#ticklefluff

You remember it vividly, the moment your stupid band teacher from middle school told you becoming a famous singer wasn’t an achievable career. That you needed to ‘pick something realistic.’ It had all but shattered your worldview, that moment. Apparently dancing, your runner-up, wasn’t a suitable career either. Ah. You were pissed, and he was too, after you’d made a remark about how you felt that ‘settling for teacher’ was not a decision you’d be interested in making. 

Regardless, you weren’t surprised that you spent the rest of the period in the principal’s office, left to ponder whether or not you wanted to consider a different occupation. Ultimately, you decided you should, and thus began the search for a profession that would be tolerable, but also easily achievable. 

You’d realized as you advanced through high school that those two requirements were a far cry from synonymous, and the topics that piqued your interest would require hard work and grit to make a career out of. Inevitably, your determination to make an enjoyable life for yourself surpassed your commitment issues, and teenage desire to procrastinate.  You decided you would focus on physics and astronomy. 

Despite the inconvenience of having to give something your all, as you progressed through the early stages of adulthood, you grew more and more thankful you’d made the choice to commit to something you truly wanted. Not only was it rewarding, achieving a long term goal, but you landed what you eventually concluded was your dream job.Your stupid band teacher changed your life. Taking a deep breath, you admired where the hell you managed to end up with a smile. It was downright amusing that you’d acquired a job as a lab assistant to Bruce Banner. 

Now, how you’d ended up living in the tower, too, was beyond you. Your father lived out of state, but in pursuit of your career, you’d moved in with your mom not too long before you’d been hired. Her being herself, though, she’d had unrealistic expectations of you and was not particularly fond of your attempts to set boundaries with her over them.

Her favorite tactic was to do everything in her power to tear apart the person she was arguing with by claiming she knew their intentions and beliefs better than they did, and would argue their integrity as a person. It always got under your skin but as you grew older you learned how to reason, at least a little bit, with an unreasonable woman, although not without its side effects. For one, you despised anyone trying to get a read on you. You took it personally, especially if they were wrong. 

Another thing that only proved to worsen your relationship with your mother was that nervous habit you had; smiling when accused of something. The look on your face would always be pure guilt, regardless of if you were actually guilty or not. Your mother seemed to use this against you, as proof that she was right in questioning your character. 

The way she’d use these things to tear you down every single time you’d get into a fight hindered your overall communication skills, especially when it came to disagreements. In some attempt to avoid issues with others, you’d put up a facade for all the people you weren’t close with. At the current stage of your life, though, that list happened to contain everyone. 

After having moved back in with your mother and relentlessly trying to reason and set boundaries with her, there’d been a few weeks of a useless power struggle because she refused to compromise or ‘lose’. In order to finally gain the upper hand she’d all but kicked you out, expecting you to not have any other options and just do whatever she wanted. 

That next day, Banner had noticed you were distracted and you’d tried to brush it off, as it wasn’t his burden to deal with, and the last thing you needed was to jump into the politics of your mother. He seemed insistent that he help if he could, though, and in an attempt to veer the conversation elsewhere, you’d asked about the current housing market. 

After a long conversation with Banner and him trying everything he could to convince you it was okay, and no, you were not intruding, it would actually be more convenient for him if you did, you found yourself moving into the tower within the week. Your mother was not happy about that, but you were at your wits end and couldn’t find it in you to care. And now, here you were, in the kitchen at two in the morning, drinking hot cocoa and enjoying how still the world felt at this hour.

Somewhere in your train of thought, you snapped back to the present moment. The warmth of the mug in your hands bringing you a sense of calm, the soft glow of the light in the kitchen adding to the peaceful atmosphere. It was quiet, save for the gentle buzz of electricity emanating from the light fixtures. Tonight was one of those nights where you couldn't quite sleep, mind still restless despite the fact bedtime was ages ago. 

