#I will eventually deliver serious content LMAO

[synthwayve]

(Reupload because I forgot a detail) today’s silly stupid doodle brought to you by my constant brainrot and the courtesy of @karnaca78 :D They’re both so horrible I hope they commit crimes against humanity together.

[rueclfer]

casual // touya todoroki part 3

when the boy you're in love with wants to keep it casual

a/n: so much happening in this one sorryy i just wanted to nicely wrap it all up lmao i need more soft touya/dabi content plssss i love u dabi fuckers but ur all so horny! <3 thank u everyone who was on ur knees begging for touya to suffer i hope i delivered.

part one part two

It had been about a couple of weeks since your outbursts at Touya's apartment. Since then, it's been eerily silent outside of the usual city noises- you couldn't even hear his footsteps at night anymore. For the first few days, you were living on eggshells around your apartment complex. Your window stayed locked with the curtain drawn, music would continuously be playing throughout your living room to mask any type of noise, and you rarely left your front door.

You were in a constant state of battle between your brain and your heart, but had ultimately accepted the demise of your relationship with Touya. After several "pep talks" with Toga, and her berating you to "stand the fuck up" and to get yourself together, the hope that you clutched onto slowly began to falter as the days went by.

"Like, look at this. Does this look fucking casual to you? " You whine to Toga, while scrolling through the messages Touya had been sending you since that night. She looked at you with sadness in her eyes.

"It pains me to see you this way. Him too." She pouts. "He has his reasons to not want anything serious, and maybe once his chokehold on you is gone, y'all can rationally talk about it, but PLEASE, Y/N, you're killing yourself by overthinking everything about your relationship with him."

You knew she was right, but you were still allowed to be bitter about it all. The universe seemed to enjoy the melancholic energy in your apartment as well as your sulking. Even with all of the windows closed, you could hear the storm coming down loud and clear.

You stood by your window for a moment, debating if you should open the curtains and enjoy the weather, or keep it shut to protect your peace from potential disturbance.

How much longer will I hide in this apartment from him?

You slowly draw the curtains back, revealing the melted gray skyline of the city, swallowed whole by fog and pelting rain. You open your window, and step out to sit on your windowsill, letting a gust of chilled wind sweep past your bare face. You take a deep breath of the cold air, savoring this solitude for a moment.

You had been properly ghosting him for a couple weeks now. You weren't sure what you would say to him when you would eventually run into him or decide to finally talk it out.

Something that worried you even more, was when you would eventually start going out with your mutual friend group again. Toga assures you that it would be fine, and that no one caught wind of everything that happened between you two, but that wasn't your main concern. You weren't so sure if you could pretend to be on normal terms with him anymore, especially in front of a crowd. The thought of having to continue pretending in front of him and everyone made your skin crawl with anxiety.

The scent of burnt tobacco in the air mixed in with the aroma of wet pavement emanating from the earth below pulled you out of thought.

You look up to see Touya leaning up against the railing of the fire escape with a cigarette in between his fingers, looking off into the city.

You take in a sharp inhale of air and snap your gaze forward, trying to find anything on the street to distract yourself. Maybe he didn't notice you, but his presence alone was enough to stop your breathing.

It's been two weeks, no contact, barely a glance. Do you end this now? Or do you try to silently crawl back into your apartment and pretend like you never saw him? You could just start with a "hey" or something. You asked yourself what would Toga tell you to do in this situation.

"What 'cha been up to?" He suddenly breaks the silence. "First time breathing fresh air in a minute?"

You purse your lips and glance back up to see him exhaling slowly and letting the tendrils of the smoke dissipate into the dark clouds, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

Fuck.

"The usual." You say, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. "And no, I've been out and about."

Which was a lie.

There was an extended moment of silence. You almost guessed that he went back inside, but you didn't dare look up to check.

"You haven't responded to my texts." He cautiously says. "It's been a while, you know?"

"I know."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"I don't really know what to say."

Another beat of silence.

"Can I come down?" He asks.

You glance up and meet your eyes with his, causing your stomach to knot.

"Sure." You sigh.

You guess you'd rather get it over with than let the anticipation of it sit in the back of your head for much longer.

He sat on the ground across from you, letting his back rest against the rails. He offers his cigarette to you, which you willingly took for the nerves.

You two sat in silence for a moment while you soaked up each other's presence, occasionally passing the cigarette back and forth.

"I fucking hate you." You finally say.

"Okay."

"But I love you, which is worst."

It felt like there was a sudden shift in the pressure on your shoulders now that you've said those words to his face, sober, calm, and intentionally. You felt more confident speaking about it.

"For our whole arrangement or whatever this is, I've always wanted some part of you that you couldn't give me. None of that was your fault, but I'm not sorry for it."

"You shouldn't be-" He starts.

"But." You cut him off, meeting his eyes. "I am sorry for how it came out. I didn't mean to villainize you when we weren't in a relationship, and we didn't establish anything. You don't owe me that just because I caught feelings."

He took a moment to make sure you were done speaking, in which you motioned him to continue.

"Okay, well, yeah you shouldn't be sorry for your feelings. Ever. And I never wanted you to have to pent it to this point, you know? I wish you could have told me about it sooner, but I get why you didn't."

"You knew I liked you." You cock an eyebrow. "You told me that night."

He sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "Well yes, and no. I found out you had an inkling of a crush, but that was when we first met way before we started doing this and it never came up again, so I didn't think anything of it. I seriously never thought it developed into... something more."

"I guess it's my fault that it exploded out like that. I just hoped that it would sizzle out. I wasn't ever planning on telling you, honestly. "

"At all?" His eyebrows furrowed in hurt.

"Would it have changed anything?" You cock an eyebrow. "We'd still be having this conversation."

"What was your plan then? If you weren't going to tell me?" He bitterly says, suddenly upset. "Wait for me to notice? Return the feelings? C'mon now, Y/N, you're better than that."

Ouch.

"Better than that?" You scoff. "Okay, then tell me Touya, one night I'm in your bed and we're rubbing noses, kissing, we're laughing together, and it suddenly comes out. 'Touya, I really like being with you like this, and you make me feel like a better person. I only want you. Let's be together.' What would you say?"

He pressed his lips together, suddenly quiet.

"If I'm so great, don't you think I deserve to hear it back from someone who feels the same?" You take a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in until your lungs burn. "Why would I put us in that situation when we both know you wouldn't be able to say it back?"

"Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. Of course you deserve it. You deserve it more than anyone." His voice falters. "It's all really complicated in my head right now, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wished you didn't let me hurt you like this. I genuinely do consider you to be a best friend of mine, and I care for you, so much. You know that right?"

You roll your eyes. "Duh, I know that. I've accepted this unrequited love for a while now. There were just some friend aspects that made the romantic aspects made sense and everything else confusing. Your siblings, visiting your mom with you, all of our talks- it just made things complicated, and not so.. casual."

"I'm sorry." He mutters. "About everything."

"I'm sorry, too."

After a second, you reach your hand out to him, in which he didn't hesitate to grab back. You didn't have much more to say, but this last physical exchange said it all.

I forgive you. I care about you. Take care of yourself. Don't be a stranger. I love you.

You couldn't help but sadly smile at this. This was the end of your entanglement with him, as long and messy as it was, you still hoped that he could someday meet someone to fall headfirst into- the same way you did for him.

"We're still friends?" You silently asked.

"Don't be stupid." He releases his hand from your grasp and lightly swats at your arm. "Of course we are. And neighbors, so terrorize me any time you want, and I'll do the same."

"Deal."

-

"So you don't like him anymore?" Toga asks, kicking her legs back and forth as she sits on the bathroom sink counter while Kurogiri goes at your hair with kitchen shears.

"I'll always love him, but I don't feel like I need to mourn what could've been with him anymore. We're fine, we've talked, and we're still friends. That's all I can really ask for." You shrug.

"And your hair? What's all this for, then?" You motions to your hair.

"Can't I just want a haircut?" You roll your eyes.

"Hair holds energy." Kurogiri suddenly says. "Cutting a significant amount off signifies an acceptance of change and the turning over of a new leaf."

"Exactly. Thank you, Kuro." You beam. "You get it. It's my symbolism for moving on, or some shit like that."

Another couple of weeks have passed since your last chat with Touya. You had seen each other in passing, and you've hung out at each other's apartment with the others. You were grateful that it all felt semi-normal. Everytime you were in a room together, you felt that there will always be a twinge of magnetism in your fingertips that's going to want to grab him and pull him towards you, but lately, you've been obedient and refraining yourself from getting too close.

"Your hair is so cute, I want mine short like yours now!" Toga pouts, fiddling with snipped lockets of your hair.

"You would hate short hair." You say matter-of-factly. "You wouldn't be able to put your hair in braids or buns anymore."

"I guess you're right." She murmurs. "You sure you don't want to go out with us?"

Kurogiri and Toga were preparing to meet up with Jin at the bar on your street. Of course they thought if they ambushed you at your apartment, they could drag you with them, but they couldn't have been more wrong.

"I'm sure. Be safe and let me know if you need to crash here or something, okay? Thank you Kuro, for the cut." You squeeze both of them in for a hug before ushering them out.

"Don't kiss any randoms, drink water, and slow the fuck down when drinking." You warn her. "Kuro, don't get in a fight, and tell her to fuck off if she makes you carry her home again."

He shoots you a thumbs up. "If you change your mind, you can always meet us there."

After the door shuts behind them, a long sigh escapes your lips. It was a Saturday night and you had no plans other than sweeping up the hair off your floor. On nights like these, you would usually be spending it with Touya, but things have changed now, and you were still avoiding spending one-on-one time with him like the plague.

As you start putting away the kitchen shears used to chop your hair, your phone goes off.

"Tenko?" You set the phone on speaker, continuing to sweep the ground.

"Please God, are you home?" He asks frantically.

"Yes? What's wrong?" His tones stop you in your tracks.

"We're upstairs. Dabi and Spinner can't handle their weed and are too fucking high. I need help before I start beating the shit out of them."

You deadpan. He's asking you to babysit on a Saturday night. You may be lonely, but not enough to have to deal with a few idiots who were on another planet.

But it would give you a reason to see Touya.

You missed him, but you had spent enough sleepless nights crying into your pillow about your loss. You still weren't sure if you missed pretending to be his, or the friendship you had prior to your confession. This inner conflict only drove you further away from him.

In the background, you hear craze laughing and crashing as if furniture were being thrown.

"Who are you talking to?!" Spinner's voice screeches from the background.

