. He is left with no time to wonder what the archer was playing at when the fingers of the hand twitch suddenly, digging lightly into the flesh of his stomach. The movement makes him flinch violently, not expecting the ticklish spark shooting through his middle. His eyes dart up, ready to tell Clint to take his hand from him when he catches the man's expression.

He gulps.

Clint's face splits into an evil grin, and it dawns on Peter that the twitch of Clint's hand had not been an accident.

"What's gotten you so squirmy, Peter? You don't happen to be ticklish, do you?"

Flipping hell.

Clint knew exactly, how ticklish Peter was.

"That would be severely inconvenient, wouldn't it? You seem rather helpless right now."

Every muscle in the teen's body tenses at the words as his eyes are glued on Clint's hands that reach out for his sides.

"You can make this stop whenever you're ready," suggests Clint with the same shit-eating grin as before, hands around Peter's sides, ready to squeeze. Peter bites his lip to keep the tale-telling smile that threatens to slip onto his face in place. He could already feel Clint's fingers on his skin, knowing all too well what was about to come, and the anticipation was killing him. Clint seemed to know that too, the amused glint in his eyes making it harder for Peter to keep a straight face.

To Clint's credit, the spy gave him a few moments to change his mind before he started his attack.

The teen flinches as two hands tweak at his sides experimentally. A ticklish jolt ran through his whole body, and the muscles of his arms tensed up on instinct, but it didn't help make the squeezing that followed less ticklish.

"Are we trying to play tough?" teases Clint as he searches Peter's face for reactions, the latter biting his lips to keep from making noise. The chances of Clint stopping were low, but Peter's only hope was that the archer would get bored if he didn't break and let him go.

"Oh, Pete, you sure you want to do this? We both know how to get you to talk. All it takes is a little bit of this."

Peter didn't have time to wonder what kind of evil scheme the archer was planning. Even though his spidey sense warned him of something approaching, Peter couldn't do much in his current position but flinch like he got electroshocked when ten fingers unceremoniously dug into his rips. His facade crumbles instantly, loud laughter rolling from his lips as he flails around, trying to pull himself away from the wriggling diggets.

"Clihihhihihnt nohohohoh!" protests the teen through a wave of giggles before collapsing into himself when Clint claws at his stomach, vibrating his fingers into the sensitive area and sending the teen into a fit.

"Clint, yes!", teases Clint, mimicking Peter's high-pitched voice, grinning at the teen squirming helplessly under his tickling fingers.

"I didn't know our training included Spiderman."

Peter thanks whoever for getting a moment to suck in some oxygen when Clint lets up from him to glance over his shoulder.

"Oh, it doesn't. But I think training can wait. I have found something better than that."

"Something better than handing Sam his ass? I'm in."

Peter's head snaps up at the voices of the two newcomers. Peeking over Clint's shoulders, he catches sight of Sam and Bucky, clad in their training equipment, walking into the gym. His eyes fall back onto Clint, whose grin resembles a Cheshire cat when he sees Peter's expression and realizes who just joined them.

Now he was 1001% fucked.

Peter gulps when Bucky and Sam stand next to Clint, carrying similar amused but confused stricken expressions.

"Hell, how did you end up like that?" asks Sam, looking up at the string that keeps Peter in place. Clint pats him on the shoulder, shaking his head as if Peter were a lost cause.

"Don't try asking him. It seems there is some hot tea about how Pete-Pie ended up like this. Must be one hella funny story, but the squirt won't spill."

Sam snorts at Clint's words, eyeing the pitiful teen with a grin. The annoying bird-man found his predicament amusing and didn't even try to hide it.

"So you decided to torment him?"

Clint shrugs his shoulders as if the answer to that is obvious. Bucky crosses his arms, both metal and flesh bulging under his shirt at the movement as he gives a thoughtful look but not less amused than Sam.

"Why didn't you ask Friday if there is a video recording of it?"

At those words, Peter's eyes went wide. His reaction doesn't go unnoticed, and Clint's eyes sparkle at the realization that Bucky just found the answer.

Oh, hell no, he won't let that happen.

Before the spy can step into action, Peter all but shouts at the ceiling.

"Friday, activate protocol FTE-5!"

He waits with bated breath before Friday's voice echoes through the gym.

"Protocol FTE-5 is now activated."

