summary: you drunkenly confess something to bucky. he makes sure to remember.
warnings: no use of y/n, gn reader, lee!reader, ler!bucky, established relationship, drunk reader for a part, one suggestive line from reader
word count: 1.8k
authors notes: i watched the winter solider and then only slept for four hours that night, and then when i had a nap during the day this came to me in my dream. quite literally.
///
Your hand slipped, tip of the key scraping against the door noisily.
"God damnit - piece of -" you hissed under your breath, trying to aim for the lock again. You hand swayed, aiming too high, then too far to the left, then too low. Huffing, you shook your arm out, hoping to reset it somehow. You aimed at the lock again.
"Come on, come on, come o-" you whispered.
The door opened.
You blinked. Looked up.
"Hey!" You called, grin splitting on your face.
"Hey." Bucky echoed, already stepping aside and ushering you in.
"I coulnd't get the-" you said, stumbling in over the doormat, bumping into the doorframe, and reaching out to push the door shut.
"The key, yeah." Bucky finished your sentence for you, hand coming up to steady you by your upper arm. "I heard you cursing it out."
"We need a bigger lock." You said, bending down to force your shoes off.
"Yeah?" Bucky asked with a light chuckle, already crouching in front of you to help with your shoes.
You looked down at him, immediately distracted. His hair was inky in the low light that barely filtered in from the kitchen. It looked really soft.
You weaved your fingers into his hair, brushing it back off his forehead in repetitive motions. It was even softer than it looked.
Bucky eased both of your shoes off, placing them neatly by the door like you always did. You kept your hands in his hair.
"Did you have fun?" He looked up at you, hands cupping the back of your calves.
"Bucky, it was so fun!" You exclaimed, lolling your head back dramatically. "I had so much to drink."
"I can tell." He teased, getting to his feet. His arm, warm and solid, wrapped around your shoulders and steered you towards the kitchen. "Let's get you some water."
"We danced, too." You told him, wobbling over to lean against the dining table. "The music wasn't that good but then Lady Gaga came on so we had no choice."
"Gotta dance to Gaga." Bucky agreed, handing you a glass of water.
"Gotta dance to Gaga." You nodded, the movement making your head swim. You grimaced, shutting one eye.
"You okay?" Bucky's hands rubbed your arms gently. You waved off his worry, taking a drink from your glass. "You didn't walk home, did you?"
You shook your head, swallowing. "Alex was the debi- devis- devig-"
"Designated driver." Bucky supplied.
"That." You snapped your fingers and pointed at him. "She drove us all back. Waited till I was inside the building."
"Good." His eyes were soft when you looked up at him.
"She's a gentleman." You said gravely.
The smile that spread on his face was blinding. "That she is."
You set the glass next to you on the table and leaned your weight onto Bucky. His arms wrapped around you protectively.
"You should come next time." You said, cheek squished into his collarbone.
"I thought the rule was no boyfriends allowed." Bucky sounded amused.
"Rule-schmule." You grumbled, making his shoulders shake with quiet laughter. "Would've been better with you there."
"Aw," his hands started trailing delicate lines over your back. "You flatter me."
You let out a small huff through your nose, relaxing against him, enjoying the tingling sensation from his fingers. Your eyes slipped shut. Bucky's shirt smelled faintly of cologne, familiar and comforting. Your focus divided between his hands and how his chest rose and fell slowly with each breath he took. You were warm, and comfortable, and you never wanted to move.
Bucky's hands caught on the back of your ribs, making you squirm.
"That tickles." You mumbled sleepily.
"Sorry." Bucky's voice was hushed, and his hands stilled, resting gently against your shoulder blades.
"It's okay, it's nice." You said, pressing your face further against his shoulder like a cat. "I like it."
"Oh?"
"Mhm. I like it when you tickle me." You continued, getting dizzy again as your brain turned more and more asleep. "You should do it more often."
"I see." You heard him say through the fog of sleep. He gathered you up in his arms, ignoring your groans of protest. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
@
You woke with a start, choking on half a snore.
You coughed half-heartedly, cleared your throat, and breathed deeply. Eyes still closed, you mentally assessed your situation.
Headache, yes, but no nausea. That was a good sign. It meant that while, yes you did get completely drunk last night, you had not gone over your limit.
You stretched your body carefully. Your legs and feet ached, and you vaugely remembered attempting a death drop to Lady Gaga. You groaned, turning onto your stomach. Your phone buzzed, so you forced your eyes open.
Your friend group chat had thirty-six messages. Twenty of those were pitcutes from last night.
You decided to deal with that later.
You turned in bed until you started tipping off the edge of the mattress, bracing your legs against the cold floor. Then, with great effort, you pushed yourself up by your palms. You paused, reassesing.
Still no nausea.
Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen.
Bucky stood at the counter, scraping butter onto some toast.
"Morning." He said over his shoulder when he heard you enter.
"Hi." Your voice was croaky. Bucky didn't comment, simply passing you a mug of coffee. "Oh, thank god."
You leaned your hip against the counter, taking a long drink. Bucky, finished with his task, placed the toast on a plate and slid it over to you. You moved the mug to your other hand and snatched a slice of toast, whipping it up to your mouth. Bucky leaned back against the counter not too far from you, holding his own mug.
He was looking at you curiously.
After a moment, you stopped mid-chew. "What?"
He didn't answer, but shook his head lightly to indicate nothing was going on.
"Did I do something last night?" You asked, suddenly nervous. "Oh god, was I a lot to deal with?"
"No, you were fine." Bucky was quick to reassure. He paused for a moment, then added, hiding his curving smile in his mug. "Chatty."
Dread crawled up your spine. You lowered the toast back onto the plate.
"What did I say?"
"Nothing." Too quick.
"Bucky."
"Nothing bad." He amended, smile still in place.
"But something." You insisted. "I embarrassed myself, didn't I?"
"I wouldn't say it's embarrassing." Bucky said. "Cute, though."
"Are you going to tell me what I said, or are you going to stand there all smug?" You demanded, setting your mug down on the counter as well. You tried looking stern, but you were too flustered by how amused Bucky looked. Almost gleeful.
"I don't know," he mused, teasing, "I kind of like you like this."
"I'll freak out if you don't tell me." You threatened, feeling anxiety crawl up your throat.
"You'll freak out if I do."
You covered your eyes with your palm. "So it is bad."
"Hey, come on." The mug clinked against the counter as Bucky set it down. His hands came to your shoulders, squeezing in reassurance. "I promise it's fine. You were fine. You didn't say anything bad, or embarrassing, or weird. I think it might make you feel a little exposed, though."
"Just say it." You lowered your hand and looked at him. That odd half-smile, part satisfaction, part glee, returned to his face.
"Well," he said, slowly dragging his hands down your arms. "It involves a certain activity. And your enjoyment of it."
You frowned at him. "What, did I try to climb you like a tree? Why is this even a conversa-"
"No, no." The smile widened. His hands trailed to your sides. "It's more to do with making you laugh."
You watched him for a moment as your mind, slower because of the hangover induced headache, absorbed his words. When it did, you felt your face heat.
"Oh my god." You whispered in horror, closing your eyes. Bucky drew you in closer.
"You said tickling is nice." He continued, happiness dripping from his voice. "That you like it when I tickle you."
"I'm going to walk off a cliff." You groaned, bringing a hand up to your face.
Bucky dipped his head closer to your ear. "You said I should do it more often."
You froze completely, as if, maybe, if you didn't move - didn't breathe - then this situation would disappear.
"I'm not hearing a 'no'." Bucky said.
You paused in your sprialling for a moment. Considered the circumstances.
Technically, you reasoned with yourself, this was probably the best case scenario for you. The difficult - and embarrassing, regardless of what Bucky thinks - part was done. You didn't have to work through anxiety and self-consciousness and freaking out to get the words out to him. You just said them, no second guessing.
Now you culd just…enjoy the results.
And still freak out a little.
So, instead of pulling back, shutting yourself away, pulling your walls back up, you wrapped your arms around Bucky. Your cheek pressed into his collarbone, in much the same way as the night before.
"It's not a 'no'." You said quietly. "But you're not allowed to be mean about it."
"I'd never be mean." He reassured, hands tentatively starting to move over the fabric of your tshirt. When you didn't pull away, he sped up slightly, just enough to make you shiver and squirm. "You're not really laughing."
"Mm." You hummed, suddenly feeling bolder. "Maybe you're not good at this."
"Oh, okay." Bucky said, instantly scribbling against your ribcage. You burst out laughing immediately at the change. "I see how it is."
"Alright, alrihight!" You pushed at his shoulders. "I'm sohory!"
"Are you?"
"Yehes, I take it back!" You twisted to try and ease away from the feeling. "Please, I have a headache."
"Okay." Bucky obediently stopped his hands. "But only because of the headache."
He let you step away from his embrace, and you leaned over the counter to grab your coffee. Bucky waited until you were taking a sip before speaking.
"We'll continue when you're not hungover."
You choked on the coffee, coughing and spluttering, warm liquid dripping down your chin and the front of your tshirt. Bucky burst into bright, unashamed laughter.
You ignored him, as well as the heat in your cheeks, and meandered around his shaking body to grab a paper towel. Bucky's laugh filtered out to a soft snicker behind you as you dried your face.
"Let me get you some painkillers." He said, mirth still playing around in his voice. His hand trailed lightly over your lower back as he walked past you to the medicine cabinet.
Silently, you raised your eyes to the havens with a plea.
You may have accidentally unleashed something too flustering to deal with.
Summary: Johnny finds out the reader is ticklish and suddenly can’t fall asleep until he hears them laugh. So he makes it his mission to tickle you at least once before bed. Tonight, he decides to take advantage of the full body mirror in your room and show you how he likes to tickle you.
Characters: Ler!Johnny Storm, Lee!reader
The reader is gender neutral in this and there is no use of Y/N, as always this is a tickle fic so be advised!
—————————————————————————
Johnny was playful with you.
It was how he showed love right before he let himself be soft. A flirty comment before a tight hug, a smack on the rear before a gentle kiss, and as of late, a tickle right before bed.
He had been antsy recently, a few rough missions and long hours made him miss you more than he expected. So after a movie night turned makeout session, his hand brushed against your side a little too much. Ever since he heard that first giggle, he found his fix for a long day.
That night, Johnny was sleeping over at your apartment. It wasn’t unusual for him to do so, if anything you preferred the nights when he slept over. Even with his new… habit.
You were getting ready for bed by the mirror, fixing yourself up, when Johnny came behind you with a hug. You welcomed it, of course.
“Getting ready for bed yet?” You asked as he planted a kiss to your cheek. Johnny just let out a soft hum and held you tighter.
“Mm, not yet. There’s one thing I need first. It’s super small, totally quick.” Johnny’s fingers started to trace up and down your sides, just testing the waters.
You squirmed slightly in his arms, a smile grew on your face. You hadn’t completely caught on to his plan yet, but this was definitely suspicious “Johnny, that— I’m sensitive there.” You murmured softly.