"Fuck off! Don't come near me!" Tenko cries, muffling the phone as if he was holding it under his arm.

"So you're all at Touya's? Who the hell is Dabi?"

"Dabi is Touya." He scoffs. "It's his gamertag, duh. Can you please just come over? I want to play league of legends and these fuckers keep bugging."

"Is that Y/N? Gimme the fucking phone." Touya joins in on the conversation.

"No!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his misfortune. Tenko had always been the most impatient and childish out of the boys, so it was satisfying to hear him suffer for once- especially when you knew that this was 100% his fault.

"So sorry baby boy, even if I wanted to, I can't. I have someone over." You lie.

You figured that a simple no wouldn't be enough to get Tenko to drop it. He's always had a sort of ick about hook ups and preferred to stay as far away as he could from hearing about his friends' sex life. It would also save you the trouble of dealing with them marching downstairs to bang on your window until you let them in.

"Fuck. Whatever, say less-" Tenko starts.

"WHAT?-" Touya interrupts before the phone hangs up.

You set your phone down and release a breath of relief. You applauded yourself for not giving in so easily. One step of many.

Almost immediately after Tenko had hung on you, you received a text.

You rub your temples, mentally groaning. You could never escape. You realized, as you stood by the window debating whether or not you should open it for Touya, that two weeks prior, you were in the same position- sitting in between letting him in or shutting him out.

Maybe nothing had changed after all.

You open your window, letting the click of it unlatching give him permission to enter your apartment. For some reason, your hands were sweating. You haven't been alone in each other's presence for a casual hangout in almost a month now, and you weren't really sure how to be a normal person around him without the others to act as the buffer.

"Thank god." He steps in and immediately shuts the window behind him. "It's so fucking cold, I was debating on jumping."

The moment he turned around, his jaw dropped. "Your hair." He gasps, covering his mouth with a hand. "Holy shit."

You sheepishly smile at the sudden reaction. "What? Not a fan?"

"Not a fan?" He exclaims. "I thought I liked the long hair, but wow. Fuck."

He flops down on your couch, still looking at you in awe. "God, you're so pretty. I'm nervous now." He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

You roll your eyes, chucking a pillow at him. "Shut up or you'll scare off my date." You tease. "We're gonna finish up, but you stay here and be quiet, okay?"

His cheesing smile instantly drops. "You're fucking joking. Tell me you don't have someone in your bed right now."

"And what if I do?" You put a hand on your hip.

"Don't do that to me, Y/N." He pouts. "Kick them out pleaassee."

"You're such a baby." You sit down on the couch beside him. "I was kidding. No one's here. I just wanted Tenko to leave me alone, but clearly that didn't work out, huh?"

It was sadistic of you, but you did enjoy seeing him squirm at the thought of you spending your night with somebody else.

"Can't hate me for wanting a little distraction. You've just been avoiding me. Don't think I haven't noticed." He mutters.

"Avoiding you? That's a bit clingy of you, don't you think?" You joke.

You met his gaze to realize that he wasn't joking. At all. He had a pouty expression that only a child could master, and those bloodshot eyes were the equivalent to a poor puppy dog's.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked, suddenly taken aback. "What's wrong?"

"If I tell you something, promise you won't hate me?"

Your stomach drops. You didn't have a clue as to where this conversation could go next and couldn't figure out what that look on his face really meant. You had been playing your cards right, kept your distance, maintained your friendship, what more could there have been?

"What is it?"

A beat pass. His lips parted, but no words came out.

"I think I'm actually at a 7.8." He slowly says, gauging your incoming reaction. "Like, a strong 7.8." He murmurs.

A chuckle escaped your lips. That dramatic of an expression just to tell you that he was really fucking stoned made your heart swell a bit and a wave of relief come over you.

"It's fine, Touya. I promise." You wave off. "I'll always take care of you, it doesn't matter."

"Well, no it's not just that. I'm at a strong 7.8 and I have to tell you that I'm having a lot of feelings."

You stared at him for a second, digesting what he just said but not quite getting it.

"I don't think I'm following."

His cheeks puff in frustration. "I'm trying to say that I want to talk to you about... complicated stuff, but I'm stoned, so it's going to come out sounding stupid."

You nervously chuckle. "Don't you think you should talk to me about it when you're sober, then?"

You concluded that you definitely should have kept your window shut and left him on the fire escape- to jump or to freeze whichever came first. You were mentally cursing Tenko for your misfortune of having to deal with this with no preparation.

"Why would I do that when it's easier doing it like this?"

"Because last time someone did that, it ended up in flames. You remember that?" You press your lips together. "Do you want water or something? Some snacks? At least to sober up?" You stand up, starting your way to the kitchen.

"You're doing it again. Avoiding- or an even better word, deflecting." He hums.

"I'm not avoiding or deflecting, Touya. I'm making sure you're taken care of and even more important, don't say anything stupid." You come back with a glass of water and set it on the table in front of him.

"But I want to say something stupid."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because it's easy in this state and I don't care about the consequences. Duh." He deadpans. "Sweet girl, we are going in circles here. Just let me speak. It's not like I'm totally incoherent or anything. I mostly still have full function of my brain right now....unlike you when you had a silly little something to say." He shoots you a side eye.

You bite the inside of your cheek at the nickname you haven't heard in what felt like a lifetime ago. You take your seat beside him again in defeat.

"Fine. Say your 'silly little something' then."

"Like I was saying earlier, I'm having a lot of feelings." He begins, waving his arms as he speaks. "You following?"

"Mmhm."

"And I'm having these feelings because you've been avoiding me- don't even try to deny it either. We both know you've been avoiding me. Anyways, this probaabbllyyy..." He draws out "..started about a week or so ago, so I've had a week to sit on it, but one day I was like DAMN. This shit sucks! And then I asked myself Well, why does this shit suck so bad? and I came to the conclusion that I..... miss you."

You stared at him for a moment, watching him fiddling with his glass of water and rubbing his bloodshot eyes while he anxiously waited for your response.

"Touya, read the damn room." You roll your eyes. "Okay so if I have been avoiding you, you realize that the time away from you was very necessary for me? I literally confessed my feelings for you, and you told me you didn't feel the same way. Which is 100% fine, but what am I supposed to do? Pretend like everything's normal and go back to hanging out with you like nothing happened?"

"Don't hate me." He murmurs, following up the silence that fell between you two. "I know it's selfish, but it's been hard and confusing for me too."

"I could never hate you, but I really would like to mean it when I say I'm over you. Just give me some time, okay? And then we can hang out and be besties again and all that shit. It's not a big deal to not see me for a couple weeks." You take a sip of your own water cup.

"I don't think we're on the same page right now, Y/N." He mutters.

Another silence falls between you.

"I don't follow anymore. What do you mean, then?"

"I'm having a lot of feelings... about missing you. And us." He avoids your gaze, looking down at his hands.

Us.

"Us." You repeat. "Okay? Keep elaborating." You slowly say, fiddling with your own hands now.

"I know I don't have the right to say this after all that shit that happened, but for a long time, it felt like what we had going on was really good and then all of the sudden it's gone. I knew it was for the better, for both of us, but then after these weeks of not seeing you anymore, it's like I lost you completely and I miss you."

Your stomach simultaneously twists, drops, and threatens to climb up your throat. You didn't know if this sick feeling was coming from anger or the years of yearning coming back to the forefront of your mind.

You reach over, and hold his hands into yours. "Touya, I'm going to hold your hands when I tell you this, okay? And I tell you this because I hold you so close to my heart, and want to continue to do so, but yeah you don't have a fucking right to say all that shit." You huff. "You didn't lose me, because you never had me. You never had me, because you never wanted me. You didn't. I don't hate or blame you for it, but I can't change you. Do you understand?"

He slowly nods his head.

His expression fell into sadness. You weren't sure if it really clicked for him, or if he was fighting his own conflictions about your mess of a relationship, but you knew that above all, you had to protect your peace.

"But what if I can change myself?"

"Wow, you really did miss me, huh?" You tried to lighten up the thick air that had fallen in the room.

"Tell me what I can do, and I'll do it." He squeezes your hands, scooting himself closer to you where your knees were touching now. "I'll change."

Your eyes widened in shock. "Seriously, Touya. You don't have to change anything- you shouldn't. Like I said, the distance made things hard and weird for our friendship, but we'll be back to normal, just give it time."

"Maybe let's talk about this another time, okay? When you're not high." You smile, trying to deescalate the frustration between you two. "We can turn on a movie or something."

"No, Y/N. You're still not getting it... and deflecting." He sighs in frustration. "Your normal is not my normal. My normal is being able to touch you and kiss you and hold you close to me and tell you how fucking beautiful and great you are. I want you to fuck up my hair and paint my nails, call me a piece of shit, your sweet boy, all of it. Tell me what to do to get that, and I'll do it."

You almost pulled back in shock.

"Touya. Listen to me so carefully. You. Don't. Want. Me. Like. How. I. Want. You." You say slowly. "We are friends. Friends don't do all that. There is no world where we can do any of that anymore. How are you asking me to do all of those things with you, when you don't feel more for me? I can't do that to myself, and you know how it killed me."

"Y/N. I will get on my knees right now if you want me to." He begins. "Listen to me, I've slept in my own bed every single night since you left, I've left my window and door unlocked for you, I've been waiting for you for the past month. I know I can be so fucking stupid sometimes, and not know how to talk about my feelings or go about a relationship, but I only want you. Okay? Please. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to realize that, but this isn't like how it was before. I. Want. You."

Your jaw went slack. You realize that this whole conversation had been a poorly navigated confession. Touya wasn't telling you that he missed your weekly hook ups and late night snuggle sesh. He was confessing to you and you had no clue how to take it all in. You had spent weeks trying to get over him- you've just cut off all of your hair for the cause, just for him to sit here and tell you that he's been yearning after you for the past few weeks as you had for him since the beginning of your friendship.

"Please." He grips your hands tighter and brings it up to his mouth. "Please give me a chance to fix it. I'll prove it to you. It was never casual. You do deserve to hear it back. I'm the biggest fucking idiot on the planet to lose you. Tell me you still feel the same way." He mutters into your knuckles with a sense of desperation. "Please."

You took a sharp intake of air. Letting this conversation sit for a second. You debated on asking him to leave and give you a few days, but knowing that Tenko and Spinner were still in his apartment, you couldn't do that to him.

"So, this is you telling me you want to be with me." You finally asked. "You have feelings for me."

He nods his head. "More than that. I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine."

