#but seriously why is he shaped like that... who gave him the right?
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
just-a-sewer-goblin · 5 months ago
Text
I watch Alien vs. Predator for the plot.
The plot:
Tumblr media
He's looking at her with respect which can easily develop into love and is a perfect foundation to fu-
*I am shot dead before I finish the sentence*
972 notes · View notes
dixonsstinkysock · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Twins
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Era: Commonwealth (Halloween)
Pronouns: She/Her
Warnings: Kissing?
Word Count: 1,850
Summary: Your little boy wants to be just like his Daddy.
A/N: This was inspired by @bambidixon …I couldn’t stop thinking about it plus it’s Halloween time so why not. Kinda rushed so...Hope you enjoy! 
Tumblr media
The smell of your famous homemade alfredo sauce wafts through the air. The freshly cut pasta is boiling away on the stove, made from the pasta maker Daryl got you for Christmas. You’ve always had a passion for cooking, making food from scratch whenever you get the chance. Daryl was different, he prefers opening a can of some vegetable and calling it a night. He deserves better than that, so you give him your best. Speaking of Daryl, He, Judith, RJ, and your son Beau sit in the living room watching an old movie, obviously Daryl’s idea. He’s a sucker for old movies, says it reminds him of the only good part of his childhood.
 After a while, your strawberry shaped timer went off, signaling the pasta was ready, another thing Daryl got you. Your kitchen was a mitch-matched mess but you loved it, it gave the place some character. After stirring the thick, creamy sauce you move to grab a strainer. Draining the noodles and combining them with the sauce, you add a bit of chicken you shredded prior, mixing everything together. 
“Dinner!’ You call out, hearing Daryl tell the kids to go sit at the table. You feel a pair of warm, strong arms wrap around you, and then the smell of tobacco.
“I can do the rest” Daryl leaves soft, sweet kisses down your neck. Slowly rocking side to side with you, gently taking the cooking spoon from your hand and stirring the pasta himself. You turn your head to look him in the eyes, his eyes are beautiful, a deep navy blue like the ocean. “Are you sure? I can do it— I don’t mind”
He gives you that sexy, lopsided, half smile. “Nah…go sit. I’m just puttin’ it on plates right? Can’t mess that up…” You reluctantly pull away from him, going to sit down with the kids as Daryl plates the food. After a moment Daryl starts to bring the food in, you stand to help him but he insists you sit and relax. He hands the kids their plates before bringing out yours and his.
The kids say their “Thank you’s” and dig in. You can tell Beau is Daryl’s son by the way they both eat. You always thought it was cute, how alike they both were. The hair, the smile, the attitude…Almost seems like the only thing he got from you was his eyes, well…one of his eyes. He has Heterochromia, one eye blue like his fathers, the other matching yours. Daryl said he was our good luck charm, the best of both of us. Halfway into dinner you decide to speak up–
“So, have any of you thought of what you wanna be for Halloween..?”
RJ was the only one who answered, having thought alot about this. Judith and Beau were silent, still eating.
“Really? That is pretty cool RJ. Judith? Beau? What about you two? Any ideas?” You look at the two, confused at why they were so silent. Usually Judith is the first to answer, and Beau is the same thing every year. He loves that stupid Dinosaur costume. You and Daryl tried keeping up with the holiday’s back in Alexandria, wanting to give the kids some type of normal childhood.
“I don’t know…I don’t think I wanna dress up this year.” Judith murmurs looking down at her food. Daryl finally looks up and stops eating. “How come Jude? You love Halloween.” 
Judith shrugs “I don’t know, I don’t even know what I would be. Plus I’m getting too old to be dressing up…” She takes another bite of her food, obviously done talking.
“Uhh, You're never too old to dress up J. Look at me, I dress up every year.” You look at her pretending to be offended. She looks at you with a “seriously?” face. 
“You’re the same thing every year, it basically doesn’t count.”
Knowing she’s right, you turn to Daryl silently asking him to take over. He shrugs, taking another bite of his pasta, “Okay…What about you baby? What do you wanna be?” Beau doesn’t look up and just shrugs, which is weird because he is usually ecstatic when we ask him, every year telling us he wants to be a Dinosaur. This gets Daryl's attention, and he questions Beau.
“What’s wrong buddy? You don’t wanna wear your Dinosaur costume?” Beau shakes his head and that’s the end of the conversation. 
After dinner, you’re in the kitchen cleaning up. Daryl is getting the kids ready for bed, Beau being more stubborn than usual tonight. Daryl walks in after a while, coming up behind you and leaning on the counter.
“Everything okay? Heard you were having some trouble with Beau..” Daryl sighs and runs a hand down his face.
“Yeah he uh…He wants you to put him down instead.” 
“Okay..Do you mind finishing these dishes for me?” He nods, standing up to take over. You give him a quick kiss as you walk by, a silent thank you while walking to your son's room. 
Knock Knock Knock…
Beau looks up from his picture book, he’s been doing amazing with his reading recently though he still likes to just look at the pictures. “Hey… What’s going on my love?” You make your way towards his bed, sitting on the edge with him. He leans his head on you, snuggling closer.
“Mommy…I know what I wanna be for Halloween…” You look down at him.
“Really? Did you not wanna say it in front of everyone at the table?” He nods moving to sit in your lap. “So…what do you wanna be?”
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking of the right words to say. “Can you promise to keep it a secret?” He looks up at you with his big beautiful eyes and his father’s half smile. 
“Of course, pinky promise.” You stretch out your pinky to lock in your promise, he does the same. 
“Okay…I wanna be Papa for Halloween…” A smile starts to creep in, already imagining the tiny version of Daryl’s angel wing vest, Beau living up to his nickname “Mini Daryl Dixon”. You’d have to get Carol to help with the sewing, it should be hard to find a pair of jeans that fit Beau, that boy is spoiled by Daryl. Finding a toy crossbow might be a challenge, you’d have to go on a few runs maybe…
“Momma?” Beau snaps you out of your planning, you look back down at him. Brushing his hair out of his face and moving to lay him down. 
“Listen, I love that you wanna be your daddy for Halloween, but it is time for bed…Guess what? Tomorrow we can go visit Aunt Carol and ask her to help make your costume okay? We’re gonna get you a vest and a crossbow just like daddy’s.”
“Really?” 
“Yep, and we don’t have to tell your daddy until Halloween. What do you think?”
“Okay..” He nods and gives you a big smile, getting comfortable under the blankets. You give him a quick kiss on his head and stand. “Goodnight Beau, I love you.” 
“Love you too, momma..” He flips over to look out his window and falls asleep. 
Daryl’s sitting on the couch, just having finished cleaning the kitchen. You sit next to him, laying on his shoulder and closing your eyes. “He okay,,?”
“Yeah, just wanted to talk to me..” 
Daryl looks down, carding his fingers through your hair as much as he could. “Bout what?” You smile, keeping your promise to Beau. “Nothin important, just about how much he loved me…of course” Daryl looked back up at the TV. “Right…Of Course.” 
It was the day of Halloween, everyone was getting ready to go trick-or-treating. Judith decided at the last minute she actually did want to dress up. Lucky for her you knew that would happen and prepared a few options for her, Now you were helping Beau finish his costume. You and Carol were able to sneak out a few times looking for a toy crossbow and a child-sized leather vest. You two found the crossbow no problem, the vest was a different story. Carol gave up looking and decided to make one from scratch, finding a normal-sized leather vest and cutting it down to Beau’s size. 
You and Beau are in his room putting his costume on, he was very picky about how everything was sitting so you two have been in there for a while. Daryl, Judith, and RJ are already ready to head out, the three waiting by the door for us. Daryl goes as himself every year…how original, RJ is going as a walker, and Judith is a Samurai, in honor of their mother Michonne. 
“You two almost done?” Daryl yells from the living room, impatient as usual. 
“Yes, one more minute!” You respond, doing the last finishing touches on Beau’s makeup. He wanted his Daddy’s scar as well, practically begged for it. After finishing his costume, he opens the door slightly and shouts out. “Daddy! Close your eyes, you can’t see it yet!”
“Okay..Okay..” Daryl complies, just wanting to leave and get this over with.
“You promise you aren’t looking?” 
“Yes! I promise! You better hurry or all the good candy is gonna be gone boy!” 
You walk out first, well..Beau pushed you out first, nervous of how his Dad was going to react to his costume. You two make it down the hallway, Daryl is standing by the entryway, waiting for Beau to tell him he can look. “Okay..now you can look…” Beau is standing beside you, fidgeting with his hands, crossbow strapped to his back. His vest Carol sewed up for him is identical to Daryl’s, blue wing and all. He’s got the stitched up jeans and a strip of red cloth tied around his neck to imitate Daryl’s bandana.
“No fuckin’ way…Are you shittin’ me?” Daryl looks up at you in disbelief, you can tell he loves it. Judith and RJ are so interested in Beau’s costume they don’t even say “Swear jar”. Beau looks up at Daryl, a bit anxious from his reaction. “Do you like it..?”
“Do I like it..?” Daryl crouches down to his level. “I think that’s the best costume I’ve ever seen, Little man. We’re basically the same person now…” Beau visibly relaxes after Daryl says that, now excited to leave. Daryl stands and opens the door for the kids, signaling that it was time to leave. You and Daryl hang back watching the kids walk down the hallway, glad to finally get going. 
“So..? You like it?” You lean on Daryl’s shoulder, wanting a moment to yourselves before being crowded by the hundreds of people outside.
“I love it…I love you. You’re amazin’..” Daryl leans his head on yours, leaving a soft kiss on the crown of your head. You lean into his touch, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself to follow the kids.
“…I love you too.” You and Daryl finally make your way out the door, closing and locking it, trying to catch up with the kids. 
Tumblr media
430 notes · View notes
xi-vz · 4 days ago
Text
Shen Yuan stared up at the man, disbelief clear on his face.
The man before him huffed a laugh, brown eyes becoming crescent shaped with amusement. He was a little taller than Shen Yuan, a little broader, with a sleeve tattoo covering his right arm to his wrist. His dark brown hair was softly curled, more wavy, and a little shaggy, falling to his shoulders. His face reminding Shen Yuan of Binghe. Not a lot, but just enough if he were to tilt his head and squint.
“You’re just a kid.” When the man finally spoke his voice was as smooth as velvet. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” Shen Yuan automatically responded as he gawked.
The man had round wire glasses, a piercing on the left side of his lower lip, both ears were pierced, and he had cheekbones that belonged on a magazine cover. He was a little older than Shen Yuan expected. Somewhere in his late-twenties compared to Shen Yuans late teens.
“Cucumber-Bro, come on, I’m not that different.” Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky offered a smile, showing off dimples underneath a days worth of scruff.
“How old are you?” Shen Yuan demanded, still blocking the doorway into the dorm.
“Thirty.”
What the fuck?
“What the fuck?” Shen Yuan asked aloud.
Seriously, this was the caffeine addicted crack-writer?!
When Shen Yuan had woken up back in his dorm room instead of in bed with his husband in the bamboo house, he immediately contacted Airplane—it was a gamble, but it paid off. The relief Shen Yuan felt when Airplane responded was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He gave the other man his phone number and address, then waited an excruciating five days until the two could meet. (Because Shen Yuan lived in Beijing, but Airplane apparently lived in Chengdu, and last minute flights weren’t cheap.)
Shen Yuan knew that his friend would look different. Hell, Shen Yuan looked different! A little shorter, a little rounder, way younger. With pitch black eyes, short inky black hair, and an ear piercing. He was pretty rather than handsome, softer than Shen Qingqiu.
And it wasn’t that Shang Qinghua wasn’t handsome—he was! Like everyone else in PIDW. But Airplane?
“Can I come in?” Airplane asked while shoving his hands into his back pockets. He wasn’t dressed fashionably. His beat up backpack was slung carelessly over a shoulder, jeans were ripped due to wear and tear, his faded band shirt was due to too many washes, his sneakers were scuffed. And yet…
Shen Yuan dressed in the latest fashion. He tried his best to look good, he had standards for himself! He looked like a C-Pop star.
Airplane wasn’t even trying to be hot. (WHY WAS HE SO HOT?!)
It shook something inside of Shen Yuan. All of his past theories of Airplane being a troll flew out the window.
“Well?” Airplane looked like he wasn’t above shoving past his friend to get in.
Shen Yuan allowed his friend inside, still shook.
“Shang Qinghua.”
“What?”
“My name, bro.”
“Wait…you used your actual name for the character closest to Mobei!? Fucking Mary-Sue!”
“Ah, there we go, there’s the Peerless Cucumber I know. Although it’s weird to hear such vitriol from a face so cute.”
Shen Yuan felt the blood rush to his face and wished he had a fan in his hands to use as a weapon when Airplane chuckled.
“Come on, let’s try to figure out how to get back home,” Shang Qinghua said as he moseyed to the desk in the room.
Shen Yuan sighed as he closed and locked the door.
BONUS:
SY: I thought you said you were a broke university student who wrote to make sure food was on the table.
SQH: Yeah, dude. I’m working on my dissertation. Writing pays the bills.
SY: YOU’RE GETTING YOUR DOCTORATES?????
SQH: Yeah, in Topology.
SY: YOU’RE GETTING YOUR DOCTORATES IN MATHS?????
400 notes · View notes
dancingdonatello · 2 months ago
Note
2012 tmnt x shape-shifting reader!!!!!!!!!! Saw one for rise and immediately thought of 2012:)
2012 tmnt x reader
Leo gave you a nasty side eye as you moved your face up close next to his. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” You stuck your tongue out and he reared back at the snake tongue that came out instead of your human tongue.
“Stop.”
“Why? Does it freak ya out?” You fell into lap, fluttering your eyelashes up at him. “Should look in a mirror, bud.”
He scowled down at you, but made no move to push you off. You grinned at him. That was unusual, maybe he was finally warming up to you.
Raph pointed a finger at a cockroach, shaking very slightly. “Stop it! I know it’s you!” He shouted your name in a warning tone. You snickered. He was serious. “I’ll smack ya if ya don’t change back right now!”
“I’m right behind you.” He yipped, whirling around to face you. He stared at you, wide eyed. Unluckily for him, this startled the cockroach. Which happened to have wings. He ran out of living room and you watched after him lazily.
That would teach him not to threaten to smack you.
Donnie scowled at you, your small form blinking up at him innocently. He slowly takes off his mask he used to protect his face when using a blow torch. “I thought I told you to stop sneaking in here.”
You squeaked, whiskers twitching.
“And it’s weird that you’re a rat. Offensive even. What if Splinter saw?” He smiled tiredly as he lowered a hand you clambered into it. He put you on the lab table and you slowly morphed back to your human appearance. You sat on the table, kicking you feet back and forth.
“I think you need a break, big guy.”
“Please!” Mikey begged you, clasping his hands together. “Just once! So I know what she’s saying!”
“Fine. But never again.” You warned him. You transformed into a cat as he picked you up and carried you to the freezer.
You would never admit it now, but… you couldn’t actually talk to animals like Mikey believed you could. So here you were, taking a shovel and digging the hole deeper. You meowed very seriously to Ice Cream Kitty who blinked at you curiously. “She said something about… uh, dolphins.”
Mikey nodded, eyes flicking back and forth between you and the mutant. “What else?”
“Uh… she loves you?” He squeaked, scooping icecream Kitty’s bowl up to hug her. You rolled your eyes. This guy.
285 notes · View notes
eddiernunson · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Harrington!Fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW
Part 1 is now Posted
Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You're home for the weekend, which so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.
Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve's daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie
Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve's freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type
(Unedited) Excerpt Here:
The smell of his Irish Spring soap hits the kitchen before he does, walking into the kitchen mid yawn and fresh from his shower. Eddie’s shirt clings to his lithe torso like a second skin, showing off just the hint of a tummy with his sweatpants sitting low on his hips. You allow yourself one second to gawk at him and the hairs that peek out of his shirt until you reshift your focus back to your toast, panicking when you notice the jam that has dripped on your hand. Oh, shit again?
“What’s with the fancy get up, dude?” Eddie asks, pouring himself a cup as well.  
“Before we get to that, Sunshine has put some toast in for you.” Steve gestures with his coffee cup.
Eddie’s brows lift, looking just the littlest bit delighted as he turns toward the toaster. “Oh, thanks!” He snaps his fingers into a gun with his thumb and pointer finger, sending a wink your way. You’re mid-‘clean-up’ on your hand, rushing to finish before you nod to acknowledge his thanks. 
“Alright. My partner called,” he means work partner, “he needs help to close this deal. He’s having a really hard time doing it himself.”
”Who did you send?” You ask, knowing a little bit of his work drama. 
Steve hisses, wincing as he says, “Warner.” 
You roll your eyes, shaking your head as the toast pops out of the toaster. “Well no wonder!” 
Eddie has been watching this like a tennis match, completely out of the loop but entertained nonetheless. “What, what’s wrong with…Warren?” 
“Warner,” you correct him, cleaning up yet another spill of jam off your thumb. “The guy sucks. Why Warner, why not Tommy?” 
“Wait, why does he suck?” Eddie asks as he spreads butter on his toast, looking way too entertained about this.
“Because he’s a 22-year-old fuckwit that doesn’t know how to close and only got this job because his dad gave it to him when he retired,” you huff, not at all distracted by how Eddie is eating his toast; like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, savoring every bite. His tongue occasionally pokes out to lap at the butter on his lips, his eyes closed as he muffles sounds at the back of his throat. 
He makes eating toast look depraved.
“Sunshine, you’re 22,” Steve squints, lifting his cup towards you accusingly. 
You scoff. “Yeah but I’m not an entitled dickwad who thinks just because his daddy had a job ‘oh, that’s my job one day!’. He has no experience versus his father who was in the game for 25 years.” You’re very passionate about this, more so than you had even anticipated. “Seriously, why him?” 
“He’s the only one who didn’t take the Fourth of July weekend off because he’s a 22 year old fuckwit with no family.” He takes a large sip of his coffee before setting it on the counter. “Well in any case, you are right. He has no experience and we need this account, so I gotta help him out.” 
“When do you think you’ll be back?” Eddie asks, giving you a fresh whiff of his soap when he walks behind you to sit on the other side of the island. 
Steve crosses his arms and leans against the table, mentally preparing himself before he disappoints the two of you, “Not til Sunday.” 
“Shitty,” Eddie sighs sympathetically. 
“Dad I can only take one week off,” you sigh, having only gotten two days with him. “When you get back I’ll only have one more day.” 
“I know, I’m sorry.” He does genuinely sound remorseful. You know he’d stay if he had any other choice, but he doesn’t. 
“You know anyone else in town who could…” Eddie starts, obviously reminding your dad of something he forgot about. 
“Shit. Hmmm.” Steve’s eyes flicker to you, “Sunshine can do it.” 
You pause mid-bite in hearing your nickname. “Sunshine can do what?” 
“I don’t wanna bother her on her vacation.” Eddie states, dismissing Steve’s offer. 
Your dad saved him off, “I’m sure she’d be happy to help.” 
“What am I doing?” You ask more assertively, finally grabbing their attention. 
Eddie finally speaks first, “Oh, I asked your dad to help me pack up my uncles things. It’s a tedious process, I can get—“ 
“No, she’d be happy to help,” Steve offers again, looking at you and jerkily nodding his head towards Eddie. 
You’d be happy to help, you’re just thinking about the amount of time you’ll be alone with Eddie. Your plan was to keep a safe distance from him, allowing a free show in your best summer clothing while enjoying the hot weather. The close quarters your dad is sending you into sounds dangerous, butterflies erupting into your ribcage as you picture the deafening silence surrounding the two of you knee deep in his uncle’s things.   
“I’m happy to help,” you tell him, getting up to put your plate away. 
“I don’t want to force her into—“ 
“My dad can’t force me into doing shit,” you scoff, ignoring your dads own scoff. Now Eddie on the other hand could demand you to bark and you would. Down on the ground, on all fours. “Besides. You two wouldn’t have gotten any actual organization done.” 
“Thanks,” Eddie lifts his mug, giving you a wink. Your neck hair rises, scanning his arched nose and the rebelling stubble already growing in despite having freshly shaved. His aftershave is intoxicating, the sound of a glass mug clinking as it lands on the counter snapping you out of your daze.   
“When are you leaving?” You suddenly remembered your dad’s presence in the kitchen, funny how fast you forgot about him. 
