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Patience (and Silence) is a Virtue
Summary: In his commitment to restlessness, Anakin discovers something about Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan can't let him get away with that, of course.
Anon: Hi I don't know if you're taking prompts at the moment but would you consider writing a fic where Obi wan is tickling anakin, maybe where it's during the clone wars and anakin is being restless and teasing Obi wan so he decides to put him in his place?? Or something obviously if you're not taking prompts don't worry! But if you're that would be really cute
Do not tag this as ship. Don't do it.
Anakin had a critical inability to stay still, Obi-Wan noticed. He had become calmer and more focused under his wing, sure, but he was restless to his very core. Other Jedi masters would certainly have found his fidgeting to be a nuisance, something to be expunged--Obi-Wan saw it as human. For the things theyâd seen and had to do, a little humanity was very welcome.
Except now, of course.
Anakin paced past Obi-Wan for nearly the twentieth time this hour--heâd been doing laps around the room at a speed thatâd put any trooper to shame. Obi-Wanâs attempts at meditation had given him some measure of calm, but inner peace was hard to find with your protĂ©gĂ© stomping past you every moment.
âWe are wasting time.â
âThereâs nothing to be done but wait,â Obi-Wan murmured, unwilling to release his patterned breathing.
âI canât just sit around.â Anakin switched directions, pacing the other way.
âYou are far too eager, Anakin.â Obi-Wan shifted slightly, but did not rise.
âAnd you are far too boring!â He snapped, but it held no real venom. Obi-Wan sighed deeply, dropping his head, and the relaxation promptly left his bones. He stood, brushing himself off, and Anakin watched him tensely.
âPerhaps a bit of sparring would do you some good.â Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber and beckoned him closer, already assuming a combat position. Anakin drew his, twirling it idly, and they circled each other.
For all of Anakinâs restlessness, he paid rapt attention in the field. Obi-Wan could see the gears turning in his head as they circled one another, waiting for Anakin to inevitably make the first move.
They exchanged a flurry of blows, sending blue sparks flying into the air around them. One of the strikes set Obi-Wan unexpectedly off-balance and Anakin used the opportunity to press his advantage, crowding in closer to force a surrender. Obi-Wan smirked--he could never resist playing dirty when an opportunity arose--and squeezed Anakinâs side. He yelped, lightsaber flying into the air, and Obi-Wan caught it, sheathed it, and clipped it to his belt. He tried not to look too amused at Anakinâs pinkened face.
âDo you yield?â
âNever.â Anakin smirked, rushing forward. He swung at Obi-Wan and he simply leaned to avoid it, hands tucked primly behind his back. A mistimed strike gave him an opening--he sidestepped and shoved Anakin forward and away.
âYour impatience will cost you if you arenât careful. Again.â Obi-Wan readied himself as Anakin charged. Of course, he could never make things easy, but if he moved a tad slower to let Anakin get a few hits in? Ah, whoâs to say.
Anakin locked Obi-Wanâs arm behind his back and started twisting out another forced surrender. It wouldâve worked too, if Anakinâs stance didnât leave his free hand wide open. Another lesson for another day, perhaps.
Obi-Wan reached back and grabbed at Anakinâs side, but he didnât let up this time. He felt Anakinâs forehead smack into his back and heard the faint laughter floating up, but it took quite a few stubborn seconds for Anakin to actually let go.
âExcellent work.â Obi-Wan held out the captive lightsaber. Anakin took it gratefully.
âYou absolutely cheated.â The silly smile on his face was contagious.
âI prefer calling it âalternative strategyâ. Either way, you did well.â Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder.
âThank you, Master.â
âOf course. Now, for my sanity, I implore you to clear your mind. Iâm not sure how much more pacing I can take.â Obi-Wan took a seat on the ground, and when his padawan didnât move, he patted the space next to him until Anakin followed suit.
He could sense Anakinâs mind slowing beside him, falling deeper into the tides of the Force, and the comfort of it enveloped him. Obi-Wan allowed himself to drift inwards. His spirit floated away from his physical form and deeper into his psyche, deeper into peace. Tension left him in droves. He inhaled.
The air punched out of him, though, when Anakin started poking his upper ribs. He tried not to startle so visibly, but it was a little late for that.
âAre you trying to accomplish anything in particular?â He cleared his throat. Anakin could smell weakness, he was certain of it.
âJuuust testing a theory.â Anakinâs prodding fingers marched down his ribs and his fingers twitched minutely.
âYou will not find what youâre seeking.â Obi-Wanâs voice strained against his better intentions. It took all of his strength not to move and a little more to appear calm.
âAre you sure?â Anakin reached Obi-Wanâs sides and didnât let up. He exhaled a little too hard. He couldnât allow himself even a smileâAnakin would never let him live it down.
âOf course, Iâmââ
A lone giggle shattered their dialogue.
âWoah.â Anakin beamed, slow and steady. The dangerous sparkle in his eye was about one of the only things that could make Obi-Wan nervous.
âAnakin, Iâm warning youââ He didnât get to finish. Anakinâs hands darted through the various folds and layers of his robes, seeking easier purchase, and found a delightful (read: terrible) spot around his waistline that pulled snickers from him like fresh taffy. He folded forward, falling into fuller laughter at curious scribbles upon his stomach, and Anakin gasped in wonder.
This was so alien to him, a relic of a life long gone. He found himself trying and failing to break up a cage match between his human instincts and his Jedi ones. Had what little shred of pride he had not been at stake, he wouldâve fallen over under Anakinâs absurdly nimble hands.
âThis is the best day of my life.â Anakin laughed, letting his fingers slip beneath Obi-Wanâs arms, and the subsequent bark of laughter surprised them both.
Itâs about to be your last. Though he couldnât possibly stay mad at the way Anakin was lit up. Perhaps it would be alright to let him win. Just once in a while.
Not today, though.
âI wish you hadnât done that.â He hit Anakin with a gentle pulse of the Force, enough to push him back. Anakinâs face settled into playful terror in real time and he fled, making a hopeless dash for the door. Obi-Wan watched him run--heâd gotten faster lately--before grabbing him by the belt with the Force and throwing him back across the room. He caught Anakin bodily in his arms.
âNo, waitââ
âConsider this a lesson in patience, ambition, and sensitivity. Especially the latter.â Obi-Wan locked his arms around Anakinâs waist and lifted him clear off the ground, burying his fingers into as much torso as he could. He burst into squeaky laughter, rife with voice cracks, and threw his head back, narrowly avoiding cracking open Obi-Wanâs nose.
âOh, looks like you may have a thing or two to teach me!â Obi-Wan grabbed handfuls of Anakinâs sides and he snorted around his next bout of laughter.
âObi-Wan pleahahase!â
âYou know I am not a stickler for rules, but do remember your manners. You could get in some nasty trouble.â He swept Anakinâs feet out from under him, still tickling, and lowered him to the ground, taking great care to avoid the flailing limbs.
âIâm gonna die!â Anakin fruitlessly scrabbled at Obi-Wanâs torso to get the upper hand. Obi-Wan hooked his arm around Anakinâs and pulled it up, exposing the perfect landing strip for pinching fingers.
âNonsense. Youâre so close to being free! Wiggle out from my grip thereâoh, youâve made it worse. Hm.â Obi-Wan clawed at Anakinâs stomach with two hands and an iron grip. Anakin tried to pry the evil hands away, but his strength and coordination had evacuated long ago.
He swung his legs back and forth, kicking wildly, and Obi-Wan was proud of the little momentum he had. It was a clever idea--using momentum to break free of the hold. A fruitless idea, but a clever one nonetheless. Obi-Wan crossed his arms over Anakinâs torso, burying his hands beneath his arms, and the resulting shriek had Obi-Wan chuckling.
âThis is wonderfully endearing, Anakin, but not at all effective.â On the next swing, Obi-Wan caught Anakinâs knee and wormed his fingers behind it. Anakin threw his head back and cackled wildly, all bright smiles and nose-scrunched laughter, and Obi-Wan had no qualms with admitting how much the sight lifted his spirits.
âI see the problem. Youâre laughing too hard to focus.â
âYou thihink?â Anakin squinted at him.
âI do. Try laughing less and see where that gets you.â Obi-Wan rained a hail of pinches down upon his hips and the fight was lost. Anakin made a noise like a shipâs hyperdrive starting up and flailed hardâhe caught Obi-Wan in the chest with a stray punch. An endless stream of high-pitched, hysterical giggles bubbled out of Anakin and he did his best to muffle them, but Obi-Wanâs fingers on his neck ensured that he couldnât.
âYouâre turning rather red. Is something the matter?â Gloating was unbecoming, sure, but the two of them had always done things a bit differently. Besides, this was beyond endearing. Heâd earned a little teasing.
âI give!â Anakin yelped, scrunching as much as possible. Obi-Wanâs fingers slowed.
âGood. You seemed intent on passing out.â Obi-Wan poked his stomach and Anakin snickered.
âOne day,â Anakin wheezed, âI am going to destroy you.â
âI would love to see you try.â Obi-Wan extended a hand towards Anakin, glowing with pride, and he took it.
Did Anakinâs promise send a minute shiver up his spine? Perhaps, but he was never one to turn down an entertaining fight.
#quillsandtyposreblogs#star wars#ticklish!obi wan#ticklish!anakin#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#Lee!anakin#Lee!obi-wan#ler!obi wan#ler!anakin skywalker#tickle fic#Star Wars tickle fic#tickle fanfiction
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Games Jedi Play
Afraid of losing Anakin to the darkness of his thoughts, Obi-Wan makes an effort to engage him in a harmless competition. Itâs a remarkably stupid idea when your former padawan is a known menace, but Obi-Wan isnât known for good ideas. Sequel to this fic. Do not tag this as obikin I will eat your bones đȘ
Obi-Wan had raised a menace.
Anakin was respectful and attentive when it counted, sure, but he had the narrow-minded focus of a predator. When he locked his jaws on something, he wouldnât let go. Totality was his nature. It was terrifying, how consumed he could become by his whims. Especially when that unshakeable tunnel vision was focused on publicly embarrassing Obi-Wan.
One would think that Anakinâs appointment to the Jedi Council would give him something to focus his energy on, even with his dismay at being refused an official title. Perhaps even the machinations of Grievous, who continued to evade them. But no, Anakin decided that nothing, not even the galaxyâs safety, took precedence over accosting his master.
Anakin bounded down the hallway towards him, nearly tripping over his robes. Obi-Wan raised a hand and helped him right himself with the Force.
âGood morning, Master.â Anakinâs eyes glittered with mischief. He went in for a hugâreally, heâd have to try harder than that.
âYouâre chipper today.â Obi-Wan smiled, snatching Anakinâs wrist from its wanderings near his side. He didnât even have the decency to look put out.
âAnd youâre ticklish!â Several passing people looked at them curiously. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Force, grant him patience.
âMost people are.â
âThis is a world-shaking discovery.â
âIs it?â Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow and Anakin stepped aside. He swept forward, hardly missing a stride. Anakin scrambled to follow.
âMaster, are youâŠembarrassed?â
âShould I be?â Obi-Wan kept his face impassive.
âYou seem shaken, thatâs all. Am I getting under your skin?â Anakin smirked, tilting his head. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, closed it, then walked faster. Even an ounce of encouragement of Anakinâs shenanigans was like a spark on ship fuel.
He sensed movement near the back of his neck and whirled on instinct, thus finding Anakinâs hand in his grasp for the second time in five minutes.
âYou are biting off far more than you can chew, Anakin.â Obi-Wan loosened his grip on Anakinâs wrist. It did nothing to deter his shit-eating grin.
âI love a challenge.â
Well. Now thereâs an idea.
