#and then i noticed. miles hoodie is purple. which is a color almost entirely reserved for prowler.

[southern--downpour]

GOD SPIDERVERSE IS SO FUCKING GOOD

[beigehearts]

The Price of Self Respect

this is part one of a series of yandere chrollo x fem!reader. this story will contain explicit content. Warnings at the beginning of the chapter. Please send me requests if you wish to for hxh characters and scenarios! ❤

PART I Read part two here!  CW: mentions of death, murder, and gore 1,730 words

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It had been many days since you had received an assignment as a hunter. At this point you would have taken a request to open a pickle jar. You had an agent who sourced your jobs through to you that way no one could know your identity. Your agent barely knows your identity outside of your phone number. While you are no where near as infamous as the Zoldyck Family- you definitely are not unknown. “The Creator” is what most people would refer to you as- quite fitting for your ability. Specialists are not as scarce as people make them out to be; a specialist who utilizes their ability as best as they can is scarce. You conjure a pencil, and you can draw anything into existence. Your nen concentrates in your hand and you can create life (or at least a husk of life). Drawing animals or weapons, even humans (who aren’t quite sentient) earned you your high respect as a hunter.

You gaze out of the window at the quiet streets of a city you’ve never travelled to. While the hotel is large and towers over the town, it is probably the biggest building for miles. Bzzzz. You turn towards your bed and see your phone screen is lit up. Picking up the phone you see a single message from the only saved number on your phone.  York New. 14:00. 1278 Pearl Street. G Watanabe- Room 207.  You scroll down to see the status of the person. Alive. Wanted Dead. 7 Days. Employer ---

A smile graced your lips knowing that you finally have a job. While town hopping and sight seeing for the past few weeks was a nice rst, you can’t just halt your income. You enjoy your job anyway so the money is a bonus. Ill pack in the morning you think to yourself, once you land in York New you may have some extra time to research your target. 

The plane ride was smooth and quite comforting- you paid for first class. While you could use your hunter card to be priority seating, it leaves a trace of where you’ve been. Plus, you’ll be getting paid soon enough and the 12 hour plane ride in first class would be nothing compared to the fat check that would be wired to your account. Murder is expensive you know. 

Stepping out of the taxi, the driver gets out and opens the trunk for you. You grab your one small backpack filled with nothing but snacks- drawn snacks are not particularly tasty. Just because you can create it doesn’t mean it’s true to the real deal. You jog towards the doors, fat rain drops assaulting you meanwhile. You get your room key under for the room you reserved under an alias and make your way to the elevator. You press the button to go up and when the elevator reaches your floor it sounds a satisfying ‘ding’ and the doors open almost soundlessly. You stepped into the confined space and to your surprise a man steps in with you. You hadn’t even sensed him nearby, it seemed as if he just popped into reality. 

He’s tall, is the first thing you think when you look at him. Not necessarily tall as in feet wise (though he definitely had quite a few inches on you) but his aura and the way he carried himself made it seem as if he towered you. The corner of his lips turn upwards and suddenly he doesn’t seem so intimidating. It’s as if he was dragged back down to earth. 

“Good morning, awful weather it seems.” The man says with a chuckle. You take a moment to drink in all of him. His black hair is somewhat messy, a middle part with water dripping down a few strands. A bandage is wrapped around his forehead and you wonder if it’s an injury or a fashion statement. A large fur coat cover most of his body, you’re only able to capture a glimpse of a white button up shirt at his neck. 

“Terrible. My flight almost had an emergency landing.” You groan, recalling your annoyance when the captain announced this over the speakers.

“Ah so you just got in today? I got into York New about a week ago. What are you here for?” 

Your eyes travel to his and you notice that they’re unusually large while seeming to only make him more attractive. “I’m on a work trip, though I shouldn’t be here long.”  His lips stretch a little further into something of a grin, “What a coincidence, I’m here on business as well.” 

The elevator dings and you give a quick goodbye, not necessarily because you didn’t like talking to him but because you wanted to take a nice warm shower. You sashay out of the elevator, and the back of your neck tingles, you can tell that his eyes are boring into your back.

You drop your bag onto your bed and wander over to the mirror. Looking at you in the mirror is yourself. Though you never seem to recognize this person as you. You pose in different angles but can’t find one that makes you like yourself. You grab the chub of your stomach and groan hopelessly. A world renown hunter who has killed the unkillable is staring at herself in the mirror and grimacing. You remind yourself that you’re one of the strongest specialists out there and you shouldn’t be critiquing yourself. 

