love and laughter

You caught his wrist. Twisted. Used that leverage to hook your legs around him, then used his thrown balance to send him down.

His back hit the mat with a solid thud.

For a moment, he just blinked up at you, winded and momentarily stunned.

You grinned, settling your weight on top of him, knee digging into his ribs just hard enough to remind him who the boss was. "Tell me," you mused, "who did you say was getting their ass handed to them today?"

Sam huffed, mouth pursing into something half-annoyed, half-amused. "Yeah, screw you."

You arched a brow. "Not much of an apology."

His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing. A second’s hesitation. You pounced.

Your fingers slipped under his ribs, pressing just enough-

"Shit!"

Your smirk quickly became a grin.

A choked laugh ripped out of him before he could stop it. He bucked violently, twisting beneath you as laughter tore through him like he’d been struck by lightning.

Your hand followed wherever he turned. "Something wrong, Wilson?"

"You demon-" He twisted again, finally using sheer force to throw you off. You hit the mat with a sharp roll over your shoulder, coming up to your feet in a fluid motion, laughing as he swore under his breath, breathless.

You two weren't the only ones laughing.

Thor chuckled, amused. Bucky smirked, arms crossed. Steve shook his head, exasperated. And Loki...

Loki was watching you like a cat watching a caged bird.

He tilted his head, eyes sharp, lips lifting in a slow, knowing smirk. "That," he said, "seems like an extraordinarily reckless tactic to introduce."

You dusted your hands off. "How so?"

Loki’s smirk widened. He took the bait. "Because every person in this room is stronger than you. And now you’ve gone and planted a very particular idea in their minds."

His gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate. You crossed your arms, lifting that same brow in challenge. Giving him space to continue monologuing.

"I mean, really," he mused in a silken voice, "do you truly want to tempt fate by giving them the notion to simply hold you down and take their revenge?"

The air shifted, and you held back your confident smirk, just to play with him a bit. "They're welcome to try."

Bucky stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. "It's futile." He shot you a begrudging look. "We learned a long time ago - she’s not ticklish."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, and it’s annoying as hell. Not many ways to get her back for all that sass."

You shot him a sly smile.

Loki made a sound in his throat - amused, unimpressed. "You’re wrong."

Your eyes slid back to him, fixing him with a look. "Wrong? I'm not ticklish, Loki."

Loki’s lips curled into a smirk. “Yes, you are.”

Tense silence fell upon the room as the others turned to Loki, confused, silently hoping.

The moment stretched, electric.

Smirking eye contact, the crackle of something just shy of violent, just shy of something else.

You squinted. "I'm not lying. I've never been ticklish. Ask anyone in here."

“Hmm, I'm sure they have tried with their clumsy mortal hands,” he murmured, voice low, rich, laced with wicked amusement. “I, however..." His smirk grew downright devious. "I could take you apart without breaking a sweat.”

Your stomach did something sharp and treacherous. The heat in your face spread down your neck before you could help it.

Sam snorted. “Oh my god.”

Bucky shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Steve exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting his life choices.

You, however, refused to flinch.

“Yeah, right.”

Loki chuckled, slow and dark.

“I’ll gladly prove it,” he insisted, voice a lazy taunt, “as soon as you’re not afraid to submit to it."

The words pushed like a slow blade between your ribs. The challenge, goading you to agree to being pinned and tested, for him to catalogue your responses. It’s not like he was going to succeed in tickling you, but submit?

No way in hell.

Your mouth parted in a scoff, heat flushing your neck, your cheeks, something sharp already forming on your tongue-

“Okay, this,” Sam interrupted, pointing one hand at each of you, “is the one of most sexual things I’ve ever seen in my life, and I once walked in on Thor oiling himself up for battle.”

You lunged.

Sam yelped, dodging back, but before you could reach him, a familiar arm hooked around your waist, effortlessly hauling you back onto the mat.

Bucky didn’t even flinch. “Easy, killer."

Loki chuckled, low and pleased, as you pushed Bucky's arm away.

“I do so enjoy this part,” the god mused.

You exhaled sharply, still flushed, still coiled tight with something restless and unsatisfied. You took the bait. “What part?”

His gaze flicked to yours, amused, knowing. “The part where you pretend to be annoyed.”

The others snorted.

Your mouth opened, but before you could fire back, Loki winked, turned, and made to leave.

Something in you rebelled.

“Hey!" You called after him. "Come put your money where your mouth is, Your Highness."

Loki stopped.

He exhaled a low, dark chuckle, then, slowly, began rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, baring forearms lined with lean, deceptive strength.

“I didn't think,” he murmured, “you'd want an audience for what’s about to transpire.”

Sam made a strangled noise. “I hate this. I hate this weird foreplay.”

Thor’s booming laugh filled the room.

"Of course I want an audience," you hummed, ignoring the riffraff. "I want them all to witness you making a fool of yourself." You stepped back onto the mat, uncrossing your arms, opening your stance. "But I’m not submitting. If you want me at your mercy, you’ll have to earn it.”

Loki turned back, and - lazily, deliberately, with a smirk that was pure sin - prowled toward you. “Very well,” he purred with a tilt of his head. “Let’s play.”

But the moment his feet hit the mat, you got the sinking feeling that you'd just walked into a trap.

You’d never sparred with Loki before. Hell, you’d never even seen him fight outside of an actual battlefield, where his chaos and skill blurred the line between strategy and sheer fucking audacity.

But now, circling each other under the dim gym lights, with him as your adversary, you saw raw, precise power coiled beneath his deliberate movements, waiting to unravel.

His stance was fluid, deceptively relaxed. Beautiful, cocky bastard. Every shift of his weight, every flicker of his gaze, calculated. You could tell he was watching you, reading you, in a way that made heat lick at the base of your spine. And deep in your belly.

So you lunged first.