“Sensitive or ticklish?” Johnny’s voice was low and playful in your ear. Like he was trying to tickle you with his words. As his fingers creeped up towards your ribs, you jerked forward. Johnny easily pulled you back against his chest and chuckled.
“Ah ah, not yet. I still need something from you, firecracker. I can’t sleep without hearing you laugh. Surely you can spare a minute or two, right?”
His touch was getting bolder now, still gentle but slowly applying more pressure. He began to trace each of your ribs and snuck small pokes between them. You glanced up at the mirror in front of you and felt your face go warm when he met your gaze there. His smirk was incredibly cocky, like he was waiting for you to look up.
“Now that’s a good idea. Why don’t you watch? I’ll show you all my favorite tickle spots on you.” Suddenly you felt one of Johnny’s hands guide your chin to face the mirror. He adjusted his other arm to keep you pinned against him.
“Johnny, it’s late. Aren’t you tired?” You said as you watched his fingers flutter up your ribs. The smile on your face was evident now, along with the growing blush on your cheeks. You felt Johnny kiss your cheek again before poking up and down your side.
“Sure I am. But seeing your adorable smile gives me so much energy! Just look at how cute you are!” Johnny’s smirk had become a smile matching yours the second you started giggling. His pokes turned into scribbles as he finally tickled you for real.
“J-Johnny! Hahaha! Wait!” You jerked forward but Johnny just held you tight and continued. You could see him smirking in the mirror as he leaned down to murmur in your ear.
“Now right here is my favorite spot to start with. You’ve got such ticklish ribs. It always gets you really squirmy which, by the way, is freaking adorable. Let me show you.” Johnny turned you to the side a bit but kept your face towards the mirror.
“See these ribs right here?” He poked a few of your upper ribs, which caused you to let out a particularly loud squeal. “These bad boys are the sweet spot. It gets you nice and warm for the good stuff.” Johnny chuckled, loving how shy you were getting with each detailed explanation of your tickle spots.
“Johnny I already know where I’m ticklish! You don’t need to show me!” You replied before being cut off by a squeal when Johnny gave those upper ribs a few pokes.
“Well duh. Everyone knows where they’re ticklish, but they don’t know how to be tickled. You gotta get someone, ideally a ridiculous handsome Good Samaritan like me, to show you. Like for example, you know your stomach is ticklish. But did you know about this sweet spot below your belly button?” Johnny’s hand went from your ribs to the spot he just described. As soon as his fingers started tickling that spot, you burst into more laughter.
“Yes I did—! Hahahahaha! Johnny!”
“Oh you did? Guess I exploit this spot too much then. Oh well, plenty of other places to show you.”
Johnny had turned to to face the mirror again now, and was giving you a full tutorial on how ticklish your stomach was. He had even let go of your chin so his other hand could push up your pajama top for easier access to your stomach.
“If you try to close your eyes or turn your head away from the mirror, I’m tossing you on the bed and giving you more raspberries then you can count. What’s the point of a tutorial if you don’t watch it, right?”
You squealed as Johnny talked you through how to tickle your navel, you snorted when he showed you the right pressure for tickling your abs, and you squirmed when he pointed out the correct way to tease you so his touch would tickle even more.
“…and I’ve noticed you react when I wiggle my fingers above your stomach like this. See? You’re squirming already! Whispering in your ear works well too. You seem to like when I tell you you’re going to get tickled, or if I just say tickle. Like if I went ‘tickle tickle tickle’ as I tickled you.” Johnny explained, knowing the effect his words had on you.
“Johnny I—!”
“I know, I know. It’s late and you’re far too adorably ticklish to be tickled all night long.”
Just as it looked like Johnny was going to let up, he leaned down and pressed a raspberry to your neck before letting go. Of course, you yelped and covered your neck as you giggled. By the time you whipped around to tell him off, he was laying in bed with that signature smirk.
“All tickled out?”
“I hate you, Johnny Storm.” You grumbled as you crawled into bed next to him.
“I know! I didn’t even go for your underarms! Total screw up on my part, next time I’ll make sure to—!” You cut off his teasing with a kiss. He had done enough to make you blush tonight, and if he kept going there was no way you were getting any sleep.
“Love you, firecracker.”
“I love you too, Johnny.”
You turned off the lamps and got under the covers with him. And finally when you were comfortable in his arms, he spoke.
“I noticed you never fought back. Am I that good at tickling? Or maybe you just like it.”
That earned him a pillow to the face before he finally fell asleep with you in his arms, already dreaming about doing it again tomorrow night.
synopsis: When cabin fever reaches boiling point, your teammates' boredom turns into a test of your stamina. After a bit of tickling sends you crumbling to the mat during training, you're goaded into proving you wouldn't spill state secrets if an enemy found your weak spots... by subjecting yourself to the hands of the God of Mischief.
wc: ~5200
pairing: Loki x female reader (flirtatious). Bucky, Thor, Steve also included platonically.
cw: MINORS DNI, swearing, use of physical restraints, interrogation scenario, tickling (a lot of it. this is a tickle fic)
extra content warning: this story contains a faux-interrogation scene. the reader consented to it and has the ability to stop it at any moment. i do not usually allow the word "stop" to be ignored in a tickle fic - this fic is the exception because the reader has a safe word. The tickling in this feels a lot more intense (to me) than my previous fics so please be warned.
Your fate was sealed before it even started.
It happened too fast to control.
It started so innocuously. You were locked in a spar with Loki. Parrying high, pivoting low, flirting around that usual edge of real violence.
You had been sharp today - precise, clean, dangerous. Steve was nursing a bruise. Bucky’s jaw was red where you’d clocked him. Even Thor looked impressed, his cape torn at the hem where your blade had snagged it mid-spin.
But Loki always had a way of slipping past your guard.
You got the sense that he'd figured out the softest spots of you - mentally and otherwise - long ago. That he'd... catalogued them. That he took great delight in silently holding the knowledge of where to press. And how. He could get under your skin like no one else could. Burrowing deeper with heated looks at unpredictable moments, then ebbing back with pure professionalism at others.
It kept you humble when it came to facing him on the mats.
Usually.
Today... you didn't know what it was. Maybe the thrill of landing solid hits on two super soldiers and a Norse god. Maybe you got cocky.
Maybe the curl falling loose from the hair knotted low at his nape was just too distracting.
But you tried a move too risky, and he slipped past your guard. You caught his brow raising brow as he evaded your fist. The micro-second comment in the gesture went something like:
You really thought that would work?
Yes. It would've worked against a lesser fighter. The fact that you thought it might work against him... well, that was paramount to insult. Not something he'd let slide. Not when you made clear, time and time again, to all of these super-people: going easy on you wouldn't help be better.
So they didn't go easy - but that didn't mean they'd meet your mistake with a punch that could shatter your sternum. Usually, you'd just get pushed off balance, or pinned to the mat, or locked in some uncomfortable position until you could explain what you'd done wrong. Which was fine. It all helped.
Today, however, it seemed Loki wanted to teach you an extra little lesson.
His palm swept up, thumb hooking into the soft space under your arm. You slammed your bicep down on reflex, wincing, trapping his thumb as his fingers wrapped around and pressed into the sensitive muscle under your scapula.
His fingers didn't stop at pressing. A choked gasp was forced from your mouth, your body jolting before your mind realising that his fingers were wiggling, you were squirming, he was tickling you.
Your knees buckled, eyes wild and flying to his calculated stare.
He watch you as you slowly sunk lower, his head cocked, his smirk spreading when the first startled, hapless giggle bubbled over your lips.
Get away get away get away- every single base animal instinct flooded into flight. You pushed back on your heels, dislodging his hand from under your arm as your backside hit the floor. You were spluttering, panting, giggling - fucking giggling, of all things - and you felt yourself moving to scoot back, eyes fixed on the god standing above you.
He didn't press his advantage. He didn't have to. He just stood over you, that same brow arched, blue eyes glinting with something cold and curious and satisfied. "Well," he murmured. "That's new."
You clenched your jaw, regaining composure, forcing yourself back up to stand. "Dick," you grumbled, straightening your clothes as warmth crept up your neck.
"Fascinating, really," his smirk grew, eyes scanning over you. "Have you always been so-"
"Shut it," you warned, glare cutting to him.
"Oh no," he gave a single shake of his head. "You're not getting out of this one."
Not after what you just tried to pull, was the unspoken subtext.
Shit. You should've known better than to try such a cheap trick on a god with an ego the size of the fucking continental United States.
Loki locked his fingers behind his back, started pacing around you, appraising. “Battle-hardened Avenger felled by a few seconds of tickling…" He swung his gaze to the others. More specifically, Steve. "You didn't think to train this out of her?"
Steve had straightened, fists gripping the ends of the towel slung around his neck, eyebrows raised. "Train?"
Bucky tilted his head, watching you like a hawk. "Huh."
"Oh, come on," you started, rolling your eyes, hands on your hips, trying to brush it off. "This is not something that requires training."
“You squealed,” Bucky said, grin now forming.
“I did not.”
"You crumbled," Steve grimaced with a playful edge behind it.
“Like wet paper,” Loki added. "It was rather... adorable, actually."
"This could be a problem," Thor hummed in thought. "Could it not? If your enemies learn of this."
Your head snapped to him. Then your eyes back to the others.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
The team had been without mission for almost two weeks; the boys were bored. And you'd just handed them some free entertainment.
You took a measured breath through your nose, and assured Thor: "They won’t."
"But if they did..." Steve started, slowly.
You turned. He was looking at you - not mocking, not smug. Just… calculating. Thoughtful.
You frowned. "Then what?"
"They’d have leverage," Bucky said.
"I wear full body armour."
"Armour can be compromised."
You could feel the shift happening.
The slow, creeping change in the air.
Loki was already grinning again, full teeth. "Pressure point training, perhaps?"
You scoffed. "Absolutely not."
Thor crossed his arms, ducking his head as if weighing the option. "It may be wise."
You crossed your own, arguing, "There's no proven method of desensitisation; you can't train someone out of being ticklish, Loki's just stirring mischief."
But Steve was quiet, eyes shifting to Bucky. Bucky’s arms were crossed too now, mouth twitching, his eyes finding Steve's.
You clocked the exits.
Three of them. One closest, but Thor stood near. The second was by Steve, and Loki, in his pacing, had subtly moved to block the third.
Fucking shit.
"Let’s just say," Bucky started, shrugging one shoulder, "we’re in the field. You’re caught. Someone finds a sweet spot-"
"-and they want to know where some files are hidden," Steve adds.
Loki hums in agreement, faux-consideration painted across him. "Security codes... contingency plans..."
You shifted from one foot to the other, hackles raising. "This is not a realistic scenario. On what planet would I ever be tickled for information?"
"Several," Thor nodded thoughtfully, looking to Loki. "At least four in this universe alone."
"Hmm, yes," Loki confirmed. "And I do believe in some factions on Sakaar."
You rubbed your temples. "This is not happening," you said. Mostly to yourself.
"There’s no harm in proving you’d withstand it," Steve said, voice calm. It almost sounded reasonable.
Your eyes flicked to him. You scoffed again. "Don't use your Captain America voice on me like you actually-"
He met your gaze evenly. And you stopped talking.