You knew distress wasn’t your source of insomnia, thank goodness, but you chose to seize the moment and bask in the tranquility of this late hour.  It wasn’t exactly healthy, you knew, but there was a nostalgic feeling in your chest from the lack of sleep. Letting yourself stay up so late into the night gave you a sense of control over your time, which wasn’t a feeling you were graced with very often. Additionally, your body’s physical exhaustion hadn’t caught up just yet, making the bout of insomnia all the more easy to enjoy. 

Soon enough, you began considering the pros and cons of pulling an all-nighter, but your thoughts were interrupted by a quiet grunt, then, “What, pray tell, has got you sleepless at this hour?” Snapping out of your thoughts, and registering the fact you’d been found, you turned to face the source of the question with a slight blush dusting your cheeks. You had to fight a smile, seeing the dark-haired god that stood before you. He was wearing a thin cotton t-shirt, pajama pants, and you’d never seen him so informally dressed. It was endearing.

“Nothing in particular. Seems to just be one of those nights.” You wished you were better at eye contact, but the best you had in you was to look down at the drink in your mug and bite your cheek. You were awful with small talk, which was only worsened in the moment with how nervous you got around Loki. You weren’t entirely able to place why, but one reason definitely being that you always felt he could see right through you, and it was unnerving. You hated being underneath any kind of scrutinizing gaze, especially not from the God of Lies himself.

“Ah. Well, enlightening me on your worries is hardly any trouble for me, should you choose to.” Loki sidestepped you to make himself a drink; tea, it looked like. You’d quietly stated that there were no worries to enlighten him on. He didn’t push, and left as quickly as he’d appeared, albeit pausing in the doorway. Turning his head, he added, “I refuse to endure later complaints of tiredness, so do try to avoid that outcome and rest.” 

You smiled slightly at that, but you’d done nothing more than a quiet hum in response and watched as he disappeared down a hall. Taking a moment to wonder about his lack of jests this evening, the argument that he simply did not have the motivation to be anything other than affable right now quickly resolved your pondering about the subject. You’d clearly not had the energy to be talkative, either. You supposed nighttime just had its way of doing that. 

You and Loki had a bit of a cordial friendship, but you weren’t really sure how to deepen it. It’s not like you had many run-ins, seeing as you kept to your room or the lab, and he the library or his room. You supposed that’s why it took you so long to meet him. 

It had been your first game night with the team, which, to be honest, was weird to say. You hadn’t expected your taking residence to be anything of interest, but Bruce had invited you and you felt it couldn’t hurt to formally meet everyone. You weren’t one to really start little chats, so the few times you’d be in the same place at the same time of another avenger, you never progressed further in conversation than a small ‘hello’, followed by a quick exit.

It was relieving that everyone seemed to take kindly to your barging in on their game night. You’d been stumped as to how you’d manage to break the ice with the group, but the card game you were playing resulted in a lot of laughter and talk seemed to flow easier, after getting to know the more vulgar sides of The Avengers’ humor that Cards Against Humanity had brought out. You were astounded they even played it regularly, to be completely honest. 

What caught your eye about Loki, though, was how exceedingly unimpressed he looked to be with the game. He refused to actually play, choosing instead to people watch and read. From the few bits of attempted persuasion you had heard from Thor, Loki’s presence tonight didn’t appear to be his own decision.

His attitude made you bristle, and in that moment your had been reminded of the way your mother used to ridicule you for being negative in such a way, especially about ‘spending time with your loved ones’. At the same time though, you related to how Loki seemed to be feeling. It was conflicting and you weren’t particularly fond of it.

After the game had wrapped up and the group had begun to file out of the common room, you found yourself caught walking beside Loki, who was grumbling about how his night had been wasted. Already on edge, you blurted without thinking, “Maybe it wouldn’t have been a waste if you actually bothered to appreciate it.” The incredulous look he gave you somehow got you on the defensive, and without any forethought, you kept rambling, “if you go into these things determined to be a pissy toddler, you’re not going to get anything productive out of it by the time it’s over. So, yes, your night was wasted, but that’s on you.” 