"And not in the way that we were before all this. You feel the same way I do? Like everything I told you on the fire escape a couple weeks ago."

He nods once more. "If you've felt this tightness in your chest as if something is going to rip open at the thought of me not being there anymore, then yeah. The same."

"God, you really had to be stoned to do this?"

"I also wish I had a bottle of tequila and a pack of cigarettes right now, but this will do." He smiled. "I do feel like i'm going to shit myself, I'm so sweaty, and the cotton mouth is insane right now, but I like you so much, I don't want to fuck this up."

He cautiously reaches his hand up to tenderly cup your cheek, swiping his thumb across your lips. He pulls your head into his, letting your foreheads rest against each other.

"You're a fucking idiot." You mutter against his thumb. "So, so stupid. This was a lot, Touya."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I guess we're even now though, huh?" He chuckles nervously. "Um, so yeah I am still shitting myself because you haven't given me a response, sooo...what do you say?"

"Say please one more time and maybe I'll consider taking your sorry ass back." You tease as a smirk grows on your face.

He drops his hand back to your own and leans back, taking in your whole view. A grin spreads ear to ear as a light blush brush on his cheeks. "You are absolutely wicked, my sweet girl. So breathtakingly evil and I am nothing more than a dust particle living in your world. Please. I will never deserve you, but let me be selfish anyways and want you. I want you more than anything. Please."

"God, you're so good at that." You couldn't help but laugh at this theatrical version of a confession. "I guess, if you want me that bad..."

"Can I kiss you?" He quietly asked, "Please."

You smiled, returning the small physical gesture by rubbing his knuckles with your thumbs. Your body was on fire and had been craving this physical contact with him for the past month, and you desperately wanted to just lunge into his skin and devour him whole to make up for lost time.

"No."

His smile falters into the saddest pout you've seen.

"I want you to take me out first. I want you to come to my front door with flowers and a cute outfit, I want dinner, an activity planned, I want you to properly ask me out, maybe grovel a bit more, and then if I say yes, you can kiss me."

He pulls your hands up to his mouth to kiss your knuckle. "That was so fucking hot. You got it, sweet thing. Anything, anything, anything. I'm yours."

tags: @whitneys-favorite-slut @lanxsee @bumblebeebutter @randomrosie01 @lillycore @rinheartshyunlix @yuwuuta @itawifeyy @0fffia @the2ndl @moonchild701 @oldspirit @misguidedswagger

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Cross The Line•

Summary: “And they were roommates” predictable self induldent Denki roommate content lmao. Friends to lovers, pretty fluffy

Pairing: Denki Kaminari x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Itty bitty angst, Lots o’ tension, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (female receiving), Quirk use during sex, Cumplay.

Word count: 6,984

A/N: Y'all I did it I wrote mostly plot are y'all proud of me for not being useless and horni for one fic. I mean it gets horni at the end but there is plot so yeehaw.

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“Son of a bitch!” You yell as you hurl the eyeliner across the bathroom, at your wits end after messing up for the third time. It hits the door with a sharp crack before it falls to the floor.

You kick the cabinet, successfully stubbing your toe in the process.

“Shit, shit shit shit.” You tumble backwards as you hop on one foot, planting your ass right on the toilet lid with a loud groan.

“You remodeling in here?” A chirpy voice says from the other side of the door.

“Fuck off, Denki.” You bark as you hold your busted toe.

He just chuckles as he opens the door and strides in, he leans back against the counter and crosses his arms while you scowl up at him.

His signature smirk is painted across his face, yellow hair sticking up in every direction. As usual, he’s going without a shirt, leaving him in just a pair of loose basketball shorts.

They hang just a little too low, exposing the waistband of his briefs, framing his defined adonis belt…

“You’re gonna need a bucket for all that drool.” He says, raising his eyebrows as his smirk grows into a smile.

“Oh please, I was noticing how scrawny you look.” You retort, letting your foot drop to the floor so you can stand.

“You got a date?” He nods at your dress, eyes lingering at the slit that exposes just a little too much thigh.

You and Denki are just roommates, that’s it. You’re also both incredibly horny, bisexual disasters. Naturally, there’s attraction, lingering stares, and moments of tension, but it never goes past that.

Just roommates. You can’t cross that line. Kirishima had introduced you two after meeting in class one day, convinced you would hit it off. You sure as hell did. You cliqued pretty much instantly, both full of chaotic dumbass energy.

Eventually, Kirishima moved in with his boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo. This left Denki with no roommate, which meant you got an invitation.

You were hesitant at first, moving in with somebody after a few months of friendship was a big step, but you and Denki just worked. Neither of you kept a schedule, you shared one brain cell, and you always made each other laugh.

So, of course you moved in. Two years later, it’s still you and Denki against the world. You take care of each other, he’ll bring you candy and a heating pad when you’re on your period, you’ll make him soup and play with his hair when he’s sick.

You’ve seen each other naked, heard each other have sex, and helped each other score hookups. You pick each other up when you’re sloppy drunk, and nurse each other through the hangover the next day.

You have not, and will not, cross the line of a sexual relationship with each other. You can’t afford to, neither of you can lose the movie nights, the screaming bad music in the car together, or the two in the morning waffle house runs.

“I did, but I’m not going.” You huff as you stomp over to the sink so you can wash off the makeup.

“I can’t get this stupid eyeliner right, I’ve tried like a million times and I can’t fucking do it.” You scrub your face a little too hard, turning your skin a bit red in the process.

“Want me to do it?” He asks, he says it like it’s obvious. It kind of is, the kid is wicked good at eyeliner, he does it nearly every day.

“If you pinky promise you won’t make me look stupid and sabotage my date.” You glare at him, hinting at a time when he did in fact sabotage a date.

“That was one time, which you thanked me for in the end, because the dude was a total fuckboy.” He holds up his hands in a defensive posture.

“You’re a total fuckboy, and you did not have to tell him I had fucking herpes.” You throw your wet rag at him, which he catches skillfully.

“I’m a whore, not a fuckboy. Big difference.” He says as he tosses the rag onto the side of the sink.

“What would that be?” You ask as you bend down to retrieve the eyeliner before handing it to him begrudgingly.

He accepts it with a grin, golden eyes lighting up as he pulls the cap off of the felt pen before giving it a good shake.

“Fuckboys are so selfish, they always leave someone wanting.” He shifts so he’s standing in front of you as you lean back against the counter.

He places one hand under your chin so you’ll tilt your face up for him.

“A whore keeps someone satisfied.” His voice drops slightly as he looks down at you.

You don’t look down at his lips, or his collar bones, or his abs…

“You’re such a flirt.” You say, crossing your arms, trying to put something between the two of you.

“Hell yeah I am, now close those eyes for me.” He winks and you roll your eyes before closing them.

His hand slides up from your chin so you can hold the side of your face, his thumb lifts your eyelid slightly.

The feeling of his hand touching your face so gently shouldn’t make your heart rate increase, the feeling of his breath on your face shouldn’t make your knees a little unsteady. Most of all, Denki being this close shouldn’t be making you this dizzy.

You’ve walked in on him jerking it, you’ve even walked in on him balls deep in somebody else. You and Denki are close, you’ve stood this close before, with less clothing, why does it all of a sudden feel so different? No, it doesn’t. It can’t.

You feel the felt tip of the eyeliner press into your eyelid, he moves so fluently. He flicks his wrist at the end of the line, he shifts and does the other eye with the same precision.

“Open.” You do as he says, blinking up at him, raising your eyebrows in question as he looks you over.

A pleased smile creeps onto his face.

“You’re real pretty, ya know?” He says softly, grabbing your chin gently so he can turn your face from one side to the other.

The compliment makes your cheeks grow warmer. Your eyes dart down as you shift on your feet a little bit.

“You’re a sap.” You grumble before turning to check his work in the mirror.

It’s perfect, just a delicate little wing that enhances your eye shape. Perfect for a first date, Denki has always been better at makeup, and it’s always driven you just a little insane.

“What else are you gonna do?” He asks, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You say as you grab your mascara and start applying it.

“Well are you gonna do anything with this?” He ruffles the top of your hair, you drop the mascara so you can bat his hand away.

“Dude, knock it off.” You say, you try to sound pissed, but start laughing when he wraps his arm around your neck so he can put you in a headlock.

“Only if you let me fix the rat’s nest on your head.” He laughs as you struggle to pull his arm off.

“I can do my own hair you sparky bastard.” You reach over and pinch his side.

He yelps and releases you from the hold, he raises his hands up and gives you a mischievous look.

“Oh, you want sparky?” Small snaps of electricity start to emit from his palms.

“Denki Kaminari, if you zap me I will suplex you.” You warn him, looking around for something you can grab to defend yourself with.

He’s much quicker than you though, and his arms around your waist in an instant. He hoists you up into the air and sits your ass on the counter. You feel the little shocks popping at your sides as he pushes you so your back is pressed against the mirror. Your senses are invaded by his warmth and the smell of Axe body spray, a smell you’ve grown to love.

“Denki, no! This shit always makes my hair all frizzy!” You protest as involuntary giggles leave your chest.

“Aw, sweetheart, are you sayin’ you can feel electricity between us?” He wiggles his eyebrows as his fingers stall.

“I will puke on you if you say any more cheesy shit.” You warn him, trying to keep your face straight, but you crack up at the melodramatic expression that crosses his face.

Then he delivers a particularly strong zap to the meat of your hip.

You don’t have time to control the way your body reacts. There’s no chance for you to keep your back arches, or the way you let out a fuck. The way you shiver is a little too intimate, your voice a little too broken. All of which Denki pays a little too much attention to.

You both settle and freeze, his sharp eyes meet yours. You’ve seen Denki Kaminari look serious a grand total of twice in the time you’ve known him. The first time was when you were ridiculously sick last winter, fever and chill with the works. The second time is now.

He watches you carefully, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Did that tickle?” He questions, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It- yeah- it also fucking hurt, asshole.” You grumble, pushing at his chest so you can hop off the counter.

You try to shove past him with your head down, desperate to get out from under the weighty tension in the bathroom. Denki grabs you around the wrist though, stopping you in your tracks.

Your eyes meet as another wave of nerves washes over your body.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” His voice is steady, but tentative.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice is just above a whisper.

Though, there certainly was.

You both stand there for a brief beat of thick silence, watching, waiting. You must imagine the way his lip twitches, the way his body shifts forward slightly…

No fucking way.

You turn on your heels and make your way out of the bathroom quickly.

You’re in your room with the door closed in no time. You lean against the back of it, catching the breath you didn’t realize you had lost.