“I should get going within the hour,” he states thoughtfully, grimacing apologetically when you give him sad eyes. You know it's not his fault, but you’re not the adult here, and the disappointment you feel can’t help but twist your features. 
He puts his hands on your shoulders, petting them with his thumbs. “I do feel better knowing I’m not leaving you all alone in this big empty house.” 
You tense up, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to smile. Being left all alone with Eddie in the big empty house is precisely what is worrying you. Your dad’s constant presence alone is the thing that has prevented you from even being tempted into going any further than elongated stares and late night fantasies. 
“I’ve been alone in the house before,” you say, tilting your head. “You’re about to be alone for the rest of the month.” That sentence just makes you feel sad. 
He smirks, shaking his head playfully. “I meant at least if I’m ditching you for work, then at least I’m not leaving you all alone. I was trying to alleviate my own guilt.” 
“I’ve already forgiven you, old man,” you tell him. “Go, rescue those poor investors from Warner’s slippery hands.”
He pulls you in for a hug, his heartbeat familiar as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. Your head is swung back abruptly as he pushes on your shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially. “Hey, there are worse people to leave you alone than the man that was once on a poster on your wall, hey?” 
That poster was stared down many times, finally taken down when you were about to move away, kept only because of the autograph in the bottom corner.
Regardless, your dad is having too much fun with this. You wonder who would have more fun if Eddie ends up bending you over the couch like you kept envisioning. Said rockstar currently bending over the couch to grab something jolted you back to the present. 
“And who gave me that as a gift after introducing me to his music?” You shoot back, meeting those chocolate brown eyes across the living room. 
“My ears are burning,” Eddie grins, walking around the couch to plug in the amp. 
“Are your keys burning, because I need a ride to the airport.” Steve interjects, smirking at your widened eyes. 
Eddie sits on the couch, one foot resting on the coffee table as he starts playing his guitar absentmindedly. “I am your noble steed at your service, Harrington. Just tell me when.” 
Steve answers with something, probably somewhat sarcastic before climbing the stairs to finish packing. You probably would’ve heard it if it weren’t for how absentmindedly his fingers were moving, individually plucking the strings as his other hand shifts easily to each corresponding chord. 
He is delicate with the instrument, expertly working her and zoned out as the guitar’s gentle tune fills the house. His many years spent playing is evident through how easy he plays the melody, getting lost in the song with his hands working idly. If it weren’t for his eyes being shut for the whole time, you would’ve probably pretended to go on your phone. 
His effortlessness of plucking the strings sends a thrill down your spine, has your thighs squeezing tightly together as your mind starts to picture his fingers expertly working you apart. 
“Ow!” 
Eddie’s yelp snaps you out of it, making you jump as you hurriedly switch your glance back to your phone. He chuckles as he sucks his sore thumb, the very same one the guitar string snapped on. “Sorry, did I scare ya?” 
“No,” you answer, sounding not at all convincing to yourself. Eddie lifts his brow to you, his face comically twisted as he continues to tend to his wound. “Okay, maybe a little.” 
He chuckles, smirking as he adjusts the guitar on his lap again. “Poster in your room?” 
Fuck, you were hoping he didn’t hear that, despite him being in earshot. 
“Well it was signed and it just so happened to be one of my favorite albums.” Despite your nerves tickling the surface right under your skin, you do your best to seem unfazed by his magic fingers.  
His brows furrow, delicately playing a soft rock melody. At least, you think it's soft rock. “Which one?”
”Hell’s Angels,” you answer candidly. You do like the songs of Freak! More, but you specifically requested a poster of Hell’s Angels because of the dark look in Eddie’s eye while he’s looking directly in the listener. 
There may have been a night where you placed it perfectly on the wall so it appears he’s between your open legs to make it easier to picture him glancing up at you while he—
He tilts his head dismissively lifting one side of his upper lift in a sneer. “Not my best. If I had to pick a favorite, and don’t tell anyone I said this, it’d be Freak!” 
You blink in surprise, grinning to yourself as you listen to the gentle strum of his guitar. 
“I do remember sending that poster off though, Steve never mentioned who it was for, I just figured It would earn him some serious brownie points for a girl he was chasing.” It feels so weird to hear about your dad dating, even after all these years. 
“Nope,” you shrug. “Just his favorite daughter.” 
“Shit,” he laughs, a hiccup in his guitar play, “if you wanted an autograph you should’ve just asked. Only takes me two seconds.”
Your mind buzzes with the offer, probably a throwaway comment of his, but just the offer alone is enough to send you almost on a mental spiral. 
-
I'd add more but the first chapter is only at 5k or so
if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! (if you're on my taglist you will be tagged for the post)
I'm aiming to post at least once a week but that might be ambitious. Aesthetic pictures will be updated with each chapter!
291 notes · View notes
hoesluvjude · 18 days ago
Text
Just friends || jude bellingham
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Word count : 1.3k words
Genre: I don't even know, angst? Flirtish?
Author's note:Jude is cocky in this one and it was abit cringe when I was proofreading but it's whatever 😭you and jude are friends in this one btw. (I know jude doesn't do his eyebrows but just pretend).
Masterlist
You straddle Jude, your knees resting lightly on either side of him as you hold the tweezers steady, determined to fix the mess of his eyebrows. His usual chatter fills the space between you, talking a mile a minute, as usual, his voice cocky as ever,though his words are clearly distracted by your close proximity.
"So, like, you wouldn’t believe it," he says, half-squinting as you tug at the stray hairs. "Girls at Toby’s party? They were all over me. Like, seriously, I could barely get a second to breathe, and they just kept coming up. I had to dodge like five of ‘em!" He grins, clearly pleased with himself, despite his casual tone.
You roll your eyes, focusing on getting the shape right. "Uh-huh, sure, Jude. Let’s just make sure you don’t go blind while you’re bragging, okay?" you tease, pulling a little more forcefully on his brow.
He winces but doesn’t stop. "I’m just saying, it’s tough being this charming. You wouldn’t understand," he smirks, clearly trying to provoke you.
You pause, locking eyes with him for a moment. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who wouldn’t understand… if I left these eyebrows like this," you reply with a sly grin, making him laugh.
"You jealous or something?" he teases, leaning back slightly to catch your reaction.
You pause for a second, locking eyes with him, then raise an eyebrow. "Jealous? Of what? You and your so-called fan club?" You tease, carefully threading the tweezers through the stray hairs again.
Jude narrows his eyes, sensing a challenge. “Okay, okay, don’t try to act all chill. I see the way you’re glaring at me.You remember that time you were totally flirting with me? I know you were into me back then.”
Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly recovered. “Flirting with you? Are you serious?”
He gave a knowing nod, eyes twinkling. “Oh yeah. You can’t fool me, I saw the way you looked at me.”
You leaned back, laughing as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was probably just being friendly.”
Jude wasn’t letting it go. “I swear, you were throwing me all kinds of signals. But you don’t remember, huh?”
You scoffed, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Nah, I don’t remember. Why are you bringing this up now, though? That was, like, forever ago.”
He shrugged casually but his eyes were gleaming with mischief. “I was just thinking about it the other day when I was lying in bed.”
You froze, a slow smile curling on your lips. “Oh, so you just lie in your bed thinking about me, huh?”
Jude's face flushed instantly, his usual cockiness slipping. “Nah, don’t put this on me!” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t thinking about you, okay? I just… I just remembered it, that’s all.”
“Oh really?” You leaned forward, narrowing your eyes at him.
He scrambled for something to say, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the flustered way his eyes darted around, clearly trying to play it off. “You’re not that special,” he muttered, though it was hard to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “I just… I don’t know, it was just one of those things.”
You smirked, liking the effect you were having. “Oh, so I’m not special, huh?
Jude was leaning back, that cocky smirk you knew too well plastered on his face. “Yeah, You know,” he started, shifting his gaze to you, “I could get any girl I wanted.
You laughed, not at all impressed by his usual boast. “Sure, Jude, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you teased.
Nah, for real. I’m basically irresistible,” he said, throwing you a wink.
You rolled your eyes, amused."Uh-huh," you mutter, focusing on his brows. "Youkeep telling yourself that. If I didn’t know better, I’d say your ego is the real thing that needs fixing.”
"Still doesn't change the fact that you want me." he said, jokingly.
"Oh please, what makes you think that", you chuckled softly.
The banter shifted into something a little more competitive. Jude was trying to save face, but he was already starting to lose. “Well, every time I call you, you’re there in a heartbeat. You’re always the first one to say yes. Guess I’m your first option, huh? "
You smirked, playing it cool. “First? More like last. I don’t even call you. You’re just there when I’m bored, and we don’t even do anything. Just friends, remember?”
Jude’s lips pressed into a thin line, but there was a spark of challenge in his eyes now. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. Like you’ve never thought about kissing me.”
You laughed, letting the challenge hang in the air for a second, your gaze teasing and unbothered. “Kiss you? Please. I don’t kiss just anyone, especially not someone like you. I’m not desperate like that.
He leaned in a little, that smug grin back in full force. “Don’t act like you’ve never imagined it. I know you have.”
“You really think I’ve thought about kissing you?” you purred, eyes never leaving his. “Because I’m not sure you’re worth it.”
You leaned in just close enough for your lips to almost brush his, the tension thick between you. “You’ve got a big mouth, Jude. Don’t think you’re gonna get something just because you talk a big game.”
He blinked a few times, clearly flustered now. “W-what are you doing? This isn’t… you’re playing with me, right?”
He was frozen, staring at you with wide eyes, clearly unsure of what to do. And then, before he could even react, you pulled away, pushing yourself off his lap and standing up.
He was still sitting there, mouth open in shock, clearly trying to process what just happened. You straightened yourself out, a mischievous grin pulling at your lips. “I gotta go,” you said, turning towards the door. “But you can think about this little moment while you’re lying in your bed next time. I’m sure it’ll keep you busy.”
You walked out of the room, leaving him there, sitting on the couch,his mind racing, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, his thoughts a tangle of unfinished questions and the nagging feeling that this—whatever this was between you—wasn’t just a game anymore, something had shifted between you two.
141 notes · View notes
livelaughlovesubs · 4 months ago
Note
guess who's back, back again, it's 🃏 anon back at it again!
so. Sampo Koski (i'm fully inclined to say his full ass name because why not, it's hilarious) recently i had a big craving for his bratty little ass, so i was thinking, maybe reader (gn or otherwise) getting way too tired of his quips and just... fucking him roughly, rough sex, bondage (or any form of BDSM), some (or a lot of) manhandling and a teensy bit of a blood (either from clawing or biting can work!) can work really well!
but honestly, go wild i don’t really mind whatsoever, i’m swamped with work right now and i just need to satisfy my needs from them lolol.
so, again, have fun with this request!
from, le 🃏 anon!
Hello hello~! Great to see you again. After two whole months, I hope you aren’t that swamped with work anymore? Haha
Dom!reader x sub!sampo - reader is gn
Warning: bondage, pegging (I use dick), rough sex, slapping, manhandling, chocking, scratching, mention of death, hair pulling, edging
Tumblr media
It was a mistake to trust him.
Seriously, this man is wanted by the guards and owns the infamous image of a liar, how could you believe in his words? Maybe they were just too sweet, too tempting and irresistible. Even so, it doesn’t justify how stupid you were to trust him. That sweet yet two faced smile, it made you blind. I mean- how dared he scam you with low quality ropes?!
All you wanted was to buy some nice, pretty ropes, and he even gave you a discount. Then he talked big about how well he threats his customers, and that he’d personally bring it to your house. Though the moment you glanced at the item, seeing the rough texture and poor handicraft, your jaw dropped. No wonder the price was so damn cheap, this guy tried to rip you off! Who did he take you for? This won’t do, you wasn’t someone easy who’d let it slide after him apologising. You’ve been so excited to receive it after all, that’s why you had to teach him a lesson.
You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him inside, throwing him onto the ground. The rope slipped from his hands, landing next to him. A cold look in your eyes and you kicked his sides, telling him to get onto the bed. He eventually obliged, then you began stripping his clothes. Sampo let you do it with a sheepish smile and dropping eyes, chuckling satisfied. That lewd little fox just loved it when you are rough with him, when you push him around and put him in his place. Now his face was being pushed into a fluffy pillow while his ass was high in the air, kneeling basically. Wrists near his ankle as you brought the red rope closer to him, straightening it out then whispering, “hold still.”
With a swift move, you tightened the knot around his wrist, pulling with all your strength. He groaned a little and bawled his hands into fists, fully aware that there will be bruises on the next day. “Most esteemed customer~ why… are you testing your product on me?” His voice got higher towards the end, a sense of excitement hidden under the surface. “Hah, come on, we are more than just merchant and buyer.” You reminded him while giving his bare butt a harsh slap, leaving behind a red mark. “Nghh~! Ahaha! Oh y/n, you are as fascinating as ever.”
That’s right, you two have shared some intimacy before and despite the relationship you both had he still tried to scam you. “Save your flattery for later. Now, tell me, does this feel like quality ropes?” You asked him with a scorn, in the meantime opening the lit of a bottle. The tall male had a rather sarcastic expression, acting like he didn’t know. Though the answer was as clear as day. He could feel it rub against his flesh, irritating and burning his skin. It had an itchy feeling to it, yet it also hurt, causing the area around it to turn red.
A faint blush covered the cheeks of the boy. His breathing was heavy and ragged, sweat forming on his forehead. Then you grabbed his roots and yanked on his hair, making him arch his back into a crescent shape, mumbling, “answer me.” The rather rough treatment was immediately met with a loud moan, “uhhH-nNNGhhh~! Ah, be gentle, y/n..” finally he looked at you, mouth parted and tongue hanging out a little. His face also reddened by a few shades, the corners of his lips were curled into a grin.
“I take it you know what this means for you?” You sighed and asked him, squeezing a large amount of lube onto your inner palm. He acted like he didn’t know, staying quiet and making a -hmm?- sound. So you continued with, “your punishment, for deceiving me.” Then you stuck two fingers inside his hole, fingering him sloppily. “Punish.. ment? Ah-ngHhhh..! To-too rough~♡” Sampo threw his head back, his blue-white hair bouncing around. “Yes, punishment for bad boys.”
Seeing how he shuddered and shook, you deemed him prepared enough and pulled your fingers out. Afterwards you lined the tip of your length to his hole, followed by you dropping the bottle onto the ground and grabbing his waist with both hands. Holding him, making him stick his ass out some more. “Mhmm~ ha, haah… don’t hold back now, dear customer.” His breathing became even more ragged, he was obviously enjoying this. “What a fucking whore.” You chuckled, giving his bottom another squeeze, spreading his hole with two fingers before penetrating him.
You slowly pushed the tip in, noticing how his shoulders jerked upwards, the oh so familiar grin returned to his wet lips. Since he was taking this so well, you might as well speeding up the process. With one snap of your hip, you pushed the rest of it inside him, your pelvis hitting his ass. “NgGGHhh~!! Ah- f-fuck, so good, more, ha- mHm, do me harder ♡♥︎!” Sampo cried out, hands wrapped around his own ankle, grip tightening with all his might. He wanted to trash around so bad, though the restrains weren’t bulging in the slightest. Keeping him in check, unmoving and restricted.
Without wasting much time, you began moving, thrusting your dick in and out of him at a fast pace. “AhHh!” He moaned at the sensation, at you rubbing against his walls and hitting places so deep inside him that it made him see stars. Then you leaned closer to him, grabbing his hair again as you whispered into his ear, “You said harder? Let’s see if you can take it then.” After that you licked his earlobe, running your tongue all over the shell while moving your hips ruthlessly. “NGhhh! Y/nnn~! Ah, t-touch me more!” He whimpered, wanting you to show some attention to his leaking member, but you ignored him.
Instead, you opened your mouth and bit his shoulder, trying to raise the speed even more. The hand on his hip gripped him harsh enough to leave bruises, the other one accidentally ripped off some strains of hair from his scalp. You bit down even more when his voice hitched, enough to draw out some fresh drops of blood. At this point he was a withering mess, crying with such a dumb yet blissful expression on his face, his blush spread to his shoulders as well. “OoOhhhH, AHHnnHgg fuuuck!! There, r-right there, so good, fuck me more, more!!” A series of unintelligible words left him, echoing through the lust-ridden room.
The pain he felt from your rough treatment, from the newly gotten bruises and wounds all faded away the moment you found his sweet spot. Not only that, you’ve been abusing that poor area with such brutality he felt like he was gonna die. Each time the tip pressed and hammered against that spot, his head would empty themselves and more tears would fell from his eyes. Drool was hanging out of his mouth as you relentlessly pounded into him, panting and doing your best to keep the tempo up.
“Hah… this is hardly a punishment for you, isn’t it?” You scoffed under your breath, feeling a little bothered by it. That’s why you slapped and scratched his butt again, cursing out, “look at what a fucking pervert you are, Sampo koski.” After drawing some blood with your nails, you insulted him, smirking sadistic. His face was quite a sight to behold, so chaotic and blushy, so damn adorable. “UhHHmm!~♡♥︎ GuUughhh!!” All he did was whimpering and moaning like some dog in heat, struggling against his restrains while his cock leaked his filthy pre onto the bed. With all the remaining strength he had, he meekly trust his hips back against you, trying to get you to go even further.
Then you stopped, very abruptly. “Ah-ahhh..?” A confused squeak escaped him. Hands still holding his hips while he sobbed into the pillow, but you didn’t move at all. “Shall I just leave you like this? Considering you aren’t seeing this as a punishment.” You asked yourself, though talked loud enough for him to hear, you wanted him to know. “uhhh- huuu~?? N-no! Don’t stop y-yet!” His voice was rough and hoarse from his screaming his lungs out. That man really has no shame considering how loud his volume was the entire time.
He turned his head back, trying to look at you. And when he did, a shiver ran down his spine, almost enough to push him over the edge. You were smiling with your eyes, a dangerous look, one that told him to run away r he’d regret it. But, to him, he was already too deep in this mess to escape. This was going to be a long night for him, and he knew since the beginning. “You wanna cum, Sampo?” You began, leaning down to his level again. By doing so you pushed your dick a little deeper in and he whined at the friction. The male didn’t respond with words, he only nodded his head hesitantly, meekly. A sense of fear and pleasure bubbling inside him. How he loved to feel like nothing next to you.
Next thing he knew you clasped one hand over his eyes and wrapped the other one around his throat, squeezing him, about it choke him. “Be a good boy and endure it. If I’m satisfied, I’ll let you cum.”
His heart pounded against his chest, he felt lightheaded. All the ecstasy and anticipation was making him dizzy with lust. He didn’t even have to think twice before groaning with a low voice, “yes, please, toy with me. Kill me with your love♡”
Tumblr media
351 notes · View notes
iloveacaibowls111 · 2 months ago
Text
Adoption???
SYNOPYSIS: Satoru adopts Megumi and Tsumiki without telling you (uh oh).
A/N: Cute little fluff, very short. Obviously Satoru is a bit aged up because I can't really imagine two 17 year olds living in a penthouse by themselves unless they're in Gossip Girl.
Tumblr media
“SATORU GOJO?!” Your voice screeched down the penthouse hallway. “Tell me, you did not adopt a kid?”
Satoru visibly winced, glancing over at where he stood with Tsumiki and Megumi. They were trying to sneak into the apartment after Satoru had finished settling them down. The three had been out buying flowers so that, when he told you, you *hopefully* wouldn’t get so mad.
“Um, sweetie, it’s a long story and everything happened so fast. I would’ve told you,” he said with a hopeful grin, holding out a lovely bouquet of blue hydrangeas – your favourite. To his side, Tsumiki smiled sweetly while Megumi struggled to suppress a laugh at Gojo being scolded.
“Oh my god, you did. And you adopted two.” You smacked Satoru lightly on the chest but then happily accepted the flowers, placing them on the kitchen table. Your gaze softened as you turned toward the two siblings. “So, who might you two little ones be?”
“I’m Tsumiki Fushiguro, and this is my younger brother, Megumi,” Tsumiki answered with a hopeful smile, while Megumi just stared at you, his expression unreadable.
“Tsumiki? That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” You said with a wink, making Tsumiki blush slightly. You then turned to the younger boy, your eyes twinkling with warmth. “Hmmm, Megumi. I like it.” You ruffled his spiky hair which reminded you of a sea urchin, though he remained stoic.
“Can I bring my two dogs with me? If not, I don’t want to be here,” Megumi said, deadpan.