Loki opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and walked past you, refusing to dignify your comment with a response, but you heard him mutter “the nerve,” under his breath as he walked away. You’d felt a little guilty, but he didn’t seem hurt by it, so you let it go. Wonderful first impression.

After that, though, you observed that he seemed to make a point to be snarky with you anytime the opportunity presented itself. He was never outright mean, but he was witty and had a sharp tongue. The fact that it didn’t deter you at all, though, had slowly resulted in him loosening up. 

You were relatively unphased by the God, seeing as you had bigger issues in your life and he wasn’t presenting himself to be anything more than vexing on occasion. Well, relatively unphased by him except for how you increasingly became more timid around him, reasons unbeknownst to you. 

Over the next few weeks, him loosening up made way for the two of you to fall into a more comfortable routine, but even so, you weren’t sure how to break your friendship past the surface level, seeing as your best wit, the kind that the two of you got along best over, the kind you’d given him the day you had met, was always impulsive and accidental. It didn’t leave much room for segues or lighthearted conversation. 

At some point, though, It seemed he’d caught on to how you’d be more prone to such quips whenever you felt tense and defensive, and after one particular snide comment from you he’d responded by simply chuckling and calling you ‘little spitfire.’ You weren’t opposed to the nickname by any means, but you didn’t exactly appreciate how much it had made you blush, or how Loki noticed it made you blush. Suddenly, you were hearing it far more often.

The following morning, or, well, a few hours after your run-in with Loki in the kitchen, you awoke feeling groggy as ever. Seems those few hours of sleep weren’t enough. How you were going to manage to stifle your irritability today, you weren’t sure. Thank goodness it was the weekend, at least. You couldn’t fathom going to work in the lab in this state. Trading your pajamas with a thin white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, you quickly made your way into the kitchen. 

This time around, coffee was your drink of choice. As it was brewing, you ran your hands through your hair and back down to rub your face. You weren’t really sure what you wanted to do today, seeing as you didn’t have much mental capacity for anything that required brainpower, but after flipping through a few different options to waste the day with in your head, you settled on reading. 

You’d swung back by your room to grab the first book from a series you loved as a young teen, and made your way to the library to settle into the couch and read it, stretching your legs across the cushions and laying on your back.

It was some fantasy romance novel, and the main character was incredibly stupid. You couldn’t help but lovingly tear apart the poor logic she’d had. If you discovered this book series for the first time today, you’d likely find yourself disliking it; the writing was poor and the Chosen One plotline wasn’t your cup of tea. But what was one to do? Twelve year old you was enamored with the series and it, unfortunately, became a piece of you. 

As you let yourself zone in to the worldbuilding and awkward remarks the main character would make, you felt the world around you slowly haze into nothing, as the words on the page began to feel less like words and you felt more like you were in the novel itself. 

You rarely allowed yourself to read like this, completely engrossed in the novel and completely oblivious to your outside surroundings. Which, you suppose, is why you didn’t hear the muffled sound of an airhorn going off somewhere down the hall. And also why you hadn’t realized Loki had stormed into the Library only moments later. Additionally why you’d been oblivious to his aggressive body language, the way he leaned against the doorway in contemplation, eyes locked on you.

Honestly, you’d been particularly distracted by the current scene unfolding in your book. The love interest held the main character in his arms bridal style, while they were trying to figure out a puzzle of sorts. She’d needed to be held that way because the riddle they were working with had mentioned something about her ‘needing to be in between the ground and the sky’. 

While in his arms, she’d gotten distracted looking at him, and found herself smiling lopsidedly. Or, rather, he found her smiling at him. He’d asked her what she was thinking about that had her smiling in that way, and she refused to enlighten him. ‘Need I remind you, you are in prime tickling position, and there’s no escape. Tell me.’ was what he’d quipped back. That part got you to squirm every time.