What the hell was that? And why did it feel so… good?

No. Fuck no. Not with Denki.

You get ready in a huff, positively full of angst and confusion.

You shove it all down. It’s normal, right? To have a bit of tension with somebody you know so well, live so closely with, care for so deeply. You and Denki know each other. That’s all.

Your outfit isn’t much, but it’s enough for a first day. The colors are flattering against your complexion, the fabric clings in the right places. It’s nice, just nice.

You walk quietly from your room to the living room where Denki is sitting on the couch, legs spread wide with an arm across the back. Looking absolutely delicious- fuck- no not delicious. He just looks like Denki.

“That’s cute.” He says, he motions up and down with his phone, directing his comment at your outfit.

“Thanks.” You say a little too shortly, feeling the guilt immediately.

“I’ll be home later.” You say as you grab your keys from the dish.

“Be safe.” He calls after you.

Fuck.

***

Your date is an absolute disaster, nothing short of a trainwreck. It’s one of those dates that drains you. You politely nod as they ramble on about themselves, laugh at the bad and very insensitive jokes, and indulge in the small talk. Most of all, you miss Denki. You contribute very little, enjoy nothing, and wait for the end of the dreadful two hours you set aside for this.

You pay for dinner quickly, declining their offer for drinks, giving some bullshit excuse about having to work in the morning and being tired. You’re off tomorrow, and you’re wide awake.

You’re itching to get back to your apartment, dying to tell Denki all about your date’s wet cardboard personality. Hopefully, the bizarre moment you shared in the bathroom will be ignored and buried.

Never to be seen again.

You bust into the apartment, shuck off your bag and kick off your shoes. Denki is no longer on the couch, but at the kitchen table huddled over a cup of tea. The lights are all low or off, leaving him in mostly darkness. His posture is odd, slouched, defeated almost.

“Who died?” You try to joke, usually able to earn a chuckle with that line.

Denki doesn’t chuckle though, he sniffles.

“Sparky? What’s wrong?” You’re on him instantly, feet moving on their own.

Your hands are on the sides of his face, pulling up so he has to look at you. Your heart clenches and your chest burns as soon as the small amount of light catches his face.

His left cheek is painted with a deep red and purple bruise. His bright eyes search your face as you take the sight in, and you’re suddenly filled with fiery rage when you see how heartbroken he looks.

“Who the fuck-”

“It was my fault.” He cuts you off, grabbing your wrists so he can pull your hands off his face.

“Denki, what-”

“I told him we would hook up, so he thought we would. When I got there he had a bad vibe so I tried to leave… but he didn’t like that and he-”

You hush him when his breathing picks up, when you see tears well and his lip quiver.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok.” You pull him against your chest, making a mental note to find and throttle the bastard that did this.

But that can wait. You and Denki had both returned from dates fairly busted up. The bruises were always one that were wanted though, never like this. A bad date was always laughed over, never cried over. The very thought of somebody laying their hands on Denki like this… it makes your skin crawl, it makes you want to kill.

His arms are around your waist immediately, hands grabbing as your clothes, pulling you closer. You hold each other for a long while until you feel his leg start bouncing and his fingers start to twitch.

You pull back and look down at him. He looks so displaced, so frantic and caught off guard. He needs something to do. Something to focus on. You can tell he’s not ready to talk, but he’s ready to be distracted, talking will come later.

“Will you help me get this shit off my face?” You ask gently, sliding your hand through his hair.

He blinks hard before wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah- shit- I’m sorry, how was your date?” He asks, doing a shit job as pulling himself together.

“Don’t be sorry. It was awful. All they talked about was their college glory days.” You sigh, thumb running over his forehead.

“That didn’t win you? What’s wrong with you?” He asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

There he is, or at least he’s trying.

“I missed you the whole time.” It slips out, runs away from you. You mean it though, god do you mean it.

He looks up at you with that same uneasy, distraught look. It almost makes you buckle. You feel pulled to fall into his lap, wrap yourself around him and press sweet kisses into his neck. You can’t, you know you can’t. He would probably be pissed if you crossed that line.

He doesn’t answer, he just nods silently, eyes falling to the ground as he stands up.

“Let’s get that shit off your face.”

You end up perched on the counter again as he wipes your makeup off with a warm cloth. It may seem backwards, him taking care of you, to most people it is. During your time together, you’ve learned that Denki feels useless if he isn’t helping.

When something is hurting him, he’s healed by pouring into someone else, so you let him. You’ll ice his bruise later, bring him water and medicine once you help him scratch this itch.

He takes his time with you, wiping away the makeup he did for you. The dull ache returns to your chest as he works. The soft glow of the bathroom nightlight is your only illumination, giving the room a painfully intimate environment.

He slowly wipes the cloth across your forehead one last time, laying it on the sink before bringing his hand up to hold your chin like he had earlier. You can’t help but glance at his bruise and simply hurt deep inside. You hate that you weren’t there, that you couldn’t stop it.

He breathes for a moment, looking at the planes of your face, eyes lingering in your lips for a bit too long.

“Pretty…” It’s a soft confession, something far too tender for the nature of your relationship.

His admittance settles somewhere deep within you, it wraps itself around your heart and warms it. It’s almost overwhelming and definitely terrifying.

“Do you need to eat?” You kill the building flames immediately, stamp them out with a stubborn foot.

He doesn’t mean it, he’s just vulnerable, he’s just emotional. You’d be an asshole to give into it.

“I could eat.” He sighs.

***

“This is so fucking stupid.” Denki laughs, irritated by the default plot line of the chick flick on tv.

You had ordered your favorite takeout, too much of it, to share as you watch. Slowly, you had pulled him out of his shaken state. With plenty of talk about your awful date, several good laughs, and the occasional soft spoken “you’re okay”. Denki is now settled with his head in your lap as he criticizes the lazy drama of the film.

“Why won’t they just stop being stupid and just… like each other?” He whines, gesturing at the tv with an inpatient hand.

“Dude they can’t. It would ruin the tension for them to like each other right now.” You explain.

He sits up and huffs before grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“But they could work. They could really work.” He says as he stuffs his face.

He seems so genuinely thoughtful, despite his grievances with the quality of the movie, he’s involved.

“Maybe they could.” You say, watching him instead of the movie.

He feels it when he looks at you, squeezing his ribs, trickling down his spine. The overwhelming, almost blind urge to lean in and kiss you. But he can’t, so he doesn’t.

“Could they?” He whispers.

You’re both frozen, trapped in the beam that’s suddenly shining down on you. It exposes every crack and corner of your relationship, leaving you both ripped open and afraid.

He’s leaning in again like he did in the bathroom, closer and closer and closer… until he grabs his damn drink.

Fuck.

A blush spreads across your cheeks, stomach aching with embarrassment. You pull back, shoving yourself under a blanket. You weren’t too obvious, right? You didn’t lean in too much… right?

He takes a long sip then sets the drink down harshly, not enough to make you jump, but enough to make you pay attention.

“Can we stop, please?” He says as he stands up, he runs his hands through his hair and huffs before he starts to pace.

“What?” You ask, trying to sound as oblivious as possible.

“Dude.” He turns on you, looking exhausted, eyes begging you for something.

“Denki- I, you need sleep…” You stand up and start to tidy, not really doing anything though. Just picking up cups and setting them down to look busy.

“I don’t need sleep.” He snaps before grabbing you by the shoulders. His eyes are wild, frantic, searching.

“What do you need?” You ask, hands shaking at your sides. His body sags, hands releasing you so he can hug himself.

“I don’t know.” It’s short and rushed, and he leaves you no time to respond before he storms off to his bedroom. His feet stomp, the door slams, and you fall to the couch in a heap.

This cannot be happening, not to you and Denki. You both just need sleep, you just need to brush it off and start again tomorrow. He’s emotional. He’s just emotional.

You turn the TV off, sneering at the couple kissing on it. You clean up slowly, setting dishes in the sink to be done tomorrow.

It’s ok. You’re ok. Emotions run high after bad dates, after traumatic events. It’s human nature. That’s all, you and Denki will be ok, you always are.

Your shoulders draw up when you hear his door open again, staying busy at the sink as you heard him walk into the kitchen.

“Can we talk about it?” His voice is unsteady, it tugs on your heart as you spin to face him.

“Talk about wha-”

“Please. Don’t.” He sighs as he steps towards you.

He’s too damn pretty when he’s tired. His cheeks get all pink, with glassy eyes and a shiny nose. Even with his busted cheek bone, he’s so… pretty.

Denki’s feelings have always run hot, he loves fast and hurts deeply. You can’t even begin to imagine the tsunami of emotion he must have pounding against his chest. You see it in his eyes though, something is breaking him.

“We could work.” He closes the distance between you even more, giving you no room to hide once your backside hits the counter.

“Denki…” You put your hands on his chest, trying to put something between you two, trying to cling to the line that’s been drawn.

“We could. Just- you don’t have to answer. Just think about it.” And then he’s gone again, away to hide in his room. Leaving you shocked and overwhelmed.

We could work.

You could, and you know it, you’re just not ready to accept it.

***

Sleep doesn’t come well, or even at all. You do think about it, all night. It’s the only thing on your mind as you toss and turn and huff. The sun is already peaking up into the sky, bathing your room in a hazy glow.

We could work.

Just because you could, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be foolish of you to try. This is a friendship neither of you can afford to lose. You have some confidence that it could indeed withstand an awkward attempt at a relationship… but what if the attempt wasn’t awkward? Denki had told you, drunkenly, how much he loved you. He slept next to you when you cried, held you and talked you down. He knew how many sugars to put in your coffee and how you never bothered to match your socks.

Over time, Denki had memorized you as a person, and you had done the same for him. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to have in a partner? Someone who knows you, someone who makes it safe to be known.

Knock knock

It’s a courtesy knock, something he does to let you know he’s coming in. You never keep your door locked, and he’s always allowed in.

“Mornin’.” He says with a scratchy voice as he peaks into your room.

Fucking hell. Why does he have to be so pretty all the time?

“Mornin’.” You reply

You pull the blankets up around your chest, you realize now you’re in one of his t-shirts, not uncommon, but entirely too intimate given recent events.

He sits on the edge of your bed, all messy hair and puffy eyes. He offers you one of the coffee cups he’s holding, and it smells divine. You accept it as you sit up right, crossing your legs and clinging to your blankets.

His bruise is darker, yellow around the edges with deep red and purple splotches. It gives your chest the same tight feeling, something helpless and angry.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line.” He says quietly.