Obi-Wan took in the sparkle in Anakinâs eye, the recently-rare smile, and immediately understood that his pride needed to take a backseat. Some levity could be good for him. For both of them, really.
âIf you did manage to coerce a defeat from meâwhich you wonâtâwhat would you like in exchange?â Obi-Wan crossed his arms.
âNo training for the week.â
Obi-Wan barked a laugh.
âNo.â
âNo training forâŠfive days.â
Obi-Wan pretended to consider it for a while, stroking his beard, and then, as deadpan as possible:
âNope.â
âThree?â
âNo.â
âOne day? Just one.â Anakin pouted.
âAbsolutely not.â
âCan we skip the evasion drill, at least?â Anakin sighed in defeat.
ââŠalright. When I win, we double the evasion drills.â Anakinâs head snapped up. Obi-Wan gave a winning smile.
âThatâs just cruel.â
âI only want you to improve.â Obi-Wan put a hand over his heart.
âNo, you like throwing things at me.â Anakin shook his head.
âThat I do. Letâs establish some ground rules.â Obi-Wan wrestled his expression back into neutrality. âNo attempts during Council meetings or in front of public figures. We must maintain some semblance of a reputation. I fear Master Winduâs opinion of you may only sour further.â
âAlright, that sounds fair.â
âYour opponent must verbally surrender in order to claim victory.â Anakin seemed to ponder this for a while, then nodded.
âExcellent. May the games begin.â
âŠâŠ
Obi-Wan should have made Anakin agree to a certain frame of time for this challenge. It seemed Anakin had finally taken to heart his lessons on patienceâthings between them were as if their wager had never existed. Obi-Wan expected deception in every embrace and handshake, but Anakin moved merrily along without another thought.
Anakin always attacked first in combat and in conversation. It was deeply unnerving to now be madeâŠ.to wait.
The war raged on and the Council required more sessions, but wariness of Anakinâs fondness for the chancellor left tasks piled on Obi-Wanâs plate. He was losing Anakin to Palpatine somehow, he could feel it, so he pushed what duties he could into the hands of capable soldiers and other Jedi. He made time where there was none, and his former padawan, wiser now and full of heart, flourished for all his efforts. It was almost like the old days.
After four weeks of normalcy, Obi-Wan made a crucial mistake. He got comfortable.
âRespectfully, Master, I know you fight far better than this.â Anakin parried his mentorâs blade with ease. He spun his lightsaber idly as they circled each other. Obi-Wan tried not to scowl.
âItâs not about winning, Anakin. Itâs about endurance.â Still, Obi-Wan upped the speed and strength of his next strikes. Their sabers sang and blue sparks careened through the training room.
âFunny you should say that.â Anakin grinned. âI agree.â
That should have been a warning. Obi-Wan did not heed it.
They danced around each other with their blades, their fervor steadily climbing with each series of blows. Obi-Wanâs forearms began to ache with the strain. He shifted to a defensive strategy, the very balance heâd been attempting to teach Anakin, but his student still bore down on him like a freight convoy.
Obi-Wan seized a gap in Anakinâs ferocious strikes and parried his saber hard enough to send it flying. He put his hand on his hip and opened his mouth to repeat a well-worn lecture on observing your enemy, but instead found the air knocked free from his chest as Anakin tackled him.
They hit the ground with the grace of a first time pilot and skidded even further. Anakinâs hands were under his arms before they stopped. Obi-Wan gasped before he could stop himself.
âYouâŠâ Obi-Wan grit out, refusing even a chuckle.
âYouâve taught me so much about endurance and patience, Master. They say the best way to learn is to teach. Is this a suitable lesson? What do you think?â Anakin had the nerve to look innocent.
Obi-Wan flung him back with a blast of Force. Anakin sailed through the air like a rag doll, tumbling ass over tea kettle but somehow skidding up into a three point landing.
âWell then. I see how it is.â Obi-Wan brushed his hair back into place.
âYou see how thoroughly Iâm going to defeat you?â
âYou forget, AnakinâŠI have known you for years.â Obi-Wan fought the smirk trying to find purchase on his face.
âSo?â
âYouâll see.â Obi-Wan sighed playfully. Then he waited.
It took less than thirty seconds for Anakin to charge him, and even less time for Obi-Wan to have him on the ground. He kicked and squirmedâhe even tried to biteâbut Obi-Wan shut all of that down with relentless squeezes to his sides. The day he let his former padawan bite him was the day he hung up his robes for good.
âI thought youâd recall the last time I taught you this lesson, but perhaps you need a refresher.â Obi-Wan kept the same even pace, the same even tone, but his lip did twitch up at the sound of Anakinâs giggly panic. He couldnât help it. Anakinâs laughter was so sweetly contagious.
Anakin reached behind him and tried to thrust Obi-Wan away with the Force, but his master grabbed hold of his belt and they both slid along the floor. Obi-Wan locked his arms around Anakinâs waist, burrowed his fingers into his stomach, and was rewarded with a glorious shriek.
âObi-Wan!â
âYes, Anakin?â
âSssssstopit.â Anakin tried to curl into a ball, but it only guided Obi-Wanâs hands further into his stomach.
âNo, I donât suppose I will.â
âDo you have anything to say to me?â Obi-Wan drawled, slowing his fingers. Anakin shook his head furiously. He puffed up his cheeks like a frog.
âThatâs a shame. Let me know when you change your mind.â Obi-Wan latched onto Anakinâs hips and the Chosen One disintegrated in his hands. Boyish laughter fell so freely from his lips that Obi-Wan was tempted to stop and take it in. Thankfully, the Jedi do not give in to temptation.
âO-Okay! IâŠâ Anakin fell into a violent bout of hiccuping giggles, clutching weakly at Obi-Wanâs hands. âI giveââ
The sound of someone clearing his throat ricocheted through the room. Obi-Wan and Anakin both froze. Senator Bail Organa waved lightly from the doorway.
âGentlemen.â Judging by the manâs crossed arms and poorly restrained smile, heâd been standing there a while.
âSenator. To what do we owe the pleasure?â Obi-Wan quickly helped Anakin up. Anakin immediately stumbled back into him. Obi-Wan snorted.
âWeâre holding council. Iâd hoped that youâd join usâŠif youâre not busy?â
âNot in the slightest. Anakin?â
âYes, of course.â Obi-Wan pinched his side and Anakin squeaked like a newborn Ewok. âOf course, Senator. My apologies.â
âNone needed. Iâll give you a moment to catch your breath.â Bailâs smirk was nearly audible, even as he turned away and strode towards the door.
âThat didnât count,â Anakin whispered furiously.
âIf the senator hadnât appeared, I wouldâve won.â
âNuh-uh,â Anakin fired back, full of tact and grace as he was. Obi-Wan squeezed his side, Anakin slapped his hand away, and they dissolved into a slapfight for the ages. Only when Bail cleared his throat again did they cease their war.
For now.
âŠ.
Obi-Wan trailed behind Yoda and Bail, trying valiantly to pretend as if he cared the least about politics. It was dreadfully important to install good leaders on critical allied planets, he knew, but he couldnât be arsed to care. People like Bail and PadmĂ© did this part so that he could charge Star Destroyers head on. He listened and he nodded and he gave his most polite smiles, but this wasnât his place.
As he followed his colleagues down the hall, a weird itch started in his stomach. He extended a bit of the Force to scratch itâJedi simply did not itchâbut that only made it worse. It multiplied until he found his entire face scrunching. He finally gave in and allowed the quickest, most restrained scratch possible.
As soon as he touched it, a flip switched in his brain. Every nerve in his stomach lit up and it tickled, so immediately and with such force that Obi-Wan stopped walking. He swore he feltâŠwere those fingers?
The feeling moved suddenly, honing in on his lower stomach. He managed to choke down his yelp into a cough, but it wasnât enough to evade attention. His colleagues stopped and turned to regard him curiously. He would have given a good defenseâreally, he would haveâbut then he spotted Anakin strolling towards him in the hallway.
âYou.â Obi-Wan leveled a threatening finger at Anakin. It didnât help him look less unhinged, but it did make him feel slightly better.
âMaster Yoda. Senator.â Anakin locked eyes with Obi-Wan and there it was again, that burst of Force that made his nervous system attempt to implode.
âHello Master. Itâs good to see you.â
Obi-Wan managed to bite his fist and remain silent. Barely. Still, he couldnât help but tap his boot on the floorâthe echo of which was highly incriminating.
âMaster, are you alright?â Anakin blinked innocently, but Obi-Wan could see his minute smirk.
âJust fine, thank you.â Obi-Wan grit his teeth.
âAlright. Iâll see you all later.â Anakin jogged away, his robes swishing behind him. Bail fixed Obi-Wan with such a painfully knowing look that it actually hurt.
âMaster Yoda. Senator. If youâll excuse me.â Obi-Wan smiled primly, took a few steps back, and took off after Anakin. He leapt up onto the wall and ran as far as he could, flipped over the head of a visiting viceroy, and skidded around the corner after his protĂ©gĂ©.
âAnakin!â He bellowed, and was rewarded with a giddy cackle and fleeing footsteps at the end of the hallway.
âŠ..
An evening summons from royalty was hardly ever good. Despite PadmĂ©âs attempts to deformalize their relationship, Obi-Wan still felt the cold fingers of dread whenever she sent for him.
âYour majesty? You wished to see me?â Obi-Wan stepped gently onto PadmĂ©âs terrace. She beckoned him forward with a smile. The sunset painted the side of her face, which didnât hold an ounce of worry despite the urgency of her summons. He gestured for her to sit, hoping sheâd forgive the impoliteness for his concern over her pregnancy.
âI did.â PadmĂ©âs gaze flickered past him for a moment.
âWhat seems to be the matter?â He put his hands on his hips.
âSorry, but I canât say no to him,â she winced with a smile. Obi-Wan stopped to ponder her meaning, then was struck by a heavy flying weight. He and his assailant landed bodily on the couch, scrabbling for leverage like two cats in a sack. His saber was in his hand before he mercifully recognized the blond mop above him.
âWhâAnakin?â
âHello there.â Anakin grinned, then immediately and unceremoniously started trying to tickle Obi-Wan. He yelped and tried to roll away, sending his saber clattering heavily from his hand.
âI thought we agreed on no important f-figures!â Obi-Wan fought off Anakinâs hands as best as he could, but he was starting to crack.
âOh, PadmĂ©? She doesnât count.â He glanced at her over his shoulder.
âIâm not an important figure?â She teased with a grin.
âYouâre incredibly important.â Anakin said suddenly, dripping with sincerity. Obi-Wanâs gaze darted between the two of them. PadmĂ© caught his eye and stood quickly.
Interesting.
âYou boys have fun. Try not to kill each otherâŠor my furniture.â She hurried into her bedroom with a sweep of fabric. Anakin wistfully watched her go. Yearning shone openly on his face. Theyâd need to have a conversation about this later, but for nowâŠ.
Obi-Wan seized the opening, reaching up for Anakinâs sides, but Anakin batted his hands away with the Force without lifting a finger. Obi-Wanâs hands slammed down on the couch on their own.
âItâs over, master. I have the high ground.â Anakin plunged his fingers into Obi-Wanâs stomach and he, regrettably, guffawed. Anakinâs eyes lit up at the sound and he chased it, pushing past layers and layers of robes with ease.
Obi-Wanâs dignity crumbled quicker than the dry biscuits served at Senate meetings. He strained against Anakin, but his lower stomach was really quite terrible. Without his hands, his only options were to drum his heels into the couch and laugh. He tried to hide his face in his sleeve and Anakin cooed at him, which was absolutely unacceptable on so many fronts that Obi-Wan finally managed to bolt upright.