The teen sags into himself in relief, chin leaning down onto his chest. That had been way too close for his liking. A finger pushes against his middle, making him flinch before looking up and into Sam's face, who looks down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey now, what did you just do, kid?"

Sam squints at him.

"Nothing," Peter replies quickly, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the man. Clint eyes the teen hanging in front of him suspiciously. Peter didn't like the look he was receiving.

"Friday, is there a recording of what happened before I came in?" he asks without taking his eyes off Peter's face, the latter acting as if his shoelaces were the most fascinating thing he had seen all day.

"I am sorry Mr. Barton. I am not able to answer that question."

Bucky tilts his head. He glances at the teen, the latter focusing his eyes everywhere but at one of the three men.

"You did this."

Peter shakes his head, picture-perfect innocence written over his face.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Clint's expression turns sour.

"Friday, what did Peter do fifteen minutes before?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Barton, that is classified information."

The three men stare at Peter with various degrees of bewilderment and amazement.

"You manipulated Friday? Is that what that protocol was about? Does Stark know about this?"

Peter didn't like how clammy his hands felt at the moment.

"I don't know what you mean. Friday sounds alright to me," answers Peter, voice a pitch higher than usual.

Sam scoffs and throws his hands up, mumbling something about kids and the Internet these days while Bucky studies the nervous teen.

"What is protocol FTE-5, Peter?"

Peter presses his lips into a tight line, not going to lose a single word about it. He would take that information to his grave.

Protocol FTE-5 is the result of him spending more than half of his time with the Avengers, worst of all, Tony Stark. He should probably mention that he loved working together, but there was only so much teasing a sixteen-year-old could take from his literal idol before he combusts. Tony had developed the habit of using Friday to enjoy himself on Peter's behalf. He let the AI record some of Peter's embarrassing moments in the lab or during their fights and play them whenever Peter was too annoying. At first, it had been funny, but after some time, Peter realized with shock that he did a lot of dumb stuff that shouldn't, under any circumstances, be presented to a broader audience, and with that, he means anyone other than Mr. Stark. To avoid getting killed by finding a way for the ground to swallow him whole after embarrassing himself again, Peter decided to take matters into his own hands. Thus, Protocoll FTE-5 was born.

"You know I like you, Peter, but that's dramatic even for you. Hacking into Friday and putting in a protocol to delete every recording Friday did of you in the last thirty minutes? Isn't that a major safety threat?" had asked Ned during one of their decathlon meetings, words whispered behind his hand.

"You don't understand, Ned. I'll die if things continue like this!" Peter had been nothing but serious about the matter. Getting reminded by Tony through video clips of himself that he kind off blew up the lab three times in one week was stressing him out more than he liked to admit, even though he knew Tony was only poking fun at him and not mad.

Ned had given him a skeptical look before he glanced around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation.

"What does FTE even stand for?"

Peter had given him his most serious expression.

"FTE - Fuck, that's embarrassing."

He had to admit, Ned's disappointed look kinda hurt his pride. He thought the name was good.

"That name is embarrassing. You are acting like a baby, Parker."

MJ had stood behind the two and rolled her eyes before throwing a ball of paper against his head to get his attention back into the meeting, leaving him with a beet-red face and his head in his hands. Ned had leaned over, poking his head with a pen to see if his friend was still alive.

"The name fits. That was really embarrassing."

Peter had wanted to die.

So, no, he wouldn't talk about it. Ever. Nothing could bring him to spill.

"We are back to not talking again? Well, tough luck, Parker. While I'm capable of mercy, I know someone who doesn't register that word in his dictionary." Clint tilted his head towards Bucky, who was sporting a menacing grin on his face.

Okay, Peter, don't let them intimidate you. They will let up if things get boring. At least, that is what he tries to tell himself as he holds his chin high, leveling Barton with a challenging smile.

"You're saying Bucky is illiterate?"

Sam honest to god, snorts at Peter's words and claps a hand onto Bucky's shoulder as he bends over, laughing into his fist. Although the joke is on Bucky, the ex-assassin's composure slips ever so slightly as a twitch of his lips upwards shows he was just as amused as Sam.

Clint, on the other hand, is for once lost for words. It doesn't happen often, but Peter just managed to leave the quickwitted spy flustered.

