#is this the first time I've written for dan?

[dan-whoell]

When BIG dropped I was sitting in the passenger seat of my mother’s car. We were waiting for a red light to change. The youtube notification pinged and my I got goosebumps.

In all honesty I thought it was... not a joke exactly, but I thought for sure it was clickbait, that there was some kind of spin. I didn't believe it was actually happening. I went to twitter and saw some of the responses and I thought... I don't know what I thought. Everyone was (obviously) taking him very seriously and yet I still didn't believe it was actually happening. For some reason I just assumed it was being blown out of proportion. Still I was cautiously optimistic, thinking ok, maybe it’s real, but I never imagined Dan would explicitly come out the way that he did.��

An hour or two later I got home and watched it in my bedroom, alone, and cried. It was real. He was putting himself out there in a way that he could not walk back. I was so fucking proud of him. But more than that, I felt seen. Understood. The fear and the shame he talked about was so real to me. Specifically I remember that was a lot of stress about nothing and I didn’t think they’d reject me these days, but coming out is still a surprise and to anyone that isn’t out, it’s okay.

I was 23 and closeted to my immediate family and only just beginning to really accept my own gender crisis. I had so much fear about actually voicing my queerness to anyone in my family. I was out as a lesbian at work and had one friend that I even remotely said anything to about gender (which was mostly me shrugging and saying it was something I thought about, but not a whole lot.) But none of it was authentically me. I wasn’t living my truth, you know? I didn’t even know my truth because I didn’t do a lot of the work to figure myself out. I’ve always thought that I would never fully live my life until my family was gone, so I didn’t see the point in doing much exploring.

And then I saw this incredible person that I’d watched and looked up to for years had a courage that I didn't think I’d ever have. He gave words to the anxiety inside of me. I cried and I didn’t have anyone to hug but myself. 

I’m 28 now and I’m still not out to my family. It’s still scary to me. But I’ve looked inside myself a lot, and I’ve accepted the truth about who I am. I am queer. I am trans. That doesn’t change no matter who I do or do not tell. And I only have courage to accept myself because of Dan, and Phil, and entire community of people who are unapologetically themselves. 

Five years ago BIG gave me the courage to be honest with myself, and I will forever be grateful for that.

[alchemiclee]

digital wip compared to pencil sketch. DID I MAKE HIM LOOK PRETTY YET?????

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Avicii - Hey Brother 2013

"Hey Brother" is a dance song by Swedish DJ and record producer Avicii from his debut studio album, True (2013). American bluegrass singer Dan Tyminski provides vocals for the track. Tyminski did the vocals for "A Man of Constant Sorrow" (poll #26) from the 2000 film O Brother, Where Art Thou?.

"Hey Brother" was written by Avicii, Ash Pournouri, Salem Al Fakir, Vincent Pontare and Veronica Maggio. The song, which serves as the album's third single, was solicited to Australian radio on 9 October 2013 and later released on 28 October 2013 in Germany, Switzerland and Austria. In March 2014, a version of the track remixed by Avicii himself was released on his remix album True (Avicii by Avicii), this time featuring new vocals from singer Salem Al Fakir.

In the UK, after climbing for several weeks, "Hey Brother" peaked at number two on the UK Singles Chart on 15 December 2013. In addition, "Hey Brother" peaked at the top of the UK Dance Chart. Including previous releases "I Could Be the One", "Wake Me Up" and "You Make Me", Avicii therefore reached the summit of the UK Dance Chart four times in 2013 alone.

In the US, the song entered the Billboard Hot 100 chart at number 77 in December 2013, and rose to number 16 in March 2014. After Clear Channel personnel noticed the song's success at pop and adult pop radio, they asked Island Def Jam to craft a remix that showcases the song's instruments more prominently. Support for this remix enabled "Hey Brother" to debut, and peak, at number 59 on Billboard's Country Airplay chart in March 2014. The song would become Avicii's final song to hit the top 40 before his death in 2018.

"Hey Brother" received a total of 67% yes votes!

[miraclewoozi]

DON'T SWEAT IT. - l.jh

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.

pairing; lee jihoon x fem!reader.  content; fluff / gym crush au / strangers to lovers / kinda idiots to lovers / smut towards the end (MINORS DNI). w/c; just a breezy 18k- and some change? warnings; swearing, this is only proof read once because if i read it again i was going to lose my mind. please let me know if i've forgotten any. smut tags under the cut ( not sure that this counts as a warning but a heads up: the gym weight units, whenever mentioned, are in kilograms not lbs because i’m british and the metric system, am i right? sorry if there are any other british-isms, i try really hard to avoid them/catch them on a proofread but there are inevitably some that have slipped through the net.  )

note; gym-selfie jihoon, you will never not own my ass. ( screaming internally this is the first fic i've written since my dan + phil youtube era. i don't know what i'm doing. this has been in my wips for about two months. it's a bit all over the place. that's. literally just me. bon appetite. <3 )

smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), blowjob started/implied (at the end), protected sex (be safe out there gang), little bit of biting, no huge power dynamics? reader & jihoon are both switches (and simps), some use of pet-names (good girl/baby).

—————

He first sees you around lunchtime on an otherwise unassuming Sunday. 

As you walk in, the gym is wonderfully quiet. A handful of regulars mill about, making full use of the rare freedom of the machinery. One of the club’s personal trainers is marching an impossibly steep incline on a treadmill. It could just be any other weekend session in this criminally over-equipped and under-used gym: the town’s worst kept secret. But when the door slams shut behind you, his head jerks up; it, in this moment, is the loudest sound in the room. It’s sort of the only one he hears at all.

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you as he sits with dumbbells rested against his thighs. He catches his breath as he wonders who you are, if you’ve ever been to this gym before, why he doesn’t recognise you. Are you a new potential regular, maybe? Or just visiting the area and making good use of the cheap pay-as-you-go rates? Maybe, he considers, lips turning downwards in thought… maybe you’ve been coming here for a long time and he’s somehow just always been so in his own head that he’s never noticed.

The last, he thinks, is sort of unlikely. No. He would definitely remember a face like yours.

His heart rate slows more than he usually lets it as he finds himself watching you fill up your water bottle at the fountain, taking a long sip on your way over to one of the stairmasters. His brain blanks out when he realises that he’s not just looking anymore, he’s sort of staring, and swallows the saliva on his tongue hard, looking back at the mirror. He doesn’t want to be that guy. He isn’t that guy – he just got distracted by the loud noise, and this is exactly why he checks the damn battery on his headphones before he leaves the house. 

The only problem is that now, he can’t remember how many sets he’s done. He lies back and stares straight into a slightly sketchy light-fixture, neglecting to pick up the dumbbells that he put aside for his next set of pushes. Jihoon adjusts the position of his shoulders against the bench, arches his back off it slightly, digs his heels into the spongy floor beneath them and pushes the ones still in his hands until failure. 

Today, he finishes his routine and leaves the gym without allowing himself so much as another glance your way.

He neglects to notice that your eyes are avoiding him right back. 

—————

You smile at him for the first time on a Tuesday. Not the following one – a week and a bit later.

Seungcheol is with him tonight. Jihoon prefers to train alone nine times out of ten: this is a truth widely acknowledged, accepted and respected among his friends. Gym time is his down time, his equivalent of movie marathons and comfort food, of face masks and glasses of wine. But it’s not a hard rule: occasionally, someone will ask to tag along and use one of his guest passes, and Jihoon very rarely says no. There are two reasons. One, he isn’t actually rude, contrary to approximately eighteen running jokes in the group-chat. But also, it adds a little bit of variety to his otherwise very set-in-stone regimen, and mixing it up doesn’t hurt. Like tonight, for example. Seungcheol is pulling him into the studio off the main gym floor, his own gym bag packed with boxing pads and gloves for them to play with.

Variety.

Jihoon grumbles a little at the idea, at first. He has a very love-hate relationship with cardio, favouring a simple steady-state run over everything else, and it just feels a bit against his moral code to use gym time for something like this. However, he comes to discover very quickly that smacking Seungcheol’s hands is very therapeutic; Jihoon knows he’s maybe getting a little too into it when his friend asks if they can switch around, grimacing and shaking out his wrist after a particularly beefy punch. 

He agrees, albeit reluctantly, tugging off the gloves he’s wearing and pulling on the pads instead.

This half of the activity is considerably less enjoyable for Jihoon; he starts to cool down and loses his flow almost straight away and after about thirty seconds, his breathing is back to normal and he feels ready to go again. Even so, he does what he needs to do to be a good workout partner, and goes one step further into ‘good friend’ territory as he allows Seungcheol to vent about the bad day he had at work in-between hits, offering murmurs and looks of disgust when it feels appropriate. Suddenly, the impromptu request to come to the gym tonight makes much more sense, as does the slightly bizarre choice of activity, but Jihoon tries not to ask about it in too much detail.

They swing at each other for a few more rounds apiece, working up a healthy sweat and getting out a few frustrations as the hour wears on. On the last set, Jihoon switches out Seungcheol’s hands for a punching bag, putting a lot more of his weight behind every hit and really tiring himself out. By the end, his hair sticks to his forehead and his cheeks have flushed bright red; he only stops when he gets that weird, metallic taste in the back of his mouth that says he’s probably overdone it. Again.

“Hit the shower?” Seungcheol asks breathlessly as he finishes his last set of Russian twists and lies down flat on the floor, equally sticky and flushed all over. 

Jihoon pats his face dry with his towel, shaking his head. “You go ahead. I’ll have one at home.” 

He doesn’t give Seungcheol much of a chance to respond, already cleaning down anything he’s touched or managed to sweat on and riding out the high of the endorphins flooding his veins. Secretly, he hasn’t had a cardio session this high energy or this satisfying in a long time. He isn’t going to readily admit to that though.

“Nah, I’ll do the same,” Seungcheol agrees. He starts packing the gear he brought with him into his bag and they leave together after, heading towards the exit. 

That’s when he sees you again. 

He doesn’t notice at first; you’re stowing your things into one of the higher lockers, and you have your headphones slung around your neck as he walks past. It’s the sound of a song he vaguely recognises through your speakers that makes his head snap over from the conversation he’s in the middle of. They walk past at the moment you drop down from your tiptoes, and you flash a small (but insanely pretty) smile at Jihoon.

By the time he manages to process this fact, he’s already walked past you and you’re headed over into the main gym area, so even though he turns around to try and catch your eye, all he sees is your retreating figure. He stumbles over his own feet, not looking where he’s going, and just barely catches himself on Seungcheol’s upper arm before he actually does fall over. His older friend glances down at his bicep before he adopts a look that Jihoon has seen many, many times before: just never directed at him. His cheeks heat up further and he looks away.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, one eyebrow so far up his forehead that it’s disappeared almost entirely under his soggy hair. He looks so smug, so incredibly entertained. Jihoon wants to smack that expression off his face, immediately.

“Nothing,” Jihoon rushes, managing not to act on the violent thought even though he wants to. He clears his throat. “No-one. I-... they’re new, I think. I don’t know.”

Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, pushing the door open for them both to leave through. “Yeah,” he scoffs, eyes glimmering with something Jihoon doesn’t think he likes the look of. “Nothing, my ass.”

—————

Three days later, he hears you speak for the first time.

Granted, you aren’t speaking to him – at least, not at first. But that’s not really what matters.

It’s late, and it’s a Friday night. Fridays are usually Jihoon’s days rest days, but sitting around his apartment had him feeling impossibly twitchy, with far too much energy to burn and no way to do so without leaving the house. And he knows that he needs to take days off, now and again. He knows that they’re good for recovery and that it’s healthy to take time to himself that involves not lifting weights. But what he also knows is that if he doesn’t manage to shake the weird buzzing feeling in his muscles, in his joints, in his veins, he’s never going to get to sleep. So, here he finds himself at almost 10PM, walking down the street to get to the gym.

To begin with, he doesn’t know (or really care) who it is that’s coming up behind him. He can hear quite clearly that the mystery person is on the phone, and that they’re in the middle of what seems to be a rather heated argument: his brain latches onto occasional words, phrases, curses. Every now and again, their voice drops to a deep, frustrated mutter and he cringes slightly, making a point to keep his eyes forward and down so as not to draw attention to the fact that this presumably private conversation has become everything but.

He touches his entry fob to the sensor on the door as he arrives and pushes it open. Jihoon uses the opportunity to stand still, to glance back at whoever it is that’s walked behind him for the past four and a half minutes, and his eyes come to land on you. He falters, noting how your eyes are a bit glassy and your cheeks are stained with what he can safely assume are tear-tracks. In this moment, he wants to run; he doesn’t want anything to do with that, and he certainly doesn’t want to hear any more of your call. It’s none of his business, and he feels plenty weird enough already with what he has overheard. But, for some unknown reason, he stays in place.

“No – no, you don’t get to-...” you hiss into your phone. “It was our fucking anniversary, you asshole.” Jihoon’s face tightens at that, lips drawn between his teeth and his eyes blowing slightly wide. You pass through the door in front of him, flashing a small smile as you go. Another smile, he thinks to himself, but he’d be an idiot to compare them in any way; this one is so dramatically dissimilar to the first, he thinks it could almost have come from a totally different person. 

Unfortunately, there’s nothing ‘insanely pretty’ about it this time. Your smile is tight-lipped and exhausted, slightly apologetic. Maybe even forced. He does try to return a warmer one to you, but he doesn’t know if you notice. 

“Look, I’m at the gym – we’re not doing this right now. I’ll call you later.” You hang up the phone with the kind of sigh that groans in the back of your throat.

A small part of him wants to take this moment and use it to ask if you’re all right, but an even larger part of him doesn’t. It isn’t because he doesn’t care. In a weird way, considering this is only the first time he’s clearly heard your voice and he knows absolutely nothing about you, he does care. But there are a few things that stop him. Not only are you a near-complete stranger, not only would he have no idea what to say to you if the answer happened to come out as a ‘no’, not only is he already coming over a little bit clammy at the thought of having a conversation with you… Jihoon isn’t stupid. He knows from the sound of your voice and the way you’re rather aggressively typing a message into your phone that it’s a ridiculous question.

You’re walking into the gym at 10 o’clock on a Friday night, your eyes literally brimming with tears. Of course you’re not all right.

He’s still standing in the open doorway mulling all this over, but Jihoon only realises when a gust of wind slaps over his calves and sends a draught not only through the reception area, but up the length of his spine. He comes inside fully as you close the locker you’re using – he notices, but he isn’t sure why, that it’s the same one as last time – and throws his things into the one he always uses. Two below and one to the left of yours.

It’s quiet tonight: just the pair of you and one middle-aged guy. Jihoon recognises him as the friendly man who seemingly knows everyone who comes in here – including you, apparently, judging by the way he strikes up a short but energetic conversation. When the other guy walks away, you clamp your headphones back over your ears and return to what you were doing before, occasionally bobbing your head or moving your lips in time with whatever it is that you’re listening to. Jihoon steals little glances at you now and again when you’re in-between sets, watching how you breathe deeper, how your skin glows with sweat as you tap your fingertips against your thighs.

He almost drops the bar he’s holding when you catch his eyes in the long line of mirrors. He turns away, swallowing hard, completely missing how your own gaze lingers.

Jihoon becomes so obsessed with not being caught looking at you again that he doesn’t even notice when you disappear off the gym floor completely. It’s only when he pulls his headphones off at the end of his session and glances around that he registers your absence: your third companion is long gone, and he assumes you must have snuck out without him noticing too. He settles the speakers back over his ears before pulling on an old zip-up, flicking the hood over his head to shelter him a little better once he gets outside. But he’s in no rush to get home so he takes his time, resting his bag between his abdomen and the lockers, replying to a few messages and clicking his tongue at some of the nonsense being spewed into the group-chat. 

He isn’t sure exactly how long he’s standing there for, but he does know precisely what pulls him back to the world outside of the device in his hands.

To begin with, he doesn’t notice you approach, lost completely in his screen. He doesn’t hear your footsteps, or the way you politely clear your throat to announce your presence so he can move out of the way. He misses your moment of realisation that he’s listening to music and has no idea that you’re standing three feet behind him. He doesn’t even see you walk up next to him, your hair still damp from your shower and sitting loose over your shoulders.

It’s only when you try to reach over him to grab the last of your things that he snaps out of his trance. The fragrance of your body wash hits him first, and oh boy, does it hit him. Sweet, and delicate. Then, he gets something beautifully fruity: it’s not a perfume (it doesn’t smell like a perfume), but it’s you. Your shampoo, maybe? A conditioner? He can’t tell. Whatever it is, the combination of fragrances has him feeling like he’s been slammed into by a damn freight train. He drops his bag to the floor, freezing for a second, and then finally moves away just as the little door swings open. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly, tugging his hood down and pulling his headphones off completely. “I didn’t even think you were still here.” He can’t shake the smell of you, nor the feeling of your warm frame leaning so close to his own. God, why is his heart pounding like he’s just finished a round of sprints? Why can’t he breathe?

“No – hey, no, don’t be,” you rush, shaking your head. You finally succeed in pulling your coat free and start trying to get it on; Jihoon wonders if you often struggle to find your sleeves like this, if you’re always chasing them around like a puppy after its own tail. He does it too, sometimes. He gets it. It’s cute. “It’s okay. I was trying not to disturb-... I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he tells you. For the first time, he’s able to smile back at you properly. 

Why is it so hot in here, all of a sudden? Do they shut off the air conditioning after hours or something? He’s breaking out in a sweat.

“Call it even?” you suggest shyly, extending out a hand now you’ve managed to get both arms through your sleeves. He looks down at your fingers for a second before reaching to shake your hand once, a semi-firm grip securing the ‘deal’. (He feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted after, but he tries not to make that too obvious).