Still engrossed in the book, you shifted your posture, pressing yourself a little further into the couch, and bit your lip, a blush spreading across your cheeks. Loki had unfortunately seen this, and had then made his decision to approach you, practically stomping across the floor to where you lay on the couch. Grabbing the book from your hands and lifting it above his head, you yelped in surprise and covered your mouth with one hand while your blush deepened, only just noticing his presence in the room.

You knit your brows together, looking up at him as you lowered your hand and opened your mouth to ask what was that for? The look on his face in which he was peering down at you with, though, that off-putting smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes, had led you to ask a different question. “...why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You truly believe attempting such a weak prank, on The God of Mischief, no less, was an intelligent play?” 

“Loki? I hate to tell you this, since you seem to have hung your hopes and dreams on the notion that I do, but unfortunately, bud, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I thoroughly doubt that, spitfire. But, no mind. It seems I’ve happened upon something far more intriguing that requires my immediate attention.” Confusion etched onto your face, you watched curiously as he lowered his arm, the one that contained your book in it’s hand, only for the realization to hit you like a truck. He’d seen you blush only moments earlier.

No.

Hell no.

He’s about to read that page, isn’t he? 

Dread began to settle into your chest, and without any true thought going into it, you leaped up to try and wrangle the book from his hands, throw him off balance, make him lose the page, something, but he seemed unfazed as he pushed you back onto the couch in the same spot you’d been in before.

Seemingly deciding one hand wouldn’t be enough to keep you in place where you lay, he settled for sitting on your upper legs to get the job done. You’d sat up as well as you could, and a small smile adorned his face as he bore witness to your struggle attempting to prevent his next actions. Simply playing your little game and letting you attempt to wrestle with the one free hand he had, he extended his arm over his head once again fought to contain his chuckle at the high-pitched grunt of frustration that had left your lips.

“My, you feisty thing. What might you be trying to prevent me from discovering here?” He was going to try to incapacitate you further, but quickly, he’d realized that simple nickname had all but done it for him. You squeaked loudly and immediately stopped struggling, practically collapsing into the couch behind you and opting instead to hide your face in your hands, peeking your eyes out to look at him between your fingers as a few strained giggles bubbled from your mouth. Loki could only imagine the blush had gotten worse since it first appeared on your cheeks.

Impulsively, he’d let out a laugh and lowered himself closer to your face, leaning on his free hand, which was now beside your head. Voice barely above a whisper, he uttered, “You are in trouble.”

You giggled again, and he sat upright, straightening his posture.  He brought his arm that was holding the book down once more, now at reading level. You instantly lunged for it again, only for him to glare at you and use his free hand to push against your shoulder, successfully getting you lying on the couch flat on your back yet again. After threatening to use his magic if you refused to just sit still for a minute, you’d finally half-accepted your fate and stopped trying to fight him, instead crossing your arms and trying to talk him out of it.

“Put it down Loki! Please.”  He glanced over once, otherwise pretending not to hear you as his eyes flitted over the page, trying to unravel where exactly you had wound up so flustered. 

Despite it being a poorly written novel, and wracked with an excessive amount of cliche, he hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary, unless you got flustered at even the idea of physical contact. Which, looking over at you now, he supposed wouldn’t really be too far off. He’d never seen you red like this, but no. You wouldn’t be practically fighting for your life over the fact a girl was being held in someone’s arms.

As he read a bit farther, he caught it, and a small smile graced his face once again. It was the boy’s threat. His threat to tickle her. Somehow, tickling being something that flustered you felt fitting to him, and he was more than prepared to use it against you, as payback for that little stunt that sent him careening into the library in the first place. 

He tossed the book onto the floor, and your heart was racing. You were screwed. The devious smile on his face told you everything.

“Well, it appears I’ve found you out, haven’t I?” You shook your head rapidly, quietly managing to ask if he’d please get off you now, to which he’d responded, “Oh, darling, I have hardly begun with you. Now, allow me to ask again; You truly believe attempting such a weak prank, on The God of Mischief, was an intelligent play?”