"I did not-, Bucky's is not-, oh, you know what, you'll regret that, kid."

Maybe sassing at Clint while dangling with bound wrists from the ceiling hadn't been his wisest idea. A nervous smile wound a way on Peter's face when Clint stalks over with a scowl, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows.

"Hey, how about we talk this out? Clint, please?"

If looks could kill, Peter would have died three seconds ago. Clint's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Oh, we will talk. After I'm done with you."

Oh my god, now he was utterly fucked. Like, absolutely inevitably fucked.

"You don't have to do this Clint, serious-NOHOHOHOHOHO!"

Peter violently pulls at the string holding him in place, a scream ripping from his mouth before a burst of hysterical laughter fills the entire gym. Fueled by the strong reaction, Clint continues digging his thumbs into Peter's exposed armpits.

"CLIHIHIHIHINT! PLEAHAHASE STAHAHAHAHAP!"

"What's wrong, Peter? Where is all of that sass now?" mocks the archer before he changes from using only his thumbs to all of his fingers to scratch and scribble along the sensitive pits, earning him a shriek and lots of bucking as Peter desperately tries to do anything to get the fingers away from his skin. Oh my god, it tickled so bad Peter thinks he's growing mad. The fingers dig into all his worst spots with deadly precision, rendering him into a squealing and widely kicking mess in mere seconds.

"Seeing this with my own eyes, I would almost conclude that he's ticklish," heard Peter Sam say over the sound of his laughter.

"What makes you think so?" asks Bucky with feigned surprise as the two just stand there, observing how Clint absolutely wrecks Peter. Peter doesn't know why their casual teasing causes him to grow even more embarrassed than he already was, but he feels his already reddened face heat up even more.

"Clint, I think you should let Mr. Tomato over here breathe. The kid looks like he's about to burst."

To his immense relief, the fingers retreated shortly after Sam's comment, giving Peter time to suck in precious air. He was panting, arms aching from straining himself in the unfavorable position. When his breathing calmed down and he didn't feel like his heart was about to burst from his chest, Peter dared to glance up. Nervousness washes over him as he realizes that the three men had been watching him collect himself.

"So Spidey, you think you can last against three Avengers?" asks Sam as he steps closer, a predatory grin on his face. The hair on his arms and neck stands up when Bucky starts moving. The taller man walks around him until he stands out of his vision, but Peter can feel him hovering over him from behind, and the knowledge does nothing but send his senses on edge.

"Are you ready to talk yet, Peter? If not, you don't see it, but Bucky here is ready to get into interrogation mode," informs Sam with a sadistic glee in his eyes. As on command, a pair of hands come into view, hovering just above his stomach, and Peter bites his lips, trying to keep the smile down that's forcing its way on his face. The hands begin to inch closer, barely hovering over his tummy, and Peter sucks his stomach in, trying hard to keep it together. When the hands shot forward, fingers wriggling tauntingly but not actually touching him, Peter's resolution breaks. He is immensely embarrassed by how quickly he crumbles.

"Get awahahahahy from mehehe!" squeezes Peter out between his panicked laughter. Clint grins in amusement, watching the squirming teen from the sidelines, giving Sam and Bucky a chance to have their fun but not leaving a moment to poke fun at Peter.

"He hasn't even started, kid. You won't last a minute, but you can make him stop now. You simply have to spill your dirty little secrets."

The three men wait, but Peter stubbornly shakes his head, not giving in.

"Well, we tried it the easy way. Bucky, go on."

Clint grins at the way the kid's eyes grow wide as the hands start coming into contact with his middle, and begins ruthlessly tickling him.

"NAhahahah BUHUHUHUCKY DOHOHON'T!"

He throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut tightly as an assault of ticklish sparks shout right from the place Bucky's fingers dig into his skin into his brain, leaving him in stitches.

"Let's take this up a notch." Sam grins and walks over to the screeching teen, ready to join the party. Peter's eyes shoot open as he feels a second pair of hands beginning to tickle him, seizing his hips and giving them a quick succession of well-timed squeezes. The feeling of four hands tormenting him became unbearable quickly. Peter's body acts on its own when he tensed his arms and pulled his feet up towards his chest. Before Sam could register what was happening, a pair of thin but strong legs closed around him, catching and trapping his arms against his waist and rendering him immobile.