A day passed and your deadline is growing nearer. You draw your outfit for the day, and put on the jeans, hoodie, and heels that were super comfortable thanks to your nen. An assassin has to look good as well as kill. Your rented car waits for you in the hotel garage and when you finally make your way down there, you do a onceover of the car. There are no signs of foul play, tracking, or marking so you hop into the drivers seat comfortably. Once the car is started your phone buzzes. 

+ $2000 to your account message attached: get his pass for the auction and send it to client

You nod to yourself, you had completely forgotten about the auction. Of course you were supposed to kill a member of the mafia during the auction. How could you not have made that connection. While you are intelligent, you wouldn’t say you’re smart. Once you arrive at the hotel your target is staying at, you book a room despite the fact you will not be using it for long. In the hotel room you draw a dress that makes you look like a model, all you need is to look good and your nen for this mission, this goes for most missions.

Each minute on the clock seems to last hours, you need to leave at 01:30, in order to complete your mission at 2. This is the part you hate the most, laying on the hotel bed listening to the clock tick and tick and tick. It feels almost like the clock is mocking you, and sometimes you want to just break it. Though despite this you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting down every minute until the clock strikes 1:30. 

The last mocking tick sound rings and you get up quickly. Walking confidently out of the room and down the large and foolishly elegant hall. You make your way to the elevators where you had a run in with that man and go down to the second floor seeing as you were residing on the fourteenth. The second floor was reserved for the mafia only, many families used this hotel to be near the auction. 

The elevator opens up and you examine the hall. It is much different than the one where your room is. Lights are dimmer and the color pallet of the hall was that of red and black where as yours was blue and white. You step out onto the marble floors and your heels click against the cold surface. Something’s not right. Something is very wrong, very out of place. You can smell it. The smell of blood. 

207 is closer to the end of the hallway than it is to the elevators. The lights are completely off at the end of the hallway as well. With each step towards the room of your target the lights get dimmer until there is no light. You halt and look at the room with gold numbers on it stating ‘207′. The door is cracked and you approach it cautiously. You push the door open and see your target laying on the ground in hundreds of pieces, it’s a bloody mess.

A man stands in front of the window that is the entire wall, his form dark. Now the only sound present is that of the rain pounding against the glass of the window. He turns towards you, and you quickly recognize the large fur jacket. It’s the man from the elevator, his coat is open and he’s shirtless, but covered in blood. His forehead is uncovered by the bandage that was on him previously, revealing a purple cross. His demeanor is still friendly and inviting but something is different about his eyes. 

He smiles and for some reason you feel drawn to him, so you take a step forward. “I’ve been waiting y/n.” 

You swallow any sense of fear you have and nod, “Oh you have?” 

“Of course, I thought I would make your job easier for you.” He chuckles just like he did in the elevator, as if he didn’t just commit an atrocity. But who are you to judge? “Don’t worry, I’ll still be paying you every jenny of what was promised.” 

Your head cocks to the side “So you’re my client?” He nods in response. 

“And I got his pass to the auction so I would say you did a pretty good job of completing your mission.” He waves the pass at you as proof. 

“Can I have the pleasure of knowing your name since you know mine?” You question.

He nods again, “Chrollo is my name. You were commissioned by the spiders.” 

The spiders... It quickly clicks in your head. The phantom troupe. Which means, in front of you stands the leader of the Phantom Troupe.

“It’s nice to meet you Chrollo.” 

[angelatmidnight1]

oh wow, I really loved reading through your mirage/wattson fic, its so well written and adorable and it kind of put a smile on my face the whole time :) I was wondering if you could write something with wraith and wattson? Maybe wattson getting wraith cuz shes usually more quiet and needs to loosen up a bit? Or for instance, the other way around- wraith getting wattson, which catches her by surprise since she never in a lifetime would think that the reserved wraith would have this playful side

Can You Keep A Straight Face?

The voices in Wraith’s head have been giving her a hard time and she’s become more reclusive than usual. She has managed to push everyone away except for Wattson, who is determined to be her light at the end of the tunnel. The Legends have time off away from the games and it is the perfect opportunity for the engineer to talk to the mysterious skirmisher. While they spend time together, Wattson hears a song on the radio that she wants Wraith to explain to her. Wraith tells Wattson what a ‘poker face’ is and the engineer takes it upon herself to explore the meaning further. Wraith always says that nothing phases her, but is that really true? Natalie wants to know for sure and, well, let’s say Renee saw this coming a mile away.