“You were right, I was emotional and I needed sleep and I definitely shouldn’t have dumped it on you.”

He fidgets while he talks, leg bouncing as his fingers dance around his mug. You reach out to rub his back, but he flinches. He fucking flinches.

Neither of you speak, but you meet each other’s eyes. He looks sorry, so sorry. He looks embarrassed and scared and guilty.

Slowly, you grab both cups and set them on your nightstand. You open your arms to him, still not speaking, not opening the door for him to apologise for something that isn’t his fault.

He falls into you easily, arms around your waist with his face against your neck. He crumbles there, unable to articulate, only able to cry. You hold him close, rub circles in his back and play with his hair. You let him go as long as he needs to, sitting with him, hurting with him.

“Denki?” You tread carefully, using your softest voice.

He looks up then, with a rosey face and searching eyes.

“You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

Something you’ve never seen before flashes in his eyes, something soft and warm, something that makes you want to fall forward into him like he just did with you.

You don’t, though, you stay still.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

Then, with all the caution and care in the world, he places a kiss on your forehead. It’s so simple, it’s been done a million times between the two of you, but it sits differently in your chest this time. It stays there, taking up space, spreading through you. That feeling of wanting to cross a line.

“Do you want to make breakfast?” He asks as he wipes at his face with his sleeves.

“Of course. You want those big ass waffles I make?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

His grin is slow to appear, but it does appear, and it’s as dazzling as always.

“I always want some big ass waffles.”

***

The rest of the day is spent in close proximity with each other, not unusual, but like everything else the past twenty four hours, it feels different.

You share you sit with knees touching while you eat your waffles, pee with the door open, he puts the toothpaste on your toothbrush for you. It’s all so normal for you two, but god it feels so different. It feels more important, it feels more… wholesome? Maybe? Not quite, that word isn’t entirely applicable. Neither you to Denki are wholesome in any capacity. Then a horrible thought scrambles into your mind.

It feels romantic. It feels domestic. It feels like a relationship.

It hits you while you’re helping him clean up the mess you’ve made cooking dinner. It’s in the way his hand ghosts over your waist when he slides behind you, the way he gets you more to eat without asking him to, the way makes you laugh so naturally.

Fuck.

You love him, you know this as a fact. You love him more than anyone, he knows you inside and out and you know him. You’re just now realizing in exactly what way you love him. He holds your hair when you puke, he rubs your back when you cramp, he pretends to be your boyfriend to scare off bad dates. He loves you too.

“Denki.” Your voice is quiet, your hands shake.

“Can we talk about it?”

His whole body tenses as he sets down the plate he was rinsing. He turns slowly, as if to avoid frightening you.

“Can we?” He asks gently, hopefully.

You step towards him, twisting your fingers around each other anxiously.

“This… works, doesn’t it?” You ask, awkwardly gesturing between the two of you.

He closes more of the distance, standing only inches from you.

“It does, and it could.” He says gently.

“What If it doesn’t?” You wonder out loud, fear creeping up your spine.

“Then it doesn’t.” He says simply.

“And we’ll be ok?”

“We’ll be ok.”

You stand in silence, keeping an eye on each other as you both process the information. He does that leaning thing again, like he wants to be closer. Then you panic.

“But it would be stupid.” You say as you turn away, wringing your hands around each other while you pace. He lets out a sigh and throws his hands up, exhausted with the back and forth.

“Right, because you and I would never do anything stupid.” His voice is rough, impatient, unfamiliar.

“We can’t afford to be stupid with this, dude. Can’t you see that?” You argue.

“Then we can be careful with it, we can start slow, we can ease into it.” He’s nearly begging, stepping towards you again.

“Ease into what!?” You turn on him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t play dumb.” He crosses his arms, you mirror him, both skittish, both afraid.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we won’t talk about it ever again. You have my word.” He offers, but he doesn’t want to.

You stand there, weighing your options, chest seizing as you watch his vibrant eyes search your face.

You can’t tell him you don’t want it. You can’t lie to him.

“I- Denki… I can’t lose you. We can’t fuck this up.” You feel tears prick at your eyes and a tightness in your throat, the very idea of being without your best friend makes you panic.

“You won’t fucking lose me. You have me, all of me. We won’t fuck this up if we just keep doing what we do.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but he breaks a little.

Another moment of heavy silence is spent between you, chests rising and falling rapidly, hands twitching as minds race.

Denying this any longer would be a crime, a horrible waste of time. Something snaps then, something gives in, and the line is crossed.

His hands are at the side of your face and his forehead falls against yours. Breath is hot, hands are needy, hearts are aching.

“Please, god, please.” You grab at his wrists, not to push him off, to pull him in, keep him close.

“I want you, need you, please.” You confess.

And then your soul is in flames. He shudders and his lips are on yours as soon as he can get them there. All at once, and not soon enough, the line you had both been clinging to is crossed. His hands hold your face so tightly as he works his lips against yours, kissing you with all he has left, letting loose all the times he’s wanted to before. It’s all consuming, it’s mind numbing, it’s (no pun intended) fucking electric.

He walks you back as he kisses you urgently until your ass hits the counter, his hands are on the backs of your thighs instantly. He whispers a quick jump against your lips. You do exactly that.

Now seated on the counter, you spread your legs so he can settle between them. He slides in perfectly, lips still hot and greedy against your own. His hands cling to your hips while yours claw at his back.

He breaks from you, panting with his pupils blown wide.

“Can we do something stupid?” He asks between puffs of air.

“Please, Denki, please.” You sigh, grabbing at his shirt. He grabs it by the collar and rips it off, revealing the body you’ve seen so often, but now you get to know it.

“I wanna taste your pussy.” He whispers before pressing his open mouth against your neck.

The words send a shock all the way down your body. The sparks fly and then settle between your legs where you feel his hard length pressing against your heat.

“Haven’t shaved.” You say, slightly embarrassed.

“Like I fucking care.” And then his hands are at your clothes, pulling them off and throwing them away until you’re left completely bare for him.

His skin feels like heaven against yours, warm and dewy and right.

“Gonna make you feel so good, fuck.” The last word is said with a tone of disbelief.

His hands slide up your sides, gathering your breasts so he can tease your nipples with his thumbs.

He smirks against your neck when you gasp and arch against him, pushing your bodies even closer together.

“Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” He taunts.

“You’re talking too much.” You let out a breathy laugh at his teasing before planting your hand on top of his head and pushing him down.

He gladly falls to his knees, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder like it’s life or death before finally looking at your soaked center.

“Oh my fucking god.” He sighs.

“I wanna tease you but holy hell, I gotta-” He’s on you before you can brace at all, his tongue licks along your slit slowly, almost reverently.

And then he moans. It’s something whiney, something achey, escaping from the back of his throat.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t pull away, he finds the spot that makes you jump and sets up camp. He kitten licks your clit until your hands are pulling at his hair as you gasp above him.

It’s all so much, it’s all so good. Especially when he finally presses two fingers into you. He steps a gentle pace, a soothing push and pull that feels incredible. He works and works and works until your thighs are trembling and you’re babbling praises.

“Denki- fuck- there, right there, fuck fuck fuck.” He eats you so sweetly, with so much precision.

You almost anticipated him being more reckless, more sloppy. He isn’t though, he takes his time, learning your sweet spots, finding the angle that makes you crumble.

And he does.

You reach your end when he flattens his tongue and curls his fingers, massaging every part of you. His name falls from your lips in a broken cry, hands tug at his hair as your thighs squeeze his head.

He helps you through it, licking and fingering slowly to ease you back down, letting you feel every last nerve erupt in pleasure.

“Fuck that was perfect, you’re so fucking sweet.” He sighs against you.

You don’t answer, you can’t, you just grab at him until he gets the hint to stand up.

“Need you inside me, please, Denki please.”

“That’s funny.” He says thoughtfully, pulling down his sweats and briefs to reveal his very hard, very pretty dick.

“What?” You ask, breathless as he steps between your legs. He grabs at his length and gives it a few lazy strokes before pressing his head up against your cunt. The action makes you shiver and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Didn’t think you were one to beg.” He says with a trembling voice, body buzzing with anticipation.

Then he presses in, replacing any smart remark you may have had with a gasp. It’s definitely a stretch, but god it’s incredible. He fills you so well, presses all of the right spots as he slides in.

“Denki- shit.” Your head falls back against the cabinet, your brain turns to mush as you try to fully comprehend how you ended up here, most of all how you went so long without this.

“So fucking tight.” He pants as he bottoms out, his praise makes you clench, which in turn makes his head fall back with a sweet little gasp.

He pulls in a sharp breath through his teeth, his top lip pulls up almost like he’s in pain. You know he isn’t though, he’s just savoring it.

With a frantic hand, you reach up and grab at the hair at the nape of his neck. You pull him back down against you, both moaning into the kiss when he moves his hips back slowly.

Your lips are messy against each other, bodies working together, finally colliding the way they’re meant to. He keeps his hips moving, setting a perfect, smooth pace. His hands settle on your hips as your stay in his hair.

You’re more vocal than usual, moaning out little praises, needing more and begging for it.

“You feel so good, don’t stop, baby- feels so fucking good.” Your lips quiver as you speak, making you sound so weak and needy. That mixed with the affectionate name does something to Denki, something that names him break a little more.

He buries his face into your neck, whispering a harsh fuck that sounds strangled and desperate. His thrusts get a little faster, his hands grab you a little tighter, and all you feel is Denki.

Your whole body buzzes, in your fingertips, the backs of your thighs, you feel him everywhere.

You don’t even consider the mess that you’ll make on the counter, don’t mind the bruises he’ll leave on your hips, it’s all worth it. So fucking worth it.

“Look at me, look at me when I make you cum.” One of his hands comes up to hold your face as he speaks frantically.

His words set off a cloud of butterflies in your stomach, every sensation building, becoming more intense. You nod pitifully as you lean into his hand, chasing your high with each of his deep, filling thrusts.

The feeling of his hand on your hip reminds you of the last time he had you sitting on a counter like this. You remember how he shocked you, how it went straight to your cunt, how much you loved the feeling.

Body jolting with each thrust, your hand falls over his on your hip. You give him one look, and his eyebrows shoot sky high.

“Yeah? You want me to shock you?” His voice climbs as he speaks, so high and pretty and needy.

“Yes, fuck yes, please, Denki.” You plead, you’re so damn close, you just need that final push.

He doesn’t waste any time. As soon as you ask so sweetly, his palm starts to spark, biting at your skin. You cry out and throw your head forward, the electricity drives you up a wall, absolutely hooked on the sensation.