You chuckled, amused by the boy’s seriousness. “Of course! I already live with an animal, so why not two more?” She gave Satoru a teasing glare, and he tried to shuffle away, pretending not to hear the comment.
“Divine Dogs!” Megumi called out excitedly, and two shadowy forms materialised, taking the shape of large, ethereal canines.
You blinked in surprise but then smiled as the dogs approached, wagging their tails. “Well, aren’t you two handsome,” you said, kneeling to pet the creatures. They happily licked your hand, their tails wagging even harder.
“So you guys want to help me cook dinner?” You asked, standing up and brushing off her hands. “I was thinking spaghetti.”
“What’s spaghetti?” Megumi asked, looking up from where he was patting the dogs.
“You’ve never had spaghetti? Well you’re in for a treat.” You chuckled, pinching Megumi’s cheeks. “Tsumiki, do you want to help me make it?”
Tsumiki’s face lit up. “Yes! Yay!”
“And you, Megumi, Any culinary talents?” You smiled warmly.
Megumi shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I can stir,” he offered.
“Well, stirring is very important,” You replied, your voice light and playful. “And maybe you can teach me some tricks with those dogs of yours later.”
Megumi’s lips twitched into a small smile – enough to make Satoru’s and your heart swell.
Once the kids were out of sight, you turned to Satoru, your playful smile slipping into something more knowing. You placed your hands on your hips and raised a brow at him.
“Satoru,” you started, your voice light but firm, “you and I need to have a little chat.”
Satoru grinned nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, chat about what?”
You narrowed your eyes slightly, stepping closer to him. “You adopted two kids without asking me first.” Your tone wasn’t angry, but there was a clear warning in your words. “You know you can’t just make decisions like this, right?”
Satoru chuckled awkwardly, trying to brush it off. “Well, I figured you’d be cool with it! I mean, look at them—they’re adorable!”
Your expression softened into a smile, but she kept her hands on her hips. “Oh, they’re adorable, alright. But that’s not the point, mister. You still should’ve talked to me first.”
Satoru put his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to stress you out with the details.”
You sighed, stepping even closer and poking his chest playfully. “I get it, Satoru. But next time?” You poked him again, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You better run something like this by me. Or else.”
Satoru grinned, catching your hand gently before you could poke him again. “Or else what?”
You leaned in, your eyes narrowing teasingly. “Or else you’ll be sleeping on the couch. With the Divine Dogs.”
Satoru’s grin widened as he laughed. “Oh no, not the couch! That’s cruel and unusual punishment!” He held his hand dramatically to his chest.
You laughed, shaking your head. “You better believe it,” you teased. “Now go help me with dinner before I actually make good on that threat.”
Satoru leaned down and kissed your forehead, the warmth in his heart growing as the tension between them melted into playful banter. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
As they headed toward the kitchen, Satoru couldn’t help but smile to himself. Sure, he probably should’ve talked to you first—but with you by his side, he knew they’d be able to handle whatever came next.
115 notes · View notes
makeyoumine69 · 11 months ago
Text
Call Me Babydoll 5
PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: Patrick stays in your mind even after the disastrous Dorsia incident. Like a song you can't get out of your head, he continues to hum his sultry and sensual words and ways into your ears and heart. When he arrives unexpectedly with a surprise guest, he cannot deny that he is attracted to you. But is this even real?
CONTAINS: Angst, smut, masturbation (f), obsessive behavior, cursing and use of pet names, smoking, gaslighting & manipulation, humiliation & hyperfixation, Daddy kink, making out, marking, biting.
WORDS: 3.5k
A/N: Sorry to make you wait so long, I hope to get in shape soon and post more often!🥰
LINKS: [Ch.4]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Your mind was a complete mess, your heart nothing but glass dust. The echoes of your private conversation with Patrick on the outdoor terrace of Dorsia still lingered in your mind even after you returned home, though you couldn't remember how you made it since you had declined Bateman's offer to take you to your house.
The first thing you noticed when you crossed the threshold of your home was a strong, sweet scent of flowers. It was a familiar perfume that you already hated.
"Y/n? I thought you were already asleep in your room," and there she was - your father's girlfriend named Sophia, meeting you in the hall, smiling mischievously as she caught you doing something criminal. "Where have you been?"
Sophia was a middle-aged woman with Greek roots, she was really a nice person, always so kind and friendly to you, and most importantly - she never tried to replace your mother, for which you were very grateful. 
"I had dinner," you replied tiredly as you took off your coat. "Not a good one."
"Ouch…" She gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before continuing. "Don't be sad, honey. You're an incredible person and I'm sure that one day you'll meet the right person." Sophia cheered this, smiling as if her words were a prediction of the future. "With whom you will feel that everything is in the right place."
Sighing, you tried to master something close to a smile. "Thank you, Soph." As much as you wanted to share your worries with her, you couldn't because she could tell your father everything. "I'm so exhausted I could fall asleep right here."
"Go rest," she mused, watching you go upstairs. "Tomorrow your father and I are going to visit my family."
"Good luck with that." You replied before disappearing from her vision.
It was obvious that you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, thanks to the endless thoughts that looped in your head like a broken record.
Why did you ever think that a man like Bateman could really take you seriously? You felt deceived, embarrassed and madly frustrated, because at the end of the day, Patrick was just playing with you like a toy, twisting you perfectly around his finger. 
Fidgeting in your bed, you accidentally recalled the memories of the day he was here - you could still feel the remnants of his hypnotizing cologne as your sheets smelled of him. A lonely tear slid down your cheek, outlining the beautiful shape of your face - now so dull and dejected. 
If only you could rewind time and not allow him to get close to you, not even for an inch. Sobbing, you curled up like a kitten, pressed your knees to your chest and tried to drift off, but every time you closed your eyes - his gorgeous face popped up in your mind, making you believe that he really had blessed you with a curse. A curse to be obsessed with the man who would never be yours.
Tumblr media
It had been a week since you had seen Bateman, and somehow you had even managed to live through your depression and hide it from your father, although it was quite difficult due to his numerous questions about your sad face and bad mood. At work, some of your co-workers were also trying to figure out what was wrong with you, so you finally decided to take a few days off to relax and get your life back on track.
In the morning of one of those days, you suddenly found yourself writhing on the sheets, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. With an irritated groan, you threw the blanket aside, accidentally touching your painfully hard nipples. 
Oh shit, not again.
Closing your eyes, you didn't even notice that you were dreaming about him for the third fucking time in a row. You let out a muffled gasp as your trembling hand snaked down your belly between your half-opened legs to the center of your desire.
It was just impossible to resist.
"Aww, Daddy," you moaned softly, imagining it was his hand caressing your taut folds. "Please...I need more..."
Embarrassed but absolutely horny, you spread your legs wider, letting your own digits slide along your dripping pussy, and kept picturing his beautiful face as he praised you for being such a good girl for him. 
A loud gasp echoed through your room at the memory of his velvety, deep voice, playing in your head as if Bateman was really here, next to you, his hand wrapped tightly around your trembling throat as he wanted nothing more than to bring you to your climax, to see you collapse right before his dark hazel eyes.
"Mmhm, Patrick..." you frowned and shivered, your ministrations growing more impatient as you rubbed circling motions into your throbbing clit while feeling the impending orgasm building in your core. "Patrick, Patrick, please!"
To muffle your obscene moans, you had to bite the pillow next to you as you reached your climax, never stopping to massage your feverish nub. 
'You are so naughty, Babydoll. Look at the mess you have made.'
The echo of his sexy voice resounded in your clouded mind, prolonging your intense orgasm and you couldn't help but cradle your breast, only to pinch your hard little tip as you craved more. 
But unfortunately, after the haze of ecstasy wore off and you were finally able to think clearly, the bitter realization that it was all an illusion washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you completely broken. It felt as if you had put all your energy into getting that high, and now you could barely move, feeling satisfied yet devastated.
Over the next few hours, you showered several times and refused to leave your room, no matter how much your father and Sophia tried to convince you. Shame and despair were eating you alive from the inside out, draining all your positive emotions like parasites.
Whenever you tried to distract yourself by reading, you were annoyed by your mind tricks because every character's name starting with the letter P automatically became 'Patrick'. 
You hated that man for infesting your mind, body, and soul. Before meeting Bateman, you even thought you were frigid, but now...now you were ready to climb on the walls from the consuming desire to be...possessed? Owned? Marked? 
A loud knock at the door interrupted your train of thought and you barely stopped yourself from squeaking - all these days, since you started having nasty dreams with Patirck, you felt like you were doing something bad and someone from your household could catch you. Quickly you approached the door to your room and after unlocking it, you let your vision - which turned out to be your father - in. 
"I thought you were taking a nap," he chuckled, but then his face changed when he saw your tired eyes. "Are you sure you're not sick, (y/n)?"
"I'm not sick, Dad," you rolled your eyes and crossed your hands over your chest, ready to be lectured again. "Did something happen? I was in the middle of proofreading."
Your father hummed, tilting his head to the side. "You took a few days off to work at home?"
Scowling with annoyance, you leaned against the door and mumbled: "It helps me relax and clear my head."
"Well, I just wanted to let you know that Patrick is here," you felt the ground disappear under your feet as he spoke. "He came to sign some papers and I thought you might like to join us in the living room. Soph made your favorite apple pie."
This information made your temples ache with tension, and you had to massage them to ease the stabbing pain. "Father, I... I'm not really in the mood for guests."
Especially when this guest was Patrick Bateman.
Your father just sighed and stepped back, which meant he wasn't going to try to convince you. Most of all, you hated to upset your family, even though you didn't want to see Bateman, not after the things that had happened to you during these long, crazy days.
"Okay, okay," you knew you would regret it, but now you didn't see any other option. "I'll be back soon."
With that, you closed the door, feeling the panic rising in your chest. It seemed that your father still thought that you were still on good terms with Patrick, since you had not told him anything about that damn dinner. Trying to pull yourself together, you quickly went to the mirror to freshen up a bit - the fact that you were worried about what Bateman would think of your appearance still bothered you, but there was nothing you could do about it.
Almost fifteen minutes later, you finally came downstairs, wearing a short black top and your favorite tight jeans, and no, you weren't trying to impress him - a little spice wouldn't hurt.
As you approached the living room, you began to hear a cacophony of different voices: your dad's, Sophia's, and another unfamiliar female voice that made you stop in confusion around the corner. Who was that?
"(Y/n), don't be shy, come here." Your father's comment made you frown and bite your lip in embarrassment as you felt like you were transferred back to your childhood.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the living room and immediately became the center of everyone's attention. Your eyes quickly found the owner of the unknown voice - a pretty blonde girl sitting next to Patrick with a small notebook in her elegant hands. 
Another blonde, huh? 
Putting on a friendly fake smile, you managed to hide your frustration and walked closer to the couch to take a seat next to your father, completely ignoring Bateman's intense gaze.
"Uh, this is Jean, Patrick's assistant," your father introduced the blonde girl to you, and she smiled shyly when you raised your eyes to her. "Jean, this is (y/n), my lovely daughter."
"Nice to meet you, (y/n)," Jean murmured and turned to look at Patrick, as if looking for his approval. When he said nothing, she continued. "Patrick has told me a lot about you."
"Really?" You replied skeptically, your hands already crossed over your chest as you desperately tried to keep your composure. "How nice."
Somehow your father managed to notice the growing tension between the two of you, and his little cough caught everyone's attention. "Sorry, my throat gets dry from time to time."
"No need to apologize, Mr. (y/l/n)," Bateman suddenly joined the conversation, causing you to almost jump in your seat. "How about your lovely daughter making us some drinks?" His white-toothed smile was blinding, but you did your best not to react to this provocation.
"Yeah, sure. I'll make them." You stood up quickly, seeing this as a great opportunity to escape.
"Let me help you!" Jean suddenly suggested.
"No no no, you don't have to!"
"Hey, let her help you," Patrick put forward and tapped Jean's knee several times, which you couldn't miss. "It's better not to refuse people's help, because we live in such a cruel world. You know what I mean, (y/n?)" 
His smug wink at you made your hands clench into fists, but you decided not to argue with him and just stumbled out of the living room, hearing Jean's soft footsteps behind you.
In the kitchen, the two of you didn't try to strike up a conversation, feeling uncomfortable but not hostile. With casual confidence, you took out two glasses and three cups under the attentive gaze of Patrick's assistant.
"Whiskey for the boys and coffee for the girls," you hummed to yourself, finally glancing at Jean, who was standing shyly in the doorway. "Maybe you want something else?"
"No," she gasped when you asked her. "Coffee is fine."
"Good."
As the blonde woman watched you make the coffee, she came closer and looked around the kitchen. "'Your house is very cozy."
"Thank you," you gave her a warm smile and picked up a silver tray for the cups. "My mother used to love an atmosphere like this," your sudden confession made you stop everything for a moment and Jean noticed your tension. "She would be very touched by your compliment."
The sad undertone in your words made the woman pause and think about what to say next, and you used the moment to get additional things for the coffee, including sugar, cream and vanilla. 
"I would only ask you to help me with this," you nodded at the nearly full tray. "And I'll take glasses and a bottle."
"Okay," Jean picked up some napkins before taking a deep breath. "Patrick was right when he said you were a lovely girl."
Frowning, you almost spilled the last cup of coffee when you heard those words. "Uh, I don't understand why you were talking about me at all."
"Well, we talked about you when I made the reservation for your dinner in Dorsia."
An awkward silence hung in the air for some time before you managed to pull yourself together and place all the cups on the shimmering tray. "Mmhm-yeah, that dinner was something, I have to admit," you let out a nervous chuckle, not wanting to remember the events of that evening. "Do you like him?"
"W-what?" Jean blushed almost instantly, her beautiful blue eyes averted from your curious gaze and she had to fix her stray lock of hair behind her ear. "He's my boss, and I like working with him."
"Is he a good boss?"
"Yes, he is."
Satisfied with her answer, you crossed your arms and grinned. "Glad to hear it, I mean seriously," you watched her bat her long eyelashes as you moved the tray over to her. "I think you two look great together."
Exhaling, Jean took the tray and giggled sheepishly. "What makes you think that anyway?"
"I just noticed the way he looks at you," you replied frankly, picking up the glasses. "Thanks for the help. Now I have to get a drink for the boys."
With that, you cast your most sincere smile before retreating from the kitchen, and once you were out in the hall, your face became blank and dull. The things you just said - were they just some kind of masochism? You kept asking yourself as you walked to your father's office, where he kept his favorite drinks that he only served to special guests.
Carefully, with cat-like grace, you touched a doorknob when you noticed that the door was half open. Concerned, you quickly turned around and when you saw no one, you quickly opened it and stepped inside, only to freeze in shock and it was a fucking miracle that you didn't let the glasses fall down on the floor.
Bateman was standing with his back to you, so at first you hoped he wouldn't notice, but as soon as you turned on your heels, the man spun around and the sight of you made him smile mischievously and absolutely charmingly.
"Wrong door?" Patrick chuckled and shifted his position so that you could now see him holding a bottle and a lit cigar in the other hand.
"You can't smoke in my house," you said in an irritated voice. "I'm serious."
"Oh, stop it," his mocking chuckle echoed in your ears, annoying you more and more. "Your father gave me permission. Besides, he told me he had a bottle of J&B, so I decided to take it myself, since you two were very slow."
Having said that, the man puffed on his cigar and blew several rings of smoke, causing you to cover your mouth as you started to cough. The sheer arrogance he radiated was poisonous and somehow suffocating, it was like a tight rope around your neck, no snuff could affect you like that.
"Why did you send Jean with me?"
"And why didn't you answer my calls?" Bateman interjected sternly, closing the distance between the two of you.
The sudden question made you lose your balance for a second. "Calls? What calls? I... I don't even understand what you're talking about."
With a cheeky grin, Patrick took a drag on his cigar and blew right into your face. "Hmmm, let me remember," he leaned against the door and cocked his head to the side. "The one right after dinner, and the one the next day, and the one two days after that."
It was strange, because all these days no one had ever told you about Patrick's calls, and you thought that if he had really made them, your father would definitely have told you, since he wanted you two to get along so much.
"All right, let's pretend that you really did call me, but I can't understand why?"
"You seemed very upset after dinner," the man strove to parry your provocative question, though his eyes glowed with the thrill of the challenge you were giving him. "I just wanted to check on you, since your old man is worried about you too much, and... I didn't need any trouble to close the deal."
Another disappointment.
"Business above all, huh?" No matter how hard you tried to hide the pain, your voice still sounded somber. 
"Shhh," his sudden touch on your lower lip caused something heavy to fall in your stomach. "Don't be like that, Babydoll. I'm just doing my job."
"Even now?" You taunted him blatantly, though your panting could be clearly heard in the room.
The sexual tension between the two of you was palpable in the air, but you both remained still, even when Bateman approached your neck to inhale your sweet scent, mixing it with the sharp smell of snuff.
What the hell were you doing? 
When Bateman pulled away to place the bottle on the nearby bookshelf, he grabbed the glasses you were holding so desperately that your fingers began to curl. Then the man squeezed the cigar between his white teeth and, with practiced ease, picked you up and carried you to your father's desk. As he set you down on the wooden tabletop, he didn't let you protest, pressing his large palm over your mouth.
"Now, now, little girl," he cooed, exhaling smoke before pulling you a little closer. "C'mere, I'm going to show you something."
Carefully but determinedly, Patrick grabbed your chin and drew you closer so that your mouths were barely an inch apart. Pressing his thumb along your lips, the man forced you to part them, and in the next moment, he blew some smoke into your mouth before sealing it with his own. Intoxicated by both the smoke and Patrick's sudden intrusion, your hands clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, cramping the expensive fabric of his pinstriped suit. After all these days of desperate need for his touch, this kiss was like a sip of water in the desert; it was vital and overwhelming. With every breath you took, Bateman's movements became bolder, less tentative and more demanding; his warm hand slipped under your short top to caress your shoulder blades with feathery strokes that almost drove you to moan against his lips, but you struggled to stop yourself.
"Patrick," you gasped after breaking the kiss. "What the hell are we doing?
"You tell me, Babydoll." 
"No, because it was you who told me you didn't want to be a babysitter. Did you forget?" 
When you tried to slide off the desk, he wouldn't let you, pressing you closer to his strong body and finally putting his cigar in the ashtray not far from where he was holding you. "I always remember my own words…" With that, he placed both his hands on either side of your knees before moving them slowly up along your hips and God, Bateman was doing it so damn slow on purpose, forcing you to jolt from the strange tension in your lower belly - the feeling that had become your personal drug. "Oh, don't pretend you don't like it. Your body speaks for itself."
You tried to pull away from him as you couldn't stand the way his hazel eyes were stripping you down, but the more you struggled, the more Patrick grew impatient, so he just yanked roughly by your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back and expose your delicate neck, which Patrick didn't miss the chance to mark, biting your tender flesh and then sucking the mark with a muffled groan.
There was something feral about him and that 'something' was making your body respond to his every touch, every little contact.
Nuzzling your cheek, Bateman lowered one of his hands to your bare stomach, drawing invisible lines along it before suddenly cupping your throbbing pussy through the tight material of your jeans, making you squeal and shake on the desk.
Just as Patrick was about to kiss you again, you both noticed a commotion coming from behind the door and then realized it was your father, you both didn't even have a chance to move as the door was quickly opened, revealing a very compromising picture.
Tumblr media
P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!
346 notes · View notes
justpassingbyoursht · 8 months ago
Text
Yknow when I first saw Chronos i couldn't quite take him seriously bc he's... he's a twink. who gave him that tiny tiny waist and those birthgiving hips? why is he built like that? i expected a giant or something, i mean the big 3 brothers are built ykno their father should be big muscly guy too right?? and then i realized he's got an hourglass shape and. 😶
my bad supergiant u are right. titan of time. hourglass. titan of time? hourglass. checks out ✓ he is hourglass shaped. an hourglass. ⌛that. that is him. titan of time alright. hourglass
but still that tiny waist
189 notes · View notes
salty-autistic-writer · 6 months ago
Text
A little headcanon fic. Buck and Tommy talk about scars and Chimney. ~
“And this one?” Buck asks, tracing a long moon-shaped silver scar on Tommy’s arm.
“Cut myself while working on a car,” Tommy says. “It happened before. But never like this. This bitch of a cut didn’t stop bleeding. Sal had to drive me to the hospital where they stitched me up. He was constantly complaining about how I was bleeding all over his car seats even though we wrapped a towel around my arm.”
