#he has a single toe claw bc i said so

[peregrinethegryphon]

more zubat propoganda

#pokemon #zubat #golbat #crobat #pokemon fanart #bat #he has a single toe claw bc i said so #peregrine op #peregrine art

[dragonbored]

Do forgive me for not making anything specific to certain characters , but I have some oc questions for u!

1. What textures do they like the best? Clothing or otherwise

2. What’s the thing they just can’t not feel awe and admiration about? Is it a place? How about a person?

3. How much do they care about their hair? They a 13 different additives every morning, or a ‘shower in the next month or two’ type of person?

4. What kinda freaks em out? Not like full on panic, but just a general sense of uncomfortable-ness. Like the thought of stubbing your toe real bad.

5. If they had a pet, what would they be most likely to name it?

6. Preferred living space aesthetics? Do they like classic Victorian, or a warm cozy cabin?

7. How do they keep their living space? Is it the ‘everything is organized, just in the messiest way possible’, or something a little bit more elaborate?

8. Have they got any stuffed animals or other toys?

That’s it for now but if I come up with any more I will send them to you :} I hope they were useful!!

omg hiii

read more bc i’m determined to answer these questions for all 3 of my main ocs. i would’ve added my eso gals but then this would be TOO long

1. What textures do they like the best?

i have utterly no knowledge of textures, i don’t notice them enough to know what certain things feel like and i have no clue what textures would exist in tes so i made some stuff up

azug: azug is like weirdly into the texture of the berries in a crostata. she likes jazbay grape crostatas the best

megana: megana really likes cashmere — remember, she’s an imperial rich girl, it was the favored winterwear when she grew up in cheydinhal. it’s not as trendy in skyrim but she has a couple shawls she busts out for special occasions

antony: antony just likes anything that isn’t itchy. he grew up a little street urchin and is used to poorly made clothes

2. What’s the thing they just can’t not feel awe and admiration about?

azug: azug admires courage. she’s courageous herself but she’s also very anxious and can’t help but admire others for being brave too

megana: megana will forever be awed by other’s magical skill. she’d be in the middle of a wizard battle mentally ranting about the other mage’s cool epic spells

antony: antony LOVES statues. he doesn’t like people he Does like statues. and nature in general

3. How much do they care about their hair?

azug: she washes it but she keeps it under a hood a lot of the time so like. hood hair

megana: literally not at all her hairstyle is very just “practical” (it’s not it flies in her face all the time but she doesn’t want it shorter and likes not having to style it)

antony: he washes it when there’s blood in it. that’s it

4. What kinda freaks em out?

azug: azug hated every single creature she discovered on solstheim. just solstheim as a whole actually, she doesn’t enjoy it

megana: trolls.

antony: he thinks imps are kind of freaky. they’re strange little flying men. and they have no genitals. enough said

5. If they had a pet, what would they be most likely to name it?

azug: azug’s closest thing to a pet is her horse, hjalte. he’s like her equine bestie. she named him that because the stablemaster told her he had a habit of helping travelers fight off wolves (he’d then disappear back into the wilds. he just likes stomping shit. one time he kept antagonizing erik and lucien. he likes to fuck around)

megana: she does have a pet! it’s thistle. but she was already named. if megana had to pick a name she’d probably go for Magnus or some such. maybe name it after a spell

antony: antony does not have an interest in pets. if he did have one it’d be a dog and he’d either find some obscure hero to name it after or name it something stupid like Claw

6. Preferred living space aesthetics?

going for in-universe aesthetics, not victorian and such

azug: she likes whiterun style. that’s why she still lives in the tundra homestead despite it being tiny for her and her two grown men besties

megana: she always loved the fuck off huge stone walls of the imperial city. she lives in myrwatch now, which has similar big stone but she tries to keep it cozy

antony: he likes chorrol but the house there is way too huge for him, he likes smaller places. just by my memory of the city houses i think bruma would be the best for him

7. How do they keep their living space?

azug: cluttered. stuff gets knocked over every time she goes home. she says her stuff is organized but she forgets how half the time

megana: mostly organized but how organized can a mage really be. her things have proper places but that doesn’t stop her from setting them down randomly

antony: organized. he doesn’t have the patience to be forgetting where he put stuff

8. Have they got any stuffed animals or other toys?

azug: when she was little she had a stuffed mud crab and now she thinks of it every time she sees one (she tries not to kill them)

megana: she doesn’t keep one, but when she finds dolls she sometimes take them to practice spells on (she thinks it’s funny). she also once sewed a shitty little stuffed carrot for thistle, who promptly tried to eat it, and it was confiscated

antony: no because he’s a little bitch

this took me an hour to answer. i hope this is satisfactory ❤️❤️

#oc: antony #oc: megana arterius #oc: azug gra-lurak #oc talk

[sourbkg]

𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜

[𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎]

➪ synopsis: a villain hits you with a quirk that makes you forget things. 

➪ pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader 

➪ warnings: angst, cursing, reader & bkg are 3rd years!, for plot reasons: dadzawa/dadzashi, eri is ur lil sis bc i said so <3

➪ word count: 4k+

➪ a/n: i think this is the longest fic i’ve ever written. ty @bokunokangae​ + @a-boy-is-a-gun​ for being my beta reader ily guys. 

No one would ever guess Bakugou Katsuki was a sucker for planning dates. Or maybe he’s just a sucker for you. Regardless, he’s good at anything he does, and this includes taking you on an unforgettable trip in the city for your belated one year anniversary. 

You never thought you’d date Bakugou, having joined U.A. late in your first year and getting belittled by the blonde; claiming you’d fall behind quickly due to not being there from the start, and singling you out in an effort to wear down your will. You butted heads constantly, and when everyone found out who your parents were, things only escalated. You don’t know when, you don’t know why, and you definitely don’t know how, but by some miracle, the bickering simmered down and began to mold itself into something different.

Something entirely new that neither of you would expect. 

By your second year, you’re dating, and that leads to where you stand now- in your third year, holding the blonde’s hand while walking to the next meticulously planned date spot. Bakugou gave no hints as to where your next location would be, despite your persistence in asking. 

“Not even a hint?” You question, tilting your head to the side. The streets are empty, save for a couple stragglers who pay you no mind, and the warm night air keeps your spirits high. 

“Nothing.” He replied, not looking at you. He can feel your pout. 

“How about if I guess?” 

“Nope.” 

“Are we going to the record shop I like? Or maybe to the food truck with all the spicy noodles? Or maybe-” 

“I’m not gonna tell you if you’re right, so you might as well stop.” He rolls his eyes. You huff. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you keep your surprises-”

A yelp is drawn from your lips as you pass an alley; something- no, someone pulling you into the darkness. Your grip on Bakugou’s hand is lost at the sudden game of tug-o-war, and despite your training, it takes a moment for you to process what exactly is happening. Bakugou is quick to act, attempting to take you back from the offender's embrace, but the sight of metal being pressed against your neck makes him hesitate, before he’s stopping altogether. 

“What do you want?” He asks, voice rough while his palms spark. His eyes continue to look over your form, to the person who has you hostage. An opening. All he needs is an opening. 

You feel nothing but helpless, attempting the shy away from the blade that presses against your skin. The man holding you gives a laugh. You don’t find any of this funny. 

“You may not know me, but I know you- Child of Aizawa.” 

Everything clicks quickly as he continues to speak- over-explaining as villains do. How your father threw him in jail, how he fought tooth and nail to get break out, and how he planned on ruining one of his most important things in his life- you. 

Villains who seek vengeance through others are nothing but cowards. Someone using you against your parents is truly the worst, especially now as it interferes with your date with Bakugou. 

“Your bone to pick is with my father,” you can’t help but bite, wincing when the metal nips deeper into your skin, “I don’t have anything to do with his affairs.” 

It’s not entirely the truth, but you’re buying yourself time. You can see the calculations running through Bakugou’s head, the possible ways he can go about this without you getting hurt- you just need to get him an opening. A time where you’re out of the way so he can give this guy hell. 

“Maybe,” the villain's breath fans against your cheek, you hold in a gasp at the feeling, “but I’m sure you can imagine the look on his face when he sees his child, beaten and bloodied due to his own faults.” 

You’re throwing your head back at the man’s face without a second thought, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose. The knife splices against your skin as you jerk away, but it’s not the worst injury you could’ve sustained through such a reckless move. You wrangle your body out of his grip just in time for Bakugou to whirl past you, unleashing a hellfire of punches while you press a hand to your neck. 

There’s only a moment of reprieve, before Bakugou’s being thrown to the side like a ragdoll. You can only stare as he’s slammed into the wall of the alleyway, while the villain stands as if his punches did nothing. But you know your boyfriend. He’ll get up and finish this guy, he just needs a moment- 

The villain's eyes settle on you. You make out a smirk forming under his hoodie. 

“Now where were we?” 

Your quirk is a simple one. It allows you to move through shadows, but there’s a couple rules; you must have a destination chosen to exit- if not, you’ll just be spit out in a random shadowed area. Your eyes always take a moment to adjust when you come back to the ‘real’ world, and you’re always so cold after going through the realm of shadows. It’s dark. It depletes a lot of your energy. 

Bakugou still isn’t moving. 

Your eyes flicker to your boyfriend, then you feel yourself being swallowed by the shadows. Your chosen point of exit is right behind the villain, in hopes of knocking him unconscious before he can do anymore damage. It seems he’s done his research on you, on your quirk, because he’s prepared. You’re unready for his retaliation, grabbing you by the throat and slamming you against the ground. 

Clawing at his wrist does nothing, kicking at him does nothing. He’s unaffected by any weak attempt you have at fighting back, grip on your neck only increasing. There’s no shadows for you to disappear into, there’s nothing in the alley to aid you, and your struggling is just getting weaker and weaker the longer his hands cover your windpipe. 

He holds one hand over your face, letting you watch as his fingertips glow a dark red color. His quirk. You know nothing about his quirk. He grins as you struggle with new vigor. 

“My quirk is nothing special,” he turns his hand so his palm faces up, examining his own fingers, “but the backlash is extraordinary. How would you feel about forgetting the people you care about? How will you parents feel, knowing they’re the cause for this sudden amnesia?” 

He presses the tips of his fingers against your temple. You don’t feel anything at first, before you’re feeling it all at once. Memories flash in front your eyes, only to disappear into a blank slate seconds later. There’s an explosion going off that feels like it’s miles away, but the pressure being removed from your neck tells you it’s Bakugou. Your mind goes white, then you’re unconscious. 

When you wake up, your adrenaline is spiked. Sitting up and looking around hurts like a bitch, but you’d be damned if you weren’t ready to fight again. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lights above you, and the blurred voice of someone telling you to calm down brings your attention to the right. 

“Oh my god, we didn’t know when you’d-” 

It’s Hizashi, you can make out the blonde hair falling over his shoulders from his loose bun. Blinking a few times helps your eyes, and you rub at them with the heel of your palm, looking around the room once more. 

A hospital. You’re in a hospital. But why? You don’t….. Oh. Oh. 

The villain really did some damage to you and Bakugou, huh? 

Why were you with Bakugou in the first place?

“-an you hear me? Do I need to go get the doctor? Sho just left to get some coffee, I wish he w-” 

“I’m okay.” You say, voice rough and throat dry. Hizashi offers a bottle of water that you take gratefully. 

“‘M gonna go get the doctor, let them know you’re-” 

You’re reaching out to grab his arm without realizing, grip weak, but it’s enough to make him falter and look at you. 

“Please don’t leave me.” 

It’s a whispered request, yet he hears it loud and clear. With a nod, he’s sitting back down and pressing a button beside your bed to call for a nurse. Your mind is still frazzled, but you find enough sense to ask a few questions. 

How long you’ve been unconscious, if they caught the villain, what happened after you passed out. 

Three days, no, Bakugou called an ambulance before he passed out himself were the answers you received. You open your mouth to ask another question, maybe why you were with the blonde, before a doctor steps in with Shouta. 

Shouta looks tired. Both of them do, but he gives a small smile when he realizes you’re awake.

 The doctor introduces herself, and explains what they believe is wrong with you. They think you have a concussion and ask you simple questions. The year, what school you go to, what year you’re in, what class, and if you can name some people for her. 

She starts with the two men sitting beside your bed. 

“Do you know who these two are?” 