In the blink of an eye, he dodged, slipping around your advance like a fast-flowing stream through your fingers, barely exerting any effort. Your body twisted, adjusting on instinct, throwing your weight into a feint before coming back around, aiming for his side.

But again, he was faster.

Loki flowed around your strike like water, his arm shooting out with lightning precision. You barely registered the movement before his palm landed solidly against your ribs - not with brute force, but a firm, pointed push, sending you stumbling off balance.

You caught yourself, breath coming sharp through your nose. He stood there, utterly at ease, watching you with a glint of amusement.

Smug, infuriatingly hot, cocky bastard.

You exhaled. Steady.

Regrouping, you moved again, but this time, you were smarter - testing- feeling out the way he reacted. The next time he dodged, you anticipated it, twisting mid-motion and using his own momentum against him, catching his arm and yanking.

It almost worked.

The instant you felt his weight shift, you knew - he’d let you do that.

You barely had time to react before he countered, twisting with impossible grace, his body moving like an under-sea shadow. You felt it before you saw it.

His hands on you.

Turning.

Your feet ripped out from under you.

The mat met your chest with a harsh thud, your breath shooting out of your lungs in a rush.

Your wrists flexed, instinctively pushing to lift yourself up - except one of them wasn’t moving. Something heavy and warm pressed you down.

Your pulse jumped.

Loki was above you, his thighs caging your hips, one hand securing your wrist above your head. Your left side was left exposed, vulnerable. You snuck a glance at the rest of the team - on your... right - he chose to test the side they couldn't see. Why?

There were more important matters to tend to.

You struggled, but his grip was like iron, pressing your wrist into the mat, keeping your body still beneath his. The sheer weight of him was suffocating, and intoxicating, his lean muscle like warm steel.

The sound of your panting filled the space between you as you used your free hand to push against his knee, against the mat, to try and pry his hand off your wrist.

Nothing budged. Nothing. Especially not you.

So, finally, you gave up the fight, relaxing underneath him, letting your forehead fall to the mat as the others chuckled on the sidelines.

A low, satisfied, hum rumbled from his chest.

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the way the heat from his body seemed to sink into yours. “Yeah, whatever. You're a thousand-year-old god, of course you're gonna win."

Loki chuckled. And that sound - deep, smug, thoroughly entertained - was infuriating.

You scoffed, and gave a snarky chuckle, lazing your head to the side, not the slightest bit concerned. "Well, go on. Do what you need to do. All of these guys have tried, failed, and reaped the embarrassment of prodding my stomach while I stare them down. Your turn."

"My turn," he repeated in a low, heat, murmur that made your neck prickle. "They’ve all tried, have they?"

His eyes flicked toward the others - Bucky, Sam, Steve, Thor - still watching with rapt attention.

"I'm guessing they wrestled you, pinned you," Loki mused, "and I imagine they grabbed at your waist, or jammed their fingers clumsily under your arms, yes?"

Your stomach clenched at the cool, casual confidence in his voice.

His head dipped lower, lips brushing just past your ear.

"But no one's ever been gentle with you, have they?"

The implication landed hot in your stomach. With that tone, he definitely wasn't just talking about tickling.

"I don’t need gentle," you gritted out, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

Loki hummed again. And then -

A single touch.

Soft. Featherlight. Unfamiliar.

A slow, wandering drag of fingertips under the hem of your shirt, gliding over your side with aching delicacy.

An involuntary shudder rippled through you, sparkling sensation travelling up your neck, down your hip.

Your breath hitched.

Loki’s low chuckle vibrated against your back.

“Oh, my. Was that a reaction?"

You tested your wrist again, his grip didn’t budge. Iron.

“I-” You wet your lips, breathing out a nervous chuckle. Steady... “If this is tickling, why do people react to it so violently? Sam practically-”

The words died in your throat as his fingers slipped higher.

A slow, agonisingly light scratching at your ribcage.

Your body shifted before you even realised. Some strange, new sensation bloomed alive beneath your skin - an almost electric tingle, sharp and shivery, not... uncomfortable but not something you could control.

You winced, feeling your own muscles betray you, your arm instinctively trying to pull down. Your brow furrowed.

Silence from the others.

Your pulse pounded as you turned your head and met their confused stares and raised brows.

Loki’s voice dipped lower. “Tell me,” he whispered, dark and taunting, “what do you feel?”

You swallowed. Your breath was unsteady. “I don’t know, I-”

You barely got the words out before his fingers slipped higher, that damnably light touch moving quicker, scraping against your skin and nerves-

A sensation erupted.

Your body jerked.

A strangled noise caught in your throat - somewhere between a gasp and a sound you’d never made before - bubbling up.

No.

No fucking way.

Your fingers dug into the mat. Heat roared through your veins, panic flickering, because something strange was happening. Your body was reacting. Your breath hitching, catching, some kind of force simmering deep in your lungs-

“What the hell are you doing to me?” you demanded, voice breathless, confused, desperate.

Loki only laughed, dark and rich, and said, “Proving a point.”

And then he picked up the speed.

A choked, gasping giggle burst out of you before you could stop it.

Your eyes widened.

The others on the sidelines looked gobsmacked.

The sensation grew, intensified, as Loki’s fingers didn’t stop.

You twisted violently, struggling under him, but his weight was unforgiving, his grip relentless.

Your lips parted, a stream of breathless giggles slipping free.

Oh, fuck.

Your body shuddered as his fingers skimmed higher, up to the skin stretched over the centre of your ribcage-

Your head hit the mat as laughter was yanked out of you. Your legs kicked, trying to gain traction, but Loki only chuckled at your useless attempts.

“Wait- fucking- you-"

“Well,” Loki purred, so fucking pleased with himself, “Not ticklish, was it?”