“Is that what this whole ordeal is about?! I didn’t even do anything!” you yelled and partially sat up, bringing your hands behind you and leaning on them for support. You felt incredibly nervous, and were partially trying to make your point, partially trying to keep the conversation going as to avoid the inevitable. But, he gave you an accusatory look, and gods, you knew your face was betraying you. You could feel that stupid guilty smile creeping onto your face again. That smile had lost you so many arguments. 

“Wrong. That little look on your face is quite telling. You have guilty written all over you.” You groaned in frustration.

“It’s not something I can control, Loki! My smile is irrelevant to my innocence!”

You didn’t know what prank he was talking about, but it seems as though if you didn’t figure it out fast, Loki would unleash his wrath on you. While you were stuck. Of course this is somehow the life you’d gotten yourself into, being trapped underneath a god who was deadset on pinning something on you that you had nothing to do with. Loki grasped both your wrists in his hands, tugging them towards his chest, and glared at you.

“What, exactly, led you to believe you’d get away with it? That I wouldn’t come seeking you out, finding leverage to exact my revenge with?” Your smile grew wider, to your dismay. You kicked against the couch cushions, still trying to throw him off, but said nothing in an attempt to keep him monologuing.

“Or, maybe, you were expecting that. Perhaps you eagerly hoped I would come after you? Something as blatant as what you did will not go without discipline, little spitfire, surely you knew that.” You being unable to hide your face through this ordeal made it worse, and you were pretty sure Loki was flustering the life out of you on purpose. He could see the flame that engulfed your cheeks, there was no way he couldn’t.

“Loki. I don’t know what you think I’m trying to get away with. I don’t even know what happened.” You breathed out desperately, trying to plead your case, and tugging at your wrists with all your strength. 

Unfortunately for you, your ‘strength’ barely held a candle to his. The gravity of the situation began to set in, and nervous excitement bloomed in your chest. This was borderline mortifying, but you reasoned that despite that, you’d live.

You knew Loki wasn’t judging you, and playfulness like this wasn’t something you had growing up. You weren’t entirely too eager to dismiss it so quickly, now that it’d found it’s way into your lap for what felt like the first time. Accepting your fate, you stopped sitting up and let yourself fall back into the couch with a grunt.

“Playing this ignorant isn’t assisting you, my dear. Your feeble attempts to hide the truth is precisely what is giving you away. You should know better than to lie to the God of Lies himself.” 

He placed both of your wrists in his right hand and tugged them above your head, effectively pinning you. Okay, so maybe you’d accepted your fate, but your self preservation kicked in anyway. You fought with new vigor, trying to squirm away, throw him off you, or anything that would get him to not fluster the ever living hell out of you like you knew he was about to, but all to no avail.

In the mess of it all, you’d made a comment that was more of a question about how he would know what the truth looks like if he’s such a God at lying, but it was one of your weaker retorts and it fell on deaf ears as the poised his free hand over the middle of your stomach and lowered it, his fingertips gently resting there. Giggling already, you tried to suck in your stomach, but it was proving to be a futile attempt at avoidance. His smile only grew.

“You’re going to be incredibly sorry, once I’ve tickled you to pieces. Ah, how had your book-boy worded it? That’s right. You, little minx, are in prime tickling position, and there is no escape.” He winked. Your face burned hotter, somehow. Then, his hands on your stomach sprung into action, clawing at the sensitive skin he found there, and you immediately squealed, slamming the back of your head against the couch and falling into high pitched giggles as he used feather light touches to torment you. 

“Oho, this is undoubtedly going to get worse for you, if you’re already giggling this much. I’m hardly even touching you.” He tutted and added, “You poor, ticklish little thing.” 

“shuhut UHUP!” Your giggles had gone up an octave after his commentary, and Loki decided to change tactics, switching to pinching and squeezing at your sides, moving his hands up and down the length of your torso. 