You nod, “Hizashi Yamada and Shouta Aizawa.” 

“And their relationship to you?” She prompts. 

“My parents.” 

“Good, okay, that’s good.” 

She has Shouta and Hizashi show you pictures of your 3-B classmates and people who you should know. Eri, Kendo, Tetsu, Shinsou, everyone has a name to their face, and the doctor seems satisfied with each response. 

Then, Hizashi’s pulling out his phone and showing you a photo. It has your brows furrowing and eyes glancing over to your parents. 

“Do you know who this is?” Hizashi asks, shaking the device lightly. 

You nod, “Yeah, that’s Bakugou but… why am I kissing him?” 

The photo is very clearly you, taken from a mirror in your dorm. You stand on your toes while Bakugou stands with his arms crossed, your lips pressing against his cheek. 

Hizashi and Shouta share a glance between each other before looking back at you. 

“Do you know what he is to you?” Aizawa asks. 

“An acquaintance?” You feel bare as they stare at you, “Right?” 

“May I speak with one of you outside, please?” The doctor asks, writing something on her clipboard and stepping out the door. Hizashi stays, squeezing your hand in his own. 

He talks about things you’ve missed. How Eri says she can’t wait to visit, but seems to enjoy being babysat by Mirio and Tamaki. How Nezu’s promised to waive any tests or assignments you may have missed, but that doesn’t mean you can slack off. He stays away from the topic you’re itching to talk about- what you're missing. You aren’t stupid. You know their reaction to whatever you don’t remember isn’t good, and you doubt they’ll tell you until they know how you are mentally. 

You jump when the door swings open, followed by Bakugou stumbling in while a nurse and your dad try to keep him out. 

“You’re okay…” he breathes out, heaving a laugh, “they told me you were but I just had to-to make sure…” 

His right arm is bandaged from wrist to elbow and his lip is busted, but he looks fine otherwise. You spare a glance to Hizashi, who’s now standing from his seat. 

“What’re you doing here, Bakugou?” You ask, pulling the blankets closer to yourself. Your mind flashes to the picture your dad showed you previously, and you shake your head. There’s no way… 

“What am I… Bakugou?” He seems more surprised you use his surname than anything, “What’s up with you, (y/n)?” 

You make a face at him using your given name, scrunching your nose but offer no other rebuttal. 

He sputters, looking to his teacher and the doctor, “Why are they acting so weird?” 

You have half a mind to ask why he’s acting so weird, but Shouta… 

“It seems they don’t remember you’re… dating.” 

Dating. You? With Bakugou Katsuki? Dating? 

Bakugou’s eyes cut to you and you flinch under his stare. “No. No, no, no, no, no, come on (y/n), tell me they’re lying-” He’s stepping towards your bed, but Hizashi stands in front of him before he can get too close, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. 

“I-I… I have no idea what you’re… we were dating?” 

He visibly deflates, giving another glance towards your parents and the doctor, before Hizashi’s leading him out the door.  

A week passes, and you learn Bakugou’s been discharged while the doctor requests you stay a couple days longer so they can monitor your ‘amnesia’. Hizashi and Shouta promise they’ll bring Eri by, and you’re pleasantly surprised when Hizashi opens the door with the little girl in his arms. She fights against his hold until she’s being placed down, not stopping for a second to clamber her way up your bed and embrace you in the biggest hug. You laugh. 

“Eri, I’ve missed you!” 

“I’ve missed you more.” She says, face burrowed in your neck. The two of you stayed like this for a moment, Eri content with sitting in your embrace, before she’s pulling away and messing with your tangled hair. 

“I miss you and Bakugou playing with me,” she says after a pause, pulling her hands to herself and looking down. 

You only force a smile and rub her cheek, “I miss playing with you too.” Is all you can come up with. 

There’s no speaking on Bakugou’s behalf, hell, it’s hard to believe he’d even have the patience to sit and play some dorky princess games with Eri and you. But, it seems he managed some amount of tolerance, since Eri’s able to recall fond memories. You wonder if there’s really anything to miss about Bakugou. Everytime you dwell on the thought, or try to remember any semblance of a memory, you end up with nothing but a headache. 

It’s frustrating. 

Eventually, Eri wears herself out and falls asleep on your chest. You don’t mind, used to her using you as her personal pillow. Running your fingers through her hair, you look over to your parents. They speak in hushed tones next to your bed. You look away, instead focusing on the wall directly in front of you. 

“Did I really love him?” You can’t help but ask, voice soft. The two adults pause, glancing over to you in time for you to catch their eyes. “Bakugou,” you clarify, though you’re not sure why, “did I really love him?” 

They hesitate, looking to each other. Hizashi opens his mouth to answer, but Aizawa beats him to the punch. 

“We don’t know that you’re ready to discuss that yet.” His tone is in no way harsh or demeaning, and yet it feels like a slap in the face. This was your life you were asking about- the least they could do was tell you about it. 

“I think I deserve to know,” you can’t help but snap. Eri shifts in her sleep, and you take in a small breath, looking away from your parents, “I just… I wanna understand…” 

You see them share a look from the corner of your eye, before Hizashi gives a soft sigh. They both sit up straighter- well, Hizashi sits up straighter. Shouta leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees, a vacant look coming across his features.  

“You started dating about a year ago,” Hizashi starts, pulling out his phone and scrolling through some apps, “you told us about a month and a half after- you were scared Sho would string Bakugou up by his toes if he found out.” The blonde can’t help but snicker at the thought, sparing a glance to his husband. 

“I would’ve, too,” Shouta adds nonchalantly, clasping his hands together, “if you hadn’t been so adamant about us ‘playing nice’.” 

Hizashi hands you his phone and you see he’s opened a photo album called ‘The Love Birds’. You make a face at the cringey name, but begin scrolling through it nonetheless. It’s filled with pictures of you and Bakugou; holding hands, going on what you can assume are dates, and even some of you kissing (though it’s mostly just small pecks on the cheek). 

“Those are all photos you’ve either sent us or that we’ve taken ourselves. Bakugou wanted them to make a scrapbook or something.”

Your heart honestly hurts at the sight. These are all photos of you, and yet you have no recollection of any of them. You look so happy in each of them, too, gazing at Bakugou with such an adoration that you don’t think you could ever muster right now. You lock the phone and pass it back to Hizashi. 

The doctor releases you the next day, having been convinced fairly easily by Shouta. You’re back at home with them for a full day, before they allow you back at the dorms. While they’d prefer you to just be home, the villain is still loose. They know you’re better off constantly around your peers than sitting at home alone, however, they make it a point to stop by when time allows it. 

Everyone in class B gives you a warm welcome back, and no one asks about your situation. Kendo helps keep you distracted by planning game nights and offering to do face masks when she can. Testu tells you jokes that keep a smile on your face when he’s around, and sometimes joins you and Kendo on your game nights. Monoma helps you catch up on any assignments you may be confused with, seeing as you’re being thrown back into classes after missing about two weeks. Shinsou makes sure you’re never alone, and is a shoulder for you to cry on or a face to complain to. 

Things are relatively normal, you’re slowly getting back into the swing of things, and yet… 

Something still feels off. 

Deep down, you know what it is. Your relationship, well- lack thereof, with Bakugou. You feel like a piece of you is missing, but it’s just… hard to really believe you dated him. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you were in a relationship with the Bakugou Katsuki. 

Staying up at night becomes your new norm. It isn’t too bothersome, Shinsou taking after your father in the fact that he rarely sleeps at night, and is more than happy to keep you company. Some nights, he falls asleep before you, or doesn’t have the time to stop by. On these nights, you try to keep yourself busy. Catch up on homework, getting ahead on assignments, maybe throw in a few exercises if you’re feeling especially motivated, but tonight… 

Tonight just feels different. Your room feels cramped yet too big at the same time, so you do the one thing you can think of in the moment and leave. It may not be the best decision, walking outside in just pajama shorts and a t-shirt, but it seems like the most plausible choice given the time. 

U.A.’s campus is pretty at night, you discover. The air around you is cold, biting at your skin, but it’s not something you’re unused to due to your quirk. It makes you realize that more time passed than you thought. Stars twinkle in the sky and you smile to yourself at the fact that despite everything changing, the world has stayed the same. Walking around aimlessly does good at helping clear your head, regardless of the frigid air surrounding your frame. You jump at the feeling of something being draped around your shoulders, whirling around to face the sudden intruder. 

It’s Bakugou, who holds his hands up in surrender and ensures there’s some semblance of distance between you while he speaks, “Just thought someone should tell you to not be a dumbass and come out with no jacket.” 

Even though what he says has an edge, his tone holds no malice. His voice is soft, as if he’s afraid speaking any louder would scare you away. It’s the first time you’ve interacted with Bakugou since the hospital, and you genuinely wonder for a moment what he’s thinking. 

You pull the jacket closer around you and look away, mumbling a small, “thanks.” 

The two of you begin walking together with no particular destination in mind, mostly content with one another's company. Bakugou asks why you’re awake and you give the simple reply of not being able to sleep. He mutters out a short same and soon, you find yourselves sitting on a hill that has the perfect view overlooking the city. It’s then you notice Bakugou isn’t wearing a jacket himself, clad in only a dark tank top and sweatpants. You wonder if he realized he was being hypocritical in giving you his own. 

“Do you want this back?” You find yourself asking, gesturing to the jacket, “I remember you… don’t really like the cold.” 

“Nah, I don’t need it.” He waves you off with a shake of his head. Truthfully, he’s freezing his ass off, but he knows you despise the cold more than anything. He knows it’s all you feel when you use your quirk, and made a promise to himself to do whatever he can to help you avoid feeling this way. 

The silence that surrounds you is nothing unwelcome, but you’re itching to ask the question everyone has been avoiding. You bite the bullet. 

“What was our relationship like?” 

He isn’t as surprised as he should be by the question, but it still makes him falter. It takes him a moment to regain his thoughts, and you wonder if maybe you’ve crossed some unknown boundary-

“It was nice,” he starts, looking up at the stars. You pull your legs to your chest and rest your cheek on your knees, keeping your eyes on him to let him know that you’re listening. 

“I asked you out on a whim,” he continues, “Denki said if I didn’t, he’d ask you out for himself, and I couldn’t be one-upped by that idiot-  even then, it wasn’t really me asking you out. It was moreso a challenge.” 

You laugh a little at the thought, because that’s such a Bakugou thing to do. He smiles at the sound. He looks so soft, so tired, so worn out from what life has thrown his way as he’s bathed in the light of the moon, not pausing as his gaze remains on the sky. 

“I told you were gonna wrestle- no quirks, and if I won, I’d get to take you on a date.” 

“What’d I ask for if I won?” You ask, only for him to shake his head and scrunch his nose. 

“In the moment you didn’t say and I didn’t care to ask. I wasn’t thinking far enough for what you could’ve wanted. I was hellbent on winning, anyways. But,” he goes on, “we fought. I had the upper hand, you were pinned down while Kiri counted the seconds and you…” 

He pauses, closing his eyes as if the memory was still fresh in his mind. Maybe it was. 

“... you leaned up and kissed me. It threw me off, and you used that to flip us over. You ended up winning.” 

Bakugou opens his eyes and looks over at you for the first time since beginning the story. You can make out the pink dusting his cheeks under the moonlight, and you never thought you’d think of Bakugou as something akin to angelic, but here you are. Fantasizing about a memory you don’t even remember. 

You wonder if his lips are as soft as they look now. 

“What happened next?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. You must sound like a child, asking a parent to finish a bedtime story, but you don’t care. 

“You laughed at me,” he says, shaking his head with a small laugh of his own, “you rubbed it in my face that I lost, and I threw it in your face that you cheated.” 

You can’t help but grin, “But I won.” 

“Yeah,” he looks down for a moment, forming a soft smile of his own, before looking back at you, “yeah, you won.” 

“And after that?” You can’t help but press on, wanting to know more about the story that was more than just a story.

“You finally told me what you wanted for winning.” 

“Which was?” 

You don’t realize you’re slowly leaning towards each other, or that his breath is lightly fanning against your cheek until it’s happening- you can pick out every freckle he has and see how his eyes aren’t just red, but the color of a ruby. 

“A kiss.” 

He feels your own breath hitch against his lips and he…

Fuck...