Anakin shoved his hands under Obi-Wanâs arms and he instantly became aware of every nerve in his bodyâmost importantly the ones Anakin was trying to pluck like guitar strings. Ticklish fireworks ignited down his ribs and he collapsed back on the couch with a yelp.
The Force. Certainly creative and infuriatingly effective, but fortunately for him, it was easily combated. He reached out with his mind and grabbed Anakinâs tendril of Force like a writhing snake, holding it at mental-armâs length from his sparkling nervous system. He couldnât fight this battle on two fronts, though, and his resolve was already parchment-thin. If his brain hadnât been sparking like a decommed ship, he mightâve been proud of Anakinâs precision.
âI donât think Iâve ever seen you like this. I didnât think you knew how to laugh.â Anakin beamed. Obi-Wan rolled over and Anakin easily followed, poking all up and down his exposed side from ribs to hip. Obi-Wan yanked a leg out from under Anakin and planted a boot on his chest. He managed to keep the little devil far enough away to start worming his other leg free. He was staring down the barrel of victory when Anakin reached up and grabbed his knee.
Obi-Wan made a noise that would have alarmed and offended a Wookie. The terrace fell so silent that Obi-Wan could hear the engines of X-Wings down at street level.
âOh nononono. No. Anakin, donât you even think aboutââ
The smile that spread across Anakinâs face convinced Obi-Wan that evil was indeed alive and well in the hearts of man. Obi-Wan tried to throw himself over the back of the couch, but Anakin yanked him back.
Anakin figured out to squeeze the back of his thigh, just above the knee, and Obi-Wanâs long and stupid life flashed before his eyes. He hadnât been tickled like this inâŠever, maybe? Any manner of composure was long lost to him nowâAnakin had started experimenting with his calf and he was steadily cackling now. He thought back to his hubris all those weeks ago.
Perhaps handing Anakin the key to his destruction wasnât his best idea.
Anakin started trying to work off one of Obi-Wanâs boots and that was absolutely where he drew the line. He made to throw himself off the couch again, but he caught a glimpse of PadmĂ© hovering nearby.
Padmé turned and gestured at her back, contorting her wrist to scratch at her shoulderblade. She made very meaningful eye contact with him, then gestured to Anakin.
What�
Oh.
Obi-Wan shoved his hands under the back of Anakinâs tabard and the man screamed. He fell boneless on top of Obi-Wan, cackling into his shoulder. Obi-Wan had no hope of containing his grin.
âAll these years Iâve known you and you didnât think to share this information?â Obi-Wan sat up, pulling Anakin into a strange ragdoll-like hug. Anakin beat uselessly at Obi-Wanâs chest, but a snort fell from him and he changed tacticsâhe valiantly tried to disappear into thin air. No Jedi had mastered it yet, but he seemed intent on being the first.
Obi-Wan honed in on where Anakinâs ribs met his armpit, enchanted by the screech it pulled from him. Anakin had a good sense of humor, but Obi-Wan hardly ever got more than a chuckle and an eye roll from himâall of which had everything to do with Anakin, and nothing to do with the quality of his jokes. It was endearing beyond words to have a single spot that completely unraveled him.
âCareful. You might give someone the impression that youâre ticklish.â Obi-Wan fully deserved the anguished, furious wail from the pile of Jedi before him. He still laughed brightly at it.
âAlright. I think weâve caused enough carnage. Truce?â Obi-Wan stood and offered his hand to shake. Anakin stared at him for a moment, still shaking with residual giggles. Anakin took his hand. Obi-Wan helped him up and clapped his shoulder, but when Anakin tried to pull away, Obi-Wan wouldnât let him.
âThe dark side will use many tricks to sway you, Anakin. Chief among them, the promise of peace.â Obi-Wan smirked, and turned the same trick that Anakin had used against him. He sent a focused burst of Force towards Anakin and he collapsed into Obi-Wanâs shoulder, overcome with snickers. Even with years of training on him, Obi-Wan wasnât as talented as Anakin. He had to keep a hand planted on his former padawanâs shoulder to maintain the effect, but it was more than worth it.
âThe dark side of the Force isnât funny. Master Windu would be disappointed.â Obi-Wan shook his head. With how Anakin had fallen into him, it did look as if something had tickled him in the comedic senseâexcept for Anakin punching him in the shoulder, of course.
âLook at how the dark sideâs corrupted you! Assaulting your master. A shame to watch you stray from the light.â Obi-Wan couldnât stop the chuckles that bubbled out of himâAnakinâs face was priceless. He was fighting so hard to glare, bless him, but he simply couldnât stop giggling long enough to make it stick. It was as if the little Anakins in his brain that controlled those vicious instincts had fled the helm.
Obi-Wan started poking Anakinâs stomach where he could reach, and his protĂ©gĂ©âs laughter spiked infectiously. He fell into a cycle of hiccupy laughter and hid his face in his leather gloves.
âAlright! Stop. You wihihin.â
âGood lad.â Obi-Wan gave his shoulder a squeeze and it mysteriously, hilariously, summoned another bout of giggles.
âIâll see you bright and early tomorrow for evasion drills!â Obi-Wan singsonged, strolling towards the terrace entrance.
âI hate you!â Anakin shouted after him, but his voice splintered into laughter before the venom could stick. Obi-Wan didnât need the force to know it was PadmĂ©âs doing.
#quillsandtyposreblogs#star wars#anakin skywalker#ticklish!anakin#ticklish!obi-wan#obi wan kenobi#Lee! anakin skywalker#Lee!obi-wan#ler!anakin skywalker#ler!obi-wan#tickle fic#tickle fanfiction#obi-wan/anakin skywalker#this is SO cute!!
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#dude libraries fuckin rule#they are so unbelievably important#especially in times like these#quillsandtyposreblogs
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Well now that weâre all here, I feel thereâs one more secret I have to share with you- I did not care for thunderbolts
#quillsandtypostalks#thunderbolts#thunderbolts spoilers#marvel really thought they could talk about mental health when they havenât learned how to write depth in their characters yet#they wanted it to be found family except there was no actual sense of the family they just had the characters say they were family#these bitches knew each other for like two days??#why was Bucky in the hug lol? he barely knows these people#I heard someone joke that âthe villain was depression and the hero was hugs#the dialogue was so unnatural#they didnât give us a chance to even get attached so any emotional moments were like âare we supposed to care??#they made ANOTHER completely op character who will eventually become a problem#the humor got old SO quick#by the fourth joke about Bobs name I knew we were cooked#as a bucky Stan he shouldnât have been in this movie as he served next to no point#the mental health rep was honestly so out of touch#I predicted everything in this movie it was incredibly predictable#it completely lacked in any subtly or nuance#they would announce everything they were going to do via dialogue#they were talking about how theyâre all bad people then we cut to an INDIVIDUAL SHOT OF EACH OF THEM SAVING A KID ONE BY ONEâŠ.subtle marvel#itâs so upsetting#cause this movie had so much potential#but like USUAL marvel just couldnât deliver#okay rant over
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JJ the writer that you are
Bucky and queen song
Waving Your Banner
This drabble is part of JJâs Mixtape - a mini series based on my followersâ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!
Song Prompt: We Will Rock You - Queen
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (flirtatious, no pronouns used)
Word Count: ~1300
CW: swearing, some flirting, suggestive jokes, a bit of tickling
minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a flirtatious/suggestive interaction 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: Thanks, anon! My initial note-to-self from when you first sent this was, verbatim, "okay but dodgeball would be fucken hilarious with we will rock you" - so we've gone with an Avengers training game vibe with this one
The woods hummed with tension, broken by the occasional crack of a branch or the muffled thud of boots. The Avengers had turned what shouldâve been a simple training game into an all-out war, and your team was desperate to gain the upper hand. Somewhere ahead, in the shadow of the tree-line, stood the final obstacle: Bucky Barnes, silent, brooding, and lethal, guarding his teamâs flag, the White Wolf circling his den.
You crouched beside Sam behind a cluster of bushes, your pulse steady but sharp as you surveyed the terrain. Bucky was right where you expected him, leaning casually against a tree just outside the flag's perimeter. He looked calm, detached even, but you knew better. The slightest flicker of movement would set him in motion, and if he was after you, thereâd be no escaping. Flag perimeters were a no-fly-zone, so you and Sam would have to take it on foot.
âAlright,â Sam said, breaking the silence. âWe need a plan. And by we, I mean you, because Iâm not getting anywhere near the Winter Soldier.â
You shot him an incredulous look. âYouâre faster than me.â
âHeâs a wall. A brick wall with trust issues and superhuman reflexes.â
You sighed, pressing your back against the thick trunk of a tree. âThen we need a distraction. Something thatâll actually make him move.â
Sam raised a brow. âOh, yeah? Whatâs your genius plan?â
âYou,â you said, giving him a pointed look. âYou could bait him. Taunt him. Goad him into leaving his post.â
âAnd get steamrolled by the murder machine? Hard pass.â He scoffed. "Besides, youâre obviously better bait.â
The heat rushed to your face immediately. âExcuse me?â
âOh, come on,â Sam teased, his grin widening. âYouâve got that whole⊠thing going on.â
âWhat thing?â
He waved a hand vaguely at you. âYou know. The whole âbadass with a secret soft sideâ thing. Heâll eat it up. Hell, I think the whole teamâs noticed the way he looks at you.â
You glared at him. âYouâre out of your damn mind.â
âHe does,â Sam interrupted, revelling in your reaction. âCome on, you could probably get him to do whatever you wanted. Just say something like, âOh, Bucky, is that a vibranium arm or are you just happy to see m-â
You shoved him into the bush.
Sam tried to silence his little grunts as he pulled himself out, yanking the twigs from his armour plates. âFine. You wanna argue about this all day, or should we win?â
You sighed, rolling your eyes. âJust send in Redwing.â
âWhatever you say, boss.â
The plan was simple enough: Redwing would create a distraction in a bush behind Bucky, luring him away from the flag, giving you and Sam time to move in and grab it. You moved carefully, keeping low as you crept through the underbrush. The tension in the air was electric, every rustle of leaves amplified by your own awareness of how close Bucky was.
But, true to form, Sam couldnât resist screwing with you.
As you crept closer to the clearing, Redwing darted toward you and made a ruckus in the bush partially shielding you from view. It was more than enough to give you away, and before you could even curse Samâs name, you heard it - the unmistakable sound of boots crunching leaves, closing in fast.
Your head whipped around just in time to see Bucky moving toward you with the kind of speed that made your heart stutter. His expression was sharp, predatory, and - gods help you - just a little amused.
âShit,â you muttered, bolting from your hiding spot.
âRunning wonât help you,â Bucky called after you, his voice dark and smooth, laced with amusement.
You didnât bother responding, too focused on dodging tree trunks and low-hanging branches. But it didnât matter how fast you ran; he was faster. In seconds, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you clean off your feet.
âGotcha,â he murmured, his voice low in your ear.
âNot yet, you donât,â you growled, twisting sharply in his grip.
You elbowed him in the side, breaking free for a split second, but he was faster. He blocked your next move, his vibranium hand catching your wrist and spinning you around. You didnât go down without a fight, aiming a kick at his shin and struggling against his hold, refusing to make it easy for him.
âFeisty,â he muttered, almost admiringly, his grip tightening as you wrestled.
You managed to get one arm free, landing a half-decent shove against his chest. He staggered back slightly but recovered in less than an instant, his smirk returning, sharper than before.
âAlright,â he said, his voice edged with amusement, âyou wanna play rough? Letâs play rough.â
Before you could react, he was on you, trapping you between his body and the wide trunk of a tree. His fingers darted to your ribs, pressing against your sides with infuriating precision.