It goes awkwardly quiet for a moment then, and Jihoon wishes deeply that he had it in him to say something. Anything. But his brain has gone completely empty and apparently, all he knows how to do is stand completely still like a fucking statue. He shifts his gaze from you, to the wall behind you, to the carpet beneath his shoes, all the while tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt as if it might bring him a tiny breath of fresh air. The gentle sound of you clearing your throat has him looking back at your face again though; he assumes for a second that this is maybe you about to announce taking your leave. All the while, he’s cursing himself out in his own head for being totally inept, and he’s not entirely sure that it isn’t written all over his face.

“Alone, today?” you ask, idly fiddling with your zipper and succeeding in taking him by surprise. He really didn’t think you were going to continue this. And yet…

“Hm?” he questions. 

You swallow before answering. “You… the last time, you were with a friend?” you explain, and now it’s your turn to look away. He wonders if you’re a little warm too, if he’s right in what he was thinking about the air-conditioning. 

“Oh. Right.” 

He nods. An annoying train of doubt in his mind wants to know why you’re asking about Seungcheol; if maybe it was him that you smiled at the other night, even though he knows your eyes weren’t looking up at the man he brought with him. He thinks maybe he should be used to these turns in conversation by now – you certainly wouldn’t be the first person to ask if one of his friends is available, after all – but somehow, he isn’t, and he has a slightly bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he goes on.

He really didn’t have ‘you being interested in one of his best friends’ on his bingo card for tonight, that’s for sure. 

“Yeah. I think he’s with his partner, or… I don’t know. I don’t really bring other people, often. That was a one-off.”

You nod silently and Jihoon can’t quite get a read on what that means. He wonders if you’re upset at the revelation of Seungcheol’s partner, or maybe that he doesn’t tag along to every session. Or maybe, maybe, you were just being polite, and you don’t really care what his friend is up to that means he isn’t here. But whatever it is that you’re feeling, you do far too good a job at hiding it; he’s suddenly very overcome with the desire to run, again, except this time he might just bury his head in the sand too for good measure.

“How much were you deadlifting, just then?” you ask in the lull, just as he thinks he might have perfected the best way to say goodbye that doesn’t make him come across as even more of a tool than he probably already has. It throws him off kilter, but somehow, he manages to answer you in reasonable time.

“Oh, God… uh, one… 160?” He says uncertainly. “That’s not… I can do heavier-...” In his mind, he slaps his forehead. “Wait, no, that’s-... I mean, it’s true, but I didn’t mean-...”

You bite back your smile as he talks himself in a circle but Jihoon is too flustered to notice, convinced that he now sounds like every arrogant gym rat on the planet. God, he’s given himself the ick.

“I guessed you could,” you say. 

Oh boy, this freezes him. Mid-thought, mid blink, mid-breath: he’s completely stuck. What does that mean? What does that mean? He only just manages to unstick his now suddenly dry tongue from the roof of his mouth, looking at you with surprised, confused eyes and parted lips. There aren’t any words on them, though. Like a deer in headlights, he just… stares.

“I mean, okay. Come on.” Your eyes visibly drop as you look him over, gaze lingering at his shoulders, his biceps, his waist. “You can get another twenty on that at least, right?”

He doesn’t know how to explain what’s happening to him, but if he thought he was burning up before? It was nothing compared to this, now. And there’s no way you haven’t noticed how everything from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears has suddenly started staining scarlet. He bows his head and pinches his lips tight, wrestling away the train of thought that appears as you drag your bottom lip between your teeth momentarily, still eyeing his arms. God, he’s never felt so overwhelmed in his life. 

“Something like that, yeah,” he strains. He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, even though he knows all of his personal bests by heart. Deadlift, 195kg. He hit it a few weeks ago: a couple of days before he first saw you.

“Mm. You can tell.”

Jihoon tries to shake off the compliment, but he fails. In equal measure he wishes you’d stop (he doesn’t know how much more blood can rush to his cheeks before he keels over) and never wants you to stop talking. It’s all going straight to his stomach, though, and he doesn’t remember having felt this specific brand of nervous and excited and stupidly shy since he was in high school.

He can hardly keep up. This is the danger zone.

Maybe it’s a bad idea that he says the next thing that comes into his head in a desperate attempt to change the conversation away from how much he can pull. But somehow, his voice doesn’t break when he asks, “are you parked far away?”

What? It’s dark outside, and this part of town isn’t exactly known for its upstanding citizens and pretty flowerbeds.

“Oh,” you say, eyes a little wide. “I’m-... just staying close-by. I walked here.” The space between his eyebrows must crease a little too quickly because you immediately hurry to speak again. “Really. It’s like… not even ten minutes. All main streets. It’s nothing.”

“Ten minutes longer than I’d walk around here at night on my own,” he says lightheartedly. In tone, at least. He’s actually completely serious.

You laugh at that; he lets out a chuckle, too. Now, Jihoon doesn’t believe in fairies but he thinks that if they were real, they’d giggle just like you do. 

With a smile still on your face, you say, “what? A strong guy like you? Come on, now.”

Do you have to keep doing that? Fuck, he’s absolutely done for.

He tilts his head forwards, eyes closed, trying so hard to stop the muscles in his cheeks from lifting in a grin that it becomes a workout in and of itself.

“I mean it,” he says, taking what he hopes is a subtle breath to settle the fluttering in his chest. The next thing he knows, he’s leaning one shoulder against the lockers, a little reminiscent of every douchebag in every teen movie ever made. If he doesn’t think about it too much, he won’t cringe into oblivion until he gets home and replays this interaction over and over in his head instead of going to sleep. “Maybe I’ve just lived here too long. I might be jaded, but it’s still true.”

“How long is too long?” you ask.

“All my life,” he tells you.

“No way?”

“Mm.” A beat. “What about you?”

“I’m just staying with a friend, right now.”

“Oh, right.” He falls quiet again as he remembers the first time he saw you, remembers making the list in his head of all the possible reasons he hadn’t seen you before. The second was true, then.

Why does that feel like the worst possible scenario? He decides not to unpack that here.

“Maybe-...” you start, glancing down at your hands, which have been twisting in front of you for a few seconds now. Your chest inflates, filled with the words you’re about to speak, but only a breath comes out when you shake your head instead of saying them. “No, don’t worry. Scratch that.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, because he thinks that whatever you were about to suggest, there’s not much he would have said no to. He feels like it’s only fair to give you another chance to say it.

But you don’t.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” You pause. “I… should probably get going.” He glances over your shoulder at the clock mounted on the far wall, squinting to see the time. 11:45.

“Shit. Yeah, me too,” Jihoon agrees. He didn’t realise it had gotten so late, so fast: he’s hardly ever out at this time. Lord, he already knows it’s going to be an open inquisition when he gets back to his apartment. His neighbours, Soonyoung and Seokmin, are about to have a fucking field day. 

But it’s already long past the time he usually goes to bed, so he asks his next question anyway. He still can’t shake the thought of you walking back on your own at this hour. “Do-… you need a ride?” 

He’s not sure if you actually consider it, or just wait a moment before you answer just to be polite. Either way, you end up shaking your head.

“It’s okay. I’ve-… got a call to make, so.” Your voice is a little quieter, lips tweaking up into a regretful half-smile, and Jihoon curses in his own head. How had he forgotten about that? “Thank you, though. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Just… get back safe.”

You smile and nod, taking a step towards the door and Jihoon does the same. He reaches the exit first and holds it open for you; when you’re both out in the street, he suppresses a shiver and looks in the direction of where he left his car earlier. Feeling the full force of the cold, it crosses his mind to ask again if you’re sure about walking home, but you’re already pulling a beanie down over your still damp hair and tapping something into your phone, so he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you around, uh-…” you start to say, only looking back up when you falter, realising that this is the first time you’re about to use his name and it occurs to you both, at the same time, that you haven’t done this part, yet.

“Jihoon,” he introduces himself, lips quirking into a side-smile. His gaze is expectant and you respond to it perfectly. 

“Y/n,” you introduce yourself. 

“See you around, y/n.”

You split off in the opposite direction to where he’s heading. Before he clamps his headphones over his ears for the short walk up to his car, the last thing he hears is the retreating sound of a dial-tone. 

—————

He doesn’t see you then for two whole weeks. 

For the first couple of days, he only idly notices; it’s not a big deal — it’s not like you’re always there when he is, and he’s sure it’s the same vice versa. But he notices your absence, nonetheless. By the end of the first week, he casually wonders if you’ve had a change in schedule. Maybe you’re on a different working pattern, something that means you can’t be there on Monday and Thursday evenings and at 11:45am on Sundays. 

It’s not weird. He only knows this because prior to that first conversation, acknowledging you as you crossed paths by the free-weights became part of his routine. It’s fine that he sort of misses those little interactions, isn’t it?

Maybe you’ve decided to start training ridiculously early in the morning instead? He tried that once. Never again. It then occurs to him, in the middle of a self-enforced rest day as he sits in the dark nursing a headache, that perhaps you’re not well. He sort of wishes he’d had the guts to ask for your number the last time he saw you, now: he thinks he’d check in, see if you were okay, ask how work was going or something. 

Deep down he knows he’d probably actually just be staring at a blank text thread with a ‘casual’ message typed, tweaked a few hundred times, and ultimately unsent. But that’s fine. It’s the thought that counts. 

The next time he sees you isn’t even in the gym, at all. It’s a Sunday afternoon — he finished his morning session, went home, showered, and headed back out into town after some lunch with a few errands to run. He finds himself spoiled with the luxury of a spare few hours to kill and dips into his favourite coffee place, thrilled beyond belief to find that it’s not obnoxiously busy and that there’s only one other person in the queue waiting to be served. 

Oh, he thinks when he looks up from his phone and sees a vaguely familiar set of headphones sitting on top of a definitely familiar mane of hair, standing right in front of him. Oh, shit. It’s you.

Jihoon goes back and forth with himself over it but ultimately decides he probably doesn’t know you well enough to just say hello out in the wild like this, so even though the urge to do so strikes, he holds himself back. It’s agonising, though. He really wants to. 

You step forward to order and he’s typing out a reply to a message in his, Seokmin and Soonyoung’s three-way group chat, in which he’s literally been fighting for his life as of late. He made the mistake of mentioning you in passing a few days ago and ever since, he’s had to vehemently deny that he has developed his first gym crush, insisting that actually, he’s just made a friend. They don’t believe him, because of course they don’t. That would be far too reasonable. Seokmin says that Jihoon wouldn’t be blushing just from saying your name if you were really ‘just a friend’. Soonyoung argues Jihoon wouldn’t have mentioned you at all.

“I’m so sorry — bear with me, just-…” your voice is quiet but Jihoon hears you apologising to the cashier in front of you, and it snaps him clean away from the tiff he’s having with the men who live in his building. He glances up and you’re elbow-deep in the bag over your shoulder, red in the face with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He turns his head slightly and sees the small hand-written sign that says the card machine isn’t working, and they’re cash only, today. 

He can hazard a guess at your predicament. 

After another few seconds of you trying to find whatever it is you’re looking for in your bag, he starts feeling bad for you. This, right here, is his own worst nightmare. Should the roles be reversed, he thinks he would’ve just turned around and walked out. It’s exactly why he doesn’t bother with backpacks and satchels day-to-day: if it doesn’t fit in his pockets, he doesn’t take it out with him. The system isn’t perfect but it has saved Jihoon a decent amount of public distress. 

But the roles aren’t reversed, and he has his wallet already in his hand, so… he only gives himself a few seconds to wonder if it’s appropriate before he does the stupid thing anyway.

“Don’t worry — I’ve got it,” he says, stepping around you, pulling out the cash to pay for your order. You’re dumbstruck when you look  at him, head tilted to the side. The person stood behind the counter glances at you, then at him, and back at you; you don’t see this, however, because your eyes haven’t left Jihoon’s face since he appeared — as far as you’re concerned — out of thin air.

“I can’t ask you to…” you start to protest, but your hands have stopped fishing around and he’s moving the cash further towards the barista, who hesitates just a second longer. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ve got you.” He says this with such finality that you quite literally can’t argue with him. The lady behind the counter accepts the cash and you nod, shyly, mouthing a thank you. He orders his own drink — an Americano, nothing exciting — and you both go to stand at the other end of the counter while you wait.

“Hi,” you finally say, and Jihoon can’t help but give a small chuckle. 

He doesn’t have anything hugely witty or creative in his arsenal, though, so he comes back with a matching, “hey.”

“How… have you been?” you ask. 

“Can’t complain, really,” he says. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you around for a few weeks.” Oh, God — the second the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Why did he have to add that last part? Why didn’t he just leave it at the question? 

“Yeah — about that,” you breathe, ducking your head to conceal the heat that’s spreading over your cheeks. “You know how I said I was staying with that friend?” He nods, and you continue. “I was waiting for some stuff to get sorted out with an apartment and it all finally got resolved, so… I’ve been moving my stuff over to a new place.”

Jihoon feels his heart sink for a moment, but he keeps his expression pleasant and engaged. His fingers threaten to give him away as they fiddle with the aglet on the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

“Sounds tiring,” he says lightly, and you laugh again, nodding. It’s odd, having his heart taking residence low in his stomach and somehow also in his throat, all while hammering away at a mile a minute. All the caffeine in the world couldn’t have this effect on him. “Is it going okay so far?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “It’s a process, but… it’ll be worth it.”

The barista behind the counter announces herself by clearing her throat and slides your drinks across the marble surface with a little glimmer in her eye. Jihoon picks them both up, extending yours out to you. There’s a pause (in which he swallows a large helping of self-doubt) as he glances to the door, working through several combinations of his next words in his mind before he looks back at you. 

“Do you… maybe have ten minutes to sit with these?” He asks. You light up immediately, not even checking the time on any of your devices, nor the wall clock behind your head. He doesn’t let himself think about why it makes him giddy that you’re accepting the offer, just like that.

“Yeah — yeah, sure.” You smile, walking through the lines of tables and sliding into one of the big, comfy chairs by the window. He unzips his jacket and slings it over the arm of the other chair before settling in himself, his long fingers wrapping around the to-go cup. The drink warms his perpetually cold palms and he sighs sweetly.

“You must be excited to get into the new place, then?” he asks after taking a sip, letting it heat him up from the inside. It could be argued that this job is already being taken care of, but Jihoon is not about to go there.

“Oh, God yes.” You nod, relaxing back in the seat with your own cup. Jihoon subconsciously leans a little forward in tandem. “It’s been fun staying with my friend, but…” You pause, lips slightly parted, before going on. “Okay, a warning: I’m a terrible person for this, I know. She’s done me a huge favour, letting me stay there — but I can’t deal with how untidy she is. It’s driving me nuts.”

A chuckle bubbles in Jihoon’s chest, cheeks starting to ache as his smile grows and grows. It hasn’t fallen since he sat down opposite you, and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, any time soon. “That bad?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” you groan, covering your face with one hand. He wishes you hadn’t — he thinks you look quite lovely when you’re all lit up like this. “She doesn’t clean her dishes after she eats — she piles them up in the sink for like, three days. I don’t think she’s used the vacuum the entire time I’ve been there. I keep finding wrappers and packets and mismatched socks everywhere —” 

His snort of laughter rolls off the back of his throat rather ungraciously and he settles back into his chair. You gently bump his ankle under the table with your foot, beaming at him. “I’m serious! I can’t live like this, Jihoon. I can’t!”

The more you speak, the less he can control the fits he’s descended into, and his abs start to ache after a while; there’s desperation in your voice but it’s just wrapped up so cutely in your lighthearted frustration and decoratively tied together with your sunshine smile… he can’t help it — he’s in pieces. It’s okay though, because you’re laughing too: it makes him think of fairies again, and he can picture you with dainty, intricately patterned wings under the soft lighting in the café. He wipes the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand as he starts to calm down, taking a few deep breaths all the way into his stomach.

“You’re so much stronger than I am,” he says.. “I couldn’t deal with that.”

“You know, I had a feeling you’d be a clean person, too,” you say, sipping at your coffee again. “I mean… I’ve never seen you use the gym showers, so I wasn’t sure, but…”

“Hey,” he says, mock-defensively. “I don’t trust the locks, okay? I shower at home!”

Your cup is lifted to your mouth and he can only see you from the nose upwards, but by the creases at the corners of your eyes, he knows you’re concealing a smile behind it as you nod back at him.

Ten minutes turns to twenty and then somehow becomes thirty — Jihoon starts feeling like you’re someone he’s known for years, and not just the person he accidentally ended up paying attention to in the gym just a couple of weeks ago. He bounces off you and you bounce off him. Both of you have long-since finished your drinks, too: there’s no real reason for either of you to still be here.

Except the obvious. 

“So, the apartment,” Jihoon says, leaning forwards again with his elbows resting on his knees. “Is it…?” He makes a few circular gestures with his hands with which he tries to imply something to the effect of ‘local’, or ‘nearby’, but he can’t quite bring himself to say that out loud. You seem to catch on though. Somehow.

Then again, you did say — a few subject changes ago — that Jihoon is on your wavelength. Maybe that’s it.

“About… a fifteen minute walk from here? Give or take,” you say, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead so fast it’s like they’re on strings, being controlled by someone else. He doesn’t realise for a few seconds, by which point he isn’t even sure how to relax them. 

“No way?” he says, trying to feign nothing more than an idle interest. Obviously, he’s soaring. 

“Yeah. I’ll want to get back training soon, too, so there’s some incentive to get this done quickly. I miss it,” you tell him.

Jihoon comes out with what he says next without thinking. His mouth is moving before fully engaging his brain. It’s the coffee jitters. Apparently.

“Well, if you need any help with anything, I’ve got a car.”

“You’re too sweet,” you say. “I really couldn’t put you out like that, but…”

“You wouldn’t be,” he assures you with a shrug. “If I’m not working or in the gym… I’m never really that busy. It’s up to you, but-… I’d be happy to.”