Buck hums. His eyes wander over Tommy’s stretched-out body. All that exposed skin. So much skin. And a lot of scars. Every single one tells a story. He wants to know them all.
“This one?” He asks, gently touching a circle of raised skin on Tommy’s shoulder.
“Got shot during my time in the military. Didn’t even really notice. I was too focused on flying us out of there. I only noticed when I got dizzy from blood loss and someone from my team took over, landing the chopper. The bullet went right through. Fortunately, it didn’t hit anything important.”
Buck swallows. He stares at the scar. Tommy could have died back then. He almost died a few more times after that, of course. Buck focuses on the shrapnel scars, which always look more like a flower tattoo to him. His throat tightens as he realizes once again, how dangerous their jobs are. Death is a constant shadow lurking in the corner.
“You have to be more careful,” he says pointedly, putting his head on Tommy’s warm chest with a content sigh.
Tommy raises a brow. “Says the guy who stumbles into a life-threatening event twice a year.”
Buck shrugs. “It’s not like I want to. They seem to find me.”
“Maybe it’s just the 118,” Tommy muses. “Maybe it is cursed after all.”
“Now you sound just like Chimney,” Buck chuckles.
Tommy smiles. “That reminds me … I still have to properly thank Howie.”
Buck frowns in confusion. “Why?”
“Well, if he hadn’t saved my life, I wouldn’t be here now. And if he hadn’t called me for help with saving Bobby and Athena, I wouldn’t have met you,” Tommy says seriously.
Buck freezes. He raises his head from Tommy’s chest, staring at him. “Wait. Chimney saved your life?!”
“Yeah. Back when he joined the 118, he dragged my unconscious ass out of an exploding building even though I was an insufferable idiot who first insulted, then ignored him. They told me about it in the hospital. I felt horrible. Later we talked and hugged. He gave me his number. Told me we could go for a beer after shift sometime. It was the first time after the army that I dared to open up a little more to a colleague. Friend, now. Of course.”
“Wow,” Buck breathes. “I had no idea. He never told me. Guess I have to thank him too.”
Tommy chuckles and brushes his fingers through Buck’s hair. “Yeah. Well, Howie is way too quiet about how awesome he is. Let’s buy him a fruit basket.”
“Or,” Buck says, a grin spreading on his face. “Let’s bake him a heart-shaped cake with “for our favourite matchmaker” on it. He loves those cakes.”
Right?
157 notes · View notes
angelremnants · 12 days ago
Text
A TALES OF.. l Trickery, Disguise and Daggers
Tumblr media
OR.. You have no choice but to disguise yourself as Loki to gain the upper hand in battle. But seeing you dressed in his signature green and gold, with his dagger in hand and embodying him so convincingly leaves him wondering why he can’t decide if he’s furious, fascinated, or entirely undone by the sight, and why was it so distracting and far more intoxicating than he could have anticipated.
pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader
warnings : Mature themes (16+), flirtation and teasing, mild violence references, suggestive content. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.
word count : 7k
author's notes : All I heard while I was writing this was "I'm a diva". God, do I love writing about a down bad Loki. I know this man goes feral at the idea of someone impersonating him and making it look so good. Then again, it might just be my ovulation talking.
Also, literally writing this one hour before my exam. Wish me luck :(
(ao3 version)
Tumblr media
The happy-go-lucky trio reached the outskirts of Dredheim, a desolate land marked by jagged cliffs and a blood-red sky. The atmosphere felt as if it could swallow them whole—ominous and suffocating, as though the earth resented their presence. It wasn’t just the eerie landscape that made Dredheim dangerous—it was the Ironclad Order. This ruthless faction had marked Loki as their top priority for capture, allegedly for breaching a binding contract centuries ago. Their fortresses were well-guarded, and their soldiers were more than capable of recognizing even the slightest shape-shift Loki might attempt.
Retrieving the next chipped piece of Yggdrasil was essential, but unfortunately, it meant infiltrating their most sacred vault—an impenetrable labyrinth-like temple protected by wards and magic so strong even Loki couldn’t easily bypass them. As the trio debated their options, Loki stood at the base of a jagged cliff, arms crossed over his chest, his face impassive. There was a cocky grin playing on his lips, but it didn’t quite mask the calculation in his eyes.
“Why is it always me who gets chased by petty mortals with grudges?” Loki drawled, clearly unperturbed by their dire situation. “Do they not have hobbies? Crops to tend to? A goat to milk?”
Thor groaned beside him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You broke their blood oath, Loki. It’s not petty.”
Loki’s smirk deepened, and he glanced over at his brother. “They were foolish to make a deal with me in the first place.”
Thor sighed, rubbing his temples. “Well, whatever it is, we need a plan. They’ll recognize you on sight. What do we do?”
“We could just storm the place and—” [Y/N] began, raising an eyebrow, but was immediately cut off by Loki’s sharp, mocking gesture.
“Yes, excellent idea,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let’s storm the stronghold of a group that specializes in binding deities. I’m sure that’ll end well for me.”
[Y/N] shot him a withering look. “You’re no fun,” she muttered. “Okay, seriously though, we can’t brute force our way in.”
Loki folded his arms across his chest, his expression still cool, but now interested. “Well, then, what’s your brilliant suggestion, [Y/N]?”
She paced a little, clearly deep in thought, her boots clicking against the stony ground. “So… you can’t walk in there without getting swarmed by a thousand warriors, right? But what you trick them into thinking you are walking in there?”
Thor gave a confused glance at both of them. “Trick them?” he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief. “They’re trained to spot deceit. You’re talking about outwitting the masters of seeking truth and justice themselves.”
[Y/N] paused, her gaze shifting to Loki. “Exactly. We don’t need brute force; we need Loki at his most… Loki.”
Loki tilted his head, intrigued but still skeptical. “Go on.”
[Y/N] hesitated for just a moment, then her grin stretched wider. “Since it’s a piece of Jotunheim we’re talking about, you’re needed inside to retrieve the piece.” She said, keeping her tone casual, “But if you walk in there, they’ll have you chained up before you can even take a breath. So, we need something or someone to look like you and act like you. A diversion that’ll keep them distracted while you slip in unnoticed.”
Thor furrowed his brow. “I don’t think we have anyone who could pretend to be you, Loki. Who could possibly pull that off?”
Loki’s sharp eyes flickered over [Y/N], who had been silently considering something. “I’m not so sure about that.” Loki’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile as the idea began to form in his mind. He paced around her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe as if mentally measuring her up. He stopped in front of her, his gaze intense. “I think you’ll do.”
[Y/N]’s eyes widened slightly, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Loki held up a hand to stop her.
“You’ll dress like me. You’ll wear the costume, the green, the curls,” he said, his voice low and full of cunning. “And you’ll do it perfectly.”
Thor frowned. “Are you serious, Loki? You want her to pretend to be you? I mean no offense my lady, but you’re hardly—”
“Hardly what?” [Y/N] interrupted, crossing her arms.
“Scheming, deceitful, or arrogant,” Thor replied bluntly.
Loki grinned. “I don’t know, brother. She might just surprise us.” He turned to [Y/N], not taking his eyes off of her, his tone turning darker with amusement. “You’ve seen how adept she is at adopting the essence of someone else. With the right illusion, she could pass for me. And when she makes her entrance—our entrance—the Order won’t know what hit them.”
She considered the idea, then sighed with a wry grin. “I’ll admit, I have a bit of flair when it comes to trickery. But what do you mean by ‘make my entrance’? I’m guessing ‘subtle’ isn’t the point.”
Loki’s eyes sparkled with approval. “Indeed. We need chaos. A dramatic entrance to make them believe they’ve caught me in the act.”
Thor shook his head, still unconvinced. “This feels like a terrible idea.”
[Y/N] glanced at him, a half-smile playing at her lips. “You got any better ones, big guy?”
Loki walked over to a pile of supplies they’d gathered and began rifling through it. He emerged with a small, enchanted pouch. “I’ll provide the illusion,” he said, already looking at [Y/N] as if she were his next grand project. “you'll just have to wear this. Since your abilities grant you the possibility of making mirages and contains a color similar to my seidr, you’ll just have to imitate it and maintain a monochromatic tone. It’ll mask your scent, your aura. It will be me—and they’ll never know the difference.”
[Y/N] took the pouch, inspecting it carefully, then met Loki’s gaze. “Fine,” she said, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “But if I have to wear your ridiculous green costume and pretend to be you, I’m going to need a lot of space for the theatrics.” Loki’s grin was practically predatory now. “Of course, darling. You’ll be magnificent.”
Standing in their tent, [Y/N] stared at herself in the mirror Loki had conjured. She smoothed the green leather tunic over her hips, standing straight as Loki adjusted the high collar and the flowing cape. The outfit clung to her in a way that was both empowering and deeply uncomfortable, made worse by the heavy cape tugging at her shoulders. Loki was standing close—too close—and she could practically feel his smirk boring into her. The infamous horned circlet sat precariously atop her head, the weight making her neck ache.
“Is this thing necessary?” she grumbled, adjusting the horns.
“It’s iconic,” Loki said, lounging nearby with his usual air of nonchalance. “You can’t impersonate me without it.”
[Y/N] stood tall, draped in his usual flair, the oversized horns slightly tilting to one side. She was doing her best to maintain a haughty expression, but the glimmer of nervousness in her eyes gave her away.
“Well?” she asked, spinning on her heel. “How do I look?”
Thor snorted. “Ridiculous.”
“Thank you for the confidence boost, Thor,” [Y/N] deadpanned.
Loki, however, was silent. His eyes roamed over her—taking in how she carried herself in his colors, his armor. There was a hint of amusement in his smirk, but there was also something else. Was it delight? Admiration? Something a little darker and more thrilling that made his heart race.
“The dagger,” he said, holding out the gleaming blade.
[Y/N] took it, the hilt cool and unfamiliar in her palm. She twirled it clumsily, making Loki wince.
“No, no, no,” he groaned, grabbing her hand and positioning it correctly. His voice dropped into that soft, low cadence he used when he was serious, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “If you’re going to impersonate me, you need to own this. The blade isn’t just a weapon—it’s an extension of you. Watch.”
He took the dagger, spinning it fluidly through his fingers with practiced ease before pressing the flat of the blade lightly against his lips. His gaze flicked to [Y/N] briefly before he pulled it away and ran the blade along his forearm, the motion smooth and deliberate. The silver edge glinted in the low light, catching her attention.
[Y/N] hesitated, her fingers tightening on the hilt. “I don’t see how this helps with looking like you,” she muttered, though she mimicked his motions—pressing the cold metal to her lips for a fleeting moment before sliding it across her wrist and down her arm. It felt strange, foreign even, but it carried a weight of power, a piece of Loki’s essence she couldn’t quite explain.
“That’s better,” Loki murmured, his tone quieter now, almost approving. He stepped back, crossing his arms. “You’re learning. Slowly.”
[Y/N] raised an eyebrow but said nothing, spinning the dagger again.
“And now for your magic,” Loki added, his voice sharper. “You’re relying on your auroras, aren’t you?”
[Y/N] blinked. “That’s my power.”
“Yes, but if you’re going to pass as me, you need precision,” Loki chided, pacing a small circle around her. “The Ironclad Order will notice the smallest flaw. If your aura flickers even slightly—if there’s a hint of your charming little rainbow glow—you’ll give us all away.”
[Y/N] sighed, holding up her hand as tendrils of her magic began to swirl around her fingers. The shades of green and pink danced together in their usual chaotic display. Loki watched, unimpressed.
“Focus,” he barked, stepping closer. “None of this whimsical, northern lights nonsense. Pure green. My green. Do it again.”
She shot him a glare but bit back her retort. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she tried to force her magic into submission. The colors swirled violently at first, as if rebelling against her will, but she pushed harder. The pinks dimmed, the blues faded, until only streaks of green remained. It wasn’t perfect—the edges flickered—but it was closer.
When she opened her eyes, she caught the faintest flicker of approval in Loki’s expression.
“Almost passable,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “You’re getting there. But remember, darling, this is more than just about your magic or how you hold a dagger. It’s about presence.”
He moved to adjust her shoulders, his hands firm but not harsh. “When I walk into a room, people don’t just see me—they feel me. They know I’m better than them.”
[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”
Loki ignored her, tilting her chin up with two fingers. “Confidence,” he said, his voice low. “It’s all in the smirk.”
She huffed but followed his lead, letting her lips curl into a half-smile.
“Better,” Loki said, stepping back to admire his work. His smirk turned mischievous. “I might even be a little impressed.”
Later on, with a swirl of emerald smoke, she emerged—just as Loki had done countless times before. She wore the illusion well, slipping into his skin like it was her own. She made sure her steps were slow and deliberate, as she presented herself to the darkened world beyond. She was no longer [Y/N]; she was Loki—every inch of him—his confidence, his arrogance, his power. The moment she stood before Loki, his jaw tightened, though his lips curved upwards in approval.
She looked… perfect.
His gaze darkened as he absorbed the sight of her. His heart thudded harder in his chest, even as his mind tried to rein in the flutter of something far too dangerous for his liking. The way she moved, the way she owned the space around her… she had embraced his persona so fully that it was as though he were looking at his reflection.
Thor, standing next to him, grumbled under his breath, clearly uneasy. “By Odin’s beard, this is better than I thought.”
Loki couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Let’s hope she’s as good at escaping as she is at pretending to be me.”
[Y/N], still fully immersed in the role, caught Loki’s gaze from across the distance. The glint in her eyes was unmistakable—an unspoken challenge.
Loki’s lips curled into a smirk. This mission was about to get much more interesting.
The courtyard of Dredheim was swarming with guards, their weapons gleaming ominously in the dim light. For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the clinking of armor. Then, a sudden burst of green smoke exploded in the center, the sound sharp enough to make even the most stoic guards flinch.
“Really?” came a familiar voice, dripping with disdain. As the smoke cleared, a figure in green and gold emerged, arms spread wide and posture exuding arrogance. “Is this how you greet an old friend? By pointing your little sticks at me?”
The guards froze, their confusion evident, as [Y/N]—disguised in Loki’s likeness—strutted forward. She carried herself with the same calculated bravado Loki had perfected over centuries, her cape billowing behind her and her lips curling into a smirk.
“Ah, Dredheim,” she began, her voice smooth and sharp. “Still as dreary as I remember. You’d think with all the contracts you uphold, you’d have better taste in décor.” She let her gaze sweep over the guards, her disdainful tone forcing a few to shift uncomfortably.
One of them, braver than the rest, stepped forward, his spear raised. “You’ve breached the conditions of your exile, Loki,” he said firmly. “Surrender now, and the Order may grant you leniency.”
[Y/N] tilted her head, twirling the dagger she held around her fingers with casual precision. “Leniency? How generous,” she drawled. “But tell me, what exactly do you plan to do if I don’t surrender? Throw me in your dungeon? Bind me with your shiny chains?” Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper as she stepped closer. “I’ve already escaped you once before. Do you think you can hold me now?”
The guard faltered, his grip on the spear tightening, but his resolve clearly wavering. [Y/N] seized the moment, tossing her dagger lightly into the air and catching it by the blade without looking.
“Now, now,” she purred, her voice deceptively sweet. “I’m here to talk, not fight. But if you’d prefer the latter...” She pointed the dagger toward the guards, her smirk widening into a alarming grin as they exchanged uneasy glances.
Just as she prepared to press further, a deafening horn blared through the fortress. The sound was followed by the clattering of gates as reinforcements poured into the courtyard, their spears crackling with enchanted energy. [Y/N]’s eyes flicked to the commotion, though she maintained her composure. “Oh, good,” she said dryly. “I was worried this would be too easy.”
While [Y/N] commanded the scene, the two brothers watched from the shadows behind a crumbled wall while dismantling the blood oath.  Their task was delicate and swift—breaking an oath that had bound them in the past required finesse and precision. In a quiet, hidden chamber, Loki worked his magic, weaving the words of old with a power that was both subtle and devastating. Thor, ever the steadfast warrior, kept watch, ensuring that no unexpected interruptions would hinder their mission.
But Loki’s eyes couldn’t help but be locked on her every move, his breath caught in his throat. The way she moved, the way she wielded his persona with such ease—it was uncanny. She wasn’t just copying him; she was becoming him, in a way that both impressed and unnerved him.
“She’s quite the performer,” Thor remarked, his tone laced with amusement.
“She’s reckless,” Loki snapped, though his gaze never left her. “One mistake, and the entire plan falls apart.”
Thor chuckled softly. “She reminds me of someone.”
Loki shot him a glare. “Do me a favor and save your observations for later.”
But even as he spoke, he couldn’t deny the pang of pride—and something deeper—that stirred in his chest. [Y/N] wasn’t just holding her own; she was dominating the stage.
It should have infuriated him. Instead, it unsettled him in ways he didn’t care to examine.
“She’s being brazen. If she slips up, they’ll know it’s not me.” Loki hissed.
“And yet,” Thor said, glancing at his brother, “you can’t take your eyes off her. You’ve been staring at her like a wolf eyeing its next meal.”
Loki shot him a glare. “I thought I made it clear that it wasn’t the time for your ridiculous observations, Thor.”
Thor smirked, leaning in closer. “Just admit it. You’re impressed. And something else, too, if I’m not mistaken.”
Loki clenched his jaw, unwilling to give Thor the satisfaction of an answer. But he couldn’t deny it—[Y/N]’s boldness, her defiance, the way she had stepped into his role so seamlessly—it was maddeningly alluring. She was leading the scene in a way that even he had to admit was impressive. But admiration wasn’t the only thing stirring in his chest—it was something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to confront.
The Oath finally unraveled in a strident sound, its bindings dissolving into particles in the ether, leaving their enemies weaker and more vulnerable than they realized. With the soldiers distracted, [Y/N] led the way into the inner sanctum, where the Warden awaited them. The chamber was vast, lit by a flickering green flame, and the air was heavy with magic. The green flame in the chamber flickered ominously as she stepped forward, her every move exuding the kind of confidence Loki himself had perfected over centuries. Said Warden of the Pact stepped forward, his voice booming over the chaos. “Loki, surrender now, and we may grant you a swift end. Resist, and you will face the wrath of the Order.”
She twirled the dagger deftly in her hand, pressing it against the smirk curling on her lips, and Loki watched from the shadows, frozen. She felt like him—sharp, unpredictable, and utterly commanding yet in her own unique way.
She tilted her head, the light catching the intricate detailing of her "Loki" armor. She let out a low, mocking laugh, the sound reverberating through the chamber. “Oh, do you? How delightful,” she purred. Her dagger was gleaming as she pointed it lazily at him. “Do tell me, Warden, have you ever stopped to wonder what it must feel like to stand before a Goddess? You should count yourself lucky—I’m feeling particularly magnanimous today.”
Loki’s breath hitched as shivers traveled down his spine. The words hung in the air, heavier than the tension crackling between the Warden and [Y/N]. She wasn’t just putting on an act anymore. She was the role she played, and it sent a strange ache through Loki’s chest.
Magnanimous. A Goddess.
It wasn’t just the defiance in her voice—it was the conviction behind it. For a fleeting moment, Loki wondered if she actually believed it, and if she did…why did it stir something in him that he wouldn't want to name?
The Warden’s face darkened, and the soldiers shifted nervously. [Y/N] took a step forward, her cape sweeping behind her as she raised her chin. “You forget who you’re dealing with. I am Loki, Goddess of Mischief, rightful heir to Asgard’s throne and master of chaos. Your threats mean nothing to me.”
She flicked the dagger toward the ground, green reflecting in her eyes and her magic sparkling as it landed, creating a sharp crack that sent the soldiers reeling. “Now,” she continued, her voice colder, “get out of my way before I show you what a God can do.”
More soldiers lunged forward, spears glowing with enchanted energy. [Y/N] spun, dodging the first strike and grabbing one soldier by the arm, twisting him into his comrades. She moved fluidly, the dagger an extension of her, just as Loki had taught her.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” the Warden said, his voice echoing through the room. “But your tricks end here.”
[Y/N] stepped forward, still holding the illusion of Loki. “Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Your bravado is tiresome. You think you can stand against me? A Goddess doesn’t kneel to the likes of you.”
The Warden raised his staff, magic crackling at its tip. “You’re no goddess, Loki. You’re a fraud.”
The woman smiled, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Then prove it.”