Because suddenly... you knew.
He wasn’t joking.
He was serious.
Not cruel. Not cold. Just… decisive. Like an older brother about to teach you a hard lesson for your own good.
You felt the breath stick in your chest.
"Steve. C'mon."
He straightened up, slow.
Bucky’s grin widened.
Thor stretched his arms with a lazy flex.
Loki turned toward you, smirking.
Your stomach dropped clean through the floor. Bucky took a step forward and you flinched, body readying to bolt.
"Hey," Bucky said, lifting his hands like he was trying to ease the tension. "You don’t have to prove anything."
You glared. "That’s exactly what this is."
"No," he corrected, smile just shy of cruel. "This is about making sure you don’t give up state secrets just to make it stop."
Your face burned. "I would never-"
"Good," Loki cut in, eyes glittering. "You're confident. You'll have no issue proving it, then."
You blinked. "What?"
Steve’s voice was low. Final. "We should put it to the test."
And just like that, the temperature in the room dropped. Your heart slammed into your ribs.
You were boxed in. Outnumbered. Outplayed.
"Steve. You’re not seriously suggesting simulating an interrogation where I'm..." you winced at the mere thought - betraying your nerves.
He shrugged in that infuriatingly calm, Captain America way. “Look, I trust you. But you always say training should cover every angle. This is just... one of them.” He tried not to smile.
You hated how much they were enjoying this. Bucky wasn’t even hiding his grin. Thor was scratching his beard thoughtfully, nodding like this was all so fucking reasonable.
Your jaw hung slack, you glared at Steve. "You're seriously gonna make me do this?"
Steve's head went to the side in thought. "No. It's your choice."
Loki didn’t even pretend. His smirk stayed plastered across his face like he had been waiting its whole life for this moment. "Of course, we'd never force you to prove it..." Loki raised his hands in surrender. "Not if it would be too much for you."
Okay. Now your pride was involved.
Loki continued. "If you're afraid... you just can say so."
He knew exactly how to bait you. It was so obvious.
But it still fucking worked. And that was on you.
You sucked your teeth, arms still crossed, jaw tense, looking between the varying degrees of smug in your teammates.
And a thought passed over you. About Steve. His leadership, his honour, and the way you trusted him so intrinsically with your life you knew he'd never let something like this go too far. So your eyes met his.
“Well?” He asked, calm and expectant.
You let out a tense breath through your nose.
"I'll follow your orders, Cap," you said, dropping your arms, squaring your shoulders. "What'll it be?"
.
.
This was one of those freeze-frame record-scratch moments where the narrator says 'Yep - that’s me. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this position.'
You flexed your fingers before gripping the edge of the armrest. The cuffs were snug but not uncomfortable. The chair itself - fetched by Bucky while the terms of the test were set - wasn't too bad, either. Cushioned seat and back, padded cuffs securing the wrists to the armrests and ankles to the front legs. It wouldn't hold any of the men around you, but you didn't have lightening or serum in your veins.
One small test proved no give, no rattling, was enough for that little molten thread of helplessness to start curling down your spine. All part of the mind games.
Trying to relax into the chair, your eyes landed on Loki, who was approaching you with all the slow, deliberate lethality of a black panther.
Of course, he was the one chosen to... do this.
His hand reached out and tested one cuff. "You seem tense."
"Bite me."
He chuckled, beginning to circle the chair slowly, trying to get in your head. Trying to build tension. It was working.
"The objective is simple. Don't give up the code word." His eyes flicked to Steve and Bucky. "Have you decided on what that word will be?"
Bucky nodded once, calling out, "cucumber."
You groaned. "That is the stupidest-"
"Exactly," Steve said. "You won't say it by accident. You try to hold out. You say it - that's surrender."
You felt Loki's fingers rest against the back of the chair. "Do you understand the rules, agent?"
You sniffed, jaw tight. "Don’t say the fucking vegetable."
"You ready?" Steve crossed his arms, failing to hide his amused smile.
No one in this room was under the impression that this was anything other than an exercise in the folly of boredom and pride. But here you were, about to hit play on that that freeze-frame record-scratch moment, and you wondered why the hell you ever agreed to this.
You did have an out - whenever you wanted it, you could say the word - but that steady fire inside you was stoked. White hot. You'd be damned if Loki snuffed it.
You'd be damned if he won.
"Ready," you confirmed.
He began.
Loki's touch was feather-light at first. Deceptively gentle. Fingers trailing over your sides like whispers.
They wanted a show? You'd give them a show. You'd show them exactly what you'd do if this was an enemy situation.
You flinched. "What the fuck are you doing?" Your head swung around, wearing a mask of confusion, fear, and pure innocence.
Loki's eyes narrowed. Ah. He seemed to say. This is how you want to play.
His voice was ice. Frostbitten. Severe. "What's the code word, Agent?"
"Wha-" you jerked again, eyes darting down to see his fingers at your sides, pressing a little firmer. Seeking. "I don't- what are you doing?"
He didn’t fumble or poke randomly. No, he searched.
"I'm under strict orders to not leave a mark, Agent," Loki's cold voice sounded vaguely distracted. "You have a code word I need..."
Then he found a spot. Just under the lower edge of your ribs, to the side. Your breath caught. Muscles locked. He paused.
"And I think I've just found a way to get it from you."
He wasn't clumsy. Not even a little.
"What code word? What are you even talking about? What-"
You stopped, looked down, watched as his middle finger and ring finger readied. You felt his other palm flatten against the opposite side of your waist in preparation to keep you in place.
You opened your mouth to say something, but then his fingers moved.
Sensation exploded like a switch had been flipped. Your hips jolted in the chair, a strangled sound caught in your throat as he pressed into that cluster of nerves with terrifying precision. Not a scratch or a dig - no, he hooked and circled slowly, keeping a maddening pressure on just the right spot. You were squirming violently in seconds, laughter ripping out of you against your will.
"Shit- Loki, fuck-" you broke your character, gasping between fits of laughter, voice hoarse and breaking. You tried twisting away, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
"Code word," he demanded.
You scrambled to collect your thoughts. Okay - okay - you could work with this. Fortify your mind. Let your body react. You tried to get a grip. Tried to find his rhythm and tell your brain it was no grave threat.
But half a minute later and he hadn't eased off. And it was only tickling more with every passing second.
"Please!" You gasped out, shaking your head. "I don't know what you're-"
He doubled - the palm against your other side began mirroring the same pattern with eerie symmetry. Pinpoint accuracy into that soft spot. Every movement surgical. Like he’d done this a thousand times.
Somewhere in the haze you sense him leaning down, felt his breath hot against your ear. "I know you have what I'm looking for."
"I don't!" you squealed, head hitting back against his shoulder as you twisted helplessly, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. "Fuck- please stop!"
"I can't stop this. Only you can. Say the word," he said softly.
You whimpered through breathless giggles as you tried to collect yourself enough to respond. "I don't- fuck- I don't know what you're talking about."
"I don't believe you."
His pointer finger joined the fray and your body convulsed with laughter, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He hadn’t even moved from that godforsaken spot on your ribs. And he hadn’t lost rhythm once.
"Fuck!" You thrashed, as much as the chair would let you. "I- this is- this is inhumane!"
A low hum by your other ear. The other devil on the other shoulder. "You're in control, Agent. You can make this stop any time."
He didn’t move fast. He didn’t need to. It was the control that was killing you. The way he’d learned your body in seconds. That single spot already made your arms jerk, your breath hitch, your laughter take on a desperate edge.
"Make no mistake," he murmured. "I'm going to win. You really think this is the worst it can be? Give me the word. Now."
"I don't have the fucking word!" you shrieked between wheezes, before falling into a new spout of laughter. You gave a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sob, it was hard to tell. Loki’s wicked hands hadn't stopped.
"She's doin' good," Bucky observed, tilting his head. "Holding out. The denial is still convincing."
"Stubborn," Thor nodded with a proud smile. "Like a goat."
"She’s trembling," Loki noted, sounding pleased. You were - your thighs tensed, stomach quaking with every new ripple of sensation.
Without warning, he shot his hands downward.
You practically launched out of the chair when he reached the top of your hip, just above your belt line. Another pressure point. The nerves there sent shocks across your pelvis, up your spine. It was like your body didn’t belong to you anymore.
"No- no, no, no-!" you laughed, voice wild now, cracked from overuse.
"You’re strong," Loki said quietly, voice still near your ear, breath warm on your neck. "But not unbreakable. I’m going to find where you crack."
You turned your face away, blinking tears of mirth from your lashes. "I’m going to kill you when this is over."
"I look forward to it," he said, moving inward to the sliver of skin on your lower stomach, scratching with feather-light precision.
You jolted again, high-pitched laughter tearing out of your lungs, knees bucking instinctively as he zeroed in.
Cucumber. It was on the tip of your fucking tongue. So you bit down on it. Sealed your lips as best you could.
Loki leaned in. "What's this? Trying to keep quiet now?"
You swallowed it. Shook your head.
A particularly cruel and precise tickle along the dips of your hips pulled a shrieking laugh from the loud place in your throat, wrists pulling against the cuffs.
He chuckled, knowing he was closer to winning.
So he went back to your ribs.
Your laughter returned in full, broken and helpless, your face hot with fury and embarrassment.
But still, you didn’t say cucumber.
You'd be damned to let him win after all of this.
Loki’s voice dropped, barely audible now. "You’re going to lose," he whispered, "So be a good girl, and surrender. Just say the word."
Your mouth opened. Then closed. You shook your head violently.
Your pride was still stronger, even as your breath was now ragged, chest rising and falling as you jerked against the cuffs, muscles locked and twitching from the relentless tickling, even as your laughter had taken on a half-wheezing, half-growling edge.
Loki hadn’t let up for a second, his hands maddeningly precise, but then...
He stopped. Pulled his hands away.
You gulped air. Relished in the reprieve. Wondering if-
"Don't think for a second I'm done with you," his voice curled around the base of your neck. "Tell me the code word."
You panted, head lolling. It had only been a few minutes, you knew that, but it had felt like a fucking lifetime. Shit.
"You're not listening," you let defeat permeate your tone. "You got the wrong person. I don't... I don't have what you want." You gave a weak tug at the cuffs, acting the part.
"Oh, you're very good," Loki praised in a dark chuckle.
You felt him grip the back of your chair. And you knew what he was planning.
"Wait-"
He pulled. The chair tipped backward as he lowered it slowly, until the rear legs landed on the floor and you were laying on your back, head against the mat.
You thrashed instantly. "Wait. Wait- fuck," you winced.
He moved with a maddening slowness, shooting an amused glance to the chuckling onlookers.
"Don't you fucking dare."
But he stopped in front of where your ankles were cuffed, your boots perfectly level with where his hands naturally rested at his sides.
"Uh oh," Bucky laughed outright. You shot him a pissed off yet wary glance.
Steve laughed. "You can say the word," he reminded you, but there was a teasing note behind it.
That smugness nudged you to get back in the zone. To prove them all wrong. Make them all pay.