You bite the inside of your lip for a moment, apparently mulling this over, before wiggling in your seat to pull your phone out of the front pocket of your jeans. You unlock the device and hand it over on a ‘new contact’ screen. 

Jihoon goes completely stupid: he thinks his brain stops functioning as he takes it to put his number in — for a moment, he’s staring dumbstruck, struggling to even remember the order of the digits now he’s under pressure, but it comes back to him eventually. His thumbs dart across the screen and he checks, double checks and triple checks that he’s typed it right before placing it back in your waiting palm. 

His fingertips brush against yours and it tickles, sending small shockwaves up his arms and straight into his chest. You smile down at your phone before glancing up at him.

“You need an emoji,” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Huh?”

“Everyone in my contacts has one — I’ve been doing this since I was in high-school. You need to pick one, too.”

“Oh, uh-…” Jihoon swallows, and for some reason he’s completely forgotten every single little emoticon option there is. He draws a blank. “I can’t — you pick one for me. I don’t know.”

You narrow your eyes at him for a second, pouting your lips as you seem to scroll through the endless options. Now and again, you look up at him, as if trying to see what best fits him before you continue your search. He waits. And waits. And waits. He’s about to throw in an admittedly useless suggestion of some sort of boring animal when you turn your phone around to show him what you’ve chosen.

Jihoon, the contact name reads. And there’s the little angel face next to it.

“Oh, come on,” he says, blushing deeply. “You can’t be serious.”

“I totally am,” you say proudly, turning it back and pressing to save it. He hides his face in his hands. “If you won’t pick your own, you get what you’re given. You did this to yourself.”

“Wow,” he chuckles weakly, sliding his hands up into his hair and raking it back off his face. Your eyes move quickly across every inch and boy, does he notice. You shrug in response and test it, sending the same little emoticon to him. He blushes harder when it comes through and he saves your number into his own phone before placing it face-down on the table. 

More than an hour after buying your coffee, Jihoon stretches his arms above his head and checks the time on his watch. He frowns slightly, not sure how the afternoon got away from him so fast, and lets out a sigh.

“I think I need to get going,” he says reluctantly. Leaving you is absolutely the opposite of what he wants to do, actually. Alas, “I have some friends coming over tonight.”

“Yeah — yeah, of course,” you smile, leaning to one side to pick your bag up off the floor. “No worries.”

You both move to stand up and he throws his coat over his arm, leading the way out. He holds open the door for you to leave first, then follows you outside into the afternoon sun. 

“It was really nice to see you,” you say, turning to face him. 

“You too,” he agrees. “Text me if you need anything, okay? But actually do. Don’t just say you will?”

You laugh sweetly. Fairies. His ears might have actually caught fire this time. “Okay, okay. I promise. I’ll text you — thank you.” There’s a pause, but only a tiny one. “And for the coffee, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, waving it off. You shake your head. He thinks your hands are twitching when you stuff them into your pockets but he can’t be sure. Your breath definitely stutters, though. 

“No, really. Um… next one’s on me?” 

He blinks, and blinks again. Next one? The next one? He feels like he’s malfunctioned and been forcibly rebooted. The next one? 

“I-…” he starts, his throat dry. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” You nod, smiling with — what he doesn’t realise is — relief. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah — I’ll see you, y/n.”

—————

Jihoon has no choice but to admit defeat to the group chat that night when Seungcheol and Jeonghan come over for a takeout.

Within minutes, his oldest friend is asking about the girl from the gym — he’s been just as relentless as Seokmin and Soonyoung in quizzing Jihoon, except it’s slightly harder to deny to Seungcheol because he did witness, first-hand, the way you had his friend tripping over his own feet with a single smile. At first, Jihoon tries to shrug it off. Play it down. Change the subject. He doesn’t mention that he’s actually spoken to you since he and Cheol trained together, or that he accidentally bumped into you and paid for your coffee, or that you stayed talking with him for as long as you did. He definitely doesn’t say that you exchanged phone numbers. 

He absolutely won’t confess to being smitten. 

All Jihoon willingly admits to is that from what he’s seen of you around, you seem nice, and with a roll of his eyes he does agree that he thinks you’re attractive. He gets a bit of a glare later in the evening when  Jeonghan asks if he’s thought about where he wants to take you on your first date, and Jihoon tells him to stop asking stupid questions and eat his chicken before he eats it for him. But all in all he thinks he evades the worst of it pretty well. For now, anyway — he knows their pestering isn’t going away any time soon. 

Especially not when, on their way out, Seungcheol leans close and whispers that whatever is going on with his gym crush, it suits him. Jihoon jabs him on the arm and the two men leave, laughing brightly.

It’s about an hour after his friends have gone home, having washed the dishes and cleaned up his apartment that Jihoon is sitting on his living room floor doing a few lower body stretches before he turns in for the night. He finds himself tapping into your text thread — not for the first time this evening — and skimming over the short conversation you had earlier. You messaged him when you got back to your friend’s place to thank him for the third time, and Jihoon replied back telling you that if you didn’t stop being silly, he was never going to respond to you again. Your reply came in the form of a “:(“ and his was a simple “:)”. That was it, but he’s been thinking about the exchange ever since. 

He’s not sure why. Nor is he certain what about that has him looking down at the messages and grinning like a fool in his apartment, alone, at 10:30pm on a Sunday night. He could probably take a stab in the dark at what it means, though. He rubs at the back of his neck with one hand as he changes conversations and types out a short message with the other. 

jihoon: fine. you’re right. 

seokmin: ?

soonyoung: probs true, does need context

jihoon: about the gym girl. you’re right. 

soonyoung: OH

seokmin: Hahahahahaha

seokmin: Yeah, you’re definitely the last to know, dude

soonyoung: fr even chan and hansol know atp lmao 

jihoon: they what?

jihoon: how do they know?

jihoon: they don’t go to my gym! i haven’t seen them in weeks!

soonyoung: because we told them????? 

seokmin: So, we might have told everyone

jihoon: blocking both of your numbers immediately.

seokmin: Hey! We’re just glad you’ve accepted it

seokmin: When do we get to meet her?

jihoon: blocked.

Well, great, Jihoon thinks as he fights the urge to lay face down on the floor and let the laminate cool his searingly hot cheeks. 

At least he’s admitted it now. 

He’s vaguely confirmed in writing that maybe he has a bit of a thing for you — it’s out in the open and at minimum, two of his friends know that it’s real. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Fingers. Whatever. No doubt by morning, all of his friends will have found out. The point stands that he hasn’t confessed to something like this since he was approximately sixteen years old, so whatever you’re doing to him, whatever this… is, it matters. 

So, he asks himself, standing up off the hardwood floor and stretching his spine, arms locked behind him and pushed back as far as they can go. He turns off all the lights, checks the front door, goes through the motions to get himself ready for bed. So… what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

—————

Come Monday evening, he’s about ready to hit the roof.

As far as bad days go, Jihoon thinks he’s in the running for one of the worst ever. He slept awfully, tossing and turning through the night despite the usual winning combination of freshly washed bed sheets and his white noise machine drowning out the occasional disturbance from the street below. He wakes up two minutes before his alarm is due to go off, only to discover he fell asleep before plugging his phone in to charge overnight, and it’s sitting at a very risky 13%. The gel he uses to keep his hair off his face at work has gone weird and only does half a job, strands tumbling back in front of his eyes the second he goes to leave his apartment, very nearly forgetting his keys. Then, to really put the cherry on top, he sees that — at some point between getting home yesterday and now — someone has scraped his car while parking up next to him. There’s a large scratch right down the passenger side, with no note nor reliable CCTV in his apartment’s parking lot to confirm who it was, and of course, the space is currently empty. 

All this before he even gets to work.

He fundamentally knows that starting the week off with a bad attitude will only lead to a really shitty remainder, but when Vernon sends his routine ‘Monday Motivation’ booster message — “you’re going to have a great day, today!” — into the group chat, Jihoon responds with a crude photo of his middle finger, right in front of the massive scuff on the bodywork of his Hyundai. Jeonghan replies with an ‘oof’, Wonwoo with a ‘yikes’, and Joshua, ever the comedian, sends a picture of Garfield lying face-down captioned ‘Mondays’ that nobody replies to. All responses feel kind of appropriate. But he pockets his phone without sending anything else, sighing again; he locks the car and checks the handle just in case before he finally heads into the building.

It’s going to be a long day. He just has to get through it.

Things don’t necessarily improve. He ends up in and out of meetings all day, so when 5 o’clock rolls around and he’s on his way out the door, he’s feeling a bit like he’s done nothing of actual value. Just, for some reason, thinking about you and tapping out a catchy beat on the top of his desk as he pretends to pay attention to useless presentation after useless presentation. But it’s still somehow been exhausting on his brain and on the drive back to his apartment, Jihoon feels so drained that he contemplates skipping the gym altogether and going straight to bed. This internal argument takes up most of his journey, but it does keep him occupied during the rush-hour traffic if it does nothing else. 

Nothing has ever been fixed by ruining a perfectly good routine, however — so no sooner than he’s back in his apartment, he changes out of his button-down and trousers and into his regular gym gear. His protein shaker is ready on the counter for when he’s home again, the lights are off, his bag is on his shoulder and the door is locked. He pushes against it a few times, checking out of habit, despite the fact that his only neighbours on this floor are Soonyoung, Seokmin and an elderly couple with a cat they’re not technically supposed to have. Nobody tells, though, because Boots has become everyone’s emotional support animal. The only actual security threat is Seokmin maybe stealing something from his fridge, but he’s only ever satisfied after the third test anyway. 

A quick warmup and a few easy stretches later, Jihoon sets about his business. Mondays are for training legs (and often, as a result, incapacitating himself for the rest of the week), and these workouts are always some of his most intense.

So intense, in fact, that he’s sweating buckets and cherry red when he steps away from the squat rack, tugging up the hem of his t-shirt to dry his face, a brief flash of his toned abdomen on full view. He’s just about catching his breath when he glances in the mirror, and his knees nearly give out when he sees you walking in. You lock eyes and smile at him in the reflection as you start to walk towards him.

It’s not just any smile, but he’s way too flustered to notice.

He spins around to face you, mortally embarrassed that you definitely just saw that, but in a weird way… kind of elated? You drop your headphones to sit around the back of your neck to greet him as you get closer. He pushes his hair back off his forehead and tries to act as cool as he can, but Jihoon suddenly becomes incredibly aware of everything about himself in this moment: his posture, how his arms hang by his sides, the exact positioning of his feet. The fact that he’s breathing pretty deeply, that his pulse is so loud in his ears that he can see your lips moving but can’t quite hear what you’re saying.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit — you’re talking. Focus. He needs to focus. 

“Sorry — what was that?” he asks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

“I like your shirt,” you repeat, a fraction clearer. Jihoon glances down at himself, at the same sweatpants and tight black workout top he wears in here several times a week, and looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. God, he lets himself think for half a second, entertaining his own stupidity with the idea that you’re finding this as hard as he is, too. Maybe I’m not alone in this. 

“Oh?” he says. “Um — thank you?”

“How’d it go with your friends last night?” you ask, hardly skipping a beat, and he’s a little thankful that you skim over his poor attempt at gratitude for a compliment he isn’t sure he deserves. Instead, his confusion wraps itself around the fact that you actually remembered what he was doing last night. Hell, even he’d forgotten in the heat of the day he’d had, but you remembered. He’s sweating over it a little and briefly wonders what the chances are of the gym floor opening up and swallowing him whole.

Slim, he decides. But not zero. 

There’s hope.

“Yeah — yeah, it was nice,” he says, internally kicking himself for overthinking this so much that he’s apparently lost his ability to speak. In the space of 24 hours, he’s gone from giggling over coffee with you to completely weak just at the sound of your voice. It should be easier here, if anything — this is home turf for him. His comfort space. He supposes the tight fit of your gym clothes accentuating your hips and thighs isn’t helping matters, and neither is the wide neckline of your own t-shirt exposing your throat and a collarbone. But still. He’s not a teenager. He should be able to handle a little bit of skin. 

He clears his throat, rolling his head side-to-side. Focus. “Sorry — I’m-… I just didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I-… couldn’t stay away. Missed it a little too much.”

“I get that,” he concurs, willing his eyes not to drop down your frame to a newly exposed area of skin just around your waist, your t-shirt riding up as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. “It’s good to-… have you back, anyway.”

“Good to be back,” you agree. “Hey — can you leave that set up for me, when you’re done? I’m on legs today, too.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to say that he knows Mondays are your leg days, as well, so he doesn’t. Even if it is true. He wonders if you would find it odd that he’s remembered. “Sure,” he says with a small smile, which you return. Just as you’re about to walk off to drop your things into a locker, he pipes up again. “I mean — hey, if you wanted a spot, or to-… do, you know… anything…”

“Are you asking me to train with you?” you ask, eyes bright and smile wider than he thinks he’s ever seen it. This is torture. He’s not even lifting anything and his heart is about to burst out of his fucking chest — God, maybe this was a bad suggestion.

“I-…” he starts, but he lets the breath out of his lungs and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah. I am.”

“Give me two minutes,” you agree, hurrying off to put your stuff away and fill up your bottle.

He manages to squeeze another set of squats in before you get back, which is sort of a miracle seeing as how his knees have gone completely weak ever since you arrived. He’s scrolling through his playlist as you cross the gym floor on your way back to him, but he looks up and smiles as you approach. 

“You go ahead — I’ve just finished.”

He knows he’s really fucking done for when, after the first round, you add plates onto the bar to out-lift him. All before he’s even positioned himself behind you to be a good spotter.

Jihoon doesn’t go down without a fight though, and things get a little competitive from there. Both of you throw some of your favourite (see: most agonising) exercises into the mix over the course of the hour, taking it in turns on the equipment and creating a session that just about has him able to move by the time you’re finished. You talk to each other when you’ve got the breath to do so, otherwise focussing on your workout with more intensity than either of you remember training with for a long time. 

And so what if he has to turn away from you once or twice to compose himself when breathless whines spill from between your lips on your last few reps, the sheer effort of the movements pushing your muscles to their absolute limit? So what if he feels his entire body run a thousand degrees every time you sweetly encourage him to manage just one more? So what if his palm stays tingling for fifteen seconds every time you high-five him for a set well done?

You slide out of the hamstring curl machine with a deep breath and legs like two sticks of jelly at the end of the session, and he holds a hand out to steady you as you regain your ability to weight-bear.

“You okay?” he asks, and you nod, patting what’s exposed of your chest and neck with your towel. 

“Yeah. Yeah — just… fuck.” You laugh, laying your hand over the top of his and squeezing. Only for a second — not even, only for a breath — and really just to let him know that you’re okay to stand on your own, but Jihoon feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted straight up his arm all the same. “You don’t come to play, do you?”

“Says you,” he scoffs, only now moving his hand from your upper arm. “I was wrong about you — you’re insane. Clinically insane.” 

Using the paper towels he went to gather while you were finishing up, he wipes the machine clean as you stretch out your now slightly exercise-swollen thighs. 

“I was just gonna finish up on one of the stairmasters,” you tell him, taking a long sip of your water. His eyes widen to the point of comedy, eyebrows high on his forehead. You snicker at his horror, the rim of your bottle hovering tantalisingly over your bottom lip. “What?”

“That’s-… got to be a form of masochism,” he says, exhausted just at the idea of marching up the never ending staircase even for a minute. You almost choke on your mouthful of water, only just swallowing it in time before a sudden, uncontrollable laugh erupts from your chest. 

“How?!” you ask, covering your mouth with your hand. Just like yesterday, the urge to pull your arm away, to reveal your hidden smile strikes him. He doesn’t act on it, but he wants to.

“What do you mean, how? Why would you put yourself through that after what you’ve just done?” It’s completely lighthearted, and the rush of heat on your cheeks intensifies at the cocktail of shock and awe in his gaze.

You shrug your shoulders once. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just better than you.” The way the tip of your tongue teasingly sits between your teeth as you grin at him sends bullets of adrenaline through his veins and Jihoon runs his hand over his face.

For about three seconds, he tells himself he isn’t going to take the bait. He’ll lose, he’ll admit it — he’ll put his hands up and say you’re absolutely, definitely better than he is, if it means he doesn’t have to push through a round of cardio after surpassing every single one of his physical limits. But God, he thinks you look completely irresistible standing there challenging him like this, your hands on your hips. His eyes don’t leave yours and yours don’t leave his; both of your chests stutter, just a little bit, and he can see your smile grow in his periphery.

How the fuck is he supposed to walk away?

“Ten minutes,” he concedes, matching your footsteps as you start to walk backwards towards his least favourite line of equipment in any gym, ever. “And you’re definitely getting the next coffee, now.”

——————

That Friday, you finally text him again.

His muscles have just about returned to a working state and Jihoon is quite proud to say that he has regained the ability to sit down without needing something to hold onto. He got home from work, showered the day away and has just settled down into the sofa to start on the book Wonwoo has been on his ass about reading when his phone vibrates on the side table. He reaches over for it, trying to figure out which of his friends might be trying to get hold of him early evening on a Friday, and already going over excuses in his head as to why he can’t go out to do whatever they’re inviting him to. But when your contact name flashes up on the screen, every single thought disappears from his brain.

y/n: hey :)

y/n: just out of interest, how good are you at assembling furniture?

He furrows his brows at this. There’s a very obvious answer, which is that he’s not. He doesn’t want to reply saying so, though, so he goes for what he thinks is the next best thing.

jh: well…

jh: what are you trying to put together?

y/n: a bed :(

y/n: today’s your rest day, right?

y/n: can i bribe you with dinner after? :)

Oh? His brain stalls, fingers hovering over the keypad. He can literally see your face forming a little pout before growing into a hopeful grin in his mind’s eye. He doesn’t see how he could ever say no. 

jh: apparently yes, you can.

jh: text me the address? i’ll leave in 5.