“Tea?”

Wattson tentatively pushed the mug of dark liquid towards the skirmisher across from her. The mug was a purple, 16 ounce galaxy themed mug that Natalie bought especially for Renee. The black tea inside the mug was prepared with two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk, made exactly the way Wraith preferred. Wattson didn’t know a lot about Wraith but she did catch her drinking tea on the occasion. This prompted the engineer to seek out a mug that matched Wraith’s theme and, at least in her opinion, the galaxy mug fit her perfectly. Wraith, however, didn’t look up when the mug was pushed in front of her. She was staring at the wall across from her with a distant look in her pale eyes. Wattson frowned; the engineer knew that the voices kept her safe in the Apex Games, but she wasn’t sure if she could say the same thing outside the arena. There weren’t any games scheduled in at least three days and, clad in her oversized black hoodie and snug fitting jeans, Wraith looked so small and alone. Wattson waited to see if her friend would acknowledge her but, when the skirmisher began to anxiously tug at the cuffs on her sleeve, she leaned forward and placed her hand on her arm. “...Renee?”

Wraith flinched and accidentally brought her knee up to the table with a loud bang. The entire table shook and threatened to spill the contents of her mug. Wattson jumped away with a squeak and eyed her worriedly once she finally returned her gaze. The skirmisher was rubbing her knee with a pained expression on her face and sighed quietly. “Sorry..” Wraith’s voice barely qualified as a whisper and she finally took notice of the hot tea in front of her. “I’m not thirsty, Natalie. Thanks though.”

“Oh…” Natalie answered sadly as she picked up the mug and brought it to the middle of the table. The last thing she wanted was the tea to go flying if something or someone startled her again. “Well, how about chocolate cake then? I made some this morning.” Wattson tried to sound happy again as she bounded over to the nearby countertop. The chocolate cake was encased in a cake pan but the engineer cut two slices out of it ahead of time. Right before she could take the lid off, however, Wraith shook her head and pulled her sleeves over her hands. “No thank you.” She murmured, her fingers finding the soft cotton material and curling into it. Wattson turned back around and could not hide the sadness on her face this time.

“But you love chocolate cake. It’s good, I promise! Elliott and Octavio already had a slice.” She responded as she picked the cake pan up and brought it over to her anyway. Wraith’s lip curled into a very, very faint smile once the dessert was in front of her. There were, indeed, two slices missing from another side of the cake. 

“I don’t think there’s any food that Elliott wouldn’t eat. That’s probably why the fridge tends to be empty.” Wraith answered with a quiet chuckle that thrilled Wattson to no end. Smiles were rare for the skirmisher, but laughter? Those were worth more than gold. The smile disappeared almost as soon as it appeared but it didn’t deter the engineer. Everyone had to start somewhere, right? 

“Well, don’t just take their word for it.” Natalie chirped, popping the lid off of the cake pan and letting the sweet aroma of chocolate fill the air. “Let me get you a slice!”

The pair sat in comfortable silence as they ate their cake in the small kitchen. Wraith even elected to drink the tea to go along with her cake and had a small, content smile on her face. “The cake is good, Natalie.” The skirmisher offered after a few more minutes of silence. “The tea is too. Not too sweet and not totally bitter.”

“I’m glad you like it. We can have tea like this whenever you want. Did you know that there’s even some teas that change color? It’s amazing!” Natalie spoke excitedly and earned another quiet chuckle from the raven haired woman.

“No, I didn’t know that. We’ll have to try it sometime.” 

Wattson beamed and finished off the last few bites of her cake. “Then we will. It’s decided!” She declared with two thumbs up. Renee nodded and went back to quietly eating her cake. In the course of listening to the white noise inside the dropship, a thought popped up in Natalie’s mind, though she was hesitant to breathe life into it. She let the thought run laps in her head before deciding, even more hesitantly, to put a voice behind it. 

“Renee?”

Wraith looked up and put her mug down on its matching plate. “Yes?”

