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.
This fic can be read as a standalone, or as a part 2 to Fearless
synopsis: You notice Bucky pulling away from everyone. Steve says the best way to help is be yourself - to not treat him any differently. But now, thanks to Loki, teasing Bucky might come with some consequences.
pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (flirtatious), Loki x reader (platonic)
cw: swearing, ruthless tickling of the reader, mentions of trauma, inappropriate jokes
word count: ~5700
minors dni: this fic does not contain smut, but contains a suggestive storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.
note: I've had quite a few of you in my inbox and replies kindly asking for a sequel to Fearless, and it's been on the prompt list for a very long while. This is both a sequel and a standalone; you don't need to read Fearless to read this, but the story might make more sense if you do. I wrote Fearless several years ago, so please forgive me if this feels like a big departure from the initial tone. I hope you enjoy it all the same.
special thank you to sunflower anon for the plot idea 🌻
Bucky hasn't come to group training in three weeks.
He's quieter than usual, which is really saying something. You’ve seen it before, in the eyes of others who’ve been through the wringer; that distant stare, the haunted look that never quite leaves. You know it well enough to recognise it on him.
But the thing with Bucky is that he doesn’t want help. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to be seen as a victim or a burden.
So, you're standing there, fists clenched around the worn-out edge of your training gloves, eyes locked on Steve, the only one who might have any insight. You're working through your own sparring drills, but your thoughts keep flickering back to Bucky. His absence from this moment. You can’t get him out of your head.
Steve is sweat-slicked and a little breathless, but still as composed as ever. You throw a quick jab. He easily dodges.
"Hey," you say, standing down, shoulders dropping. "What’s going on with Bucky? Why isn't he here?"
He drops his guard. "He’s been through a lot," Steve says, like that wasn’t the understatement of the century.
You roll your eyes, shaking your head, but Steve keeps going, voice quieter, more measured. "He’s... isolating."
"Yeah, I’ve noticed." You pick at the tape around your hands and then pull your firsts back to fighting stance. Steve is ready for you. You throw a hard punch at him this time, the impact sharp against his arm, but your mind is elsewhere. "Is there anything I can do?"
Steve steps back, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, and looks at you like he's searching for something. You don’t know what, but you can feel the weight of it, the way his gaze lingers. "Just… be yourself. Just show up, treat him like you normally would." He tilts his head to the side, a wry smile pulling into his cheek. "Push his buttons. Y'know, like you usually do."
You let out a humourless laugh, wiping some sweat off your forehead. "I didn't want to push him. Antagonising a super soldier doesn’t seem like the best way to go about it."
He cracks a grin, one of those rare smiles you’ve seen from him, and his eyes soften. "That’s the point. He’s tired of being that guy. The super soldier. He needs to feel normal again. Don't pull back - you won't push him away. He’ll come around."
You stare at him for a second, trying to decide if he’s being serious. He’s got that look in his eyes, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s talking about. But you’re still skeptical.
"If you say so," you mutter, tying your gloves tight.
Steve chuckles, patting you on the shoulder. "Good. Now run drill twenty-two."
.
.
The next morning, you walk into the kitchen expecting the usual chaos of breakfast prep and clinking plates. But it's quiet today. Too quiet. You see Steve and Bucky sitting at the table. Steve’s holding a mug of coffee, but Bucky… Bucky’s got a book in his hands. It’s a small thing, but the fact that he’s holding it, actually reading, is a rare moment of peace.
You pause, leaning against the doorframe, studying them for a second. It’s not often you get to see the two of them like this. Calm, together, in a room bathed in morning light.
Bucky’s got that unreadable expression. He’s focused on his book, but you can tell it’s more out of habit than actual engagement. His eyes keep flickering to the edges of the pages. His mind is elsewhere.
And then, an idea comes to you.
You walk in like you own the place - a quiet confidence that comes from knowing exactly how to mess with someone. You grab the coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup, but you don’t take your eyes off Bucky.
"Hey, Bucky," you call out, cocking an eyebrow, "you want some more coffee with your smut?"
Bucky’s brow furrows, and he looks up from his book, confused. "Smut?" he asks, the word foreign on his tongue. Steve glances up, and they both just look at you, genuinely clueless.
You take a casual sip of your coffee, leaning against the counter like you’ve got all the time in the world. "You know, smut," you say with a smirk. "Spice."
He blinks. "Spice?" He looks back at his book, flipping the page like he’s searching for something.
You chuckle. "Yeah, sex scenes. In books. The dirty stuff."
Bucky’s face flushes a deep red, his eyes darting back to the pages, and his lips start to part as if he’s about to protest.
"No need to lie," you say, giving him a mock look of doubt. "I’ve read it. No judgment."
Bucky’s face looks like he might combust. "There’s nothing like that in here," he says quickly, eyes shifting between you and Steve like he’s about to combust, but Steve’s choking on his coffee, trying not to laugh.
You bite the inside of lip, trying to hide your grin. "Are you sure? Because I swear I saw you flick to the page where it gets real spicy."
He looks between you and Steve, horror creeping into his features. "You’re… you’re joking," he says, half in disbelief.
You smirk, lifting your coffee to your lips. "It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Buck. It's popular. Hell, you’re probably the only one who’s hiding it."
Steve’s snorting into his coffee, clearly enjoying this, and Bucky’s still looking between the two of you like he’s caught in some bizarre fever dream.
You take another sip of your coffee, pretending to be nonchalant, even though you’re holding back a laugh. "Not gonna lie, I’ve read far worse than what's in that book you're holding."
His face flushes deeper, and his gaze snaps between you and Steve, who’s barely holding in a snicker behind his coffee mug. There’s a moment where Bucky just doesn’t know what to say, his lips parting like he’s about to spill something out, but the words don’t come.
And then, like a switch, the realisation hits him.
You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches in that small, tight smile you’ve seen before, the one that doesn’t come around often. But this time, there’s something more in it. A shift. You’ve broken through just a little, and now the teasing, the banter - it feels different. The air between you is charged, in a way you can’t quite put into words. It’s the first time in weeks you’ve seen any kind of genuine expression on Bucky’s face.
"You’re messing with me," he says, voice dropping to something lower, darker. The challenge in his tone makes your heart race just a little faster.
You lean back against the counter, your coffee cup held loosely in one hand, your expression deliberately neutral. "I’d never mess with you, Bucky," you say, a sly grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I’m smarter than that. Just trying to start a book club."
He doesn’t respond right away, just watches you with those penetrating steel-blue eyes, and you feel something twist in your chest. He points a finger at you, glaring with a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Tell Steve you’re joking."
There’s a tension in the air now, something that wasn’t there before. Something unspoken. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in a long while, you’re really looking at him.
Steve’s chuckle breaks the moment, and you glance at him, a little relieved for the distraction. But Bucky doesn’t look away. His gaze doesn’t soften, but it’s sharper now - focused, intent. There’s an edge to his stare that makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t decide whether it’s because of the game you’re playing or something else entirely.
"You’re ridiculous," he mutters, his voice warmer than before, though still carrying that familiar edge.
Your breath hitches for a moment, and you can’t tell if it’s the sudden softness of his voice or the way his proximity makes everything seem a little bit… closer than it should be. But you stand your ground, meeting his eyes head-on.
But then, Steve clears his throat loudly, and just like that, the moment snaps back into place. The tension fades, but it doesn’t disappear. Not entirely.
Bucky looks at Steve, then back to you, and finally sighs in defeat. You smile to yourself, trying to hold in the satisfaction as Bucky gives you a glare with an undeniably playful edge. "I’ll let you off the hook. For now."
But as Bucky grabs his book again, his fingers brushing over the pages, you can feel it - the warmth that's simmering. It’s fragile, but it’s real. And for the first time in days, Bucky looks like he’s in the moment, not lost in the past.
He's here.
.
.
You’re mid-sentence, arguing that the protagonist’s internal conflict didn’t pay off, when the quiet creak of the library door pulls both your and Loki’s attention.
Bucky steps inside, the dim lamp light cutting across his face. His jaw’s tight, but his eyes gleam with something unreadable. He’s got the book in hand - the book - and you already know what he’s going to say before the words even leave his mouth.
He lifts the novel slightly, dark gaze flicking from Loki to you. "No smoot."
Your mouth twitches. "You mean smut, Buck."
Loki, of course, is the first to speak. He closes his own book with deliberate flair, settling into the leather wingback like a king on a throne. “What's this?”
Bucky's eyes don't leave you. "Not a single sex scene in here. Not even a kiss."
You exhale slowly, fighting to keep your expression neutral. "Must’ve been reading the wrong edition," you murmur, reaching for your tea.
Loki gives you a look that could be called gleeful if it weren’t laced with such dry malice. "Please, darling," he drawls. "If you’re going to gaslight the poor man, at least try to make it subtle."
Bucky watches you, head tilted slightly, his brow raised in amusement. "So you were joking," he says slowly. "Trying to get a rise outta me."
You lift your brows. "Trying?"
You don’t mean to sound breathless, but you kind of are. Because Bucky isn’t just amused - he’s focused. The kind of focus he gets when he’s squaring up with someone. His weight shifted just forward enough, like he’s waiting for something.
Loki, however, is thriving on the mischief. He conjures another book from thin air, holding it aloft between his fingertips, the cover glinting with gold leaf and something entirely indecent on the front.
"If you're is truly disappointed by the lack of literary debauchery," Loki says to Bucky, tone smooth and unbothered, "you might prefer this. Popular on Midgard, I hear. Something about dukes and corsets."
You cough into your tea, trying to keep it together. "Shit. Not sure I'd take Loki's suggestion for this stuff, Buck."
Loki's glare swings to you. "And why not?"
Bucky huffs a laugh, but it’s short-lived. His attention’s on you, too, gaze narrowing. "You should be careful who you're messing with."
Before you can respond, Loki cuts in, his voice sly and dangerous with the air of someone about to set the room on fire.
"If you’re struggling with her mouth, Barnes..."
You snap your head toward him. "Don’t."
Loki’s smile turns slow and wicked. "Oh? He doesn't know?"
"Know what?" Bucky asks, now looking to Loki.
"Loki," you growl, the warning sharp now.
But he ignores it entirely, already too far gone. He gestures lazily toward you, his tone almost sing-song. "She’s incredibly ticklish, Barnes. Mouthy little thing until you find the right spot. Then it’s all helpless laughter and desperate apologies."
Your heart lurches. "Loki-"
But the trickster’s already leaned back, positively smug. "Writhing, squealing," he continues, voice full of mock nostalgia. "It's delightful, really. Highly effective. I suggest you try it."
Bucky’s attention snaps to you. Sharp. Curious. Dangerous.
And then he moves.
Not fast - not overt. But his steps are steady, and your breath hitches the second he crosses into your space. You sink deeper into your armchair, instinct or gravity, you can't say which.
Bucky follows, slow and calculated, until he’s bracing one hand against the back of your chair, the other resting casually on the armrest, caging you in with practiced ease.
His head dips just slightly as he leans over you.
Your spine locks up. Your pulse is a drum.
You force yourself to tilt your chin up, meet his gaze. But it’s not easy - not with the way he’s looking at you, not entirely amused anymore. This is something else - playful, yes, but edged with something sharp. Something primal.
You don’t dare move.
His voice is low when it hits you. "You ticklish, sweetheart?"
Your skin lights up like static.
You don’t flinch. You can’t. He’s too close. Close enough to see the tendons in his neck, the glint of his dog tags, and the faint smirk pulling at his stubbled mouth.
You swallow, hard. "Bucky, I-"
"One more word about smut," he murmurs, "and I’ll make you regret it."
Your lips twitch.
Because this - this - is good. Bucky, letting loose. Teasing. You could almost cry from the relief of seeing him like this. Not haunted. Not withdrawn. Just a guy giving you hell.
"Understood?" he adds, voice low and rough.
You nod, trying to keep your grin in check. "Cross my heart."
He studies you a second longer. And then, without another word, he straightens and walks away - calm, controlled, leaving the scent of coffee and leather and adrenaline in his wake.