He changes out of his basketball shorts and hoodie in record time, abandoning Wonwoo’s book on his couch in favour of attempting to look at least somewhat presentable for you. He tugs on a pair of jeans that he hasn’t touched in about 6 months and one of his nicer t-shirts instead, even going as far as to spritz aftershave on the column of his throat. You’ve sent him your address and he makes to leave, doing his regular essential item pat-down on his way out the door. He puts your new apartment into his phone as he crosses the parking lot, stupidly delighted to discover it’s only 7 and a half minutes away from where he lives, and settles into his car with a series of deep exhales.

The breathing exercises don’t achieve much. His head is still spinning when he parks up in the street by your new place and lingers just outside the building. He sends you a text to say he’s arrived and you reply saying you’re on your way down. You appear in the lobby just a few minutes later.

“Hey,” you greet him warmly, crossing the space and putting your arms around him in a hug. He goes limp for a fraction of a second before his arms slide around you, too. God, he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat right now. He thinks that the effect you have on him should be considered dangerous. But whether you can or not, you tighten your arms to squeeze him once before you unwind them from around his neck and step away. 

“Hi,” he says, feverish from the tops of his ears all the way down to his toes. His hands find his pockets as you take a few more polite steps back.

“Thank you so much for this.” Your bottom lip finds temporary home between your teeth before you’re nodding back towards the stairwell. “I’m on the third floor. Follow me.”

He does. He walks up the stairs behind you as you ask about his day at work, and he tells you that he thinks today has probably been one of the best he’s had in about 2 months. When he asks how your day went, you turn your head back to look at him and stumble on the next step, gently laughing and saying that you think you’re at your tether’s end with D.I.Y, but it’s been pretty good otherwise. By the time you reach your floor, his thighs are aching, a bit of residual fatigue from your session earlier in the week making it a little harder than it ought to be. He can’t imagine how you’ve coped every day since then; if his own building didn’t have an elevator, Jihoon thinks he’d have been sleeping in his car.

You give him a little tour of the apartment, and he stands next to you at the window as you point out where you were staying with your friend a few blocks away. He thinks the view is seriously pretty in the evening light, enchanted by how he can see the tops of the slightly lower buildings and the street below, lined with neon storefronts and currently alive with shoppers and bar-goers, but… He cringes at himself for thinking it, but the view through the glass is nothing compared to the one he has inside. 

You’ve started to put up a few decorations and knick-knacks around the place too. He doesn’t know you very well, but he still thinks it’s very you — all of it, and he likes them. Even with the room full of boxes and half-unpacked cases, there’s so much personality in it already. Charm. He brushes off your attempts to apologise for the ‘mess’, as you called it, despite everything being neatly pushed out of the way of the main space. It’s easily tidier than any other mid-move apartment he’s ever been in. 

“Did you want a drink?” you ask him, walking over to the refrigerator and resting a hand on the door. “I’ve got wine, or-… anything, really.” 

“Just some water would be great,” he says appreciatively, and a few seconds later you’re handing him a bottle, turning another one over in your hand. “I really wouldn’t be much help after a couple of glasses, trust me.”

“Does this mean you are good at it, then? Before a drink?” you ask him. Is it hope in your voice? Or do you somehow know how hopeless he is, and are you teasing? He can’t tell. Regardless, clearly his evasion earlier wasn’t quite as successful as he hoped it would be.

“About that…” He chuckles, taking a sip from the bottle and glancing sideways at you. “I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you say with a laugh, closing your fingers around his wrist and leading him through the door to your bedroom. You’ve managed to separate all of the individual pieces, but you haven’t made any real progress otherwise. He settles himself down on the floor and reaches for the assembly manual, pursing his lips as he looks at the little baggies of screws and bolts and various other things he doesn’t know the names of.

“Okay.” He frowns, looking back up at you where you’ve kneeled down a couple of feet away. You’re grinning innocently back at him, but Jihoon’s lips are more aligned with a pout. “You maybe should have mentioned that the instructions are in Swedish.”

——-

Ignoring the fact that you can’t understand the directions printed on the flimsy little pieces of paper, you get to work. It’s… an interesting process, but somehow between the pair of you, you successfully manage to assemble the bed in just under two hours by mostly following the diagrams (and having to backtrack several times because Jihoon managed to miss a few steps). At three minutes to nine, you’re both finally standing up off the floor, stretching out stiff joints and tight muscles; the bed is fully assembled and made up with your sheets in the centre of the room, headboard against the back wall, the lamp you set on the dresser casting a pleasant orangey glow on every surface.

“We did it,” you say, a little in shock, a lot exhausted, and absolutely starving. At least, that’s what he assumes you’re feeling, because it’s what he is. “We actually did it.”

“I mean, you did most of it,” Jihoon says. It’s true; at a point, he was just handing you the pieces you asked him for and holding parts steady so that you could fit them together. But if you want to call it a joint effort, he isn’t going to stop you, and the roll of your eyes tells him that you do want to call it that. 

“Shh. You helped,” you scold him, bumping his upper arm with your elbow. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“If you say so,” he chuckles, taking another sip of his water. Jihoon isn’t sure he believes you, but the way you’re challenging him to argue further with your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek scrambles his brain. Any remaining argument dies on his lips. “We make a good team.”

“We do,” you agree, expression shifting into a shy smile, bumping his arm again, your elbow lingering against him for a second longer. “Come on, I think I promised to feed you, too. What are you in the mood for?”

A movie has been playing in the background for about an hour by the time your food arrives and you’ve eaten everything. Jihoon relaxes back against the cushions of the couch and you’re settled comfortably next to him: there’s plenty of space on either side of you both, so there isn’t really any need for you to have your upper arm basically pressing against his, but Jihoon is too comfortable to say anything and you certainly aren’t making any attempts to move away. You shift your legs after about ninety minutes, bringing them up underneath you so your thigh is pressed against his now, as well, and you’re twisted slightly so you’re physically facing him but your head is still turned towards the TV.

Everywhere your clothed body touches him is scorching, and he wonders if maybe he should’ve worn a thinner t-shirt, or at the very least something a little less heavy on his legs. His jeans, slightly tighter around the thighs than perhaps would be their peak level of comfort, are clinging to him everywhere and he’s so aware of himself, so aware of you, of your sweet body wash, your fruity shampoo, every single one of your breaths… He’s cursed people out for breathing too loudly around him before, but he thinks he could replace his white noise machine with an eight hour track of just this and he would sleep like a fucking baby.

One of your elbows is propped against the top of the cushions behind you and you’re resting your head in your palm, and (not for the first time this evening) he glances sideways to look at you. They’ve been fleeting glances thus far, only stealing fractions of a moment before he turns his attention back to the TV. But this? This is the wrong moment. Entirely the wrong fucking moment because as his head turns, so does yours, and you catch him in the act. Fuck, if he thought he was burning up, before? He’s pretty sure he’s somehow just descended straight to the second circle of hell, greeting all the other lusty sinners like old friends. Several of his thoughts tonight have been considerably impure, and in this half second of blistering eye contact, they all come rushing back.

The universe is really testing him this evening, and Jihoon is stumbling. It feels like any minute now, he’s going to explode.

He straightens his spine and looks back at the TV, trying to force his eyes to focus even though he’s completely swallowed by the feeling of your arm straightening across the back of the couch, your fingertips grazing over the skin at the bottom of his hairline. He can feel your eyes still on him, your gaze burning into his cheek, no doubt following as his tongue darts out subconsciously over his lips. But he can’t quite help himself, can’t get the image of how sweet you looked out of his head; he clears his throat quietly and looks over at you again, coming over almost completely blank the second he notices the glimmer your eyes hold when they’re trained on him. 

Any. Fucking. Minute. 

“Jihoon, I-…” you start to say, and he turns himself a little bit so that he’s facing you better, completely forgetting about the movie now. That’s not a great loss: he couldn’t explain the plot even if he tried. “I don’t know if-… you can tell me if I’ve read you wrong…”

“You haven’t,” he hurries. Relief starts to ease the tension between your brows, before you scrunch them again and cock your head to the side. “I’m sure you haven’t, I mean.”

In this new position, one of his legs is bent and sitting up on the couch beneath him and you’ve adjusted your own posture to accommodate. Your knee sits just over the top of his, more of your impossible body heat radiating through his clothes, and he glances down at the site of contact before he looks back at you. 

“I just-... I don’t know, I think I knew I was interested in you from the first time I saw you, but the last few weeks especially…” You’ve been rehearsing this. He can feel it. It’s written in your eyes, holding the weight of the words you’re struggling to say, and behind them he can see cogs turning as you try to get the words in the right order. (He knows how that goes, because he’s been trying to figure out how to tell you, too.) He nods, urging you to keep going.

“I can’t get you out of my head. I really like you.”

He short-circuits, then. Even though part of him knew what you were going to say, hearing it out loud flips a switch inside him and he stops functioning. Blinking at you slowly, lips parted, heart racing – he feels as if his brain has been sucked clean out of his ears and is floating somewhere way above his head. Way outside of a contactable range, way beyond any level of rational decision-making. Jihoon knows what he wants to say, of course – he knows that he wants to say that he likes you, and that he has for a while, and that maybe you should let him take you out on a date or something, but all of that sits just behind the barrier of his teeth, so…

He leans forward and kisses you, instead.

He almost can’t believe that he’s only wanted this for as short of a time as he has; it feels like it’s been building inside him for so much longer. Relief floods through his veins, the emotional dam finally breaching. It only lasts a few seconds, but with his lips pressed to yours and yours pressing back, the static in his brain goes quiet, the movie falls silent: everything stops, except you. He thinks you could’ve been carved from stone around each other — he thinks something just feels so inexplicably right. Your hand tightens in his hair and he gasps softly as he pulls an inch back, eyes heavily lidded and looking straight at you through his lashes. You move forward, leaning your forehead against his, and the feather-light hold he has on your chin slides up to your cheek instead. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to-…” he says after a long, long moment of remembering how to breathe, how to blink, how to exist in your space without combusting on the spot. He still isn’t sure he knows how to do any of those things, especially not now he can see every single line of your face this close. He’s trying, though. “But — shit, I’m crazy about you.”

You kiss him, then, harder than before, colliding in a mess of half-finished breaths and bumped, stinging noses. His other hand comes up to sit against your rib cage, yours pressing into the material of his t-shirt over his chest. He smiles and parts his lips as yours move against them, your tongue gently sweeping into his mouth, finding his own; a soft, low moan tickles the back of his throat, his fingertips curling slightly to tighten his hold. 

Jihoon isn’t sure how you end up on your knees, straddled astride his legs with one of his hands tucked between your thigh and calf, the other on the curve of your ass — he just knows that he doesn’t mind one bit. You’re warm and comfortable, the arch of your back pressing you into him deliciously. He’s kissing you like his life depends on it (he really fears that it might), and you’re doing the same back, licking against his tongue and rocking slightly with every separation and reconnection of your lips. He feels your fingers brush at the hem of his t-shirt and slip just underneath at the same moment as you pull away from him, and he’s so dazed, so fuzzy, so lost in you that he can only tilt his head back to stare up at your face. In your current position, you’re towering over him. It’s easily the best view he’s ever had.

“Can I-…?” you ask breathlessly. The new roughness to your voice goes straight to his cock and he has to restrain himself from bucking his hips upwards.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward slightly to try and aid you. Your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt and peel it up over his chest: he raises his arms slightly and soon, you can toss it to the unoccupied side of the couch. He shivers slightly as he relaxes back, both at the chill in your unheated apartment and upon noticing the way you’re staring down at him. It’s addictive. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper, jaw a little slack, smoothing your hands over his shoulders to feel every ridge of hard-earned muscle. You travel down his arms, over to his chest, down his stomach… Jihoon sucks in a breath, your warm hands absolutely searing against his skin, and his abdominals tighten beneath them. Tilting your head, you press a line of kisses down the side of his neck, your lips brushing against one almost unbearably sensitive spot when you continue. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He smiles bashfully, rolling his head to the side and giving you all the access you want. Your lips tickle euphorically against him as he tugs you flush against his chest, both his hands now tightly pressing against your ass, fingers kneading the muscle concealed by your pants. You’re sitting right over his clothed cock and he’s reasonably sure he can feel your pulse between your thighs, letting out a soft grunt when you roll your hips deliberately down into his own. Your kisses travel to the swell at the curve of his shoulder before moving back up to his lips, where he meets you with a fire that he’s never kissed anyone with, before.

“Says you,” he murmurs into your mouth, your teeth clashing, his hips pushing slightly up off the couch. Just enough to make you sit back from him, just enough for Jihoon to open his eyes and look at you. His hair, thoroughly scrunched up and pulled around by your desperately gripping fingers, fans out at all sorts of angles and his chest has taken on a rosy hue since you last looked at it. With swollen, shiny lips, glossy eyes, breathing deep, he looks completely blissed out, like a man who could unravel beneath you if you moved just right. All from a little tongue action. He’d usually feel embarrassed, but it’s hard to when you’re the person on top of him; to be honest, neither of you would mind much if he did.

You’re pushing yourself up and off him before he can really get his bearings and an audible whine of despair parts his lips at the loss of your weight against his cock. Fuck, these jeans were a bad idea: he’s straining against the denim so much that it hurts, and there’s a near perfect outline of his hard-on. He stops pouting the second you take hold of his hand and tug him upright, though, your eyes dark and determined and intense. He thinks he might faint, actually: from standing too fast and feeling as though all the blood in his body is pulsing through his aching dick, he has to take a moment to stop the edges of his vision going dark before you’re pulling him through to your bedroom.

Something flips inside him the second you have him there. Jihoon, who was more than happy to sit beneath you and let you take all the control in the living room, is pushing you back onto the mattress by your shoulder and slotting himself between your parted thighs the moment the door is closed behind him. He’s past the point of wanting you, now: he needs you, and he needs you to need him, too. 

And God, do you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, staring at where he’s now leaning over you with wide eyes and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. He bends down and kisses along your jawline in response, nipping gently just below your ear. Your back arches up and in a flash, one of his hands is beneath you, snapping open the clasp on your bra with a few slides of his fingers.

“Wh-…” you start, giggling and panting at the same time. He smirks against your pulse point. 

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a salty bead of sweat off your skin. “What?”

“Had no idea you could-…” You’re cut off by a gasp as one of his hands slides under your sweater, slipping beneath the garment he just unfastened. His fingertips graze over your breast and a pleading sob escapes you. His smile grows even wider. “You were so…”

“So what?” he prompts, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Another one of those beautiful sounds breaks the air above you. He does it again, massaging your breast with the palm of his hand. “Come on… talk to me.”

“So good,” you gasp, lying down flat and tilting your head back against the pillows. He rocks forwards to press his cock against you again and your thighs tighten around his hips, one leg hooking around his to keep him there. “So-… fucking good.”

You’re so impossibly irresistible to him, especially like this, and he sits up, settling on his knees to look down at you. Jihoon doesn’t even get the chance to move his hands towards the hem of your sweater to tug it off you though: you’re already grabbing it yourself, crossing your arms to pull it over the top of your head. He can see your bra now, and hell, it’s pretty even if it is just hanging off you. Baby pink and lacy. He thumbs over the material as he helps you pull it down your arms, briefly letting himself wonder if-…

“If only you’d been patient enough to see the set together.”

Oh, so you can read his mind now, too? 

You glance down to the small space between your bodies and his eyes follow, lips slightly parted, a heavy sigh on his breath. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck — he wishes he had. Even imagining it, he’s throbbing.

“You wear all this for me?” he asks, hands creeping up the insides of your thighs. You nod up at him and he smiles down at you. “Fuck. I bet you didn’t even need my help tonight at all, did you?”

You’re bucking your hips now as his thumb brushes, agonisingly slowly, over your clothed cunt. One arm has come up to cover your face: for the first time, he acts on his impulsive need to see you shy, see you needy, and leans over you to gently pull it away and pins your wrist down against the mattress. He kisses you, his fingers on the other hand pressing slightly more firmly to where he’s pretty sure your clit is.

“Y/n, you’re so pretty. Let me see you.”

“I didn’t,” you admit, voice wobbling as he works you up so much you’re actually soaking through not just your pretty underwear, but the leggings you’ve had on all night, too. He can feel it against the pad of his thumb and he raises his eyebrows for you to continue. “Just… really wanted you to come over…”

“Mhm. I know,” he soothes, bending low again and kissing down towards your chest. His lips purse over one of your nipples and he sucks it up into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud. He releases your wrist with the hand currently taking most of his weight and leans on his elbow, teasing your other tit with his fingers. The weight of it in his palm has him murmuring soft praises against your skin, telling you over and over how good you feel. You push up onto your elbows to try and press him closer — when his teeth tug just slightly, you’re about ready to beg.

“Jihoon, please,” you murmur. He short-circuits, again. Goes blank. His name has always sounded so much sweeter on your tongue, but this? This? Oh, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to recover. That sound is going to stick in his head for days, months, forever, if he has anything to say about it. But even if his brain isn’t working, his body moves on autopilot: he sits up and hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your pants down your legs and discarding them onto the floor. 

He’s staring between your thighs with zero functioning brain cells and literal galaxies in his eyes, trying to figure out what cosmic miracle brought someone like you into his life, how on Earth he’s ended up between your thighs. The question is so overwhelming in his mind that he barely notices that you’re moving, at first. Jihoon doesn’t know what causes you to try and bring your thighs together — if it’s shyness or arousal, desperation, a search for friction? — but he stops you as soon as he realises, laying a hand on each of your legs, pinning your knees down now, instead.

“Keep your legs wide for me?” he asks, to which you punctuate a nod with an assenting hum. “Good girl.” 