Loki tugged. The first boot came off with a soft pull. And then the second. The cold air hit your socked feet like a ominous wind, curling in the atmosphere like dread.
You winced again. You weren't prepared. You weren't prepared. Feet were always protected, armoured, out of reach. You can't remember the last time someone touched your feet, much less-
"I've seen that look before," Bucky clicked his tongue. You shot him a nervous glance. His eyes met yours but he spoke to the others: "That's the look of someone who knows they're in trouble."
You weren’t wearing thick standard-issue tactical socks. No, of course not. You’d thrown on some stupid breathable pair. They were thin - too thin.
You shot an indiscernible look to the Captain.
He shrugged. Giving you that gleam in his eye that said: You can make this stop any time you want. All it'll cost you is pride.
You licked your drying lips, turning back to Loki. His hands hadn't touched you yet. Still, he was studying your reactions.
You kicked, knees jolting, but your ankles didn't move. He smirked.
"You've gone quiet," he said, cool and detached. "Is that fear?"
"Fury," you seethed. "Pure. Fucking. F-fffrrmm-!"
You bit off the noise as his fingers barely stroked across the arch of your right foot. It was a featherlight graze, and it'd already sent pressure prickling behind your eyes. You swallowed a whimper, sealing your lips, squeezing your eyes shut.
He hummed. "Interesting."
Then he began in earnest.
His fingertips pressed into your arches with a kind of maddening detachment. Methodical. Exploring. Not scratching or scribbling like some fumbling kid; no, he pressed, kneaded lightly, then circled. You shrieked. His thumbs dragged slowly under the balls of your feet. Your entire body bucked against the restraints.
"NO!"
Laughter then burst out of you, unfiltered and broken. It was worse than your ribs - infinitely worse. You weren’t used to touch here, weren’t braced for it. It was raw, vulnerable. Your laughter turned desperate in seconds.
"NO! LOKI! PLEASE NOT THERE!"
But that wasn't the code word. So his hands didn’t stop. If anything, they moved slower. More precise. He was watching your face the entire time - his eyes locked onto every flicker of reaction, every twitch of your mouth or squint of your eyes.
"PLEASE! PLEASE - ANYWHERE ELSE!"
"Well, shit," Bucky snorted. "That worked way too fast."
"What’s the code word?" Loki asked, voice low and flat.
"Fuck YOU-AHH! NO- SHIT!"
His fingers slid to your toes, tracing beneath them with deliberate purpose. You howled with laughter, head flinging back, toes curling as if that could protect you. The nerves in your feet were shot. You couldn’t even pretend composure anymore. He’d hit a level of sensitivity that was obscene.
"Code word," Loki said again, unblinking.
You shook your head, thrashing wildly.
"Don’t know it!" you yelled, tears streaking down your cheeks from the force of it. "I swear - I don’t know it!"
"Oh?" Loki tilted his head. "I think you're lying to me, Agent. Do you know what happens to liars?" His thumbs returned to the spot right beneath your toes and began that horrible circular pressure again.
You screamed - an actual, ragged scream laced with helpless mirth. Your back arched, every muscle straining against the cuffs. Your following laughter was high and unrelenting, like bursting open a dam and letting everything flood out.
"PLEASE!" you cried, playing it up now, blending real helplessness with theatrics. "I don’t know anything! I swear! I’m just a grunt. I’m just a - I’m not fucking built for this!"
The bystanders erupted in laughter.
"Good use of the helpless act," Steve noted, chuckling. "Classic withholding tactic."
Loki paused his movement, fingers still poised. "Code word. Now."
"Lemme go. Please," you begged, shaking your head and bracing as his fingers resumed. Your laughter trembling as your whole body quaked with it. "I don't know what you want!"
Loki’s face didn’t change. Cool, unaffected. His fingers danced under your toes, targeting the very edge of skin at the base where nerves lit up like a live wire.
"You’re lying."
"No I'm not!"
"You are. And I’m going to get the truth out of you."
He found another pocket just under your toes and lingered.
Your laughter cracked apart. Your lungs burned.
"This is going to get much, much worse for you, Agent," Loki's cold voice dropped a weight in your stomach.
"I’ll- I’ll kill you I SWEAR-" you gasped, words broken by high-pitched giggles.
"Threats, now?" Loki's brow lifted. "How quaint."
Bucky whistled low. "You gotta hand it to her. She hasn't cracked."
"I like this training," Thor declared.
Loki ignored the audience, dragging his blunt nails along the length of your arches. Back and forth, up and down. Face calm and unbothered as you went silent, laughter trapped in your upper chest, body tensing and twitching as the energy built and built and... he... he wasn't stopping. Gods, he wasn't moving from that godforsaken spot.
It tickled so fucking much.
There were no words for it. It shouldn't be possible for such a simple action to trap the breath in your chest, to send buzzes of energy through your whole body, it tickled so. fucking. much.
But the worst part? You knew this was building. Priming you for some grande finale. Readying to decimate your willpower.
"Can she breathe?" Steve's voice floated across the edge of your clouded attention.
It must've been almost fifteen seconds since you last made a sound.
Back and forth. Up and down.
Pressure building and building and...
"Hey." Bucky's wary voice was in the mix.
"Wait for it..." Loki hushed them. Your eyes were shut but you could feel his gaze on you.
Back. Forth. Up. Down.
"Loki," Thor's stern voice came. "She's mortal."
"I know, almost there..." Loki cooed.
It was coming. Cucumber. You could feel it coming. Feel the scream coiling in your chest. Almost there...
And then-
The doors hissed open.
"FRIDAY alerted me to a potential HR violation in progress," came Tony’s dry voice as he entered the room
The moment froze like a frame in a cartoon. You, a wreck, cuffed to a tipped chair, flat on your back. Boots off. Loki with stilled hands at your feet. The rest of them standing around like this was some clinical procedure and not your personal nightmare.
Tony looked around. Blinked.
"Well," he said, "this is… deeply unsettling."
The trapped laughter whooshed out of you as air flooded your lungs in deep and gratifying breaths. Loki had paused. Assessing the atmosphere. And for that, you thanked every god in this universe and beyond. You had been so close to surrender.
"She agreed to it," Steve said, unbothered.
"She volunteered," Bucky added, nudging Thor, who nodded solemnly.
"Oh, yes. She may stop the trial at any moment," Thor assured. "She need only speak the sacred word."
Tony blinked again. "And the sacred word is...?"
"Cucumber," they all said in unison.
You wanted to die.
Tony stared at them, then at you - now breathless, sweat-slick, and still twitching from residual sensation. He sighed. "Y'alright, giggles?"
You attempted to speak. But it came out as several coughs, so you just gave a weak thumbs-up.
"Okay, okay," he said, waving a hand. "As much as I’d love to see where this is going - and I mean that purely as an academic curiosity - we cannot shackle an Avenger to a chair and administer tickle torture in our down time. It’s literally in the handbook. Somewhere. It must be."
Loki had the audacity to look disappointed.
But he sighed, then reach down with maddening ease, lifting your chair upright with one smooth motion - like it weighed nothing. You slumped against it, head tilted back still gasping for breath, socked feet twitching, toes curling, body still shaking with aftershocks of laughter, a thin sheen of sweat glowing your skin.
"I hate you," you croaked at Loki.
"How tragically untrue," he chuckled.
Then the cuffs popped open with a click.
You didn’t hesitate.
The second your hands were free, shaky legs be damned, you launched yourself at Steve.
"Rogers!"
He didn’t even flinch. Just accepted his fate.
Your weight hit him square in the chest, and he let himself fall back onto the mat with a loud whump, arms catching you automatically.
"You star-spangled shithead!" you growled, rising to straddle his waist and grab his collar, jolting some sense into him. "You sanctioned that shit!?"
“I did,” Steve said evenly.
"You let Loki-... you- I'm gonna- ugh!" You grabbed a fistful of his hair and mussed it like a feral cat, gritting your teeth and growling.
"Alright, alright!" He laughed, trying to block you. "I deserved that!"
"You’re damn right you do - fucking cucumber - I’m gonna shove one straight down your- hey!"
Bucky's hands wrapped around your waist and casually hauled you off Steve like a disobedient dog. "Alright. Down, girl." You kicked the air on the way up.
"Let me at 'em. I'm not done!"
"Oh, you’re done," Bucky set you on your feet while Steve still lay disheveled on the mat.
"I’m gonna get all of you," you vowed as you straightened your clothes. "You’re all complicit."
Tony raised a finger. "Um, I actually-"
"Obviously not you, Tony!"
"Hey. You could've said the word at any time," Bucky smirked, shrugging, pulling Steve to his feet by the metal hand he offered.
You glared murder at all of them. Until your eyes landed on Loki.
He hadn’t moved.
That’s when you saw it.
The glint behind the calm. A flicker of something low and heated, still burning from the intensity of before.
Your stomach turned when you realised; you never surrendered... so he never won.
He looked at you, head tilted, mouth curved ever-so-slightly at the corner. Not smug. No. This wasn’t arrogance.
It was unfinished business.
You glared, pointing a shaky finger. "There will be retribution."
He inclined his head slightly, eyes never leaving yours. "I’ll be waiting."
You turned slowly to the rest of them, accusing finger sweeping.
"You’re all going down for this."
Bucky raised his hands. "Worth it."
Thor clapped a hand on your back that nearly knocked you over. "You lasted valiantly, dear friend."
You ignored him. "FRIDAY," you barked, steadying yourself. "Mark these bastards for revenge."
"Noted," she replied helpfully.
Tony rubbed his eyes, muttering, "You people have too much time on your hands. I should start charging rent."
But rest of them laughed at your threat. As if they weren't the slightest bit afraid.
warnings | fear of thunderstorms, mild swearing, tickling, hurt/comfort
synopsis | as a thunderstorm rages on, loki comes to help you
this story comes from this prompt that i received almost 4 years ago. it’s good to be back <3
It’s just water.
It’s just a flash.
It’s just noise.
Over and over, you repeat those three phrases. Your therapist said it might help when a storm passes through. Sometimes, the rain is calm and it just takes a few deep breaths for your nervous system to regulate.
It’s just water.
Then, the wind blows and knocks the tree branches against your window. Or in your case since you moved into the tower, it makes the building feel like it’s swaying. Lightning flashes bright, like a flash bang, and blinds you for just a moment.
It’s just a flash.
Seconds later, thunder echoes through your room, shaking the walls. The sound is deafening. It sends a chill down your spine and your heart starts racing. Why is it so loud?
It is just noise.
When you lived back home, you had your mom to help you through a storm. You knew it was silly – an adult woman seeking her mother out during a thunderstorm – but she always provided you with a sense of calmness and it truly helped.
You didn’t really have anyone here.
Well, that’s not entirely true. You had people you could always go to about things. You’d go to Nat when you needed advice on a certain combat move. You could always talk to Bruce about science because it has fascinated you since you were a little kid. You even had conversations with Tony about kids and how being a parent changed him.
But this? You had no one to go to about this. A hardened Shield Agent terrified of thunder and lightning... absolutely embarrassing.