"How did you manage that?" asks Bucky from behind Peter with amusement as he catches Sam's predicament.

"Come on, Peter. Let Sam go. You should stick to catching bank robbers or flies and not birds."

"Thehehere are spidehehrs thahahat cahahtch bihihirds!"

"Alright, nerd," teased Bucky and rolled his eyes before he claws with his right hand into Peter's ribcage while the other scratches teasingly into his exposed armpit.

"No, no, no, Buhuhuck, pleahahase dohohn't!"

"Let him go, and I'll stop," he suggests, tone playful.

"Youhu're lyhyhying!"

"Oh, how did you know?" asks Bucky, smirking and kneading into the kid's lean sides, earning more trashing and shrieking.

"Bucky, stop tickling him for a moment. I think he's going to break my spine at this point."

Sam pulls a grimace as Peter's legs squeeze tighter around his middle with every second.

"I think I can help with that."

Clint approaches the man, glancing over Sam's shoulder at Peter.

"Peter, let go of Sam."

Peter shakes his head violently, not thinking about giving Sam another chance to attack him.

Clint lets out a sigh before shrugging his shoulders.

"You leave me no other choice, kid."

Clint stands behind Sam and glances down where Peter's legs close around the man's midriff. He reaches out and quickly scribbles his fingers over the soles of the teen's feet. With a high-pitched shriek, the legs let loose, and Sam was about to let out a sigh of relief when a foot came in contact with his chest and sent him flying back a few meters.

"Shihihit! Sohohohrry Saham!"

He hears Bucky let out a shocked but not less amused laugh.

"You should wear shoes in the gym, Peter. Bruce or Tony will kill you if they find out you walk around here in just socks."

"I wahahas juhuhst testing out my geahahahar."

"Still, that's dangerous. Something could happen to your feet."

Clint reaches out to catch one of the flailing feet to give it a quick tickle, but Peter sees it coming and pulls them quickly close to his chest, scowling at the man as threateningly as he can while laughing his head off. It wasn't very threatening.

"Leahahahave them alohone, Clihint!"

Clint puts his hand up defensively, carrying a smirk on his face. "Okay, okay. No need to pull a Sam on me, kid."

"Hey!" shouts Sam from his place on the ground, grimacing as he rubs his chest.

"Clint's right, that's still dangerous," comments Bucky, and it drives Peter mad how the three were talking this causally while the ex-assassin did everything that leaves Peter laughing his head off.

"I dohohon't wear shohohes in the suhuhit eithehheher!" he protests as well as he could.

Sam frowns at that when he comes to a halt next to Clint, sending Peter a disapproving glance. "Don't let the public hear that. I can already see CPS getting sent after us. Excuse me, your enhanced spider toddler doesn't wear shoes while fighting DoomBots. We need to do a home visit. "

"I ahaham nohohot a toddlehehrr!" growls Peter, glaring at Sam.

"You are not? I'll bet I can make you sound like one."

Before Peter can ask what Bucky is talking about, a muscled arm wraps around him, finger hoking under the hem of his shirt and pulling it up. The arm stays wrapped around his chest, holding the shirt in place and exposing his middle to the cold air while simultaneously taking the last bit of room Peter had to move. He was now rendered completely immobile, and whatever Bucky was planning to do to him, Peter didn't know how much more he could take.

"Would you look at that? Is that a cute little tummy that begs for attention?"

Peter's eyes grew twice in size at the words and the tone of voice Bucky was using. Bucky cannot be serious about doing this.

"Does Pete-Pie's tummy want some tickles? Hmm?"

Peter didn't need to see the man's face to know he was wearing a massive shit-eating grin. If Peter had thought he had been embarrassed before, this was taking the meaning of being embarrassed to a whole new level. The worst thing about Bucky teasing him and talking to him like he was a three-year-old was the fact, that Peter couldn't shake off the nervous anticipation as he watched the metal arm creeping closer, fingers wriggling playfully just above his stomach.

"You still won't talk Pete-Pie?"

"Fuck off, Buhuhucky!"

Sam shakes his head as he watches Bucky messing with the kid.

"You see Barton, that is what I talked about earlier. I don't care about people telling me Spidey is a genius, that just now didn't sound very genius to me."

Clint grins at the words, shrugging his shoulders.