You’re so wet that when he strokes two fingers over your covered pussy, pressing the fabric of your panties into your heat, they come away thinly coated in the arousal that’s seeped through them. He brings his fingers to his lips then, eyes fluttering as he licks your slick off them. You taste otherworldly and he doesn’t hesitate to tell you so with a groan.

“God,” he murmurs, tugging at the waistband of your panties with his other hand. His eyes ask if you’re ready — if you’re sure, and when you nod down at him, he pulls them off completely too. His middle finger slips between your folds, collecting the wetness dribbling out of you, and he drags it slowly upwards towards your clit. He repositions himself again, leaning down over you with his head at your neck, the heel of his hand resting against your lower abdomen. He draws small circles over the bud, laying open-mouthed kisses at your collarbone and listening to the gorgeous sounds you make, learning what you like, following each gasp and moan and chasing as many of them as he can draw out of you.   

At the same time as you start rocking your hips up to meet his hand, your nails scratching gently against his scalp again, Jihoon slips his finger down from your swollen clit to press it inside you. You gasp, high-pitched and needy, your cunt spasming around his finger and pulling it in deeper. He’s only in up to his second knuckle but the way you keen for him has him pushing further until it’s buried inside your pussy completely. 

“S’this okay?” he asks, but he knows your answer thanks to your vocal responses to him already slowly easing his finger in and out, in and out. You nod your head almost aggressively as he glances up at your face, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, jaw tense, throat bobbing as you swallow hard. 

“More — please,” you say not long after. A breath hitches in your throat when he does exactly what you ask, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit and positioning another finger at your entrance. He flexes his wrist slightly to get comfortable, pumping both fingers into you now, and he curls them upwards at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed. “Fuck — mhm, just like that—…”

He moves down your body slightly, reattaching his lips to one of your nipples as he fingers you deep and slow. He’s in no rush: Jihoon thinks he could do this all day and just deal with the RSI later on. You look so unbelievably hot with your face scrunched in pleasure, your thighs quivering as you fight to keep them apart like he asked you to, with your hips twisting down against his hand to try and get his fingers deeper and faster. When he lowers himself all the way down, settling completely between your thighs, he flicks his tongue out over your clit and your back arches up off the bed with a gasp.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, all high-pitched and rushed, both syllables merging into one hurried sound. “Fuck, fuck — please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to,” he murmurs, keeping pace and rhythm as he works you towards your high. God, he thinks there couldn’t possibly be anything in the world more sexy than watching you come undone from this angle. Your chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths, your hips rocking down against his hand, your pussy right on his mouth. Just the thought of it has his cock jumping in his boxers. “You gonna come for me, huh?”

“I-…” you start, releasing your death-grip on the bedsheets to bring a hand to cover your face. He clears his throat deliberately — perhaps it’s sort of closer to a growl than a cough — and he thinks maybe you really can read his mind, or maybe you’re learning that he wants to see every inch of you (especially like this), because a second later, it’s tangled up in his hair and holding him in place. “Y-yeah, fuck, I…”

“Good girl,” he coos again, and that breaks you. Your pussy tightens around his fingers and you feel yourself convulse, muscles clenching and releasing as you go over the edge with a cry. He eases you through your climax, tongue laving over your clit, fingers slowing but not stopping inside your cunt until your thighs close around his head in your oversensitivity. He takes the hint, then, and he slowly pulls away, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal while you take a few breaths to recover.

“Oh, my God,” you sigh as he moves back up and starts pressing small pecks over your chest and collarbones, your fingers lacing through his hair again to pull him up to kiss you. You groan softly at the taste of yourself on his lips, and can’t blame you. He still isn’t over it, either.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you in-between kisses, one hand supporting the back of your neck to keep you close. “So pretty. So sweet. So good.”

“Shh,” you giggle, but he doesn’t. Just about every adoring adjective Jihoon has in his arsenal is murmured against your lips until you’ve gathered enough strength to get up on your knees and push him back onto the mattress, fumbling with the button of his jeans. 

He groans at the relief as you tug them down over his hips and thighs. “We don’t have to do anything else if you’re—”

“Shh.” This one’s a little more insistent, and he makes a show of clamping his lips back together. “You wore the tightest jeans on the planet, had your cock on-fucking-display for me all evening, and you think I wanna stop now?”

His jaw falls slack at the words that come out of your mouth. The incredulous way with which you say them has him involuntarily bucking up into nothing. Your expression matches his when you finally get his jeans all the way off and his thin, black boxer-briefs are the only barrier between you. The outline of his cock strains against them, tenting the fabric: Jihoon doesn’t miss the way you lick over your lips before glancing up at him through your eyelashes. It’s your turn to give him the look, now, asking that this last part is okay, with your fingertips hooked underneath the elastic waistband. He nods feverishly up at your heavy gaze.

“Please,” he groans, lifting his hips so you can pull them off. His length springs free the moment they’re pulled low enough, slapping back against his abdomen, sitting pretty against his toned muscles, thick and veiny and red-tipped. Desperate. His underwear joins the pile of clothes down the side of the bed as you throw one leg over him; sitting across his thighs, you take his cock into your hand, giving it a few gentle strokes. He fucks up into your palm when you squeeze your fingers around it.

“I need you so fucking bad,” you murmur, head spinning, and Jihoon isn’t in much of a better state himself; he’s fighting to keep his eyes open, fighting to keep his breaths coming. He sits upright, one arm behind him for support, and kisses you hard as you continue to tug at his length. 

“Need you, too,” he breathes, shifting so he has both arms around you. In a swift movement, muscles rippling, he lifts you off him and turns you over so he has you sitting on your now impossibly scrunched comforter.

He finds home back between your legs as you reach over into the drawer at your bedside and fumble around for a few seconds. He hears a little clatter and a rustling and when your hand resurfaces, you’ve pulled free a small foil square. You don’t even give him a chance to lean forward and take it; you’re ripping it open and looking up at him with the biggest doe-eyed stare he thinks he’s ever seen. He nods at the silent question, a grunt tumbling free as you roll the condom down his length. This is the most pathetic little bit of contact and he’s fighting demons.

“Okay?” he asks, shuffling back a little and giving you space to lie down flat on your back. You nod up at him, already wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Mhm, just-... take it slow?” you ask him, anticipation rendering you already a little breathless. “S’been a while.” 

A grin blooms all the way from his lips to his eyes and he leans down to kiss you again, positioning his tip at your hole and pressing forward just enough to tease.

Your thighs tighten around his hips and he pushes himself further inside you with a stuttered groan, agonisingly slowly, inch by inch. He stills every few seconds, both to give you the time to adjust and so that he can take a steadying few breaths and not collapse at how good you feel wrapped around him; he stops pressing his hips forward before he’s fully sheathed inside your pussy and you let a whine slip, the stretch slowly easing. 

“You can move,” you tell him, laying a kiss to his chest. “I’m okay.” 

Jihoon gives a soft laugh. Oh, he wishes this was just to be polite, but no. He’s in real danger of losing control any second. “Yeah, this isn’t for you, baby.”

“Oh?” you ask. You clamp around him and he gasps at the tightness, hips jerking forward until he’s buried up to the hilt. Fuck, there’s a bruised cervix if you’ve ever had one; a high-pitched whine erupts out of your lips and he ducks his head down to your ear.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You just-... fuck, you feel so good.”

“Mm, says you.” 

It’s another moment before he thrusts with intent, though. But when he does? When he pulls out halfway before sliding all the way back inside you, losing and regaining the feeling of your heat enveloping him entirely, hearing your gasps against his collarbone? The invisible reigns holding him back unravel and he settles into a slow but intensely deep rhythm, guiding your legs around his waist. You hook your ankles behind his back and somehow, you suck him in deeper still, your bodies touching everywhere they possibly can, so impossibly close.

The arm not holding his weight slides beneath your hips and raises them just a little. Now, at this angle, every time he rolls into you he grazes against your sweet-spot and you’re reduced to an incoherent mess within a few minutes. Good, he thinks, because he’s not doing much better, himself.

You hug him tighter after one particularly well-angled thrust, sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. He hisses at the sting, and your lips part as if you’re about to apologise but he doesn’t give you the chance to; he bumps your nose with his own to ask you to lift your head slightly, before he bends down and kisses you hard.

“Do that again,” he gasps, almost all of his weight against you as the hand not around your hips comes up to rest on your cheek. When your brows tighten, he swipes his thumb over your spit-covered, swollen lips. “Please. ”

So, you do.

Maybe not as harshly as the first time, but your teeth find his collarbone and you suck a bruise into his skin, drawing from him the highest pitched sound you think he could possibly make. He squares his jaw, ducking his head back down, biting on his bottom lip before he has no choice but to speak.

“I’m close, y/n,” he confesses, fucking into you slower, trying to stave it off for a few more seconds, his hips stuttering. “Can-... can you give me one more…?”

You nod, the knot in your stomach already growing tighter and tighter with every movement he makes, and when one of your hands unwinds from around his back to slide between your sweat-slicked bodies, he moves slightly away, letting you reach down.

It’s the sight of two of your fingers finding your clit and rubbing your favourite movements out on yourself that takes him past the point of no return, his cock sliding in and out of you messily, desperately, chasing the high that he’s right on the brink of. He kisses and nips just below your ear, breathy groans tickling your neck, and your high-pitched whine tells him you’ve hit your orgasm just as he starts to spill his into the condom, gushing around him, your walls fluttering and milking him for all he’s worth. 

—

You offer for him to shower first – an offer he gratefully accepts. While you’re taking your turn afterwards, Jihoon hunts down a fresh duvet cover in your room; he changes it, grabs you a glass of water for when you’re done, and sits on the edge of his bed with just the towel wrapped around his waist, scrolling through his phone. He looks up with a bright grin as the door opens and you emerge through it in your pyjamas, glowing from the light behind you, stray droplets of water clinging to your arms. 

You pause gently rubbing your hair dry with the towel, eyes brightening when you see him. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, and he pushes a hand through his own still damp hair with a laugh.

“It was the least I could do,” he counters. You raise your eyebrows at him, crossing the room to sit opposite him. He drops his phone down onto the mattress. “I couldn’t leave and make you change them yourself.”

“Leave?” you ask, picking up one of his hands and playing idly with his fingers. 

“I mean, it’s getting pretty late, so…” he says. “I probably need to get going at some point.”

“Or…” you say, tongue darting out over your lips. “Maybe you don’t.”

Jihoon looks down at your hands, then back up at you. Are you suggesting what he thinks you are, or has he still not quite come back to himself from earlier? It’s hard to say if the look on your face is hope, or something else.

“Are you… asking me to stay?” he asks. 

“Only if you want to,” you tell him. He lifts your hands up, pressing a kiss to one of your knuckles, then using it to tug you closer to him until he can plant one on your own lips. “I’ve probably got an old t-shirt you could sleep in.”

“Of course I want to.”

So you slip away from him to go rummaging through your drawers, trying to find the promised article of clothing. The whole time, he’s awestruck. Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you.

——————

He wakes up next to you for the first time on a Saturday morning. His sleep-fogged brain registers lying on an unfamiliar mattress, tucked beneath new bedsheets, eyes fluttering open to take in a room he doesn’t quite recognise at first. Part of him wonders if he’s still dreaming. When he rolls over onto his side, and his eyes land on the curve of your shoulders, the fall of your hair down your back, he has to ask himself the same thing again. 

All of last night must’ve been a dream, he muses, smiling shyly to himself and watching your frame rise and fall with every slow breath you take. There’s no way you really told him you liked him, too. There’s no way any of it could have really happened.

“Y/n?” He asks in the gentlest of whispers, only wanting to stir you if you’re awake already. When there’s no response, he moves a tiny bit closer to you, hesitating before he slips his arm around your waist and settles with his chest pressed against your back. A wildly insecure part of his brain tries to argue that just because you wanted what happened last night, that doesn’t mean you want all of this now. Maybe you only wanted to sleep with him, or maybe you’ll have changed your mind somehow now the sun’s come up. He considers moving away again, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling until you wake up and he can have a real conversation about where both of your heads are at with everything, but he barely gets a chance.

Those thoughts are silenced almost immediately, his brain falling quiet the second you roll over in his arms. You bury your head in the valley between his pectorals, tucked away from the world beneath his chin. His arms tighten around your sleep-warmed body.

“What time is it?” You ask. He contains a shiver at the softness of your voice, bliss running the length of his spine. Jihoon thinks that he could get used to this.

“I don’t know. Early, I think,” he murmurs, and you whine softly, burrowing deeper against his chest. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not if you’re awake,” you say. He’s not entirely convinced you can stick to that promise, though, with the way you yawn and he feels your eyelashes fluttering. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, the tips of his fingers ticking against your side. He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your hair. A soft hum rumbles in your throat and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads over his lips. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

True enough, you fall back asleep curled up against him and Jihoon, to the sounds of your slowing breaths, drifts off too. A few hours later, at a far more reasonable time, you wake him up with a press of your lips to the tip of his nose.

Innocent, exploratory kisses grow heated in the warmth of the sun that streams through your blinds. Hands start to travel, sleep clothes get discarded, and you have him lying on his back, pressing kisses down his chiselled stomach when his phone starts to vibrate on the floor next to the bed.

He groans at the distraction, again as you shuffle up to sit on your knees and look at him expectantly. 

“Are you gonna answer that?” you ask, the tips of your fingers grazing his thighs. He shakes his head, no. “Come on, Jihoon. It might be important.”

“Not important enough,” he sighs. 

“At least see who it is,” you laugh. Despite a huffed protest, he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over the side of the bed and glancing down at his phone screen.

Seungcheol.

The arrangement to go for a run this morning comes rushing back to Jihoon, who slaps a hand to his forehead and reaches down to grab his phone off the floor, looking at you apologetically.

“Give me two seconds,” he says, and you grin wickedly up at him, ducking low to press a kiss to one of the lines that disappears down into his boxers. 

“Take all the time you need.”

He answers the call frowning, flopping his head back against the pillows. 

“Hey, look – I’m really sorry,” he starts to say, but Seungcheol’s voice cuts him off almost straight away.

“Jihoon, where the hell are you? I got to your apartment and your car wasn’t here, and Seokmin said he didn’t hear you come home last night. We all thought you’d died,” he hurries. Jihoon can picture the expression on the other man’s face perfectly, which is pretty unfortunate seeing as how you’ve moved to start palming his hardening cock through his briefs.

“I stayed out,” Jihoon says, a little wobbly. “I can’t make the run, someth-... shit.” You press an open-mouthed kiss to the outline of his length, the heat of your breath through the fabric sending him into overdrive. “Something came up-...”

The line goes silent for a second, and his breath stutters as you do the same thing again. Each press of your lips is euphoric agony, and he’s really not hiding this as well as he wishes he could. One look down at you tells him that you’re very proud of that.

“Dude,” Seungcheol gasps, snickering suddenly. “Tell me you’re not with a girl right now.”

“Shut up. Go away,” Jihoon grunts. “I’ll call you later.”

“Oh my God, is it gym girl? Did you finally-...”

“Bye, Cheol,” he hurries, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He drops his phone onto the mattress, fake-glaring down at you and shaking his head. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pulling at the waistband of his briefs to tug them down his legs. “Let me make it up to you, huh?”

[freckliedan]

could you expand on your thoughts why you think dan and phil havent always been monogamous? super curious! i kind of get the same vibe.

i'm happy to expand on it tbh! it's something i think and talk a lot about with my friends.

i'm hesitant about going in depth because i've found that's when people find it okay to say deeply shitty things to me, a polyamorous person, under the guise of academic debate/it just being a difference of opinion. but i'm also not going to let the possibility of that stop me?

ANYWAYS.

quite honestly the biggest thing for me is just. taking dan and phil at their word? even when parsing something true through them saying things in silly ways that's the easiest way to be right about them.

we noticed and believed in the underlying truth in their gay jokes before they were out. people are willing to entertain the bondage and mpreg and various other horny jokes as containing some kernel of truth. more people than literally any point in time are willing to believe there's some substance to dan's career-long mentions of gender.

but for whatever reason (mononormativity) the comments about them being attracted to/flirting with/being interested in other people get written off as 100% joking and funny because they're the most monogamous people ever & because they get jealous easily. and that just? sucks.

i think they've always been committed. like, phil brought dan home to meet his parents at their very first christmas together type committed. planning to spend the rest of their lives together from 3 months into the relationship committed.

but also like? that coexists with the fact that dan wasn't able to come out to himself as gay until the lead up to basically i'm gay. 2018 or maybe 2017, i think. @freckliephil or @phulge has brought up the idea to me before that part of why they didn't label their relationship to us in 2019 may have been because they were still in flux with labeling it for themselves.

dan has also always had commitment issues due to how he saw his parents' relationship function/due to his home life growing up and i'm NOT going to elaborate on this one but it is so obvious.

(consider this whole post informed by conversations with aries and roper btw).

i think the idea that dan and phil were secure in their connection but not in a place where they had to (or could, on dan's part) ascribe labels to it in the early years is realistic?

and i think their commitment and security can coexist with the idea of like. "i think it's hot seeing you kiss other people for attention at parties and come home with me". + i genuinely think the fantastic foursome explored each other's bodies on the italy trip. etc.

i definitely think there would've been huge stretches of monogamy, and i do think that there was jealousy before they found their footing and felt comfortable in their commitment. (different rant, but i think most of what gets read as jealousy these days is them dong a bit/possessiveness).

but i think there's also always been points in time where they were either theoretically or in practice fine with having sexual experiences with other people. that wouldn't've really been possible during their deep closet era, and i don't think it was COMMON beforehand.

but i also think that it's definitely something possible after they came out.

i think people hear me say this and assume i'm degrading the incredible and beautiful love and commitment dan and phil share. that i'm reducing queer men's relationships down to sex only.

but like. i'm not fucking doing that! the people making those assumptions are doing that! and saying a lot about how they view non monogamy too!

i'm saying i think they're so secure in their love and relationship that they're literally completely unbothered and not threatened by potentially having an open relationship. devotion is not only present in monogamous relationships.