He’s about to close what little distance is left when someone calling your name draws you out of it. You pull back like you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to, and hell, you might be with how late it is and how deep in the campus you are. With a glance behind you, you realize it’s only Shinsou. He remains a distance away, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Saw your dorm door was open and couldn’t find you in the building. Got worried.” 

You and Bakugou remain on the ground a moment longer. Then, Bakugou’s standing and offering a hand to help you up. 

“You should go to bed,” he says low enough for only you to hear, “it’s late.” 

You give a small nod, “You should too…” 

There’s a pause, as if he has more to say, but decides against it, then he’s walking off in the direction of the dorms without another word. 

“Your jacket-” you begin to take the item off, but he shakes his head without a second thought, not bothering to stop and retrieve his clothing. He knocks shoulders with Shinsou as he passes. 

“Keep it, it was one of your favorites.” He doesn’t turn around as he speaks, gives a wave of dismissal. 

You hug the jacket closer to yourself in return.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero acadamia #my hero acadamia x reader #dad!aizawa #dadzawa #dadzashi #dad!hizashi #angst

[howlermemes]

                                       𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭                                                l  y  r  i  c    s  t  a  r  t  e  r  s

✽  long post ahead bc i have no self control ! ✽  change pronouns / punctuation as needed . ✽  some lyrics are explicit. ✽  some themes are slightly darker. ✽  alteratively, send    ♫ 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚔𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎    to have a lyric automatically generated & said to your muse instead .

[ track 01 ]   the 1 ❛ I'm doing good! I'm on some new shit. ❜ ❛ I thought I saw you at the bus stop. ❜ ❛ I hit the ground running each night. ❜ ❛ You know, the greatest films of all time were never made. ❜ ❛ If you wanted me, you really should have showed. ❜ ❛ If you never bleed, you're never gonna grow. ❜ ❛ It's alright now. ❜ ❛ We were something, don't you think so? ❜ ❛ If my wishes came true, it would have been you. ❜ ❛ In my defense — I have none for never leaving well enough alone. ❜ ❛ It would have been fun if you would have been the one. ❜ ❛ I had this dream you're doing cool shit, having adventures on your own. ❜ ❛ We never painted by the numbers, baby. ❜ ❛ We were making it count. ❜ ❛ You know the greatest loves of all time are over now. ❜ ❛ I guess you never know. ❜ ❛ It's another day of waking up alone. ❜ ❛ If one thing had been different, would everything be different today? ❜ ❛ It would have been sweet if it could've been me. ❜ ❛ In my defense, I have none for digging up the grave another time. ❜

[ track 02 ]   cardigan ❛ When you are young, they assume you know nothing. ❜ ❛ Baby, kiss it better. ❜ ❛ I was your favorite. ❜ ❛ A friend to all is a friend to none. ❜ ❛ Chase two girls, lose the one. ❜ ❛ To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed. ❜ ❛ You drew stars around my scars and now I'm bleeding. ❜ ❛ I knew you tried to change the ending. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs. ❜ ❛ I knew everything when I was young. ❜ ❛ I knew I'd curse you for the longest time. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standing in my front porch light. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd come back to me. ❜

[ track 03 ]   the last great american dynasty ❛ How did a middle-class divorcee do it? ❜ ❛ The wedding was a charming, if a little gauche. ❜ ❛ There's only so far new money goes. ❜ ❛ Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud. ❜ ❛ It must have been her fault his heart gave out. ❜ ❛ There goes the last great American dynasty. ❜ ❛ Who knows, if she never showed up, what could have been. ❜ ❛ There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen. ❜ ❛ They say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks, staring out the sea. ❜ ❛ In a feud with her neighbor, she stole his dog and dyed it key lime green. ❜ ❛ Fifty years is a long time. ❜ ❛ Who knows, if I never showed up, what could've been. ❜ ❛ I had a marvelous time ruining everything. ❜ ❛ I had a marvelous time. ❜

[ track 04 ]   exile ❛ I can see you standing, honey, with his arms around your body. ❜ ❛ I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending. ❜ ❛ You're not my homeland anymore. ❜ ❛ What am I defending now? ❜ ❛ You were my town. Now I'm in exile, seeing you out. ❜ ❛ I can see you staring, honey, like he's just your understudy, like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me. ❜ ❛ You'd get your knuckles bloody for me. ❜ ❛ Those eyes add insult to injury. ❜ ❛ I'm not your problem anymore. ❜ ❛ Who am I offending now? ❜ ❛ You were my crown. Now I'm in exile, seeing you out. ❜ ❛ I'm leaving out the side door. ❜ ❛ There is no amount of crying I can do for you. ❜ ❛ All this time, we always walked a very thin line. ❜ ❛ You didn't even hear me out. ❜ ❛ You never gave a warning sign. ❜ ❛ I gave so many signs. ❜ ❛ All this time, I never learned to read your mind. ❜ ❛ I couldn't turn things around. ❜ ❛ You never turned things around. ❜ ❛ You didn't even see the signs. ❜

[ track 05 ]   my tears ricochet ❛ If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too. ❜ ❛ Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe — all the hell you gave me? ❜ ❛ I loved you, I swear I loved you, until my dying day. ❜ ❛ I didn't have it in myself to go with grace. ❜ ❛ You're the hero flying around, saving face. ❜ ❛ If I'm dead to you, why were you at the wake? ❜ ❛ Look at how my tears ricochet. ❜ ❛ We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. ❜ ❛ You know I didn't want to have to haunt you. ❜ ❛ What a ghostly scene. ❜ ❛ You used to tell me I was brave. ❜ ❛ I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere I want, just not home. ❜ ❛ You can aim for my heart — go for blood. ❜ ❛ You would still miss me in your bones. ❜ ❛ I still talk to you when I'm screaming at the sky. ❜ ❛ You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same. ❜ ❛ You turned into your worst fears. ❜ ❛ You're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years. ❜

[ track 06 ]   mirrorball ❛ I'll show you every version of yourself tonight. ❜ ❛ When I break, it's a million pieces. ❜ ❛ Hush. ❜ ❛ You'll find me on my tallest tip-toes, spinning in my highest heels, love — shining just for you. ❜ ❛ I know they said the end is near. ❜ ❛ I can change everything about me to fit in. ❜ ❛ You're not like the regulars. ❜ ❛ I'm still on that tightrope. ❜ ❛ I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me. ❜ ❛ I'm still a believer, but I don't know why. ❜ ❛ I've never been a natural. ❜ ❛ All I do is try, try, try. ❜ ❛ I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me. ❜

[ track 07 ]   seven ❛ Please picture me in the trees. ❜ ❛ I hit my peak at seven, feet in the swing over the creek. ❜ ❛ I was too scared to jump in, but I was high in the sky. ❜ ❛ Are there still beautiful things? ❜ ❛ Cross your heart. ❜ ❛ Though I can't recall your face, I still got love for you. ❜ ❛ Love you to the moon and to Saturn. ❜ ❛ The love lasts so long. ❜ ❛ I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. ❜ ❛ Your dad is always mad. ❜ ❛ I think you should come live with me. ❜ ❛ We can be pirates! ❜ ❛ You won't have to cry or hide in the closet. ❜ ❛ Our love will be passed on. ❜ ❛ I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted. ❜ ❛ Pack your dolls and a sweater. ❜

[ track 08 ]   august ❛ Salt air and the rust on your door — I never needed anything more. ❜ ❛ I can see us lost in the memory. ❜ ❛ August slipped away into a moment in time, because it was never mine. ❜ ❛ I was see us twisted in bedsheets. ❜ ❛ August sipped away like a bottle of wine, because you were never mine. ❜ ❛ Will you call me when you're back at school? ❜ ❛ I remember thinking I had you. ❜ ❛ It was never mine. ❜ ❛ You were never mine. ❜ ❛ For me, it was enough to live for the hope of it all. ❜ ❛ I canceled plans just in case you'd call. ❜ ❛ Meet me behind the mall. ❜ ❛ So much for summer love and saying "us". ❜ ❛ You weren't mine to lose. ❜ ❛ Do you remember? ❜ ❛ Remember when I pulled up and said "Get in the car." ❛ I was living for the hope of it all. ❜

[ track 09 ]   this is me trying ❛ I've been having a hard time adjusting. ❜ ❛ I didn't know if you'd care if I came back. ❜ ❛ I have a lot of regrets about that. ❜ ❛ Maybe I don't quite know what to say. ❜ ❛ I'm here in your doorway. ❜ ❛ I just wanted you to know this is me trying. ❜ ❛ I got wasted like all my potential. ❜ ❛ My words shoot to kill when I'm mad. I have a lot of regrets about that. ❜ ❛ I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. ❜ ❛ I ended up here, pouring my heart out to a stranger. ❜ ❛ I didn't pour the whiskey. ❜ ❛ At least I'm trying. ❜ ❛ It's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound. ❜ ❛ It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. ❜ ❛ You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town. ❜

[ track 10 ]   illicit affairs ❛ Make sure nobody sees you leave. ❜ ❛ Tell your friends you're out for a run. ❜ ❛ You'll be flushed when you return. ❜ ❛ Take the road less traveled by. ❜ ❛ Tell yourself you can always stop. ❜ ❛ What started in beautiful rooms, ends with meeting in parking lots. ❜ ❛ That's the thing about illicit affairs — and clandestine meetings and longing stares. ❜ ❛ It's born from just one single glance, but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times. ❜ ❛ You leave no trace behind. ❜ ❛ Take the words for what they are — a dwindling mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times. ❜ ❛ They show their truth one single time, but they lie and they lie and they lie. A million little times. ❜ ❛ Don't call me "kid". ❜ ❛ Don't call me "baby". ❜ ❛ Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. ❜ ❛ You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else. ❜ ❛ Look at this idiotic fool that you made me. ❜ ❛ You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else. ❜ ❛ You know damn well, for you, I would ruin myself a million little times. ❜

[ track 11 ]   invisible string ❛ I used to think I would meet somebody there. ❜ ❛ Teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop. ❜ ❛ Time, curious time. ❜ ❛ Were there clues I didn't see? ❜ ❛ Isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? ❜ ❛ You ate at my favorite spot for dinner. ❜ ❛ She said I looked like an American singer. ❜ ❛ Time, mystical time — cutting me open, then healing me fine. ❜ ❛ Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire. ❜ ❛ One single thread of gold tied me to you. ❜ ❛ Gold was the color of the leaves when you around Centennial Park. ❜ ❛ Hell was the journey, but it brought me to heaven. ❜ ❛ Time, wondrous time, gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies. ❜ ❛ It's cool, baby, with me. ❜

[ track 12 ]   mad woman ❛ What did you think I'd say to that? ❜ ❛ Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? ❜ ❛ They strike to kill, and you know I will. ❜ ❛ What do you sing on your drive home? ❜ ❛ Do you see my face in the neighbors lawn? ❜ ❛ Fuck you forever. ❜ ❛ Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy. ❜ ❛ When you say I seem angry, I get more angry. ❜ ❛ There's nothing like a mad woman. ❜ ❛ What a shame she went mad. ❜ ❛ No one likes a mad woman. You made her like that. ❜ ❛ You'll poke that bear 'till her claws come out and you find something to wrap your noose around. ❜ ❛ I breathe flames each time I talk. ❜ ❛ They say "Move On," but you know I won't. ❜ ❛ Women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you. ❜ ❛ It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together. ❜ ❛ I'm taking my time. ❜ ❛ You took everything from me. ❜ ❛ She should be mad, should be scathing like me. ❜

[ track 13 ]   epiphany ❛ I think he's bleeding out. ❜ ❛ Some things you just can't speak about. ❜ ❛ With you, I serve. With you, I fall down. ❜ ❛ I think she's crashing out. ❜ ❛ Only twenty minutes to sleep. ❛ You dream of some epiphany — just one single glimpse of relief. ❜