You couldn’t even really pinpoint when the fear manifested itself. You supposed it happened when a tree was struck in your backyard, crashing down on your neighbor’s house. 180 degrees in the opposite direction and it could have been your home.
It might have been when a particular thunderstorm caused a tornado to slice through your town when you were 8, stealing the lives of hundreds. It was hard to determine when this phobia of yours stuck, but it didn’t matter. Even in your late 20’s, rainstorms still felt as though some God out there had his hand around your throat.
Giving up on sleep for the time being, you swung your legs off your bed, wrapped yourself in your comfort fleece blanket and padded your way to the door of your room. It was past midnight, close to the witching hour, so you knew your teammates were most likely fast asleep. Quietly, you opened your door and peeked out into the hallway, noting how quiet it was out there despite the storm raging right outside your window.
You shut your door behind you and made your way to the common room. That room was your favorite place in the entire tower. You liked the gym, the lab, and your own room, of course, but the common room was made of the most memories – the best memories. Thoughts of late-night movies and playing video games pulsed in your head as you sank into the couch, attempting to drown out the storm.
It’s just water.
It’s just a flash.
It’s just noise.
Another loud crack boomed through the building and you fought tears from spilling onto your cheeks. It was times like these when you really missed your mom. You didn’t want to call her, though. She’d already be in bed and honestly, she’d probably chastise you for calling because of this and not because you just wanted to talk to her.
Lightning flashed through the window and you counted to 3, waiting for the boom. Thunder struck and you felt the floor shake beneath you. Then, anxiety took over. What if the thunder was enough to shake the entire tower, sending it crashing to the ground? What if this thunderstorm was how you died? Not a villain, not old age, but a storm that swept you away.
What if, what if, what if?
Those thoughts spun around your mind and the tears you tried so hard to keep at bay raced down your cheeks. A quiet sob racked your chest as you prayed to anyone, whatever God that could hear you, that the storm would pass sooner rather than later.
“Are you alright?”
A deep, timbre voice came from behind you, the English accent giving him away immediately. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks quickly before turning your head to look up at the tall demigod. “Gosh, uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You gave him a small smile.
Loki cocked an eyebrow, clearly noticing that you were, in fact, not alright. He rounded the couch and took the seat at the other end.
“Sorry,” you apologized, “I didn’t think anyone would be up this late.” You pulled your blanket up to your chin, averting your eyes away from him.
You wouldn’t say you and Loki were friends. Acquaintances or co-workers, more like. He accompanied you and the rest of the team on missions, and you passed him in hallways or in the training room. But other than that, you rarely saw or spoke to him. He preferred to subject himself to solitude in his own room.
“I am usually up at this hour. I don’t sleep much,” Loki replied. “I come in here once everyone else has gone to sleep. It’s quiet and tolerable.”
You nodded in understanding. This is your favorite room because it’s where most people spend their time. It’s only Loki’s favorite room when it’s been vacated, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.
Realizing you were interrupting his nightly routine, you cleared your throat and made to stand. “Well, I’m sorry for intruding, then. Have a good night.”
“I don’t mind if you stay, Agent,” Loki said before you could fully stand up from the couch. You were taken aback by the quickness of his response, a slight scrunch of your forehead as you turned to look at him. “I was the one who intruded on you, after all.”
Despite wanting to say something, anything at all, you were shocked into silence. This was probably the most he’d ever spoken to you outside of a mission, and... Gods it was so out of character for the man you’d known for close to a year.
Loki took your silence as rejection, however, and stood just as quick as he sat down. “Actually, I’ll retreat back to my room for the night,” he said, giving you a tight grin. “Good night, Agent.”
The second he turned to walk out, lightning lit up the room, casting shadows on furniture and on Loki himself. Thunder would strike any moment and honestly, you didn’t care how desperate you sounded when you turned and grabbed his wrist before he could exit the room and said, “Stay. Please.”
Crack.
You closed your eyes and tightened your grip for the duration of the noise, removing your hand completely from the God once it was quiet again. “I’m sorry, I –”
“You apologize more often than the average Midgardian,” Loki observed. You knew that to be true. It was one of your bad habits. You would always apologize for things that weren’t even your fault. Loki huffed out a laugh and made his way back to the seat he previously vacated.
“Sor- ah, it’s just a thing I do,” you shrugged, shifting back down to the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin once again.
Raindrops you were sure were the size of golf balls pelted against the window, and you fought not to flinch.
It’s just water.
“Are you sure you’re alright? It seems like something is bothering you.” Loki tilted his head. Not to embarrass yourself further, you nodded and grinned.
“I’m alright. Just can’t sleep.”
“Why ever not?”
Loki’s questions toed the line between just being curious and attempting to pull information out of you. Not that you would particularly mind, but you barely know him. You haven’t even trusted your actual friends with the fact that you’re scared of thunderstorms, let alone the God of Mischief.
Flash.
Your eyes quickly looked toward the window and then back to Loki. “It’s, uh, hard to explain.”
Boom.
Your fingers tightened around the blanket, squeezing as tight as you possibly can without drawing attention to yourself.
“Try me,” Loki said, turning his body more towards you. “I’m a great listener of other people’s issues.”
You laughed quietly, “You learn that from experience?” You found Loki to be a breath of fresh air, honestly. His demeanor made it hard to approach him, so you refrained from talking to him unless it was about something work related. But here he was, sitting with you – next to you, even though there were multiple other chairs in the room – and asking you to confide in him.
It was uncharacteristic for him, but you found that you didn’t mind.
“My dear brother always has something to talk to me about, and while I never really care about any of his issues, I don’t mind listening to yours,” Loki said honestly. “You seem much more fascinating.”
“There is no possible way I am more interesting than your brother. He’s, like, thousands of years old and has an infinite amount of stories to tell,” you chuckled.
“And I’ve heard them all many-a-time. Yours, I have not heard, so...” Loki nodded his head and gestured toward you as if to say, ‘get on with it.’ Your heart wanted to tell him. Your heart essentially was begging you to tell him about your fear of storms just so that the weight of keeping it a secret could be set free. But your head, stronger than your heart, wouldn’t let you.
Your brain was convinced that telling anyone, other than those who already knew, would set you up for a world full of hurt and disappointment. You couldn’t help but think of the inevitable look on Loki’s face when you finally admit it. How embarrassing it must be to fear something so... meek. So, as the thunder crackled outside, you pulled your comfort blanket up even higher and sighed.
“I just have trouble sleeping sometimes. That’s all.”
Loki clearly didn’t like that answer because he shifted his body more towards you and leveled you with an icy stare. Not one of meanness or dislike, but more of knowing you were hiding something from him. “Darling, along with being the God of Mischief, I am also the God of Lies. Do you truly believe that I don’t know you’re keeping information from me?”
The nickname, mixed with his calling out of you, set your cheeks on fire. You cursed your blanket for not being large enough to cover your entire body, including your head. Why did he care? The thought of any answer to that question made your entire body tingle, and you begged the couch to swallow you whole.
Loki, ever perceptive, took notice immediately. “Now, how am I to even see you with this ridiculous blanket covering half of your face?” He asked incredulously, reaching his hand out to grab it. “I’m trying to get to know you.”
As his hand made contact with the blanket, it also made contact with your right foot. His thumb grazed your sole as he tried to take the blanket off of you. Involuntarily, you squeaked and pulled your foot into yourself so quickly that if you were to blink, you could have missed it all together.
You shot your arm out and grasped your blanket, hugging it to yourself like it was your only vice and instinctively covering all of your vulnerable areas. You could not believe the turn of events here. First, the man who lived a few doors down from you, but you still somehow never see wandered into the same room and sat with you. Then, that same man offered to sit there and listen to your anxious feelings. Now, you’re sitting across from that man, who’s known as the God of Mischief, and he’s just found out that you’re ticklish.
What happened in seconds truly felt like hours. Loki’s eyes locked with yours and the smallest smirk appeared on his features. You may not know him well, but you know what that smirk means.
Before you could even make to stand, Loki reached across the sofa and wrapped his hand around your ankle, pulling it toward him and in return, sliding your body down the couch. Your gasp was silenced by the crack of thunder; the kind of thunder you’d usually be afraid of. You couldn’t think of that, now. Now, you were nervously giggling and trying to figure out how in the hell you got yourself into this situation.
“This ought to be an incentive for you to tell me, hm?” Loki pondered as he held onto your ankle with an iron grip, while making sure not to hurt you. He rubbed his thumb against the sole of your foot again and you curled your toes, attempting to wrench your foot from his grip.
“Loki! Wahait!” You whisper-yelled, knowing the entire team was fast asleep just a few meters down the hallway. If Loki started tickling you, it would take everything in you not to laugh and wake everyone in the corridor. “I’m going to wake everyone up!”
“No matter,” he quickly replied, flourishing his hand. You watched in horror, or maybe awe, as the walls of the common room turned a shade of green with a yellow tint to it. “It is completely soundproof. You’re welcome.”
With that, he scratched two fingers right below the ball of your socked foot, sending you straight into hysterics. It has been a very long time since anyone has tickled you. You suspected it was when you were with your ex-lover, which was over a decade ago. Definitely not since you joined SHIELD and the Avengers.
But you knew every single spot that made you want to crawl out of your skin. So did Loki, apparently because he was taking you apart with just a few fingers.
“Now, we can do this your way or my way. Tell me what I want to know.”
You did everything you could to pull your foot from Loki’s grasp, but he held tight, tickling you within an inch of your life. “Nohoho! Dahamn it!”
“No?” Loki repeated, knowing it’s not what you meant to say. He grabbed ahold of your other leg, pulling it out and turning around to place both of your feet into the crook of his elbow. “My way, it is.”
You felt 5 fingers begin scratching all over your feet and you screamed, “OKAHAY! LOKI, WAIT!”
The God halted promptly and turned his head to look back at you with that same adorning smirk on his face. You felt your heartbeat increase as you let out residual laughs and you couldn’t tell if it was from the attack or if it was just because you never noticed how blue Loki’s eyes are. “I’m waiting.”
“You - I just...” You stuttered out, clearly flustered that you were even in this predicament to begin with. How did it go from an awkward encounter to this? The weirdest part of it all was that you didn’t feel uncomfortable. Even though your interactions with Loki before today were slim, it still felt as though he was someone you could tell every secret to and he’d keep it until his dying breath. “This is so unfair, you know!”
Loki nodded and released your feet from his grasp and damn it; you were a little disappointed. You snatched your legs away from him, though, to keep up with the illusion. “And why is that? I merely provided you with an incentive and you chose not to take it.”
“Well, I don’t just tell my secrets to everyone!”
“Ah, so there is a secret you insist on keeping from me. Some people would find that quite rude, you know.” Loki said, then basically pounced on you, pinning you to the couch and kneading his fingers into your sides right above your hips. You let out a giggly scream and shot your hands down to his wrists out of instinct. “I was willing to listen to you if you needed someone to talk to, but I suppose you just need a simple distraction.”
Loki’s fingers squeezed fast as he moved from your sides up to your ribs, making your back completely arch off the couch. “I-hi cahan’t, pleHEASE!”