You exhale once he’s gone, sagging into the chair like your bones gave out.
And then, of course, Loki.
The bastard crosses one leg over the other, examining you with a look that says he’s just found his favourite soap opera and you’re the main character.
"Well," he says, smiling like a serpent. "That was electric."
"Don’t," you say quickly, pointing at him.
He raises a brow. "I’m merely observing. Stark’s infrared sensors probably picked up the heat signature."
"You’re such a dick," you mutter, crossing your arms tightly across your chest as you glare at him. You can't keep the edge from your voice. "Seriously, telling Bucky to tickle me? What the hell?"
Loki’s eyes flick up from the book in his hands, his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back an insufferable grin. He doesn’t even flinch under your stare, too amused by your annoyance. Of course he is.
"Oh no," he says with exaggerated sympathy, looking up just enough to give you that devilish grin of his. "The handsome super soldier might pin you down and place his hands all over you. How ever will you survive?"
You glare harder and pick up your tea. "Whatever. You're still wrong about Hotchins in the third act."
Loki takes the cue and picks up your argument from where it left off as you try, and fail, to suppress the flutter of heat low in your belly.
.
.
It's the very next morning that you walk into the living room with the sort of easy confidence that comes from a good night’s sleep, a hot shower, and no immediate need to duck for cover... and you walk straight into a trap.
Steve and Banner are seated across opposite couches, coffee mugs in hand, data pads in the other, discussing something in quiet tones. Loki lounges like a bored cat - how he manages to drape himself across furniture like it was carved for him, you’ll never know. And Bucky...
Bucky’s seated on the end of another couch, boots planted on the ground, body relaxed but alert in that way of his. His eyes are lowered, reading. The book’s balanced in one hand, and the moment you see the cover, your steps slow.
Because you’ve read that one.
And that one is definitely not PG.
A laugh huffs out of you before you can stop it. "Oh my god. That book?"
Bucky doesn’t look up. But he goes very, very still.
You continue across the room, grin widening, genuinely excited. "How far are you? Wait - don’t answer that. Let me guess. Chapter fourteen?"
Steve chuckles into his mug, glancing over. "We know you were just messing with him the first time."
"I was, the other day," you say, hands up. "That book was clean. But this one..." You giggle, but you're actually kind of excited to discuss it with him- uh, the plot, that is.
But Bucky closes it slowly and tosses it down onto the table like it just insulted him.
He stands.
And something shifts.
It’s subtle. Just the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips slightly to the side. But your stomach drops all the same.
Because you remember. His voice in your ear.
"One more word about smut, and I’ll make you regret it."
You laugh - nervously, this time. Hands up. "Hey now, hold on. This isn’t a repeat offence. I'm genuinely curious."
"Sure," Banner chuckles from the couch, not looking up from his data pad. "Totally sounds like curiosity. Not at all like a joke at his expense."
"Okay, wow, betrayal from all sides," you mutter, taking a small step back as Bucky starts toward you. "I’m just saying, I didn’t expect you to be reading that book of all books, I-"
He says nothing. Just takes another step.
Measured. Intentional.
You keep backing up. "Seriously, Bucky, I’m innocent this time. Genuinely. I wasn’t teasing you, I swear. I was-"
"Don’t run. Don't make me chase you," he says, voice low. "Just come here and take it."
Your heart spikes so hard it echoes in your ears. "Okay, see - that right there? That’s terrifying."
He takes another step. You bolt.
You turn, trying to whip around the couch-
-and slam full-speed into Loki’s chest.
Your breath leaves your lungs in a hard puff, and before you can untangle yourself, his fingers coil around your wrists. He ensnares you with far too much grace, and far too little resistance.
Then you glance over Loki’s shoulder. See the version of him still seated casually, still sipping tea.
Until it shimmers, and vanishes.
"Oh you son of a-" you gasp, already squirming. "You set me up - this was a trap!"
Loki chuckles, low and serpentine, in a voice only you can hear. "Who, me? Would I truly give Barnes a book I knew would provoke some commentary from you?"
Your stomach drops, you look up at him, breathless and flushed. "No..."
You tug at your arms, but Loki just tuts and holds you in place.
"C’mon," you try, turning to Bucky. "Truce. I didn’t mean anything this time. Just honest commentary."
Bucky smirks as he reaches you, the look in his eye somewhere between wicked and indulgent. "You always talk this much when you’re nervous?"
"I’m not nervous," you lie. "I’m smart. There’s a difference."
The two of them exchange a look, one that sends heat down your spine and makes your hands twitch in Loki’s grip.
"Let’s get her seated," Loki says lightly, dragging you toward an empty couch. "I’d hate for her knees to give out from anticipation."
"Oh fuck," you groan.
They ease you down - not rough, but not exactly gentle either. Before you can sit properly, Bucky swings a leg over your hips and settles, his weight pinning you in place.
"Steve? Bruce!?" You wriggle against your captors to no avail, shooting a desperate look to the bystanders. But they merely toast their mugs, a sign you're on your own. Your heart stutters as you turn back to Bucky and Loki.
You buck a little, instinctive panic fluttering in your stomach. "Guys- wait. Hang on-"
"Reasoning window closed," Bucky says calmly, adjusting his position. "You were warned."
Loki chuckles and pins your wrists above your head. "I believe Barnes has earned this one."
Bucky looks down at you, one eyebrow raised, the picture of mock deliberation. “Well? Where should I start, Loki?”
"Bucky, please-"
Loki smiles. "I’d hate to deny you the delight of discovery."
And then-
Bucky presses his fingers to your stomach.
You jerk violently and screech, the sound raw and high-pitched before devolving into a helpless laugh that rips from your chest like it’s been waiting days to break free.
"Fuck! No- Bucky!"
"Wow. You are so ticklish," he says, incredulous, like he’s just uncovered a national secret. He presses again, harder, and you twist, laughing uncontrollably as he digs into your sides.
Your muscles spasm. Your feet kick the cushions. Loki’s grip on your wrists is annoyingly effective.
"Wait, WAIT! I’m sorry!" you gasp, voice cracking from laughter. "I-I take it back! I take everything back!"
"Too late," Bucky says, smirking now, barely breathless himself from the effort.
Your laughter pitches higher as he shifts lower, targeting your hips, and your brain starts short-circuiting from the overload.
And through it all, even as your cheeks burn and your lungs scream, the warm, sharp heat of it stays with you-
He's laughing with you. Not at you.
He’s open. Present.
Alive.
So you brace to take your medicine.
Bucky's fingers scuttle lightly along your sides, dipping just beneath the hem of your shirt where skin meets air and nerves light up like a damn Christmas tree.
You lose it.
Your laugh is immediate - loud, cracked, breathless - and your entire body lurches like it’s trying to escape its own skin. You twist, squirm, kick, all of it completely fucking useless under the weight of a super soldier and the iron grip of a literal god.
"No- fuuuck, Bucky! I swear- I’m gonna-"
"Going to what?" he challenges, voice calm, maddeningly measured as he drags his fingers up your ribs, slow and deliberate. "Be more careful with your commentary next time?"
You shriek through another peal of laughter, your legs flailing against the couch cushions. "I was genuinely curious!"
Steve snorts from the other side of the room. "Sure you were."
Banner still doesn't even look up from his tablet. "This is what happens when you antagonise assassins with trauma and downtime."
You try to scream something back but all that comes out is a garbled, breathless sob-laugh as Bucky zeroes in on that brutal little spot just beneath your ribs, one hand holding you down by the hip while the other dances back and forth across it in merciless zigzags.
It’s not fair - he’s too strong, too steady, too fucking good at this.
"Buck, I swear-" you gasp between giggles, "-you’re gonna kill me!"
“You’ll live,” Bucky says dryly. But there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, that rare ghost of a grin that’s less threat and more reward. Like he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on.
You glare up at Loki, who's still got your wrists pinned above your head, effortlessly casual.
"You traitorous bastard," you wheeze. "Let me go and fight me like a god."
Loki raises a brow. "And risk being thrashed by a ticklish mortal writhing like a fish on a dock? I think not."
Bucky hits a weak spot and you squeal, lashing out at Loki - “You glittery frostbitten motherfucker!”
"Language," Steve calls from behind his coffee cup.
Loki smiles cold and bright. "I wasn't planning to get my hands dirty, but seeing as you insist on dragging me into this..."
He moves your wrists to one hand and slides the other down your arm. You suck air through the giggles, eyes going wide, and shake your head.
"W-w-wait! No! I'm sorry! I didn't- SHIHIT!"
His fingers glide with awful precision into the hollow of your underarm, just a featherlight stroke to start.
You scream.
Your body convulses violently, torn between twisting away from Bucky’s maddening fingers at your lower ribs and Loki’s devastating scrapes along your underarms.
"No - oh my god - fuck, Loki, don’t-!"
"Oh, we’re well past don’t," Loki says smoothly, fingers trailing in tight little circles, never fully lifting, just skating and brushing and tormenting.
It’s like they coordinated this. The way Bucky’s hand shifts lower again, teasing at the crease of your hipbone with just the pads of his fingers - sweeping side to side, unpredictable and effective. The way Loki keeps his strokes light, fluttering, like he's writing a damn poem on your skin in ancient runes.
Your stomach jerks every time Bucky’s touch flirts with your waistband, and the pressure of him straddling your hips pins you in place no matter how hard you buck.
You try to thrown him off, but he just shifts his knees, anchoring you harder. The muscle under his jaw twitches with restrained laughter. He’s trying to look serious. He’s failing.
You gasp, flailing weakly. "I’m gonna die-"
"Can’t die from tickling," Banner says absently. "Elevated heart rate, maybe. Definitely some stress on the diaphragm. Oh, and laughter-induced fatigue is a thing, too."
"I hate science!"
"Noted," Steve says, grinning now. "We’ll put it in your file."
"She’ll be fine," Steve says, sipping his coffee. "She needs the cardio."
You’re laughing so hard your voice is almost gone, hiccuping now, tears sliding sideways down your cheeks. "I- I swear- I’ll kill you both-"
"Already tried," Loki murmurs, deadpan, still tracing maddening circles under your arm. "Failed spectacularly, if I recall."
"Yeah," Bucky adds with a tilt of his head, "You’re not in much of a position to be making threats."
His fingers walk back up your ribs again, slowly, rhythmically, like he’s feeling each one - tracing the outlines like he's mapping you.
It’s unbearable.
It’s warm and raw and intimate in a way you didn’t expect, in a way that’s short-circuiting your brain and turning your limbs to jelly. It’s playful - but layered under that is a weight you can feel: that he's choosing this. Choosing you. Not mocking. Not hurting. Just being, here, with you, present and real and alive.
And that’s when Bucky leans in, face close to yours, his voice low and rough with amusement. "You bring up smut again," he says, "and next time I’m starting at your feet."
You wheeze. You actually wheeze.
Then he shifts his position just slightly. The movement is barely noticeable - just a subtle shift of weight, a lean forward - but it frees his right hand, which now dips lower.
You feel it coming before it lands. The anticipation alone has you screeching.
"No! No no no- not there-!"
But he does. His hand slips past your waistband, just far enough to press into the soft spot at your lower belly, fingers drumming lightly before grabbing at the hypersensitive nerves beneath.
You go feral.
Your scream dissolves into breathless, chaotic laughter, your entire body spasming under the onslaught. You thrash, but you’re caged by both of them - Bucky pressing you down, Loki above holding your arms in place like a steel-boned statue. You can’t breathe. Can’t think.
You’re just nerves and heat and helpless, writhing laughter.
Steve watches it all unfold, biting back a grin. "You know, this is probably against several peace treaties."
"Alright-okay-I’m dying," you gasp, choking on laughter, trying to twist away as Bucky’s fingers keep tormenting that same damn spot. "Mercy! Please, fuck - I mean it, I can’t-!"
"You sure?" Bucky cocks a brow. "Sounds like there’s still plenty left in you."
Your eyes close as you try to suck in enough air to speak. You kick the couch cushions blindly, and Loki’s fingers resume teasing your ribs, climbing up toward your armpit again, and your breath fractures.