[ track 14 ]   betty ❛ I won't make assumptions. ❜ ❛ I think it's because of me. ❜ ❛ One time, I was riding on my skateboard when I passed your house. ❜ ❛ It's like I couldn't breathe. ❜ ❛ You heard the rumors. ❜ ❛ You can't believe a word she says most times. But this time, it was true. ❜ ❛ The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you. ❜ ❛ If I just showed up at your party, would you have me? ❜ ❛ Would you want me? ❜ ❛ Would you tell me to go fuck myself? ❜ ❛ In the garden, would you trust me if I told you it was a just a summer thing? ❜ ❛ I'm only seventeen. I don't know anything. ❜ ❛ I don't know anything, but I know I miss you. ❜ ❛ I know where it all went wrong. ❜ ❛ I was nowhere to be found. ❜ ❛ I hate crowds. You know that. ❜ ❛ I saw you dance with him. ❜ ❛ I was walking home on broken cobblestones, just thinking of you. ❛ She pulled up like a figment of my worst intentions. ❜ ❛ Get in. Let's drive. ❜ ❛ I dreamt of you all summer long. ❜ ❛ I planned it out for weeks now. ❜ ❛ It's finally sinking in. ❜ ❛ Right now is the last time. ❜ ❛ I can dream about what happens when you can see my face again. ❜ ❛ The only thing I wanna do is make it up to you. ❜ ❛ Will you have me? ❜ ❛ Will you love me? ❜ ❛ Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? ❜ ❛ If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? ❜ ❛ I don't know anything. ❜

[ track 15 ]   peace ❛ Our coming-of-age has come and gone. ❜ ❛ I never had the courage of my convictions, as long as danger is near. ❜ ❛ It's just around the corner, darlin. ❜ ❛ I could never give you peace. ❜ ❛ I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm. ❜ ❛ All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret. ❜ ❛ The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me. ❜ ❛ Would it be enough if I could never give you peace? ❜ ❛ Your integrity makes me seem small. ❜ ❛ I talk shit with my friends. It's like I'm wasting your honor. ❜ ❛ Is it enough? ❜ ❛ I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best. ❜ ❛ The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me. ❜

[ track 16 ]   hoax ❛ This has broken me down. ❜ ❛ This has frozen my ground. ❜ ❛ Give me a reason. ❜ ❛ Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in. ❜ ❛ Don't want no other shade of blue, but you. ❜ ❛ No other sadness in the world would do. ❜ ❛ I am ash from your fire. ❜ ❛ You know I left a part of me back in New York. ❜ ❛ You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for? ❜ ❛ You knew it still hurts underneath my scars. ❜ ❛ You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? ❜ ❛ It still hurts underneath my scars. ❜ ❛ What you did was just as dark. ❜ ❛ Darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart. ❜

#rp starters #sentence starters #rp memes #rp meme #lyric starters

[aticklishtem]

Weakness of Doom

((oh boy here I go bringing my bullshit into a new decade again~ this is dedicated to @ticklishjevil bc she is 100% to blame for my descent into ZADR hell and generally inspiring/encouraging the creation of this...thing!! I hope you’re proud of yourself darling 💖

ALSO I’m very sorry if the spacing/formatting is borked tumblr mobile is terrible but I am doing my best to fix as we speak ;w; ))

***

“Give it up, Zim! You’ll never get away with this!”

Dib had lost count of how many times he’d said that by now. Eight years, countless crazy schemes, a couple near total obliterations of the galaxy as they knew it and an almost equal tally of humiliating defeats and triumphant (if temporary) victories for both sides - somehow, it always seemed to come back to the two of them. Dib, Zim, the doomsday device of the day and this seemingly endless chase that remained as frustrating yet exhilarating as it was the day the green kid first rocked up to class. Would it ever end? That almost didn’t seem to matter at this point - this was the life Dib had chosen. As long as Zim was around, he had a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning, a duty to the rest of humankind to keep protecting his planet from impending extraterrestrial invasion...even if most of them remained too dumb to appreciate his efforts.

“You’re too late, Dib-stink!” cried the bug-eyed bane of his existence, waving around some kind of remote with a red button. “Just one press of this button, and every single whiffy signal -“

“...do you mean wi-fi?”

“Zim knows what Zim means!” he barked, an antenna twitching with irritation. “As I was saying, every signal will be scrambled, and without their mind-numbing entertainment, your fellow earthworms will inevitably turn on each other! Leaving the planet defenceless for when I, Zim...figure out how to do whatever it is I need to do to destroy you all!”

“Noooo! That’s…” Dib paused mid-dramatic wail. “Actually a pretty solid plan? I mean, I can see your logic. It’s definitely an improvement on some of your others, like that one with the rubber chickens -“

“Silence!” Zim pointed an accusing claw at him, though Dib could’ve sworn he preened a little at the almost-compliment, puffing up his chest and planting his free hand on his hip. “Of course it is foolproof! And if you imagine for a second that the amazing Zim could ever become so distracted by his own ingeniousness that he could be lured into monologuing until a hypothetical opportunity might arise for someone to take - hey gimme that back!”

Fortunately, some things had changed in all those years; puberty had been at least kind enough to Dib so he could now dangle his superior height - literally and metaphorically - over Zim’s head. “Sorry, what’d you say?” he taunted, holding his prize high out of his enemy’s reach after snatching it from his claws. “I couldn’t hear because of how much taller I am!”

His moment of glory was cut short, however, as Zim launched himself at him with a hiss like a feral cat, sending them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and antennae. They were still surprisingly evenly matched; Zim was a lot stronger than his size would suggest, but Dib now had the advantage of longer arms and legs to attempt to hold him off as they wrestled for the device. He might even have been winning - right up until Zim grabbed his side, claws digging into the sensitive spot just below his ribs.

Dib yelped, reflexively slamming his arm down to protect himself; before either could do anything, the remote flew out of his hand and across the room until it disappeared under one of Zim’s experiment tanks. Instead of running after it, Zim took advantage of the distraction to seize Dib’s wrist, pinning him to the floor.

“Ha!” Zim loomed over him, now straddling Dib’s waist so his maniacal grin filled his whole vision. “You flesh-bags really are pitiful, cowering in pain from the slightest touch!”

“That’s not what that - was…” Dib froze, heat rising to his cheeks as his nemesis bore down on him, now painfully aware of his compromising position. Zim couldn’t - did he even know what tickling was? Because this would be a really bad time for him to find out.

“...Eh?” Zim narrowed his eyes, curiosity flickering across his face alongside the usual suspicion and irritation. “What are you smiling about? Why is your grotesquely ginormous head so red?!”

“My head’s not bihihig!” Dib bit down on his lip, but he couldn’t stop a few embarrassing giggles from slipping out when Zim jabbed at his ribs again. He struggled to bat his hand away, but with only one arm free and Zim basically sitting on top of him, he wasn’t having much success. “Quihihit ihit!”

A shiver ran down his spine as he could practically see his doom unfold along with Zim’s smile, sadistic delight sparkling in his eyes, and oh god no Dib thought he was prepared for anything but please not this, anything but this, he’ll never live it down…

“Well, well - you really thought you could conceal such a glaring weakness from me?” he demanded, mercilessly prodding and pinching his way up Dib’s side. “I’d...sort of imagined more writhing in excruciating agony, but this is rather amusing too, watching you squirm like the wretched worm you are!”

“Thihis isn’t fahahahair!” Dib spluttered between peals of laughter; he hadn’t been tickled since he was a little kid, but this was so much worse because it was Zim and he hated giving him the satisfaction but was equally powerless to stop his body from reacting as those probing claws dug right into his horribly exposed armpit. “Zihihihim!”

“Yes, yes, I am Zim!” his foe cackled, releasing Dib’s wrist to attack with both hands, one even scuttling under his shirt - which was so far beyond fair - and scratching at the tender skin almost hard enough to hurt, but his gloves dulled the sensation so it just tickled even more. “If I had known you were this easily incapacitated, I could’ve built a device to take care of you long ago! Now, laugh, pathetic Dib-thing - admit your annihilation, or perish in helpless hysteria at the merciless claws of Zim!”

“Nehehehever - !” Dib had not foiled so many of Zim’s plans to let him win this one by tickling him, of all the cruel and unusual methods. There was only one way to fight back, and he had no idea if it’d even work on an alien, but what else did he have to lose, more of his dignity? Arms flailing as he tried desperately to suck in his stomach before those treacherous claws could get to his bellybutton, he eventually managed to grab a handful of Zim’s side and squeeze it repeatedly.

Zim let out a squawk like a bird having its feathers pulled out, letting go of Dib as he scrabbled to slap his hands away. “D-do not touch Zim with your fihilthy meat-sticks!”

Huh - that sounded like a game-changer, and now it was Dib’s turn to grin like a mad scientist as he kneaded Zim’s sides like his life depended on it - which it might - until he had an armful of squirming Irken trapped in an almost-hug, one arm around Zim’s waist with his PAK pressing against Dib’s chest.

“What’s the matter, does it tickle?” he asked, smirking from ear to ear as he savoured the sweetness of revenge - and possibly the most important discovery of his career as a paranormal investigator. “Is the mighty Invader Zim ticklish?”

“Lies! Cease! Ihihi’m gonna destrohohoy yooooou…!”

It wasn’t like he’d never heard Zim laugh before - only like every day since they were at skool - but this was different; less controlled and mocking, more free and almost joyful, even if it was a joy forced upon him as he writhed, kicked and cackled under Dib’s skittering fingers, exploring the surprisingly soft and smooth skin under his shirt. It wasn’t exactly an autopsy, but the thought that he might be the first to hear - the first to make Zim almost squeal when he wiggled his fingers under his arms - that was more deeply, weirdly, sadistically satisfying than anything he’d imagined. “Wow, I think you’re worse than I am! So are all Irkens this ticklish, or is it just you?”

“Zihim is telling you nohothihihihing!” Zim’s laughter seemed to jump an octave when Dib felt around his back; the skin around his PAK was slightly raised where it was embedded, which was interesting, mainly for the way he bucked and squirmed frantically as Dib traced it with his fingers. “GIR! Where are you?! Do something to make this stohohop!”

“Yes, master!”

Dib looked up just in time to see Zim’s robot assistant propelling towards him at alarming speed, his eyes blazing red. Before he could move to shield himself, however, GIR came to an abrupt stop, eyes flickering back to cyan and his metallic mouth stretching into its familiar hyperactive smile. “Ooooh! Tickle fight! I wanna plaaaay!”

“Now, GIR! Fire the - wait, no, what are you doing?! Put that back!” Both Zim’s and Dib’s eyes widened - in horror and intrigue respectively - as GIR plonked himself down on one of Zim’s legs, picked up the other and pulled his boot off. Dib had never actually seen his feet before, he realised; he had three toes, clawed like his fingers but a little shorter. Judging by how he scrunched them up when GIR prodded them, they were also pretty sensitive.

“This li’l piggy went to Foodcourtia,” GIR chirped, wiggling a toe; Zim made a strangled noise of protest and attempted to pull away, but Dib was still holding onto him. “This li’l piggy went home - aw, we outta piggies! And thiiis li’l piggy…”

“GIR - nooo!” Zim begged, and Dib could actually feel him tremble in his arms as his toes curled in anticipation of what was to come. “Don’t do this! You’re supposed to attack the intruder, not -“

“...went weeweeweeweeeeeeeee…!” GIR hugged Zim’s foot and scribbled furiously all over it, his tiny metal hands a blur as his master shrieked with laughter, helpless to escape his ticklish doom.

“How’s it feel, Zim, betrayed by your own minion?” Dib snickered along with him as it occurred to him he should probably be recording or taking photos of possibly the greatest moment of his life to date, but holding Zim captive and laughing helplessly was way too satisfying, tickling under his arms while GIR happily went to town on his foot. “Maybe I’ll just keep you like this - you’re not much of a threat to the Earth when you’re just a cute little giggly alien puddle…”

“Wh-whahahahahaaaaa?!”

The sheer incredulous outrage in Zim’s voice tore through the air, and Dib couldn’t help but wince, recoiling as the ear-splitting screech assaulted his eardrums. As his grip loosened, Zim wriggled free and kicked GIR off of him, scrambling back to his feet, and the chaos was replaced by an unusual and equally uncomfortable silence. (Apart from GIR eating popcorn out of his head as he watched them, and that was the most normal thing about this situation.)

“I - uh...“

“He thinks you cuuuute!” GIR giggled, grabbing Zim’s cheeks and squishing them together comically.

“No I don’t!” Dib felt his face flush under the spotlight of both GIR’s carefree smile and Zim’s laser-beam glare, the protest coming out just a little too quickly. “I was teasing you - it’s just a thing people say when they…”

He trailed off, because man, things had gotten weird, even by their standards. But this was still Zim, and he was still a jerk and evil and the total opposite of cute, even a little breathless with his clothes all rumpled and one foot still bare, antennae lowered and quivering and what looked suspiciously like an olive-coloured blush staining his cheeks. That warm feeling was just Dib enjoying the sight of his enemy humiliated in defeat, like anyone would. Right? That made sense.