WAD makes sense as a point of post coming out timing for another open period in their relationship to me. quite honestly i could see phil being the one to suggest it to dan? 2019 thru the close of WAD was dan's self actualization era.

growing up in the context of a single committed relationship does things to you psychologically. your identity formation happens side by side with another person and even if the relationship isn't controlling and toxic you can really lose sight of your individuality, if you're not careful. this is even easier to have happen if you share all of your friends, live together, AND work together. ESPECIALLY if you're significantly closeted in some way.

i know this because i've also lived it. believe me when i say dan NEEDED to figure out who he was as an individual. we saw him do that in several iterations artistically/careerwise. but we also saw his interest in experiencing queer culture in ways he missed out on when he was young and closeted.

so i think dan actually WAS on the apps, when he was touring WAD. i wouldn't be surprised if that was phil's idea, even. a "don't worry, go see the world, we've been open before, i'm not worried you won't want to come home to me, nobody's gonna match your freak like i do". i think phil would've had the option too but probably would've taken it less.

and i think it's like. like they're best friends! it's something they would've been talking about with each other. i think it could've been foreplay to them sometimes. i think it could've been what catapaulted dan into his top era. (this is a seperate essay from drs. frecklie, frecklie and phulge as well).

most importantly we think dan came back from the first leg of WAD having completely exorcised his fear of commitment and. wait i have to find a specific message. nevermind you're getting 3 screenshots without any further context

anyways. i can't find the specific point where we said this so it was maybe an in person conversation but the rest of the idea is that experiencing other options resulted in dan coming back from WAD and proposing. and phil proposing the gaming channel return right back. we 1000% said this before phil mentioned that he's the one who suggested the gaming channel return i just can NOT fucking find receipts on that because we largely voice message.

this has been an entire ramble that touched on a lot of different subjects but. yeah. dan and phil aren't polyamorous in the "both dating another person as a couple/other people as individuals" sense nor will they ever be. but there's sooo much room between that and strict monogamy.

and a lot of that in between is in perfect alignment with the ways they've talked about their lives over the years and is yet another extension of them having a level of trust love and intimacy in their relationship that most people will never experience. so

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[corkinavoid]

I'm curious about "GIW bitches" and "Space Fights," if you wouldn't mind telling me about them.

With pleasure <3

GIW bitches is a variation on 'what happens if GIW captures Danny', but instead or vivisection and experimenting and whatnot, they use Danny, Dani, Dan and Jazz as sort of K9 units. Not exactly a living weapon, but the Fentons are kept under control, kind of like Suicide Squad? The story happens in Gotham, when Undergrowth takes over a part of it, and Bats are forced to work with GIW because their own weapons don't work. I planned to split them up into teams: Bruce and Cass go with Jazz, Tim with Danny, Jason with Dani, and Damian and Dick with Dan. But, eh, right now, I've only written the chapter with Jazz, and then other ideas got me in the chokehold, so it's postponed.

As for Space Fights, that's the one I'm going mad about right now! I don't know if you've seen Sonnie's Edge, the very first episode of Love, Death, and Robots, but it's pretty much that, mixed with some How to Train your Dragon vibes and also maybe Pacific Rim stuff?

Basically, Tim goes on an undercover mission to look into Ra's new business that revolves around beast fights - think underground dog fights, but with genetic experiments. Only it's not just beasts, it's a human controlling a beast through some sci-fi shit. So, Tim goes investigating, but that requires looking from the inside, so he searches for a team that can hire him with no prior experience. He gets into a team called Ghost - Jazz is a biology expert, Tucker is a technical expert, and one of the, um, an operator of the beast, and Sam and Danny are the monsters. Valerie used to be on the same team, but she left just a few days ago, that's why Tuck and Jazz were looking for a new member.

There's a lot happening in there, but it mostly revolves around space sci-fi cyberpunk vibes with the added flavor of overthrowing the rich assholes. I have so many ideas about it, I just hope I have the time to write them all

[decaying-church]

Slasher Nsfw Headcanons

(a/n: pretend I've been posting constantly this year :))

Pairing : Herbert West x male!reader, Vincent Sinclair x male!reader

Requested by @unspeakableoftheoscarwildesorr : Will you do a nsfw headcannons with vincent sinclaire and herbert west? It’s alright if you don’t want to. Please have a good day :))

Warning: bottom!slashers, top!reader, hair pulling, public play, Vincent's conservative upbringing, Vincent writes smut for you, bondage, mentions of chemical burns, getting caught multiple times (slight exhibitionist Herbert) sorry dan, breeding, aftercare

Characters: Herbert West, Vincent Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

He likes it when you watch him work, hovering over his shoulder, sometimes leaning on the table next to him. It makes him nervous, his hands fumbling a bit. If you tell him he was doing good and his brain would shut off.

He loves it when you praise him.

He also likes it when you run your hand over his back, whether you're giving him a massage or just feeling clingy he won't be able to focus on anything but you touching him.

Definitely a virgin when you met, but he knows about the general action of sex. Like the thing goes in the thing and then a baby comes out.

An utterly submissive bottom.

Before you met he figured that if he ever did end up having sex then he’d be the one doing all the work, as men do. (mmmh, conservative, yee-haw upbringing)

But then he met you, and he loved you, and you were both men, so his picture of what sex should be was completely shattered.

If you're generally smaller than him, he’ll try and be dominant. It won't work, the second you flirt with him or make a suggestive comment he goes weak in the knees.

He will make a single attempt at being on top before metaphorically throwing his hands up and going “well I tried”.

If your bigger, there is no attempt, there isn't even a thought of dominance, you were bigger- stronger, therefore you could do whatever you wanted to him and he would not complain (he will never tell you this because he knows you’d tell him otherwise but it honestly added an extra layer of excitement to everything)

The town is pretty empty so the two of you could essentially fuck anywhere.

You once joked about fucking in the middle of the road- and even though you were just joking, the thought of you holding him down on the old road, in front of all those houses, fucking him without a hint of modesty or secrecy genuinely plagued his dreams for several nights.

In reality, you’ve fucked in the gas station, in the movie theater, in the church, and in (or in more risky cases, against) the various houses around town.

Personally, I believe Vincent can talk, he’s just severely traumatized and doesn’t do it often, most days he communicates though groans, gestures, and forms of writing or drawing.

So, sometimes, when he wants you to try someone very specific with him, something too specific for him to say out loud, partially because of humiliation, but also because speaking was difficult for him, he will write it.

And not simple sentences either, he will go on and on about what he wants you to do to him, he’ll draw pictures, he’ll rant on for pages and pages.

The first time he did this you nearly read it out loud, you got about half a sentence in before realizing that no one else (especially Lester, who was just in the next room) needed to hear what he’d written for you.

Of course, with a set of quite specific instructions, you were able to make his every fantasy come true.

Vincent can genuinely go forever, round after round after round.

After years of being a recluse, he has a limit for how long he can go without some kind of stimulation.

Really, finally having someone who wants him and loves him above everybody else makes it a bit harder to continue the streak of celibacy he had before.

He can go about two weeks before he starts outright begging you to fuck him. Again, in great detail.

He doesn't have any prior experience so you'll have to teach him quite a few things.

The first time he asked you to tie him up he brought you some old ratty rope that would have torn his skin the moment things got too intense.

You have to ride out of tow a couple of times for supplies.

He is heartbroken every single time you leave, he always half expects you to just keep driving and never come back.

You always come back, much to Bo’s, who has to put up with Vincent being agiant baby whenever you leave, relief.

(if you ever actually leave Vincent, Bo will hunt you down. Despite everything he does love his brother)

He has a pretty average set of kinks, he likes being praised, tied up, and fucked within an inch of consciousness. He like it when you pull his hair and call him pretty, he likes getting fucked in places he shouldn’t, and he likes it when you leave marks on him.

Aftercare fiend, he’s not a pillow princess but you’d think he was with the way that he’d just lay there, fully fucked out, waiting for you to take care of him.

If you’re someplace where you can’t fully take care of him, (I.e. any other place you’ve fucked outside of your bedroom) he will become extremely flustered. Because that means he has to travel however far away you are from your bedroom in this state. And you could be several houses away or just a couple rooms away but he doesn’t consider either to be more or less embarrassing.

The state he’s in could varies depending on what you did, he could just have ruffled hair and messy clothes, or he could be walking around with a limp with every inch of visible skin covered in bruises.

Herbert West

A very busy man that doesn't like being interrupted while working.

That being said, he will sit on your cock while he's working.

He’ll tease you, act like he’s ready to get his back blown out against his desk, only for him to keep you inside while he works, shifting every so often, fully ignoring how hard he was in favor of chemicals and mildly unethical plans.

You might be able to fully pull him away from work if you give him an explicit rundown of all of the things you were going to do to him.

It'll distract him to the point that he just gives up, grabbing you by the shirt and pulling you in for a kiss.

Most of your “interactions” in his lab were just the two of you humping like animals on the nearest flat surface, which could be anything, a desk, the floor, the wall.

The two of you had so many chemical burns that could have been avoided simply by moving to his bedroom, you think the two off you would learn your lesson after the first time- you didn’t.

Herbert did not care what Dan heard or saw.

This was his house too after all. He could fuck wherever he wanted.

You’ve be caught by Dan an embarrassing amount of times.

Herbert from time to time will treat you like an experiment.

Don’t be surprised if he strips you down and asks to run some “test”

Herbert really, really likes oral.

He loves it when you guide him, one hand in his hair, slowly pulling him back and forth on your cock.

He is not immune to pet names.

Honey, baby, sweetheart, darling. The list goes on.

While he certainly likes those names, nothing captures his attention quite like you calling him “doctor”

This would be extremely inconvenience if you also worked at the hospital (the number of quickies had in closets/labs/bathrooms is downright disposable)

If you don't, you do it purely to tease him.

Leaning in close, telling him all the disgusting things you want to do to him, then just, “come on, Doctor West, don't you think you deserve a break?”

Herbert is definitely a switch with a preference for power bottoming.

He's in control while also getting fucked sideways, it's perfect for him.

When he is feeling fully submissive he will beg you to breed him.

He knows he can't necessarily be bred, but he likes the feeling of you cumming in him over and over.

Every position he likes, he likes for a very specific reason.

He likes missionary because he can leave marks all over your back, he likes being bent over the table so he has something to rest against when his legs inevitably gave out, he liked getting fucked on the wall because he liked how frantic and desperate it felt.

He will not flirt or try and sugarcoat what he wants, he doesn't care who hears, if he wants you to fuck him, he's going to tell you.

Herbert says he doesn’t like slow sex, but there’s been a couple of times when he hits a road block with his research and he’s frustrated and overwhelmed by everything and everyone and he just wants you to make it better.

You can’t necessarily help with the research but you could help him relax.

The way he reacts to aftercare changes drastically throughout your relationship.

When you first got together, he didn’t want you near him, don’t touch him, don’t talk to him, don’t look at him. Even though his legs were shaking violently and his body felt like it was on fire he insisted that he could handle everything himself.

There was somehow always water and food for him though, he figured it was a coincidence (leave him alone, his brain isn’t working at full capacity at the moment)

Further into you’re relationship he will definitely still be a brat about it, but less so. He’ll let you clean him, feed him, praise him. And on some of the more intense days, you’re gonna be carrying him around like a princess.

He “hates it”, but the moment you try and leave him to fend for himself, he gets even more irritated.

If it’s one of those days where you’re both bone tired afterwards then he’ll let you cuddle with him, he won’t initiate it, but he’ll enjoy it .

Kinktober 2023

[mono-dot-jpeg]

too aware - express crew

summary; a self aware kid walks into the express and.. they shock the crew more than a stellaron.

genre/extra tags; headcanons, fluff, slight comedy, the child is aware, the child traumatizes the crew more than anything else /j, they have seen it all, reader is implied to be a vidyadhara

[platonic] [6-7 years old! reader] [gender neutral! reader]

a/n; i have,,, no idea if i'll be writing this correctly at all. honestly it's really reminding me of being really self aware, which i kind of relate to KSDJKSJD, so there will be some of that mostly. i've never really written a character like this. but i hope you enjoy.

also possible spoilers for those who havent reached the xianzhou quests yet. sorry.

what can i even say to start...

let's just say you're a kind of new to the express, you were part of the luofu or at least training to be part of the cloud knights

despite being such an old self-reincarnating species, sometimes you just wanted to start from the beginning, have an empty and open mind to enjoy your curiosities.

you would argue that you were the most cheerful vidyadhara out of the comrades you knew for centuries

but some people knew better

you were sweet, don't get it twisted but when the express crew met you for the first time

let me rephrase, when dan heng and welt met you for the first time .. .

"you... know a lot, don't you?"

you whispered to dan heng

you probably just scared the shit out of him so unintentionally.

you totally know who dan heng really is

you're just as old as he is, maybe a bit younger but you're not stupid

and then you look to welt, and you end up introducing yourself with a cute smile on your face as if you didn't look through dan heng's soul 10 secs ago

dan heng felt whiplash as he watches you talk to welt

welt is concerned for you. he knows that look in your eyes, when you know so much, when you're so aware of yourself and everything but you're so happy

"you must be a smart kid.." welt says softly. "do you know a lot as well?"

"i do."

it's a really interesting relationship that kind of develops as father figure and kid.

you connect to himeko and welt very easily with your experiences

you know a lot and you've experienced a lot, you eventually confess to being of the limited species of the xianzhou, vidyadhara

and you're happily proud of it. you're comfortable as to who you are.

with the trio on the other hand, you're really curious about march and trailblazer the most due to their origins

and they gladly indulged you.

"please tell me more about you!" you would tell them and inquire about them quite a bit

dan heng and you had confusing relations, you knew him from the past and he knew you

and you seemed the same despite your physical age

and dan heng.. you wish you knew more about him

so you end up being curious about him

and as expected, you two are the closest to each other

you're sweet to everyone despite the hardships you faced and you always look at the world with realism and yet you find a way to appreciate the good and bad

while everyone is concerned about how self aware and aware of the world you are as young as you are, you carved a place in their hearts and you never fail to surprise them with your outlooks on everything around you.

[quimichi]

Hi, I was hoping I could get a genshin and HSR match up if they're still open? I use she/her pronouns, and I have a romantic preference for men. I'm a big time introvert and not one for small talk but I always try to be polite and kind. I've been described as being too sensible by multiple people but I will also laugh at some of the dumbest stuff. My hobbies include writing, drawing and cooking, generally I like anything creative. I hope this is okay and that you have a lovely day!

A/n: I really hope you like my answer! I just thought that someone who can understand and appreciate you would fit so much more better than the opposite ♡

FREMINET

@ awww look at those two introverts in love ♡

@ understands you all to well. You want your peace and quite? He'll leave you to yourself and lets you draw, take a nap, read or whatever.

@ greatly appreciates if you'd do the same, but only really rarely. He does enjoy your company a lot! You bring him internal peace. Just having you sit beside him while he works on a new project really gives him motivation.

@ psst, he wants to show off, just a little ;)

@ takes you diving with him! I hope you're not scared of the ocean tho- if you are, he'll guide you through it. He never lets go of your hand, even if it means that he will have a constant blush on his face and butterflys in his tummy. If you really are way, WAY to scared tho, he would obviously never force you. You two just walk by the shore collecting some seashells!

@ and if you love/like the ocean, he would shyly ask you if you wanna join him. Like everytime he would ask you. Or at least if you wanna wait for him by the shore.

@ LOVES LOVES LOVES to see your drawings, if you wanna show them that is. He can also draw yk, so someone who shares the same talent would also mean for him to share his supplies. Dw, take them without asking, it's a relationship after all.

@ and if you want you can make designs for his toy projects for the kids!

@ Is just as sensitive as you, maybe more, maybe less. But what is definitely a fact, is that he will comfort you nonetheless. Depends on how you wanna be comforted tho. Bit i think his style would be, have a cup of tea and let it aaaall out. Vent on him, he can listen well.

@ the twins think you two were meant to be-! Really supportive of you two.@ And Father is just as happy, she can't show it, but you're part of the family now sooo...you better not hurt her boy :)

DAN HENG

@ well--if you love writing, you're prefect with dan heng cause he loves reading-

@ would understand if you don't want him to read your written pieces, but would feel very honored if you would show him. Even just a glimpse would get him to praise you.

@ if you do show him--damn he would unintentionally correct your grammar or phrasing. Not that he shits on your grammar, its just-idk how to describe it he means it really nice but in dan heng style it comes off more as cold

@ and the corrections of your phrasings are just ideas on how to change things or make it more interesting. He probably read more books than the whole astral express crew together, like easily.

@ thats why he would get it if you don't wanna show him---he's aware lol

@ BUT! what he would do 100% and nobody can stop him, is reading to you ♡

@ lay in his arms and relax. Let his soothing voice lull you to sleep~ And if you wanna read on your own, do that, he'll wait for you to turn the page.

@ would also 100% discuss what you two read afterwards lol. Like a lil bookclub

@ he can actually cook, very well too. But he always says his skills are nowhere near yours, even if you deny it, he stands his point.

@ gracefully DEVOURS your food and asks for a second plate ♡

@ oh look, someone who also hates small take, yay. You two were so awkward at the beginning of the whole relationship. The beginning of the whole meeting each other for the first time too!

@ it was definitely him who took all the first steps. Even more awkward cause....he only knows the most things form books cause he has no real life experience-

@ made the mistake of asking March-the things he went through just for you-you better be greatful (jkjk)

[yccoffeesimp]

𝑊𝒉𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑂𝑘𝑖𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑒| ??? 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

TW: G0r3 & C@nn¡B@lism at the very end.