Your laughter pitched up as he dug into the bones, and your arms slammed down on top of his hands, keeping them pinned. “Oh, dear, this is quite the weak spot you have,” Loki pondered. He wiggled his hands up a bit higher and scratched at your upper ribs where they met your underarm. At that point, you had lost it.
“OKAHAHAY! I’LL TEHELL YOU!” Your laughter went completely silent and you stopped thrashing. Your body went limp and would only twitch if Loki hit a particularly sensitive area. He noticed you were tiring, so he did remove his hands from your torso, watching you with a smile as you came down from your giggle fit.
“Gods, Loki...” You said with a wheeze. “Do you normally go around tickling people you barely know when you don’t get what you want?”
He placed a gentle hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb across your bare skin. Goosebumps rose in his wake and you were thankful you put on shorts to sleep in. His eyes met yours as he said, “Only those who I’ve come to care about.”
You blinked in shock. Loki cared about you? For the year you’d co-habited in the tower, it was clear that you two rarely ever interacted. There were times on a mission or two and during a training session. Maybe even a simple sentence as you passed each other in the hallway. So, when did he take the time to show that he cared. Why did he even care at all?
Your silence prompted him to speak again. “There are few people in this realm that... intrigue me. Since leaving my home and having to stay here, I’ve been distant, angry.” Loki’s eyes never left yours. He made sure he was speaking to you, not around you. He wanted you to understand. “It can be difficult to exist or want to exist when those around you are watching your every move and you’re under scrutiny because of the hardships of your past.”
His admittance encouraged you to reach for the hand that was rubbing your knee, wrapping your fingers around his. “Not me.”
The laugh he made was more of a huff through his nose. Uncharacteristically, without hesitation, he laced his fingers through yours and in an instant, you felt warmer. Not just your hand, but your entire body.
“Not you, no,” Loki repeated. “You watch me for different reasons.”
A soft blush rose to your cheeks, and you finally averted your eyes away from his. Even though communication between the two of you was essentially non-existent, it never stopped you from stealing glances and watching him curiously. You wanted to know more about him. He intrigued you, too.
Still, you berated yourself for not noticing that he was making those same glances over at you. An entire year passed by and you had no idea that he seemingly had feelings for you. It only made you wish you could go back in time and change the way your interactions with him had gone. If you had talked to him more or if you had smiled at him more, maybe things would be different.
“Sorry,” you whispered.
Loki pulled his hands from yours and latched them onto that insanely sensitive muscle right above your knees, squeezing it as you fell back into boisterous laughter. “Again, with the unnecessary apologizing, tsk.”
“WAHAIT! I’m sohorry!” You said in between laughs, cursing when you realized you had said it again. In response, Loki pinched faster and moved his left hand to reach for your belly, vibrating his fingers there. “Noho, okay! I won’t sahay it anymohohore! ProHOMISE!”
He halted tickling you, looking at you with a genuine grin as you caught your breath once more. “This weakness of yours is extremely endearing.”
You playfully glared at him, shifting back to your original position against the arm of the sofa. As the air around you became silent once again, the weight of the conversation you were having settled around you. If Loki could admit that he seemed to have feelings for you, something you’re sure he’s only done a handful of times in his thousand-year life, you could most certainly confide in him and tell him the secret you keep close to your chest.
“The reason I can’t sleep, or I guess the reason I’m even out here at all, is because of the storm,” You mumbled, pulling that fleece blanked back over you as you remembered how terrified you were just 10 minutes before this. “Thunderstorms scare me. They always have and I think they always will.”
Loki had a joke about his brother right on the tip of his tongue, but he refrained from saying it and instead, nodded as his hand found your leg again through the light pink blanket. “I know.”
“You... what?” Raising an eyebrow, you showed confusion on your features. You’d never told anyone about your phobia of storms, only your mom and your friend from back home. How could he have possibly known.
“As I said, you intrigue me,” Loki continued. “I am also very perceptive. I caught on during our second mission together in Budapest during that awful thunderstorm where we had to lie in wait outside.”
You remembered that mission clearly. It nearly caused you to suffer from a panic attack and remove yourself from the team indefinitely. You thought back to the rain mixing in with your silent tears and as you prayed for it to end, it did only seconds later.
“That mission happened almost a year ago,” Your voice quivered through a soft whisper. “Were you the one that made it stop?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have that power, but my brother – he did it without question once I asked.”
Unashamedly, more tears spilled over to race down the apples of your cheeks. It was a silent cry, but one that racked through your body with full force. Loki did that for you. He knew about your fear and he calmed the storm for you. He watched you and he took notice of the one thing that made you feel insignificant and weak, and he unknowingly helped you through it that day.
“Tell me, darling, look outside and tell me what you see.”
You wiped your eyes and did as you were asked, turning your head to look at the window in the common room. Rain continued hitting the glass and then, you saw a bright flash of light.
“A storm,” You replied, a shiver racing down your spine.
“Now, what do you hear?” Loki asked, squeezing your leg fondly to keep from tickling you. You closed your eyes and listened. The rustle of the blanket against the couch as you shifted, Loki’s deep breathing, your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.
Silence.
Opening your glossy eyes, they met Loki’s, the God of Lies, and you’d be damned if they weren’t the most beautiful and honest eyes you’d ever looked into. It dawned on you, then.
He knew about your fear. He heard you slink out of your room and past his own to get to the common room. He came to check on you and when he saw you break from the anxiety of it all, he turned down the noise.
He may not be the God of Thunder, and he may not be able to make it stop, but Loki could do other wonderful things to help you battle this phobia.
“Completely soundproof,” Loki said, repeating his sentence from earlier with a different meaning behind it. “You’re welcome.”
The tiniest smile graced your features as you reached back out to touch his cold, yet silky soft skin. “People are so wrong about you.”
Loki picked up your hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. Tingles spread throughout your body, and a pleasurable feeling settled in your bones. “No, they are right in thinking what they do. I just don’t let anyone see this side of me.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Here I am,” He pondered. He, too, took a second to look out of the window at the rain sliding down the glass. It was a particularly bad storm for New York and how he wished he could possess his brother’s powers even just for a moment. “You need not be afraid to come to me about this, you know. Even if I hadn’t noticed or taken a liking to you, I would have done it for you. No one should have to live in fear every time it rains.”
“Taken a liking to me, huh?” You teased him. He responded with a fluttering of fingers at the foot closest to his free hand. Squeaking, you moved your foot in the same way you had when he first tickled you.
“It’s not wise to antagonize the God of Mischief,” Loki smirked. With a playful roll of your eyes, you sat up to position your body in a way that was a bit closer to him.
“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of chances to figure out exactly what you mean by that.” You leaned your head against his shoulder, still cuddled up in your blanket. “Thank you, Loki.”
He threw his arm around your shoulders, tugging you closer. You could hear his heartbeat through his soft shirt and as the silence lingered on, you were lulled to sleep.
oh hey there hows the family thats good thats good hey listen, this is a fic for the MCU featuring our favorite god of mischief!! for a bit of explanation, you, the reader, are a very very skilled marksman and sniper. Also, here's a five dollar word: seiðr, the type of magic practiced in Norse society and what I'm going to call Loki's magic. i hope you enjoy!!!
this is a fic requested by @burningablaze!! thank you so much for requesting!! <3333
this is for TKTober using the prompt list by @vqler
Your boots pounded against the sleek floors of the Avengers compound, breath coming in ragged gasps as you darted around another corner. Somewhere behind you, Loki's laugh, rich, sharp, and far too entertained, rolled down the hallway like a predator's growl.
"This is beneath me," you muttered under your breath, dodging past a reinforced door that you knew led to the sparring room. Honestly, you were just trying to convince yourself that you hadn't really done something that bad. "God of Mischief, my ass... more like the God of Overreacting."
The truth was, you had gone too far this time. It hadn't been your finest idea to grab a can of bright red spray paint from Tony's workshop and leave taunting graffiti all over Loki's prized cloak while he'd been distracted in the library. "Christmas colors are in fashion on Asgard! Red beats green any day!" You'd even doodled crude stick figures of Thor hammering Loki into the ground.
It was glorious... up until he found it.
Now, with every corner you turned, you swore you could hear his voice slithering through the air.
"Run faster, little mortal. I do enjoy a good chase."
You swore and pushed harder, clutching the last of your throwing knives in one hand. Your usual armament of rifles didn't exactly help at point-blank range, and right now, you'd give just about anything for some more distance between you and Loki Laufeyson.
You slid into the training room, boots skidding on polished flooring. Slamming the door shut, you pressed your back against it, chest heaving. Maybe, just maybe, you'd bought yourself a few seconds.
The overhead lights flickered.
A ripple spread across the room, and your stomach plummeted. Loki's illusions shimmered into existence, four of him at once, each smirking with the same infuriating grin. They fanned out to block the exits, long green coats (still stained with streaks of your red paint, to your satisfaction) swishing dramatically.
"Well, well," one of them drawled. "Cornered already?
"I thought you had more fight left in you."
"You really should've chosen blue. Red is such an obvious cry for attention."
The fourth chimed in, wagging a finger. "And on my cloak? Naughty, naughty..."
You gritted your teeth and hurled the knife at the closest version of him. It sliced through empty air as the illusion dispersed like mist.
"Cheap tricks," you spat, yanking another blade from your belt.
"From me?" His voice slithered behind you, low and amused. "My tricks are just fine."
Before you could spin, icy fingers clamped around your wrist, twisting the knife neatly from your grasp.
You cursed, thrashing, but in a heartbeat, glowing green tendrils of seiðr wrapped around your arms, dragging them above your head and fixing them to thin air as though chained to an invisible post. Your knives clattered uselessly to the floor. Loki stepped smoothly in front of you, emerald eyes glittering, lips curled into a grin that spelled nothing but trouble for you. Poor thing.
His ruined cloak still bore your graffiti, an obscene red smiley face sprayed right over his chest, but somehow, that only made him look more menacing. Your grave error stared you in the face along with its consequences.
"Well, look at you now," he purred, circling. "My little vandal caught red-handed. Quite literally." His gaze flicked down at the paint streaks still dried onto your gloves.
You tried to steady your voice, but panic set in fast. "L-Loki, I-I'm sorry, okay? It was just a joke, really-"
"Oh?" His brows lifted, his words laced with mock surprise. "An apology? That quickly? Well, I haven't even started." He pinched your chin and leaned in close, nose inches from yours, voice dropping to a silken whisper as he glared at you spitefully. "Do you know what victory smells like? It smells like fear."
Your chest tightened as he lifted a hand and flexed his fingers ominously.
"No, wait- hang on, let's just talk about this-!"
The first squeeze landed on your ribs, sharp and sudden. You bucked against the bindings with a yelp that instantly cracked into helpless laughter.
"L-LoHoHohOki, doHohoHOOn't-!!"
He chuckled darkly, dragging his fingers up your sides with excruciating slowness, pausing at every flinch, every squeak. "Mmm. Yes. There it is. A delightful sound. You sound almost cheerful for someone about to be undone."
You twisted, shaking your head, but the seiðr held tight. He slipped his hands under your arms, spidering maddeningly light touches into your underarms until you threw your head back, giggles bursting uncontrollably.