"Maybe he likes getting tickled?" he asks.

"Is that it, Pete? Do you like tickles? Like the little toddler, you are?" teases Bucky and starts scratching the tips of his fingers ever so lightly over his bare navel, causing Peter to scrunch his nose up as he tries to hold back the giggles that were building up in his throat. What Bucky did to him was nothing like the ruthless attacks from before. This was all gentle and teasing touches, dragging and wriggling fingertips lightly over his sides and stomach, searching for spots that made Peter twitch.

Peter was biting his lips, dreading to give Bucky the satisfaction of making any sound after getting humiliated like that, but the ex-assassin really knew how to fish for a reaction. It got harder and harder to keep the noises from escaping as the fingers wandered upwards, dangerously close to his ribcage. Catching onto the way the body in his arm tenses up, Bucky's smirk grows even wider, and he pulls his hand away, creating a false sense of security before he brings his head closer to Peter.

"I found your weak spot, little Spider," he growls into the teen's ear, and his hand shoots up, pressing his fingertips under the highest of Peter's ribs, and vibrating his hand but not in a ruthless manner from before. It did create just the effect he had gone for, breaking the last of Peter's walls down, and soon high-pitched giggles poured out of the teen's mouth. A wide grin splits Peter's face, and the childlike giggles cause the three men to grin at the sound filling the gym. As much as they liked teasing Peter, they all had to admit that his high-pitched giggles were nothing but adoring.

"Sure, you're sixteen and not three, Peter?"

Peter couldn't form an answer, too busy giggling his head off as the claw-like hand started vibrating into his belly, sending ticklish waves through his whole body. He could feel the heat in his head spreading down to his neck and chest, and he probably looked more flustered than ever before. The worst thing was that Bucky didn't seem to even think about stopping anytime soon, and Peter felt close to giving up.

"Okay, Gentleman, as fun as tormenting the kid is, we will end this here."

Peter had never felt more relieved to hear Tony's voice before. He listens half-heartedly as the man approaches the group before coming to a halt in front of him, glancing at him with a twitch of his lips.

"You're still alive."

"Just peachy, Mr. Stark."

"Good. Because I have a few things to discuss with you, Peter."

Peter catches himself as the string of web is cut and catches sight of Bucky, Clint, and Sam exiting the gym while Tony beckons him to follow him to one of the benches standing at the side.

Peter sits down while Mr. Stark pulls out one of the extra vials with the solvent for the web fluids. He holds his still bound together hands out, waiting for the man to spray the solvent and free him when he gets pushed back onto the bench.

"Mr. Stark?" asks Peter, staring wide-eyed at the man who had pushed him down.

"Oh no. You are not off the hook yet, Parker."

"I don't know what you are tal-"

"Ah ah ah," interrupts Mr. Stark and presses his finger against Peter's lips to keep him from talking.

"Care to explain why you hacked into Friday, Peter."

Oh fuck.

"Not the words I would use, but that sums it up well enough."

Peter didn't mean to say that out loud. He gulps when Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain himself.

"These three didn't manage to, but I know how to make you talk, Peter. Don't let it come to that," warns Tony and places a hand on Peter's stomach, keeping him from getting up.

"You saw all that?"

"This is my tower kid. What did you expect?"

Now Peter was seriously fucked.

#marvel tickle fic #ticklish! peter parker #tickling #tickle fanfic #spiderman #peter parker #bucky barnes #sam wilson #clint barton #falcon #winter soldier #hawkeye #marvel fanfic #ticklish peter parker

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harrystylesboobear · 1 year ago

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Dead Meat

Just a short one for you guys!! Bad with pronouns lol Ler bucky, lee reader, lee Steve Part two for Helpless helper

Y/n got involved in a t-word fight with the two super soldiers, soon her and Steve fall Victom of a fight of their own.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1”

You were gone by the time these words were spoken. However it seems as if you ran to the right person for help.

“Ok I got a spot” Clint said, amused at your panic.

“Follow me” He said as he lead you to the nearest air vent.

“In here”

“In the vent?” You said skepticl

“You wanna get out of this or not?”

“Yea, yea, fine.” you said as you climbed into the vent.

Once you were up there, you got in the perfect spot to be hidden, but still be able to see out. Soon you saw Bucky, as he walked up to Clint. Although you couldent hear what he was saying, you knew what he was going to say, and after they talked for a little bit, you felt shocked and betrayed as you saw Clint's eyes dart to where you were Hiding.