“Give me my boot, GIR.”

“Go long!”

Zim caught the offending item without looking, but instead of putting it back on he hurled it at Dib, who dodged just before it smacked him in the face, bouncing off his shoulder instead.

“Ow - hey, that’s sharp!”

“Good! Suffer! That’s what you get for trying to taint the mighty name of Zim with your disgusting lies like…” He screwed up his face as if he could barely bring himself to spit out the word, making dramatic finger-quotes, “cute!”

“Okay, geez! It’s not like I meant it…” Dib rubbed his shoulder, shifting awkwardly - he wished they’d stop repeating the word like that. But even this momentary weirdness couldn’t change the fact that he’d just uncovered a significant weakness in his nemesis, even if he inconveniently shared it. He’d be an idiot not to exploit this for all it was worth, a smug grin tugging at his lips again as he picked up Zim’s boot. “But thanks for this. I bet I can get all kinds of useful evidence from a genuine article of alien clothing…”

“You…!” Zim’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as he let out an indignant splutter - only to break into a dangerously familiar smile before activating his PAK legs, towering over Dib with a renewed gleam of vengeance in his eye. “Enjoy your last few seconds of freedom, Dib-worm - we shall soon settle who is cute!”

“I’d like to see you - wait, what?!”

Dib didn’t have time to figure out what Zim meant by that as he darted for an escape route, still clutching Zim’s boot - but when he was quickly seized and hoisted into the air by a pair of metal spider legs, he was pretty sure things were only about to get a whole lot weirder.

But this was the life he’d chosen - and would he really want it any other way?

#tickling #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #bring on that New Fandom Anxiety!! #or just anxiety in general bc it's Been A While #quietly crawls into toilet #i'm too chicken to put this in fandom tags i'll add them later #tem writes #my fic #invader zim #Zim #dib #zadr #gir #lee!zim #lee!dib #ler!dib #ler!zim #ler!gir #v2 #bc i somehow managed to delete the whole fuckin thing??? while trying to edit tags #it's FINE

[interrogatormentors]

Event Nine: Promise

[CW: death, drowning]

The weeks following the start of the emotional conditioning bore down on Sollux with the force of a dead whale. He could feel the walls pressing down on him, suffocating and claustrophobic, and half the days he found himself waking from helming daymares. 

The others fared no better. 

Ophlia didn’t seem to sleep. Zesaim sat on her bunk for hours at a time, wall-eyed, while Rosmer cried in other troll’s voices into the day. Sollux hadn’t known the olive could mimic voices, and wished that had remained a secret. Mercuo often woke gasping, holding onto his gills before tucking himself next to a stonefaced Trisia.

Ualona managed to hold himself together somehow, and often came to Sollux for help. After their now nightly emotional conditioning they huddled together for warmth, heads leaned in over their tablets. This morning however, Ualona came back to the bunks quiet. He tapped on his tablet for near to an hour before several identical text notifications dinged from all their tablets.

[actualizedClairvoytant [AC] has opened up the memo keepyourmout-| |-ss-| |-ut] twinArmaggedons [TA] has entered the chat! glorifiedCorpsification [GC] has entered the chat! chronicAcademician [CA] has entered the chat! castigatedTrepidation [CT] has entered the chat! cavortingGratuity [CG] has entered the chat! accentuatedAntimony [AA] has entered the chat! TA: the fuck UA ii can barely uncurl my fiinger2 2tiill wtf ii2 up?? AA: jus7 spi7 i7 ou7 bud i wan7 7o ca7ch some zs while i can AA: 7heyre 7hrowing new shi7 a7 us soon i can feel i7 AC: cant AC: the mics remember?

Sollux glanced up and off to the side, where the speaker produced its steady whine as usual. It would be stupid to think the connection didn’t go both ways.

TA: okay 2hoot TA: what have you got?? AC: i was digging in t-| |-e interrogatormentor arc-| |-ives and i found all our files. CG: and How does THat even Help us? CG: i don’T need To know wHaT They Think of me. CA: treasOOn.

A whimper came from Rosmer’s bunk, and Sollux looked down to see Ophlia staring the olive down with bloodshot eyes and bared teeth.

AC: okay treason aside youll wanna -| |-ear t-| |-is. AC: especially you rosmer.

[actualizedClairvoyant [AC] has sent the file flunkies.txt]

Sollux scanned the document, brows furrowed. Even in the confidential archives someone had censored the documents, black lines smeared across various points of data. Someone else, Ualona no doubt, had highlighted specific sections of each.

Mercuo Trevan: Interrogated and broke a rebellion recruiting ring in Imperial Navy recruits. Purposefully joined, goals for the BC Reichenbach. 

Zesaim Exeria: Random draw. Induce failure in time for unit on psionic alterations to the brain due to psionic projection ability.

Sollux Captor: Former helmsman, isolated rebels in brig to promote surrender; reportedly accessed the Imperial Network and ran a long-standing data mining protocol for several sweeps prior to capture and indoctrination. Brought to attention by Head Admin Eridan Ampora and ██████ ██████ [████████].

Trisia Avarae: Identified several problem spots in local drone patrol routes and took down a single unit. Promote immediately upon graduation.

Ophlia Davrot: Drowned a head subjuggulator in sacrificial blood pools following an identical attempt on her life due to poor humor. Tested on basic interrogatormentor techniques and passed with an 89%.

Rosmer Leywet: Random draw. Induce failure at convenience of instructor. Recommended for immediate cremation; has no particular talent nor purpose. Proposed: preserve vocal chords for study? Request denied.

Ualona Reshan: Hacked into the imperial network and managed to stay online for five minutes. Sent a notification to the drones through this system for two removals of traitors in apartment directly above residence in hivestem.

The chat stayed idle for a few minutes, before Sollux broke the silence with the gentle clacking of his claws against the tablet screen.

TA: 2o what doe2 thii2 mean?? TA: are the2e  TA: accurate?? AC: t-| |-ey are for me GC: *YeS.* CG: seconded. AA: you mean 7hirded!

Mercuo grabbed his pillow, reaching out and smacking at Trisia’s ankles. She managed a shaky laugh. “Fourthed!” she said, before chugging from her water bottle. Rosmer only pulled his knees closer to his chest.

CT: they told me i won a lot~tery, CT: why would they tell me oth~er~wise, AC: t-| |-ey want people to fail TA: oh 2hiit TA: that’2 where they’re gettiing the te2t 2ubject2 for all theiir traiiniing viideo2. TA: how el2e would they have 2o many liive feed2 whiithout a hiigh piing rate??

Zesaim put a hand to her mouth, looking over to Rosmer who buried his face in his hands. He started crying, in a voice Sollux didn’t recognize this time. Ophlia broke her weeks long silence in a voice like rusted nails scraping up against each other.

“You know what we must do.”

Sollux woke in a web of wires, head pounding to the beat of a familiar, klaxon alarm. He jerked in the helming harness, throwing his head back as he tried initiating a defense protocol. Nothing came to him, the only response a blinding pain from his temples that whited out his vision.

“Status report,” said a voice, somewhere off to his left.

“Helmsman A1A100 reporting system disconnect. Attempted sabotage detected. Administrator password required to proceed.” Sollux swallowed, trying to moisten his dry lips. Hang on. What happened to the humidity?

He opened his eyes, registering Rapard standing at attention just before another wave of pain jolted up his spine. Sollux almost yelled before he caught himself, sucking in a breath instead and separating himself from the sensation as he’d been taught.

“Nice work, Captor,” Rapard said, moving forward. “That’s the fastest recovery I’ve seen yet. Welcome to your next stage of emotional conditioning.”

Sollux gritted his teeth, brows furrowing before he forced them smooth. “Yes sir,” he said, forcing the words out even as instinctive terror roiled in his gut. He didn’t want to helm again. He couldn’t helm again, and this facsimile of flying left him mentally scattered. He shoved away the thought that this exercise was in response to Ualona’s discovery the night before. He’d written the code necessary for them to have private chat rooms himself.

Rapard began his usual patrol around the room then, throwing random trivia at Sollux in time with electric pulses that surged through nodes attached to his sealed ports. Sollux held firm, his face a mask of blank indifference as he forced himself to disassociate from the pain. The questions remained easy enough, all tidbits from the lessons on technique. They were so innocuous, in fact, that at first Sollux thought he imagined Rapard’s next line of inquiry as a claw traced on his chin.

“How long have you known the rebel insurgent known as Karkat Vantas, hex code unknown?”

“What?” Sollux blinked, shaking his head as he tried to return to reality. 

He yelled as Rapard pressed a button on the remote in his hand, the electric charge at least double what he’d experienced so far.

“Pay attention, Captor,” Rapard said. He leaned in close, nose an inch from Sollux’s own. “Separating yourself completely will only lead to you missing important data.” He pressed the button again, face impassive as Sollux jerked in the wires. “Now, answer. How long have you known Karkat Vantas, rebel insurgent? Where is he?”

Sollux swallowed hard. The name rattled around his pan, sending guilt and anxiety through him in equal measure. No. How did they know? He’d tried to lock away that information, bury it deep inside of himself and throw away the key during his time as a helmsman. How did they know about Karkat? Did they know about Feferi, or Kanaya? He’d seen Eridan’s named on his file the other night, had he turned traitor?

Rapard pressed the button again, and Sollux screamed as his muscles involuntarily tensed. The smell of burnt flesh hit his nostrils, and his vision faded in and out of focus. “I don’t- Shit!” Another electric charge, and Sollux’s fists clenched on nothing. He tried exercising his learned behaviors from lessons, stepping outside of the pain and attempting to retreat into his own thoughts. Karkat’s face met him there as he’d last seen him, hunched in front of his webcam and begging Sollux to run as the noise of drones echoed around Sollux’s hive.

Rapard tapped him on the nose, deliberate and mocking. “I won’t ask you again, recruit.”

“Since I was five,” Sollux said, flinching as Rapard’s finger twitched on the remote in his hand. “I don’t know where he is now.” He yelled, back arching as another charge surged through him. The klaxon alarm grew louder, reverberating in time with the pounding in his skull. “I don’t! Fuck! Alternia! Eastern quadrant, coordinates 56 by 900, bunker!” The shocks did not dissipate as he cried out, only increasing in power and frequency.

As Sollux hovered on the edge of consciousness Rapard grabbed his jaw, claws digging into the skin enough to draw tiny pinpricks of yellow blood. “Good, nice work,” he said. Sollux caught a glimpse of the seadweller’s teeth as he grinned, red light glinting off the jagged edges. “I want to make you a promise, Captor. Are you listening?”

“Yes.” Sollux gulped for air as the shocks abated for a few moments, taking the respite to separate himself from the pain and emotion in time for the pain to start anew. He did not so much as cry out, sweat beading along his forehead as he forced it away. He finally understood Ualona. What did Rapard promise you?

“You stay with the interrogatormentors, you stay compliant and devote yourself to the empire, and we won’t touch Vantas,” Rapard said. “You step a toe out of line, you get a single demerit, and you’re receiving his head on a platter. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The lights dimmed then, and Sollux sagged as electricity stopped surging through the wires. He fell into his knees as Rapard cut him down, but forced his head high even as every muscle shook with the effort. As he hauled himself up and staggered from the room Sollux couldn’t find himself to feel fear, for himself or Karkat. He couldn’t feel anything at all. Even the pain had faded into the background, a distant reminder as he dragged himself to the mess hall. He sat in silence, staring at his food. Only Zesaim and Rosmer seemed themselves, with Rosmer even offering a shaky Ualona one of his classic beaker-made cookies. “You deserve it after what you found this evening,” the olive said, smiling. “It’s the least I can do to repay you.” The smile did not reach his eyes.

As per usual, physical endurance training took place the next night. Sollux moved towards the pool, hoping to exercise in a less load-bearing way, only for Instructor Pozoia to put a hand out. “Bikes, recruit,” the cerulean said, jerking his head in the way he wanted Sollux to go. “Ualona, take the pool.”

Ualona paused, blinking as he shook his head. “Huh?”