"OH MY GOD- OKAY! I’M SORRY - FUCK - UNCLE, TRUCE, WHATEVER YOU WANT! I'M SERIOUS!"
Bucky finally stops. Slowly. His fingers ease off, dragging lightly across your stomach once more before retreating, and you melt into the cushions, panting, your body shivering from residual laughter.
Loki releases your wrists and stands, dusting his hands like he’s just completed a satisfying day’s work. “I’d say we’ve done a public service.”
You gasp like you’ve surfaced from underwater, cheeks on fire. You blink up at the ceiling and rasp, "I’m gonna have nightmares about fingers."
"Splendid," Loki says pleasantly.
"I hate you both," you croak.
Steve chuckles. "She’s lying."
Banner taps his tablet. "Endorphins through the roof. She’ll forgive you in five."
"Three," Steve corrects.
You let out a muffled groan, pressing your hands over your face. "I hate this entire team."
You don’t even realise when Bucky shifts - just feel the weight lift off your hips, the heat of him pulling away, the absence of torment like stepping out of a rainstorm.
Then his hand slips under your elbow and he’s tugging you upright, gentle but firm. Your limbs are jelly. Your lungs barely work. Your chest heaving with the aftershocks of too much laughter and too many nerves frayed to the edge.
You try to sit straight, but your body betrays you and you fall - helplessly, gracelessly - against his side where he sits.
Bucky lets out a low, amused huff as you slump against him like a puppet with its strings cut.
You mumble into the shoulder of his t-shirt. "I think I saw the light. Pretty sure it told me to go back to bed."
Steve snorts. "Not a chance."
You peel your face from Bucky’s shoulder just far enough to shoot a bleary glare toward the couch across from you.
Steve’s grinning around a mouthful of coffee. "It’s training time. Get your caffeine, get your gear, let’s go."
You groan and swiped a hand down your face. "I’ve already done my cardio."
Loki smirks faintly, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. "You’re welcome."
Bucky chuckles low, then pushes off the couch, offering you a hand. "C’mon. I’m game for some sparring."
You blink up at him. It takes a second to register what he’s said.
He hasn’t trained with the team in weeks. Not since things got dark again, and he started retreating into the corners of the compound like a ghost in the walls.
But now... he’s standing here, hand out, relaxed in a way you haven’t seen in too long. A flicker of light back in his eyes. Not all the way there. But present. Here.
You slide your hand into his, let him pull you to your feet, your legs still wobbly as hell.
As he turns toward the kitchen, you look past him - catching Steve’s eye across the room.
You don’t say a word. You don’t have to.
Steve gives a small nod.
You let out a slow breath and follow Bucky, faintly buzzed, breathless, nerves still crackling from the aftermath.
But warm.
An involuntary smile etches into your lips, eyes stinging as you blink back tears of relief.
Summary: Peter decides to get to the bottom of a consistent lie you’ve been telling, all while keeping you as flustered as possible.
AN: I originally started writing this weeks ago so it could come out before Brand New Day buttt I forgot to save and lost all my progress. I still think this is cute though and I love how teasy Peter came out in this.
Characters: Ler!Peter Parker, Lee!Reader
This fic has no use of Y/N but had the reader in a romantic relationship with Peter Parker. This is also a tickle fic so be advised!
—————————————————————————
“Pete… get up.”
“…No.”
You groaned and tried to push the heavy weight off of you. It was around 8am when you woke from the feeling of squirming on top of you. When you opened your eyes, you saw Peter Parker laying on you like you were a pillow. His head was tucked into the crook of your neck while one of his arms and legs laid across you, on top of that, half of his torso was practically on your side.
“You’re heavy… move.” You brought up a hand to shove him but he just grabbed it and pushed it back onto the bed.
“Nah I’m comfortable. Five more minutes.” Peter exhaled softly and his breath tickled your neck. On pure instinct, you shifted away from him. But Peter only chased you, pushing himself into you more and pressed a kiss to your neck. “Sorry, I forgot you were ticklish.”
“I’m not, you just caught me off guard.” You responded quickly, too quick. As if hearing the word ‘tickle’ was enough to make you nervous, which it was.
Peter chuckled, his voice low and slightly rough from sleep. “Really? This again?” Peter lifted his head and propped himself with his arm. “I know you’re ticklish, but every time you always insist you aren’t. Why’s that?”
“It’s because I’m not. You really did just catch me off guard.” You tried to sound composed but you could already feel the familiar butterflies in your stomach.
“You didn’t sound not ticklish last time. You were all ‘Peter stop! Please it tickles sooo much!’”
Your face went red as he brought up the last time he tickled you. It was during a movie you wouldn’t stop talking through, so he tickled every complaint out of you until you could sit quietly. You had insisted you weren’t ticklish then too, and he proved you wrong.
“I—! I’m not ticklish.” You decided to double down, knowing how this ended. You bit your lip and glanced at Peter’s hands slightly. But Peter noticed, so he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers just above your stomach.
“Maybe this time, I’ll tickle you until you tell me why you insist on lying so much. It would be nice to get some answers.” He said mischievously.
You froze. Telling Peter the truth, that you kept lying because it was the easiest way to provoke him into tickling you, would be so embarrassing. But before you had time to process, Peter was already tracing your sides.
“Come on bug, I can see you trying not to laugh. It’s easier if you let go…. Actually on second thought, it’s more fun if you let me drag it out of you. Cause then I get to do… this!” Peter went from tracing to full on scribbling up your sides and over your ribs.
“Pehehete! Hahahaha! I wasn’t ready!” You brought your hands down to grab his but he easily took both of your wrists and held them above your head with one hand.
“Oh you wanted a countdown?” Peter paused his tickling and lifted his hand up above your newly exposed armpit. Then he slowly lowered his hand down while wiggling his fingers. “10… 9… 8…”
You could barely stand to look at his hand like that. Your face was heating up more and it became harder not to burst into giggles the closer he got. “That’s not what I meant! Peter wait!”
“7… 6… 5…”
“No no! I’m not ticklish! Don’t!”
“4… 3… 2…” Peter paused for dramatic effect, and he was relishing in how giggly you were just from this.
“1!” His fingers touched down on your underarm and tickled like mad. You tried to twist away but he positioned himself to straddle your upper thighs. You were completely stuck and at his mercy now.
“Gahahaha! Peter! Plehehease! It—! Hahaha!”
“It what? Does it tickle? I’m curious how someone claiming to not be ticklish is laughing so hard right now. So, can you tell me?”
You didn’t have an answer for him, mainly because you were laughing too hard. You just shook your head and gripped onto the pillow your hands were held up against.
“No? You’ve got nothing to say? That’s fine, I’ll say it for you.” Peter grinned and moved his fingers to your stomach. He started with simple poking to make you squirm, but then he spidered his fingers across your stomach and even dipped his finger into your navel.
“You’re ticklish, bug. Really ticklish in fact. Do you want to tell me why you keep lying now?” Peter spoke in a deceivingly innocent voice, he even leaned close to your ear when he spoke.
“B-Becahahause!”
“Because what?”
You shut your eyes tightly and pressed your face into your arm, while trying to ignore how his teases were making your heart flutter. "Are you feeling shy?" Peter murmured, his smile was something between adoring and mischevious.
"I'm nohohot shy!"
"Sounds like you are, maybe just a tiny bit shy." Peter chuckled, "Come on, just tell me already! You know I’d never make fun of you, right?"
Somewhere in all the laughter, the tickling started to slow. You caught most of your breath and opened your eyes to look at him. His smile took your breath away, it was so wide you could see his dimples. Sunlight from the window landed on his face so perfectly that you could see the specks of hazel in his deep brown eyes. Peter must’ve noticed you staring because his cheeks went slightly pink.
“Are you going to tell me now?” He said softly while leaning a bit closer. Your chest was inches from his now.
“Pete I…” You took a deep breath and braced yourself for his possible reaction. “I like it. Not in a weird way! I just enjoy it!” You winced as you waited for his response.
But Peter just kept smiling and let out a small laugh. “I figured as much. But I wanted to hear you say it yourself. You realize you can just ask, right? There’s no reason to lie and provoke me.”
Your face went red again as his words set in. He really wanted you to just ask? It seemed so simple, almost too god to be true. “You’re serious? If I just asked at any time you wouldn’t mind?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, any time. Besides, I love making you happy. And if this,” his fingers darted up your ribs to make you giggle “is what it takes, then I don’t mind.”
“Then… can I ask you something, Peter?” You asked, still nervous but with a bit more confidence.
“Of course, anything.”
“Can you… you know..”
Peter chuckled and brushed a strand of hair out of your face. “Don’t be shy. You already know the answer is yes.”
Your shut your eyes and took a quick breath before finally ripping off the metaphorical bandage and asking. “Can you… tickle me?”
Your question was answered by a raspberry on your neck followed by your giggly shrieks. Needless to say, neither of you got out of bed any time soon.
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.
⤷ tags: peter parker x reader, fluff, tickling, 1k words
⤷ summary: it is the sworn duty of every girlfriend on earth to annoy their boyfriend. it is the way it was, the way it is, and the way it always will be. you do wish that peter would be more understanding of this universal rule, of course.
as you worked your magic on peter's shampoo, you couldn't help but stifle a tiny giggle.
peter's enhanced senses twitched. he could practically smell the mischief from miles away.
"oh my god. oh my god oh my god." you dove out of the bathroom, crashing your way back to your room as quickly as your legs could carry you.
"heyyyyyy." you managed to feign a realistic position in a matter of seconds before peter came barging in your room.
"i could've sworn i heard a lil giggle from you." peter smirked. "and that's never good."
"nothing, nothing, it's just that... that- my book is hilarious!" you forced a laugh, the awkward sound echoing off the thin walls of your dorm. peter narrowed his eyes at you.
"well..." he didn't buy it. but he let it go. "i'll be watching you. i'm just gonna go take a shower and i'll come cuddle with you okay, bug?"
you fought to keep your face neutral.
"okay!" you flinched at your high-pitched, over-enthusiastic response.
of course, you had added hair dye in his shampoo. cliché, but it yields undeniably hilarious results.
and right at the perfect timing.
"Y/N!" peter shrieked, uncharacteristically panicked as you chuckled quietly to yourself.
"peter? are you okay?" you tried to calm the wavers in your voice as you held in your laughter.
he huffed, a puff of air rushing through his nose. it was adorable. "i would be if you didn't add a fuckin' bottle of hair dye in my shampoo."
at this point, you were struggling to maintain your innocent facade. tilting your head, you pretended to be confounded.
"what?"
"boy, we gotta sign you up for some acting classes." he said, waves of sarcasm coating his petulant voice.
gazing at his bright pink hair and his playfully angry eyes, you couldn't hold in the breathy laughter he drew from you. you clutched your stomach helplessly, trying to stop the flows of wheezing.
peter glared, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement.
the first straw. his eyes told you menacingly.
"hey y/n, will you help me with something?"
"sure." you plopped down your book and ran over.
"i'm-" peter blushed as you took in his predicament.
the idiot had managed to get himself beyond tangled, stuck on the ceiling, dangling.
the sound that escaped your mouth was something of a national geographic documentary. you burst into uncontrollable laughter. peter turned five shades redder.
"i'm sorry, did i roll my eyes out loud? peter parker, you absolute idiot." you quipped.
peter grunted grumpily.
"just help me."
"no can do, crawly-legs." you giggled as you ran out of his room with peter spitting angry insults at your back.
you would help him down. eventually.
the second straw. you could almost feel him mouthing.
"OWW" a scream erupted from your mouth, the harsh sound causing your throat to blister as it travelled upwards. you collapsed to the ground. faking a grimace, you squinted from the pressure keeping your face straight, stomach shaking with preemptive giggles.
"oh god." you could hear peter murmuring and scrambling from a distance as he rushed to your room.
...and crashing right into the plastic wrap you had spent hours perfecting on your doorframe, his flattened face recoiling from the impact.
"what, i thought spiders couldn't get tangled in webs."
peter growled.
the last straw.