“Um..” The engineer looked down at her hands and took a breath before looking at her. “I just want to say that if you ever need someone to talk to, or just sit with, I’d be more than happy to help. I know that your...um…” Wattson trailed off and felt her heart pound in her chest. Maybe it was better to stop talking, but something in her told her to keep going. “Whenever we’re on a team together, and you know that someone is aiming at you? Those voices? I understand that they help keep you safe. I just wanna tell you that there isn’t one person on this ship who wouldn’t do the same thing.” Natalie offered with a small, nervous smile, praying to whatever god was listening that she communicated the message in the most efficient way possible. Wraith blinked and pushed the crumbs around on her plate, processing each word the engineer said to her. Natalie felt worry grip her insides when the skirmisher didn’t respond right away. What if she upset her? What if she got up and decided not to talk to her again? The worries rose all the way to her neck and threatened to choke her, but they were quelled by Wraith’s grateful glance. 

“Thank you, Natalie. I’ve learned to live with the voices. They help remind me who I am and what I need to find, but...I appreciate your concern.” Renee replied in a soft voice but, this time, her smile was genuine. 

Wattson squeed and unintentionally knocked her chair over as she ran over to give Wraith a hug. She was careful in how she hugged her for a couple of reasons: One, she didn’t know if Wraith even liked hugs. And two, Wraith was a little shorter and smaller than she was, and she didn’t want to suffocate her. So, with that in mind, the engineer gently wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders. Wraith flinched and stood in her hold awkwardly, prompting the blond to release her. “Any time, mon ami~. Hey, do you like music? Here we are sitting in this quiet ship when we could be rocking out to some tunes.” Natalie giggled as she skipped back over to a different part of the counter, standing in front of her portable radio. It was small, round, orange, and had little lightning bolt stickers on the side. Octavio got it for her and spray painted it and the sight made a little blush dust her cheeks. Wraith watched Natalie press various buttons before an upbeat, yet unfamiliar melody sounded from the little device. “I don’t listen to music too often.” The skirmisher admitted with a light shrug of her shoulders. “I guess anything would be fine with me.”

“Got it~!” Wattson asserted happily as she flipped through the different stations. Some songs were too loud and others made her blush but, after a few more changes, the engineer found one that made her smile. “Oooh, I like this one. Come on, Renee, come dance with me!” Wattson demanded with a grin, not waiting for an answer as she ran over and pulled the woman to her feet. Wraith suddenly looked uncomfortable and didn’t move from the spot she was pulled to. “I don’t know how to dance, Natalie.” She mumbled, crossing her arms against her chest. By now, Natalie was swaying to the beat and took a hold of the woman’s wrists. “It’s easy! I’ll show you.” She giggled as she lightly pulled Wraith along to make her sway to the beat along with her.

While the pair, mainly Wattson, danced along to the beat of the song, the engineer raised a brow and turned towards Wraith. “Renee? What’s a...po-ker face?” She questioned, saying the term slowly and letting go of her friend’s wrists. Renee retreated to her seat once freed from Natalie’s grasp. “A poker face is a blank facial expression. You’re not smiling, but you’re not frowning either. It helps when you’re playing card games, like poker, because the person you’re playing against can’t tell what cards you have because your face doesn’t give it away. This is what Elliott tells me anyway.” She explained with her foot unconsciously tapping to the beat. Wattson slowly nodded before perking back up and pulling up a seat beside the skirmisher. “So, poker faces are kind of what you have, right? I mean, when we fight together, you always look so composed. Even if we’re getting shot at.”

Wraith thought about it and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, I suppose you could say that.” She confirmed with a small nod, adding,  “ Nothing really phases me anymore.”  

“So even something scary happens, or maybe something funny, it won’t affect you?” Natalie asked curiously with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Wraith shook her head and gave the engineer a strange look as she stepped closer to her. Without any warning, Wattson gently poked the skirmisher’s cheeks and giggled as she reeled away. 

“Why did you do that?” Wraith grunted and rubbed both sides of her face. 

“I’m doing what the song says! Poke-her face. But you’re the strongest woman I know. So you should be able to keep up a poker face, oui?” Wattson grinned, a rush of playfulness coming over her as she booped her nose. The skirmisher groaned and swatted at her hand but Natalie kept coming back. 

“Stop, Nat...that’s not even what the song means--” Wraith’s breath hitched as the engineer’s pokes wandered to her sides. She sharply recoiled out of Wattson’s reach and the voices in her head started whispering: 

You’re not safe there. 

Danger, move!

Wattson blinked at the conflicted look on her friend’s face. “Renee?” She whimpered as she took a slow step forward. “I didn’t mean to--”

The second Wattson approached her, Wraith turned around and phased out of the room, leaving a dejected engineer behind.  