You stayed up the entire weekend writing the short story. You didn't want to think too hard about what to write, so you went with the easiest option. Fantasy/ adventure. It was already time for the next club meeting when you finished.

You wanted to show the others but to whom? Choose-

-Blade

-Dan Heng

→ Jing Yuan

-Gepard

->'Best to show Jing Yuan first, after all, he is the president and the one who gave us the assignment.'

You thought. You then slowly began to walk to him with the two flat papers in hand. "Lovely to see you again, Y/n."The ivory white-haired man said, smiling at you.

→ "Nice to see you as well Jing Yuan."

"Oh before I forget, I'd just like to say. If you have any suggestions for anything regarding the club such as activities or problems, don't be afraid to inform me." He said, crossing his arms, his cat-like smile still present on his features.

→ "I'll keep that in mind but I'm going to go with the flow as I get settled in."

"We all need time to earn our footing." He slightly laughed.→

"Say you wanna read the short story I wrote?"

You ask, handing him the papers as he nods. It didn't take long for him to finish reading the two papers of the short story. When he gave the papers back, he had a light smile.

"Excellent work, Y/n, I underestimated your writing capabilities. Say Dan Heng enjoys this type of writing style, the fantasy and the way with words is extremely moving and it paints a picture in your head as if you were in it yourself." He closed his eyes as he spoke, nodding ever so slightly.

→ "You lost me."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to wander. But regardless, it's very well written, and I enjoyed reading it. It captivates the reader and that's what is most important in any form of literature."

→ "Yeah I guess so."

"Since I've read yours, would you like to read mine as well?" He offered.

→ "Sure."

"Sorry if it isn't any good, I'm not as creative as most are." He smiled awkwardly, unfolding his arms across his chest as they landed at his sides again. Reaching for the paper that he had written on, which laid on the desk beside him, before handing it to you.

You took the soft, thin paper examining the words written on it.The story was about a group that called themselves Space Rangers and one of their amazing adventures. The story was rather vivid and from what you could tell no spelling or grammar mistakes. This is to be expected from Jing Yuan after all he is the valedictorian student.

You set the paper down as you looked at Jing Yuan."Is it bad?"He then asked.

→ "Are you kidding me? This is amazing!"

You exclaimed, this caused him to smile."I'm glad you think so, I feel as if I could use more practice on wording it better and try not to go into details a lot. Just proves I have a lot more to learn."

→ "We all could. Well, I'm going to go see what the others wrote. See ya around Jing Yuan."

"If you want to chat more, I'll be here." He smiled before you walked away.

Who's next?

→Dan Heng

-Blade

-Gepard

→ "Maybe I should go see Dan Heng next. He probably has some constructive criticism for my writing. I mean he's writing his own novel so.."

You thought, before walking up to him. He was sitting near the back of the classroom, hunched over that notebook that was said to contain that novel of his. Dan Heng didn't notice you until he looked to see you approaching him.

→ "Hey Dan Heng."

"Greetings {name}, is something the matter?" He asks, setting his pencil down for a brief moment.

→ "I was wondering if you wanted to read the short story we were assigned to read."

You said, you felt your voice slowly become high pitched as to not knowing how to talk to the guy. All you knew was that he was Dan Feng's, the future owner of Vidyadhara Industries, twin brother. He paused for a moment, thinking about your words."I'd be happy to." That was all he said.

You handed your paper to him, his attention immediately went to the paper in his hands. It only took a minute before the paper was handed back to you.

→ "So how was it?"

"It was well written, I must say. The movement with the words... It's unique, it makes you feel as if you're truly there." His words carried honesty and truth, you somehow couldn't help but be flattered.

→ "Thanks."

You plainly said. "I take it that you want to read what I've written for the assignment?" He spoke. You nod as he takes a slip of folded paper out of the notebook he was previously writing in. He passed it onto you, your hands unfolding it. You lightly scanned the paper, his handwriting was neat.. Words were in clear and constructed sentences. It was a small script of the romance genre.

→ "Wow, it's really good. You wrote this by yourself?"

Dan Heng nodded. "Just a small script, a friend of mine says I need to try to write new different genres.Some authors get boresome if they write the same genre over and over.. Or at least that's what they said."

→ "I kinda agree, sometimes the plot just repeats itself a lot."

"Speaking of such.. Any suggestions?"

→ "Huh-For what?"

"For my writing attempt at romance."

→ "Oh- Well I'm not an expert. It's good by my standards. I frankly enjoyed it."

You handed the paper back to him, it was folded neatly as it was before. Dan Heng took the folded material before staring at it for a short while. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He spoke, putting the piece of paper back into the notebook. He then opened to a page and began writing, ignoring your existence once more.

Choose-

→ Blade

-Gepard

Might as well see what Blade wrote. Maybe you could learn more about him. All you knew was that he was one of the troublemakers of the school. Easily had fights and many were sent to the nurse's office on several occasions because of him. You remember having him in your biology class once, he didn't show up except for when it was final exam season.He sat at the back next to one of the windows. His arms crossed along his chest, with his hair covering a majority of his face.

As you walked up to him, you got a closer look. He seemed to be holding a small piece of paper. You didn't realize you were staring at him before he spoke. "Is there a problem.?" He asked, his voice was laced with irritation and annoyance at your actions.

→ "Uh- Not really.. I wanted to ask if you wanted to uh- read the short story thing we were to write..."

He scoffed. "You do realize there are others here who can read the damn story, right.?"

→ "Yeah well I want you to read it."

"Hard pass. Now if you'd excuse me, I'd like to be alone."

→ "Well can I still read yours in the meantime?"

Blade didn't reply but he did look at you for a short while. He groaned, handing you the small piece of paper."If it only means you'll leave me be, take it."

♡- You received Blade's short story!

→ "Don't you want it back?"

"No." His answer was blunt and he looked not in a good mood to continue chatting... Best to leave him be and move to the next person.

But first do you want to read the short story now or later?

Choose-

-Now

→ Later

→ ' I'll read it when I get home from the meeting. I still have to read Gepard's.'

Gepard was near the podium of the classroom, he seemed to be writing something down before his eyes caught you walking towards him."Oh- Hey {name}, is there something you need?" He asked, trying to cover up the paper he was writing on.

→ "Yeah, just wondering if you wanted to read my assignment and to check up on ya."

"Oh- Well, I'm doing fine at the moment. Also, I'd be glad to read it. I heard from Jing Yuan that it was really good." The blonde smiled. You hand him the piece of paper. He gently took it in his hands before reading it. Now that you looked closer at him. He almost looked tired yet he always slept in. The eye bags he had were barely noticeable but they were still there. Your train of thought was interrupted by Gepard handing the piece of paper back. "Like I said, it's amazing."

→"H-huh?"

Did Gepard say something when you were spacing out? "{Name}? Are you alright?"

→ "I'm fine, Gepard... Just thinking and thank you for thinking it was amazing."

You smiled. A small smile followed from Gepard when you did.

→ "Can I read yours now?"

Gepard froze, looking away from you for a moment. "The thing is...-"

→ "You forgot to write one."

Gepard nodded. That was probably why when you left Jing Yuan, Gepard went up to him. Probably to inform him that he forgot to write a short story. "I haven't had time to, you know how much of a handful five-year-olds are..."

→ "Lynx really is giving you and Serval a rough time then if you didn't have enough time to write a story."

He nodded.

→ "Ah, I see. Anyways, what were you writing earlier?"

Your gaze falls on to the piece of paper on the podium. Gepard followed your gaze to the paper. "The short story.."

→ "Speed writing?"

"I have it already written but I haven't proofread it yet."

→ "I can do it for you."

Gepard smiled at you. "I don't want to bother you with it {name}, I can proofread it-"

→ "I insist. It's the least I can do for you."

Gepard thought for a moment before sighing. He gave you the now slightly wrinkled paper for you to read.Some sentences didn't make sense but then again it wasn't proofread. The short story was a historical fiction of the history of Gepard's hometown. The scenery of Belobog was different from the scenery of the Honkai Star City. Snow-covered meadows, a chilling breeze... It was a winter wonderland from what Gepard described it to be as back then before the Eternal Freeze. You took a pencil and helped Gepard rewrite some sentences.

As you helped him though, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes watching you as you did so. You looked up from the paper the paper briefly and saw no one was looking and the feeling vanished. But when you looked back at the paper, the feeling returned. You pushed the feeling away as you tried to focus on the story.

"Thank you,{name}, for the help," Gepard said once the proofreading was done.

→ "No need to thank me, just doing my duty as your friend."

"Still... It means a lot." He shortly smiled. He opened his mouth to say something else before a loud crash sounded. Your attention snapped to a broken teapot on the floor at the back of the classroom. Boiling water poured from the now shattered object. Dan Heng and Blade stood in front of it, a shocked expression on Dan Heng's face and a rather annoyed expression on Blade's. "Crap.." Dan Heng mumbled as he went to grab the broom from the closet at the back.

Blade simply stared at the mess before completely walking over it. "Well, that's the first.." Gepard mumbled.

→ "First of what?"

Gepard looked at you before looking back at Blade and Dan Heng. "Normally when they even interact with each other, there's always an argument that follows before Jing Yuan breaks it up. But strangely they haven't been arguing.."

→ "They argue a lot?"

The blonde nodded. "We don't know why but they really hate each other. We never really questioned it either." He shrugged as Dan Heng came back to clean the broken ceramic.

→ "Imma go help Dan Heng real quick."

You grabbed some stray papers from your bag before walking to Dan Heng to pick up the spilled water. The floor was dried and the teapot was thrown away. "Thank you for helping, {name}."

→ "It's no problem. Just helping a fellow club member."

Dan Heng gave a short nod, but you could've sworn he smiled too.

-×-

Jing Yuan clapped his hands together. "I'm happy to say this concludes our second meeting with our new member." He started, his cat-like smile on his features. "After sharing our short stories, how does everyone feel?" He turned to look at Gepard first.

"It was nice," Gepard answered.

Then he looked at Dan Heng.

"It was quite helpful." He replied.

Then at Blade.

"It was... eventful." He scoffed.

And then lastly at you.

→"It was interesting."

Jing Yuan nodded, his arms crossing in front of his chest. "I'm glad to hear we all have at least positive outlooks on today's activity. Perhaps we can do the same tomorrow but as for now, the club meeting is over." And with that, you began to walk home. The sun was already setting with the moon peeking its head out ready to take its shift in the sky.

-♡Blade's Short Story: ......The blood sprayed over the walls. Agonizing screams echoed throughout the halls, a blade dragging across the skin of the captive. A maniacal laugh follows, their eyes looking longing at the beating heart in their hand. Blood oozing from the organ as its former owner's limbs became limp. "Finally mine... all, all mine..."

A voice said. They tilled the organ upside down over their mouth. The blood poured from the heart's atriums into their mouths."Not enough, not enough.." They gasped before throwing the dead heart away. Now ripping at the throat and torso of the dead body. "I can't- Need more.." They gasped one more time before all humanity in them was lost...

~Fin~

Pins: @sarcastic-cookie

[lixenn]

OCtober 2024 day 1: fav OC

To no ones surprise my favourite is my main guy Daniele Costa aka Chief because let's be real here I can talk about him for ages. I love Dave to bits but Chief was my first proper OC for a fanfic and I'm most familiar with him. He accompanied me through tough times (aka thesis hell) and through him I was able to meet you guys! And I love you all to bits! So Chief is my dude! My tired bean that is in desperate need of a vacation and a nap (I think he might also be my fav because I relate to him so much lmao).

I made the drawing but I've also written a snippet where I used @zoroara's OCtober prompt day 1: foamy as a writing prompt (just so people are aware: I'm sticking to the #bweirdoctober prompts for this year but I had this snippet pre-written for ages and I don't wanna just let it let it rot in my documents. So I hope it's alright that I add this here 👉👈)

@myrmyrtheorca have Sam :)

The washroom looked like a bomb exploded in it. Foam everywhere, floor just one big puddle of water, one wall absolutely riddled with suspicious cracks and the washing machine was smoking like chimney in a frosty winter. At this point Dan feared stepping into the room just in case the ceiling would fall on his head.

He pinched his nose, once again regretting well … every single choice that brought him to this moment.

“Why?”

His question resembled more of a plea for divine intervention than an actual inquiry.

Why indeed.

Why is he awake at - he checked his watch - way-too-fucking-early o’clock? Why is he dealing with this? Why did he ever decide to work for the Varia? Once again, why is he awake right now?

“Ummm…”

He turned to his subordinates who had grouped themselves together in a trembling pile, which probably functioned as some form of moral support.

Dan narrowed his eyes at the pile not bothering to find out who actually spoke up.

“Well,” he said, tapping his foot. “Why am I here?”

A panicked and telepathic exchange of looks followed to determine which poor schmuck would need to answer his question. In the end Sam - four months, cleaning crew, allergic against bees - was shoved to the front like a sacrificial lamb. She was certainly shaking like one.

Honestly, it’s not like he will eat them. Unlike Vlasta he had standards for what entered his mouth.

Dan raised his eyebrow at the woman who clearly wished for the ground to swallow her whole.

“I am waiting.”

Her eyes skittered around the room steadily avoiding his gaze until they eventually focus on the broken washing machine. Resigned, she slumped into herself.

“The washing machine blew up.”

“Clearly,” Dan said, his tone the only dry thing in the entire room. “This doesn’t answer my question.” He stepped closer to his subordinate, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face until she was caught directly in his piercing stare.

“Tell me, Sam, why has Varia’s Chief of Staff been dragged out of bed to deal with one. Singular. Destroyed. Room?”

To her credit Sam did neither break eye contact nor did she start crying. However, her skin took a rather ashen parlour and if she bit her lip any harder there would be blood dropping down her chin.

“I- we- ummm…” she stuttered, trying to come up with some excuse that would save this situation.

Dan simply waited. And waited. And waited some more. In the end the silence dragged on for too long and Sam looked one second away from a panic attack, so he came to the conclusion that his last lecture of being kept in the loop had backfired on him. Apparently, his employees took the subject matter so much to heart and are now running to him in a panic for the most trivial of matters.

Time to correct that misconception.

He let go of Sam and addressed the hoard in its entirety.

“I was told it was emergency. Do you know what I qualify as an emergency?” He didn’t give them an opportunity to answer and started counting off incidents on his fingers. “Any of the assassin's going on a rampage. The castle actively burning down. PoisonChem messing with the water supply again. Or God forbid, my coffee supply mysteriously vanishing. You know what isn’t included on that list? Property destruction so minor it doesn't even make a dent into our repair budget.”

He crossed his arms, his whole being screaming displeasure and disappointed in all of their decision making skills. “Now, you are going to clean up this mess.” One of the newbies in the hoard furrowed his eyebrows, rebellion clear on his face.

Well, we can’t have that.

Dan clicked his tongue. “I will hear no argument. Apparently you weren’t able to deal with this yourself, since you deemed my presence a necessity. Well, here I am, giving you the orders you needed. Sort this out, get the Reps for the wall and ask Logistics if they have a spare washing machine on hand.” His words were met with frozen bodies and blank stares. “Did I fucking stutter? Move it!”

What followed could only be described as productive chaos which was an accurate summary of day to day happenings of Varia Housekeeping. It involved a lot of swearing, whacking people with brooms and the occasional breakdown about the horror of the week. How any cleaning gets done in this process was a mystery to Dan, but he will not argue with the results (unless the results are sloppy in which case he will make arrangements).

He turned to leave, fully intending to crawl under his blanket again. But before fully exiting the room, he looked back once more.

“And Sam?”

“Y-yes?”

“I want a full report on the culprits of this mess. Have it on my desk on Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!” she squeaked. “But Chief, it’s Monday!”

His smile was neither kind nor particularly nice. “Better hurry then.”

[headcanonsandmore]

Thasmin Fanfic Recommendations, a master post

Hi all! A fandom is at its healthiest when we share things, so I thought it'd be a good idea to share a list of all my favourite Thasmin (Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan) fanfics that I've read over the past few years. I'd highly recommend all of these. And, if you have any to add, please reblog with the links!

I Think You Might Like Me by Holie47. The Doctor asks Yaz to try and help her figure out what's going on and ends up coming to a realisation. Rated G for General Audiences. Cute Thasmin first kiss.

In This World Of Strangers I Belong To Someone by timetravelbypen. Autumn, 1904, London. Yasmin Khan is newly arrived in the city, eager to start the law degree she's spent so much time working towards. Determined to prove her worth to sceptical classmates and professors, she throws herself into her work. But a chance encounter with eccentric clockmaker Johanna Smith - and a mystery surrounding a progressive pamphlet written by someone called the Doctor - might just remind her she's worth more than her doubters could ever imagine. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Edwardian!AU with human!Thirteenth Doctor. One of the best Thasmin fics I’ve ever read (if not THE best!). There’s also a series of short sequels which you can find here.

to know how it ends and still begin to sing it again (as if it might turn out this time) by  Eriadu (@eriadu-in-the-wildwood) and timetravelbypen (@timetravelbypen). They’ve been here before. The Doctor always sidestepping, always avoiding; Yaz always following, always hoping. But in a museum simulation of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, confronted by an all-too familiar tragedy, the cracks begin to show. If they’re going to get out alive, something has to change. They’ve been here before… this time, can they make it through? Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Thasmin fic, set inbetween ‘Legend Of The Sea Devils’ and ‘The Power Of The Doctor’; some really interesting and in-depth characterisation for both Yaz and the Thirteenth Doctor, with some awesome sci-fi elements too.