You jolted, a startled laugh bursting out before you could stop it. âWhat the fu- hey! No, thatâs cheating!â
âCheating?â he echoed, his grin widening as he tickled you again, this time catching your waist. âYouâre the one trying to fight dirty.â
You squirmed, trying to slap his hands away, but the tickling was relentless, and your traitorous laughter left you weak, your arms useless.
âNo! I- dammit, Barnes!â
Seizing the moment, he stepped back, grabbed both your wrists and yanked you against him, hauling you effortlessly over his shoulder. You kicked your legs in protest, but his grip was unyielding, his hand steady against the backs of your thighs.
âPut me down!â you demanded, pounding your fists against his unfairly muscled back.
âNot until youâre in jail,â he said, his voice low and smooth, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you.
âThis is cruel and unusual punishment,â you grumbled, your cheeks burning as you felt his arm tighten around your thighs.
He chuckled, the sound warm and agonising. âUnusual, maybe. But Iâd say youâre enjoying it.â
âBarnes!â you snapped, squirming harder.
His laughter deepened, and he carried you with an ease that was both infuriating and maddeningly attractive. When he finally stopped, he set you down just outside the jail, his hands lingering at your waist.
âLet me go,â you said, though the bite in your tone had softened.
He stepped closer, his body a looming presence as his eyes bore into yours. âSay please.â
You scowled, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
âDidnât think so,â he said, his smirk widening as he stepped forward, forcing you to step back - straight into the jailâs boundary.
You glared at him, your chest heaving as he stood just inches away, his gaze dark and intent. âHappy now?â
âNot yet,â he murmured, his voice a low rasp, âbut close.â
Before you could fire back, Samâs triumphant whoop echoed through the trees. You turned just in time to see him flying above your team's base with Bucky's team's flag, waving it over his head like a trophy.
Bucky groaned, his head falling back briefly before he levelled a sharp glare at you. âDistraction,â he muttered under his breath with a shake of his head, the word practically dripping with accusation.
Your lips curved into a coy smile despite yourself.
âYouâre too damn good at it,â he said, his tone darker now, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned and stalked off.
Flushed, you called after him. "This isn't over, Barnes!"
He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, turning to face you as he walked backwards towards his next mission. "Not by a long shot."
#ticklish!reader#marvel fanfiction#marvel tickle fluff#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fic#bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky fanfic#quillsandtyposreblogs
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A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman
Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.
Let's start with the first visual we get:
UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic.
Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:
THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.
This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.
Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.
The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more.
THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do.
The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."
TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.
STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...
DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.
NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.
SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.
ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...
"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.
So what does Kendrick say?
IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.
40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.
THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.
NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes.
TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!
GAME OVER â could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, AmericaâŠ
In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
#quillsandtyposreblogs#I will be thinking about this for at least the next week#Kendrick Lamar the performer you are
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kendrick lamar the political storyteller you are. so sorry everyone will only focus on the drake of it all. i see u princess. your mind.
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The Light of Laughter
Words: 7.7 k
Pairings: none, this is a platonic/familial fic
Characters: Lee!Peter, Ler!Tony, Ler!Bucky, Lee!Wanda, Ler!Steve,
Warnings: a lot of tickling and some older brother/mentor tickling so if thatâs not your thing please feel free to sit this one out
Authorâs note: This is a squealing Santa fic for the lovely @inneedofsupervision Iâm 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.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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.
âYou donât have to wait for me, ya know?â Ned said, roughly shoving his stuff in his folders.
Peterâs brows furrowed. He took one look at the mess on Nedâs desk and started helping him pack his things up. âYes, I do. Iâm the reason we got separated in this class, and we always walk out together.â
Ned brushed off his help, but continued shoving things away. âAww thanks Peter.â He picked up a notebook paper that had floated down to the floor somehow. âYou'd make such a good girlfriend,â 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. âWas that what you meant to say?â
Ned finally dethawed, going back to the task at hand. âWeâre not acknowledging it.â
Peter chortled, fighting back a comment about the blush on his face. âYes we are.â
Ned pointed a finger at him. âNot if you still want your christmas present.â
Peter mimicked zipping his lips, not wanting to risk losing his gift. He didnât 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 Nedâs papers away, which was less of putting papers in folders, and mostly a lot of shoving. Peter didnât even know how he managed to collect this many papers in the first place.
âYou arenât going to be able to find any of your papers when we come back from break,â Peter remarked, picking up a broken folder that was nearly split in half with all the papers inside of it.
Ned shrugged. âIâll just throw out anything I donât need when January comes.â
âThen get a new folder for the semester so you can break it by summer?â 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 wasnât afraid to bargain his way back into Nedâs good graces.
âExactly,â Ned nodded. âSee, Iâm glad you get it.â
Peter rolled his eyes.
âBy Mr. Smith!â Peter called, waving to his teacher as they walked out the door.
âBye boys, stay safe over break. Donât do anything I wouldnât do!â 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.
âMy gift?â Peter asked, once they were outside and away from the entrance.
âI want mine first,â Ned said.
Peter cocked his head at him, a coy smile playing at his lips. âHowâd you know I bought you one?â
Ned deadpanned. âOh come on Peter, we do the same thing every year. We give each other gifts on the last day of school before break.â
Peter dropped the act. âFine.â
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 heâd missed a spot, and he hoped he didnât notice.
Luckily, Ned tore it open as fast as he always did, barely noticing the wrapping before he immediately threw it away.
âDo you know what it is?â Peter asked, as Ned continued staring at it without saying anything.
Nedâs brows furrowed. âI donât think so.â
Peter tapped on the clear box. âItâs a Palladium core I encased in resin.â
Nedâs eyes went wide. âNo, itâs not-â he trailed off, but Peter nodded.
âLook at the front of it.â
Ned flipped it around and gasped, holding a hand to his mouth. âYou got it signed by him?â
Peter smiled. âYup. This is one of the ones that was inside him,â Peter stopped, holding up a finger. âWait, not like that.â
Ned grabbed him by the shoulders. âWho cares! Peter! This is the best gift ever!â
Peter grinned even wider as his friend shook him rather aggressively, the zippers on his backpack clanging with the movement. It really hadnât 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, âkids these daysâ then scoffed and walked off, leaving Peter with the core.
Ned stopped shaking him, a frown overtaking his face. âAww, but all I got you was legos.â
Peterâs face lit up at the mention. âNo, are you kidding me? Iâm about to get a bunch of sciency stuff from the avengers, all I want are some legos.â
âAlright, fine,â Ned groaned, handing him a bright gift bag.
Peter took it and ripped all of the tissue paper out of the bag. âYes!â he cheered. âAll I needed was the hulk to complete my set.â
Ned raised a brow. âDo the avengers ever find it weird that you collect lego figurines of them?â
Peter felt his cheeks warm. âI wouldnât know, Iâve never told them.â
âHeard,â Ned nodded.
âAlright, see you in a few days?â Ned asked, bumping his fist against his.
Peter finished the handshake. âYep, Iâll see you then.â
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 didnât 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 heâd 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 heâd offered him up a solution on a silver platter.
Apparently, as long as he was staying with the Earthâs mightiest heroes, May was willing to let him stay in New York without her. Heâd still had to assure her a dozen times that he would be fine with her leaving him on christmas, but theyâd managed to pull it off. Just before school that day, sheâd left for the airport with her bags. Sheâd 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.
Heâd heard rumors of Tony Starkâs infamous Christmas parties, and had been fighting the urge to ask him if heâd 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. Heâd already met so many of his heroes, and now he had the potential to interact with even more.Heâd tried to tease it out of Tony, but heâd only held a finger to his lips and told him heâd 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 otherâs.
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 didnât recognize.
âOh, hi Peter!â Wanda called. âThe otherâs are upstairs in various places.â
âOh, thanks for letting me in,â 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. âOh, I almost forgot, Spider-man this is Tele, Tele this Spider-man.â Wanda turned back to Tele. âOr I guess I should specify, this is our world's Spider-man. God, thatâs going to get difficult when everyone gets here.â
At Wandaâs words, Peterâs memory came flooding back to him. âOhhh, your Peter threeâs friend.â
They nodded. âWell itâs 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.â
âGo,â Wanda waved. âWeâll have plenty of time to catch up in the next couple days.â
Peter hoped she was right, heâd been wondering if sheâd be in the tower just yet. He had heard sheâd 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 didnât always notice it, but they had a tendency of telling him things he shouldnât 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 santaâs 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.
âYou like it?â 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. âLIke it? I think Santa Claus threw up in here.â
âThat better be a compliment Parker, you know Iâm not afraid to flip you to the naughty list and take away your presents.â 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 Tonyâs desk to look at what heâd been working on. âFunny, youâre not the first person to tell me that today.â
âWell, maybe that means you deserve it,â Tony said, tweaking his ribs.
âHey!â Peter squeaked, puberty immediately leaving his voice.
âHey is for horses, whatâs it doing in your mouth?â Tony remarked without taking his eyes off of the monitor. Peter backed up, making sure to keep his arms close to his sides.
âWhatâd you call me up for? What are we working on today?â he asked eagerly.
Tony spun around towards him, looking up at him. âYou, my sticky friend, are not working on anything for the next five days.â
âMr. Stark,â 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. âNo, I donât want to hear a whining. I signed on to house a sixteen year old for a few days, not a five year old.â
Peter wanted to say that he was not acting like a five year old, but he feared that would only prove Tonyâs point. However, he had never had such an ideal time to work, and he couldnât give up on the idea that easily. âBut I have so many new ideas for my suit.â
âNope,â Tony said, dramatically popping the âpâ. âYou, 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.â
âWhat was the point in decorating the lab then?â 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. âConsider it me paying you back for that time I let you go to space.â
Peter furrowed his brows. âBut you didnât let me? I went without asking.â
Tony slowly turned to him. He stared at Peter for a moment before he started rapidly jabbing his hands into Peterâs midsection wherever he could manage. âIs this really a point youâd like to be arguing five days before Christmas, Parker?â
Peter boyishly giggled as he jumped out of the way. He shouldâve known better than to nitpick Tony when he was telling a story. âNoho!â
Tony only followed the teenager, wrapping an arm around him and fluttering his fingers on his neck. âAre you sure?â he teased.
âYes,â Peter laughed. He lightly pushed him away, taking care to not use too much of his strength considering Tony didnât even have a suit on.
âAlright, spiderling, I believe you for now. So, are we clear about the rules with lab time?â
Peter couldnât hide his disappointment, but he shook his head in agreement. âYes, Mr. Stark.â
âOkay, just a couple other ground rules, and then Iâll let you go.â He clapped his hands together. âWe 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.â Peter groaned, but Tony continued on.
âRule 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-â Peter started to protest, but Tony held a hand up.
âAh-ah those are the rules I agreed to for taking you on. If you donât follow them your Aunt will have my head and yours.â
Peter held his hands up. âI was gonna say that it shouldnât be a problem because I've already texted her twice today, but okay.â
âSure you were,â Tony chortled.
âI was!â Peter scoffed.
Tony pushed his reading glasses up on his head. âWell arenât you nycâs little golden boy.â
Peter paused, uncertain what to do with the comment. Luckily, Tony moved on from most things pretty quickly.