It was true that Wraith’s voices kept her safe by warning her of impending doom. A sniper having her in their sights, a punch about to be thrown her way...she always knew what was about to happen to her. Having that knowledge kept her one step ahead of any opponent before her. An extension of keeping her safe, however, also included warning if someone tried to tickle her. The voices added this extra layer of precaution because the skirmisher was both ridiculously ticklish and friends with the only one brave enough to touch her, besides Wattson that is: Elliott Witt. Wraith nearly broke Mirage’s arm the first and only time he decided to tickle her. He just wanted to make a pretty girl smile, he said, but Wraith made him swear on everything he loved that he’d never try a stunt like that again. Elliott was too frightened to refuse and never brought it up again. But now, alone in her room, Wraith pressed her hand against the spot that Wattson poked and shuddered at the lingering ticklish sensation. She didn’t like being ticklish; it made her feel weak. Powerless. There wasn’t a bullet large enough or a knife sharp enough to break her composure, so why did a poke to her side or a scribble on her neck force her to laugh? The skirmisher growled and stared at the ground but then she thought about Wattson. Wattson didn’t tickle her to make her feel weak, she just wanted her to smile. Like Elliott did. Wraith felt a little guilty for leaving her behind the way she did. But maybe, she thought, she’d go back and show the engineer how to really keep a ‘poker face’, just like hers. Wraith smirked and set a portal from her room back to the kitchen. 

Wattson sniffled and rubbed her eyes as she put the plates and mug in the cupboards. She blew it. She had one opportunity to become better friends with Wraith and she mucked it up. “Tu es un idiot (You’re an idiot)..” She cursed aloud, finding her chair and burying her face into her hands. She started to cry and didn’t hear the faint sound of a portal being set. Wraith heard the cries from the corner she hid in and felt even worse. She had to make this right in the only odd way she knew how. The skirmisher, a veteran in stealth, creeped over to the crying woman and grabbed her by the back of her shirt. Wattson gasped but didn’t have time to scream as Wraith pulled her into the portal that led back to her room. 

Once the pair was in Wraith’s room, the skirmisher closed the portal and released Wattson. The engineer felt a little woozy and wobbled on her legs, prompting Wraith to hold her arms to steady her. “Easy, easy. I’ve got you.” Renee whispered as she sneakily removed her scarf and bound it around Natalie’s wrists. Natalie, once her head stopped spinning, tried to look over her shoulder at the woman but she kept ducking behind her. 

“Renee? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I won’t ever touch you again. Will you please forgive me?” She pleaded as she kept trying to turn around to face her. It was difficult to do because Renee’s shorter height meant that she could just hide behind her. But another thing that was difficult, the engineer realized with alarm, was that she couldn’t pull her wrists free from whatever was holding them together. “Renee?”

“You don’t need to apologize, Natalie. I knew your every move.” Renee answered coolly, walking towards her bed with the longest end of the scarf in her hands. She gave it a hard pull and dragged the engineer along with it and, once Wattson was sitting on the mattress, she pushed her flat on her back and tied the rest of the scarf to the bed frame. Terror washed over Natalie’s face as she struggled and looked up at whom she believed was still her friend...right?

“I’m sorry!” Natalie wailed with the tears finally rolling down her cheeks. “Please don’t hurt me, Renee. I--”

“Hurt you? Natalie, you’re my friend. I’d even say you’re my best friend so long as you don’t repeat that to Elliott. I would never hurt you.” The skirmisher assured as she knelt beside her. 

Wattson blinked away what was left of her tears and opened her mouth to speak. What came out, though, was a squeak as the skirmisher tapped her sides. “Whahat--” Natalie sputtered and squealed as Wraith hooked both of her small hands around her sides and raked her fingers up and down. “Whyhyhyhy aahahahre yohohuhuh--REheheheheheheheneee!” The engineer giggled madly as Wraith quickened her tickling pace. Unlike Wraith, who wore a thicker hoodie, Wattson’s thinner Nessie shirt made it easy to literally get under her skin. 

“I thought you’d want to know how to keep a poker face, like I do. I told you that nothing phases me. Not pain, not death, not tickles.” Wraith smirked a playful, evil smirk as the realization colored Wattson’s face. The skirmisher reached under her shirt and clawed at her bare belly, drawing out squeaky cackles from the woman. “Can you say the same?” Was the last thing Renee asked before she kneaded and scratched all over Natalie’s tummy. 