The laughter ripped through your throat, unrelenting, spilling out in gasping waves as Loki’s damnable fingers continued their excruciatingly light torment. The others on the sidelines cheered in pure delight as you laughed and laughed and twisted and squirmed.

But there was no escape.

No amount of tensing, no desperate attempts to throw him off, could do anything against his sheer strength and control. His weight pressed you into the mat, keeping you exactly where he wanted, his hand moving with deadly precision - every stroke of his fingertips dragging something shivery and unbearable from your skin.

Bucky's surprised scoff cut across your struggling. "Well I'll be."

"All this time, huh?" Steve huffed a laugh through his nose.

"Oh, you are definitely getting it from me," Sam's chortling threat made you turn your head away, back to where only Loki could see your profile.

Gods, Loki.

This wasn’t the clumsy, forceful jabbing of a sparring partner trying to elicit a reaction.

This... this was deliberate. Skilled. Loki had found something new in you, and he was taking his time exploring it.

And the worst part?

The heat.

The deep, simmering pull in your stomach had nothing to do with his magic and everything to do with the way his body pinned yours, the warmth of his breath, the slow, dangerous way he was learning you.

You were done for.

“Now,” Loki called to the others, voice smooth and pleased and maddeningly composed over your breathless gasps, “what exactly should I be dishing out punishment for? As long as you all have tales of her misdeeds…”

His fingers fluttered along your ribs, light and delicate, dragging over the hyper-sensitive skin. Your body seized with a squeal, then a sharp, gasping laugh.

“…I’ll keep going.”

The traitorous bastards on the sidelines did not hesitate.

“How much time you got?” Sam called, laughing.

"She replaced the protein powder with flour," Bucky offered. "Had us all drinking sludge in our shakes for days until we realised."

Loki hummed in amusement. "Clever." His fingers never stopped - the feathery, unbearable strokes at your lower ribs making your body tremble under him.

"Last week she convinced Thor that the Alexa was not only a real person, but 'Midgard's Only Goddess.'" Sam snorted. "Had Thor trying to win her favour for hours."

Loki chuckled, shaking his head as though deeply ashamed of you. His fingers slid higher up your ribs, the change in focus so sudden it made your breath hitch violently - your body arching before you could stop it.

"Oh, that’s good," Sam laughed. "Keep her goin', we got more."

"She told the new recruits that I get my hair done at a salon called ‘Thunder Struck,’" Thor added, betrayal in his voice. "The rumours-"

"-are completely true," you gasped, still somehow defiant through the breathless laughter spilling out of you.

Loki sighed in faux fatigue. "A habitual liar, too. Unfortunate." His fingers shifted again, this time creeping into the soft space under your arm-

Your laughter folded into silence.

A sharp, breathless inhale was all you could manage, body seizing as your nerves exploded with sensation. Your free hand slammed into the mat, trying to brace yourself.

Loki noticed.

“Oh,” he purred, sounding far too satisfied. His fingers didn’t move, just rested there, as if savouring the way you tensed beneath him. “I see.”

Your eyes widened. Somehow, you knew what was coming.

“I believe,” he murmured darkly, “I’ve found the perfect place for my discipline.”

His fingers twitched.

A sharp, shuddering noise burst out of you.

Then he started moving.

Slow. Dragging.

Your body jolted before you could stop it, a sharp, helpless squirm beneath him. Your breath hitched violently in your throat, trying to hold in the laughter- you couldn’t let him win-

His fingers curled against your skin in a perfectly devastating way, grazing soft circles in the deepest, most vulnerable part of that untouched nerve space, and the laughter broke out of you in an uncontrollable rush.

Loki sighed, as if he were so terribly disappointed.

“What was it you called me last week?” he mused, tracing, scratching, slow, taunting circles over every tormenting inch. “Ah, yes - ‘horny Shakespeare?’”

You shrieked. Your trapped hand trembling into a fist, tears of mirth threatening hot behind your eyes.

The others roared with laughter.

“Or was it-” He shifted, pressing in closer, lips brushing against your burning ear, voice dripping with amusement, “-‘overgrown magician with daddy issues’?”

You shrieked again, laughter breaking apart into gasping, desperate protests.

“Oh, I rather like this one-” His fingers swirled, still unbearably light, sweeping quickly over the taut skin. “You said I ‘probably cry after sex.’”

“I TAKE IT BACK-”

Loki laughed, dark and dangerous, sitting back up as his fingers scraped gently, just enough to send fire through your nerves, to make your laughter break, to send your legs kicking uselessly against the mat.

"Ah, and my favourite," Loki continued, relentless, "-you looked me dead in the eyes, in front of the entire team, and asked me if my horns were, in fact, just overcompensation for something far more-"

He was cut off when his fingers stroked, just so, against the place just below your arm where your ribcage ended, and laughter tore through you, something wrecked in your voice, your body shaking against his.

"Oh, you didn't like that, did you?" he soothed in mock sympathy before his voice gave way to a dark, sensuous chuckle.

"Loki- PLEASE!"

You had never begged before.

But you'd never been ticklish before.

And Loki - Loki fucking knew.

His chuckle returned as his hand slowed to a stop, fingers still perched threateningly as your ragged breath expelled beneath him.

"Did you hear that, gentlemen?" Your chest heaved, body shaking from the sheer force of it all, something deeply unsettled in your bones as his palm smoothed down your side, lingering before his fingers tightened at your hip, his grip possessive. "I do believe our dear girl has finally learned some manners."

Your entire body burned.

Then, Loki pushed off, moving effortlessly to his feet as if the last five minutes hadn’t utterly destroyed you.

True to his word, he hadn't broken a sweat.

You barely managed to push yourself onto your knees, your body unsteady, your breathing still laboured.

"Wait, hold up," Sam interrupted, holding a hand towards you. "Loki, you gotta show us how to do that."