“Dammit” You said to yourself as you started to crawl through the vents to get to a new spot. But just as you were about to get away, you felt something grasp your ankle, and just then you were pulled out of the vent. You let out a squeal as you went down.

“AH! Bucky! Fancy seeing you here.”

“It seems to me as if you lied to a dear friend of ours.” He said and hinted towards Clint.

“I did not lie! I just let out some things.. You said as you started Giggling

“Very important things however” Clint said, and then grabbed you faster than you could comprehend what was happening.

As Clint heald you, Bucky Immedeatly went for the kill.

“AHAHAHABUHUHUHUBUHUHUCKYHYHYHYHYHY”

“Sorry, but this is what you get Doll.” Everyone knew he didnt mean his apology.

“Jees Buck, I know you told me it was bad, but I didnt think you meant this bad.” He giggled as he completed his sentence

“DOHOHOHOHOHNHT TEHEHEASEHE MEHEHEHEH”

“Aw why? Does it make it worse for ya?” Clint said this knowing it would make you blush.

Once your laughter became silent, they stopped.

“Learn your lesson Doll?”

“Yeheheahah”

He held you close as you giggled.

#tword content #tickle fic #ticklish reader #ler bucky barnes #lee reader #marvel tickle

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chalterdh22 · 1 year ago

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Day 17: Clint and Natasha in Interrogation

Lee: Clint Barton/Hawkeye

Ler: Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Summary: Clint wakes up and he’s about to be interrogated by an unknown person and his friend. Totally confused, she starts to use a method on him that only a few close people know about. But why would she do this?

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, so if that’s not your thing, don’t read. This is also a means to torture someone.

Clint’s head was throbbing. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t stand the bright light he was facing. He let out a groan to rub them but realized his arms were tied to the side of him and he leaned back in a chair, like a dentist chair. What the…” he mumbled to himself. Where was Nat? He quickly looked around the room to see if she was tied up too and didn’t see anything except this light, a table, and a door.

“Ugh….” he let out a low moan, realizing that he had a gag in his mouth. He couldn’t even remember how he got here. Nat and he were watching over a few people, just surveying them, when the lights went out and the next thing he knew, they were in here.

All of a sudden, the door swung open, and two figures came walking in. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw one was Nat. He didn’t recognize the other guy though. She walked in smiling, and not a friendly smile he could tell. What was she doing? Did she lose her mind? She other guy walked in with a toolbox open, and what seemed like tools. Great, he thought. The whole time he was looking, he was trying to get his wrists released from the ropes, which he realized were Nat’s own doing. He can’t get out of those.

He let out some muffled sounds when the one man said very softly, “Patient Clint. You’ll soon be able to tell us everything you know about SHIELD. Just stay still and rest while I gather a few other items. Pearl, please stay here and watch over our guest.” She turned to him, smiled, and nodded as he walked away.

When the door closed, she quickly spun around and got really close to his ear and whispered almost inaudibly, “You will have to trust me on this Clint. Whatever you do, do not tell him where Fury is. This will be over very soon.” He didn’t move his head, but relaxed realizing his partner was there for him. “Again, tell him nothing, no matter how bad it gets. Blink twice if you understand.” He blinked twice, now feeling more nervous. She better not let it get bad, was all he was thinking.

The door swung open again and the other guy brought more equipment in. “Pearl, do you think our friend here is ready to talk?”

“I think so,” she said. “What do you think Clint?” She pulled off the gag, which tasted horribly as he was spitting something out of his mouth. He didn’t say anything and just stared at them.

“So, you see, Fury has something we really need. But he’s really hard to pin down as you know. But we know that you know where he likes to hide out. Tell us about a place with coordinates, and we can end this really fast.” As he spoke he was walking around with a pair of plyers.

Clint was thinking Nat better intercede soon. Not that he hasn’t ever been interrogated before, but every man has their breaking point.

“Nothing, well, I can’t say I’m surprised. I heard about the Avengers’ reputations. Let’s see how long you last.” He started to lean in a take the plyers to one of Clint’s bound hands when Nat reached out.

“Wait! I have an idea!” She took him by the shoulder and led him away. She too was a master interrogator, so maybe she was trying to help him still. She better. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he looked confused.