"uh-oh." was all you could get out before peter tore down the plastic wraps, bolting towards you at an inhuman speed.
as he pounced on you, you gasped. peter poked your sides until your face squinted up, desperately holding in your laughter.
the ticklish feeling of gentle prods all over your stomach was unbearable. peter was never harsh, and in many ways, it made this so much worse.
his fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot on your stomach, and you breathed out a laugh. he raised his eyebrows and sent both his hands clawing at that spot.
"nohoHOHNONO!" you shrieked. peter smirked at you devilishly and fluttered his fingers over your oversensitive neck.
"i'M SOHOHOHOHORY!" you managed to get out before bursting into uncontrollable laughter, your entire body twisting violently but with no avail.
peter let you up, smiling in satisfaction when he saw your blushing face.
"asshole." you smacked his arm playfully, glaring at those brown eyes that would forever make you flustered.
"i love you." the words that slipped out of peter's mouth sounded so genuine, so true, so loving that for a moment, you couldn't believe that these words were directed towards you.
he leaned down, his hand cupping your nape, and entrapped your lips into a passionate kiss.
"i love you too." the words felt like you were pouring them out of your heart. they were.
you loved the way he would scare you when your back was turned, never being able to scare him back because of his stupid fuckin' spidey-sense. you loved the way his hair always felt fluffy and soft and vanilla-y, always there for you to bury your face in. you loved the way he would hug you close to his chest, allowing you to relish in the feeling of true love.
Request: Could you please do a fic where the reader is new on set and is doing her "ice breaker" thing with Kathryn and Aubrey, and they decide to tickle her to make her more comfortable and make her less nervous?
You're 1/2 people on this entire app to write agatha all along tickle fics and I'm so thankful for that 🥹 I'm too scared to write my own
Note: Thank you so much for your sweet words and for this request! Kathryn and Aubrey are a dream duo, so I hope I did them justice :) Side note, I had trouble writing parts of this because I got embarrassed lol. Enjoy!!
Word Count: 977
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You were on set with Aubrey and Kathryn, both recently coming in hot from their last roles in Agatha All Along. You knew they weren’t actually witches, but being around them was intimidating.
This movie was unrelated to witches, and instead you all were portraying a messy love triangle. When you heard the topic of the movie, you agreed immediately. Who wouldn’t want to live out their fantasy?
The first week on set was a little awkward since they already knew each other and were closer in age. You felt like the third wheel sometimes, but you knew they weren’t trying to make you feel that way on purpose.
You were taking a break between takes, sitting with the two of them in Aubrey’s trailer.
“So how are you adjusting, Y/N?” Kathryn asked you.
“I think I’m doing okay. I’ve never done a role like this before, so it’s a little embarrassing,” you admitted.
“Awww, that’s so cute,” Aubrey teased, as you rolled your eyes.
“It’s not cute,” you said, playfully punching her.
“Is there anything we can do to help you overcome that feeling?” Kathryn asked, gently rubbing your back.
“I don’t know. I’m just naturally shy so I think it’s my default at first.”
“I have an idea,” Aubrey spoke up.
“What?” You asked.
“Why don’t we create something even more embarrassing so that when you’re filming, it won’t seem as bad?”
“I can’t think of anything that would do that,” you said.
“Really?” She asked, standing up and sitting down next to you on the bed. With that, she reached out to tickle your side, causing you to squeal and curl up into a ball.
“Hehehey! What are you doing!?”
“I’m helping you deal with your embarrassment,” she said, giving Kathryn a look to join in.
Before you knew it, you were being attacked on both sides. You tried to fight them off, but it was difficult when it was four hands versus two. They grabbed each arm with one hand, gently pulling it towards them and away from you. They then used their other free hand to tickle both of your sides and up your ribs.
“NOHOHOHO STAHAHAP!” You pleaded, kicking your legs everywhere in a futile attempt to shoo them away.
“Are you still embarrassed from acting in a threesome?” Kathryn joined in on the teasing.
“YEHEHES!”
“I guess we’ll have to make it more embarrassing,” Kathryn said, reaching out with one finger to tickle your exposed armpit. Aubrey took note and did the same on her side. You yelped and tugged your arms as much as you could, but they had a death grip on your wrists. Your face began to turn red from all the laughing and begging.
The girls showed some mercy for now, letting you breathe, but not letting go of your arms.
“I always knew you two were evil. They don’t just cast anyone to play witches,” you huffed.
“Hey!” Aubrey said, reaching out to use her nails over your neck and ears.
“Eeeek!” You shrieked, curling up as much as you could, shaking your head from side to side.
“Aw, you don’t like that do you? Or do you?” Aubrey whispered in your ear, making you giggle even more.
“GO AWAHAHAY!” You shouted, trying to kick her again.
“With all that kicking I think Y/N is asking for some foot tickles,” Kathryn said, releasing your arm to pin your ankles into place.
“No, wait!” You sat up quickly.
“Bad spot?” They asked, skittering their fingers over your soft soles.
OHOHOH MY GOHOD OKAHAHAY PLEHEHEASE! IHIHIM DOHOHONE!”
“You think you can decide when we’re done with you? How cute,” Kathryn teased. You sat up in an attempt to push or tickle them off of you, but it backfired quickly.
“Where do you think you’re going, blushy?” Kathryn giggled, and the two of them quickly flipped you over onto your stomach.
“Is your back ticklish?” Aubrey asked, slipping her hand underneath your shirt and gently testing her nails.
You froze as your whole body tensed. There was no way you’d survive the two of them tickling you there, so you decided to try and fool them into thinking you weren’t ticklish there.
“N-nope! It feels niceee,” you trailed off, biting back a giggle.
Kathryn also ran her fingers on your back, slightly lifting your shirt up to expose more of it.
You were straining really hard now, knowing you were close to breaking. They knew too. Their fingers moved up slightly, grazing the back of your ribs. You flopped wildly, swatting at them aggressively like a cat.
“Ticklish?” They asked.
“No!”
“Hmm, I never knew how stubborn you were,” Aubrey said, now tickling near your shoulder blades.
You lost it, bursting into hysterical laughter, flopping around on the bed.
“OKAHAY ENOUGH IHIT TIHICKLES!”
You were at a loss for words now, as their nails were too quick for your brain to register. One second you felt them on your shoulders, the next they were on your ribs or dipping down to tickle your sides.
“I’d say this is more embarrassing than your acting role, wouldn’t you agree?” Aubrey asked.
“YEHEHES WHATEVER JUHUST STAHAHAP!” You begged, as they finally stopped tormenting you.
You immediately flipped back over to protect yourself.
“You’re welcome,” they said.
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“Yeah, but now you’re more comfortable with us. Anything you have to do for acting in this role with us will seem so tame compared to this,” Kathryn said.
“Plus, we now know your weakness, so I’d say that’s a bonding win,” Aubrey said with a wink. You blushed and tried to play it off.
There were still another 20 minutes before you guys had to film the next scene, so you laid in bed with the two of them next to you, making the perfect sand(witch)
Summary; Peter is bored and feels left out. Holidays could be extremely draining sometimes..everyone was away, but did that really mean he was as alone as he thought?
Characters; Lee!Peter Ler!Sam/Bucky
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A soft sigh left Peter as he laid over the table in the avengers lounge. Holidays were usually fun, playing with friends, texting, seeing new things.. but not this time. His eyes flickered to his phone. Two whole weeks had passed and he hadn’t heard of MJ or Ned. Both were on vacation, somewhere out in the world with their parents, and he was stuck in New York.. Aunt may was working overseas because of an emergency and if it couldn't get any worse.. His suit was hidden away, his aunt had forbade him to run around in it while she was gone.. a grimace fell onto his face.. and Tony? He was arguing with Steve about some weird incoming mission.
His eyes fell to the papers which he still had to finish for school. “Uuugh..” he bemoaned and melted even more over the table.
A yelp escaped him when fingers ran over his shoulder blades and his head snapped up. “Having issues kid?” Bucky asked with slight amusement at his reaction. Peter puffed his cheeks “No, not really.” He sighed and grabbed the pen again, twirling it between his fingers. Bucky raised an eyebrow and sat down at the corner by his side, “What’s the long face for champ?” He hummed, his amusement long gone. Peter shook his head but eyed his phone.
Bucky followed his gaze, “You waiting on someone?” Peter hummed, not meeting the soldiers gaze, rather staring back at his work. "Mj and Ned." he stated lowly. It was awfully rare that they were apart, specifically so that no one could muster up the time to talk to one another. It was like hell on earth,.. for a few days not a problem but so long…
A chime of the elevator announced a newcomer and ripped Peter out of his thoughts, Bucky looked up and exchanged a worried glance with Sam. The uncle of two frowned and walked to Peters side, opposite of Bucky. “You’re still sitting on those?” He asked lightly, raising an eyebrow. Peter sighed in annoyance and eyed him. Sam’s eyebrows raised at the stink eye he got before frowning “How about a break?” He offered “I was about to collect mister Grumpy over there anyways for a game marathon.” He offered with a playful grin as his thumb pointed at Bucky. Peter eyed the work sheets, hearing Bucky scoff before seeing him stand in the corner of his eyes.
The man hummed and promptly took the kid by the armpits “Decision time’s up, come on buddy.” He grinned. The sudden gravity change made Peter break into hysterical giggles in an instant, “HEY! Buhucky!” He gasped and kicked out, only for Sam snigger and squeeze the boy's knee in a playful manner. “Sahaham!” Peter giggled shrilly and kicked out at him, all sadness fogotten in a fracture of a second. Bucky chuckled and held him slightly higher “I think we might've found our first game” he commented as a smirk played on his features. Sam huffed, eyeing them both with a playful smile "And our first rule, no kicking the game master!" He growled playfully. Peter froze for a second at the lingering threat before his giggles returned tenfold and he shook his head, squirming over Bucky and out of his hold. Landing with a slight backflip and a low stance “N-Now hold on- I never agreed—“ Sam sniggered and formed claws, slowly advancing to the teen.
“Better run before this timer runs out as well.” Sam warned with a playful grin.
Peter frowned, hands in front of him “Sam- I don’t” “Pete..” Bucky purred making Peter’s half-growl falter and as soon as those words left the super soldier and he took a step back. Bucky smirked deviously “3….” Peter shook his head and lowered himself further with a nervous grin, getting ready for them to pounce. “2..” Sam grinned and took a step forward making the boy yelp and scatter out of the lounge. “OOH PETER!” Sam thaunted and dashed after him “BUCKYHYhe HAHASN’T COUNTED DOWN YEHEHEHET!” Peter yelped and giggled shilly when he barely side stepped Sam’s pounce, making the man slip over the freshly cleaned floor.
The boy laughed as he made it past the man, jumping over Sam who was looking at the wall down the hallway in disbelief. Bucky hot on Peters tail they continued the chase. “Careful! Ground’s slippery!” Sam called making both males up front cackle. Peter slowled slightly at the short distraction and Bucky caught up. The younger squeaked and let himself drop to the floor sliding along it before grabbing the doorway and shooting into the living room. He got up in a smooth fashion and with a rather proud expresion which was however short lived and he yelped when Bucky had followed his example, however undercalulated the force, making them crash into another. Peter let out a short scream as he got swept off his feet, barely having been warned by his spider sense. Bucky held onto him, both of them coming to a quick stop in what was almost the middle of the room.
The two sat there for a second, recollecting themselves. “Please ensure not to run on slippery ground Peter.” Friday suddenly chimed in making Peter growl at her yet before he could retaliate he felt the super solder breathing down his neck. “Buhucky!” He whined a giggle and scrunched up as he leaned away from the super soldier. The man grinned “What? I’m not doing anything!” Sam sniggered and walked over to join them. “Great catch Buck.” He smirked and loomed over the boy. “Anything you wanna say before the tickle monster takes over?”
Peter smirked back at him “You suck” “You little...” Sam growled and pounced. Peter squeaked and kicked his legs, practically pushing Bucky and him further away from Sam. Yet it was useless as hands dug into his sides and ribs "NaAhahAhao! SAhAham!"