Loki stiffened. It was barely noticeable. A flicker. A shift in the air.

And then - smooth as ever, with an icy calm that sent a clear warning, "I used magic," he said, holding up a hand with fingertips glowing green. "You are not capable, and you should not try."

You looked up, saw the chilled death in his stare that bored into Sam.

Liar.

That's why he chose to test the side no one else can see; he didn't want anyone else knowing how to undo you.

And everyone knew it. The implication was clear:

Back off.

Sam held up his hands immediately. "Alright, damn. Not trying to start an intergalactic incident."

The tension in the room eased as you caught your breath, but the tension inside you only burned hotter.

Loki turned and met your gaze with something solemn in his expression, something dark and wanting... protective.

Something only for you.

And fuck, you were both done for.

.

“I gotta say, you’re really sticking to the dark soldier aesthetic,” you quipped, hands shoved in your pockets. “It’s impressive. Very consistent.”

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. “Consistent, huh? That your way of saying I’m boring?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say boring.” You turned to him, letting your grin curl just sharp enough to bait him. “More… predictable.”

He stopped walking, his head tilting just slightly, and the gleam in his eye made something in your chest tighten.

“Predictable?” he repeated, his tone soft, like he was rolling the word around to test it.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress the grin threatening to spread. “It’s not a bad thing, Bucky. You’re… reliable. Steady. I can set my watch by your moods - glare, brood, occasional grunt of disapproval. It’s comforting, really.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the silence and tension stretching between you.

“What?” you asked, try to hold back a smirk. “Did I hit a nerve?”

His gaze sharpened on yours, glinting with something dark and teasing that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. “You really think I’m predictable?”

The air between you crackled with tension, each word a spark igniting the unspoken feelings lurking beneath the surface. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, but you held your ground, refusing to let him see how much his attention affected you.

“I’m just saying-”

Before you could finish, he moved. Quick as a snap, his hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward him. You stumbled, nearly cursing, before he bent low, braced his shoulder into your middle, and straightened, hoisting you up and over.

“Bucky!” Your voice came out an octave higher than usual, your palms pressing against his broad back as you flailed. “Put me down!” you hissed, your fists pounding helplessly at his shoulders as the world spun upside down.

He ignored you, his laughter low and dangerous as it rumbled through his chest. “Still think I’m predictable?”

“Yes! You’re-” Your voice caught, your brain short-circuiting when his palm splayed against the back of your thigh to keep you steady. The touch was firm, effortless, and it did unforgivable things to your ability to form coherent words. “Y-you’re shooting the messenger. This is completely unnecessary!”

“Unnecessary?” he echoed, his tone laced with a sinister amusement. “You sure about that? Because I think this is overdue.”

Your stomach flipped at the shift in his voice - low and teasing, laced with a playful edge you’d never heard before.

He turned a corner abruptly and nudged open a door with his boot, stepping into a small, dimly lit storage room.

“Wait, what- what are you doing?” you demanded, kicking your legs uselessly. “Bucky, I swear- ”

“I’d save your breath if I were you,” he said darkly, the door clicking shut behind him.

Your mind lurched. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A slow, devilish chuckle rolled through him. “It means, smartass, that I’m about to tickle the shit outta you.”

Your brain flatlined.

You froze. Completely froze. For the first time, your mouth opened - but nothing came out. Heat flared across your entire body, and Bucky’s amused hum was like a spark to gasoline.

“Oh,” he hummed, patting your thigh like some cruel punctuation to your embarrassment, “that got your attention.”

“Shut up!” you finally spluttered, mortified, because now he knew. Now he knew, and you’d just handed him a weapon far more dangerous than any gun or blade.

His laughter was low, dark, and - gods help you - so unfairly attractive that it only made things worse. “What, did I hit a nerve?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Your squirming renewed tenfold, panic spiking through you as you tried to push yourself up off his shoulder. “Don’t you dare, Bucky Barnes! I swear-”

He unceremoniously let you drop back onto your feet, your balance faltering as you collided with his chest, still breathless. You shoved at him instinctively, trying to regain your footing, but he was already advancing, backing you toward the nearest wall.

Your face was on fire now, your usual sharp wit nowhere to be found. You’d never seen him like this - playful, teasing, free - and it was completely throwing you off.

You stammered, breath catching as your back hit the wall. “B-Bucky- no! Don’t-”

“You're really worked up about this,” he interrupted, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk tugging at his lips. The shadows softened the hard lines of his face, but his eyes… his eyes burned with something else.

He leaned in slightly, caging you in with his hands braced against the wall beside your head. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not,” you hissed, even as you felt your face go hotter.

The smirk grew. “I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not-”

"Predict this, sweetheart."

Before you could blink, his hands darted to your hips, fingers digging in with deliberate precision. Your reaction was immediate - a gasp, a choked laugh you couldn’t swallow back in time.

“No!” you shrieked, laughter already bubbling out of you as you squirmed violently. “I take it back, okay?! I take it back!”

“Too late,” Bucky replied, grinning like the devil himself as his hands squeezed your sides again. “Now I’m invested.”

"B-Bucky! Cut it out!"

“Cut it out?” he repeated, his tone mock-innocent as his fingers dugs across your ribs. “I thought you were tougher than this.”

“Shut up!” you managed between gasping laughs, your cheeks burning with humiliation and something dangerously close to exhilaration.

“Is this what you wanted?” he taunted, his voice dark and edged with amusement. “When you called me predictable? Did you want me to prove you wrong?”

Your response was lost in another fit of helpless laughter as his hands found a particularly sensitive spot just under your ribs. You twisted against him, but his grip was unrelenting, his body solid against you.

You let out a strangled laugh, pressing back against the wall as your knees started to give. “You’re- you’re cool! And- and spontaneous and - Bucky - fuck! You’re hot and mysterious and-”

He paused for a second, his grin sharpening as he processed your accidental confession. “Hot, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and entirely too smug.