"Oh, that's a lovely reaction," Loki mused. "So sharp here, but softer-" He abruptly squeezed at your waist, and you shrieked. "-ahhh, there it is. Such honesty in the language of laughter."
You kicked wildly, trying to curl forward, but he only pushed your arms higher overhead with another flick of magic, exposing you more.
"P-PLEHEHEHEHehHEASe!" you gasped, tears of laughter already springing to your eyes. "IhIHihIHI sHAahhahaId IhihIHI wHhahahas soHohOhorry!!"
"You think that makes up for what you've done?" His smirk widened as he dove mercilessly back into your ribs, scribbling fast until your body convulsed with laughter. "Oh, my dear Y/N, I will paint my vengeance across your nerves until you beg me for mercy."
Your apologies only spilled faster, tumbling between broken laughter, which seemed to fuel his delight all the more.
"Beg louder," he teased, tone silken as his hands darted for your hips. "You've only just started amusing me."
Your head whipped side to side as Loki's fingers danced wickedly over your torso, tracing every seam in your combat gear.
"Such desperation," he murmured, voice syrupy with mischief. "But which is worse for you, hmm?" His hands slowed, deliberately testing. First, maddening wiggles in your underarms that left you hiccuping with giggles. Then a sudden squeeze at your knee that sent your laughter pitching up into shrieks.
"Aha~!" he crowed, triumphant. "The knee, then. My little hero cannot keep their composure."
You gasped through laughter, trying to twist away. "IHIhiHiHI'm NohOhOt- IhiHihI'm NohohoT liHihIHIttle!!"
"Oh, you are compared to me." His smirk was sharper than knives. He leaned close enough for his breath to brush your ear. "And look at that face. You don't have your mask to hide behind, none of your usual stoic calm. Just flushed cheeks and that delightful smile you try so hard to bury."
You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to conceal your face in your arm, but that only made his chuckle deepen. "Oh no, don't you dare hide from me. I'll pry every expression out of you, every laugh, until you admit just how much I own you in this moment."
Your apologies spilled out between giggles, frantic and breathless, but Loki only seemed to savor them like a horn of Asgardian ale.
"Right. Enough fumbling about," Loki declared, and with a wave of seiðr, glowing green hands bloomed from thin air, shimmering duplicates that clamped around your ankles, pulling you taut. They tickled in tandem with his real ones, scribbling mercilessly on your soles.
You screamed with laughter, thrashing around wildly, but the magic held you suspended like a helpless marionette.
"Magnificent," Loki said, eyes glittering. "Such a mighty hero reduced to nothing but laughter when I so choose. Does it tickle more when I tease..." the conjured hands dragged lazy spirals along your arches, "...or when I torment?" He lunged back into your ribs with both hands, squeezing mercilessly.
You nearly choked on your own giggles, tears streaking your cheeks. "L-LOhOhOhOKI!! IHiHihi cahahAHahnt-!"
"Oh, you can." He tilted his head, grin sharp and gleeful. "You'll laugh until I decide otherwise."
The tempo shifted constantly, slow, feather-light touches that drove you mad with anticipation, then sudden vicious squeezes that left you shrieking. Loki hummed under his breath, as though testing an instrument. "Yes... This spot here sings the sweetest," he muttered, clawing at your sides. "But here-" his fingers pinched lightly at your hips and you let out a squeal so sharp he laughed aloud, "-oh, that's worth repeating~."
"IHIHI'LL NEHEHEVER- NEHEHEVER TOUHUHUCH YOUHUHUR CLOHOHOAK AGAHAHAIN!!" you gasped between peals of laughter. "IHIHI'LL- IHIHI'LL EVEEHEHEN POHOHOLISH YOUHUHUR BOOHOOTS- JUHUHUST STOHOHOP!"
Loki's eyes lit with malicious amusement. "Polish my boots? How quaint. You think your petty chores will buy my mercy?" He leaned in close, brushing a single finger under your chin, making you giggle despite the fleeting touch. "No, no, little mortal. Your laughter is worth far more than any groveling."
He dipped to your ear, whispering so softly it made your stomach flip even as you laughed helplessly. "So fragile for someone who calls themselves a warrior. So very easy to undo." His hands darted back to your underarms, and you broke into unrestrained cackles.
"P-pLEEHehEHASE, IhIhI MEhEHEHAN IhIHIHIT!" you begged. "IHIHI'LL DOOHOHOOO AHAHANYTHIHIHING!!"
"Anything?" Loki echoed, savoring the word. He tickled more slowly now, deliberate and cruel, making you gasp between each laugh. "Then admit to me that you are mine to play with."
Through hiccupy giggles, you choked out, "IhihIHI- IHiHII'M YOUHUHURS!! JUHUHUHUHUST STOHOHOHOHOP-!!!"
"Lovely," he purred, though his fingers never faltered.
At last, after what felt like hours but could only have been minutes, the green bindings dissolved. Your body dropped in a heap onto the floor, limbs trembling, lungs gasping for air. You curled onto your side, giggling uncontrollably as the aftershocks rippled through you.
Loki stood above, utterly composed, not a hair out of place, though the crimson graffiti still marred his cloak in bold streaks. He regarded you with cool satisfaction, like a cat who had toyed with a mouse until it lay too exhausted to flee.
"I-Ihihihihi'll wahahahsh ihihit!!" you blurted through lingering laughter, still sprawled on the floor. "Ihihihi swehehehear, Ihihihi'll wahahash the pahaint out... cleheheaner than befohohore... untihihihil it shihines like it's nehehew... juhust plehehease dohohon't... dohohohon't..." A helpless giggle cut you off, leaving you breathless.
Loki smirked, tilting his head. "That will be good, for a start."
With a theatrical swirl of his ruined cloak, he turned and strode from the room, leaving you sprawled on the training floor, breathless, aching, and very aware of your poor life choices.
A few minutes later, the door hissed open again, and you turned your head to see Sam and Bucky walking in with their duffel bags of equipment. They took one look at you and chuckled.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Training's like that some days."
Bucky grinned, bending down to ruffle your hair. "It gets easier with time."
"Wh-" You furrowed your brows, then understood. They thought you were totally wiped from a workout. Yes. Okay. Alright, you could work with this. "Y-yeah, those uhm... those lunges were killer."
The two men ahh-ed with understanding.
"You should have stretched first," Sam told you.
"-should have stretched first," Bucky said, a few seconds behind. He pursed his lips and gently hit Sam in the shoulder for saying it first.
"Y-yeheah, I'll do better next time..." you whined softly, although your meaning was different from what they thought. One thing's for sure, you weren't gonna pull a stunt like that on Loki again...
...At least, not in the near future. A month from now, all bets are off. Maybe he'll be a better sport next time.
Oh my favourite lee?? Ohhh.. it’s probably spidey.. or Loki
I need for content with ler!villians, especially spiderman’s, and with their dynamics during and after nwh???! CMON GUYS THE CONTENT RIGHTS ITSELF!! Ler!docOck is my favourite though.. i mean.. i would love him to tickle me
Disclaimer: This is a tickle fic! Scroll if you do not like!
Summary: Tony Stark finds out something silly about his intern and messes around with Peter, much to Peter’s fluster.
lee!Peter Parker // ler!Tony Stark
___
Peter Parker was quite the peculiar individual for Tony. For one, the guy was Spider-man. The friendly neighborhood spidey who helped old ladies cross the street, played soccer with the local kids, and just so happened to be able to go toe-to-toe with a super soldier, and hold his own and even help against avenger level threats as he would get to know.
Yet, also still admiring the avengers like any other fanboy, was awkward, and stumbled on his words around people he liked. It was kinda funny to see the same guy who treated life-or-death and people with guns like a grumpy neighbor get all flustered whenever someone like Captain America wanted to talk to him.
It wasn’t just Peter’s attitude and his work as Spider-man that interested Tony though. It was also his work as Peter as well. He had already figured the kid was smart in STEM from the web formula he used, however, he didn’t expect to find himself genuinely intrigued by Peter’s other projects as he would soon discover.
It was quite interesting to look into some of the kid’s works. He could really tell why the kid was in a STEM school like Midtown. Although he didn’t really plan on developing any relationship to Peter further then just as Iron man and Spider-man, he could really use somewhat of an intern in the labs. Who knows? Maybe it’d be a nice change of pace.
#
From the get-go, Peter was anxious. It had been about two weeks since Tony decided to actually go through with the whole internship thing. The kid came every day after school for about two hours. Unlike what Tony had for some reason expected, it was radio silence from the kid. The only interaction between them would be whenever Tony would ask for a part or came about to check up on whatever the kid was doing.
Usually, the kid was doing something real sweet. Like making an entirely new element for the periodic table and somehow making use out of it. Tony could also tell the kid was working on a personal project using what Tony had to offer, however, the kid was definitely hiding it from him. Which concerned Tony.
Today was no different from usual. Peter was across from him, still messing with the new element. AC/DC blasted as the two of them worked on their own things. Even though it was peaceful between them, it was easy to tell that Peter was definitely anxious. Tony had been meaning to try and dissolve that anxiety from Peter, but he didn’t really know how.
Peter was shaking his leg as his hand rested on his forehead. There was a conflicted expression on his face as the blue light emitting from the element shone on his face. Tony could tell the kid was frustrated. He checked his watch. Shouldn’t be too bad of a time to come around.
Tony stood up from his chair, walking around to where Peter was. He was feeling kinda awkward himself, he had no idea how to really talk to teenagers except for sarcasm anyways. Peter, somehow, didn’t notice him from behind. Tony looked at the element. It looked a bit deformed from last time. There was a plastic cover over it now as it flaked and spurted, splaying itself all over the cover.
“Whatcha got there kid?” Tony tried to soften his voice a bit, trying not to scare Peter. He did anyways. Peter jumped up in surprise, the spinning chair wheeling against the tiled floor.
“Ah-shit—oh, Mr. Stark, hi.” Peter breathed a sigh of relief before straightening, coughing to try and cover up his embarrassment at being caught off guard.
“Hey kid.” Tony couldn’t really help the flat undertone of his voice that just edged for a little bit something more from whoever he was talking to. He usually really liked talking the way he did because of it, but right now he just cringed at it. He liked the kid. He didn’t want to scare him off like this.
“What you have here this time around kiddo? I assume it’s not exactly swell from the looks of it. Got a lil someone over here I see.” He tried to flatten his tone a bit, tapping the plastic covering that was currently splattered from the inside in whatever the element was spewing. Peter grimaced, pursing his lips.
“Err, yea.” Peter replied awkwardly. His shoulders were tense as he tapped his foot against the floor with that same, quick, thumping as he had been for the last 10 minutes. He was clearly not having fun with whatever he has been doing right now from the mindless way he was staring at the glowing splattered on the plastic. You couldn’t even see the actual block of the element. Tony suddenly felt awkward.
“Just something that uh, keeps ruining my tests on it like it hates me or something. Don’t worry, it’s all dandy.” Peter leaned forward from his chair, experimentally lifting the plastic cover as he braced for something. He scrunched his nose when steam arose from under the plastic before he cupped it back in again.