“Well, your reputation does precede you Pearl, so I’ll take your word for it. Please proceed.” She smiled, nodded, and walked back to Clint, still clearly confused on what she said to him.

“I bet you’re a little confused right now. See, I know a few things about you from surveying you over the past few months. And I think we have a much better way of getting you to talk without all these medieval torture methods.” Clint’s mouth was slightly open, squinting, super confused by what she was even talking about. She leaned in one more time and whispered in his ear, “Just be able to last about 10 minutes.”

“What did you say my dear?” the other man asked her.

“Oh, nothing. Just saying how much I enjoy this method.”

“Indeed. Please proceed.”

She walked up to his exposed side, where he was wearing one of his vests. “Clint, are you sure you just don’t want to tell us now and save all this, embarrassment, pain and torture?” He kept a stern face staring right back at her. “Ok.”

She reached out to his side and started squeezing, not hard, but not gently either. It was enough to make him jump in the chair, but not move anywhere. “He-ey, what are you doing?”

“See, I know how ticklish you are and how you hate it and it’s almost unbearable, so here’s the deal, he’s going to let me play with you for about ten minutes. Just give him a location and this will all be over.” Clint was sweating hard. Not only was it true that he hated being tickled, but it was worse than other methods! And she knew this! He would kill her later!

“Really, tickling…… just let him take the plyers to me!” He tried to sound hard, but his voice was a little shaky. The other man saw this and smiling.

“My, my. This will be fun to watch!”

His heart was racing and drops of sweat were pooling down his neck. Nat shrugged her shoulders and placed both her hands into his armpits and started to massage them. Clint, squeezed his eyes shut, tears instantly forming. His mouth was pressed shut too and whimpers were begging to flow out of him. “St-stttoo-ooopp iiitt!” he quietly said.

She shook her head, now sitting on his lap getting more comfortable. And she started to play on his ribs, in no particular order. Clint threw his head back in a gasp and a moan. So, she dug harder, knowing where his weak spots were, and he busted out laughing and yelling at the same time!

“Come on Clint. I can keep this up all day. Just give us what we need to know, and this will be done.” Nat said sweetly. He glared at her with a huge smile he couldn’t wipe off his face. Curse words were shooting through his head directed to her. She knew this.

Nat shrugged her shoulders again and shifted back further on his legs and started grabbing his thighs. He hunched over and yelled out, “Noooo-nooooooo! Puuuh-leease!!!!”

“What was that? Do you have something to tell me. He really didn’t know how much longer he could take this. He was used to brutal force being an interrogation method, not this tickling crap!!! His body didn’t know what to do for this length of time. He kept shaking his head no, making all new noises, trying to keep his lips sealed. “Nothing? Hmmm, maybe your hips will help you talk.”

“No, no, please! Seriously, stop!!!”

“Really, you didn’t even last 5 minutes! We still have one MORE minute!” He knew what that actually meant, or hoped it meant. In one minute, help of some kind would be there. One minute was a long time. Before he could finish his thoughts though, she bared down and squeezed his thighs!

“Baahahhahahahahhaaaa! Waaaaaiiiittt!!!” He could not control his laughing anymore, to the point he started to gasp and go quiet.

Suddenly, the door blasted open, and a ton of SHIELD agents came rushing in, taking down the other man. Nat walked over to him, and revealed herself as an agent, before turning and walking away. She started to untie Clint, who couldn’t hear anything over his breathing.

“Sounds like you just ran a marathon, buddy!”

“Funny….” When she untied everything, he started to stand up but slumped over into her arms. “Wow, we need to tell Fury you need a vacation now.” He was shaking his head in agreement.

“I was about to break, Nat….. I was so close. Why did you do that?”

“Because I knew you and as ticklish as you are, I knew how long you could last and that this would not take you down.” He pulled back with her hands still on his shoulders. His breath was slowing down now.

“Thanks partner. Remind me never to get captured again with you on a watch. How did I pass out again? I don’t remember anything.”

“Oh, Nick had me spike your water.” She smiled and started to walk away.

“Nice. Thanks again I guess.”

“Anytime partner!”

#augtickletober2023 #tickletober #tickle fluff #tickle fic #the avengers #clint barton #black widow #hawkeye

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