âOkay, rule number 5, no more calling me Mr. Stark. You are quite literally spending Christmas with me, donât make it weird. Number six, no shenanigans?â
Peter cocked a brow, and Tony shrugged. âWhat qualifies as a shenanigan?â
He pointed a finger at him. âDonât play dumb with me kid.â
Peter gawked at him. âIâm not, what does that mean?â
âWell I donât want to give you an example, thatâll just give you ideas.â
Peter threw his hands up, and Tonyâs facade cracked a little, no longer able to bite down on his smile. âIâm messing with you web slinger, you know I support mischief.â
He pointed a finger at Peter. âJust donât tell Loki I said that.â
âYou have my word, Mr. Stark.â
Tony glared at him and Peter took a preemptive step back. âSorry, Tony. Itâll take a little getting used to.â
Tony began walking out of the lab, and Peter followed. When Tony came to a sudden stop, so did Peter. âOh, also, you can come to the Christmas party, but you canât drink.â
âOh, come on,â Peter protested.
Tony sighed. âAlright, fine, you can have a singular drink.â Peter began uttering his thanks, and telling him about how responsible he will be, but Tony shushed him. âWeâll pretend weâre in Europe to ease my conscience. You have to promise me you wonât tell your aunt though.â
âI promise,â he agreed, eyes shining. He honestly hadnât expected to be invited to the christmas party, let alone allowed to drink, and he wouldnât do anything to make Tony regret it.
âAlright, good,â Tony patted him on the back. âNow be a proper teenager and go bother people or hide in your room, your pick.â
Peter laughed good naturedly, knowing Tony didnât truly mean it. Or at least, he was fairly sure.
Tony snapped his fingers. âOh, also if you could bother resident broody and the star spangled banner, that would be the best present you could give me. Truly priceless.â
Peter smiled, heading up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. âI think I can manage that.â
Tony gave him a thumbs up and they went their separate ways. Peter was surprised he hadnât 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 didnât 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 werenât 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 heâd 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 didnât 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 couldnât believe heâd slept so late, heâd 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 wouldâve collided with it.
âLittle spider,â Natasha laughed, seeing him as the door shut. âWhy are you in such a hurry?â
She continued walking, so Peter followed. âI accidentally fell asleep yesterday afternoon when I got home from school, and I just woke up.â
âOh trust me, you didnât miss much.â Natasha waved a hand. âThe only person in the tower who doesnât 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.â
âI know, but-â Peter started, then stopped himself. Natasha had said he didnât 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, sheâd probably find him quite silly.
âWhat?â she asked, slowing down.
Peter stopped at the next landing to face her. âNo, itâs probably dumb. Nevermind.â
âIâm sure itâs not dumb, come on, tell me. Or if it is dumb, then I will forget I heard anything.â
Peterâs lips twitched. âItâs just.â He sighed, but then decided heâd go for it anyway. âIâve never been here during the holidays, and I just donât want to miss any of it. I want to soak it all up, ya know?â
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. âPeter,â she smiled. âI 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 arenât going anywhere, and neither are you.â
Peter smacked himself in the forehead. It had only occurred to him till after Natasha said it but it seemed obvious now. He shouldâve 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 wouldnât take well to him opening the holiday with apologizing to her, so he moved on. âI know that, it just doesnât feel like it.â
She placed a hand on his shoulder. âAnd thatâs okay too. It took me a long time to get used to it.â She laughed. âSometimes I think Iâm still getting used to it. But remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint. Youâre here for five whole days, donât run yourself ragged trying to do everything.â
Peter blew a breath out, feeling a little less high strung. âThanks Natasha.â
She squeezed his arm. âAnytime little spider.â
âDoes that mean I can call you big spider?â Peter asked, now following her down the stairs.
She shook her head, chuckling. âI guess so. Just donât ever say it in front of Clint, or I may have to kill you.â
âNoted.â Peter nodded even though she wasnât looking at him. He wasnât 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. âLike I said, pace yourself.â
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.
âGuys, can I cut into the kitchen to get breakfast?â Peter yelled over simmering liquids and frying meats.
Wanda was the first to turn towards him. âOh, morning Peter. Can I grab something for you?â She looked at the chaos surrounding her with wide eyes. âI think that would be easier at this point.â
âYes please, if you could hand me the poptarts, Iâll get out of your hair.â
âOh, do try the new chocolate flavored ones we got spiderling,â Thor said, turning around, whisk in hand. âThey are quite delicious.â
âYeah, Iâll have those if weâve got âem.â Peter nodded. âPlease,â 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.
âHey, wait, we donât just hand out food for free,â Bucky scoffed. âI thought we agreed the kitchen was a no touch zone when there were chefs in it.â
âBucky, youâre making brownies. Calm down, you arenât cooking up world peace,â 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. âThatâs what you think, but for all you know, the moment you taste these all your problems could be cured.â
âNot unless your attitude disappears,â Sam guffawed.
Bucky rolled his eyes. âSeriously, Wanda, are you going to let this happen?â
Wanda looked about near her breaking point. âIf by this you mean letting the boy eat his breakfast, then yes I do.â
Bucky groaned, and Peter couldnât help but wonder who the teenager in the room was. âCan we at least make him help us?â
Wanda leaned against the counter, her hands on her hips. âPeter, I am currently dealing with actual children, so would you mind helping Bucky with the brownies when youâre done eating your breakfast? Steve was supposed to help him, but now none of us know where heâs got to.â
Peter nodded, shoving a poptart in his mouth. âOf course, I donât mind helping.â
Wanda smiled fondly at him. âThank you.â She covered the side of her mouth like it would prevent the others from hearing her as she fake whispered. âThis is why youâre my favorite.â
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.
âAlright, have you ever made brownies before?â Bucky asked, quite seriously.
Peter narrowed his eyes. âYeah, who hasnât? They come in a box.â
Bucky rolled his eyes for the second time in five minutes. âHomemade brownies Peter. Come on, who do you think I am?â
Peter held his hands up innocently. âWasnât trying to take away your brownie points.â
Bucky raised a brow. âWas that a pun?â
Peter tensed. âMaybe?â
He could tell Bucky was desperately trying to bite back a smile, and Peter snickered. âAlright, well, homemade brownies are a much more highly involved process.â
âOkay, so what do we need?â 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 couldnât find the eggs.
He poked his head out of the fridge. âGuys, I think weâre out of eggs.â
He looked over to see Thor grimacing. âMy apologies, between my breakfast this morning, and clarifying the mead, I think I used the last of them.â
Peter brushed him off, now opening the freezer. âThatâs fine, we can just use applesauce.â
âNo, we cannot!â Bucky protested. âIt calls for eggs.â
Sam leaned around Wanda to look at them. âBarnes, have you never heard of a substitute?â
âNo, you have to do the recipe exactly as it says, otherwise it wonât turn out.â
Wanda made cuckoo signs around his head, and Bucky whipped around. âWhat was that?â
âNothing,â 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. âWhat? Iâm serious, you should never substitute things. It wonât turn out the same.â
Peter cocked a brow. âDidnât you grow up during the depression?â
âAre you calling me old?â Bucky asked, his voice lilting.
Peterâs eyes went wide. âNo! I mean, wouldnât it have been common for you to have to substitute things?â
âYes, which is why itâs not good!â Bucky nearly yelled.
Wanda stirred her soup. âMy family had to substitute things all the time, and we were fine.â
Bucky crossed his arms. âAnd youâre telling me all of them tasted the same?â
Wanda nodded patiently. âYes, you just have to know what youâre doing.â
Bucky crossed his arms. âAre you saying I donât know what Iâm doing?â
Wanda shrugged. âI mean, you didnât even know that you should substitute applesauce for eggs. Thatâs pretty obvious, wouldnât you agree Peter?â
Peter nodded, knowing better than to be on the opposing team of Wanda, and Tonyâs earlier words playing in his mind. Bucky flicked him in the arm. âOw,â Peter winced.
Wanda continued adding things to her soup as she spoke to Bucky. âIt seems to me that this is more of a skill issue.â
Bucky sighed. âWanda,â he said, his tone warning. Peter kept his eyes on both of them, sensing the rising tension and wondering where it would go.
âWhat?â she asked innocently, her eyes widened. âI think you might just be bad at baking, itâs alright, not everyone can be good at it.â
âMaximoff, I swear,â he started.
âBarnes, donât swear in front of the kid!â she gasped, her eyes lighting up with mischief.
âYeah!â Peter agreed indignantly.
Bucky narrowed his eyes. âHeâs sixteen, he curses all the time.â
Wanda propped a hand up on her hip. âPeter, cover your ears, donât listen to the man with the potty mouth.â
Peter followed her lead, putting his hands up on his head. âYeah, Bucky, how dare you accuse me of such things!â
Bucky looked done with both of them. âPeter, you say shit about seventy times every time youâre in the lab.â
âHow dare you! Peter would never do that!â Wanda said, looking like she was about to burst with how much laughter she was holding back.
âYou know what Maximoff?â he said, his lip twitching.
She took a step closer. âWhat?â she asked, raising her brows. Peter backed up, having the innate sensation that one of them was going to snap and it wasnât 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.
âBucky,â 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. âAre you going to stop giving me a hard time?â he asked.
âNohoho,â she giggled, twitching all over the place as his fingers darted across her skin.
âPeter!â Wanda yelped. âHelp me!â
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, âthwip!â, he webbed Buckyâs 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 didnât put up more of a fight, until he realized Bucky was slowly turning towards him.
âWait,â Peter said, holding his hands in front of him. He had just poked a sleeping bear.
âDid you just web me?â 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 Buckyâs question, he leapt over the kitchen counter, sprinting towards the steps.
âOh no you donât, you pest,â 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.
âNo!â Peter yelled, grabbing a hold of the door frame. He attempted to pull himself forward, but Bucky merely spidered his fingers in Peterâs 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 wasnât used to.
âThatâs not fair,â he protested. He tried to wiggle out of Buckyâs arms, but there was no give.
âNo, whatâs not fair is that you all get to act like little shits, and annoy me without any repercussions,â 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.
âBucky! Wait! We promise we wonât bother you anymore!â Peter said as a last ditch effort.
âYou promise?â Bucky asked, standing directly over the couch.
âPromise.â 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. âToo bad, I want my fun now.â
He jumped on top of him, pinning his arms above his head, and sitting on his thighs.
âBucky, Bucky, wait!ââ Peter called, nervous giggles already leaking out of him.
âWait for what?â Bucky asked, his metal arm hovering over Peterâs stomach.
âWanda, hELP!â Peter squealed, but was cut off as Buckyâs hand began fluttering everywhere he could reach.
âJust because you canât bake, doesnât mean you need to take it out on the rest of us!â Peter giggled.
âYou know, I was going to take it easy on you since you just finished finals, but nevermind,â Bucky huffed. He began squeezing Peterâs ribs, softly brushing his thumb into each one.
âI take it back!â 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.
âOh, do you now?â Bucky teased, a terrifying smirk on his face.
âYes!â Peter tugged at his arms in vain. It was no use, with Bucky at his full strength, and Peter weakened by his laughter, he couldnât overpower him very easily. Still, that didnât mean he wasnât going to try.
âWanda save me!â he yelled, deciding it was in his best interest to rely on someone elseâs 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. âWhatâd he do this time, Buck?â Steve asked, sounding unsurprised.
âBe a little shit like usual,â Bucky shrugged.
Steve came out of his peripheral vision, and walked in front of him, briefly wiggling his fingers over his socked feet. âSTEVE!â Peter yelled, kicking out as much as he could with Buckyâs weight on his legs.
âWow, I always forget how ticklish you are,â Steve tutted, removing his hand.
âNot helping!â
Bucky tasered his sides with his fingers. âHeâs not trying to, heâs on my side unlike you other assholes.â
âWanda!â 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. âOh yeah, Steve, would you mind going to deal with the red head over there?â
âWhat did she do?â Steve asked as if there wasnât a teenager dying of laughter right beside them.