The hands lifted in an instant at the hiccupy shriek. He met Sam's eyes which held uncontrolled mischief and surprise. "Did-" he smirked in glee and looked at Bucky "Did you hear that?!" he exclaimed. Peter flushed red with a soft groan but the low laugh behind him made him smile anew and giggle in anticipation. "I did." the smirk dripping heavily in bucky's voice. "Never heard him make that sound before." he sniggered making Peter groan yet again in utter embarrassment. "Will you- EhEhehehey!" he yelped and pushed at Bucky's hands which latched onto his sides, leaving him open. Sam filed that away for later with a grin as Peter's bouncy giggles filled the otherwise silent living room.
“Nahahaha! Cohome on!” He bemoaned playfully. Sam sniggered “‘Come on’ what Pete?” The male adjusted himself before squeezing Peter’s knee, making him kick out. “WAH-! NOhohoHohOhu!” The boy squeaked and reached for Sam’s wrist only for his arms to slam back down with a giggly shriek when Bucky scribbled along his higher ribs… threateningly close to his armpits.
“Buhuhuckyheheee!”
Sam huffed at the kicking limps and growled “Peter, what was rule number one?” He asked, yet not getting an answer aside form boyish giggles as Peter tried pushing himself up and away from Bucky’s silent threat. The male smirked, Peter had a soft blush on his cheeks which heated his ears, “Nohohoho! buhucky!” The kid warned through his giggles. Peter shook his head, oh he was doomed, these two weren’t going to let him get anywhere until they thought the game was over. A almost electric feeling raced over his whole nervous system, making him arch his back before leaning forth to his trapped leg. “SAM!” He squeaked out, reaching for the hand below his knee only for a very cold hand to slip under his shirt and scribble over his ribs “HeHEhEHEhy! BuHUHUhucky!” He laughed lightly, hands clasping back down in an X shape to protect his torso. Another flick up the back of his knee made him shriek and tug at it, getting it free with ease. Sam eyed the boy, their eyes locked and Peter felt a thrill rush through him at the silent threat, yet unable to get away from the Falcon who was yet again rushing after his leg, all he did was lean further into Bucky as if he could phase through the soldier somehow.
Talking about the Soldier, Bucky was smirking down endaringly at the boy. Somehow he reminded him of Steve when they were younger, the captain would also be too ticklish for his own good, yet unlike Peters sensitivity, Steve's wasn't well known.
A dark chuckle left his lips and he explored his stomach a little, taking note of the hightened pitch in giggles and every reaction it sought from the spider. Peter meanwhile was loosing his little head as the two worked in an awful precision to make him flail and laugh back and forth.
"Heh, poor kid. Too tickish for his own good" Bucky mused, Sam looked up at his friend with a hint of surprise, the guy wasn't always up for these kinds of games after all.
As quickly as the surpise had came it passed and a devious smirk played on his features. "yeah, poor Peter." he sighed dramatically as he yet again caught the limp and this time kept it in his lap. "I have to say, being that ticklish has to be maddening." he shook his head. Bucky hummed, his amusement leaking through as the two ignored the low giggly groan from the teen to "cut it out!" "Yeah, imagine.. I mean it would be a true shame if a villain would ever find out about this." he 'muttered'. "IHIhiHIhi'm RIhIHihight HEHERE!" Peter protested. Sam hummed "Did you hear something?" Bucky shook his head in feigened innocence. "No, must've been the wind." he said and smirked at his friend "getting so old you're already hearing nonesense?" he teased. Sam growled and his attack on the boys knee and occasional hip squeezes picked up.
Peter yelped and kicked Sam, only for his other leg to be caught as well. "What did we say about kicking?" Bucky growled onto his ear. "IHIHi DihIHIDn'T MEHEHAN TOAHAHA- BUHUCKY NAHA!" he cried out and squeezed his eyes shut, succumbing to the dreadful 'torture' that Bucky had unleashed on his armpits.
Sam sniggered "thanks Buck." Bucky huffed in acknowledgement.
Peter laughed his heart out for awhile, the technique of scribbling and pinching around his armpit was driving him up the wall, where did Bucky learn this anyways?!
“AHAHA OHOHOKAY IHIHI’M SOHORRY!” He squeaked out between bouts of laughter and Bucky let up, feeling Peter relax into him.
Sam sniggered and gave the kid a second to catch his breath before he hummed innocently. “You know what we should do?” He asked making Bucky hum curiously. Peter also shook his head, slightly adjusting in Buckys hold to be a little more comfortable, maybe thinking they were already done yet Sam had a mischievious, almost evil plan... “Peter in biology you have the human organs right now, right?” Peter nodded “yeah..?” He murmured and raised an eyebrow “Why do you ask?”
Sam shrugged “do you know where the liver lies inside?” He asked and Peter opened his mouth to reply, his hand pointing at Sam's abdomen, then he pointed to his own and then he let it fall with a soft, concrentrated frown.
It was easy on paper… “uh..” he murmured and Sam shook his head with a soft tut. “Here, see…” he said and moved his finger up between Peter and Bucky to Peter’s back and slowly moved down. Peter gasped softly and stiffed at the feeling. Sam slowly moved over his side to his front, feeling the muscles jump underneath. “And it goes along here…” he muttered his explanation and a grin fell onto Peters features, yet he held the giggles in.
Sam grinned. “And same here, it’s the other one, both go all the way over here.” He said, moving both his fingers around his back to his front. To his glee Peter let out a high pitched giggle and clamped his arms down.
Sam huffed “Pete you need to know this… Bucky help me out here would you?” “My pleasure.” Peter shuddered and anticipating giggles left his mouth, he tried swallowing them, only managing ever so slightly.
Sam smirked internally, once the kid figured out they were playing around he’d definitely kick their asses in combat training… or play one or two pranks but the soon to be realisation on his face was going to make all of this so worth it.
“You should show the kid the stomach too” Bucky chimed in making Sam hum in delight “you’re right..” he said and looked at Peter “know where it is?” Peter was about to answer, only for Sam to start tracing it “it goes from up here.. aaaaaaall the way over here and then back down heeere…” Peter giggled, playfully pushing at Sam’s hands “Stohohop!” He whined at the way too playful gesture “what why? Isn’t this important for your studies?” Sam smirked and Peter stared at him, his silly grin not leaving even when the realization was setting in “Noho!” He squeaked “We ohonly need to know it for the books!”.
Sam sniggered “well too bad!” He growled and latched onto his sides. Peter squealed and grabbed at man’s hands, wriggling in his hold with bubbly laughter. “Nahaha SAHahaham! Thihis iHIhisnt ahabout bihiologyhehee! Youhuhu Prihick!” He groaned the last part though it more so sounded like a whiny giggle.
Bucky sniggered and tased his hip, “Well come on then kid, show him!” He encouraged, making the boy finally wrangle with the two, turning sideways to fight off all found hands.
Peter laughed as he wrestled with the two, giggling through and squeaking from time to time when one got through his defenses to squeeze or scribble. It was a silly display truly, it was fun to play around like that, but if you’d ask Peter about it, he’d never admit such a thing. "Naha, Cohohome on guhuys!" Peter sniggered as he pushed at Bucky’s hands again, “Saham called you old yesterday!” He squeaked out before Sam growled playfully and his back hit the ground, both men hovering above him with almost wicked smirks. Bucky then eyed Sam “Seriosuly?” He growled and Sam scoffed “No way!” Bucky’s eyes narrowed and Peter giggled “no he did!” He exclaimed. “No i didnt!” Sam growled down. “What? You calling me a LiHahahAHAHA!” Peter threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut when Sam dug into his armpits. “Yes.” Sam growled down at him, searching for the one spot that drew the teen up the wall. Bucky watched and shook his head, with a well placed squeeze to Sam’s hip the man yelped and threw his arms down to protect himself “EY!” He squeaked in outrage. Bucky smirked and shook his head “You seriously need to take lessons from Nat about lying.” He mused smugly and before Sam could say anything Bucky continued “And we’ll talk about your little comment later.” He warned and Peter smirked at Sam. The man eyed him and growled. Peter giggled and pushed himself up onto his arms “Told you you shouldn’t have said that.” He reminded and Sam scoffed, “You’re not safe yet don’t even start becoming a smart ass.” He warned and Peter pouted at that “Not a smart ass.” He growled back. Bucky shook his head at the two “we just had him smiling.” He complained to Sam who smirked “then let’s get that smile back.” Sam grinned and formed claws. “After all, No sulking around the tower” he warned before his hands went for Peter’s hips. “NO- SAHAAM!” The boy screeched and went to catch the hands, surprised when they suddenly turned course and went to his sides instead. Too baffled and occupied with Sam's sudden evasive maneuver he didn’t notice Bucky latch onto his hips.
The screech and belly laughter that followed made the two men laugh along with him. “NAHAHA COHOME OHON! IHIHI’M SMIHILING! GUHUYS!” He cried out through his laughter, head thrown back with messy hair and a soft blush along his cheeks and nose. Bucky sniggered adoringly at the boy and Sam sighed “finneeee, I guess we can let up.” He said ‘sadly’ but the smile on his features showed just how pleased he was with the work.
Bucky hummed and followed Sam’s lead, letting up on the kid.
Peter giggled and closed his eyes. They shot right back open when his shirt got lifted and he looked right at Bucky before- “NOHOHOAHAHAHA!” The boy squealed as the man placed a raspberry on his stomach. Bucky leaned back with a smirk and pat his tight. “That one was for good measure.” He stated making Peter send him a giggly middle finger.
“Woahahaha, careful, don’t let Steve see that.” Sam laughed. Which earned him a smack to the knee “youhu’re the worst!” He growled.
A knock interrupted them and they looked up. Steve and Tony. “Are you bullying my intern?” Tony huffed and Peter got up squeaking when Sam pinched his side. He barely side stepped and raced to the other two men. “Thehey’re being mean!” He said, practically hiding between them.
Tony sniggered and gave his trainee a soft neck tickle “mihister staahark!” He whined and ducked out of it “ehenough!”. Tony grinned and shook his head in adoration. Steve hummed “Leave the poor kid” he mused and patted Peter’s shoulder. “Go get a board game. I’ll join you in a second.” He said, his tone of voice however hinted mischief.
Peter raised an eyebrow and smiled, looking at the man curiously “okay…?” He nodded nonetheless as Steve turned to Bucky and Sam.
“So, which of you two bullies want to go first?” He growled and slowly inched forwards. Bucky and Sam’s grins turned to blank surprise and disbelief, Sam gasped when Bucky scrambled “Hey! Wait up!” He growled and raced after him “don’t you dare throw me under the bus now!” He called after him and Steve rushed after them.
Tony and Peter sniggered at the display, hearing the three yell about it being mighty unfair with two super soldiers and one soldier.
Tony smirked “how about we play a round until captain tickle monster joins us?” Peter flushed red at the name and rolled his eyes with a smile “yeah yeah, let’s go.” He huffed.
Tony smirked and poked his trainees back “bet I’m faster in the lounge then you?” Peter smirked at his mentor “bet I’m first?” Tony huffed “as if. On three”
1…..2……..3! And the two were off, racing down the still slightly slippery hallway, with one promptly overshooting the lounge while the other managed to slide in perfectly fine.
And the two who were getting chased around the compound? Let’s just say they’re still running. ;)
Warnings: a lot of tickling and some older brother/mentor tickling so if that’s not your thing please feel free to sit this one out
Author’s note: This is a squealing Santa fic for the lovely @inneedofsupervision I’m so sorry your gift is late but I hope I make up for the wait. I also wanted to give a massive thanks to @squealing-santa for running this event and for graciously helping me with the deadline.
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The bell rang, sending chairs scuffing across the floor as students pushed their way out of the classroom. Kids pushed past him, knocking shoulders with him in the chaos as Peter waded to the back of the room.
“You don’t have to wait for me, ya know?” Ned said, roughly shoving his stuff in his folders.
Peter’s brows furrowed. He took one look at the mess on Ned’s desk and started helping him pack his things up. “Yes, I do. I’m the reason we got separated in this class, and we always walk out together.”