Your face burned like the sun. “I didn’t mean- fuck, just forget I said-”

“Oh, no,” he said, his hands still firmly on your waist. “I think we’re gonna talk about that later.”

“Buck, I didn't-”

“Nope,” he interrupted, his fingers digging into your sides again, drawing another breathless shriek from you. “We’re not done yet.”

Your laughter filled the room, wild and unguarded, as you tried in vain to squirm away. He zeroed in on your lowest ribs, his fingers hitting angles that sent you reeling. You tried to hold on the desperate peal of laughter, but it echoed through the storage room as your knees weakened further.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your voice breaking as you gripped at his jacket to try and keep yourself upright, another shriek bursting through your lips when his fingers pressed into another susceptible spot. "Please! I can't breathe- BUCKY!"

His grin softened, and for a moment, the teasing melted into something quieter, something genuine. He caught your chin gently with one hand, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Hot, huh?” he repeated, softer this time, his eyes searching yours.

The word hung in the air, a moment of suspended silence between frantic laughter and tension thick enough to choke on. You froze, still panting, your face burning with horror.

Bucky stilled too, his gaze locking onto yours. Then, slowly, his grin returned - this time sharper, hungrier.

His lips were on yours before you could think, a sudden, fiery kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

You melted immediately, fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he pressed you further into the wall, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he tilted your head back, the other gripping your hip. The heat of it was overwhelming, his lips firm and insistent. It was messy, unpracticed, and searingly real.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, still panting, cheeks aflame. His thumb brushed your temple, sending a shiver up your spine, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as his lips grazed yours.

“Did you see that coming, too?”

You couldn’t help it - you grinned against his lips. “Yeah. From a mile away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go to hell."

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

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

And desperate times call for desperate measures.

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

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

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

This was something you could never take back.

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

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

Your stomach dropped, and a tsunami of regret hitting you instantly. “Wait. Loki, I didn’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should have learned your lesson about desperate moves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He flinched.

Pulled back. Pulled away.

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

"Until next time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But I did want-"

"And what if you hadn't?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve can’t resist bragging about us,” Bucky chided, nudging you with his elbow.

“Yeah, well… some of us are hungry!”

You huffed and folded your arms across your chest in annoyance, trying to catch the reporter’s eye with your scowling face, but she was far too enamored by the star-spangled captain to pay you any mind. How had a simple grocery run for ice cream turned into a twenty-minute interview with the press??

“I swear, I’m gonna go drag him away from that reporter by the ear if he doesn’t stop talking in the next 60 seconds,” you grumbled.

“Why do that when we can mess with him instead?”

You turned to look at Bucky, who had a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Go on…”

He smirked, shooting you a wink. “Watch and learn.”

You watched silently as Bucky meandered casually toward where Steve stood speaking with the reporter and her photographer. Steve was none the wiser to his friend approaching from behind.

“… but the serum isn’t the only thing that makes us heroes. It takes a whole load of grit and determina-HAY-tion-!”

Steve flinched as his best friend subtly reached up and pinched his side mid-sentence, effectively silencing him. The captain recovered quickly, though, chuckling nonchalantly as he flashed Bucky a look. He continued on with his sentence after that, refusing to acknowledge what just happened.

“Wait - Steve is ticklish??” you whispered incredulously as Bucky returned to your side.

“Very. Why does that surprise you?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just assumed the serum eliminated weaknesses like that.”

Bucky chuckled. “Nah - if anything it made it worse.”

“Oh-ho, I’ve got to try this for myself!”

You quietly paced up behind the blabbing soldier, pretending you were casually walking past to avoid drawing attention from passerby. As you stepped by him, you reached out and swiftly dug your fingertips into his ribs for less than a second. Steve choked on his words and whipped his head around instinctively. You ducked out of his field of vision and prodded his other side.

“Excuse me,” Steve requested politely, turning around as nonchalantly as possible to find you standing behind him with a guilty grin on your face. “Can I help you?”

“I just came to remind you that we have somewhere we have to be,” you stated sweetly.

“Yes, but it isn’t urgent,” he muttered.

“Oh, I think you’ll find it to be very urgent, actually,” you whispered, shooting him a cheeky wink. With a long, drawn-out sigh, Steve turned to the reporter.

“My apologies, ma’am. Duty calls.”

You saw Bucky clap a hand over his mouth and nose to cover the snort that burst from his nares. Trying hard not to openly roll your eyes in front of the reporter, you nodded in the direction of the grocery store and began marching purposefully toward your destination, with Steve following in your wake.

“You two are infuriating,” Steve grumbled once you were out of earshot from the reporter.

“Excuse me - I just want to go get my ice cream and head back home to eat it,” you countered. “You’re the one who decided to schmooze with the first person who asked you about your superpowers.”

“I’m just trying to maintain good public relations. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Ugh, no. I hate talking about myself.”

The three of you bickered amicably the entire way to the store. It hadn’t ended by the time you’d made it back to the tower kitchen and dropped your grocery bags on the counter.

“I’m just saying - it wouldn’t kill you to wear a hat or something to hide your face from reporters when we’re just trying to go to the store,” you griped, shrugging your sweatshirt off your shoulders and hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen stools.

“It wouldn’t kill you to try to be friendly to strangers every once in a while,” Steve retorted.

“Excuse me - I am a very friendly person! I’m just selective about it.”

“Friendly as an angry porcupine, sure.”

You gasped indignantly. “Are you saying I’m sharp with people??”

“You’re just a little… prickly.”

“Ooh, now that’s an insult,” Bucky hummed sarcastically.

“You’re just as bad, you know. Forget porcupines - you’re like a venomous sea urchin or something,” Steve shot back at his friend. You snorted.