The Warden launched a bolt of glowing energy toward her, but [Y/N] sidestepped gracefully, her smirk widening. “Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, throwing the dagger upward and catching it without looking.
The soldiers surrounding the Warden hesitated, glancing nervously at each other. She took the opportunity to close the distance, her steps unhurried, her voice sharp and cutting.
“Let me tell you something about power,” she said, her tone icy. “It’s not just about strength or fear. True power is about control. And right now, I’m in control. You? You’re just another footnote in the stories they’ll tell about me.”
Her words were pure Loki—sharp-edged and brimming with arrogance—but the way she delivered them was all her own. She radiated an unshakable certainty that made even the Warden falter.
But the Warden’s forces returned faster than expected. As [Y/N] lowered the illusion of green smoke, the sound of clanging armor and rushed footsteps filled the air. Loki’s eyes darted to the corridor behind her, where armored guards poured in like a flood, each carrying weapons glowing with runes.
As the guards surged forward in greater numbers, Loki knew the ruse wouldn’t hold much longer. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion of himself appearing on the far side of the courtyard, drawing half the guards away. Then, with a burst of green energy, he stepped into the fray, his daggers materializing in his hands.
“Time to move,” he muttered to Thor, who grinned and charged in with Mjolnir, scattering soldiers like leaves in a storm.
[Y/N] caught sight of Loki and shouted over the din, “What happened to waiting for my diversion?”
“Reinforcements,” Loki hissed, gripping her wrist and yanking her back. “They must have alerted the higher ranks. It’s a full ambush!”
“So much for hiding,” she quipped, dodging a spear and slashing through the advancing guards with practiced precision.
“I gave you your moment,” Loki retorted, sending a wave of green energy toward a cluster of enemies. “But now it’s my turn.”
[Y/N] smirked, twisting away from an attacker and sending a spark of her own magic into his chest, knocking him backward. “Try to keep up, then.”
Loki paused mid-strike, his eyes narrowing. Her movements—sharp, deliberate—bore the mark of his training, but there was something uniquely hers in the way she fought, a fluidity and confidence that made her impossible to ignore.
The Asgardians surged forward together into the battle, a synchronized force of magic and might. Loki’s conjured daggers struck first, precise and lethal, while Thor’s hammer crashed into the advancing line like a battering ram.
But it was [Y/N] who turned the tide.
When a spear-wielding guard broke through the brothers’ defenses, she stepped into his path, her movements fluid and calculated. She caught the spear’s shaft mid-thrust, twisted her body, and redirected its momentum, throwing the guard off balance. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sent her dagger slicing across his armor, leaving him crumpled on the floor.
Loki, mid-spin as he conjured a wall of green flames to block incoming archers, caught sight of her. She didn’t just fight—she owned the battlefield. Her movements were sharp and deliberate, her confidence radiating like a beacon. For a moment, he forgot the chaos around him.
“Focus, brother!” Thor’s voice snapped him back to reality as he swung Mjolnir into another advancing guard.
[Y/N] noticed Loki staring and smirked. “What’s the matter, Mischief? You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?”
Loki blinked, caught off guard by the smirk she shot his way. He straightened, forcing his usual arrogance to cover his momentary slip. “Hardly,” he quipped, twirling a dagger with flair as he blocked another guard’s strike. “I’m merely appraising my work. It seems you’ve learned a thing or two from the master.”
[Y/N] arched an eyebrow as she parried a blow and dispatched her opponent with a graceful spin. “Master? How kinky. But for your information, I think I’ve refined your sloppy technique.”
Loki sputtered, dodging an axe swing with dramatic flair. “Sloppy? I’ll have you know my form is flawless.”
The impersonator chuckled, sidestepping to fight alongside him. “Sure it is, Mischief. Now less talking, more fighting!”
“I’m multitasking, thank you very much,” Loki grumbled, though the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed the effect her teasing had on him.
As the guards thinned, [Y/N] spotted the Warden retreating into the fortress. Her heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “There he is!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.
“We need him alive,” Loki reminded her sharply, blocking an incoming strike. “The fragment is within his grasp.”
“Then stop stalling,” [Y/N] shot back, already sprinting as her gaze darted between the remaining guards and the Warden’s retreating figure. Her heart pounded, adrenaline surging through her veins. “I’ll handle him. You two deal with the rest.”
“[Y/N], no!” Loki yelled, but she was already sprinting toward the Warden, her dagger gleaming in her hand. 
The inner sanctum was vast and foreboding, its walls lined with glowing green runes. The Warden stood at its center, his staff crackling with power. [Y/N] entered cautiously, her steps echoing in the eerie silence.
“You think you can outmatch me?” he sneered as she approached, her pace slow and deliberate.
She tilted her head, her voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, I don’t think—I know.”
The Warden struck first, sending a bolt of dark energy hurtling toward her. [Y/N] ducked and rolled, closing the distance between them with startling speed. She feinted to the left, forcing him to overextend, and then lashed out with her dagger, the blade slicing through the magic shield he had conjured.
He roared in frustration, his attacks growing more erratic as she dodged and countered with ease.
“You’re nothing but a cheap imitation of that Trickster,” the Warden spat.
[Y/N]’s grin widened, her voice low and dangerous. “Imitation? No, darling. I’m the upgrade.”
With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a wave of shimmering energy that surged toward the Warden. Her magic crackled like lightning in a storm as it collided with his dark aura. The resulting explosion shook the chamber, sending fragments of stone and embers scattering through the air. Despite the force of the impact, [Y/N] stood firm, her feet planted and her expression unwavering as she deflected the Warden’s counterattacks with calculated precision.
Loki and Thor arrived at the entrance just in time to witness the spectacle. [Y/N]’s magic flared brilliantly, a kaleidoscope of colors twisting through the dimly lit space. Loki paused, his eyes narrowing as he watched her.
“Impressive,” he murmured, his voice carrying a note of reluctant admiration. But then, shaking himself free from the moment, he stepped forward, his hands alight with emerald energy. “Let’s end this quickly, shall we?”
As if on cue, the three of them moved in perfect tandem. [Y/N]’s radiant magic wove through the air like threads of fire and starlight, meeting Loki’s illusions and deadly blasts of energy in a breathtaking dance of light and shadow. Thor’s hammer crashed down with the force of a thunderclap, shattering the Warden’s defenses piece by piece. The chamber seemed to tremble under the onslaught, the oppressive energy of the Warden’s magic fading against their combined might.
When the smoke and debris finally cleared, the scene left Loki momentarily still. [Y/N] stood over the Warden while blocking his movements by pressing her heel on his chest, her own heaving as she caught her breath. In her hand, a dagger glinted ominously under the faint light, its blade pressed firmly against the Warden’s throat.
“Do you yield?” she demanded, her voice low, cold, and commanding enough to send a chill through the air.
The Warden’s glare was sharp, his jaw clenched in defiance, but after a long moment, his hands fell limp at his sides, and he gave a reluctant nod. [Y/N] stepped back without hesitation, her dagger still poised as she allowed Loki to approach.
Loki moved with a calculated elegance, his fingers glowing faintly as he began extracting the flaring piece of sacred wood. Thor, leaning casually on Mjolnir, let out a low whistle, breaking the tension in the room.
“Well then, brother,” Thor said with a smirk, “from what I just saw, I’d wager she might know you better than you know yourself.”
Loki didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on [Y/N], who had turned her back to them and was meticulously wiping blood from her dagger with an almost unnerving calm. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried, and tinged with an air of indifference that only heightened her aura of command.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Loki found himself at a loss for words.
The air was cool and crisp as they emerged from the sanctum, carrying the faint metallic tang of the battle they had just left behind to regroup on a nearby hill under the fading light of the realm’s twin moons. [Y/N] stretched her arms above her head, rolling her shoulders with a slight wince.
Loki’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the motion. “You’re hurt,” he remarked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
She shrugged, brushing him off. “It’s nothing,” she replied lightly. “Besides, I had fun. Honestly, being you isn’t so bad—minus the overwhelming arrogance, of course.”
Loki tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint, amused smile. “Overwhelming?” he repeated, his tone edged with mock offense.
[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, her smirk unwavering. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. You’ve practically made it an art form.”
Closing the distance between them, Loki’s expression shifted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And yet, you wore it so well. Perhaps a little too well.”
Her smirk faltered as their gazes locked, the air between them suddenly charged. [Y/N] caught the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes—something that made her pulse quicken despite herself. But before the moment could deepen, Thor’s booming laughter shattered the tension.
“Well done, my friend! Or should I say... sister?” Thor declared with a grin so wide it was almost comical. He jabbed an elbow toward Loki, wiggling his eyebrows with exaggerated suggestion.
Loki groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re deflecting,” Thor countered with a hearty clap to his brother’s shoulder.
[Y/N] snorted, breaking the spell of whatever had passed between her and Loki. “I’m going to sleep,” she announced, brushing past them as she started down the hill. “You two can argue over titles and egos all you want.”
Thor watched her go, then leaned toward Loki with a sly grin. “You’re smitten.”
Loki stiffened, though the faint color that rose to his cheeks betrayed him. “Don’t be absurd,” he said, his voice clipped.
Thor chuckled, his laughter a low rumble in the quiet night. “Deny it all you like, brother, but I saw the way you looked at her back there. You’d better be careful—she might outshine even you.”Loki’s gaze followed [Y/N] as she disappeared into the shadows, her stride unbothered and confident, as though the weight of their recent battles hadn’t touched her. His lips pressed into a thin line as he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet for even Thor to hear: “She already has.”
The campfire crackled softly, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the cluster of worn tents. Above, the stars hung like frozen whispers in a sea of black, the cool night air carrying the faint scent of pine and smoke. The serenity of the scene was broken only by Thor’s occasional snores from his nearby tent, deep and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the restless figure seated alone by the fire.
Loki perched on a log just beyond the firelight’s reach, his sharp profile illuminated faintly by the dying embers. His long fingers danced absently through the air, as though tracing the edges of invisible thoughts. He had excused himself from the evening earlier than usual, brushing off questions with a tired smirk and a dismissive wave. But solitude had done little to settle his mind.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, raking a hand through his dark hair. Sleep was elusive, chased away by the memory that had rooted itself firmly in his thoughts—[Y/N]. He hadn’t felt so unraveled in centuries. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.
[Y/N], wrapped in his colors, her every movement fluid, sharp, and commanding. The memory of her entrance was vivid: green smoke curling around her like tendrils of ivy, her voice low and laced with dangerous charm. She had moved with a confidence that burned, her posture radiating a power that rivaled his own.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he exhaled, a soft growl escaping his throat. Why does it bother me so much? He tried to dismiss the thought, to let it fade into the crackle of the fire, but it lingered, refusing to be ignored.
It wasn’t just her audacity to mimic him so perfectly—it was how seamlessly she had worn his essence, as if it were hers to claim. Her presence had been so arresting, so undeniably magnetic, that it left him breathless.
Gods, the way she moved…
Loki’s eyes fluttered closed, and his breath hitched as the memory overtook him again. [Y/N], draped in the leather of his garb, hugging her form as though it had been tailored for her. She had prowled across the battlefield like a queen surveying her kingdom, her every step exuding a quiet, dangerous authority. The way the fabric clung to her figure, the sway of her hips—it was maddening.
And that dagger. Oh, how she had wielded it.
The memory of her performance haunted Loki like a curse, one far too alluring to shake. He could see her even now, standing there with the confidence of a queen in emerald mist, holding his dagger like it had always belonged in her grasp.
She had held it like it belonged to her, the blade angled just enough to catch the dim light as she pressed the cool metal against her mouth—just as he had shown her. It wasn’t just a gesture of menace; it was seduction, power, and mockery all rolled into one. She had whispered something after that—he couldn’t remember the exact words, only that they had sounded like something he would say, dripping with charm and danger. The image of her smirking behind the blade had been enough to make his breath lost in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
Now, sitting alone by the fire, the memory wouldn’t leave him. His hand drifted to the very same dagger, still strapped to his side. He unsheathed it slowly, the metal gleaming faintly in the flickering firelight. His fingers tightened around the hilt as he turned the blade over, examining it like it held some forbidden secret.
Loki inhaled sharply as he slowly lifted the blade. The thought was ridiculous, absurd even, but he couldn’t resist. He pressed the same spot of the flat of the dagger against his lips that had once been on hers, the cool metal sending a shiver coursing down his spine. Would this count as an indirect kiss? His eyes fluttered closed, and for a fleeting moment, he could almost feel her there, could almost taste the ghost of her touch lingering on the steel.
But it wasn’t enough.
Loki drew the blade away, letting it glide down his neck, the metal cold against his skin. His breath deepened as he trailed it lower, dragging the flat side of the dagger along the curve of his chest, over the smooth fabric of his tunic. The sensation was grounding and electric all at once, the weight of the weapon pulling him back to the moment she had stood there, commanding the entire room with a confidence he didn’t think he’d ever find so maddeningly... enticing.
He couldn’t stop. The blade moved lower, over his abdomen, where his muscles tensed beneath the light pressure of the metal. He exhaled sharply, his hand trembling slightly as he finally pulled it away, holding the dagger tightly at his side.
The memory of [Y/N]’s smirk, her confidence, her fire—it consumed him.
“A goddess doesn’t kneel,” her voice echoed in his mind, low and dripping with defiance. The words struck him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. He had wanted to laugh when she’d said it, to mock her audacity, but he hadn’t. Because in that moment, she had been a goddess—a force of nature, his equal in every way that mattered. And perhaps, in ways he didn’t yet understand, his superior.
Loki leaned back, letting his head fall against the rough bark of the log, his gaze drifting upward to the endless expanse of stars. “By the Norns,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a mix of frustration and awe.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the faint glow of her tent, her silhouette shifting as she settled for the night. He wondered if she was as restless as he was, if the memory of the day’s battle haunted her as it did him. Did she even realize the storm she had unleashed within him?
He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around the hilt of the dagger. He tried to focus on her flaws, to remind himself why she infuriated him. She was impulsive, reckless, far too bold for her own good. But gods, wasn’t that what drew him to her? Her fire, her fearlessness, her refusal to yield?
“A goddess doesn’t kneel,” he repeated under his breath, the words tasting bitter and sweet all at once. Her voice returned to him, low and sultry, dripping with defiance. Loki exhaled shakingly, his hands curling into fists. Those words had pierced through him, striking a chord he hadn’t realized existed. 
She had looked like a goddess—fierce, commanding, unyielding. It wasn’t just the way she moved or spoke; it was the fire in her eyes, the way she had stood her ground even when outnumbered. The way she had moved, the confidence in every gesture, the fire in her eyes—it had all felt so familiar and yet so wholly hers. And that smirk, the one she had thrown his way as if to say, See? I can be you—and better than you. It had undone him. Completely.
And the worst part? She hadn’t just acted like him—she had been better than him. He had spent centuries crafting his identity as a god of mischief and chaos, bending others to his will, proving his superiority over mortals and gods alike. And yet, in that one moment, she had made him feel... small.
And it terrified him.
She had worn the title like she was born to it, her defiance shining brighter than any crown. For the first time in a long time, Loki had been... mesmerized. Not just by her beauty, though that was undeniable, but by the sheer force of her will.
And then she had dared to mock him after it was all over. “Honestly, being you isn’t so bad... minus the overwhelming arrogance,” she had said with a grin, twirling the dagger like it was hers to manipulate.
Loki’s lips curved into a small, bitter smile. Arrogant? Yes, he was. Overwhelmingly so. But who wouldn’t be, after living centuries in a world that demanded nothing less? And yet, somehow, she had managed to turn it all back on him, stripping away the layers of his pride and leaving him exposed. Vulnerable.
He hated it. And he craved it.
The dagger still rested in his hand, the weight of it oddly comforting. He traced his thumb along the edge, his mind drifting back to her again. He could still see her standing there, the green smoke swirling around her like a crown, her voice laced with venom and allure. She had took over the reigns of the room, demanded their attention, and every part of him had wanted to watch her burn it all to the ground or make it burn for her—anything, if only to please her wrath.
The fire crackled louder, snapping Loki out of his reverie. He leaned back, his hands braced on the log, and let his head fall back to gaze at the stars.
He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.
She was an ally, nothing more. A necessary piece in this grand game they were playing. And yet, when he closed his eyes, he didn’t see the mission or the stakes they faced. He saw her—flushed with triumph, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath after the battle. He saw the curve of her lips as she smirked at him, the challenge in her eyes as she dared him to match her fire.
He swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple despite the cool night air.
Stop it, he told himself. Stop thinking about her like this.
The fire snapped loudly, pulling him from his thoughts. Loki rose from the log, sheathing the dagger with a flourish. His steps carried him toward the edge of the camp, where the shadows deepened and the night felt cooler against his flushed skin. He needed to distance himself, to clear his head, but her presence lingered like a phantom.
He had faced gods, monsters, and armies without flinching, yet one mortal woman had left him in such deplorable state. It was infuriating. It was exhilarating. 
And, the Norns help him, he wasn’t sure he wanted it to stop.
Tumblr media
Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !
dividers ©️ @vesearartistry .
angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.
66 notes · View notes
jujutsukgojo · 9 months ago
Text
The Fourth Leg
chrollo lucilfer x reader
Summary: No matter how fast you ran, the Spider's leg cannot get far. No matter how long you hid, you were bound to be found, dear number four. WARNING: toxic relationships, mentions of murder and torture, bullying, murder plot, smut, idk what else? yandere? 18+ Smut scene is based on Fear (1996). I saw it and it crept up on me Chapter one
You’ll always be able spot the blond haired boy from a mile away. His blond locks are longer now, and his eyes are colder. They aren’t the same light grey they used to be when he was around. A small smile comes across your face when you look to see what your boy is wearing: his traditional Kurta attire.  
  When the massacre happened and you had run into Sheila, she informed you of everything there was to know about the Kurta. So, while he was housed by you, you made those clothes for him. And now that he’s a little older, he still wears the clothes you send him.  
  Kurapika left home to get his hunter’s license. He was determined and able. Just like you shaped him to be. Alas, there is something there that you once again failed to save. Just like before, like always.  
  That rageful bloodlust that confuses the host for justice and vengeance when it is neither one. It is darkness that lurks into them and finally settles into their souls.  
He is falling for the same trick as you and your dearest friends had. They entered a place and left every smidge of hope they had. What was supposed to be for justice, protection, and Sarasa, resulted in a numbness that is too disgusting to handle. It’s too brutal and vile. Bloody without a thought of washing their hands with repentance.
No matter, the tightness of your chest has you think of one thing: is it too late to save Kurapika?  
  You go back inside and wash the dishes that you dirtied from cooking his favorites. He had let you know he was coming. It is such a rarity to even be able to contact Kurapika. He’s just so busy lately. That, and he acts like he has never worked a phone before in his life. The little shit.  
  Thunder and lightning strike, shaking the ground beneath you. A slight rumble under your bare feet. You look out the window again and see a ghost from your past. Tall, silver haired, and just as beefy as before: Silva Zodlyck. You haven’t seen him since he killed you.  
  If he spots you, it will be a brawl. Another side of you that you have buried, not exorcised, all these years are calling out for his blood. To wreak havoc once more and see the fear in his eyes again. The bad thing about that is, is that you are a non combatant. An exorcist, a priestess of sorts. Not at all suited for the front lines. You can defend yourself and fight, but not on the level of him or the others.  
Hell, maybe not even Kurapika now, and you wiped that boy’s tears and snot.  
What you can do now is remain low. As much as you want to see that little brat and talk to him, to find out how he’s been, to fuss over him and see if he’s eaten yet, right now you can’t even consider that. Not when he is close to finding out. Besides, he can take care of himself for a bit. As it appears, Silva isn’t after him.  
  Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on me, trust in me.  
Your breath hitches. That smooth voice is in your head. One you haven’t heard of in years. With all the power inside, you tried to push it out. To wipe their faces from your memories.   
  You see the trash can and can only think of Little. Oh, how you tortured that boy. Putting him in trashcans and sitting on the lids and gave him noogies. Little would always retaliate but had to be held back when that one showed up to protect you. God, why are you thinking of this? There is a beast of a man who almost ended you and your dumbass is reminiscing of your bullying days.  
  Had you not pulled that one trick up your sleeve, you truly would have died by the hands of Zoldyck. It has been years since you’ve fought seriously. You trained Kurapika, but you never went full throttle. Nothing but rust is on your nen and hand-to-hand combat.