“The pool, Ualona,” Pozoia said, pointing.

“Oh, right, right.” Ualona trudged over to the pool, rubbing his eyes before jumping into the water. Sollux paused, but turned away to climb onto one of the exercise bikes. They’d all been a little out of it since yesterday.

After a half hour a loud splash caught Sollux’s attention, and he turned his head to see Ualona starting to flounder in the pool. Something seemed off-- his movements were erratic, head lolling to the side and dipping into the water a few seconds at a time. Sollux lifted a hand, catching the instructor’s attention and pointing. “Sir? Ualona needs help.”

Instructor Pozoia glanced up from his tablet, looking down his nose at Ualona’s struggle. “He can help himself, or drown,” he said, swiping his finger across his tablet.

Sollux hesitated before lifting his feet from his bike’s pedals, hopping off just as Trisia touched down from the climbing wall. “No, look,” he said. Ualona was starting to dip more and more, audibly choking every time he surfaced.

“He can’t even move his arms!” Trisia grabbed onto the instructor’s arm, only for Pozoia to jerk it away with a purse of his lips.

“Go ahead and help him,” Pozoia said. He met Sollux’s eyes, then Trisia’s, face set. “That’ll be a demerit on both your records.”

Sollux’s breath caught in his throat, and all his concern for Ualona melted away as Rapard’s words echoed in his ears. Automatically his learned responses kicked in, disassociating him from the situation at hand and rooting him to the ground until Ophlia charged past him with the surging fury of a freighter.

“Ualona!” The purple bounded across the gym’s floor in a matter of seconds, light on her feet as she made a beeline for the pool. Instructor Pozoia let out a soft sigh, and grabbed onto Ophlia’s horn as she passed and pinched at the base. Ophlia seized up, hesitating just long enough for Pozoia to drive his shoulder into the much larger troll’s chest and bowling her onto her back. Ophlia roared, eyes reddening before Pozoia stomped his foot onto her throat and cut her off. “No,” she croaked. “No, save him! Bastard! He doesn’t deserve to die!”

Ualona surfaced from a minute-long stint underwater then, screaming with a fury in contrast with his sluggish movements. “Rosmer!”

Rosmer froze in place, turning his head just enough to indicate he’d even noticed. “Yes, Ualona?” His whisper barely made it over the sound of Ualona’s splashing and Ophlia’s choking from the ground.

“Bastard!” Ualona sank again, kicking and driving himself into the wall. He surfaced again, voice burbling around the water in his throat before he could speak again. “Rat! What did you put in that cookie?” He let out a wet sob, choking. “I don’t want to die! Please, don’t let me die-- fffkrk--” Once again he fell beneath the surface of the water, and Sollux wasn’t surprised that he did not rise again. A sense of finality settled over him as he watched the water, and another voice of the doomed went silent.

Rosmer walked to the edge of the pool, watching as Ualona’s body drifted up to the surface. Without warning he spat into the water, turning back to face the others. “Sorry, that was rude,” he said. He smiled, but his eyes remained vacant and glassy. “You all saw his chat messages. He put us all in danger.”

Sollux looked past Rosmer, barely registering the sound of Ophlia continuing to wheeze and the dull thud of Trisia landing a mean right hook to Rosmer’s jaw. Rosmer’s glasses clattered in front of Sollux, but he didn’t move as he continued staring at Ualona’s body. 

For a moment he saw Karkat, curly hair floating in the water. 

Sollux blinked, and the vision faded. He tried to feel something, anything for the rust he’d considered a friend, but nothing came to him except a dull resignation. 

If he didn’t want to end up like Ualona, dead in the water, he had to play his part.

#homestuck #homestuck au #sollux captor #interrogatormentors #interrogatormentors au #fic #illustrated fic #death #drowning #dissociation #torture #story event

[cant-icle]

For the 200 follower promptaganza can I request an angsty (although with a happy end) Werewolf!Ryuji x Akira/Ren fic please?

“Look, I’m not expecting you to want to talk, but I feellike we need to. There’s some things we should discuss before you just shut meout completely, right? You’re my best friend. I...though we were getting to becloser than that, even. Can you...will you call me back? Please? I miss you.”

Akira hangs up the phone and barely keeps himself fromthrowing it at the wall. It’s been threedays. Three entire days sincehe’s so much as seen Ryuji, three days with no response over the phone orthrough text, and the anxiety would be clawing its way up his throat if Annhadn’t told him she’d visited him yesterday.

He doesn’t know what he did wrong, that’s the thing—if he did something, Ryuji should’ve toldhim, so he could’ve fixed it and not just ghostedhim. And it’s not like—he doesn’t even know where Ryuji lives, Ryuji always comes to Leblanc to hang out, so it’s not likehe can bring over some soup if he’s sick.

He’d thought—he’d really thought that maybe, they might begetting somewhere that night in Inokashira Park, when Ryuji’d put his hand ontop of Akira’s and leaned in, and the full moon was so beautiful in his eyesthat Akira’d blurted something stupid—

Is that what thiswas all about? The stupid thing he’d said? Something like “The full mooncouldn’t compare to your eyes,” god,Akira cringes so hard thinking about it that his shoulders touch his ears.Okay, yeah, if someone said that to himmaybe he’d ghost them for a while. But still!

It sucks, and he sucks, and his life sucks, and it’s makingPhantom Thievery very difficult without his right-hand man at his, well, righthand. He gets knocked on his ass three times during a single fight in Mementosbefore Queen all but drags him back to the Mona-Mobile.

He’s not sulking.

(He’s maybe sulking.)

When he tries to slink off at the entrance to Mementos, Anngrabs his arm. “You’re this torn up about it?” she says like she already knowsthe answer.

“He won’t answer any of my messages,” Akira mutters,scuffing his shoe along the floor with his hands in his pockets. “I don’t knowif he’s dead or sick or hit in the road somewhere or arrested or—“

“I can guarantee that he’s none of those—or, well, most ofthose. He might’ve been hit in the road.”

“Ann, don’t saythat—“

“Ugh, boys andtheir feelings,” Ann groans, and tugson his arm. “You probably would’ve found out sooner or later, but if you’regonna be distracted enough in Mementos that you’re getting your butt whooped bya Pixie—“

She leads him to a line that leads out towards the edges ofthe city. It’s still early in the day; the train isn’t packed enough that theyhave to stand, but Ann refuses to answer any of his questions and spends theentire ride messing around on her phone.

They ride for almost an hour and a half, long enough thatthey pass the suburbs and get into fields and forests, and the train car is allbut empty when they disembark. It’s hot; hot enough that Akira regrets wearinghis overshirt and rolls the sleeves up as high as they’ll go.

The road, once they leave the station, is unpaved. Ann leadshim down it for nearly twenty minutes, confidence in every inch of her body,every step that she takes. Somehow, she looks more like she belongs out herethan she does in Tokyo.

She leads him to a house, big and sprawling, that backs ontoa long field backed by a deep, dark stretch of forest. Akira expects thatthey’ll knock, but Ann just opens the door and walks right in, bold and brazenas you please, toeing off her shoes once she gets inside. “Ann,” Akira says,low and uncertain, “what—“

That’s when the biggest fucking dog he’s ever seen in hisgoddamn life steps into the hallway, its claws clicking on the linoleum, it’sears tilted up and at them. It’s big and black and bushy and one of the mostbeautiful things Akira’s seen in his life. “Holy shit,” he breathes in awe and delight (and a little bit ofapprehension,) “Ann, look at how big that dog is, what the fuck.”

The dog laughs athim.

Literally. It drops its jaw and huffs, front paws shufflingback and forth on the floor as its tail swishes once-twice behind it. “Oh mygod,” Akira groans, dropping down to his knees. For a brief moment he doesn’treally care where he is or what’s going on, because if there’s anything KurusuAkira loves in his life, it’s dogs.

(Don’t tell Morgana.)

“Hey, do you—is it friendly?” He looks up at Ann, who hasboth hands slapped over her mouth looking like she’s trying not to laugh athim. “Ann, is it—“

The dog laughs at him again and clicks its way down thehallway, shoving its face into Akira’s. He’s greeted with a muzzle full of verysharp, very white teeth as the dog sniffs his face, his ears, his hands, andfinishes off with a big sloppy lick right across his glasses. Ann loses herfight with laughter at that, even more so when the dog shoves its head into thegap between Akira’s arm and his side. Seriously, it’s huge. It dwarfs him while he’s kneeling—it’s gotta weight at leasta hundred kilo, easy.

He’s finger-combing his way through the dog’s thick ruffwhen he realizes that Ann’s further down the hall, talking to someone. He leansback and up to look, but the dog rolls over and exposes its belly veryappealingly – welp, his belly,clearly—and wriggles in invitation, distracting Akira enough that Ann andwhoever she’s talking to are almost on top of him before he looks up again.

“Akira,” Ann says, laughter in every line of his body, “I’dlike to introduce you to Sakamoto-san, Ryuji’s aunt. Ryuji, get off the floorand stop making an idiot of yourself.”

Akira stands and makes polite introduction before Ann’ssecond sentence sinks in. “You, um, named your dog after your nephew?” heblurts out before he can help himself. Sakamoto-san, Ann, and the dog laugh at him.

Or, well...now that Akira’s looking closer, it looks morelike a wolf than a dog—it’s got the big triangular ears, the long, slendermuzzle, the narrow eyes and very large teeth. Maybe a mixed-breed? A wolf-dog?They have that sort of thing, right?

Wolf-dog-Ryuji follows him around the house whileSakamoto-san makes pleasant talk and insists that they stay for lunch; eachtime Akira stops, dog-Ryuji shoves his head under Akira’s hand. Dog-Ryuji istall enough that Akira can rest his hand on his back and ruffle his fur whileAkira is standing; dog-Ryuji is also shedding fit to burst, leaving long, softfur all over his hands and his leg.

Out of habit, he takes his phone out and levels it atdog-Ryuji; dog-Ryuji tilts his head and drops his jaw, just a bit, in a caninesmile. It’s a cute picture; he saves it and sends a copy to Ryuji out of habitwith the caption met your namesake today.

Across the room, attached to a charger on the kitchencounter, Ryuji’s phone goes off.

As it turns out, dog-Ryuji isn’t a namesake. As it turns out, it’s a wolf, and it’s alsoregular Ryuji.

“Hold up,” Akira blurts in the middle of the explanationSakamoto-san tries to give him, grabbing onto Ryuji’s head and staring himstraight in the eye. Ryuji makes a grumble in the back of his throat and foldshis ears back in appeasement, shuffling his paws and wagging his tail. “So youmean—all this time you’ve been hamming it up, watching me make an idiot ofmyself—“

Ryuji nods, and drops his jaw to grin a little wider. Hiseyes are the same, a warm chocolate brown. “I would’ve thought you’d be blond.”

“Nah,” Ann says, “he dyes his hair. It doesn’t carry overwith the transformation.”

Akira has a lot of questions. Like, a whole lot of them. “Is this why you ran off the other night?” heasks, a little tentative. Ryuji whines and pushes himself up onto his haunchesto drape his forepaws over Akira’s shoulders. He then proceeds to swipe histongue very messily over Akira’s face, over and over and over again until he’showling in laughter and his glasses have been knocked off somewhere.

They’ve got a lot totalk about, that’s for damn sure, but in the meantime it’s nice to have Ryuji’shead warm and heavy on his lap, and it’s nice to run his fingers through Ryuji’sthick fur and scratch behind his ears hard enough to hear his tail thumping onthe ground behind them. Ryuji’s just as cute a wolf as he is a human; so whatif he goes all furry a few times a year? It’s something Akira thinks he canbring himself to deal with.

(things i wanted to fit in but couldn’t figure out how:

ryuji’s extended family has a massive property outside of tokyo bc werewolfism runs in the family, it’s basically a pack house for the times when they have to be transformed

in this the full moon is a very strong call; they can resist it for one moon, but no more than that, and if they forcibly stay human for too long they’ll be stuck as a wolf for like a week or so when they can’t resist anymore (like stretching a rubber band too far or smth whatever this is just a small prompt why am i trying to plot)

#filed under: #canticle's (bi)centennial celebration #Anonymous

[welovekpopscenarios]

Friction (Fallout!AU Woozi x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

With your rifle damaged, you had no other choice than head to the nearest city to get it repaired. You didn’t expect the person doing the job to be such an insufferable jerk, however. But things become interesting the more you get to know the man repairing your weapon. Fallout/Post-Nuclear War!AU.