“That’s it, cum nice and hard for me sweetheart.” His other hand moves down to thumb at your clit and that’s all it takes.

“I’m gonna- ohmyfuckinggod- Denki! Shit!” You sob against his skin as he zaps you just a little more. It makes you delirious, you shiver and jolt as your hands claw down his back.

He fucks you through it, moans and praises fall from his lips as you crest. Your walls quiver around him, almost finishing him off too. Somehow, he keeps it together, he holds his pace until he’s sure you’re on your way back down.

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” He coos as his thrust become more shallow, “Oh fuck.”

He pulls out and jacks himself off only a few times before he’s spilling onto your thigh, painting the skin hot white ropes.

Your hand darts down to gather his release on your fingers before bringing it to your lips. You make a show of licking it up, popping your fingers from your mouth as your eyes flutter shut.

“Oh you dirty fuckin’ girl.” He muses, he gathers the rest up with his thumb so he can press it into your mouth.

You swirl your tongue around his thumb, looking up at him with a doe eyed expression.

You never dreamed you two would ever end up here, feeling and tasting each other in the filthiest of ways, but god it feels so right.

You stay there for just a moment, clinging to the high and each other, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As your breathing steadies, his hands are placed gently around your waist, thumbs playing at the bottom of your ribs.

You share a moment of silence, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Wanna talk about it?” Denki asks, a smile playing at his lips. You let out a breathy laugh, head falling forward so you can lean your forehead against his collar bone.

You start to press soft kisses across his chest, he hand slides to play with the hair at the back of your head.

“I don’t think we have to.” You kiss up his chest until you’re looking up at him.

“This works, doesn’t it?” He asks fondly, looking as stunning as ever, bruise and all.

“This works.” You confirm.

With that, he ducks down suddenly, arms sliding around you so he can throw you over his shoulder.

“Denki! What the hell?” You laugh, pounding at his back playfully.

“If we aren’t talkin’ we’re fuckin’. This isn’t a one and done deal baby.” He says as you round the corner to your bedroom, he throws you on the bed so you land with a bounce and a giggle.

“I hope you don’t have plans for the next six hours.” He falls into you, kissing all over your neck and collarbones.

“Hey.” You say quietly.

“Hmm.” He responds between kisses.

“I love you, sparky.”

He pauses, looking up at you with his luminant eyes.

“I know.” His face splits into a teasing grin.

You punch his shoulder, pouting dramatically.

He inches up the bed, caging you with his arms so he can cradle your head with his hands. He looks at you thoughtfully for just a moment before leaning down to kiss you.

It’s gentle and careful this time, slow and thought out. It makes you absolutely melt.

“I love you too.” He whispers against your lips.

It does work, it works beautifully. It was a slow and not so steady road, but you two knuckleheads did it. You crossed that damn line.

[bffsoobin]

This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow. 

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile. 

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you. 

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner. 

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest. 

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you. 

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage. 

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door. 

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own. 

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch. 

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were? 

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow. 

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question. 

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger. 

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated. 

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away. 

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest. 

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance. 

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you. 

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh. 

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle. 

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely. 

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back. 

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.” 

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you. 

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep. 

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class. 

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake. 

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another. 

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger. 

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in. 

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said. 

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying. 

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television. 

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion. 

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”. 

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it. 

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay. 

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-” 

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.” 

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!” 

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.” 

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka. 

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut. 

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect. 

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.  

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours. 

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway. 

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.  

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s. 

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with. 

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to. 

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall.  “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall. 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic. 

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get. 

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them. 

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet. 

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.” 

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better. 

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you. 

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side. 

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument. 

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair. 

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms. 

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top. 

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun. 

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts,  and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow. 

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears. 

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you. 

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin. 

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night. 

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder. 

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality. 

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone. 

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you. 

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it. 

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice. 

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.” 

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.” 

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.” 

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you. 

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins. 

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come. 

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt. 

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down. 

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it. 

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him. 

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.

[iacon-stargazer]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE: MUN & MUSE

fill out & repost ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multimuses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

tagged by: stolen from @oneshallfall like.... months ago. im a slow gremlin hjksd. it's been in my drafts and i finally decided to finish the last few sections while working on clearing them out

tagging: steal it

MY MUSE IS.   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless

is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  Well.../ NO / IDK. (i know optimus is but i don’t really... know about orion? i have seen a handful of fanartists who turn him into a very sexualized moe baby but i’m not sure about the fandom at large)

is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

are they underrated?  YES / NO. (lmao there’s like no fan content with him unless it’s with megatronus) 

were they relevant to the main story?  YES / NO.

were they relevant to the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO. (not yet.... lol)

how’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?

This... this is a trick question in this goddamn mess of a continuity. That said, I try my absolute best to make my portrayal coherent with the TFP show... even if said show contradicts itself at times. I take inspiration from the earlier parts (the thirteen primes section) of the Covenant of Primus for his origin backstory, but ignore the rest of the Covenant since it makes absolutely no sense with his characterization in... literally anything else. I’ve peeked at Exodus and it utterly sucks, but I’ve picked up bits and pieces of concepts that originated there just from spending time in the fandom. Aside from that... I spend a ton of time thinking about how to weave everything together in a way that both makes sense and makes for a character development arc.

SELL YOUR MUSE! (aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.)

Orion is genuinely kind, thoughtful, and introspective, very loving of the world around him.

He’s also a more complex character than is initially obvious - despite mostly being good sweet pure baby nerd he’s still flawed, with many of those flaws being his strengths put into the wrong situation. His strong morals can lead to dogmatism, and he’s only slightly less likely to deliver lectures than Optimus. His determination to be kind and help everyone can come off as unintentionally patronizing at times; he has a very “well-intentioned semi-privileged middle class” perspective that he’s not always self-aware of. However, he’s also willing to look at himself critically and learn/adapt. 

Essentially, he has many of the same traits as Optimus... just more or less apparent and/or developed. He's less confident than he eventually becomes through his future experience with leadership, wanting to change the world for the better but sometimes struggling to ground his plans in reality—something that continues to apply, but with reduced intensity and frequency over time. Idealistic cinnamon roll will eventually develop some realism, though never really quite enough. His selflessness remains a strength for now, but we know that eventually it will dip into martyristic tendencies.

NOW THE OPPOSITE! (list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?)

He could be potentially ‘boring’ in some senses. he’s the polite, considerate ‘next door’ type, who has for most of his life has just lived as a very average middle caste nobody. He’s more laid-back than he eventually becomes as optimus, but where others might get into trouble and shenanigans he’s most likely to just express concern. And since I try to keep him at least mostly ic, even with non-serious posts, this can derail ‘fun’ stuff and I fear dissuade some interaction.

While I try my best to give him realistic flaws that work with his character, he could still be seen as a little too good. very kind, understanding, forgiving, patient, considerate... almost endlessly so. A lot of my “he’s so good and pure” interpretation comes from using his having been the thirteenth prime as backstory, where he was pretty much the epitome of that, but some might not like the “he was a literal deity in a past life” idea for its “super special chosen one protagonist” elements.

His responsiveness to his environment can also be a downside. He’s not the type to start things; he just reacts and responds, standing his ground and finding himself when things get crazy around him. without megatronus, he may have eventually attempted political campaigning, but it wouldn’t have gotten very far. He needs to have more intense characters or events around him for major plots to really go places. Without those nothing would ever happen besides slice of life fluff, because he’s content with that kind of life.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?  

Honestly I just wanted to write op/ratch fhsjkdjsdh. But I also wanted to be able to interact with a variety of muses and so I chose Orion over Optimus because he’s not so emotionally closed off, which I figured would give more flexibility beyond the handful of characters op would reasonably have close personal and/or plot-important relationships with. Also, I can relate to him on a thought-process level which lets me get into his head easily, which additionally made him an appealing choice for my first real rp muse.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?  

I just love him so much, especially with the layers of his character I've built up around him. I don't always have inspiration to write or rp, but I think about him a lot. When I do find motivation to write, it's generally out of wanting to continue to work on developing him and just having a chance to express his characterization.

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO.

do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.  (i should do it more...)

do you think a lot about your muse during the day? YES / NO.

are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO. (at least most days fhsdhfskj)

are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. (it waxes and wanes. I know I'm a good writer but I could still be better...)

are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO.

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?

I’ll be honest; I’ve never gotten criticism. I haven’t been here very long in comparison to some and I’ve never been that popular, so I figure I’m pretty easy to just ignore. I guess how I would feel about it would depend on what it was and how it was delivered, though I like to think I would be reasonable regardless

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?  

yes? yes absolutely?

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?  

I would be curious to hear their reasoning, but I think enough about how everything fits together that chances are I would agree to disagree

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?

Depends on if their disagreement makes sense. Maybe I’ll give back my own reasoning for why I characterize the way I do. Maybe I’ll just agree to disagree, if their view is just totally different from mine. If they have valid points I’ll probably overthink it and spiral into self doubt. In all cases I’ll spill my thoughts to friends on discord.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?

......Orion in general or? ... fhsjkdhf...... Well if it was mine specifically that might hurt lol. But at the same time.... I doubt i’d agree with their takes either so... fair enough.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?  

Sure. I’m good at grammar so if something glaring is there it’s probably a typo I missed and I’ll be grateful for the chance to edit it out before more people see it lol

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?  

Yeah. I’m pretty quiet most of the time because I just don’t have energy to talk to a lot of people, and I never want to get caught in drama. I honestly wouldn’t know what to do in a situation like that. I tend to avoid conflict, I’m quick to apologize, and polite with anyone I don’t know very well.

[purplesurveys]

731

Do you get allergies in the spring? No, I don’t have any allergies nor do we have spring. What is your biggest pet peeve? I have a number of ~big pet peeves but one I can think of in particular right now are people who are constantly late to everywhere they have to be. That, and unresponsive groupmates when it comes to schoolwork. What is one thing you want to do before you die? See Beyoncé in concert. She’s my only favorite artist left that I haven’t seen put on a show yet. What is your favorite primary color? Blue. What movie, that is currently in theaters, do you want to watch? I haven’t been outside in weeks but I’m pretty sure there aren’t any operating cinemas at the moment.