Bucky gestured down towards him, and Peterâs face lit up red. Something about being destroyed by laughter while they held a casual conversation made the sensations so much worse. âSame as Peter.â
Steve nodded. âAh, I see.â He began walking towards her, and though Peter knew it would only further nail his coffin shut, he yelled over at her.
âWanda save yourself!â
Bucky cocked his head, momentarily pausing. âYou really donât give up do you?â
Peter shook his head. âFriendly neighborhood spiderman.â He smiled sheepishly.
Bucky positioned his hands atop Peterâs ribs. âWell spiderman, you are far too ticklish to be this risky.â
Peter shrugged, his eyes alight with mirth. âAt least I can bake.â
Bucky deadpanned, his fingers wrapping around the backs of Peterâs ribcage. âOkay, now youâre just asking for it.â
Bucky attacked, and Peter immediately fell back into his laughter. Loud cackles burst from his mouth as Bucky squeezed higher up on his ribs.
âPeter, oh my god, stay still, Iâm trying to count all of your ribs.â
âNohoh!â Peter squealed, having played this game with Tony too many times.
âWell now weâre going to have to start all over again,â 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 didnât 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 wouldnât start the process all over again. However, it was only when he felt Buckyâs fingers climbing higher still that he began to panic.
âBucky, donât you dare!â
Bucky paused for a moment, and Peter heaved in deep breaths while he was still able to. âOh.â Bucky leaned in, smirking in a way that Peter knew that no amount of pleading would convince him to move anywhere else.
âI dare,â he hissed, then jammed his fingers into Peterâs armpits. Peter didnât 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 Buckyâs 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.
âShit, shit, shit!â Peter panickedly squeaked.
Bucky turned towards the other couch. âSee, Wanda? I told you he curses.â
Peter could just barely hear her screams of laughter above his own, but he couldâve sworn she told him to shut up.
âNow,â Bucky said, turning his attention back to him. âIf we can just manage to convince you I can bake.â
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. âYou canât though!â he yelled out.
âOkay, seriously, does anything tire you out?â Bucky said, momentarily pausing his hands.
Peter shook his head, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. âYouâre maybe the only person I know whoâs as stubborn as that guy back there,â Bucky teased, pointing to Steve, who was currently making light work of Wandaâs giggles.
âIâll take that as a compliment,â Peter smiled, heaving in air.
âIt is one,â he smiled. He ruffled Peterâs hair gently, which Peter doubted heâd attempt if he wasnât currently pinned underneath him. âHowever,â Bucky started, sitting upright. âJust like him, itâll get you tickled a lot.â
Bucky released his arms, and Peterâs 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 Peterâs legs, except he was facing the other way.
Suddenly, Peterâs face went white. âWait, Bucky please no.â
âCan I bake, Parker?â he asked, without looking at him.
Peter sighed, laying back down so he could save some of his energy. âNo,â he answered plainly.
âThatâs what I thought,â Bucky sighed.
Bucky didnât 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 couldnât 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. âHave you learned anything today?â 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.
âNot much,â he breathed out.
âI figured.â Bucky patted his knee. âBut Iâm always happy to teach you again.â
Peter jumped up from the couch, nearly taking his shin out on the coffee table, and Bucky laughed. âNot now, Iâm not cruel.â
Peter raised his brows. âOkay, Iâm not that cruel,â Bucky deadpanned. Peter glared at him, though he knew he didnât really mean it.
He sat back down next to him. âYou deserve payback for that.â
Bucky bumped his shoulder against him. âI donât think so, I didnât start it.â
A red light flashed through the living room. âI would beg to disagree.â
Peter and Bucky turned to see Steve on the ground. âPeter, care to join me?â Wanda asked, grinning.
Bucky attempted to run, but all it took was one flick from Wandaâs wrist and he was on the ground.
âSam help!â 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. âNo, thank you.â He grabbed a hold of a bowl. âSomeoneâs gotta keep stirring your soup.â
Wanda smiled, her nose scrunching up.
âCare to humble some super soldiers for the holidays?â 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. âAbsolutely,â 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.
Taglist: @tenaciousperfectionunknown @teti-menchon0604 @tell-me-when-ur-ready
#quillsandtyposwrites#q&t marvel#marvel tickle fic#marvel tickle#marvel#lee!peter#Ler!bucky#ler!steve#Lee!wanda#ler!tony#marvel tickle fluff#bucky fluff#peter parker fluff#marvel tickle fanfiction#marvel tickle fanfics#tickle fanfic#ss2k24#squealing santa 2k24
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Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.
Poc arenât look for activism in fic, we know fandom isnât that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.
Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say âskin warmedâ instead of blushed, say âcradled your headâ instead of running fingers through hair, say âangles yourself to kissâ instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of âyou didnât understand Spanishâ things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!
And for anything you canât/donât want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!
And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasnât common to label the gender of the reader. But those who arenât female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now itâs common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And Iâm a writer myself so I know it can be done!
We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldnât have to imagine weâre a white one.
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like i'm sorry but we as a fandom have to stay firm on our anti-AI values. we cannot suddenly start giving AI a pass when it's something we "want to see" like destiel kisses. it's not suddenly fine. we're not going to start using AI to make fanfic scenes come to life or audio AI to make characters "say" stuff we want to hear. you have GOT to be firm on your anti-AI stance. if you start making exceptions then suddenly anything will fly. fandom is for real art and creations made by real people. no AI fanfics. no AI art. no AI rendered "bonus" scenes. no AI audio. none of it has a place here.
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a whole bunch of gazan mutual aid projects and nonprofits. if the decision of which individual fundraiser to give to feels too daunting, or if you just want to help as many people as possible in one go, these are great initiatives to support.
care for gaza - focuses on providing food and essential supplies. donate here or here.
connecting humanity - securing internet access via donations of virtual sim cards (esims). if you can't afford a whole plan yourself, crips for esims is a communal pool that will use your donation to purchase and maintain esims
gaza soup kitchen - provides food, medical care, and classes for children. also has a gofundme
glia gaza medical support initiative - provides medical care through field clinics and tents at hospitals. donations can also be sent through their website.
ele elna elak - provides clean water, food, clothing, and shelter. they also have a gofundme
life for gaza - raising money for the gaza municipality to repair water and waste management infrastructure
taawon - partners with local civil organizations to provide food, water, medical care, shelter, and basic supplies
the sameer project - running various initiatives providing tents, medical care, and necessities. they have their own encampment project focused on sheltering families with children, sick and disabled members, or members in need of perinatal care
islamic relief worldwide's gaza emergency appeal - provides food, water, hygiene kits, medical supplies, and psychological support
baitulmaal - provides a variety of necessities, including food, water, shelter, and medical supplies
gaza mutual aid fund - distributes food, hygiene products, water, and other essential supplies, including financial support. run by @/el-shab-hussein's amazing friend Mona. updates can be found on her instagram.
hygiene kits for gaza - provides hygiene supplies including menstrual products, wipes, and toothbrushes/toothpaste
anera - provides a variety of necessities, including food, water, hygiene supplies, medicine, blankets and mattresses, and psychological care
palestine children's relief fund - provides supplies and support with a focus on children. also has an initiative for lebanon
dahnoun mutual aid - provides water, food, tents, baby supplies, financial support, and other necessities. updates can be found through their instagram
certainly this is not an exhaustive list, so please feel free to add on other projects or organizations that i didn't include. and as always, please take the time to donate if you can and share. it truly makes all the difference.
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I have come up with a better metaphor than âyou canât pour from an empty cupâ for burnout. You canât boil an empty kettle. Pouring from an empty cup just gets you nowhere. Trying to boil an empty kettle can ruin the kettle, the stove, and burn down your house if you keep trying it.
#quillsandtyposreblogs#this metaphor hits#if you donât schedule machine maintenance the machine will schedule it for you
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Registration closes tomorrow incase anyone was thinking about it!!
Calling All Magic Makers for the 9th Annual Squealing Santa Event!
Hello Hello Wonderful People!
I'm Crow ( @cantsaythetword ) and I'm super excited to host Squealing Santa this year! I've participated in 4 SS events previously, but this is my first year hosting so I can't wait to carry on Hypah's excellent work and make this year an awesome time for all involved!
Here's all the important dates to keep in mind for this years event!
Click Here for Squealing Santa 2024 Event Registration
(coming soon) Click Here for Squealing Santa 2024 Fandom Registration
Some General Rules for Participation:
To receive a gift, you must create one too
Your gift needs to align with the requested prompts/fandoms
Post your gift during December
Make sure to give your gift a title, and @ the giftee and the event blog ( @squealing-santa )
Have your DMs / Asks open for communication with the event host ( @cantsaythetword )
If you want more specific rules / guidelines, check out this post
Good luck!
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#When your friend suddenly reappears, then proceeds to drop an absolute masterpiece
Desperate Measures
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Word count: 5703
Content / warnings: swearing, a lot of sexual tension, steamy kissing, suggestive humour, tickle fic, implied sex
minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.
note: hello! I've come out of the woodwork to drop this random fic, thinking some of you may enjoy some wild sexual tension, teasing, and ruthless ler!loki I felt randomly compelled to write. I can't make any good-faith promises regarding future writing, so I'll just share this for now. All the love <3
The air in the gym was still and heavy, the only sound breaking the silence was the steady rhythm of your fists connecting with the punching bag. You were alone, intentionally so, using the late hour to work through a restless energy that had been gnawing at you for days.
Well, months, really.
There had been something about the Compound lately, something about him that made it hard to focus, hard to sleep.
The leather of the bag thudded under your punches, each strike sharp and measured as you practiced your form. But as effective as the session was at releasing some pent-up tension, you couldnât ignore the nagging realisation that it wasnât quite enough. And you didn't know what would be.
Then you heard him - felt him, really, before he spoke. Lokiâs presence always announced itself in a subtle way. A shift in the air, a sense of something electric.
The low, velvety voice followed, as if materialising from the shadows. âThis hardly seems like a fair fight.â
You froze for the briefest second, your fist still mid-air, before lowering your arm and turning to face him. There he stood, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed casually over his chest. He looked entirely too composed for someone who had just caught you off guard, but that was Lokiâs way. His dark hair framed his sharp features, and his eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief. âRather a waste of energy, fighting something that wonât hit back.â A pause, an assessment, a tilt of his head in challenge. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Your pulse quickens, though youâd never let it show. With Loki, youâd learned to keep your guard up. His constant presence, the lingering stares, the flirtatious banter - you still couldn't tell if it was all fun and games to him, or... if he actually...
âIâm practicing my form,â you replied, trying to keep your tone steady despite the warmth that was starting to spread up your neck.
He smirked, tilting his head as he regarded you with a dark glint in his eye. âIf itâs form youâre after, perhaps a real opponent would better suit your needs. Iâd be happy to assist.â The words hung in the air between you, their weight heavy with invitation.
You hesitated, your heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. Sparring with Loki? Not smart. The man - the god - was unpredictable, dangerous. You werenât an idiot; in the field, youâd leave threats like Loki to the bigger guns like Steve, or Thor. But here, in the controlled environment of the gym, with no weapons and only the hum of underlying tension between you two, it felt different.
Risky in a way that had nothing to do with physical harm.
Still, you felt a thrill shoot through you at the thought. Something about his attention always made you feel alive, a little reckless.
You wiped the sweat from your brow and tilted your head. âNot sure this is a smart idea, Loki. I usually leave the big threats to the super soldiers and gods.â
His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. âYouâll do just fine.â His tone was smooth, almost coaxing, as if youâd already agreed.
You rolled your eyes, turning toward the mats, feeling his presence at your back as he followed you. You were trying your best to seem unaffected, but his proximity set your skin alight.