Wattson shrieked and laughed loudly as Wraith’s short nails scratched along every ticklish nerve on her stomach. She pulled at the makeshift bond that held her wrists in place and tossed her head back when Renee dragged a nail around her navel. 

“NAHAHAHAhahahahaha stahahahahahahahahp!” Natalie screamed and kicked her legs against the mattress while the skirmisher continued to torment her stomach. When Wraith poked her navel, the engineer snorted and turned over on her side. “PLEHEHEHEhehehehehase dohohohohohohn’t!” 

Wraith grinned and pulled Wattson back down and pinned her kicking legs with her powerful thighs. Wattson paled; she didn’t realize how strong the skirmisher was. “Don’t what, Nat?” She chuckled as she gripped her sides again and squeezed them repeatedly. Natalie laughed harder and tried to wiggle out of her hold but Renee didn’t let her go. “DOHOHOHohohohn’t tihihihihihckle! I cahahahan’t taahahahahake ihihihihihihit!” She squeaked, arching her back when Wraith’s fingers buried back into her tummy. “RENeneneheheheheee! Plehehehheheheehehase!”

“You need to learn how to tune out sensations.” Wraith calmly explained over Wattson’s mad laughter. “It isn’t easy, but nothing worth doing ever is. I’m going to help you build up your endurance.” She concluded quietly before ducking her head down and blowing a raspberry over her navel. Natalie’s screams went up in pitch and she shut her eyes, shaking with laughter. 

“NOHOHOHOHAHA STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Renee chuckled again and blew another raspberry, causing Natalie to scream again and arch her back. “This is just one of many sensations you’ll have to learn to ignore. Try focusing on something else and Stop. Laughing.” The skirmisher accentuated each word with a poke to Wattson’s ribcage. Natalie sputtered and fell into a heavier laughing fit. Panic boiled inside of her since the skirmisher was coming awfully close to her armpits. 

“I CAHAHAN’T! IT’S TOHOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUHCH!  JAHAHAH’AHAHAHBOHOHONE! (I give up!) PLEHEHEHEHAH!” Wattson couldn’t finish her sentence and bucked as Wraith rubbed circles on her lower ribs. The engineer arched her back with another cry of laughter, yet Renee easily pushed her back down. “RENEHEHEHEHEE NOHOHOHOHOH!”

“You won’t get anywhere with that attitude. I need you to believe in yourself just like you believed in me.” Wraith smiled and tweaked her lower ribs before she started kneading her way up the ribcage. The skirmisher once believed that tickling was humiliating but now, she could see the appeal. It made her happy to see Wattson laugh, even if it was forced. “I’ll make you a deal, Nat. If you tell me where your worst spot is,” Renee began, flicking her nails up and down one rib that really made her struggle. “I might go easier on you..”

“NEHEHEHEHVER! I WOHOHOHOHN’T DOHOHOHOH IHIHIHIHT!” Natalie yelled and wriggled her trapped hands, the ticklish scratches driving her up the wall. 

Wraith smirked; that’s exactly what she hoped she would say. The skirmisher pretended to be disappointed and fluttered her fingertips against Natalie’s upper ribs. Wattson thrashed violently and shook her head in protest, her eyes snapping open and searching Wraith’s for mercy. “NOHOHOHOHT THEHEHEHRE! RENEE! HAHAHAHAVE MEHEHERCY!” She screeched, her eyes tearing up as she looked into the resolute, pale eyes of the skirmisher. Wattson wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tickle here? Or do you mean...here?” Wraith suddenly leaned forward and buried her wiggling fingers into Wattson’s exposed armpits. She made her fingers into little clawlike shapes and jabbed her nails into her skin. The engineer let out a hoarse scream and finally dipped into hysterical, high pitched laughter. 

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAH THEHEHEHRE! NOHOHOHOHT THEHEHEHREAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Where is there? You keep saying, ‘not there, not there’, but I don’t know if you mean here…” Wraith mused as she dropped her hands back down to Wattson’s upper ribs. She kneaded her thumbs into each side of the ribcage and even though she laughed hard, the skirmisher already knew that her armpits were her hot spot. “Or here?” Renee finished innocently as she took her thumbs again and stroked the very center of her armpits. 

Wattson was in stitches and helplessly flopped against the mattress, pulling down on her wrists like crazy. They didn’t move an inch and the skirmisher took one finger on each hand and slid it up and down the length of her arms, forcing another desperate wail of laughter. 