Your giggle fit had noticeably decreased, but he happened to dig into a spot just above your hip, and seeing you violently jerk, chose to keep his hand there. Squeezing rapidly and digging into the sensitive skin, he relished in the squeals and loud laughter it extracted from you. You tried fruitlessly to tug your arms down and protect yourself from his ticklish onslaught, but it was a fruitless endeavor. As you began to run out of breath he rested his hand for a moment, letting you breathe.

“Lohohoki!” You whined, a few residual giggles spilling out.

“Yes?” he traded his hands, the one previously holding your wrists now stilled at your hip, ready to jump into action on your other side, and the old tickling hand now keeping your wrists in place.

“This is freaking stupid.” You mumbled bashfully, avoiding eye contact. You hated that you were enjoying his little game, and even moreso, you hated that he knew you were. 

“Hm, agreed. It was quite reckless and, to use your own words, ‘stupid’ of you to allow me such dangerous information.” You glared at him and tugged on your wrists for emphasis.

“As you can see here, good sir, I didn’t allow shit!” You sucked in a breath at the gleam in his eye resulting from your comment. 

“That’s pretty bold language for someone so…devastatingly ticklish. And in such a helpless position at that.” Without warning, his hand that lay at your other hip began squeezing at a rapid speed, and you burst into laughter once more, thrashing against his hold. That reaction didn’t seem sufficient for him, though, and he released your wrists in favor of using both hands to now drill his thumbs into your hips. 

You shrieked, and your laughter became louder and more frantic, but Loki was keenly aware of your choice to hide your face instead of fight off his hands, seeing as your first move was to grab a nearby throw pillow and wrap your arms around it, crushing it to your face. You weren’t even trying to stop him. He chuckled. 

“Don’t believe I’ve failed to notice your lack of resistance to me. Silly girl, leaving yourself vulnerable like this.” 

Testing just how much you’d allow him to get away with, he left your hips alone, making both of his hands into little claws and ever so gently trailing his fingertips along your torso. Dragging up the length your sides and nearing your ribcage elicited a squeak, and he took note of how your breathy giggles seemed to increase in volume the higher up he got.

“Lohoki, we are in a frEHEAKING librahary!!” You squealed when he reached your underarms, and began lightly scratching at the sensitive skin, giggles now pouring out uninterruptedly. “Yohou’re supposed to behe quiet in libraries!!” Your words were heavily muffled by the pillow, but he seemed to hear you fine.

“Darling, the severity of your laughter is not my responsibility. You have a pillow to reduce the noise, do you not?” He continued his attack in that same spot, gently wiggling his fingers into the hollows, but in an attempt to get more laughter from you, he began to drill into the spot just above your highest ribs. Your giggles grew to soft laughter, and your grip around the pillow tightened as you pressed it harder into your face.

He paused, his hands wandering downwards once more, as he was trying to give you another breather. He lightly traced circles along your ribcage, attempting to pinpoint where you seemed most sensitive. The light touches sent ticklish shocks through your body, and it was nearly unbearable, how gentle he was being. You began to stomp your feet against the couch cushions behind him, but had yet to make any move to stop him, despite unsuccessfully twisting and turning in your place beneath him.

Observing how your giggles got louder the higher up your ribs his fingertips went, he settled his hands into little claws on the front middle of your upper ribs. shit. You tensed, but before you could make a move, he quickly began drilling into the spot. Gods, it was awful. You had no idea just how bad that spot was, how sensitive your ribs were, until that split-second of a moment where he dug in.

If the deafening screech that escaped your lips afterward wasn’t what caught him off guard, it was certainly when you flung yourself upwards and slammed the pillow into his face at full force despite having been completely docile moments before. It hadn’t moved him from where he sat, but he did pause for a moment, chuckling.

He stilled his fingers, but kept them poised at the spot, smiling down at you after you sheepishly brought the pillow down and apologized for the outburst, looking down and avoiding eye contact.