Fandom: Seventeen

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Woozi x Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, Woozi and Reader being assholes to each other

Word Count: 3955

A/N: Will I ever stop writing for Seventeen? No. Will I ever stop writing game au’s? Probably not. As I said in my Mingyu one, don’t get put off by this being a Fallout AU, it isn’t that central to the story, and I hope it’s still enjoyable for everyone to read, but just ask me if there’s anything you’re confused about, I’ll be happy to answer! I wanted to write for Woozi bc I absolutely adore him and why not write for your bias wrecker haw haw help. But yeah, this is a classic enemies to lovers trope bc I’m a sucker for that type of stuff. Also just picture Jihoon being like, a weapons mechanic or whatever and being sweaty and working hard and ugh stop it. I really hope you give it a chance and enjoy it! Happy reading, ily all!

 - PART 2 -

The heat of the sun bore down on your skin, sweat pooling into nearly every crevice of your body as the sun seared into the leather bonds and cotton long johns that sat on your frame as a pathetic excuse for armour, leaving you more than irritably sticky and exhausted. The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you made your way through the tore up streets, dodging stray pipes ready to slice your head off from their position in the walls and climbing over car wreckages whose engines have long been silenced over 200 years ago, eyes half-heartedly scanning the corners for raiders or thugs ready to point their pistols at you and steal the caps stashed at the bottom of your rucksack.

Not that you felt like you cared at the moment, to be quite honest. The blaring sun and the hours long walk, sneaking past enemies and taking out the ones who caught you have, to put it frankly, completely drained you faster than you drained all your water supplies in a single day. A raider could easily pop out from whatever hidey hole he’s dug himself, put a shiny one right between your half-closed eyes, and you’d thank him for putting you out of your misery. You were that tired.

And what made this hellish journey even worse was your destination – and your problem. Some time ago your favourite rifle took a tumble from your position on the broken, open second floor of a house you were staying in one night, and when you hopped down to retrieve it, you were heartbroken to find it smashed at the barrel, trigger bent sideways, and completely useless.

Normally you would just toss the weapon aside and grab the newest one you could find, making do, a common occurrence in the wasteland. But this rifle meant something to you, it was special. It was your first one, given to you by your father before he…well. It was important to you, and you needed it fixed. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to repair the thing, and so that brought you to start your trek towards the last place you wanted to be.

Diamond fucking City. "The Great Green Jewel" of the Commonwealth.

Diamond City – while a hub of trade, services, security and life – was also home to complete nutters and crazies, and that wasn’t even counting the ones trying to kill you yet. Brawlers, thieves, con-artists, and now synths were apparently added to the mix, the city was a complete shitshow, to put it kindly, and to put the icing on the sweetroll, it was all controlled by a racist asshole who liked to keep his civilians as obedient as he thought he could. But, that being said, the city was the only successful one in the Commonwealth, booming with activity, and the only one you somewhat trusted closest to you.

And so you walked for days on end; starving, parched, and sick of it all. Your lips were cracked and drier than the trees standing in the countryside, feet more swollen than a Super mutants head, and limbs moving slower than a Brahmin cow. But still you walked. And by the grace of whatever sadistic deity left above, you reached the entrance of the city, the guards shifting in their positions and shooting you suspicious glares. The one directly outside the gates lifted his gun to you, standing straighter, prepared to shoot you down where you (barely) stood should you try anything. Not that you had the energy, even if you wanted to.

“Hold up,” he grunted, shoulders hunched into a defensive position while you wavered in place, swaying slightly side to side in order to keep yourself upright. “Who’re you and what’s your business here?”

You tried to reply, you really did, but all that came out was a lousy croak of your name, followed by a short coughing fit. “I’m here for weapon repairs,” you managed, breathing heavy, and so completely done with this conversation already. As if you were going to make the city any worse.

The guard shuffled, moving his balance foot to foot, as he mulled you over, eyeing you head to toe. A guard taking watch on the rafters whistled to grab his attention, the young mans’ eyes flitting upwards to him in surprise.

“Let em in, Kookie. They ain’t gonna cause any problem, and they’re just here for business. Just let em through,” he ordered, the toothpick in his mouth moving with each syllable that rolled off of his tongue, scratching at his back lazily as he leaned against the railings. The guard – Kookie – furrowed is brows in uncertainty, eyes flickering between your deadpan face and the other guard. He licked nervously at his lips, fingers fumbling around his rifle.

“But, Johnny, Mayor McDonough said-“

“McDonough said keep the bad ones out. And my excellent judge of character says they ain’t a bad one,” he drawled, fixing Kookie with a look that screamed ‘are you that dumb?’ “McDonough also don’t want anything stopping business in his city, especially a greenie guard. That’ll look very bad on you, kid.”

Kookie look like he wanted to say more, but what could he say? He was only new, and Johnny has been manning the entrance for years. He has to trust his superior. Nodding in satisfaction at Kookie’s compliance, he turned his gaze to you, flashing a smile enough to rival the Cheshire Cat’s you’ve seen in those books your father showed you when you were little. “I’ll open up the gate for you. Head on in, dollface. Welcome to Diamond City.”

You were too dead to make a comment on the nickname, instead throwing a lacklustre salute in Johnny’s direction and ignoring Kookie’s scowl as his eyes followed your form, heading deeper into most popular civilisation in the Commonwealth.

What struck you first was the lights, the entire city lit top to bottom in various types – open flame, bulbs, neon signs, even floodlights – the entire city illuminated and glowing, which only served to highlight the mass of citizens sprawled throughout the area. The noise levels were high, something you weren’t used to unless it was from the occasional scream of pain in the distance. The noise was filled with chatter, people actually having conversations, or promoting their trade from their stalls scattered throughout the centre, and music from the city’s radio station echoed throughout the space faintly, creating an almost happy atmosphere as you walked to the centre.

It was completely alien to you, to see this many people together and not have them try to shoot you, or watching them fight, or any other negative you could find in the book. It also made you do a double take on the city’s reputation. While you were cautious of the metropolis, a seed of mistrust planted firmly in the pit of your gut, you reasoned that the city wouldn’t have stood for as long as it did if it really was full of lunatics and thugs. Maybe this place wasn’t that bad.

Maybe.

When your jaded eyes landed on what looked to be a restaurant in the very centre, manned by one of those Protectron robots and wearing what looked to be an absurd chef’s hat placed neatly on his metallic head and stirring a large pot, you nearly wept with relief, dragging your heavy legs and plonking yourself on one of the stools, burying your head into your arms on the counter in front of you and heaving the longest sigh you think you’ve ever made in your existence.

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"

You slowly raise your head from its place in your arms, eyes searching around the area for the person who addressed you, only finding one guy sitting a seat away from yours, slurping on noodles contentedly.

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"

You faced forward, the lights on the Protectron gleaming as he spoke, the waves in his voice bouncing with an electronic twinge. You shot him a confused stare, but he was unperturbed as expected of a robot, continuously stirring his large pot of noodles automatically.

“What?” you asked, positively baffled. Were you too tired to understand basic speech now?

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"

You heard a chuckle resonate near you from the only other occupant at the noodle bar. He shot you a friendly grin when you turned your head, still chuckling in pity at your expression.

“Just say yes,” he told you ominously, and while you narrowed your eyes in distrust, you did as instructed.

“Ye-es,” you dragged out the word, confusion lacing your tone and a brow raised on your dirtied face. The robot’s metal claws picked up a bowl from the table, monotonously spooning noodles into the chipped ceramic dish and pushing it towards you when he was finished.

“That’s Takahashi, he cooks the noodles here,” the man explained, inclining his head to the robot who happily stirred his pot. “The noodles cost 20 caps, just put em in the box on the bar.”

Nodding in understanding, you took the sufficient caps from your bag, placing them in said box and promptly digging in, practically inhaling the food your stomach cried out for in the past few days, barely even feeling the burn on your tongue as you swallowed the savoury substance, eyes nearly falling shut in happiness.

“Thanksh man,” you mumbled around a mouthful, too impatient and hungry to stop eating and address the guy who helped you. He smiled slightly at you as you ate, spooning his own a lot more gracefully into his mouth.

“No problem, I was confused when I first got here too. I’m Scoups,” he introduced, hand reaching out to shake your own, his nearly encasing yours whole with how large it was. You returned the greeting once you swallowed. The red glow from the fairy lights strung around the tarp of the noodle bar cast shadows on his smiling face, a genuine smile, such a rare sight in the wasteland. “So, what brings you to Diamond City? Looking for a place to stay?”

You licked sauce off your lips, swirling your noodles absentmindedly in their bowl. You nodded, nails tapping against the table. Scoups bobbed his head in understanding, folding his thick arms on the countertop. “Do you know anyone who can repair weapons?” you asked, and Scoups grinned, mischief swirling in his dark orbs.

“Look around,” he laughed, a wave of his arm accentuating his words, your eyes roaming the space that was littered with all types of services – from mechanics, armourers, merchants, even a hairdresser. “The better question would be where can’t you get it repaired. Pick your poison. But if I were you, I’d go see Woozi. He’s the best in the City for a reason. I’ll take you to see him after you’ve finished eating. You look exhausted.”

You smiled at him in gratitude, one he returned amiably, and finished your meal, listening to him as he explained the layout and manners of the infamous Green Jewel that was Diamond City. A short while later with a belly blissfully stuffed and feeling rejuvenated, you followed Scoups as he led you to one of booths in the city, this one covered with various bits and pieces from weapons hung around the sides and a simple metal sign with ‘Woozi’s’ carved into it hanging high above. Scoups didn’t walk the full distance to the stall, only pointed out its location and mumbling a ‘good luck with him, you’ll need it’ and a ‘see you later’ before he was heading off in the direction of what looked to be a bar.

Edging closer to the stall, you could see the parts more clearly, the grey of the booth littered with scopes and barrels along the walls, some weapons sitting on display on random boxes for all to see, looking in better condition than any gun you’ve ever seen, even shiner than anything you’ve ever seen. Standing at the entrance, the stall was smaller than expected, only bearing the essentials and locks for protection. Sitting at a workbench was who you suspected to be the man himself, fiddling with a shotgun and a look of utmost concentration upon his face that could only ever be found on the most skilled marksmen.

Sweat lined his forehead, falling from his hairline and down his temple, and the occasional oil mark was splattered across his face, on his cheeks, chin, even the bridge of his nose. His teeth bit into the skin of his lower lip, the flesh red and plump from constant worry, and his eyebrows were furrowed almost angrily, as if frustrated with his work, twitching every so often in annoyance, nostrils flaring with every heavy breath that ached to leave his chest. He was definitely one of the better-looking men you’ve seen in the wasteland – a strange feeling in your chest spreading through your tired limbs the longer you stared at him. He had a strange allure, certainly, a man dedicated to his craft with an air of no nonsense about him that was a well needed trait for survival. And that tingly feeling in your stomach was certainly strange, perhaps even more alien to you than the city you stood in.

“You’re in my light.”

Huh?

“What?”

A sharp exhale left the lips you’ve been focusing on far too much to be normal just moments ago, his gloved hands placing the shotgun down carefully and shifting in his stool to face you, pulling the gloves off finger by finger as he stared at you with an expression that almost made you flush with embarrassment, as if you had just done the most stupid thing possible.

“I said,” he spoke deliberately slow, like one would when dealing with a child who didn’t understand what they’ve done was bad, and it had sparks of annoyance flashing through you. The nerve of this guy! “You’re in my light. Or are you deaf? Too many beatings to the head?”

You now understood why Scoups wished you luck when dealing with this guy. You needed it, because each passing second only made you want to punch this guy so hard he’ll be headed straight for New Vegas on the other side of the country.

“There’s light everywhere, jackass,” you retorted, glancing around and at the sky. It was still midday, still hot as hell, and just when you thought you were feeling better, you get sent to this jerk who’ll be responsible for fixing your rifle. If you’ll even let him, at this point. “Or are you that petty?”

Woozi looked untroubled by your comment, resting his left elbow on the table and leaning his weight on it, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. A smirk you wanted to kick right off his pretty face.