“Steve… you’ve really got to work on your teasing skills,” you chuckled. “A ‘sea urchin?’ Really?”

“I could just take your ice cream”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

Steve held your gaze for a moment, eyes darting briefly to the bag on the counter between you with the ice cream inside. You lunged for the bag handle, but Steve predicted your move, snatching it out of your reach before you could get a hand on it.

“Damnit, Steve!! Give it back!” you whined, rounding the counter to swipe for the grocery bag. He turned his back to you, maintaining a barrier between you and the prize. “Bucky! Help me out here!”

“Nah, this is pretty funny to watch,” Bucky chuckled, snickering as you swatted at Steve’s arm.

“Yeah but your ice cream is in there too!”

Bucky sighed. “You make a fair point. Steve, buddy, give it back.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve been just as much a pain in my rear today! Why would I give it back to you either?”

You gasped dramatically, catching Bucky’s eye. “Are you gonna let him talk to you like that?”

“‘Course not!”

Without warning, Bucky lunged at his super soldier friend, tackling him to the floor. The bag of ice cream slipped from Steve’s grasp in his surprise, which you quickly snatched up before he could regain the wherewithal to take it back. With a triumphant shout, you tore the cover off your pint of ice cream and dug a spoon out of the drawer, swiping a scoop off the top layer and shoving it in your mouth with a contented sigh.

“Mm… finawwy,” you mumbled with your mouth full. Swallowing, you pointed your spoon accusatorially at Steve where he was currently trying to shove Bucky off himself. “You know, you’ve been a pain in my rear all day. You deserved this - it’s nice to see someone teaching you a lesson.”

“You two are pains in my rear every day!” Steve huffed as he grasped at Bucky’s shoulders and pushed.

“You did not just say that!” you gasped dramatically.

“Yeah, how dare you!” Bucky added, pinching at Steve’s side for emphasis.

“Bahah- Bucky, don’t start this,” Steve warned as he grasped his friend’s wrists to still his hands.

“Ooh! Wait!” You set your ice cream and spoon down on the counter beside you. “I want a go! Bucky, hold him there for a minute.”

“Whahat??” Steve laughed in surprise, a nervous edge to his voice.

“Sure!” Bucky offered, ignoring his friend’s protests as he maneuvered his wrists from Steve’s grasp and swiftly pinned his arms to the floor a few inches from his sides. “Quick, before he gets free!”

"On it!" You crouched down beside the super soldiers as Steve tugged against Bucky's grip. Without waiting to listen to Steve's protests any further, you began to scribble your fingertips into his exposed sides and ribs rapidly. You heard a thump behind you as Steve kicked his heel against the floor in protest, now pulling more frantically to escape his best friend's hold.

"HA-HEHEY! Cut it ohout!!"

"Nah. I deserve a little reward for tolerating you all day," you snickered, prodding at his belly. "Hey, Buck - where should I get him next?"

"Ohh, definitely under his arms," he suggested with a smirk. You pinched your way up his ribcage before slotting your hands into the narrow space between his biceps and his upper ribs. Bucky adjusted his grip to pry his friend's arms away from his sides as he attempted to clamp them down to limit the space under his arms.

"BUCKY!! Let me go-HO-HO this I-HI-INSTANT!" Steve demanded.

"No can do, buddy. I'm enjoying watching you get taken down a peg."

"DAHAMNIT BAHARNES!!"

"Oof, language Steve!" you teased, digging your fingers into the soft spot under his arms. "Where else is he ticklish?"

"The spot on his stomach right under his ribs - that'll really get him good." Steve nearly managed to slip his wrist from Bucky's grasp, but he quickly shifted his grip once again. "Better do it quick - I can't hold him much longer."

"Say no more." You pulled your hands free from under Steve's arms and danced your fingertips across the muscle-clad skin of his abdomen just under his ribcage as Bucky suggested. He threw his head back with a heavy stream of laughter at your touch, arching his back against the floor in desperation. It was only another moment before he finally succeeded in escaping Bucky's grasp.

Steve sat up swiftly, a playful but menacing gleam in his eye as his gaze immediately landed on you.

"Oh-ho, shit!" You scrambled to get to your feet to make your escape, groaning defeatedly when you felt a strong set of arms wrap around your waist and yank you backward.

“You really think I’d let you get away with that?” Steve asked rhetorically as he tightened his arms around your midsection to hold you in place.

“W-wait, Steve, we can- ahaha nohoho!” Your protests were cut short as Steve’s fingers kneaded into your sides. “Bucky! Hehehelp!!”

“Nuh-uh. You’re on your own, my friend.” The infuriatingly unhelpful super soldier waltzed over to the counter to retrieve his ice cream, planting himself atop the countertop and digging in while observing the two of you wrestling on the floor below.

“USELEHESS!!” you cried, attempting futilely to pry Steve’s hands off your sides.

“Nice try. You should know better than to mess with me by now,” Steve teased. He loosened his grip slightly to scratch at your belly. A rumbling laugh erupted in his chest when you screeched in protest and doubled over, suddenly much more frantic. “Oh, what’s this?”

“DAHAMNIT STE-HEE-HEVE!” Your grip on his hands was far too weak to even budge them now - not that you’d had any hope of succeeding before your muscles had weakened from his tickling. You leaned more heavily into him as you succumbed to laughter. He responded by lowering you down to lay on the floor beside him, freeing both hands to dart randomly around your sides and stomach. Weakly, you tapped your palm on the floor beside you in surrender. Steve threw in a few more exceedingly ticklish light scratches along your belly before relenting in his revenge.

“That’ll teach you,” he teased with a grin, offering you a hand to help you off the ground. You grasped your abdominal muscles that were now aching from laughter.

“I-hi… I’ll probably still mess with you,” you admitted breathlessly. Steve made a noise of protest in his throat and reached over to pinch your side, but you swatted his hand away. “Noho more! You’ll kill me!”