“Now, what ever could have brought on a reaction such as that, little thing?”

With a giggle, you answered, “you knohow what.”

“Well, I’m most certainly going to be doing that again,” he mused.

You dared a peek at him, smiling, and meekly asked, “Can you pause for a second, though?” Loki wasn’t entirely able to piece together why you’d asked, seeing as you seemed to be enjoying yourself, but he decided to play it safe and retract his fingers, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Still, though, he’d made a point not to get up from his spot, as to allude to the fact that we’re not done here. He found it rather cute, how you seemed perfectly fine with that notion. He raised an eyebrow at you, willing you to say what was on your mind.

“What exactly was the prank?” Loki bore an incredulous look on his face. He sighed, but took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I can’t decipher exactly how many tricks you have up your sleeve if you’re unable to recall mine, but the one that started this whole mess was the airhorn duct-taped to the office chair in my bedroom. You clever thing.” laughter tumbled out of your mouth, and he took that as an admission to guilt. Continuing, he added, “I was distracted reading and didn’t notice it. I sat in my chair, and after that wretched noise went off I came seeking the revenge I so dearly deserved.”

“I am soho sorry,” you started, and Loki tilted his head slightly. Apologizing for it so easily? “Buhut I am not the one that did that. One, I have never even attempted a prank on anyone in this tower, two, I am not sneaky enough to pull a stunt like that off, and 3, even if I was, there’s no way I’d actually believe you’d fall for one that obvious, that’s just stuhupid!”

As Loki stared at you, he realized you made a good point, but now you were laughing at him. You’d called his brief lack of attention stupid. He simply would not let that go.

“You’re getting awfully cheeky there, considering how easily I’m able to do this.” he slammed the pillow back into your face, using it as leverage to shove you back down against the couch, and immediately attacked that spot on your ribs that had previously made you shriek.

And shriek you did. Laughter exploded from your chest, and you tried using the pillow to whack his face, but after a moment he flung it across the room and continued his attack. Not actually pushing him away but feeling the need to retaliate somehow, you had a death grip on his wrists as your feet were once again stomping behind him.

He was relentless, harshly working his fingertips into every crevice. When he hit that one specific rib, and attacked the same spot on your other side simultaneously, your laughter fell silent, and you let the ticklish feeling overtake you as you went limp. After a few more moments, he finally let up, letting you breathe and standing up. Reaching a hand out to help you stand, you took it, but picked your book up off the floor on your way up.

Looking at the cover of the book, he asked, “What exactly is the appeal of such a cliche-ridden novel?”

“I will have you know my twelve year old self was in love with the main love interests’ brother. I was a hopeless romantic..” quickly getting yourself into a long-winded conversation about the stupid things about the book your younger self enjoyed, you’d slowly evolved into rambling about the character you used to have such a big crush on.

Halfway through, some part of your brain clicked and you’d realized a large chunk of your ramblings were also traits Loki shared with this fictional character...which explained a lot. Your newfound timidness around him began to make a lot more sense. Once you’d caught onto that little fact, though, you abruptly stopped talking about it. 

“Seems you might have a type, spitfire,” he winked at you, and you realized with a blush that he’d caught on as well. You...were definitely not going to be addressing this any time soon.

“Um.” You quickly averted your gaze, refusing to look at him, and settled yourself into a seated position onto the couch and opened your book back to that godforsaken scene that had all but gotten you into this whole mess. “I’m gonna finish my book now.” 

“Mind if I join you?” Willing yourself to look at him, you saw that he had conjured a book of his own in his hands. You gestured to the seat next to you, and smiled lightly to yourself as he settled in too. Feeling a bit confident, you turned yourself to face away from him, leaning your back against his arm and pulled your knees up to lay the book on.

It was a comfortable silence that fell between the two of you as you both read the rest of the afternoon away. You eventually finished your book and set it down, but not yet wanting to get up, you let yourself take a nap leaning against the god and resting your head on the back of the couch.