Ned brushed off his help, but continued shoving things away. “Aww thanks Peter.” He picked up a notebook paper that had floated down to the floor somehow. “You'd make such a good girlfriend,” he said, then frozen with the paper still between his fingers.
Peter gently pried it from his hands, sliding it into his backpack, sensing that all of the tests were starting to get to him. “Was that what you meant to say?”
Ned finally dethawed, going back to the task at hand. “We’re not acknowledging it.”
Peter chortled, fighting back a comment about the blush on his face. “Yes we are.”
Ned pointed a finger at him. “Not if you still want your christmas present.”
Peter mimicked zipping his lips, not wanting to risk losing his gift. He didn’t have to use his spidey senses to guess what it was. Ned had been dropping quote unquote hints to him about his present all week, and Peter had figured out it was legos by Wednesday.
He filed the last of Ned’s papers away, which was less of putting papers in folders, and mostly a lot of shoving. Peter didn’t even know how he managed to collect this many papers in the first place.
“You aren’t going to be able to find any of your papers when we come back from break,” Peter remarked, picking up a broken folder that was nearly split in half with all the papers inside of it.
Ned shrugged. “I’ll just throw out anything I don’t need when January comes.”
“Then get a new folder for the semester so you can break it by summer?” Peter asked, fighting back a grin. He knew he was pushing his luck with his christmas gift on the line, but Peter had a gift for him as well, and he wasn’t afraid to bargain his way back into Ned’s good graces.
“Exactly,” Ned nodded. “See, I’m glad you get it.”
Peter rolled his eyes.
“By Mr. Smith!” Peter called, waving to his teacher as they walked out the door.
“Bye boys, stay safe over break. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He said, closing the door on them on their way out.
The hallways were a mess of hustle and bustle, everyone eager to escape the building as fast as possible. With the thought of finals erased from their minds, and their warm beds waiting for them at home to catch up on some overdue sleep, no one was wasting another minute in that dreadful building.
Peter tapped the top of the frame as Ned and him pushed through the doors, letting the cold New York winter air blow into the hallways, sending Christmas lights fluttering in the breeze.
“My gift?” Peter asked, once they were outside and away from the entrance.
“I want mine first,” Ned said.
Peter cocked his head at him, a coy smile playing at his lips. “How’d you know I bought you one?”
Ned deadpanned. “Oh come on Peter, we do the same thing every year. We give each other gifts on the last day of school before break.”
Peter dropped the act. “Fine.”
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small box covered messily in red candy cane wrapping. As he handed it to Ned he realized he’d missed a spot, and he hoped he didn’t notice.
Luckily, Ned tore it open as fast as he always did, barely noticing the wrapping before he immediately threw it away.
“Do you know what it is?” Peter asked, as Ned continued staring at it without saying anything.
Ned’s brows furrowed. “I don’t think so.”
Peter tapped on the clear box. “It’s a Palladium core I encased in resin.”
Ned’s eyes went wide. “No, it’s not-” he trailed off, but Peter nodded.
“Look at the front of it.”
Ned flipped it around and gasped, holding a hand to his mouth. “You got it signed by him?”
Peter smiled. “Yup. This is one of the ones that was inside him,” Peter stopped, holding up a finger. “Wait, not like that.”
Ned grabbed him by the shoulders. “Who cares! Peter! This is the best gift ever!”
Peter grinned even wider as his friend shook him rather aggressively, the zippers on his backpack clanging with the movement. It really hadn’t been that difficult to come by, Tony had just had to replace his, and when Peter asked about it, Tony had happily complied.
He thought it was a little weird at first, but he had just said, “kids these days” then scoffed and walked off, leaving Peter with the core.
Ned stopped shaking him, a frown overtaking his face. “Aww, but all I got you was legos.”
Peter’s face lit up at the mention. “No, are you kidding me? I’m about to get a bunch of sciency stuff from the avengers, all I want are some legos.”
“Alright, fine,” Ned groaned, handing him a bright gift bag.
Peter took it and ripped all of the tissue paper out of the bag. “Yes!” he cheered. “All I needed was the hulk to complete my set.”
Ned raised a brow. “Do the avengers ever find it weird that you collect lego figurines of them?”
Peter felt his cheeks warm. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never told them.”
“Heard,” Ned nodded.
“Alright, see you in a few days?” Ned asked, bumping his fist against his.
Peter finished the handshake. “Yep, I’ll see you then.”
Usually the two would walk home on the last day, but this year was different. As the snow began to lightly fall over the city, Peter was headed towards the avengers tower for a few days.
Aunt May had won some sort of radio contest back in November to go on a Christmas cruise for five days. She was overjoyed, until she found out she had only been given a ticket for one person. The last thing she wanted to do was leave him alone for Christmas, stating that she would rather work double shifts at the community center for two weeks than ever even think about leaving him by himself in New York. Peter was grateful she didn’t know about his nightly patrols, fearful that she might very well have a heart attack, but he needed to come up with some way to convince her to go anyway. Peter knew she needed a break, but after almost a month of trying to reassure her he’d be fine, even he was starting to run out of ways to convince her.
Peter was ranting about it to Tony one day in the lab, and he’d offered him up a solution on a silver platter.
Apparently, as long as he was staying with the Earth’s mightiest heroes, May was willing to let him stay in New York without her. He’d still had to assure her a dozen times that he would be fine with her leaving him on christmas, but they’d managed to pull it off. Just before school that day, she’d left for the airport with her bags. She’d placed a kiss on his cheek, told him to have fun, and to text lots of pictures. She added on as she stood in the doorframe, that she wanted him to be good for Tony. Peter fought the urge to laugh, considering it would be more fitting if she told Tony to behave himself.
He’d heard rumors of Tony Stark’s infamous Christmas parties, and had been fighting the urge to ask him if he’d be invited for the last week.
The walk passed by faster than it usually did, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what he could get up to for the next five days. As he approached the tower, he looked up at the full height of it. The A was already accumulating a fair amount of snow on top of it as the gray skies above it seemed to swirl around the building.
Peter heaved in a breath before he rang the doorbell. There would be more heroes in the tower than he was used to for the next few days. Tony was inviting all kinds of people from all corners of the universe for the week. He’d already met so many of his heroes, and now he had the potential to interact with even more.He’d tried to tease it out of Tony, but he’d only held a finger to his lips and told him he’d find out eventually. However, here Peter was, and the day was finally here.
At last, he gathered up the courage to actually ring the bell, and he listened intently to the sound echoing through the first few levels of the tower.
It was always a mystery who would open the door for him at the Avengers tower. More often than not, it was Happy or Pepper, but occasionally he would get one of the other’s.
Today, he was surprised to be met with no one. The door unlocked on its own, and it just swung open, seemingly on a stray breeze. Peter walked in cautiously, his footsteps light, but nothing seemed glaringly wrong except for the mysterious door. He quietly hung his bag on the hanger Tony had drilled into the wall, and began tip toeing into the living room.
He turned the corner, peeking out from behind the door frame when he spotted Wanda, and another woman he didn’t recognize.
“Oh, hi Peter!” Wanda called. “The other’s are upstairs in various places.”
“Oh, thanks for letting me in,” he said, staying a distance away from them. They seemed to be in the middle of something before he walked in, the other person on the couch blushing furiously.
Wanda stood, placing her glass of wine on the table beside her. “Oh, I almost forgot, Spider-man this is Tele, Tele this Spider-man.” Wanda turned back to Tele. “Or I guess I should specify, this is our world's Spider-man. God, that’s going to get difficult when everyone gets here.”
At Wanda’s words, Peter’s memory came flooding back to him. “Ohhh, your Peter three’s friend.”
They nodded. “Well it’s nice to officially meet you, but Tony said I should meet him up in the lab when I get here, so I should probably go.”
“Go,” Wanda waved. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up in the next couple days.”
Peter hoped she was right, he’d been wondering if she’d be in the tower just yet. He had heard she’d been sent on a mission with Tele, Peter three, and Natasha, and he had a lot of questions for her. The occupants of the tower didn’t always notice it, but they had a tendency of telling him things he shouldn’t necessarily know. Not that Peter was complaining, but it was funny how all of their spy training and stoic personalities all softened when they were comfortable around each other.
Peter stepped into one of the elevators and pressed the twelfth floor. It smoothly rode up the line to his floor and when the doors opened, his eyes widened at the winter wonderland in front of him.
It was like he was stepping into santa’s workshop. The billionaire had strung up garland anywhere he could without making it a fire hazard, and there were so many fairy lights strung from the ceiling that the brightness replaced the glow of the regular lab lights.
Peter walked around, taking it all in.
Stockings hung from each large piece of equipment, their names listed on each of them in glitter glue that looked like Morgan had helped. The green and red iron man suit was on display in the middle of the lab, and each of the center poles in the room were wrapped to look like candy canes.
“You like it?” Tony called from the back, his voice echoing a little with all the metal in the room.
Peter spun around, trying to observe all of it in as big of a quantity as he could. “LIke it? I think Santa Claus threw up in here.”
“That better be a compliment Parker, you know I’m not afraid to flip you to the naughty list and take away your presents.” Peter laughed, hearing the teasing in his tone. It was always a challenge when he arrived in the lab to find Tony. Some days he thought the man was purposely making a game of it, but today he found him behind a few monitors with ease.
Peter looked at the screen, leaning over Tony’s desk to look at what he’d been working on. “Funny, you’re not the first person to tell me that today.”
“Well, maybe that means you deserve it,” Tony said, tweaking his ribs.
“Hey!” Peter squeaked, puberty immediately leaving his voice.
“Hey is for horses, what’s it doing in your mouth?” Tony remarked without taking his eyes off of the monitor. Peter backed up, making sure to keep his arms close to his sides.
“What’d you call me up for? What are we working on today?” he asked eagerly.
Tony spun around towards him, looking up at him. “You, my sticky friend, are not working on anything for the next five days.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter groaned. He could work on so many upgrades with all the time he was going to have in the tower. With no school, and no Aunt May, he had nothing stopping him.
Tony held his hands up. “No, I don’t want to hear a whining. I signed on to house a sixteen year old for a few days, not a five year old.”
Peter wanted to say that he was not acting like a five year old, but he feared that would only prove Tony’s point. However, he had never had such an ideal time to work, and he couldn’t give up on the idea that easily. “But I have so many new ideas for my suit.”
“Nope,” Tony said, dramatically popping the ‘p’. “You, my friend, are going to take a few days off, and so am I. There are people being put in place to keep an eye here on earth, and none of those people are you and me.”
“What was the point in decorating the lab then?” Peter asked.
Tony looked at him like the answer to his question was quite obvious, and Peter was reminded of how truly dramatic his mentor was.
Tony patted his back, getting to his feet. “Consider it me paying you back for that time I let you go to space.”
Peter furrowed his brows. “But you didn’t let me? I went without asking.”
Tony slowly turned to him. He stared at Peter for a moment before he started rapidly jabbing his hands into Peter’s midsection wherever he could manage. “Is this really a point you’d like to be arguing five days before Christmas, Parker?”
Peter boyishly giggled as he jumped out of the way. He should’ve known better than to nitpick Tony when he was telling a story. “Noho!”
Tony only followed the teenager, wrapping an arm around him and fluttering his fingers on his neck. “Are you sure?” he teased.
“Yes,” Peter laughed. He lightly pushed him away, taking care to not use too much of his strength considering Tony didn’t even have a suit on.
“Alright, spiderling, I believe you for now. So, are we clear about the rules with lab time?”
Peter couldn’t hide his disappointment, but he shook his head in agreement. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”
“Okay, just a couple other ground rules, and then I’ll let you go.” He clapped his hands together. “We just discussed number one, so you already know no lab time for the next five days, I want you to have some time off. Rule number two, no patrols either, it goes under the time off clause.” Peter groaned, but Tony continued on.
“Rule number three, you have to help Morgan, Pepper, and I wrap gifts because I bought too many gifts for everyone. Rule number four, you need to send your Aunt May an update at least once a day-” Peter started to protest, but Tony held a hand up.
“Ah-ah those are the rules I agreed to for taking you on. If you don’t follow them your Aunt will have my head and yours.”