“So dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. “Here - here’s your ice cream. Hope it melted while you were tormenting me.”

“Harsh!” You snatched it from his hand and stuck out your tongue, then turned to look at Bucky. "And you - you were zero help, thank you."

"Hey! I held him down for you! I was very helpful, in my personal opinion."

Diiiiing!

High school didn’t usually dismiss at 9:00am. You didn’t crawl out of the warmth of your bed for two hours of instruction. But, these weren’t usual times. 

A killer was on the loose. People were going missing, lives were being lost. Woodsboro High couldn’t keep you safe. So, they sent everyone home with a strict curfew to be enforced in the evening.

Even in a crowd, you felt afraid. Ghostface could be anywhere. He could strike at any time. You didn’t even bother going to your locker. Instead, you were one of the first students in the hall, holding your backpack strap in a death grip. 

You walked as fast as your feet could take you. But, someone behind you was faster. 

Unlike you, Stu was thrilled to have a siesta from school. He burst out of his boring history class with a huge grin. He scanned the crowd for you and, when he saw you, he pushed his way forward. 

“(Y/N!)

In the commotion of the busy hallway, you didn’t hear him approach. So, when two strong arms hoisted you into the air, you screamed. 

“No, NO! Let me go!” Your limbs took on a mind of their own, flailing about violently. If Ghostface was gonna take you out, he’d have a fight on his hands. Stu yelped and, after getting clocked in the jaw, he immediately put you back down. 

“Hey, HEY! It’s just me!” Stu wailed. He rubbed his jaw, wincing. “Fuck, that hurt…”

You sighed an exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Stu.” You stepped towards him, closing the gap, and tenderly put a hand on his jaw. “You scared the hell outta me. I’m sorry.” 

For a moment, Stu’s eyes softened. The two of you had been friends since elementary school, and it wasn’t really a secret that he adored you. He made an agreement with Billy that they weren’t allowed to hurt you. Ever. You were his calm in the storm that he and Billy were bringing to Woodsboro. 

And, for you, Stu was your light in the darkness. The Ghostface attacks had you on edge. You hadn’t been sleeping well, lacked focus in class, and constantly looked over your shoulder. A part of you wished that Stu took the ordeal more seriously. But, a larger part of you was grateful that he still found ways to make you smile. He leaned into your hand and gave you a little pout.

“Sorry enough to come by my place tonight?” Stu’s pout turned into a bright, hopeful grin. “My parents won’t be home, and Randy hooked me up with some killer movies. All that’s missing is you~.”

He ended his statement with a poke to your nose. You smiled, playfully batting his hand away. Then, you released his jaw and sighed. 

“I don’t know, Stu. I’m tired.” You replied. Then, as if on cue, you yawned deeply. “I haven’t been able to sleep because of, well, ya know.” 

Stu nodded. But then, he gave you another bright smile, leaning his taller frame towards you. “That’s exactly why you should come over! Ghostface’s got nothing on me.” He bragged and flexed his muscles. “Look, I’m so buff, I’ll totally protect you, (Y/N).” 

You regarded him with a smirk. Then, you reached up to feel his bicep. Stu gasped and made a dramatic show of leaning into you. You tried to hold him up, but he was too heavy, and he nearly made you fall. You yelped and stumbled back into a nearby locker, scolding him without malice. 

“Stuhu!” You laughed and grabbed onto both of his arms to keep yourself upright. Stu snickered and hovered over you. He gently shook your hands off of his arms and took them into his own. He squeezed them affectionately, thumbs rubbing the top of your hands, and his blue eyes gazed into yours. 

“Let me protect you, alright?” He asked softly. You froze and held his gaze. There was a sudden warmth in his eyes, and you felt your cheeks heating up. After a beat, you nodded.

“Alright, if you really promise to protect me.” 

Although the safety of your home comforted you, you needed a distraction. And, Stu seemed happy to deliver. Stu confirmed this with a wide grin. 

“Awesome!” Stu cheered. He suddenly scooped you up, making you squeal, and carried you through the crowds. Once out of the school, he put you down, patting your back. “Come by at six tonight. Oh! And bring food! Can’t have a movie night without food.”

You smoothed out your clothes, returning his grin. Honestly, he could’ve gotten lost in that smile. “I’ll bring the best of Woodsboro’s culinary delights. You can count on it.” 

Stu whooped and did a fist pump. Then, with another laugh, the two of you parted ways. 

Burgers, fries, and sodas spelled the perfect night-in for you. Stu’s house wasn’t too far from yours, but your older brother insisted on dropping you off. You waved goodbye as he pulled off and carried the food to Stu’s door. You had to put the sodas down to knock on the door. Seconds later, the door opened, and Stu greeted you with a huge grin. 

“There you are! Right on time.” He gave you a quick hug and helped you bring the food in. Once inside his home, you felt your shoulders drop. You’d been over his home so many times, it brought you a sense of peace. A rarity in the current state of Woodsboro. You followed him to the living room and set the bags down. He did the same. Then, he turned to you, playfully pushing you back onto the couch. 

“HEY!” You caught yourself with your hands, snickering. Stu flopped beside you, and you lightly shoved his shoulder. “That’s how you treat someone who brought you food?” 

Stu chuckled and cozied up to you, putting his head on your arm. “Maybe.” He smirked. He reached forward to grab the remote and his fries. “Now, shhh! The movie’s starting.”

You rolled your eyes, but otherwise relented. 

Stu picked out a scary movie for the two of you to watch. His head was still resting on your arm and, despite your best efforts, you flinched at the jump scares. You shielded your eyes from any more scares, and Stu looked up at you curiously. He smiled. 

“D’aww, you’re kinda cute when you’re afraid.” He cooed. He poked your cheek, snickering as you reeled away from him. 