  Just sit back, don’t hide your presence or anything. That's what he’s looking for. Any kind of blip in the atmosphere. Hell, he may not even remember you!  
_____________
  You know what you have to do. There is no hope here. No compassion for others at all. The Kurta clan, Sarasa, you, no one. It is now or never.  
  You jump at the bolder of a man. Crosses paint themselves on your palms as a holy prayer escapes your lips. Your veins line with the brightest blue and the rubble around you lift off the ground from your aura. Directly, your hands clasp onto Silva’s. He looks confused and the most surprising of all, scared.
He lets go of his hatsu. In the back, there is a bloody scream. A roar that a lion can never compare itself to. A bloodlust from the roar that made Silva’s eyes widen. It is too late, the hatsu hit you straight on. Two balls of electricity and power collide with your fragile body.  
   When you came to, by pure nen, you could vaguely see your dearest. His eyes watery, voice hoarse, blood trinkling on his face. Silva is not in sight, not a single thing left behind. Did he kill him? 
  “No, no, no, damn it! Fuck!” He shakes you ever so slightly as you lay in his arms. “Heal yourself, please...”  
  You have to leave. He has no regard for you or anyone but himself. Chrollo, the boy who is only a few years older than you, yet you still bullied him, is gone. He didn’t care that you’re a non combatant. He was willing to sacrifice your life and his for his ego.  
  He only wants your ability, positively. Chrollo is gone. It is only the spider left. You have always hated spiders anyway.  
________________
Nah, Silva remembers you. He almost died too. How can he forget that he was sent to kill the man responsible for the annihilation of an entire clan? It's hard to forget a case like that considering the brutality of the deaths.   
  And if Kurapika finds out that you are Number Four, the lost spider, he’ll lose it. He'll demand to see the tattoo, no doubt. You can’t show him that. Especially since you lost a bet with Machi and Paku and put it on a place that he just has no business looking at.   
  As long as you remain calm and blend in, no one will notice. If Kurapika comes in with Silva, you’ll leave before. Pretend that you are out of town or something. Actually, that’s a good idea. You quickly write a note telling your boy that you had to rush out and that you’d call him later. To help himself to the food and make sure to rest.  
  There is another rumble under your feet. It feels different. The screams are louder, the air more ominous by the second. What is this? It touches you like a familiar hand. Something cold and clammy. Is that...Nobunaga?  
  Don't panic, don’t panic. It's been years since you faked your death and abandoned them. They probably don’t remember you, right?  
 Nah, you pantsed Nobunaga in the middle of a dubbing. He was wearing the ranger’s underwear. He always vowed to get revenge, but he was stopped by Chrollo, of course. You’ve known these people for years and fought with them side by side. You saved him several times and healed him. He will remember you.  
  There is a deathly silence. Your skin raises goosebumps all over. You can feel him. Your old friend knows or is at least trying to figure out what’s going on. You take a deep breath and remain calm. It has always been easy to trick him. How many times did you do such a thing and lead him to embarrassing situations?   And how many times did Chrollo get you out? Every. Single. Time.  
You sure were spoiled rotten by Chrollo in every way. It drove people nuts. When you were dropped off in Meteor City at the age of five, you were a terror due to pain and heartbreak. There was only so much a child could take and you weren’t able to express it properly.  
  The priest held onto patience as much as he could, but no one could ever hold a candle to Chrollo’s patience. It is as if he is a saint. You'd bite, kick, and talk over him. When they dubbed the tapes, you would always turn the tv off just because it wasn’t what you wanted to watch. Uvogin was so close to beating you so many times, but Chrollo intervened and explained to them what empathy was.   
  However, he went overboard and spoiled you rotten. In the Troupe you got part of Chrollo’s shares including what was actually yours. He made sure that you were the most taken care of out of them all. He always helped you up and protected you the most. You weren’t able to go on a mission by yourself and had to have at least two people with you, just like him.  
He always held a soft spot for you, you think. Even before you shared special moments. Until he stopped caring and went somewhere where you can’t follow.  
Now that you have abandoned the Spider, Lord only knows what’ll happen. Will he spare you for old time’s sake? Or will Feitan, also known as “Little”, finally get his revenge because of the trash cans?  
  Or Machi’s cut up clothes, and Paku’s shaved head, or Uvo’s wedgies and bites, Phinks’s eyebrows that never grew back, Shalnark’s broken nose and the tack in his sho-  
Oof, you’re going to die. And that was all done when you were like, six? There were plenty more years that you were just onery. Chrollo...that poor guy. The hell he went through before and after the Troupe...the patience of a saint.  
Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled, rotten.    
You were ungoverned and got away with things that the rest couldn’t. But this, rejecting the Spider, rejecting him, sheltering the last Kurta descendant...you’ll die.  
  Or be in a lot of pain.  
Suddenly, you feel a sharpness crawling up your arm. They're coming.  Another rumble occurs right when you back away from the sink. In the distance is a large body flying in the air with a trail of red following it. What?  
With a gross thud that you swear everyone heard, lands Silva. Beaten, bloody, gone.  
   Well, there goes that problem. On to the next, which is Nobunaga. You're caught in his en somehow. Or whatever the hell that's called. Anyway, never did you think he’d grow and be able to stretch it out this far. 
  You start to leave calmly so he doesn’t suspect anything. Just a calm person that his en is confusing for someone else! Finally, you hear the even more terrible commotion. You know Kurapika is okay if the rumors of the powerful chain user are true. And he seemed to have a lot of help. Once you shake the Nobunaga off, you’ll make your way to Pika.  
  He doesn’t know that in your past you were one of the Spider’s legs. The fourth one, to be exact. The one who died by the hands of Silva Zoldyck, years ago. Soon after the Kurta’s extinction and after the fight with the Spider’s leader, the devil himself.
You lock the backdoor and head to the woods where there is a safe spot that Kurapika used to train. As you pass by the branches and the shady trees, you are blinded by the harsh memories of your dear friend, Sarasa. She and the Troupe are a few years older than you. They spent more time with her than you did but the memories of her, those precious moments that you wanted to last for years to come, that innocence, was stripped from you. You hold onto the specks of what was left of your childhood, before the truth of hell appeared.  
   A trash bag, a child inside, the Troupe, and Chrollo who faced it first and has never recovered.  
You weren’t there to find her. It was broken down to you because of your youth and denial, you were staunch in the belief that it was a lie and that she was alive. The only one who had patience for you was Chrollo. The tantrums were the tipping point to the realization that she had suffered in her last moments.   
  When it hit you, he held you as you remained in shock. He catered to your every whim to fill in the shoes of the missing people in your life. And you left him.  
How could you not? He left you first, abandoned you for a darkness that you couldn’t shine a light through. Chrollo believed that he was a messiah to the city and to his friends. They follow blindly when you can’t. You are a thief, not a heartless killer. The Kurta didn’t deserve their fate.  
 You push past a couple of thick bushes to be startled. 
  “Come here, now.” His voice is as smooth as you remember, just a little deeper now and more commanding. Although you know him and his quirks, the atmosphere is off. A creepy feeling of nothing in the air. You can’t sense him of his anger at all. Only a chill and a hair-raising sensation that doesn’t match anyone you know. Perhaps, this is fear.  
   You walk to him as you spot him in a clearing. “Chrollie.”   
“A dead spider, huh.” He stands tall but casually with his hands in his pockets. His hair is slicked back and the tattoo on his forehead is more prominent. He’s shirtless and wears an odd coat. His style choice is different now than it was back then. Before, he would throw on normal Meteor City clothing, which consisted of whatever was around. Looking back, his favorite was a white shirt and plain black jeans. Now, he looks like he wears designer. 
  “Here I thought that you were squashed,” he looks you up and down, eyes narrowing. You feel vulnerable under his gaze. “All along you were here. Raising a devil that killed two of your own.”  
You know about Uvogin and Pakunoda. Kurapika felt so guilty, after the events he vented to you. He sounded as young as he did when you took him in. Of course, you were hurt and cried when Kurapika wasn't looking. You mourned them as anyone would. 
  “I know about that-”  
“And you still didn’t come back?” Chrollo is shaking, desperate to calm down. His fists are clenched so hard, you think they’ll bleed. This, you think, is the most anger he's ever shown. And it's toward you.  “Could I? You would’ve killed me!”  
“I would have accepted you with open arms, Number Four.” Would have.   
Number Four. He didn’t even call you by your real name. “No, you would react just as badly as you are now.”  
“Oh, my darling spider, you have no idea. All you had to do is trust me.” He shakes his head in disappointment. 
_____________
“I’m not joining, Chrollie. I’m not calling you Boss, either.” You were disappointed that they actually went through with this. Years ago, you came across their little meeting. Chrollie looked at you and asked if you wanted to join but you called them all stupid.  
“Why not? I'm the leader.” You roll your eyes. “No, you’re a theater nerd.”  
You jump and sit on the desk. He comes up to you, only inches apart. Chrollie gently cradles your face. “That part of me is gone, darling.”  
“Darling? Pretending to be all manly now? A gentleman? That's what 'darling' reminds me of. Those books you read.” You acknowledge that he’s grown up. He broader and stronger. His hands no longer smooth but are calloused and bigger than your own.  
He erases how gentle he was caressing your face and replaces it with a commanding and firm touch on your cheeks. “Join me.”  
  “No.” You answer as well as you can with your cheeks squished. Suddenly, his lips touch yours. It is your first kiss. It sends shocks to your special place. He parts from you. Embarrassingly, you follow in his direction.  
  Quickly, you snap out of the trance of your first kiss. You shake your head in defiance. “I want to travel! I want to get out of this city and experience the highs. I've already touched the lows. I don’t want to get deeper.”
"You think we’re lower than you?” There’s an edge in his tone. One that tells you to tread carefully. However, you’re not shy when it comes to Chrollie.  
“No. But I worry that you will be.” He tilts his head and asks, “Because you think I can’t take you to the there?”  
  He grabs your hand that is so much larger than yours. It's weird now. You are used to him leading you places but now you just realize the difference between you two. He’s...a man now. It’s all so new. You'll never admit that he makes you feel some type of way.  
“Let me show you.”  
Just like in the movies, you see a roller coaster for the first time. There are lights everywhere and smiling and laughing people. And not at you! Just the joys of life without worrying where the next meal is coming from. You spot the balloons in various animal shapes and see the fluffy candy. The pretzels are soft, and the fried dough the size of your head is to die for. You have never witnessed such freedom. The last time you have seen an inkling of joy was when you were a child and Chrollie was dubbing tapes. 
   The two of you get on the back of the ride. You cling onto his arm. “Scared?”  
“No!” In truth, you were. Never in your life did you ever see one of these in person. Only on the videos Chrollo would pick up. It showed the ride going fast and high with screaming people. There were twists and sharp turns on the tape. And now, you get to be one of those people to experience it.
The ride starts. He wraps his right arm around you. The roller coaster shoots out causing you to flinch.  
“I got you, trust me.” You curl into him as the ride takes a sharp turn. Right after it happened, you feel tracing between your legs. You look down and see Chrollie’s fingers rubbing against you.   
  It's...feeling really good. Your breaths become quicker as his fingers do figure eights through your underwear. You let out a little shriek when he pulls them down. Now, there’s nothing blocking him from you. The ride takes a sudden left. 
  You don’t know how it happened, how it led to this. What exactly did you say to him that incited him to massage your bud and insert a single finger inside you. Slowly coaxing moans that blend in with the screaming of everyone else. Never have you been so grateful for that. He places a kiss on your head. “Join me, swear to me.”  
   Another finger enters you. His palm rubs and presses against you. How are his fingers so long? Why are they bigger than yours and feel so much better?  
  You start to really moan as he goes faster. You lift up slightly to follow his motions with your hips. Chrollie bites and sucks on the spot under your ear. The ride starts to go up.   
“Holy sh-oh God...” You breathily cry. He growls in your ear at the sound. “I’ll take you there, to the highs. So high you’ll never see the ground.”  
You grab his wrist and move furiously, spreading your legs a little more to give him as much room as possible. You want more, need more. There is a feeling there that is about to pop. One that he can take.  
   “Swear to me.” You watch as the stars get closer. People make noises of excitement different than yours, but it blends. “Do you want me to stop?”  
“N-no! I trust you!” You grab onto anything in reach as you give up trying to keep up with him. He's cradling you, his dominant hand relentless and lips sinful. A goose bump raising feeling starts. It's cold and is making you shake even more. Chrollo feels it too.  
He's smiling when you gasp and your head goes back.  
  Everything is happening at once. Two different sensations, both caused by the boss, by Chrollo Lucilfer. And he knows it, he’s waited for it.  
  “Swear to me, trust me!” You grab his leg and squeeze it. “Let me take you there.” He whispers in your ear.  
As the ride reaches the peak, so do you. Loudly, you swear to him. To the spider and his name. His hands and whatever energy is rushing to you, cause your eyes to go back. The squelching sound is loud, but your euphoric moans of his name are louder.   
From what you gather in this state, the ride was supposed to stop. Supposed to stay on the rails rather than bounce a little. You didn't even notice that your aura was the cause for the ride's disruption.
When your high leaves you, you’re in a daze and glowing. He withdraws himself and sucks on his fingers. You gasp at the sight. It is pornographic, the hungry look in his eyes. The grey that you have known for years has become so dark and just by a lick. He grabs your hand gently and leads you away to finish what he started. Your legs shake along the way and for the rest of the night when the two of you are satisfied. The way he licked and sucked and swirled his tongue on the most delicate of places and thrusted himself inside had him gain the scratches on his back.   
The two of you created a memory that neither of you would ever forget.  
It wasn’t until you learn about the nodes do you hold a slight bitterness towards him. He caused yours to open wide because of this. Your aura nodes and a nen pact that binds you together. For the Spider.  
____________
You swallow at the memory and plenty more of similar situations with your former boss. For years you trusted him fully. But somewhere along the way, he had lost it. “Chrollie, please understand. I just didn’t agree with it anymore.”  
“Really?” He scoffs. He knows you are hiding the words to describe how it really was, how it is. You rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.   
“When you killed that entire clan...tortured them, mutilated them...I couldn’t do it anymore. You wouldn’t listen to me. You only thought of yourself.”  
“Excuse me?” His voice is low, and his eyebrows are raised. He's gotten so intimidating now. Before, he was someone you pushed over even when he was your boss. It has always been that way. You admit, you are spoiled. Undisciplined and rebellious to the Spider.  
To Chrollo Lucilfer.  
   If you are going to die today, you are leaving with giving him a piece of your mind. A dose of reality that he no longer has.  
“You completely lost yourself. How can you make dumb decisions like that?”  
“Their eyes gave Meteor City a profit that helped millions. I did it for our city.”   You shake your head no. “No, you did it for yourself. As some kind of sick powerplay! And everyone follows you blindly, and to do it without a thought. You guys kill for no reason. It didn’t use to be that way.”  
 Your lip wobbles at the memory of that day. You had gone up to Chrollo and went against the mission. It was stupid to you. It didn’t make any sense. They were going to kill these people because he wanted their eyes? You understand that he is greedy and increasingly vicious. But not cruel, not before the end. 
  He didn’t yell at you, but he did put you in your place with a stern yet calm voice. It was scary. Just as scary as he is now. You still couldn’t do it though. The thought of it made you cry.
So, he commanded you to keep watch and capture any stragglers. There were none. You ran away from the screams and ran into a boy with blond hair and blue clothing. A Kurta. The last one, to be exact. You begged him not to go over there. Afraid of his fate or him seeing the gruesome crime.  
  The Troupe were not there, only corpses. Eyes gouged out, bruises and bloody. Even the children. Lucilfer had become the devil himself.  
  You, without thought, took the boy in. You found a little village not too far away and raised him in a cottage. Unfortunately, you weren’t there every single day because of your “job”. One he knew nothing about.  
   Until your last day. You and Chrollo had been walking in Meteor City when Silva Zoldyck came. Someone called for him to eliminate the Troupe. Your dearest didn’t care that you aren’t really suited for fighting. Especially a Zoldyck.   
   That was your chance! So, when Silva had hit you with his Hatsu, you hid inside your energy and faked your death. It looked so real, felt like it too. It took a lot of healing and purifying to survive.  
  You had to do it. Your friends had lost their way. You couldn’t go along with it anymore.   
“You left.” You whimper. 
“Are you kidding me? I believe the one who abandoned the Spider, your friends, me, is you. My spoiled little brat .” He takes a few steps closer to your standing frame.   
“You went to a place where I couldn’t follow. It was no longer about finding Sarasa’s killers or protecting the city. The Spider turned evil. I knew it was happening but I didn’t face it until years later when you committed a pointless massacre.” He ignored you and talked over you.  
“You swore. And here I find you healthy, alive. While we are dying. We needed you and you left!” That ended with a powerful yell.   
“You didn’t care about me either. I was no match for Silva yet you were willing to sacrifice me. You went to a place I just couldn’t -can’t- follow.”  
  A tear drips down your face. His face is furious and slicked back hair is coming undone by him running his hand through it. He stops when he sees your tear. Instinct takes over and he wipes it.   
“Uvo, Paku, Shalnark, Korotopi. All gone and you could have stopped it. I was cursed by that boy to never talk to the Troupe again. We had to find an exorcist in Greed Island of all places because you decided we were trash.” His voice deceptively hushed and smooth. You shake your head no.  
“Not trash. Just bad leadership.”   
Chrollo’s eyes widen. This is the first time anyone has insulted his leadership. He immediately pulls your hair. You yelp and try to get out of his hold.  
“And yet you do not complain of the riches I gave your greedy ass.” He growls.  
“You are a profitable leader. A good provider. An excellent one. I hadn’t a need or want in the world,”  
You struggle to get out of his grip. It loosens as you speak. “But you aren’t a true leader. A true one would never endanger his people like you have. Never would view them as replaceable.”  
  He tosses you on the ground. You accidentally land on your wrist. Chrollo paces back and forth. “Replaceable? Bad leader-ha! Oh, love you are something.”  
   He grabs your arms roughly. You try to yank your arm out of his grasp. “You’ve already replaced me!”  
  Chrollo shakes his head no. “I could never.”  
“I’m sorry, Chrollie. I just-you-,” You take a deep breath. “Everything went downhill. We stopped looking for the killers like you promised. We weren’t Robin Hood anymore, either. Remember that story you read me? Take from the rich and give to the poor?”  
“I remember.”  
“It wasn’t that anymore. What was left was coldness and blood. And a boy whose life and childhood were taken from him. Just like ours. It wasn’t fair.”  
  “We support and provide for our home, not some random people.”  
Frustrated, you retort, “You like to listen to the sound of your own voice too much. That's why you don’t listen! You don’t realize actions have consequences until shit like Uvo and Paku happen.”  
  He raises his hand. You flinch to brace for it. This is the first time he will strike you.   
  Time is frozen as you wait for the pain. You open your eyes and see what’s the hold up. Chrollo stands frozen with his hand still in the air still. His face is no longer hardened, but shocked. His mouth is slightly open and eyes have widened. He stares at his open palm as if it had a mind of its own, and he couldn't believe it. 
Then he clears up once again to return to his previous deadly expression. Rather than striking you on your face, he lands his hand on your ass. You yelp at the impact. 
  “ Ow!” You rub the cheek he hit. “Why? Of all things?” Like him hitting your ass was supposed to be better than your face? It's demeaning! 
  He grabs your face with one hand and kisses you harshly, passionately. A confession, a return. Stupidly, you get lost in him like always.  
_______
“No! You play this instead.”  
“But I want to dub Cleanup Rangers...” Chrollo rubs his arm as he looks down at the nine year old. You were dropped off at the front doorstep of the church about a couple of years ago. Ever since then you’ve been a little terror. Always picking on people, on the priest, the entire city.   
  You are a tiny bully pushing everyone around because you’re hurt. Only Sarasa could fully calm you. While everyone else just visited the church from time to time, you were a child that had to live in it because no one liked you. You never got a nanny or substitute siblings. All you had was yourself and a priest who was often at his wits end. You had to follow him around and practice his teachings and study them. You were often times bored and thus angry at everything. 
Sarasa was a God send in his eyes and yours. Chrollo was someone who tried to follow in Sarasa’s footsteps with you but lacked the ability to tell you no. He was a patient and caring boy, but one you walk over.  
  “I don’t care! This one!” You stomp your feet.  
“Don’t let her push you around like that, Chrollo.” Uvogin recently hit a growth spurt, so he towered over you two completely.   