“BOHOHOHOHOHTH! NEHEHEHEHEITHER! AAAAHAHAHAHAH I DOHOHOHOHOHN’T KNOHOHOHW JUHUHUST STAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH!” Wattson managed to get all of that out in one breath before all she could do was struggle and laugh. 

Renee giggled and took both of her hands and dove onto only Natalie’s left armpit. She clawed her fingers again and scritched around the outside of the armpit, slowly following the curve to make her way back down to the center. “I’m sorry, Natalie, but I’m just not understanding you.” She snickered, sneaking in a quick pinch as she got closer and closer to the armpit. Natalie’s laughter just dipped back into manic giggles but, whenever the skirmisher flicked a nail against the hollow, she coughed out a laugh. “NOHOHOHOHOH MOHOHOHOHOHRE!” She begged, a few mirthful tears slipping down her cheeks as she desperately tried to sit up. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE! I THOHOHUGHT WEEHEHEHE WEEHEHRE FRIEHEHEHENDS!”

“We are friends, Natalie. But you’re not even trying to hold in your laugh. If this tickles that much and you really want me to stop, then why don’t you just put your arms down? I’m not the one holding them up..” Wraith flashed her an evil grin as she suddenly descended on her left armpit and tickled mercilessly. Wattson howled with another round of hysterical laughter and whipped her head around like mad. The tears kept coming, she kept pulling, and her arms stayed locked in place.

“AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH SAAHAHAHAHAH NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH!”

Renee kept tickling Natalie’s armpit until her laughter became silent. She slowly, slowly, stopped wiggling her fingers to let her breathe, but kept her hands buried in each armpit. Natalie breathed raggedly and rubbed the mirthful tears off on her shoulder, looking up at the skirmisher with a mixture of awe and gratitude. “I...didn’t know you were so mean…” She panted tiredly and tilted her head back with a groan. “Mon Dieu (My God), my stomach hurts…”

“It isn’t my fault that you can’t keep a straight face, Natalie. I’d say try better, but it wouldn’t help against me.” Wraith teased and tensed her fingers, pretending as if she was about to launch another tickle assault. She snickered when the engineer jumped and squealed, the panic returning to her in full force. “You still haven’t put your arms down?” Renee tutted, tensing her fingers again and hovering both hands over Natalie’s right armpit. “I guess that means you want me to keep tickling.” The skirmisher continued with a shrug before tauntingly wiggling her fingers over the sensitive skin.

Wattson’s eyes widened and she struggled frantically, nervous giggles already sounding from her as Wraith’s fingers grew ever so closer. “I can’t!” The engineer whined, grunting as she pulled down on the scarf as hard as she could. What was the scarf made out of? Metal? “I’m trying, Renee, and I can’t! Please! I can’t put my arms down!” She cried out desperately, giving the skirmisher puppy dog eyes as she held her hand just above the armpit. Renee remained silent, a heavy tension filling the air before she spidered all ten fingers into the poor woman’s armpit. “You’re not trying hard enough. I know you, Natalie, and I’m sure you can do anything you put your mind to.” She smirked, unable to help herself from joining in Natalie’s screams of laughter. 

Apparently, Wattson’s right armpit was just a little bit more sensitive than the left one, and Wraith picked up on that immediately. She used one hand for scratching little circles against her skin and the other one for squeezing where the armpit met her upper ribs. By now, Natalie was crying with laughter and gave up on trying to free her wrists. “AIEHEHEHEHEHEHS PIHIHIHIHIHIHTÉ! PAHAHAHAHAS PLUHUHUHUHS S'IHIHIHIHL VOOHOHOHOHUS PLHAHAHAÎT! (Have Mercy/No More Please!)” The engineer cried before dipping into silent laughter again, her arms shaking in place. 

Renee eventually let up on the tickling when Natalie’s face started turning deep shades of red. She leaned up and smirked as she untied the woman’s wrists and laughed when she immediately pulled her arms down. “That’s all you had to do, Nat. You’re lucky that we’re friends, otherwise I may have kept going until you put your arms down yourself.” She threatened playfully as she wrapped her scarf back around her neck. Wattson trembled and rubbed her arms against her sides, a smile still etched across her lips. The ticklish sensations still plagued her skin, but she was happy that Wraith seemed to loosen up and smile...even if it was at her expense.

I hope this was okay! I got the inspiration from Lady Gaga’s Poker Face. Please let me know what you think!