Every step toward the sunken sparring area in the centre of the gym felt like a countdown. When you stepped down the couple of stairs onto the mats, you turned to face him, only to find him much closer than you expected. His height, the way he loomed just slightly, was intoxicating. He was so unfairly beautiful. And he knew it.
You gave him a look, a mix of challenge and uncertainty, trying to hide how affected you were. But Loki noticed everything. His eyes flicked briefly to your lips before settling back on your gaze.
âSo what now?â you asked, your voice coming out a bit more breathless than you intended.
âNow,â Loki began, circling you slowly, his movements graceful, predatory, âwe see what youâre truly made of.â
You squared your shoulders, keeping your stance neutral, trying to maintain your focus. But the energy between you felt charged, almost too much to ignore. Loki was testing you, as he always did - pushing buttons, seeing how far he could go before your unaffected facade slipped. You werenât about to give him the satisfaction of showing how much he got under your skin. But, deep down, you knew that you weren't fooling him.
After one revolution around your body, he stopped in front of you, that smirk still playing on his lips. You didnât wait for him to make the first move. You lunged forward, aiming a strike toward his midsection, but he dodged it easily, too fast, too graceful. He didnât retaliate. Not yet. He was baiting you, letting you come to him. Typical.
Your next punch was aimed higher, toward his chest, but he caught your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, but not painful, his skin cool against yours. He raised an eyebrow, almost amused.
âYouâll have to do better than that,â he murmured.
You twisted out of his hold, stepping back to reassess. Your heart was racing, not just from the sparring, but from the feel of him, his hand, his eyes locked on yours like a predator toying with its prey. There was something dangerous in the way he moved, something inherently sensual in the way his body seemed to flow, effortless yet lethal.
You tried again, going low this time, aiming a sweeping kick toward his legs. He sidestepped, but not fast enough. You caught him just enough to throw him slightly off balance, and his smile widened. You could've sworn a gleam of admiration flickered in his eyes.
âNot bad,â he said, before moving on you.
Suddenly, he was in your pocket, faster than you anticipated, and before you could block, he had you pinned. One arm locked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the other catching your wrist, holding it firmly above your head. He hooked one leg around yours and controlled the descent of your bodies. Your back hit the mats with a soft thud, him directly above you, and you gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. Not fully from the impact, more from the overwhelming sensation of his body pressing against yours.
For a moment, everything stilled. You were trapped beneath him, and he was so close, his breath warm against your neck, his body hovering over yours, just a breath away from full contact. The weight of him, the way he held you so effortlessly, sent a rush of heat through you.
Lokiâs eyes bored into yours, dark and intense, and there was no mistaking the shift in the air. The playfulness was still there, but underneath it was something deeper, something charged with heat and anticipation.
âStill think this was a bad idea?â His voice was a low purr, his lips dangerously close.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldnât find the words. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it in lazy circles, a deliberate tease. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped beneath his touch, trying not to wonder if he could hear it. Feel it.
He lowered his brow, âYou clearly havenât been trained by anyone outside of Midgard.â
His words pricked at your pride, and you glared up at him, breathless, as you tried to wrench your wrist free. âOf course not,â you retorted, a bit sharper than youâd intended. âNot all of us have had the privilege of an intergalactic education.â
His expression softened for just a heartbeat, a glimmer of something that might've almost be concern, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a look of pragmatism. âThat wonât do,â he said simply, releasing you, pulling you to your feet with an ease of strength that made your heart stutter.
âThere are⊠larger threats than youâve known. You need to understand how they fight.â His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Or you won't stand a chance."
You swallowed thickly, the implication heavy between you, and found yourself unable to look away, captivated by the intensity in his eyes, the subtle promise that lingered just beneath his calm disposition.
In his own strange way, he was offering to train you.
In that moment, it felt like the tension, the unspoken attraction that had been building between you over the months, was ready to snap. The rational part of you is screaming that this was dangerous, that whatever this was, it was a risk you shouldnât take; putting yourself in the situation to be in constant close quarters with someone who already set you on a steep edge could only end in a heart-wrenching longing.
But as you met Lokiâs gaze, defiance and something far more potent flared within you, and you couldn't deny the pull.
âShow me, then,â you whispered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded furiously in your chest.
He smirked, a dark satisfaction flickering across his face as he stepped closer still. âVery well,â he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. âBut donât say I didnât warn you.â
The gym was empty, as it usually was this time of night, save for the low hum of your breathing and the solid thud of your body against the mats, the result of another frustrating sparring session with Loki.
It had been weeks of this. A rhythm thatâd somehow become normal, sparring sessions where you were pushed to your limits and left feeling exhausted but invigorated.
Lokiâs method of training was relentless, unforgiving, and unlike anything youâve ever experienced. The techniques he taught you - sharp, brutal movements, counters that defy human logic - had already sharpened your skills in ways you couldnât have imagined.
He was maddening and insufferable, with his mocking commentary and easy confidence, but he had made you better.
You would flush to admit how much you looked forward to the few sessions each week. Because though you had trained with all kinds of opponents, none of them compared to the dark, infuriating figure currently pinning you to the ground.
He loomed above you, his body pressed just enough against yours to keep you in place, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin making the friction of his hold electric. You were breathless, chest rising and falling as you stared up at him, face inches from his as he flashed that knowing grin.
Unfortunately, this had become a very normal position to find yourself in. Loki never let you win, and never let you up without an admission of defeat, saying allowing such things would only breed complacence.
âReady to surrender, darling?â His voice was dark silk, the smugness woven through every syllable. His eyes traveled over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips as you caught your breath. âAgain? What are we, zero-and-thirty?â
The mix of arrogance and barely-contained amusement in his expression made your irritation bubble over.
"Go to hell."
"Charming," he replied, arching a brow. "By all means, keep on with your futile attempts to escape," he shrugged with indifference, further stoking your frustration. "I do so enjoy this part."
Your jaw ticked. You were tired, flustered, not any more used to his proximity even after weeks of this. You thought you'd be desensitised to his flirting, his touch... him, but, if anything, it was all pulling you closer to the edge of desperation.
And desperate times call for desperate measures.
At least, that's what you told yourself. In reality, you weren't thinking. You couldn't have been thinking, given that no one in your position would've considered such a foolish move.
In a final, desperate move, a slapdash attempt to get him off of you without having to surrender, your fingers darted to his sides, pressing into his ribs in a way that might, with any luck, give him a taste of his own teasing medicine.
But the instant your fingers touched him, and he merely flinched once, you knew you'd made a careless mistake, and a devastating one at that.
This was something you could never take back.
He stilled, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips. His gaze slowly shifted down to where your hands rested on his torso, and when he looked back up, the mischievous gleam in his eyes turned predatory.
âOh?" His voice dropping to a dangerously low, delicious murmur, âYouâve just made an exceptionally poor choice.â
Your stomach dropped, and a tsunami of regret hitting you instantly. âWait. Loki, I didnât-â
âYou want to play, hmm?â His smirk only widened as he leaned in, his grip tightening. âHow delightful. Do carry on.â
âPlease, I'm sorry,â you gasped, trying to push at his chest, already breathless. âI wasn't thinking- Loki, please!â You could feel your cheeks growing warm, laughter bubbling up as he held you firm. "I'm sorry!"
âShh,â he crooned, his smirk deepening. âNo need to waste your precious breath.â
"Oh no, please, not this," you laughed despite your wincing, pushing harder at his shoulders. It did nothing.
âBegging already?â His fingers found your sides, pinning them as his thumbs pressed firmly into the sensitive skin above your hips. âYou might regret that even more, darling.â
Before you could protest, his fingers began to move, an unrelenting, devastating rhythm that sent a jolt of sensation through your body. Your attempts to fight it crumbled instantly as laughter spilled from your lips, your hands still trying, and failing, to push his away.
âLoki! N-no-â you gasped between giggles, squirming beneath him as his fingers worked with merciless precision. He watched you with keen fascination, clearly enjoying the effects of his touch on you far too much. His thumbs traced slow, calculated circles against your ribs, each movement skilled and targeted, attuning his touch at a terrifying speed. Learning how to deliver a masterful torture, designed just for you.
âOh, I think yes,â he replied, his voice a teasing purr. âAnd to think, all it takes to make you crumble is a little tickling. How... adorably human.â His words were as wicked as his touch, his fingers finding every sensitive spot along your ribs, raking over your skin with a tormenting ease.
Your laughter only grew, helpless and unbidden, your body writhing beneath him as you tried to twist away from his relentless fingers. But the press of his body against yours, the heat of his breath, and the smirk on his lips were driving you to the edge in more ways than one.
âYou know,â he continued, one hand slipping higher along your ribs, while the other skated down your side in search of a new vulnerable spot, âyou really should have thought this through.â He watched as you struggled to speak, your protests dissolving into helpless laughter as pinched the soft spot above your hip in a steady rhythm. âBut I suppose thinking things through isnât exactly your strong suit, is it?â
Another fit of giggles burst from you, the words âShut up- Loki, I swear-â managing to slip through the laughter before his searching hand found an especially sensitive spot just above your knee. Your leg jerked, and you could barely contain the yelp that escaped you.
âOh, now that's a good spot, isn't it?â he mused, his smirk widening as he kept his fingers there, watching with satisfaction as you writhed in his grip. His thumb and middle finger cratered into your skin, moving in small, unrelenting circles against the muscle, each pass drawing a louder, more desperate laugh from you.
Every time your laughter began to steady, Loki would adjust, finding fresh angles to torment that same spot, leaving you gasping and breathless, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The sound of his satisfied chuckle only made the entire ordeal more maddening, his smirk widening with every helpless laugh he drew from you.
The muscles of your core ached, already weakened from the near hour of sparring you'd endured before this ordeal, and your desperation mounted as you realised just how completely you were at his mercy.
âPoor thing,â he murmured, his voice mockingly sympathetic. âAll those threats you make, all those fighting words... yet-"
The door to the gym opened suddenly, and two figures stepped inside. Loki didnât miss a beat, glancing up to find Steve and Bucky standing there, their faces caught between surprise and amusement at the scene before them. Loki merely grinned, unperturbed, as though they were expected guests.
âAh, gentlemen, so kind of you to join us.â His fingers didn't stop, not even for a moment. Your breath hitched between laughs. âSheâs been begging for mercy. Tell me, donât you train your people to withstand a bit of torture?â
âSteve!â you gasped, trying and failing to sit up as Lokiâs fingers dug into your ribs with a terrifying precision. The hand at your knee gave a quick pulse and you shrieked, giving a violent kick of your leg that somehow dislodged his hand. âBucky- help!â
The two men exchanged a look, an unmistakable smirk crossing their faces as they watched you squirm beneath Lokiâs touch, now at both of your sides.
Steve folded his arms, tilting his head as if considering your plea. âSeems like you've bitten off more than you can chew,â he said, lips quirking up in amusement.
âYou're gonna have to get yourself out of this one,â Bucky added with smirk.
"Please!" You squeaked when Loki wrapped his hands around your hips once more, squeezing and pressing as you plead through helpless giggles. "I-I'll do anything- just- j-just help me, please!"
âAnything?â Loki murmurs, his voice low and smooth as he leans down, stilling his hands just long enough for you to catch your breath. âMy, my, this sounds like quite the liability. Is this all it takes to break you?â His fingers latched onto both of your knees with renewed vigour, eliciting a shriek and then a fresh burst of laughter.
You were too far gone to respond, tears gathering in your eyes as you twisted under his touch, utterly powerless to escape. His words, his steady, relentless taunts, were maddening, each one sinking in deeper as his fingers found every vulnerable place that left you laughing helplessly beneath him.