  “No! What I say goes. This one!” You show Uvogin the tape. “Do you even know what’s on it?”  
“No. But I want to see.”  
 Chrollo hums and places the tape inside. It turns out, it was blank. You pouted as Uvogin teased you. His smile is wide and practically glows. The laugh is boisterous and bounces off the walls. Immediately, you hit him in his most sensitive spot, causing him to buckle and groan.  
You scream at the top of your lungs. “Stop laughing at me!”   
  Laughter and a smile like that remind you too much of your parent when they dropped you off in this God forsaken, dirty, and polluted place. You hate it. “It’s okay. Here, we’ll do the Clean up Rangers and you can help if you want!”  
  Chrollo took out the blank tape and put it aside. He picked you up and placed you on the desk closest to him. Uvo hisses and glares at you. You frown and stick out your tongue.  
“Listen, you can play the-”  
“No. I'm scared of that.” He knows good and damn well you don’t listen. He looks at you confused until he deduces the problem. “Stage fright?”  
Confused, you ask, “What’s that?”  
 Uvogin groans in the background with every dirty word he can muster. He curses Chrollo for being so gentle with you and a “pushover”. You quickly tell him to shut up or you’ll hurt him even worse.  
  “It’s when you get scared to talk in front of a bunch of people.” You sat in front of him and nodded. “Okay, how about you have a front row seat then! Make sure you cheer us on, alright?”  
   You're still pouting. He rubs your cheek. You want to play with the rest of them too! They never let you play normal things. He hugs you and rubs your back to console you.  
“Trust me. It'll be fun!”  
___________
You wrap your arms around his neck, gently tugging at his hair. What was a proclamation of dominance, turned into an embrace of passion. You part from him slightly. You rub his chest and ask, “Why did you lose your way? Killing all of those people?”  
“Why did you stop trusting me?”  
“You are willing to sacrifice everyone, even me.”  That day with Silva Zoldyck was proof of your accusation, of your observation.  He sucks on your neck with the intent of a mark. You give him a gasp. Slightly muffled, “Why do you doubt me? Do you honestly think I would have? You stopped trusting me.”  
He nibbles on your ear. You try to pull away before you are totally caught in him. “The Kurta-”  
 “Are responsible for Sarasa’s death and for some of the trafficking of children. Getting rid of them was necessary. Do you understand?” He continues to kiss down your neck, making sure to suck on the best places. He holds you a little closer. 
You want to believe there was a deeper reason for the extermination of the Kurta. “You barely remember it, so it can’t be true. Hell, how can I believe you when you don’t care about anyone?” He slaps your ass again. You are this close to smacking the shit out of him. You rub your bum in hopes to stop the stinging.  
 “Stop that! That’s not funny!” You pull away to see an indifferent face for a split second.  Chrollo grabs the back of your hair and pulls you in once again. His personality flips like a switch. The sweetness is gone and back is the bloodlust and anger. Honestly, it never left. It was just hidden to trick you.  He's a good actor like that.
____________
“What are you guys doing?” Phinks groans at the sight of you. Recently, he had to pull Feitan out of the trashcan again. Next to him is Feitan saying words in his native tongue that would have made a sailor blush. You blow a kiss to them both just to antagonize them. 
“Enough, she’s part of the Spider now.” Chrollo, right on his forehead, has a cross tattoo that kind of resembles a web. You don't know where he got it done at. 
“Her? What can she do?” Machi crosses her arms. You always wondered if she liked Chrollie. If she knew what the two of you did last night, she’d scream.  
You’re still a little sore and flustered. But happy and satisfied. Never have you felt so good. At first it was so sweet and dare you say, loving. Then as the night went on it became animalistic.  
Rather than sit around him, waiting to hang on to his every word, you sit next to him, chomping on some chips you found. You hear some groans and mumbles about how you are and how you’re going to get away with everything. Again.  
You stick your tongue out and say, “That’s why I ain’t sharing...bitch ass.” Phinks crosses his arms. “Damn it...”  
“Enough,” He stares down at you. “Like I said, she is a leg. And an exorcist.”   
You feel his eyes on you again. You look up to see his eyes. “The fourth leg.”  
________
“You are coming home, now.” He drags you by the back of your neck.   
“Wait, stop!”   
“Shut the ever living fuck up.” He squeezes you harder. Wasn't he just loving on you like two seconds ago? You have always wondered if he was all there. He seemed genuine when he was a kid but seeing the man he's become, you may never know. 
  “Hold on! You said the Kurta killed Sarasa. How do you know?”   
“Sheila told us.”  
  You see the rest of the legs. They look unbothered until they see you. Shock is painted on their faces so vibrantly.   
“I thought...I thought she hadn’t seen you in years?”  You have a sense of confusion and suddenly, dread. 
____
Sheila limps to a cave. You see her as you run away from the Troupe and their horrific actions. This happened right before you would spot a blond boy. “Sheila?”   
“Oh my God!” She hugs you tightly. Her leg has always been messed up since she was a child.   
  You feel like crying at the sight of her. It has been you and the Spider for so long now, you were forgetting what Sheila was like. She was the closest thing you had to Sarasa. You had your own way of loving someone, but Sarasa seemed the most natural. A big sister, a mother even. A girl who always shared stickers with you and sang you to sleep.  
  “What’s going on?” She asks as you hug return her hug. “T-they’re killing them!”  
  “Who? Who’s dying?”   
“The Kurta!” Sheila gasps. “I was just with them. Oh no, did I-”  
You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “No, no. This is on them.”  
“And the Kurta were so nice too. Harmless, peaceful.”  
____
Why did she say that if she knew they killed Sarasa? When did her and Chrollo talk? You were with Chrollo the whole time, so it couldn’t have been that day.   
  You see Sheila in the background. She is looking down at the ground, then looks up with the most wicked smile and gleam. What? You stare back with horror. Never has she had that smile. It is foreign and totally misplaced. This is Sheila, not a Troupe member. Why is she even here? She isn’t a part of it and disapproved of the group.  
Then, everything is falling together.   
  Everyone’s faces are that of monsters.   
You don’t understand. She told them of their whereabouts. She said something completely different to you. And of course, you believed her. Her and Sarasa were like sisters. They were so close it was like looking at twins. Never would you have thought she could commit such a sin. The Kurta were innocent, but...what’s going on? Everyone was desperate to capture Sarasa’s killers-oh no. You stop moving your feet, only to be dragged by Chrollo Lucilfer. He moves his hand from your neck to your arm in a tight hold, tripping you along the way.  
  “No, no, no!” You’re trying to yank free. How can he not see it? He’s the smartest person you know. How can he not see what had taken place that day? The horror, the blood and mutilation. Chrollo, you must see this!   
The Kurta and Sarasa were innocent. Kurapika...your boy.   
“Chrollo, don’t you see?” You whisper for only him to hear. He looks down at you as the rain begins to fall gracefully.   
  You can feel the tears swell.  
Does he know what happened that day? That the Troupe and Sheila are monsters. And not just because of the Kurta’s extinction. You may not have all of the puzzle pieces, but by the reactions alone, it becomes clearer.  
Out of everyone here, you struggle to read him. Always have, even when you were kids. You only catch the truth from time to time when he gives it to you. They are few in between. 
  “Have they made a fool of you?” It is rare to one up Chrollo. His power can wipe nations, his aura is powerful and vast, his commanding tone is one that cannot be ignored.   
 “Sacrifices have to be made.” He bluntly answers without a hint of remorse or second thought. His tone is final and dead. Like he has nothing else to say about it.  
_______
“I’m fucking sick of her-!” Uvogin plops down on the chair. It creaks under him. Before Uvogin can continue his ranting, another voice pipes up on the matter of a certain little girl.   
“She’d...be fun.” His voice is recognizable to anyone due to his lack of pure fluency. His hair is choppy right now because a brat got her hands on a pair of scissors. The thick, black, strands are being fixed by Pakunoda. It isn’t the best, but at least it wouldn’t look as bad as it did.   
Machi taps her foot. “She would be, huh?”   
  “It can’t be us, though. Too obvious.” Shalnark points. Collectively, the friends are beginning to plan and imagine a better Meteor City.  
“Are you guys being serious, right now? This is a child you’re talking about.” Pakunoda taps on Feitan’s shoulder, signaling that she’s done. He turns back to look at her and answers, “Deadly.”  
  Machi sighs. “You’re right, Shal. It is too obvious. And we have rehearsal with Chrollo, too.”  
  Pakunoda crosses her arms. “This isn’t sitting right. Something is going to go wrong.”  
“Remember your shaved head?” Machi asks. Pakunoda tenses up at the memory of you butchering her hair. Who keeps giving you scissors? You would be cute with that crooked smile of yours if it wasn't caused by the loss of her hair. 
  “There are a lot more bad things going on in the city. Accidents happen all the time, Paku.” Nobunaga puts his hair into a bun. Pakunoda remains silent. “We can’t let anyone else know. Only ones in this room.”  
  As said, bad things happen to kids in Meteor City all the time.  
 
Sarasa decided to go find a tape instead of you since you have a habit of picking blanks. You stomped your foot in protest. You wanted to go! You’d finally had the right directions to pick up some good tapes, anyway. Alas, Sarasa went while Chrollo soothed you.  
She skips along and sees a few men ready to welcome her in the worst way.   
“Is it her?”  Uvogin’s heart is racing. It's pounding so loud it’s in his ears. The rain is the only outside noise as Chrollo reluctantly opens the bag.  
Chrollo opens the bag and sees the face of Hell. Uvo grabs him and demands to know what is on the note since he can't read it. The wrong face is behind that letter, that much is known. The wrong directions were given to the wrong child. Everyone needs to know. To hear the mistake and pain, the truth.  
The words on that letter will never be spoken.   
_____
“The Kurta is an isolated clan with special eyes. They'd be a good cover, no?” Sheila asks. Lately, Sarasa’s murder is being brought up more and more. Chrollo is turning into the leader that Meteor City needs. And an omnipotent being. A terrifying, controlling, mastermind of a god. One that demands respect and cooperation, devotion to what he’s created: a spider. But that spider has one weakness that at a drop of a hat, can cause this god to wreak havoc on everything. 
Calm and collected he appears, but thunderous when he strikes. Loyal to what is his, but horrible in all.   
  “So, the Kurta. Agree?”  
“Aye.” They say in unison. “It’s not like anyone would miss them.”  
_____
The more you study him, the more you wonder if he knows. Was he blind or was he in on it and spun that story of him finding her? How could any of them do this?   
“Please, not you...” You whisper. Chrollo’s book is open to a page fit for an exit. A green portal opens. “No! No, no, no!”  
You struggle even more as everything, except for Chrollo’s role, becomes clear. You are not the smartest, but you are stupid. Years in that blasted city has taught you valuable lessons of reading people. Years of knowing these people have given you an advantage on top of that. Well, not everything obviously. “Chrollo, what did you do?”  
He glances down at you once more. “I am the Head, my fourth limb. But even a spider has a treasure to keep.”   
  His grey eyes are dull but with the slightest hint of possessiveness. You'd recognize it anywhere. It is the same look he gave you when you saw him today, it is the same when you first met him and he had decided to keep you under his wing, it is the same as when you finally joined the Troupe. 
  This wicked gleam has always sought you, always found you. Unfortunately, you could never read them other than that. Like you said, he only shows what he wants you to see and even then, it is blurry. God, you wish you could. If only for a moment to answer your question. Just a straight answer, the truth, about how or why Sarasa died. She was innocent and sweet. She was your friend! Everyone’s, actually.  
 So, why? What could she have possibly done to deserve such a fate? How can he not see the true culprits? What about the Kurta? Did he know and went with it anyway?  
No, that’s a bad deal. It can’t be just one question and one answer. You have too many questions. And not a single one will be answered, you bet.   
  He drags you to the portal. The Troupe starts to enter it. Phinks looks at you for a split second. For that one second his eyes look...sad? No, that’s not possible with someone like him. Like them. You are accepting that you’re in danger, but not that these beasts have a heart or a capability of remorse.  
You look around frantically. Where's Kurapika? Is he dead?   
Would he save someone like you?  
“(Y/n), who are you looking for?” Chrollo asks. He doesn’t even look at you. You want to call out for Kurapika, but that’d expose him to danger. No, if your boy hates you let that be so. At least he’ll be okay. Hopefully he has learned to make his own attire.  
  “You can’t do this, Lucilfer.”   
“But dear, I can, I have, and I will.” A few more steps to the portal. “Lucilfer, I don’t want to go.”   
You yank your arm out of his grasp. “Stop this! I don’t want to go. Do you know what they did?”  
He calmly turns around and stares at you. He expected this behavior from you. He walks to your frozen form, causing the few survivors of the village to jump. Once again, he cradles your face and places the gentlest of kisses on your lips. They're still soft, you note. Still full and masterful. 
Right as your eyes are about to close, you see that he is looking at something past you as the kiss begins to get more intense. More possessive by his hold and the movement of his lips. His grey eyes are narrowed at something that you can’t see.  
Is this a claiming? What the hell is he looking at?   Done being curious, you turn to look and see your boy Kurapika’s horrified and furious expression. You have no thoughts other than your impending fate. Your vicious crimes and relentlessly cruel past have resurfaced in the form of a wicked man. The boy you took care of and never verbally admitted you loved him as your own, is ruined even more. His heart is broken.  
 Sarasa is gone, the Spider reigns supreme, and you are stuck. There are more questions than answers at this point. Too many lies from a group that cling together in some sick and twisted loyalty. You have accepted that in the middle of that is the boy you admired and maybe even loved.
And you finally understand what Phinks meant. It wasn’t remorse, it was pity for an old and spoiled friend as they are pushed onto the spider’s web.  
344 notes · View notes
babygirl-diaz · 7 months ago
Text
Possessive Much?
"Possessive much?" Eddie teased Buck when he dragged him to the jewelry store with him to buy the necklace.
"How does this make me possessive?" Buck huffed as he carefully assessed the pendant.
"Okay, then why are you buying this?" Eddie asked. "...And give me a reason that doesn't make you sound like a grade-A possessive bastard."
"I want to give my boyfriend a nice present," Buck replied as he put the pendant down and picked up another one. "And help me! I should have brought Maddie instead. You're useless."
"Maddie would have smacked you upside the head and dragged you out of here," Eddie told him. Buck saw him pick up one pendant before he exclaimed, "You're seriously gonna drop one grand on this? And that doesn't even include the chain!"
Buck shrugged. "Tommy deserves the best."
"Oh yeah? Then why not get him something like a bracelet?" Eddie asked.
"Because he can't wear a bracelet all the time," Buck replied.
"Which brings me back to my initial point. Possessive much?"
***
Buck was a little nervous. He didn't know if Tommy would like the present. And a voice in the back of his head, that suspiciously sounded like Eddie, told him he was taking it a little too far.
"You coming to bed, or are you gonna stand there the whole night?" Tommy asked in an amused voice as Buck shifted from one foot to another next to the bed.
"I have something for you," Buck told him and went to the closet to take out his present. He brought it over to Tommy and handed him the gift bag.
"It's not my birthday," Tommy said, confused. "Nor is it our anniversary. So what's the occasion?"
"Do I need an occasion to get my boyfriend presents?" Buck asked.
"I mean, if you were trying to get in my pants then I would say no, but you can get in my pants anytime you want so..."
Buck rolled his eyes and sat cross-legged on the bed, anxiously watching Tommy. "Open it!"
Tommy took out the long jewelry box from the bag, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Uh... This doesn't look like a ring box."
Buck's heart skipped a beat. "Did you want a ring?" He asked.
"Yes, Evan, I want a ring only after dating you for 7 months," Tommy replied sarcastically.
"Oh, thank god." Buck let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Tommy opened the black jewelry box and a soft gasp escaped his lips. "Whoa, this looks... expensive."
"You don't like it?" Buck asked, pouting at his boyfriend.
"No, no, I love it," Tommy carefully took out the silver chain from the box and whispered "Wow," as he surveyed the diamond-encrusted pendant shaped in the letter "E"
"Do you want me to put it on you?" Buck offered.
"Sure," Tommy replied and handed the necklace over to Buck.
Buck scooted closer to his boyfriend and carefully put the necklace around his neck.
Tommy gently touched the "E" and smiled. "Possessive much?"
"WHY does everyone keep saying that?" Buck threw his hands up in the air.
"Let me guess..." Tommy started and smirked at Buck. "You bought this because you don't like seeing others flirt with me and you want them to see this "E" around my neck and know that I am taken?"
Buck opened and closed his mouth a few times. "That's not- it's not- I can't believe- how could you even-" He tried to speak but just couldn't find the right words.
"I'm right, aren't I?" Tommy chuckled
"Yes," Buck huffed. "I want you to have this close to your chest as a constant reminder of who you belong to." The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
Tommy grabbed Buck by the shirt and pulled him forward, kissing him. He gave him bedroom eyes as he said, "You should have just bought me a collar instead."
Buck choked at that. "Really?"
Tommy shrugged. "This will have to do for now, I guess," he smirked and kissed Buck again.
140 notes · View notes
gaybananabread · 2 months ago
Text
•• @hexalianrebel-blackfeathers #16 (Cackle) with Gwen as Lee, possibly a little comfort with her being embarrassed of her laugh. Miles obviously adores her laugh, and Hobie just likes making her happy. ••
TickleTober Day 16 - Cackle
~YESSSSS I love it when tickles are simultaneously evil and loving (> w <) These goobers are always so fun to write. Going from silly, to reassuring, to a fun mix of the two is never not enjoyable to write. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy! Happy spooky month!~
Lee: Gwen
Lers: Hobie, Miles
Summary: During one of their rooftop lunches, Gwen lets it slip that she doesn’t like her laughter. Miles and Hobie are quick to remind her how much they love it; of course, what good’s an argument without a demonstration?
Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!
Tumblr media
“I'm just sayin’, I totally could've taken that guy by myself.”
“Oh, come off it! I did, like, ‘alf the work, ya brat!”
Miles laughed as a fry was flicked at his face, expertly catching it in his mouth. Him, Hobie, and Gwen were hanging out atop a random skyscraper for lunch after patrols.
It wasn't a rare occurrence for them to relax on the roof of a random building, goofing around while hundreds of feet from the ground. Pav was out on a mission with a few other spiders, sadly missing that hangout. Still, it was actually pretty nice up there.
“Alright, no fighting. Eat your fries before I do.” Gwen snatched a fry from each of their little baskets, making them gasp and snatch their precious cargo away.
“Oi, oi!! Message received, sticky fingers.” Hobie mock-glared at her before grabbing a handful of fries, nudging Miles, and shoving the entire wad into his mouth. He grinned, raising his brows as his cheeks puffed all the way out.
That wasn’t incredibly funny on its own, but seeing Hobie, the cool, badass Spider-Punk, stuffing a boatload of fries in his mouth? And his cheeks? Gwen and Miles were dead.
Miles barked out a laugh, dropping into a peal of amused giggles. Nothing too obnoxious – just an entertained reaction.
Gwen, on the other hand, reacted much more clamorously. With a snort, she broke into loud cackles, immediately covering her mouth when she realized how she sounded. The girl’s entire face burned with embarrassment, resembling a fresh strawberry.
“What’re you covering your mouth for?” Miles was the first to call her out, his brows quirking in a troubled manner. Why was she hiding?
“I…c’mon, Miles. Nobody wants to listen to that.” Gwen huffed, squirming from the suddenly serious mood shift. Damn her and her big mouth…
Hobie put a stop to that immediately, swallowing his fry hoard as quickly as he could. One of his large hands hooked around her waist, easily pulling the girl into his chest. Tilting her head, he looked her dead in the eyes; even with fry crumbs in the corner of his mouth, he looked resolute.
“Shu’ up wit’ that. We love you, loud laughs an’ all. You couldn’ scare us away if ya screamed bloody fuckin’ murder.” Hobie’s tone, while loving, was firm, leaving absolutely zero room for argument.
Mile’s hand settled on her knee, tracing gentle shapes on it. She resented the smile that immediately tugged at her lips, trying to force it down.
“Who cares how loud or crazy you laugh? It’s unique, Gwen. If every painting looked the same, who’d bother with ever thinkin’ about them?” The teen’s tracing grew more intentional, his nails scraping across the most sensitive spots on her kneecap. They wouldn’t seriously…
Oh, who was she kidding; they absolutely would.