Who do you look up to? Out of all the people I know, Andrew. He’s been through some tough waves, but it’s never destroyed his soul and he’s never used it as an excuse to be cruel to everyone. I have a lot of love and respect for him. What is your favorite brand of bottled water? As much as possible I avoid bottled water but if it’s the only available option, I tend to look for Summit because it tastes the purest out of the cheaper brands I know. Are you a healthy person? I honestly don’t know if I’m constantly well because I live healthily without being aware of it or because my immune system is just simply crazy defensive. I guess I can call myself healthy in a sense that I rarely get ill and I’ve never had any serious health issues; but I'm not healthy in that I maintain a certain diet or go to the gym. If you were to write a story, what would it be about? I’d write a biography on someone because it combines two of my interests – journalism and non-fiction. What color is your toothbrush? It’s maroon with some white accents on it. What is your favorite movie about? Two for the Road is about a couple who re-examines their many years as a married couple, with the film using their road trips and various cars to symbolize the different stages in their relationship. Good Will Hunting is a story of a young man who has had a very difficult life and eventually has to confront his past and himself in order to move on to his future. I guess I really like movies with introspective characters. Do your fingernails grow fast? They kinda do, yeah. When was the last time you got out of your home? March 10th. Have you ever played with fire? No, I’m scared of fire. Do you like poptarts? Only one flavor, chocolate fudge. I’m sure I would like more if I got to try more flavors, but they only ship like 5 flavors to the Philippines – strawberry (which I’ll obviously never like), cookies and cream (too sweet), s’mores (also too sweet), brown sugar cinnamon (boring), and chocolate fudge. What’s a distinct memory you remember from your childhood? I remember playing the Wii for hours on the first day our dad bought one for us and going to school the next day feeling completely sore.   Is marriage in your future? Yes. Do you like color pencils or crayons better? I love both but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to enjoy colored pencils more. Have you ever played Badminton? Yes, I owned a set before and I’d ask the househelp to play with me outside our house when I was younger. Do you like to wear plain clothing or creative, colorful clothing? Plain clothing but in various colors. I refuse to wear anything printed (at least in most cases cause I do own a few printed pieces, like a jumpsuit that I own). What is your favorite thing about each season? I like our dry season because then I get to wear all the tank tops, tiny halter tops, sleeveless tops, and shorts that I want, and I feel prettiest in those clothes. I like the wet season obviously for the rain and thunderstorms, which is my favorite kind of weather. Would you ever consider running for president? No, I’m insanely incapable. What color is the sky right now? I don’t feel like looking out but it’s midnight so it’s likely to be a very dark blue. What is your all-time favorite day of the year? Whenever Wrestlemania is on a certain year. Is March one of your favorite seasons? Idk about seasons but it’s not really a remarkable month for me. February is typically a very hectic month what with Valentine’s Day, mine and Gabie’s anniversary, and my org’s traditional month-long anniversary celebration, so March is actually that time where we finally get to heave a contented sigh and sit back after working and spending so hard and so much. Did you know that the flu is an infection of the respiratory tract? I don’t feel like fact-checking rn but one thing’s for sure, I’ve definitely been hearing these words in the news more these days lmao. Do you enjoy star-gazing? Cloud-watching? I like to stargaze. Cloudwatching not so much. Do you write little reminders to yourself? Only if I desperately need to be reminded, sure. Describe to me the happiest day of your life. I don’t think I’ve had it yet, but the one that’s the throne right now is the day I saw Paramore in 2018. Would you want a pet iguana? I wouldn’t know how to care for it properly so I’d rather give the chance to someone who does. Are you afraid of spiders? We have tiny spiders here so not really. They’re easy to shoo away. What website do you visit most often? Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, Reddit, Tumblr. In that order. Exactly how many days have you been alive? According to Google, 8,041. What do you do on rainy days? It varies but I like taking a nap, fixing myself a cup of coffee, watching a video or a show to relax, or listening to music that would pair well with the rain. What color is your bedroom floor? Brown, as is the entire floor for the second floor. Are you an organized person? In some contexts. I like making spreadsheets and cleaning up our plates and utensils to help out our server when we’re done eating at a restaurant; but I also can’t keep the inside of my car clean to save my life. Do you use corny pick-up lines? No. How thick is your hair? Very thick. I already touched on this on a previous survey but my hair is difficult to handle, especially if someone’s planning a hairdo on me that needs a lot of bobby pins. What do you look like in the morning? Messy, and more recently my bangs have gotten so long that they cover my eyes now which makes for a shaggier/lazier look most mornings. Are you allergic to anything? What? Nope. Who is your favorite person? My girlfriend. How did you spend your last birthday? We had cheesecake and in the afternoon, Angela surprised me by having a box of sushi delivered to my house. Otherwise, we stayed home. Do you like chapstick? I don’t need to use it, so I don’t really have an opinion. If you were the last person on earth, what would you do? Break into Forbes Park and go inside all the houses lol. Do you know how to knit/crochet? Nope. Do you enjoy windy days? Sure, I like them. When was the last time you went to an amusement park? I don’t remember when our trip to Singapore was but it was either 2012 or 2013.

[fayn3ko]

5 things that make Rammstein special?

I believe a lot of ppl already discussed this, but I would like to include some of my own thoughts of course 👀

1. These 6 men. Everything about them: How they still remain together, how everyone brings in his own ideas about songs, Mvs and so on (which is everything but easy) and how these 6 have done anything together - and whatever they wanted, literally. They seem like a family, even way closer. If just one would miss, it wouldn’t be Rammstein anymore. You can see it on and outside of the stage, you eventually get this when you discover this band.

2. Till’s voice - obviously. But, even though he couldn’t sing at all at the begin (it sounded terrible, e.g. Bizarre Festival ‘96 lmao) he could just deliver the emotions. I like to compare it with expressionism - it’s not important how it is drawn or what you see, it matters what you feel when you see it. And he just has a great voice, deep, great sound and good speaking. 10/10

3. Their content is such 👏 high quality. I mean, of course their start wasn’t the same level as now, but they knew from the start how to do it and how to present everything. The harsh, cool atmosphere around them with all the leather, metal/rust and the pyro/fire. It slaps and people love it. They seem already ‘dangerous’ and that attracts. The musicvideos are, nearly all, really professional and unique. I don’t wanna talk now much about their merch and their CDs but they know what suits their name.

4. Let’s be real, they’re german and for everyone else who doesn’t have to do with germans it’s something interesting, for some maybe even exotic. Even if you don’t understand the lyrics, as long as it sounds good. With this their image of the (tall) serious, peculiar german men comes along, though we know they’re all also such dorks (and that’s the best). 🔥

5. Mhmm the topics. Looking quickly through the lyrics translation (or understanding german) shows what kind of topics they use in their songs and I love it. Really interesting, and they aren’t ashamed to use a lot of taboo topics - Till said it’s not as many as we always say but anyway. The “normal” songs are also great, they can be really beautiful, sad or funky. It’s a colorful song palette.

5.1 The pyro yes, yes, I know. But It’s literally what everyone likes about rammstein and bla so I didnt want to mention it though it obviously contributes to their fame lmao

[panticwritten]

In-Between Collection #2 Scene 2

A Summons

Table of contents!

All of my writing!

What are the In-Between Collections?

This one happened sometime in the nebulous space that I was kind of pretending the Breaking Furnace daydream wasn’t happening lmao. I think it would have been around chapter 4.

Also, I’m gonna be 20 in two weeks, what is real life

Word count: 1241

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The Original June 22nd 2016

In less than a month in the real world, I’ve progressed years in the new Gravity Falls universe. I haven’t been able to find more than traces of Bill. I’m starting to think I might have to summon him to get him to show his face.

That’s a little hard to swing when I’m trying to convince Stanford not to drop out of Backupsmore. He’s so close to finishing his thesis, the whole thing will be ruined if he doesn’t get through it.

We need funding in Gravity Falls, after all. It’s hard enough to explain where I get my money as it is, but if I could suddenly fund our research it would bring up questions I can’t answer. I doubt it would go over well that I work for an organization that hired me to fuck with his life.

I kneel down to gather another armful of fallen debris. I might be able to get by with checks from the Scouts in the new universe, but I have to actually work in the real world. Preparing firebreaks is mind-numbing enough for me to be able to talk to Kane at the same time, however.

“I still don’t think you had to start so early.”

He keeps pace with me on my back and forth between the tree line and our brush piles. I don’t look at him. I’m not sure how long we’ve been working today. I’m starting to get a headache, and I’m not sure if it’s from the work itself or Kane’s voice.

“I knew he would get closed off later. The only other people he talks to without prompting are his parents and Fiddleford.” I clench my jaw and resist the temptation to fall back into the universe, back into the argument with Stanford. “These days I’m more of a sounding board than an actual person, I think.”

“Genuine affection?” Kane appears in front of me, head inclined. “That’s dangerous.”

I walk right through him.

“I don’t know how much about him I’ve changed just by being there,” I go on as if he never spoke. “But I would never be able to get close enough if I waited much longer.”

“Have you found your contact yet?”

I shake my head, just a little, even in the real world.

“I think he’s tipped his hat at me in the few chances I’ve had to sneak away to Gravity Falls, but—” I stop with a grunt, knelt down to tug a branch back into the road. “—I might have to risk opening my mind to him if I want him to talk to me.”

He makes a thoughtful sound, and I finally take the bait to step back into my full dreamscape. I keep half a mind on my job, but the two of us land back in the Cube to talk. I turn on my heel to face him.

“About time.”

He lounges against the wall with a thick envelope held out in offering. It doesn’t look like a job card, but he doesn’t have any other business to be bothering me with. I make no move to take it, so he holds it up to inspect it under the light.

“I don’t know the last time I had to deliver a summons.” He gives me a side-eye. “Especially to an F-Class Scout.”

I glower and hold a hand out for the envelope. He surprises me by actually handing it over.

“And where am I being summoned to?” I ask while I break the wax sealing it shut.

“The council.”

I pause with the thick paper halfway out of its sheath. I stare down at my hands with the momentary expectation for it to attack.

But, no, it’s just paper. A normal envelope carrying a letter on the kind of stationary I wish I could afford. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect to receive from an Ivy League college or a government official. It’s certainly fancier than the scrolls I normally send notes around the Cube in.

I’ve always gotten the feeling that the council hated me. I’ve only heard whispers, rumors of threats, from the group. I’ve met only one of the members, though I’m almost certain he’s not a good indication of what the council is like.

They’re the ones that hold our lists. They keep track of who they can use as leverage against individual Scouts. They watch us and decide what requires punishment in the form of making those lists shorter.

I manage to only hesitate a few seconds before diving in and reading the letter. It’s a full sheet of paper, but it only bears five words typed neatly in the center.