“I need to be able to see what I’m doing. You don’t get to be the best in the city by doing a half-assed job,” he boasted, looking as smug as a raider who just found a huge box of caps on some poor helpless traveller he butchered.

“Then I suggest find a candle and some matches, day light doesn’t last forever,” you suggested cheekily, pleased with the scoff he gave and downturn of his lips. God, this was infuriating. You don’t know why you’re getting so worked up over this. “I need my rifle repaired,” you settled for getting straight to the point. The sooner you could get into a bed, the better.

“Well, no shit. It’s kinda what I do,” he sassed, his stupid perfect brow raised and dark eyes scanning your form, head to toe. You squirmed under his scrutiny, suddenly conscious of the dust caked on your face, the scars littering your body, the dirt hidden beneath your nails. It was foolish, really. Things like good looks and hygiene weren’t a priority anymore, but for some reason you felt like you should have at least scrubbed up a bit before coming to see this man.

Which was absolutely ridiculous. It’s not like you had to impress him.

Certainly not.

You barked out a sarcastic laugh in response, face dry and showing no semblance of humour whatsoever. “Funny, twerp,” his lip curled into a snarl at the insult, “I know that. I was told to come here because you were apparently good. Scoups sent me.”

“Scoups?” he questioned in faint surprise. He hummed, regarding you thoughtfully before eventually sighing in resignation. “Show me this rifle of yours, and I’ll see what can be done,” he sat up straighter, hands facing palm up and awaiting your prized possession. You reached into your rucksack for the rifle that lay sadly at the bottom, dragging it out carefully and placing it into his hands, watching as that concentrated expression from before returned to his face, looking much older than you expect it to be.

His slender fingers toyed with the weapon, running up and down the barrel, pushing the trigger around and giving it a shake, an awful rattling noise resounding from the simple action and simultaneously putting a grimace on both your face and Woozi’s. After another moment of inspection, he placed the rifle down on the table next to the shotgun and left his stool to rummage through crates of spare parts and tools, metal clanging bouncing against the walls of his booth.

“I’ve never seen a barrel that badly smashed before,” he observed, planting various tools onto the surface of the workbench, the table soon filling with wrenches and screwdrivers and pliers, more than you’ve ever seen in one spot before. Taking a seat once again at the table, he placed the shotgun to the side, focusing his attention on your rifle again as he brought it to eye level, a tut of frustration leaving his mouth. “I can fix the trigger no problem, but the barrel is another story. If I was you, kid, I’d just dump it and get a new-“

“No!” you blurted out, panic putting a fresh weight on your chest. You needed this to get fixed. Woozi stared at you in bewilderment, eyes wide in confusion and fingers stalling their movements. There was a beat of silence as you simply stared at each other; Woozi silent as he awaited and explanation, and you silent in shame, heat crawling up your neck. “Please,” you plead, voice near mute but heavy with desperation. “This gun means a lot to me, and I really need it fixed. I can’t do without it. Please.”

It must have been the waver in your voice, or perhaps the shake of your hands, or even the dulling of your eyes that had Woozi’s hardened stare softening until was just blank, returning his gaze to the weapon in question. His tongue poked at his cheek and you watched the action, a cold feeling freezing your body in place as you waited in horrible anticipation. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, swiftly looking away when he met your saddened expression, a faint blush blossoming on his skin, and then he was rolling his eyes, huffing out a quick breath and turning his body around.

“It’s gonna take some time, and a lot of supplies,” he announced, his glare having lost the venomous edge it had and instead just a plain old bothered expression similar to an old man’s. “But, I might be able to get it fixed. No promises though,” he added quickly, but you were too elated to really care, body sagging in relief and a grin stretching ear to ear on your muddy visage.

“Thank you so much,” you beamed, that heavy weight lifting off your chest and your heart feeling brighter for what felt like the first time in months. The blush on his face grew darker as he saw you smile, his own smirk growing on his lips as he gave you a sly look.

“Gonna cost you a good amount of caps too so don’t look too happy, sugar,” he drawled, and your joy began to deflate slowly like air out of a tire. Right, the cost. Shit.

“What’s the damage?” you inquired, forehead creasing in worry as you thought of the little cache in your bag. Fuck, you didn’t need this to burn a hole in your savings, you still need to find a room to stay in and get food and drink. Woozi examined his tools and the rifle, mentally calculating the effort it would take to repair it.

“Giving the time and supplies I need, I’d say around…500-600 caps.”

“500 fucking caps?!” you shrieked. “I don’t even have half of that! And I still need to find somewhere to stay!” Fucking hell, you really couldn’t get a break, could you?

Woozi made a hissing noise that sounded like it was half in mock sympathy, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘what can you do about it?’ sort of motion. “Well, I guess you’re gonna have to find some work around the city then. Plenty that needs to be done, I’m sure. In the meantime, I’ll be slaving away over your precious rifle. But it’ll be done. I’m not a genius for nothing. So, will you have the money or does this conversation end here?”

Your fists clenched at your sides, once again supressing to urge to knock his teeth out of his skull, and clearly, he could tell, smirk growing and eyes narrowing in a challenge. “I’ll have the money. Just…please fix that rifle. I’ll pay you when you’re done.”

“Don’t worry, your rifle will get repaired. But I only accept half up front, and the rest when the jobs done,” he explained. Ah, just another bit of Deathclaw shit dropped on top of your day. This’ll leave you with a dent in your caps, hopefully you can find some work soon, or else you’ll be broke and living on the streets without any way to pay for the gun you’ve walked miles to sort.

“Fine,” you grumbled, hands hurriedly pulling the box out from the bottom and pouring them directly onto Woozi’s workbench, watching as some toppled off the edge and onto the floor of his workshop, loud clinks ringing in their wake. At least you still have that other little bag of caps hidden in your spare clothes. Woozi looked pissed at the mess you made, chest blowing up and deflating thickly as he tried to contain his anger. After all, he couldn’t really say much, you had given him the caps.

“There should be around 220 caps in that,” you announced, closing your bag and shifting it on your back. “I’ll have the rest when you’re done. Bye”

And then you were off, walking back into the throng of people of Diamond City, eyes open for any opportunity for work and shoulders slumped in misery. Woozi was baffled by you, to say the least. In all his time working in this God-forsaken shithole of a city, he’s never met anyone quite like you, quite so…like him. He’s met compliant, kind customers, and he’s met outright assholes who he almost refused to service if the pay wasn’t worth it, but you were different. He got a kick out of how much he pissed you off, how your lovely face would scrunch up in irritation, and tasted his own medicine when you threw it right back at him. Definitely more than meets the eye, with you. But as he stared at your rifle, thumbs rubbing against the dents and cracks, he figured that he’d be done with you soon once this was over and never have to see you again.

Oh, how wrong he was.

And oh, what an interesting week this will prove to be.

#mimi fics #kpop #kpop scenarios #Seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fics #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen reactions #woozi #lee jihoon #woozi scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi angst #woozi fluff #s.coups #jeonghan #joshua #jun #hoshi #wonwoo #dk #mingyu #minghao #seungkwan #vernon #dino #the8 #seungcheol #soonyoung

[decembercamiecherries]

How about a "7 Minutes in Heaven" prompt in a high school/college AU? >:3c I feel like having the boys play spin the bottle at a party would be hilarious! Imagine how mortified Killua would be when Gon is the person who is matched to be shoved in the closet with him?

It would be hysterical XDDDD I cracked up when I read this request. Okay lets do this!

We’re going to do a college au bc that’s so much more fun :3 I hope you it, thank you for waiting so long for me to get this out!

(Part two can be read here)...(Part three can be read here)

Killua had a bad feeling about this game before his so called ‘friends’ even explained the rules. And then, after they did explain the rules, he immediately wished he had left the party within the first ten minutes like he’d originally planned.

But then Killua looked up to meet brown-gold that glittered brightly with curiosity and interest, and he knew he had to stay.

Killua hadn’t spent time with Gon in a very, very long time, despite the undeniable fact that they were each other’s best friends. That was the problem with college- the second one class assigned work, the rest followed suit until Killua found himself awake at three in the morning trying not to pull his hair out in frustration. This was actually the first time he’d been able to see Gon in nearly two weeks.

So. He had to stay. For Gon.

But that moment of weakness turned out to be the biggest mistake of Killua’s entire life. Because with Killua’s shitty luck, it was only natural that the stupid coke bottle would land on him, then Gon.

Of freakin’ course.

“Ooooooo, Seven Minutes in Heaven for Gon and Killua!” Palm cooed and Killua grounded his teeth together hard enough for his jaw to ache. “Get going, you two!”

Gon’s brow was furrowed in confusion. “I don’t get it. What’s-”

“Shut up!” Killua forcefully pulled Gon off the floor and away from their circle of friends that whistled and clapped at their retreating backs. He was going to murder these people before the night was over for doing this to him. With Gon of all people. Damnit!

“But, Killua! I’ve never heard of Seven Minutes in Heaven before, I don’t know what we have to-”

“I said,” Killua hissed as he yanked Palm’s closet door open. “Shut up! Just- get  in the closet!”

Gon took one look at Killua’s face and visibly paled. He ducked into the closet without another word and Killua followed, slamming the door shut behind them.

It wasn’t a big closet which, admittedly, was the whole point of this insane game. Killua barely had enough room for his shoulders to fit and couldn’t see a single thing in the dark. But he could definitely hear the sound of Gon’s breathing less than a feet away from him and Killua knew without a doubt that if he tried to move his arm, they would touch.

Killua was not going to do that though, because he would sooner die or melt into a puddle than try to make a move on his best friend who just also happened to be his crush for the past three years. He almost wished he could melt into a puddle because then maybe he could slide out under the door crack and bolt-

“Killua?” Gon’s voice was very quiet but it filled the entire space.

“What.”

“Um. What are we supposed to do in here?”

Warmth exploded across Killua’s cheeks. He didn’t need to see his face to know it had to be growing redder than a stop sign.

“N-Nothing,” he said and immediately cursed himself for stuttering.

“It didn’t sound like nothing, though.”

“Well, you heard wrong, then.”

“Killua.”

Gon was pouting, he knew. And Killua could never resist Gon’s ridiculous pout even in the pitch black of a closet.

“Its….” God, what Killua would give to not be explaining this right now. “Its a game in which two people have to stay in a closet for seven minutes.”

“Like we are now.”

“Yeah.”

“But, what else? There has to be something else.”

Killua’s hands curled into claws. “I can’t believe you don’t know this. Remind me when we get out of here to sit your ass down and explain every single party game to ever exist-”

“Killua, you’re stalling!” Gon whined. There was a shuffling sound and Killua was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that Gon had just moved even closer than they already were. “Just tell me what it is!”

His heartbeat was very loud and heavy in his chest. He could feel every thud all the way down to his toes. Somewhere in the mess of his spinning thoughts, Killua distantly wondered if Gon could hear it, too.

“Killua…”

Killua jerked at the hot hand that brushed against his. How Gon knew where his hand was, he didn’t know. He didn’t get why Gon was lacing their fingers together, either, but his mind too jumbled at the moment to protest.

He took a shuddering breath to calm his racing heart. 

It didn’t help.

“While you’re in the closet, y-you’re supposed to. Um.”

Gon’s whisper washed over Killua’s burning skin. “You’re supposed to- what?” 

Killua shrunk back into the closet’s wall. Gon was way too close. He was cornering Killua, leaving no room to escape. 

Killua wasn’t sure if he could escape even if he wanted to, at this point; Gon was all around him, his scent his voice his body. Killua’s senses were being overwhelmed with Gon. He was drowning in it.

“I, I don’t-” Killua said weakly as his knees started to buckle.

“Killua,” Gon said again, voice shaking slightly with something that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter. His free hand slid around Killua’s waist, helping him to stand but also pressing their bodies together, and Killua just barely held back a shiver at the possessive touch. “Are you sure you know what this game is about?”

Killua squeezed his eyes shut. If he wasn’t so dizzy right now, he would’ve shrieked in frustration.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” he finally whispered and Gon’s laughter reverberated around them like bells.

“I know,” Gon said, a grin in the lilt of his voice, and kissed Killua on the mouth.

(part two)

#message of this story: #gon is a troll #and killua needs to not underestimate him #haha #XD #dc writes #requests #killugon #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #palm siberia #she ships it #hunterxhunter #modern au #au #college au #two more requests to go #i'll do them later