Peter held his hands up. “I was gonna say that it shouldn’t be a problem because I've already texted her twice today, but okay.”
“Sure you were,” Tony chortled.
“I was!” Peter scoffed.
Tony pushed his reading glasses up on his head. “Well aren’t you nyc’s little golden boy.”
Peter paused, uncertain what to do with the comment. Luckily, Tony moved on from most things pretty quickly.
“Okay, rule number 5, no more calling me Mr. Stark. You are quite literally spending Christmas with me, don’t make it weird. Number six, no shenanigans?”
Peter cocked a brow, and Tony shrugged. “What qualifies as a shenanigan?”
He pointed a finger at him. “Don’t play dumb with me kid.”
Peter gawked at him. “I’m not, what does that mean?”
“Well I don’t want to give you an example, that’ll just give you ideas.”
Peter threw his hands up, and Tony’s facade cracked a little, no longer able to bite down on his smile. “I’m messing with you web slinger, you know I support mischief.”
He pointed a finger at Peter. “Just don’t tell Loki I said that.”
“You have my word, Mr. Stark.”
Tony glared at him and Peter took a preemptive step back. “Sorry, Tony. It’ll take a little getting used to.”
Tony began walking out of the lab, and Peter followed. When Tony came to a sudden stop, so did Peter. “Oh, also, you can come to the Christmas party, but you can’t drink.”
“Oh, come on,” Peter protested.
Tony sighed. “Alright, fine, you can have a singular drink.” Peter began uttering his thanks, and telling him about how responsible he will be, but Tony shushed him. “We’ll pretend we’re in Europe to ease my conscience. You have to promise me you won’t tell your aunt though.”
“I promise,” he agreed, eyes shining. He honestly hadn’t expected to be invited to the christmas party, let alone allowed to drink, and he wouldn’t do anything to make Tony regret it.
“Alright, good,” Tony patted him on the back. “Now be a proper teenager and go bother people or hide in your room, your pick.”
Peter laughed good naturedly, knowing Tony didn’t truly mean it. Or at least, he was fairly sure.
Tony snapped his fingers. “Oh, also if you could bother resident broody and the star spangled banner, that would be the best present you could give me. Truly priceless.”
Peter smiled, heading up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. “I think I can manage that.”
Tony gave him a thumbs up and they went their separate ways. Peter was surprised he hadn’t received a lecture on gift giving, specifically, on how he should have a lack of it. Last year he had gotten Tony a singular gift for the holidays, just a simple frame of the photo of the two of them, and Tony had given him a gift for ten weeks straight to prove a point. Apparently, billionaires didn’t appreciate teenagers with limited funds using their money on them.
Peter unlocked the door to his room, and jumped on top of his soft duvet. His body went limp, the mattress soaking up every bit of his exhaustion. He sighed contentedly, his eyes fluttering shut. He would just lay here for a little bit, and then he would wander around the tower and visit with everyone else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter woke up bleary eyed and still in his clothes from the day before. He rolled, trying to find where his clock was, and realized there was no more bed underneath him. His stomach lurched as his hands scrambled for purchase. He grabbed his sheets, which slowed his fall. He sighed in relief, still half delirious. He stayed there for a second, still trying to figure out what had happened when the sheets lost their hold.
He landed with a thunk and groaned in pain. Apparently, his spidey senses weren’t awake either. He wiped at his eyes, trying to make sense of everything.
He looked up at the clock on his nightstand and had to rub his eyes and read it again to make sure he was seeing correctly. Peter had woken up at nine am the next day.
He wrestled himself out of his sheets and threw them back on the bed. He cursed his teenage body mixed with a spider bite for needing so much sleep. He had probably already missed so many new arrivals while he was sleeping.
As he pulled out some clothes from his dresser, he realized there were decorations all over his room too. He must not have noticed it when he’d walked in yesterday, but someone had done up his room as well. Garland hung from each of his furniture pieces like icicles from the edge of a house, his rug had been changed out to a fluffy red and green one, and he even had some festive attire that someone had thrown in with the rest of his regular clothes.
He opted to forgo the red and green in terms of clothing for the time being. He was already likely going to be the youngest in every room, and he didn’t need everyone looking at him like a child because he was wearing an elf onesie. Besides, that would only bring more attention to him while he was trying to learn about all of the new people.
He quickly showered and threw on his clothes, absentmindedly pushed his hair back and headed out the door.
He ran down the steps at full speed towards the kitchen as his stomach growled. He couldn’t believe he’d slept so late, he’d make sure to set an alarm tomorrow. It was so stupid of him to sleep for so long.
A door clicked open in front of him, and he stopped just a few inches from where his nose would’ve collided with it.
“Little spider,” Natasha laughed, seeing him as the door shut. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
She continued walking, so Peter followed. “I accidentally fell asleep yesterday afternoon when I got home from school, and I just woke up.”
“Oh trust me, you didn’t miss much.” Natasha waved a hand. “The only person in the tower who doesn’t live here went to bed early, Steve and Bucky went on our last grocery trip till after the holidays, and Wanda made a few pie crusts.”
“I know, but-” Peter started, then stopped himself. Natasha had said he didn’t miss much, but she had been a part of this family for longer than he had. He had never spent a Christmas with the Avengers before, and it all felt so new and exciting to him. This was all old business to Natasha, she’d probably find him quite silly.
“What?” she asked, slowing down.
Peter stopped at the next landing to face her. “No, it’s probably dumb. Nevermind.”
“I’m sure it’s not dumb, come on, tell me. Or if it is dumb, then I will forget I heard anything.”
Peter’s lips twitched. “It’s just.” He sighed, but then decided he’d go for it anyway. “I’ve never been here during the holidays, and I just don’t want to miss any of it. I want to soak it all up, ya know?”
He scratched at the top of his head, but then abruptly put his hand back down, thinking the movement looked weird.
Natasha leaned against the stair railing. “Peter,” she smiled. “I was once new to this team too. I know the feeling of wanting to soak up every moment with this family. But trust me, they aren’t going anywhere, and neither are you.”
Peter smacked himself in the forehead. It had only occurred to him till after Natasha said it but it seemed obvious now. He should’ve known that she would understand. It was so silly of him to think he was the only one who had ever felt like this. Still, he knew Natasha wouldn’t take well to him opening the holiday with apologizing to her, so he moved on. “I know that, it just doesn’t feel like it.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “And that’s okay too. It took me a long time to get used to it.” She laughed. “Sometimes I think I’m still getting used to it. But remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint. You’re here for five whole days, don’t run yourself ragged trying to do everything.”
Peter blew a breath out, feeling a little less high strung. “Thanks Natasha.”
She squeezed his arm. “Anytime little spider.”
“Does that mean I can call you big spider?” Peter asked, now following her down the stairs.
She shook her head, chuckling. “I guess so. Just don’t ever say it in front of Clint, or I may have to kill you.”
“Noted.” Peter nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t certain he would ever be brave enough to call her that to her face, but he saved it away just in case he needed it.
He entered the kitchen, counting four bodies occupying the space, and all sorts of delicious smells wafting around the area.
Natasha leaned in beside him, whispering. “Like I said, pace yourself.”
She walked off, continuing down the steps, and leaving Peter in the chaos. He stood completely still for a moment, unsure of what to do. It almost seemed like they were doing some sort of dance. Pots and pans flew above heads, spoons were passed back and forth, footsteps were carefully made around each other like they had choreographed it all in advance. Peter was worried that if he stepped in, he might throw them off rhythm.
His stomach growled angrily, reminding him that while his bite also made him able to sleep longer, it also meant he needed to eat much more.
“Guys, can I cut into the kitchen to get breakfast?” Peter yelled over simmering liquids and frying meats.
Wanda was the first to turn towards him. “Oh, morning Peter. Can I grab something for you?” She looked at the chaos surrounding her with wide eyes. “I think that would be easier at this point.”
“Yes please, if you could hand me the poptarts, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Oh, do try the new chocolate flavored ones we got spiderling,” Thor said, turning around, whisk in hand. “They are quite delicious.”
“Yeah, I’ll have those if we’ve got ‘em.” Peter nodded. “Please,” he added on quickly.
Wanda flicked her fingers, and the pop tart box flew out of the cabinet. Peter was about to ask how she managed to direct her power so casually without hitting anyone, but then he realized the box was already in his hand.
“Hey, wait, we don’t just hand out food for free,” Bucky scoffed. “I thought we agreed the kitchen was a no touch zone when there were chefs in it.”
“Bucky, you’re making brownies. Calm down, you aren’t cooking up world peace,” Sam called out from the other side of the kitchen.
Bucky pointed a dirty spatula at him with such aggression that Peter let out a laugh. “That’s what you think, but for all you know, the moment you taste these all your problems could be cured.”
“Not unless your attitude disappears,” Sam guffawed.
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Wanda, are you going to let this happen?”
Wanda looked about near her breaking point. “If by this you mean letting the boy eat his breakfast, then yes I do.”
Bucky groaned, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder who the teenager in the room was. “Can we at least make him help us?”
Wanda leaned against the counter, her hands on her hips. “Peter, I am currently dealing with actual children, so would you mind helping Bucky with the brownies when you’re done eating your breakfast? Steve was supposed to help him, but now none of us know where he’s got to.”
Peter nodded, shoving a poptart in his mouth. “Of course, I don’t mind helping.”
Wanda smiled fondly at him. “Thank you.” She covered the side of her mouth like it would prevent the others from hearing her as she fake whispered. “This is why you’re my favorite.”
The others protested, but she paid them no mind as she went back to her food. Peter took a few more minutes eating his fill in pop tarts until he joined Bucky in the kitchen. The sounds of automatic whisks, squeezing bottles, and bowls clanking against one another filled his ears.
“Alright, have you ever made brownies before?” Bucky asked, quite seriously.
Peter narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, who hasn’t? They come in a box.”
Bucky rolled his eyes for the second time in five minutes. “Homemade brownies Peter. Come on, who do you think I am?”
Peter held his hands up innocently. “Wasn’t trying to take away your brownie points.”
Bucky raised a brow. “Was that a pun?”
Peter tensed. “Maybe?”
He could tell Bucky was desperately trying to bite back a smile, and Peter snickered. “Alright, well, homemade brownies are a much more highly involved process.”
“Okay, so what do we need?” Peter asked, pushing his sleeves up to wash his hands.
Bucky listed off the ingredients and Peter rummaged around the kitchen to find them. However, even after five minutes of looking in the fridge, Peter couldn’t find the eggs.
He poked his head out of the fridge. “Guys, I think we’re out of eggs.”
He looked over to see Thor grimacing. “My apologies, between my breakfast this morning, and clarifying the mead, I think I used the last of them.”
Peter brushed him off, now opening the freezer. “That’s fine, we can just use applesauce.”
“No, we cannot!” Bucky protested. “It calls for eggs.”
Sam leaned around Wanda to look at them. “Barnes, have you never heard of a substitute?”
“No, you have to do the recipe exactly as it says, otherwise it won’t turn out.”
Wanda made cuckoo signs around his head, and Bucky whipped around. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Wanda chirped, going back to whisking. She shot a wink at Peter and it took nearly all of his laughter to not burst out laughing.
Bucky threw his hands up. “What? I’m serious, you should never substitute things. It won’t turn out the same.”
Peter cocked a brow. “Didn’t you grow up during the depression?”
“Are you calling me old?” Bucky asked, his voice lilting.
Peter’s eyes went wide. “No! I mean, wouldn’t it have been common for you to have to substitute things?”
“Yes, which is why it’s not good!” Bucky nearly yelled.
Wanda stirred her soup. “My family had to substitute things all the time, and we were fine.”
Bucky crossed his arms. “And you’re telling me all of them tasted the same?”
Wanda nodded patiently. “Yes, you just have to know what you’re doing.”
Bucky crossed his arms. “Are you saying I don’t know what I’m doing?”
Wanda shrugged. “I mean, you didn’t even know that you should substitute applesauce for eggs. That’s pretty obvious, wouldn’t you agree Peter?”