“Cut it out, I’m not cute.” You argued, keeping your eyes shielded. You moved your hands when you felt him shift under you. He sat straight up, suddenly poking your side. You slammed your arm to protect the area.  “Aha! Stu!”

“I don’t know,” he mused, now harboring a playful glint in his eye. “That’s the cutest little giggle I’ve ever heard. And you know what?”

You didn’t respond, but when you felt the couch cushion dip, you jumped to your feet out of instinct. Just in time too, because Stu had scooted closer to you, wriggling his fingers in the air. You giggled nervously, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Stu, don’t you dare-”

“Oh, I dare, (Y/N)!” He grinned mischievously. He made the conscious effort not to dip into his Ghostface voice. “I wanna hear that adorable giggle again.”

He shot up from his seat and lunged towards you. You yelped and narrowly dodged him. You ran behind the couch for cover and tried to run around it. But, Stu mirrored your movements, moving left and right with you respectively. “Where ya goin’~?”

“I’m gonna kill youhu-” You snickered and made the last minute decision to grab a pillow for self-defense. Stu’s eyes widened and, after a dramatic gasp, he covered his mouth with both hands. 

“You’re gonna kill me? With a pillow? Oh my god, have mercy!” Stu pretended to sound terrified. Then, he suddenly vaulted over the couch, easily ripping the pillow from your hands. “I don’t respond well to threats! Now, you’re gonna get it!”

You screamed and took off running. Stu’s grin widened; he loved a good chase. He stayed hot on your tail and chased you through the house. He easily caught up with you and, just before you could book it upstairs, he wrapped both of his arms around your waist. He dragged you back to the couch and tossed you onto it. 

“Baaad move, (Y/N)! You don’t run upstairs when someone’s chasing you!” He playfully chastised. He straddled your waist and poked at random spots on your torso. You squealed and bucked your hips, giggling frantically. “Haven’t you watched any movies?”

“Nohohoho!” You whined and wrestled with his hands. You managed to get a couple of pinches on his sides, making him squeal, but he was faster and stronger than you. He gathered your wrists into one hand, holding them above your head. Then, with his free hand, he alternated pinches along your hips. You arched your back and giggled harder. “Thihihis isn’t fuhuhuhny! Lehehet me gohoho!”

“Nope! No can do, I’ve gotta have those cute (Y/N)  giggles.” Stu snickered and suddenly reached up to spider his nails along your neck. “Give ‘em to me!”

You yelled and scrunched your neck. “NOHahahaha! Stuhuhu stahaha!” You protested and whipped your head around, trying to avoid his fingers. After a couple more scratches, his hand found your side, and he squeezed at it rapidly. You arched your back again. “STUHUHU!”

“(Y/N)~” He responded in a singsong voice. He scritched across your stomach to get to your other side. “Poor baby, does it tickle?”

“Yehehehes!” You whined and fell deeper into your giggle fit. “Plehehehehease stohohohop!”

“But I haven’t even tickled your armpits yet!” Stu argued. Your eyes widened and you looked up at him, only to be met with a smug grin. “What? That wouldn’t be a bad spot, would it?”

“NO! Not there, Stu, plehehehease!” You started giggling again when he poked and prodded up your side. You squirmed, trying to roll away from you, but his weight on top of you kept you pinned to the cushions. “Plehehease nohohot thehehere!”

Stu smirked up at you, teasing your rib cage with his blunt nails. That was your second worst spot; you squirmed around more violently, gasping in between giggles. 

“Here I come, (Y/N)...” Stu taunted. He pinched at the spaces in between your ribs, earning short barks of laughter. “I’m gonna get you..”

You shook your head back and forth, laughing harder as he kept moving up. “Nahahaha dohohon’t!”

Stu’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Would you fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book? 

“Don’t what?” He asked, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. You snorted and pushed your head against his, making him chuckle. “Hmm~? Don’t what, buddy?”

“Tihihihihickle mehehehehe!”

No way. Stu switched to the other side of your neck to nuzzle. You pinched your eyes shut, now full-on laughing. “Well,” he breathed into your skin, making you laugh harder. “If you insist!”

Stu let go of your wrists and, in one fluid motion, plunged his wiggling fingers under your arms. You screamed and slammed your arms against your sides, which trapped his hands in place. 

“NOHAHAHA GEHEHEHT OHOHOFF OF MEHEHEHE!” You kicked your legs against the couch, your loud laughter filling up every corner of the room. “PLEHEHEHASE!”

“Listen to you, listen to that pretty laugh!” Stu laughed along with you and drilled his thumbs into your armpits. You squeezed your arms against your sides even more, falling deeper into a pit of laughter. “You’re such a cutie. Tickle, tickle, tickle, cutie pie.”

You blushed and writhed under him, laughing yourself silly. While tickling your armpits, Stu returned to nuzzling your neck. He blew quick raspberries into it when he felt especially mischievous. As much as you kicked and laughed, you weren’t going anywhere. It was the raspberries that pushed you into hiccupy laughter, and after one more raspberry, Stu stopped tickling you. 

You breathed heavily. Ticklish sensations still plagued you, so you were still very giggly. “Youhu’re suhuhch an ahahashole.”

Stu laughed. “You don’t mean that. You love me!” His eyes softened again as he looked at you; disheveled hair, a wide smile, those beautiful (e/c) eyes. “Right? Cause I’ve definitely got a thing for you, (Y/N).”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Your face spelled surprise, but somewhere in your heart, you already knew. “Really?”

Stu climbed off of you so that you could sit up. “Hell yeah, I do.” He repeated, patting a spot beside him. You obliged by scooting beside him, so that you were pressed against him. “Want me to prove it?”

That’s what you needed. Proof. Something sweet to seal the deal. You nodded. Then, wrapping an arm around you, he leaned down to kiss your lips. Deeply.