‘Come at your earliest convenience.’

I fold the paper and shove it back into the envelope. I look back to Kane, who watches me with narrowed eyes.

I won’t let him see that I’m nervous.

I won’t let him see anything.

“Take me to them.”

~-S-~

I try to avoid actually going to the Scouts’ main headquarters. Base. Lair. Whatever. It’s busy, everyone recognizes me, and I don’t like it. I want to keep my work with the Scouts and my identity in the Cube as separate as possible. I’m starting to think that won’t be possible.

I force myself not to look at anyone, at anything. I only take in a vague impression of gray in the halls, the rumble of voices only presenting as a low hum. A few faces jump out at me as more familiar than others, members of The Collective and others I wasn’t aware of being part of the clan.

If they try to talk to me, it doesn’t register.

I focus on Kane instead.

I thought he would lead and expect me to follow. He doesn’t. He walks barely a half-step ahead of me, so I have to watch him out of the corner of my eye. I’ve never seen a trainee walk beside their supervisor.

Then again, Kane hasn’t exactly been treating me like a trainee lately. All of it’s off, ever so slightly. I wouldn’t notice if I didn’t know him so well.

The smile, missing its mocking edge. His stride straight and clipped instead of fluid. Where’s the joke he always seems to be telling just by being present?

He’s normally so difficult to work with. I have to jump through hoops to get an answer. He twists and flips a problem until I come to the conclusion he wants me to, making it sound like it’s my idea. Distracts me when I’m trying to do my job or focus on the real world.

I didn’t have to convince him to hand over the summons.

I think back on it, to when he first offered me my job back. He was his normal self then. He stayed that way until I accepted it. Until I finished training. Until I started the job in Gravity Falls.

No.

He dropped it once. It was the second time I’d ever seen him let go of the persona. When he came to tell me about the new member of The Collective in the Breaking Furnace universe, he was serious.

Almost kind.

Since then, we’ve almost been on the same foot. He only hovers as much as the rules say he has to. He follows me on jobs, reminds me of deadlines, the bare minimum. Other than that, he stays out of my way with just a touch of snark.

“Here we are.”

His voice doesn’t reflect the change at all. Light, a laugh hidden beneath the words. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he stops in front of a wide door, though.

I reach for the door, but he grabs my arm. I freeze.

The last time he physically stopped me from doing something, I almost got myself killed. He would have been fine, he’s made of cement. I would have been fine eventually, would have woken up good as new. No one wants to die, though.

It stuck with me, I guess.

“Be careful,” he mutters. “They don’t take well to clever kids.”

He doesn’t let go right away, and that’s probably a good thing. I can’t move, though the desire to flee sears my blood. I shouldn’t have come. It would have been better to take my chances and ignore the council.

The thought flickers and dies when Kane releases me. He opens the door so I don’t have much choice but to walk in.

The door clicks shut behind me to leave me walking down a plush hall on my own. I have to squint in the low light, but there isn’t much to see. A crimson carpet and bare cream walls leading up to a door set at the end of the passage, that’s it.

Dark, warm, red. I hate the cliche of walking down a lion’s throat, but come on. Such a straight, plain hall leaves no room for surprises. It also gives me nowhere to hide if I lose my nerve.

But nothing happens. Nothing peels from the walls on the attack. No shadows move. The big, bad, tongue of a floor doesn’t constrict and drag me into the depths. I reach the luxurious door wound like a spring, but otherwise unharmed.

The room it spits me out in leaves me blind and uneasy. I pause when the door closes, frozen in place. My ears strain, panic pushing me to survey what I can how I can. I’m too aware of everything I’ve heard of the council to push down the fear clawing up my throat.

To believe the silence.

Families going missing. Friends put in the hospital. Children recruited. Punishments, all of it, against disobedient workers. Why would they call me here? If I did something wrong, why would they call for me instead of striking a name?

It occurs to me that I may have been looking at this wrong.

How many lists am I on?

I heard D joined the Scouts just days after I took Kane’s job offer. Half the Cube must be on his with how many strays he picks up. Then there’s the members of The Collective I saw on the way in. Haz, Jezebeth, who knows how many others? Is it too much to hope that they don’t care enough for me to be on theirs’?

I’m not the most rebellious out of us all. If Haz ignores an order or Jezebeth mouths off, could I be a target? If D refuses to hurt someone? If Gray’s out there, she vanishes at the drop of a hat. If it’s decided she needs incentive to stay here, am I on her list?

I know I could take out the council if I wanted to. I could level the entire base, leave a hole in the Cube so deep nothing could crawl out of it. It could be over, the lists and the jobs and the orders.

But I can’t—more accurately, I won’t.

I’ve been hasty before and had it come back to bite me. Destroyed Tchaikovsky’s original compound not long after I left, ended up with the man himself on my doorstep because I convinced myself he was gone.

If that happens with the Scouts, worse will happen than a single nightmare haunting me. I’ve made death too temporary here. No matter what I want, they would come back.

No.

I have to find out what they want like a good little soldier.

I take a miraculously steady breath and unclench my hands. I didn’t realize I’d curled them in so tight. I focus on the sting and imagine the half-moon impressions on my palm when I step out into the dark.

I don’t know if they’ve been watching me—I’m not sure if they could, it’s so dark—but a light flicks on before I take more than a few steps. Before my bearings can become more mixed up than they already are. Before I can trip up the stairs to the raised platform illuminated in the spotlight just in front of me.

I manage not to hesitate to climb onto the circular platform and settle in the center. The dramatics of the whole thing make it feel so staged it’s almost easy to pretend it’s all for show.

Just another performance.

I can do that.

I hold my head high to slide my gaze over the seven figures seated above me. I work to keep myself from showing even a flicker of the defiance or fear I feel, but I know better than to think I fully succeed. I’ve faced worse than the council, but I’ve cracked at less.

I probably should have put on my uniform before coming here, though I haven’t touched it once since receiving it. It might make me seem more conforming. Less like I’m spitting in their face just by existing.

At first glance the council members appear identical. Their white hoods block what little of the light focused on me hitting them, fabric masks cover what the hood doesn’t. Unlike the standard Scout uniform, aside from the arrogance of being white while the rest of us need the black uniforms to keep from being seen, their sleeves cover their arms, snug against the seams of their shorter gloves.

The longer I stand here in silence, though, the more I see.

The hood of the second to the right bulges, the telltale sign of horns or too much hair hidden underneath. Their mirror has a snout, their mask fitted to compensate. A shadow looms behind the center chair, and it takes me a second to recognize them as wings. On the far left, red eyes gleam through the shadows of the hood.

Devon.

I don’t linger on him, wary of revealing I know the guy. I doubt that would help either of us out any.

My chest hurts, the anxiety now physically painful. I don’t know what they’re waiting for. Am I supposed to say something? Am I supposed to suffer and wait? I can’t make a wrong move here.

I might be hot shit in the Cube, but this isn’t my territory. I have too much history of disobedience, too much power. I could sway half of this universe against them if I tried, they know I could walk out of here and unmake them with barely a thought.

But they also know I don’t enjoy ruining the ending of a good story.

And that’s the whole reason I’m here, isn’t it?

So I wait, hands at my sides, obedient. I won’t give them any reason to believe I’m a threat. They’re just as good at setting hidden plots in motions as I am.

“Perry.”

I incline my head rather than speak aloud. I don’t know if I’d be able to hide my surprise at Devon being the one to address me first.

“You have shown remarkable ability, considering how long you were—” he pauses and the others hiss a breath on cue. “—away.”

Do they rehearse these things?

“It’s as if you never left,” he purrs. “Aside from the rebellious attitude you seem to have shed.”

Rebellious attitude.

I lift my head, careful not to move too fast, and turn my eyes on Devon.

I’ve met him once, not long before I ‘went away.’ He was cold and completely ignored me until Kane left the room. His gaze felt like it could read everything about me, but all I could do was glare at him like the little shit I was when I was eight.

I can’t remember what he said, when he finally spoke to me, but it confused me. Something about Kane. I can almost find the shape of the words, but they’ve been lost to time.

The figure in the center chair shifts. Their wings catch the light, though not enough for me to really see them. It would be too easy to identify them if I did, I suppose.

“Your supervisor has hinted that your current classification is restricting both your efficiency and improvement.” The winged council member’s voice snakes through the room, high and smooth. Unfamiliar. “Knowing this, your council has seen fit to elevate you to your previous status.”

I raise my brows, but still say nothing. This isn’t what I expected. Not only am I not being threatened, I’m being promoted? Skipping a classification?

“Your talents are wasted in F-Class—see that you continue to impress.”

Ah, there’s the threat.

“Do you require any clarifications or reminders of what returning to D-Class will require of you?” a thin wheeze asks from the far right. “It has been several years, after all.”

I hesitate.

I remember how it works. My supervisor will fill my PDA with pre-screened jobs for me to choose from instead of handpicking them for me. I have a quota, a balance between jobs of different sizes, that I’m expected to fill. He doesn’t have to shadow me. He technically doesn’t have to contact me at all unless I’m behind, but expecting Kane to leave me alone is laughable.

This is highly unusual.

Both times I was promoted as a kid, Kane walked in and announced it by throwing me an official description of my new responsibilities and a new PDA equipped for them. As far as I know, the council doesn’t do this. This isn’t how this works.

But Kane warned me about being clever. What would they consider cheek? Would asking why they decided to give me the news be presumptuous? Would asking any question be ruled as another strike against me?

In the end, I ask when I’ll be getting my D-Class PDA. The one in my pocket will be useless in my new role.

The winged council member’s face mask strains in a smile, and I can’t help the feeling they’re laughing at me. I don’t move, sure that if I do I won’t be leaving this room.

“It was delivered to your supervisor moments ago,” they say. “You’d better go get it.”

It would be hard to miss a dismissal as pointed as that.

I dip my head in a nod, touch my left hand to my right shoulder in a hasty salute, and turn on my heel. It takes all of my self control not to run.

When I open the door to leave the room, I step out back in the fresh air of forest instead of the terrible hall. A handful of sticks falls from my hand, and I have to re-orient myself. The taste of fear still sticky in my throat, the dreamscape a thick web clinging to my skin.

I’ll have to deal with that later. I have to get the PDA from Kane. I have to sort through the terror keeping me from scooping up sticks with any kind of efficiency. I have to decide if the satisfaction at a promotion makes me a bad person or not.

Leaving a dream is always a lot harder than getting into it, and I’m starting to wonder if I ever really leave them anymore.