Peter nodded, knowing better than to be on the opposing team of Wanda, and Tony’s earlier words playing in his mind. Bucky flicked him in the arm. “Ow,” Peter winced.
Wanda continued adding things to her soup as she spoke to Bucky. “It seems to me that this is more of a skill issue.”
Bucky sighed. “Wanda,” he said, his tone warning. Peter kept his eyes on both of them, sensing the rising tension and wondering where it would go.
“What?” she asked innocently, her eyes widened. “I think you might just be bad at baking, it’s alright, not everyone can be good at it.”
“Maximoff, I swear,” he started.
“Barnes, don’t swear in front of the kid!” she gasped, her eyes lighting up with mischief.
“Yeah!” Peter agreed indignantly.
Bucky narrowed his eyes. “He’s sixteen, he curses all the time.”
Wanda propped a hand up on her hip. “Peter, cover your ears, don’t listen to the man with the potty mouth.”
Peter followed her lead, putting his hands up on his head. “Yeah, Bucky, how dare you accuse me of such things!”
Bucky looked done with both of them. “Peter, you say shit about seventy times every time you’re in the lab.”
“How dare you! Peter would never do that!” Wanda said, looking like she was about to burst with how much laughter she was holding back.
“You know what Maximoff?” he said, his lip twitching.
She took a step closer. “What?” she asked, raising her brows. Peter backed up, having the innate sensation that one of them was going to snap and it wasn’t going to go well.
They were both perfectly still for a moment, and then Bucky struck. He grabbed her by the stomach with his metal arm, too quick for her to use her magic against him, and began scratching at her sides.
“Bucky,” she squealed, her legs kicking out at him and continually missing.
Peter did his best to fade into the shadows, suddenly forgetting his alliance. He knew how quickly the tables could turn, and how ruthless Bucky could be. Wanda hit out at his metal arm, her magic getting lost in between her laughter. “Are you going to stop giving me a hard time?” he asked.
“Nohoho,” she giggled, twitching all over the place as his fingers darted across her skin.
“Peter!” Wanda yelped. “Help me!”
Peter hesitated for a moment, but decided it would be in his best interest to keep the scarlet witch on his side.
With a quiet, “thwip!”, he webbed Bucky’s metal arm, pulling it behind his back to give Wanda an escape.
She fell to the floor in a heap of laughter, and Bucky let her go, not bothering to continue torturing her.
Peter was surprised he didn’t put up more of a fight, until he realized Bucky was slowly turning towards him.
“Wait,” Peter said, holding his hands in front of him. He had just poked a sleeping bear.
“Did you just web me?” Bucky asked, watching Peter out of the corner of his eye.
Peter could feel Thor behind him, and Sam watching the whole thing in interest now. All of his senses were suddenly alert, like he was about to go into battle. What all of his systems were currently telling him was that he needed to run, and quickly.
Without answering Bucky’s question, he leapt over the kitchen counter, sprinting towards the steps.
“Oh no you don’t, you pest,” he heard Bucky call after him.
Peter ran full force through the living room, thinking that if he could just make it to the steps and get the door shut behind him, then maybe he could make his escape.
He was a few steps away, just only a few more seconds and he would be free. His hand reached for the door, and he pushed it open. He got a foot in the door when a familiar cold arm wrapped around his middle.
“No!” Peter yelled, grabbing a hold of the door frame. He attempted to pull himself forward, but Bucky merely spidered his fingers in Peter’s armpits and he immediately lost his grip, his arms shooting down to protect himself.
Bucky threw him over his shoulder with an ease that Peter wasn’t used to.
“That’s not fair,” he protested. He tried to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms, but there was no give.
“No, what’s not fair is that you all get to act like little shits, and annoy me without any repercussions,” Bucky said, walking towards the couch.
Peter began to panic, squirming around like a bug caught in a web. He knew the moment that Bucky had him pinned he was done for.
“Bucky! Wait! We promise we won’t bother you anymore!” Peter said as a last ditch effort.
“You promise?” Bucky asked, standing directly over the couch.
“Promise.” Peter said, earnestly.
Bucky paused, beginning to set Peter down. Peter blew out a sigh of relief, then, Bucky reversed his direction and threw Peter forward onto the couch. “Too bad, I want my fun now.”
He jumped on top of him, pinning his arms above his head, and sitting on his thighs.
“Bucky, Bucky, wait!”” Peter called, nervous giggles already leaking out of him.
“Wait for what?” Bucky asked, his metal arm hovering over Peter’s stomach.
“Wanda, hELP!” Peter squealed, but was cut off as Bucky’s hand began fluttering everywhere he could reach.
“Just because you can’t bake, doesn’t mean you need to take it out on the rest of us!” Peter giggled.
“You know, I was going to take it easy on you since you just finished finals, but nevermind,” Bucky huffed. He began squeezing Peter’s ribs, softly brushing his thumb into each one.
“I take it back!” Peter wheezed, descending into frenzied cackles. It was a cruel move, targeting his ribs like that. It always sent Peter reeling, his body not knowing what to do with all of the sensations his skin was taking in, and Bucky was especially good at making him shriek.
“Oh, do you now?” Bucky teased, a terrifying smirk on his face.
“Yes!” Peter tugged at his arms in vain. It was no use, with Bucky at his full strength, and Peter weakened by his laughter, he couldn’t overpower him very easily. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.
“Wanda save me!” he yelled, deciding it was in his best interest to rely on someone else’s power.
Peter faintly heard the sound of a door clicking open and prayed it was Tony. He also had a tendency of tickling him, but at least maybe he would accidentally distract Bucky long enough that he could escape.
To his horror though, the worst possible person had shown up. “What’d he do this time, Buck?” Steve asked, sounding unsurprised.
“Be a little shit like usual,” Bucky shrugged.
Steve came out of his peripheral vision, and walked in front of him, briefly wiggling his fingers over his socked feet. “STEVE!” Peter yelled, kicking out as much as he could with Bucky’s weight on his legs.
“Wow, I always forget how ticklish you are,” Steve tutted, removing his hand.
“Not helping!”
Bucky tasered his sides with his fingers. “He’s not trying to, he’s on my side unlike you other assholes.”
“Wanda!” Peter tried again, sensing the team up that was about to happen.
Bucky looked up at Steve, not stopping his attack on Peter while he did. “Oh yeah, Steve, would you mind going to deal with the red head over there?”
“What did she do?” Steve asked as if there wasn’t a teenager dying of laughter right beside them.
Bucky gestured down towards him, and Peter’s face lit up red. Something about being destroyed by laughter while they held a casual conversation made the sensations so much worse. “Same as Peter.”
Steve nodded. “Ah, I see.” He began walking towards her, and though Peter knew it would only further nail his coffin shut, he yelled over at her.
“Wanda save yourself!”
Bucky cocked his head, momentarily pausing. “You really don’t give up do you?”
Peter shook his head. “Friendly neighborhood spiderman.” He smiled sheepishly.
Bucky positioned his hands atop Peter’s ribs. “Well spiderman, you are far too ticklish to be this risky.”
Peter shrugged, his eyes alight with mirth. “At least I can bake.”
Bucky deadpanned, his fingers wrapping around the backs of Peter’s ribcage. “Okay, now you’re just asking for it.”
Bucky attacked, and Peter immediately fell back into his laughter. Loud cackles burst from his mouth as Bucky squeezed higher up on his ribs.
“Peter, oh my god, stay still, I’m trying to count all of your ribs.”
“Nohoh!” Peter squealed, having played this game with Tony too many times.
“Well now we’re going to have to start all over again,” Bucky huffed, squeezing each rib from the bottom to the top. Peter was going berserk, having one of his worst spots targeted for so long. He briefly opened his eyes and saw Wanda being thrown on the couch next to him. Steve didn’t give her a chance to escape and went straight for her neck.
He screeched as Bucky reached the tops of his ribs again, praying he wouldn’t start the process all over again. However, it was only when he felt Bucky’s fingers climbing higher still that he began to panic.
“Bucky, don’t you dare!”
Bucky paused for a moment, and Peter heaved in deep breaths while he was still able to. “Oh.” Bucky leaned in, smirking in a way that Peter knew that no amount of pleading would convince him to move anywhere else.
“I dare,” he hissed, then jammed his fingers into Peter’s armpits. Peter didn’t make any noise for a moment. He dug his heels into the couch, trying to find the leverage to throw Bucky off of him, he twisted around from side to side, trying to dislodge Bucky’s fingers. He would almost get adjusted to one side, then Bucky would start tickling his other armpit. However, his body was only able to contain the noise so long, and he burst into a scream.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Peter panickedly squeaked.
Bucky turned towards the other couch. “See, Wanda? I told you he curses.”
Peter could just barely hear her screams of laughter above his own, but he could’ve sworn she told him to shut up.
“Now,” Bucky said, turning his attention back to him. “If we can just manage to convince you I can bake.”
Peter was writhing on the couch, his laughter beginning to make his abdomen hurt. Though, he was admittedly not fighting as hard as he could. “You can’t though!” he yelled out.
“Okay, seriously, does anything tire you out?” Bucky said, momentarily pausing his hands.
Peter shook his head, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. “You’re maybe the only person I know who’s as stubborn as that guy back there,” Bucky teased, pointing to Steve, who was currently making light work of Wanda’s giggles.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Peter smiled, heaving in air.
“It is one,” he smiled. He ruffled Peter’s hair gently, which Peter doubted he’d attempt if he wasn’t currently pinned underneath him. “However,” Bucky started, sitting upright. “Just like him, it’ll get you tickled a lot.”
Bucky released his arms, and Peter’s brows furrowed. He started to sit up, but Bucky had yet to get off of him. Without taking his weight off of him, he adjusted himself so he was still sitting on Peter’s legs, except he was facing the other way.
Suddenly, Peter’s face went white. “Wait, Bucky please no.”
“Can I bake, Parker?” he asked, without looking at him.
Peter sighed, laying back down so he could save some of his energy. “No,” he answered plainly.
“That’s what I thought,” Bucky sighed.
Bucky didn’t make Peter wait any longer for his payback and all ten of his fingers began dusting across his socked soles. Peter was sent into immediate hysterics. He gave up trying to plead with him, but he couldn’t stop his body from rolling around the couch as continual giggles poured from his mouth. Every so often he would snort if Bucky got him with a particularly good method, or if he would stray upwards to his toes, but Bucky continued until Peter got all of the laughter out of him.
However, once the tears started to prick at the corners of his eyes, he let up. “Have you learned anything today?” he asked, getting up and sitting next to him. Peter stayed laying down, catching his breath. He noticed that someone must have lit the fire because he could hear something crackling.
“Not much,” he breathed out.
“I figured.” Bucky patted his knee. “But I’m always happy to teach you again.”
Peter jumped up from the couch, nearly taking his shin out on the coffee table, and Bucky laughed. “Not now, I’m not cruel.”
Peter raised his brows. “Okay, I’m not that cruel,” Bucky deadpanned. Peter glared at him, though he knew he didn’t really mean it.
He sat back down next to him. “You deserve payback for that.”
Bucky bumped his shoulder against him. “I don’t think so, I didn’t start it.”
A red light flashed through the living room. “I would beg to disagree.”
Peter and Bucky turned to see Steve on the ground. “Peter, care to join me?” Wanda asked, grinning.
Bucky attempted to run, but all it took was one flick from Wanda’s wrist and he was on the ground.
“Sam help!” Bucky yelled. Sam started running towards him, but abruptly came to a stop.
Wanda held an orb of dark red power in her hand, eyeing him carefully.
He held his hands up, walking backwards towards the kitchen. “No, thank you.” He grabbed a hold of a bowl. “Someone’s gotta keep stirring your soup.”
Wanda smiled, her nose scrunching up.
“Care to humble some super soldiers for the holidays?” Wanda asked. She twisted her magic and Steve burst into bright giggles.
Peter always knew it was best to keep the scarlet witch on his side. “Absolutely,” he agreed.
The tower was filled with laughter for quite some time, and lots of threats were said with no real violence behind them. When all was said and done, Peter was absolutely certain he was in for a very interesting winter break with his family.