“G-guhuys, I get it. Just- EEEK! L-lemme goho!” Gwen flinched as a large hand squeezed her side, sending jolts of teasing electricity all throughout her midriff. It really wasn’t fair, how easily such a simple touch could put her on edge.
“Nah, see, I don’ fink you do, Gwenny. We gotta show ya.” Hobie gave her hip a little squeeze, his eyes lifting up to meet Miles’s. “Ain’t that right, smiles?”
Miles, who was grinning adoringly at the blonde, blinked and nodded. “Uh, y-yeah. If you’re not gettin’ it, it’s our moral responsibility to make sure things sink in.”
“Thahat doesn’t even make any- pfffFFAHAHAHA! FUHUHUCK, HOHOBIE!” Gwen didn’t even get to finish her sentence before the punk got to work on her belly, squishing and teasing the soft skin beneath her navel. Miles was quick to join in, gently fluttering his fingers beneath her knees.
Gwen immediately began to thrash and squirm, not even trying to hold still. Hobie just brought his legs around to hold her thighs and waist, saving Miles from a kick to the face. Their combined efforts tickled like crazy; of course they went for some of her worst spots right off the bat. Chivalry truly was dead…
“W-WAHAHAHAIT! HOHOBIE!” Shaking her head, Gwen’s stomach bubbled with giddy anticipation, feeling Hobie’s teasing move towards her navel. The jerk just chuckled and blew her a kiss before dipping a finger in, causing her to lose her mind.
“NYAHAHAHA! *snort* FAHAHAHACK!” Gwen broke down into loud, shrieking cackles, with the occasional snort peppered in. Hobie just rolled his eyes affectionately.
“The lip on this one. Oi Miles, ‘ow can a gal wit’ such a pretty laugh ‘ave such a foul mouth?”
“I dunno, man. Sure is fun to listen to, though.” Miles’s voice was tooth-rottingly dreamy, revealing just how mystified he was by Gwen’s laughter. She felt her face heat up even more, her blood practically turning to molten magma beneath her skin.
“SHAHAHAT UHUHAHAP!” Gwen tried to protest, but it was fruitless; she obviously wasn’t going anywhere until she either admitted her laugh wasn’t terrible or hit her absolute limit. Eh…she wasn’t gonna cave. If they wanted her to fluster herself, they’d have to work for it.
“Ooo, she sounds happy. Want me to get her feet?” Miles offered, making Gwen scoff through her laughter. Hobie smirked and nodded, not letting up on her poor navel for even a second. “Be my guest, Miles. Just watch fer flyin’ kicks.”
“T-TRAHAHAITOHOR!” Technically, he’d “betrayed” her the moment he touched her knee, but going for such a ticklish spot felt like the final nail in her tickly coffin. Miles was so getting it later.
The moment his fingers pressed into her arches, Gwen saw stars. Her cackling, screeching laughs echoed across the rooftops of New York, disturbing any poor house pets within the area. No matter how fiercely she thrashed, Hobie held strong, Miles’s headlock around her ankles never loosening.
“OHO- OHOHO MYHY GAHAHAHAHA! *snort* HAHAHAHA!” The blonde couldn’t even speak, the only thing on her mind being the intense sensation of the tickles. Then, of course, the two shitheads somehow made it worse.
“Hear that? Music to my ears, luv~” Hobie hummed in her ear, barely audible over her own ruckus. Miles joined in as well, though he had to speak much louder to be heard.
“You look so beautiful right now, Gwen. Like, seriously. Never hide this from us.”
Wow. She hadn’t been expecting such a vehement statement from Miles, feeling as his words set her mind and heart alight. It was all so much. Too much, at that point. Her closed fist began pounding on Hobie’s thigh, tapping out in the most sane way she could manage.
Hobie stilled his fingers immediately, kicking Miles’s back to let him know she’d tapped out. He, too, ceased his tickling, instead crawling over to cuddle up against the other two spiders.
Hobie’s warm hands softly rubbed her stomach to help her calm down. He offered her his half-bottle of Arnold Palmer, which she greedily gulped down. The tea refreshed her and soothed her throat, while the sweetness of the lemonade left a nice taste in her mouth.
Miles’s hand found hers, gently running his thumb across her knuckles. The other wrapped around her, pulling her closer so they were leaning against Hobie in a three-way cuddle.
“So, Gwenny, what’d we learn today?” The punk’s lovingly smug tone made her want to both hug and strangle him at the same time.
When she didn’t answer, Miles skittered his fingers along the top of her thigh, making her squeak and jerk her leg up. “Ohokay, okay! Jeez…”
“Answers, luv.”
“Thahat my laugh isn’t terrible, and I shouldn’t hide it,” she grumbled, snuggling into their warm embraces. Man, even if the tickles were ruthless, the aftercare felt heavenly… “Especially from you boys. Happy?”
“Ecstatic. I might even do a little dance.” Miles wiggled his eyebrows at Gwen, earning an endeared huff and a boop from the exasperated girl. Hobie just chuckled at the scene, giving them both a squeeze as he wrapped them up in his long arms.
“Al’ight, bo’fa you behave. I still got some tickles in the tank, an’ I ain’t afraid to use ‘em.” That made them both settle back down rather quickly. He rolled his eyes and pecked the tops of their heads, listening to their breathing mingle with the sounds of the city. It was so perfect…
“Love you two.” The simple words were said so softly that both sets of eyes below him snapped upwards, each full of some kind of gooey emotion. They weren’t used to that tone from Hobie; it was wonderful.
“Love you too, Hobie.” Miles gave his arm a squeeze, his gaze warm and contented.
“Same here, Hobs. Even if you are a big meanie.” She tacked on the extra sass, but it honestly only made her statement feel more genuine.
Hobie laid back on his discarded flannel, pulling them with him. They were definitely having lunch there again. Sometime very, very soon.
53 notes · View notes
harrywavycurly · 3 months ago
Note
Sarah so not that SC needs drama BUTTTT Thomas Rhett has a new song called Country for California and it so could’ve been written by someone from SC girlie’s hometown and I’m just imagining her hearing it and wondering if she should tell Harry? And then him not knowing how to handle it and imagine him writing a response track?!? 👀😳💓💓
Hiiii lovey!! Okay so I do love drama but I feel like my little Southern Comfort babies just need to be protected from it (mainly Harry he is enough of a mess ya know?) BUT I did do this in a fun-ish kinda way that you still see Harry’s reaction to the song and it ends fluffy so I hope you enjoy it! 💖
Find all things Southern Comfort here✨
Disclaimer: In this I don’t mention Thomas Rhett being the singer nor the songwriter, all that’s mentioned is your ex has an album out and it’s about you and I use the song mentioned above as well as the album it’s on so I’m in NO way shape or form saying your ex bf is Thomas Rhett ✨
CW: Language
A/N: Harry calls for an emergency meeting at the studio where things get a little out of hand, enjoy jealous Harry and the very first look at how you interact with the one and only Mitch Rowland✨
Tumblr media
“I'll be sittin' right here at this bar with a drink, waitin' on ya,” Harry clenches and unclenches his jaw as the words spill from the speakers in the studio, he closes his eyes and tries to calm himself a bit as the song comes to an end.
“Oh If you find out you're too country for California” Once the music begins to fade out Harry hits the stop button as he chews on his bottom lip, he looks up at Niall who is standing next to him with his arms crossed over his chest and Harry quirks a brow when he notices his head still bopping to the beat of the song that Harry just played for him.
“S’good.” Niall says with a shrug as one of his hands fall to his hip while the other reaches over to the bin of cookies that’s sitting on the edge of the control panel that Harry’s sitting in front of. “You covering it or s’mthing?” He asks as he grabs a chocolate chip cookie from the bin and Harry has to fight the urge to smack it out of his hand. “Or did you write it? Tryin to get into the country scene are ya?” He questions once he sees the glare Harry gave him at his first question but when Harry just stands up with a huff Niall knows the answer to his questions are clearly a no.
“Her fucking ex wrote it you knob.” Niall raises an eyebrow as he takes a bite of the cookie in his hand as he watches Harry begin pacing around the studio. “He wrote a song about how he’s going to be there waiting for her when she realizes moving to California was a mistake…that I’m a fucking mistake.” Niall lets out a scoff making Harry turn and glare at him but Niall just ignores it as he finishes off his cookie before he takes a step towards his bestfriend.
“Harry this song has literally nothing to do with you mate.” Harry rolls his eyes as he runs both hands through his hair tugging at his roots and letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m serious this song is just his way of saying that if she decides that this wasn’t a good idea he’s there for her and I mean s’kinda romantic if-”
“Romantic? You think some twat writing a song about how he’s waiting for my girlfriend at a bar with a drink and a smile is romantic? Get fucking real Niall.” Niall places a hand on Harry’s shoulder trying to get him to relax but all Harry does is shrug it off as he heads for his phone that’s on the little table in front of the couch that’s on the back wall of the small space.
“I think you’re blowing this way out of proportion mate I mean when was this even wri-”
“This year.” Harry snaps as he grabs his phone off the table and when he turns around he sees Niall rubbing his lips together and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand that’s not resting on his hip he thinks maybe now Niall understands why he’s taking this so seriously.
“Oh okay I mean still it’s just a song.” Niall explains trying his hardest to reason with Harry who is opening up his notes app on his phone as he sits back down in the chair he was sitting in when Niall walked into the studio not even half an hour ago. “People are allowed to write songs about their ex girlfriends ya know? You’ve done it yourself so you can’t really be that-”
“It’s a whole fucking album Niall not just a song it’s an album. Want to know the name of the album?” Harry doesn’t wait for Niall to respond before he messes around on his phone and brings the album up and shoves the screen in his friend’s face. “Something About a Woman…the woman he’s referring to? Yeah that would be my fucking girlfriend so I don’t want to hear how people can write about their exes because no shit of course people can write about whatever or whoever the fuck they want but now…now Niall I have to respond.” Niall’s eyes go wide as he looks from the phone screen that’s been aggressively shoved in his face to Harry who’s cheeks are pink and nostrils are flared and if Niall were to look at his free hand that’s resting in his lap he’d see it was clenched into a fist, all clear signs that Harry is pissed off.
“You-what? Respond?”
“Yes I can’t have someone writing albums about my girlfriend and not say something.”
“You’ve gone full fucking looney mate this album has nothing to do with you.”
“It has to do with her therefore it has to do with me Niall don’t be a wanker.”
“Harry be so fucking for real right now…this isn’t some rap beef okay? He wrote about his feeling for his ex that’s all…it’s not like he insulted her or anything.”
“That’s not the fucking point!” Niall rolls his eyes as Harry tosses his phone to the side letting it land on the table with a loud thud. Harry takes a few deep breaths and lets them out through his nose doing his best to calm down because Niall isn’t the one he’s upset with so he doesn’t want to take his anger out on him.
“I’m not sure I see the point Harry.” Niall tells him as he reaches for another cookie but this time Harry can’t help himself and he snatches the bin away just before Niall’s hand can reach it. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“I swear to god I will ban cookies from the studio if you don’t start actually helping me figure out what to do.” He knows this is a dramatic way to get what he wants but he also knows that if there’s one thing that can get people to do something it’s his girlfriend’s baking.
“That’s harsh man.” Both Niall and Harry turn their heads to look towards the couch and see Mitch sitting there with his hands resting in his lap as he just shakes his head at Harry.
“When the bloody hell did you get here?” Niall asks with a raised brow making Mitch just sigh as he stands up from the couch and walks over towards the two of them.
“Been here the whole time..H said something about an emergency so..I showed up.” He answers with a shrug as he places a hand on Harry’s shoulder making him look up at him. “You know that if you really do want to respond to the song or album…which is a really bad idea by the way…it has to be in the same genre as the original right?” Harry purses his lips for a moment as Mitch’s words hit him and Niall can’t help but let out a little chuckle at the idea of Harry trying to come out with a country record.
“The fuck you giggling at? I could make a country record you bad knee having twat.” Niall rolls his eyes as Harry glares at him while Mitch just gives Harry’s shoulder a pat before he reaches down and uses Harry staring at Niall as a distraction and takes a cookie from the bin he has clutched in his hands.
“You’re very British.” Mitch states before taking a bite of his cookie making Niall’s eyes go wide as he looks from the cookie to the bin in Harry’s hands. Harry looks down at the cookie bin and then back to Mitch with a raised brow because when did he even grab one? How did he not notice it?
“Post Malone just dropped a whole country album.” Harry states as if it’s a valid argument and Mitch just takes another bite of his cookie before responding.
“Yeah but he’s from Texas and he pretty much sounds the same singing as he does when he’s rapping.” Mitch explains before finishing off his cookie and brushing his hands off on his shirt all while Niall is just staring at him with a hint of jealousy in his eyes because he could really go for another cookie but no way in hell is he getting one while the bin is still in Harry’s hands.
“I’ve sang country songs before.” Harry is grasping at straws now and he knows it but he refuses to give up so Mitch just nods before turning and heading back for the couch.
“I mean yeah you’ve covered them so they sound like your style of singing and not their original traditional country sound.” Niall watches Harry’s face as Mitch speaks and it’s like watching a balloon deflate. Harry slowly starts to slump in his seat as his shoulders relax and the corners of his mouth are dipping downwards in a frown and normally Niall wouldn’t like seeing him look so upset but honestly anything is better than how angry he was a few minutes ago.
“So you’re saying…I shouldn’t do anything about it then?” Harry asks as Mitch takes his seat back on the couch while Niall slowly reaches towards the bin that Harry has loosened his grip on.
“Take it as a compliment man.” Mitch says with a shrug making Harry roll his eyes just as Niall’s hand touches a cookie. “We all know she’s song worthy and I know it sucks someone else is singing about her but just let it go.” Niall’s hand freezes when he looks up from the bin and sees Harry glaring at him.
“Put the cookie down.” Niall lets out a loud groan as he drops the cookie back into the bin. “No more cookies for you since you didn’t help me at all.” With that he grabs the lid to the cookie bin but before he can close it Niall reaches over and grabs the bin from Harry’s hands and rushes over to the coffee table in front of Mitch and stands on it holding the bin just out of Harry’s reach. “Real fucking mature Niall.” He snaps as he stands up and places both hands on his hips as he glares at his bestfriend who just shoves a whole cookie into his mouth with a shrug.
“It’s a rational response.” Mitch defends making Niall turn his head and give Mitch an approving nod since his mouth is still full. “The cookies are the main reason half of us even enjoy coming to work.” Harry takes a step to the side so he can raise an eyebrow at his friend’s admission while Niall just takes a bite of another cookie before bending down and handing one to Mitch who takes it with a smile and a nod of appreciation.
“Oh and the muffins.” Niall adds looking at Mitch who nods in agreement because he does love when he walks in and there’s a basket of muffins on the coffee table.
“And the bread-“
“I get it okay? You lot only come for the damn snacks.” Harry says while throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration, not enjoying the two of them listing off the baked goods they enjoy coming to the studio for more than the idea of actually working on something with him.
“Don’t blame em you’re a right fuckin twat in the studio sometimes Harry and you-”
“Honey I’m sorry for-“ All three men turn to look at you as you walk through the door making you immediately stop talking when you see the scene in front of you. “Niall James Horan why the hell are you standing on the coffee table holding the cookie bin?” Niall’s cheeks go pink as you place a hand on your hip but then you take a step further into the room and see Harry who is doing everything in his power to avoid looking at you.
“Harry said I couldn’t have anymore cookies because I didn’t help him write a song.” Niall blabs as he remains standing on the table pointing at your boyfriend who is looking down at his feet. “Said he was gonna ban them from the studio.” He adds just to really make sure you understand the severity of the situation because in Niall’s mind this is a serious issue and this isn’t even his studio but he’s here enough that if there’s no more cookies he really just doesn’t see himself ever wanting to come back.
“Things have gotten a little out of hand.” You turn your attention away from the Irishman on the table and smile when you see Mitch sitting on the couch with his hands folded together in his lap.
“So I’ve gathered.” Mitch just gives you a small smile as you reach down and give his knee a gentle pat. “You mind giving us the room precious?” You ask and Mitch doesn’t hesitate to just stand up and head for the door giving you a little pat on your shoulder on his way past you. Niall follows him, quickly stepping off the table and heading for the door. “You leave that cookie bin on the table Niall James.” You hear a low sounding whine coming from behind you making you just roll your eyes at Niall’s dramatics.
“But I-”
“But nothin Niall you know you’ll eat yourself sick if I let you take the whole bin with you now be a good little puddin pop and close the door behind you please.” You don’t even look at him as you talk, too concerned with the way Harry is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and looking down at his feet but you know Niall did what you asked when you hear the soft click of the door closing.
“I wasn’t really going to ban cookies from the studio.” Harry mumbles as you take a few steps towards him. “I know you enjoy baking them for everyone.” You smile at his words because of course he’d never ban your cookies or baked goods from the studio because Harry knows how happy baking them makes you.
“Sugar is this about the song?” Harry’s head snaps up and his eyes go wide as you reach out so you can try to grab his hands.
“You know about the song?” You give him a look and he just lets out a sigh and uncrosses his arms allowing you to grab his hands. “Of course you know about the song.” He half mumbles to himself as he feels you pull his arm around your waist, placing your hands over his so he keeps them there.
“It’s just a song honey.” Harry wants to believe you, he wants to just be able to brush it off as just some song but he can’t and he hates how it’s making him feel. “Harry.” His name sounding sweet and soft as it slips out of your mouth is what makes him finally give in, you smile when you feel him pull you into his chest making your cheek press against the soft material of his hoodie as your arms snake around his middle giving him a nice squeeze while his stay locked around your waist.
“I know you’re upset and that’s fine sugar because you’re allowed to be upset about this but please know it doesn’t meant anything to me okay?” You feel Harry place his lips on the top of your head as you begin rubbing his back trying to soothe him.
“I just hate knowing someone else is writing songs about you.” You can’t help but chuckle making Harry pull away from you a bit so he can look down at you and you just roll your eyes playfully when he raises an eyebrow at you.
“Oh come on honey you have a whole album written about you and you don’t see me all huffin and puffin.” You watch Harry’s face as he tries to think of an album that could possibly be written about him and you just laugh and go back to resting your head on his chest. “It’s a great album I’ll give you that much so maybe that’s why I don’t mind but also it’s Taylor Swift so what exactly am I supposed to do? Bake her an angry cake?” You feel Harry’s arms go stiff as it finally clicks which album you’re referring to so you just tilt your head so your chin is resting on his chest and you’re looking up at him. “You think she’d like a cake? Or maybe some cookies?” You ask in an attempt to lighten the mood and when Harry just looks down at you with a playful glare you know it’s worked.
“If you send her cookies I get to send him a strongly worded letter.” You bite back a laugh at his suggestion as you get up on your tiptoes making a small smile appear on Harry’s face when he leans down to meet your lips in a sweet little kiss. “Or maybe I’ll just let it go?” He asks as you try to pull away but he’s quick to bring one of his hands up to cup the side of your face keeping you from going too far even when you drop from being on your tiptoes. “Yeah I’ll just let it go.” He answers before he presses his lips against yours for another kiss.
“Smart thinkin sugar plum” Your voice is reassuring and Harry smiles as you turn your face and place a kiss to the palm of his hand that was cupping your cheek. “Have you written any songs about me?” You ask as Harry places a kiss to your forehead before standing up straight, he gives you a little smile as his thumb begins gently brushing against your cheek.
“Just a few hundred.” You want to roll your eyes and shove at his chest and tell him to be serious but something tells you he’s not joking or at least not totally. “But the fun is watching you try to figure out which ones they are.” He teases and you just stare at him for a moment and it’s as if all of a sudden it dawns on you that he actually has written songs about you and you can’t help but feel your eyes begin to get watery and your bottom lip starts to tremble.
“Oh my god.” Normally Harry would be panicked if he saw you on the verge of tears and heard your voice crack but he knows what’s happening and he understand it’s a lot to take in, the idea of someone caring enough about you to write a song about you is a lot. “You really like me huh?” Your voice is watery but it just makes Harry smile and chuckle a little as he brings his other hand up to hold the other side of your face.
“I do yeah.” He answers with zero hesitation as he leans down and kisses the tip of your nose. “I’m a bit obsessed with you baby.” He adds with a smile as you reach up and place your hands over his that are on your face just as he leans a bit further down and gives your lips a sweet kiss that leaves you with a grin when he pulls away.
84 notes · View notes