Your cheeks burned as you tried to wriggle away from his fingers, laughter turning desperate as his hands traced the sensitive muscles along your thighs. âL-Loki, pleaseââ
Loki casted a glance at Steve and Bucky, his voice dropping to a lower, more mocking tone. âHer training is sorely lacking. She's reckless, susceptibleâŠ" he looked back down to you with a sly grin, "and seems to lack any sense of risk analysis. Taking me on, indeed.â
You were incredulous - as much as you could be in your position - and you tried to protest, tried to tell them that it was Lokiâs idea to spar in the first place, but the words wonât come. Lokiâs hands had you too helpless, laughter spilling from your lips as he smirked down at you with an expression of pure satisfaction.
Bucky shrugged, grinning as he watched your futile struggle. âMaybe we need to work on conditioning that out of her.â
âOh, no,â Loki interjected smoothly, slipping his hands to the juncture of your hips and thighs, sending you arching off the mat, squeals of laughter tearing from your throat. "I rather like her this way."
Desperation drove you to try to reach for Steve or Bucky, your arm outstretched in a silent plea for mercy.
You should have learned your lesson about desperate moves.
Loki saw the opportunity in your attempt, and with a smooth, precise move, he twisted you onto your stomach, pinning your outstretched wrist to the mat as he settled over you, his other hand slipping to your lower ribs to press into a spot he'd already memorised, one that made you shriek.
âReally, darling,â he whispered darkly, his voice rich with satisfaction, âyour judgment is appallingly poor, isnât it?â His fingers glided higher, hitting a spot on your upper ribs that made your laughter turn silent, breath hitching as you struggled under him.
âYou handed me this opening,â he tutted, his taunting words making you burn hotter. âWhat happens next is your fault.â His fingers found the sensitive spot beneath your arm, drawing out a fresh wave of laughter as your body arched, your feet scrabbling for traction as you slapped your free hand against the mat.
Hard laughter barrelled out of you, your head falling to the mat as you squeezed your eyes shut, succumbing to the sensations he was pulling from your nerves.
Surrender washed over you, cool and easy, as you felt your muscles go limp beneath him, nothing in your mind but the feeling of his body, his hands, the force of your laughter, and the pure, unadulterated fun he was having with you. And it was fun, you realised. In a way that people like you usually didn't indulge in.
Bucky tapped Steve on the arm and jerked his chin towards the door behind them. "Seem like you have this under control," he smirked at you. You looked up to glare but only caught their knowing glance, the one of friends and not of Avengers. The one that said, we know exactly what's going on here.
It made you flush almost as much as the unrelenting torture.
Almost as soon as they left you, Loki's tickling hand pulled away. You gulped greedy breaths in as he turned your sagging body with ease, settling you on your back as he hovered over you, eyes roaming the product of his work.
"I trust you've learned your lesson." His voice was a low rumble that sent heat pooling to your belly. All you could do was nod. "Next time you dare to pull a stunt like that," he started, leaning in so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, "I won't be so gentle."
Heat bloomed over your cheeks, to the tips of your ears, the space between you charged, crackling with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.
You couldn't look away, your breath catching as his gaze lingered on your lips.
His own parted, as though he was on the verge of closing the distance...
He flinched.
Pulled back. Pulled away.
Your brow lowered in concern, but before you could ask what was wrong, he stood.
"Until next time."
He looked down at you, his eyes lingering with a promise that made your pulse pound, before he turned and strode out of the gym, leaving you sprawled on the mat, breathless, wanting, and hopelessly, maddeningly confused.
It was late that same night when you finally worked up the nerve to confront him.
You moved through the silent halls of the Compound, each step echoing in the darkened corridors as you slipped past the shadows pooling in doorways. Uncertainty crept up your spine, and you almost turned back more than once, only to grit your teeth and push forward. There were too many things left unsaid, too much tension thickening the air between you and Loki, and it gnawed at you now, refusing to let you retreat.
Before you could decide on a way to begin, his door opened. He stood there, almost as if heâd sensed you coming, his expression a mix of curiosity and that ever-present amusement.
âIt's rather late for a visit,â he said, his tone low, his words quiet and full of question.
You met his gaze. âCouldn't sleep,â you replied, massaging the back of your neck with one hand.
His lips twitched with something darker, though his tone remained light. âAnd you thought I could help?â
Silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you wondered if this was a mistake.
"I thought you might be able to, considering it's your fault."
His face softened at the strain in your tone, and he stepped aside in a silent invitation for you to enter.
Swallowing hard, you stepped forward, pressing past him and into his room. He shut the door behind you, and the world seemed to fall away, the dimness settling around you, cocooning you both in a place of shadow and warmth.
"Go on then," Loki urged as you two stood near the lounge set in his room. A couple of armchairs and a matching couch, cast in the soft glow of several lamps and a dying fire in the hearth.
You drew a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak. âI know what you are, Loki,â you began, feeling your voice tremble with both fear and resolve. âMischief is part of your very nature, and I don't mind fun and games like- like earlier," you flushed thinking about it, catching the smirk forming on his features as he watched you fumble.
You gathered your courage and stared him straight-on. "But not with my feelings. All this- this flirting, and touching, and closeness... it's not a game to me. So if it doesn't mean anything to you, I'd rather it stop."
Lokiâs eyes narrowed slightly, the smugness vanishing, replaced by something harder, sharper. He let the words hang between you, a silence stretching before he repeated them in a voice almost too soft to hear. âIf it doesn't mean anything to me,â he murmured, a subtle, dangerous edge to his tone. "You think this- that you are simply a game? Another amusement of no consequence?"
You swallowed, willing yourself to continue. âTodayâŠâ Your voice broke slightly, and you pushed the words out. âIn the gym, we were so close. I thought...â Heat flooded your cheeks, but you forced yourself on, the confession slipping free. âFor the dozenth time, I thought you were finally going to kiss me. But I just left wondering if I'm a fool with some silly schoolgirl crush, way in over my head." The admission left you raw and breathless, your heart pounding.
He exhaled, the smallest hint of a rueful smile ghosting over his lips. "You were trapped beneath me. Pinned, helpless,â he said, as though it explained everything. âI could never take that liberty with you while you were at my mercy.â His gaze grew darker still, something haunted flickering in his eyes. âIâd never forgive myself if I gave in to such an impulse. I'd never stop wondering if you had truly wanted it."
"But I did want-"
"And what if you hadn't?"
His words were a balm and a brand, his unwavering gaze rooting you to the spot.
"I had to know it was real. Not something forced or coerced, something... taken from you when you were too breathless to say no. I had to know for sure that it was what you desired."
For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, the weight of his reverence filling the space between you.
âIt is,â you managed, each word trembling with the strength of your resolve. âI want this. I want you. I canât stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. I donât want to ignore it anymore.â You swallowed, breathless.
A beat passed, and something changed in his face - a tension releasing, his expression softening in a way you hadnât expected.
Slowly, he extended his hand, his fingers unfurling in a silent invitation.
You slipped you palm into his, letting him pull you toward him, his touch both a promise and a tether.
He guided you closer, his hands sliding down your arms, tracing the lines of your shoulders, until they rested firmly on your waist. Then, with a gentle insistence, he drew you toward an armchair, lowering himself into it and coaxing you down to settle over his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs.
His hand rose, tilting your chin so that you were forced to look into his eyes. They held an intensity that bordered on unrelenting, darkened by desire and the hint of something raw, something that took your breath away. He watched you intently, his expression filled with something just shy of reverence. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him as his fingers trailed along your neck, igniting every nerve.
You shivered as he leaned in, so close that his breath fanned across your lips. His touch was calm and certain, his gaze flicking over you as if committing every part of you to memory.
âIâve waited for this,â he whispered, voice low and heated. âFor you.â
The weight of his words pressed against the heavy silence between you, and before you could answer, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and consuming.
He guided you with a gentle but undeniable command, his mouth pressing deeper, each kiss drawn out, languid, until it felt like he was unraveling you with every deliberate stroke of his lips against yours.
The world blurred, and you melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he lured a soft gasp from your lips. His hand slid to the back of your neck, steadying you, keeping you close as he took his time, tasting you, his lips teasing yours until you forgot to breathe.
When you moved to meet his kiss more eagerly, he slowed you, a faint smirk in the curve of his lips as he deepened the kiss with a patience that made your stomach twist. He was savouring this, savouring you, and the way he kissed you - deliberate, knowing - made your entire body ache with need.
His thumb brushed along your cheek, lingering as his other hand settled firmly at your waist, pulling you closer as though he couldnât bear the thought of you slipping away.
Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair as he angled your face, holding you exactly where he wanted. When his tongue brushed lightly over your lower lip, you let out a soft, involuntary sound, and his hand tightened against your waist, holding you to him.
Lokiâs mouth moved over yours with a control that made you shiver, each kiss deliberate, and the quiet dominance in his touch sent warmth pooling through you. With every gentle press of his lips, every slow, teasing stroke, he seduced you, guided you, igniting something deep and undeniable that had simmered for too long. Your heart beat heavily against your ribs, and as you gasped softly, his mouth trailed along your jaw, his lips barely brushing over your skin.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze was dark, his expression full of barely-contained intensity.
A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, the teasing glint returning to his gaze. âWell, look at you,â he soothed, voice rich with quiet amusement. âI half-expected you to come tearing through that door, seeking vengeance for how thoroughly I put you in your place earlier.â
Heat pooled in your face, and you fought to keep your composure, though it was a losing battle. âIâd have been fine if you hadnât-â
â-handled you so effectively?â he interrupted with an infuriating grin, each syllable soft and mocking. âDonât worry. I rather enjoyed it myself.â
His thumb still lingered on your flushed lips, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief but something darker, something that felt like an invitation. âStay with me tonight,â he murmured, his voice low and heated, and the words sent a thrill down your spine.
The invitation hung between you, heavy and dark, the desire in his gaze nearly tangible. Your breath hitched, your heart racing at the thought of losing yourself completely in him, of surrendering to this quiet storm between you.
âThat depends,â you managed, barely able to steady your voice. âAre you planning to repeat what happened earlier?â
He chuckled, his fingers tightening on your waist as his eyes glittered with amusement. âOnly if you ask very, very nicely.â
A thrill shot through you as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with a dark, velvet whisper. âThat certainly won't be the last time we play like that. Tonight, however... I have other ideas for what to do with you." His fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.
Gods help you. He was going to be your undoing.
"I thought I'd take my time, learning you. Slowly. Thoroughly. Every little detail, every sweet noise you can make." His lips skated across the pulse point in your neck. "Would you like that, darling?"
"Yes." You had barely whispered your reply before his lips were on yours again, his mouth moving over yours with a slow, consuming fervour that left no room for questions, no room for anything except the feeling of him, his warmth, his presence, the gentle yet undeniable control in every touch. His fingers threaded through your hair, his hand steadying you as he deepened the kiss, guiding you with a restraint that made you shiver.
You melted into him, your breaths mingling as his hands drifted, his touch both firm and soft, and when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours with an intensity that left you breathless.
âThis is not a game,â he whispered, a promise in his tone, his thumb tracing light patterns along your neck. His expression was sincere, edged with both longing and restraint. âYou say the word, and weâll stop.â
The words were a quiet echo, a reassurance that grounded you both. A chill of reverence passed between you, something thrilling, something impossibly tender. You met his gaze, nodding as your fingers traced the line of his jaw. âYou too. No pressure, no expectations,â you whispered back, meaning it, and he smiled, a soft, endearing smile that made your heart ache.
And then he guided you back into his arms, every movement slow and deliberate as he kissed you once more, drawing you into a dance that would last until dawn.
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@bright-molina
đ SET IT UP (2018)
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Throwback to when I took painkillers and woke up with Photoshop open on my computer to this image I had made
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so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god
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