“Hopefully that isn’t some deadly gas you just accidentally concocted.” Tony quipped mindlessly. Peter pursed his lips again, his eyebrows tensing by a miniscule amount.
“Yea.” He just responded again.
“Hey how about we uhh, get you working on something Spidey related? Elements are a hard fix anyways. Have I ever told you about my experiments with Badassium?” Peter’s interest seemed to peak. He raised his eyebrow slightly, eyes following Tony as Tony went to the back of the lab to dig out some gear; probably spider gear.
“No, you haven’t.”
“Right, well,” Tony went on to talk about his experience with Badassium. Peter seemed quite intrigued by the stories, nodding along as he watched Tony drag out blueprints, notebooks, and a whole lot of mechanical parts and spandex as well.
“And the worst part about that was when it blew up on me and broke poor Brucie-bear who just happened to be there’s favorite mug. I think it was the green in his eye that scared me though, apparently he was already having a screw-over’ed day.” Tony pulled out two web shooters. They were designed a bit differently from Peter’s usual web shooters. They were smaller with only the trigger, the small pipe to shoot it out, and the cartridges.
“Try this on, figured it’d be inconvenient if Y’know; crushed up your web shooters like a lollipop.”
“Mr. Stark, who bites lollipops?”
“Last time I checked just about everyone, kid are you sure you’re the only one not biting lollipops kid?” Tony found himself smiling as he looked back at the kid. Peter seemed less tense compared to two hours ago. He was currently trying to put on the web shooters, eyebrows creasing when he couldn’t.
“Need help with that kiddo?” Peter nodded. Extending his wrist out. Tony grabbed the webshooter, taking it and wrapping it around Peter’s wrist. His fingers grazed them. Peter suddenly sputtered. He tensed, flinching away as the web shooter dropped to the ground.
Confusion washed over Tony as he flinched back from Peter. He blinked. Did he alarm him or anything? Peter looked up before looking away. Suddenly shying away again. Did he accidentally trigger a deep-set problem in the kid?
“You alright kid?” Tony asked tentatively. Not wanting to scare the kid.—gosh Pepper would be telling him to stop treating the kid like a scared animal. How were you supposed to talk to kids again? But Peter’s not a kid, he’s a teenager, is he just nervous or did he do something wrong?
“Yea, it’s nothing.” Peter shook his head, keeping his gaze low before extending his hand again. This time a bit more hesitantly. Tony raised an eyebrow. He looked back to Peter’s hand, trying to gauge his memory for when exactly Peter flinched away, trying to pinpoint a reason why. He looked at Peter’s face, before looking back at his wrist. He decided to test the waters. After all, he never liked guessing.
“Ok then, why does this bother you?” He took a light grasp on Peter’s hand, light enough to let Peter pull away if he wanted to. He dragged his finger lightly up and down Peter’s wrist. Peter squawked before he reflexively pulled away.
“I-Uh-I-it’s just—“
“Is it something to do with your Spidey DNA or something? Talk to me kid,”
“No-I mean—yea, it is but-“
“So something with the spider? Come on kiddo, I’m curious unless you don’t wanna talk about it of course.”
“No it’s fine— it’s just uh, embarrassing.” Peter kept flickering his gaze between the floor and Tony.
“Cause like, y’know how uhh, the spider dna gave me spider-like thingys? Like how I can climb walls, I can’t thermoregulate, and-“
“Wait, you can’t thermoregulate?” Tony cut in. Peter just sorta shrugged, still eyeing him with a flustered expression.
“I can’t, yea but anyways—I’m pretty sure it gave me half-developed spinnerets because there’s been like these kinda bumps in both my wrists and they’re really sensitive. It’s bad, so-I just uh, reacted since you brushed them.” Peter looked down again. Tony blinked at the new information. Half-developed spinnerets? That was a new development. The thermoregulation too but that wasn’t the main focus right now.
“Sensitive as in pain-sensitive orrr?”
“Well touching the bumps itself is pain-sensitive, it’s just the surrounding area is.. ticklish.” Now that was definitely new. Who knew Spider-man was embarrassed by being ticklish? It was a funny idea, yet also kinda cute when you take into account Peter’s attitude around him. It made Tony want to be more playful. He grinned a bit.
“Soo, you’re saying that this tickles?” Tony took Peter’s hand again, this time he held it tighter. He dragged his finger lightly across Peter’s wrist again, this time tracing shapes and lines on them. Peter sputtered, his other hand coming up to cover his face as he reflexively tried to pull away again. He looked away to the side, shoulders shaking slightly.
Tony grinned watching Peter’s reaction. The kid was just being adorable right now.
“Come on kiddo, does it tickle? Yes or no.” Tony dragged his finger in a circle around the two bumps on Peter’s wrist, watching as Peter’s fingers curled in, another quiet muffled laugh leaving Peter’s mouth.
“Yehehes it doeses,” Peter giggled, covering his mouth. His shoulders still shaking lightly. Tony had to resist laughing a little himself.
“Are you also saying this tickles?” Tony rolled Peter’s sleeve up, now dragging his fingers lightly across his forearm. Peter squealed before dissolving into breathy, quiet laughs. Trying his best now to muffle them. He sunk in his chair.
“Come on gigglebug, does it tickle?” He dragged his fingers back down to the spinnerets, circling around them slowly again making Peter’s laughter pitch a bit higher again. Peter nodded frantically, trying to hide his face.
“Use your words Pete, does it tickle?” Tony teased him more, basically asking for Peter to break out into laughter at this point.
“Yeshehses!” The word came a bit louder than Peter wanted, trying to pull back even more. Tony hummed, slowly walking his fingers up Peter’s arm. Peter peeked out from covering his face, to be attacked with wiggly fingers against his neck. He squawked, trying to curl up on himself as he scrunched his shoulders. Fuzzy, tingly bolts shooting up his neck to his brain, making him feel all meltly.
“Mr. Stahark!” He whined, trying to cover his face while also pulling lightly at Tony’s hand. He peeked again just to see Tony’s mischievous grin. Only serving to fluster him more.
“Come on Spidey, are you also saying the Spider-man is ticklish? Because that’s probably the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard of all week.” Peter squealed, almost jumping out of his seat as a hand latched onto his ride side. Squeezing and wiggling. He broke out into louder, breathier, laughs as he started to squirm in the spinning chair.
Tony’s fingers trailed up Peter’s neck, scribbling lightly over the sweet spot just to the side below of Peter’s ear. Peter broke out in hysterical giggles, wrenching away from Tony just for fingers to follow. His cheeks turned pink from the embarrassment and laughter. Who knew he was going to end up being possibly tickled to death by Tony Stark himself?
“Is this a giggle spot Pete?” He squeezed just under Peter’s lowest rib, laughing himself when Peter flopped out like a fish out of water, now laying sideways on his right side in the chair as he squirmed around.
“Thishis is evhehvevil! Youhuhur’e ehehevil!” Peter giggled as his laughter started to get louder and more uncontrollable.
“Yea I can’t take you seriously when you’re laughing so much, smiley.” Tony suddenly attacked Peter’s exposed left side with both hands, squeezing his side as he massaged his fingers torturously into his ribs. Peter barked out laughing as he started to squirm with more vigor.
“eHEK! Mrhrhr. StarahHArk!” Peter squeaked as Tony started to crawl his fingers, skittering all over his ribs, sides, and stomach now. Rubbing his thumbs along the side of Peter’s stomach in a way that made his giggles sound more panicky.
“Yes Peter? Do you need more tickles or something? I can do that.” He climbed his fingers up Peter’s ribcage before pinpointing a sweet spot just between the last and second to last rib. Peter’s laughing became louder. Tony snickered himself as he honed into that spot.
“THahHaHat’S SoHOo BaHAhaHad!” The spinning chair swerved hard as Peter kicked out. Tony planted the chair in place with his foot, dragging it closer to him before rubbing deep circles into that spot watching as Peter snorted.
“Pfpt- was that a snort?” Tony laughed now, amused as he massaged deeper into the spot watching as Peter’s cheeks got red.
“My, my Pete I didn’t know you were this ticklish. This is just adorable, you know that right?”
“SHuhHUT UhuUhP!” Peter bit back at the teasing, still giggling and laughing loudly and kiddishly as he squirmed with all his might. Tony whistled at the attitude.
“Not a great thing to say at the moment there Spidey,” Tony skittered his fingers higher up his ribcage, taking notice of how Peter’s pitch got higher the higher he went up.
“Dohohon’t!” Peter looked at him, wide eyed with mirth. He wore a grin on his face that Tony hadn’t seen since he first recruited the kid. He grinned back devilishly.
“Yessss,” he took hold of Peter’s wrist, holding it above his head as he scribbled at Peter’s underarm. Peter broke out into a loud laughter as he weakly tugged at Tony’s hand with his other, unrestrained hand.
Tony didn’t even try to suppress snicker at how ridiculously ticklish this kid was.
“Does it tickle, kid? You’re practically shaking with laughter, I don’t get the big deal.” Tony didn’t even hide his grin as Peter tried to glare at him. Yet it wasn’t very threatening with the wide grin on Peter’s face. Peter opened his mouth to say something just to squeeze his eyes shut with another bout of laughter.
“Sooo would this also tickle?” He let go of Peter’s wrist, going to repeatedly squeeze Peter’s side. He watched as Peter squirmed more with laughter. The kid’s laughter being music to his ears.
“MihsihsitEr!.” Peter tried to talk through the laughter, failing as he did. He curled up on himself, trying to make a ball as his laughter went silent.
Tony snickered, this time more slowly as he figured the kid was just about done. He slowed down, ruffling Peter’s hair.
“Looks like you’re beat kiddo,” He commented. Peter just giggled some more.
“Just got one more thing for you…” Peter suddenly looked panicked as he started to try and scoot back in the chair, trying to escape now before Tony grabbed hold of him, wrestling the vigilante down.
“Nononononono!”
“Ever heard of this berry? I think you’d like it since it’s red and all and you’re red too. As in Spider-man and right now. No? Alright,” He blew a raspberry into Peter’s neck. He spasmed before trying to curl up again as his giggles went hysterical again. White light exploded behind his eyes.
It felt like 30 minutes before Tony finally let up, blowing 2 more quicker raspberries before letting Peter go.
Peter laid limp, curled up in a fetal position in the chair as he tried to catch his breath. Tony watched as Peter’s back raised and fell with breath. He had to suppress another small laugh at the kid. He never thought but he was feeling quite affectionate right now.
“Tony?” Both Peter and Tony’s gaze snapped to the familiar voice. Steve stood in the doorway as the door opened. Steve looked up from what he was holding, blinking at the curled up teen and Tony.
“What happened here?” He asked. Tony just grinned as Peter bolted, scrambling off the chair and hiding behind Steve.
“He’s evil!” Peter accused, pointing at Tony as Steve blinked again at Peter’s newfound attitude. Usually, he was too shy to talk to him.
“Just some good ol’ fun.” Tony said, eyes twinkling with mischief. Steve just raised an eyebrow.