Flying Lessons by timetravelbypen. A series of vignettes set between Ryan and Graham's departure in Revolution of the Daleks and the end of The Power of the Doctor. In which Yaz learns to fly the TARDIS, and learns just how capable - and how loved - she is in the process. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Just a word of warning, to quote the author; “there is a reference to an attempted suicide/self-harm in line with its depiction in Can You Hear Me as Yaz and the Doctor encounter someone else in a similar situation and Yaz deals with some flashbacks. If you would prefer not to read that, you can skip Lesson Five: Controlled Fall.”.

falling down the stairs (of your love) by timetravelbypen. The gravitational pull Yaz has over the Doctor is unavoidable, inescapable. The Doctor is falling for Yaz... and the Doctor is also falling. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Thasmin sweetness set after ‘Legend Of The Sea Devils’. Fluffy with a bit of angst; very sweet.

Two Idiots In A Box by timetravelbypen. Dan realizes quickly that, if left to their own devices, Yaz and the Doctor are never going to just talk to each other like functional adults. So he and the TARDIS hatch a plan. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. So funny and so sweet!

In fact, just read anything by timetravelbypen; they’re an amazing writer and understand these characters and Doctor Who so well! Their Tumblr blog is here; @timetravelbypen; send them some love!

Miniature #13 - The World Will Wait For Us by vaelerius. Yaz and the Doctor go on a totally-not-an-actual-D.A.T.E in Sheffield to Yaz's favourite restaurant. What could possibly go wrong? Rated G for General Audiences. Easily one of the funniest Thasmin fics out there; this is a good one to read when you want cheering-up.

You Have A Wife??? By LonelySpaceAce. Yaz asks the Doctor about something that she's been wondering about since they fought the Sea Devils. Rated G for General Audiences. This is written by one of my awesome Tumblr friends, so please check it out.

You Have Kids??? by LonelySpaceAce. Yaz learns that not all the Doctor's companions have been in love with them A sort of sequel to "you have a wife???”. Rated G for General Audiences. It also scratches my particular itch for having Thasmin with a side helping of Tegan/Nyssa.

(Un)familiar by EvvieJo. Yaz is trying to settle into her post-Doctor, UNIT life. Rated G for General Audiences. Less of a Thasmin fic per-say as opposed to a bit of closure for Yaz after leaving the Doctor, although it does have a lot of Thasmin elements to it.

The year of the cat by zurau. post-lotsd. thirteen disappears, again. a cat appears. it's some consolation. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Funny fic about a mysterious cat that appears whilst the Thirteen Doctor has disappeared; you can probably guess where this is going…

Candy Floss And A Carousel by 13beautifulghostmonument. Team TARDIS make a festive stop over in Cardiff. Yaz and the Doctor finally admit to their feelings. Rated G for General Audiences. Very cute and sweet.

Courage & Stupidity by seaunicorn. Yaz was his best friend and, much like the Doctor, Dan would do anything for her. Four years marooned in the past can forge quite the friendship, and he would go to great lengths to protect her from anything, or anyone, that hurt her. Including the Doctor herself. After Dan learns what happened on the beach, he confronts the Doctor. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Set after ‘Legend Of The Sea Devils’ and with some excellent character work.

giving up and giving in by seaunicorn. It takes Yaz almost dying for the Doctor to actually confront her feelings. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Really sweet fluff and first kiss stuff.

All The Time In The World by Metal_Gear_Steve. Yasmin has developed feelings for the Doctor, but she isn't sure how to bring this up with anyone. Ryan and Graham have settled after their first few crazy adventures, so it's not like she can rely on the "adrenaline and whimsy" excuse to explain her standoffish behavior forever - sooner or later, she has to bite the bullet and confess her feelings to the Doctor. But there's so much that she doesn't know about the Doctor, and any number of factors could get in the way of a potential relationship. Will Yasmin's confession be successful? Is there room in The Doctor's heart for a new love after a multitude of relationships, most ending in disaster? Will Graham get to try that alien ice cream again, with what's-its-name seeds in it? I guess we'll find out - we've got All the Time in the World. Rated G for General Audiences. Some really wonderful fluff; super sweet.

Our Moment on the Beach by docwhovians. When Yaz and the Doctor find themselves held prisoner a hostile pirate ship, there's not a whole lot they can do except talk. Feelings that have been brewing come to a head. When the moment is interrupted by an order to walk the plank, things get interesting. Rated G for General Audiences. Really cute fluff with some pirate stuff.

A Home For The Holidays by mag_lex. In which Yaz and the Doctor visit Yaz’s family for Christmas after the events of the Flux, and Najia decides to intervene when she realises something is going on between them… Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Sweet domestic fluff and a little bit of angst thrown in (since it is related to series 13 of the modern series).

i will always hold you close but i will learn to let you go by jodieoswald. Yaz listens to Dan's advice, and takes the leap, hoping that the Doctor will listen. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Angst with some fluff and a happy ending. Very sweet and tender.

The One With The Hen Do by isabrella. Yaz takes the Doctor to a friend's hen party to cheer her up. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Angst with a happy ending; very tender. 

Confessions by SimpleSapphic. Set directly after Eve of the Daleks (and directly after thasmin becoming canon may I add akshakdhsksh), Dan does what Dan does best: he plays wingman to get those two to *finally* confess their feelings and actually do something about it. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. A fair bit of angst but with some really sweet fluff at the end. Gotta love wingman Dan!

The Lodger by bells_n_roses. The Doctor moves in with Yaz to investigate the mysterious upstairs lodger. As they spend more time together, however, feelings start to build. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Very cute and sweet, but with some mild angst mixed in.

I Still Burn For You by timelostdoctor. Yazmin Khan and the Doctor's relationship has been over for ten months. Ten months in which they haven't seen or spoken to each other. With Sonya and Ryan getting married, they are both part of the wedding party. How can they find happiness for their friends when they both wish it was their wedding instead. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Oooh, mate; this is one of the tenderest Thasmin fics I’ve ever read (complete with a human!Thirteenth Doctor); sweet with just the right mix of angst, and a good bit of humour as well! Always worth a read when you want something to get lost it (and, yes, I hope that Mandip Gill has read this one since she asked for fanfic recs).

Love is a lottery, and I’m betting on you by riptheh. The Doctor knows how it is with the female companions. Lived it dozens of times before. And this time, she's determined to make sure it doesn't happen. Or, five times the Doctor was so busy making sure Yasmin Khan didn't fall in love with her, she failed to realize that the opposite was happening. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Tons of fluff, mistaken-for-a-couple, bed sharing, this fic has it all!

February by softestbutch. The Doctor stepped a little closer, still partially obscured from view, still animated in the quiet orange glow. ‘Oh, it’s a little silly,’ she said. Yaz raised an eyebrow for her to continue. ‘I can go,’ she said, and Yaz breathed an endeared laugh.‘What is it, Doctor?’ she asked. A pause. ‘It’s snowing,’ the Doctor said. In short: the doctor is incredibly excited about the snow, and yaz is incredibly in love with her. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. A cute fluffy fic about Yaz and the Thirteenth Doctor having fun on a snowy day.

Live inside my mind forever by timelxrd. Yaz fell asleep precisely ten minutes and thirty-two seconds ago. The Doctor knows, because it’s been ten minutes and thirty seconds since she’d had to consciously regulate her breathing and the rise and fall of her chest against Yaz’s soft cheek so not to jostle her. Rated G for General Audiences. Cute fluff about cuddling and hair-plaiting.

A trusted place to rest by multifanwho. After she manages a prison break, the Doctor finds herself exhausted with her feet carrying her to the one place on Earth she feels most safe. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Fluff with a side ordering of angst.

Cuppa? by softly-penned-valkyrie (softly_speaking_valkyrie). The Doctor's slipping and she knows it. Everything's getting too much for the first time in thousands of years and she's finally having trouble coping with it mentally. How often does that happen? Following a double adventure involving the Judoon, incredible revelations and alien birds, it all becomes too much to handle, and when the TARDIS itself nudges at Yaz to go help the Doctor alone, it becomes a little too much for the copper too. But when the Doctor lands in Yaz's kitchen desperate for help, how can she refuse the woman she loves.... Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Fluff, hurt/comfort and some mild angst.

not-so-fake-feelings (and their very real consequences) by ActuallyMe. Yaz needs someone to pretend to be her partner whilst some really annoying family friends are in town. Turns out, the Thirteenth Doctor is happy to play along… Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Fake dating scenario, with some hilarious fluff.

astronomy in reverse (it was me who was discovered) by transboytwelve. Fake dating, bed-sharing, camping fic; Thirteen has to pretend to be Yaz’s partner for a family get-together. Hijinks and definitely-not-just-platonic confusion ensues. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences.

Around The Rink by sheregenerated. The Doctor and Yaz get a bit competitive, Graham has some cocoa, and Ryan rides a reindeer (sort of). Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Cute fluffy goodness.

The Changing of the Seasons by rubyofkukundu. The Doctor gets her first period. Thankfully, Yaz is on hand to help. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Fluff with a bit of hurt/comfort and humour.

Hooked on all these feelings by Moonlightkitten (orphan_account). In which Thirteen wants a set of earrings to match Yasmin's and won't take no for an answer. The only problem? She doesn't have pierced ears. Yet. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Very sweet and very funny. The person who wrote this has since orphaned their account.

Erlebnisse by Val_Creative. The Doctor surprises a very ill Yasmin with a visit. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Very cute and sweet.

I Met Her On The Beach by C1ashi1dr. While Graham and Ryan are taking a break from traveling, the Doctor and Yaz head for a relaxing day on the beach. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Some really lovely fluffy goodness.

Trick or Treat by HalfBakedPoet. What do the court of King Louis XIV, a futuristic pumpkin-based religion, a secret pumpkin carving society, and a two-person horse costume have in common? The Doctor and Yaz celebrate Halloween in a variety of ways. Apple bobbing ensues. Leads up to (presumably, hopefully) the beginning of Flux. Rated T for Teen and Up Audiences. Some fun Halloween fluff.

Hope you all enjoy these fics; I know I certainly did! Remember, if you enjoy a fic, please leave a comment; authors love it when we recieve comments and it inspires us to create more!

[every-name-is-taken-but-this]

Neil Josten, the man that you are

I've written and rewritten this meeting a dozen times and either i decide to change it, or Neil simply starts doing something unexpected and then we're off on a side tangent that i didn't anticipate

In all fairness to him, he's been awake for 96 hours straight and has been hallucinating all kinds of stuff and freaking out, and kinda... not doing any part of the grieving process, but he's *fine*

But i think i finally have the meeting fixed, in part i was thinking of conversations Neil is going to have later with the Foxes and imagining the ridiculous answers he would give to figure out where this was going but a lot of those ideas didn't make the cut so, just for fun, here's some conversations that almost existed in this story lol

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(In a universe where Neil thwarts a kidnapping attempt, by kidnapping the victim himself, accidentally)

Nicky: so? How did you meet you're soulmate? Tell us everything

Neil: I stole a car, she was in the trunk, so i stole her too, then, later, i stole her heart

Everyone: O.O what?

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(In a universe where Neil beats the statistics for pedestrians surviving being hit by vehicles going faster than 15 mph)

Aaron: I can't believe you hit your soulmate with a racquet the first time you met

Nicky: not a great first impression

Andrew: *glaring at them, but noticeably not correcting them*

Neil: that's not so bad, the other soulmate hit me with her car, i think maybe it's a sign

Aaron: that even your soulmates wanna hit you?

Nicky: that they would have a big *impact* on you <3?

Neil: .... probably that i need to be more careful when I'm running?

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(in a universe where Neil gets into a fight with a random 3rd party because he's a menace)

Matt: I fell for Dan immediately, love at first sight <3

Neil: that's nice

Matt: what about you?

Neil: she took my breath away

Allison: that's surprisingly romantic, coming from you

Neil: well, it was a really impressive hook kick, wish she'd hit the other guy, but *shrugs* it ended the fight

Matt: :(

Allison: no one bet on that >:(

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none of these are what i ended up going with, but they were funny ideas to play around with and i thought I'd share

(I've decided when i finish the prologue I'll post it here for now, and I'm thinking I'll jump from that to leaving Millport, and if people are curious about things that happen in between then i can always write some extra content)

[cnnmairoll]

An Enchanting White Day

Character(s) : Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Gepard, March 7th Genre : Fluff a/n : Starting to get a hang on writing multiple charas and hsr! This fic was inspired by the official white day fanfic hyv posted, I added march just because :3 But also, this is the first time I've written for a female chara! so feel free to give me a feedback!

Jing Yuan, A Handmade Connection on White Day

It was that time of year again, a month after the sweet chaos of Valentine's Day had settled down, leaving behind a lingering air of anticipation and excitement. The city of Xianzhou was bustling with preparation for White Day, a day when people would reciprocate the tokens of affection they had received just a month prior. Among the many hearts that fluttered with excitement, yours beat with a particular rhythm, for you had a special connection with none other than Jing Yuan, the revered general of the Cloud Knights within the Xianzhou Alliance.

Jing Yuan, an enigmatic figure known for his strength, wisdom, and grace, was a man who had captured not only the respect of his subordinates but also the hearts of countless admirers.His tall and commanding presence, paired with his striking white hair and golden eyes, made him a beacon of attraction. Among the many admirers he had, you stood out as someone who held a unique connection with him.

Valentine's Day had come and gone, leaving behind a trail of gifts and sweet tokens from his countless admirers. You, having a special bond with Jing Yuan, were no exception. Among the sea of presents that had been sent his way, yours stood out not only because of its intrinsic value but also because of the genuine connection you shared.

As White Day dawned, the atmosphere within the Cloud Knights' headquarters was charged with activity. Soldiers and aides bustled around, arranging gifts to be distributed to those who had showered Jing Yuan with tokens of their affection. It was a tradition that he appreciated and understood, the significance of reciprocating the feelings that had been expressed.

But amidst the orchestrated chaos, Jing Yuan's focus remained unwaveringly fixed on you. He knew that amidst the throng of admirers, it was your connection that was most precious. As the flurry of activity settled, he made his way to you, a small smile gracing his lips.

Amidst the bustling Cloud Knights' headquarters, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you turned to find Jing Yuan standing there, his presence commanding even amidst the commotion. His long white hair was elegantly tied into a ponytail with a red ribbon, and his golden eyes held a warmth that was reserved for you alone.

"Happy White Day," he greeted in his characteristic composed tone, the words carrying a deeper meaning as he handed you a carefully wrapped box. His fingers brushed against yours for a brief moment, sending a subtle jolt of warmth through your veins.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and gratitude as you accepted the gift.

Jing Yuan's smile widened slightly, as if he had predicted your response. "I made this especially for you. I thought it would be a fitting gift."

With his words, your curiosity grew, and you carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a small, exquisitely crafted bracelet. Its design was delicate, yet its intricate patterns spoke of the effort that had gone into its creation. It was a testament to the precision and care that Jing Yuan put into everything he did.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, your fingers brushing over the beads and threads, marveling at the craftsmanship.

Jing Yuan's expression held a mix of pride and satisfaction as he watched your reaction. "I'm glad you like it. I thought you might appreciate something handmade, something that carries a piece of my own efforts."

As you held the bracelet in your hands, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading within you. It was as if the bracelet carried a piece of Jing Yuan's essence, a tangible reminder of the bond you shared. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in a moment that felt like a private exchange amidst the bustling surroundings.

"Jing Yuan, I…" you began, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your feelings.

He held up a hand, his smile tender. "No need for words. Our connection speaks for itself. Every connection I've made here is important," Jing Yuan confessed softly, his voice carrying an unspoken depth of emotion. "But ours... it's unique."

In that instant, the world around you seemed to blur, and it was just you and Jing Yuan, bound by an understanding that went beyond words. As White Day continued around you, the exchange of gifts and expressions of affection unfolding, your heart remained tethered to the general's presence, to the handmade bracelet adorning your wrist.

Dan Heng, Unveiling Affections on White Day

You never really thought much about romance when it came to Dan Heng. He always carried himself with an air of quiet mystery, a stoic guardian of the Astral Express. But beneath that cool exterior, there was something more, something you were fortunate enough to witness. You knew the real Dan Heng, the one who was unexpectedly sweet and sentimental when no one else was around.

Valentine's Day had been a pleasant surprise. You had gifted Dan Heng a carefully chosen dark bitter chocolate and a quill pen that he could use during his quiet moments. He might not have been a fan of sweets, but his appreciation for the thoughtful gesture was evident in the way his eyes softened as he accepted the gifts. He had thanked you in his usual reserved manner, and you had both continued with your routines on the Astral Express.

Little did you know, Dan Heng had been researching the concept of White Day. He wasn't one to be caught unprepared, especially when it came to showing his gratitude and reciprocating your kindness. The idea of making homemade sweets had been discarded quickly, knowing his culinary skills were far from impressive. Instead, he delved into the databank that held information about you, hoping to find a suitable gift.

However, delving into the databank wasn't as simple as he thought. Sure, there were records of your preferences, hobbies, and favorite things, but Dan Heng realized that there was so much more to you than just the data. He recalled all the times you had shared stories during your hangout sessions—your dreams, your fears, your adventures aboard the Astral Express. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wanted to give you something that reflected the depth of your connection.

Days turned into nights as Dan Heng immersed himself in his research. He began to notice the small things about you that others might overlook—the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about your favorite books, the times when you helped crew members with their tasks without expecting anything in return. Slowly, a plan began to take shape in his mind, one that would require more effort and time than he had initially anticipated.

As White Day drew nearer, Dan Heng found himself working in secret whenever he had a spare moment. He reached out to crew members who possessed certain skills, and he even sought assistance from the conductor themself, Pom Pom. The crew members were surprised by his uncharacteristic requests, but they could see the determination in his eyes, and they agreed to help.

On the morning of White Day, Dan Heng's room had transformed into a makeshift workshop. Various materials were strewn across the table, and he meticulously put the finishing touches on a project he had been working on for days. A knock on the door interrupted his concentration, and he quickly arranged everything to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

When you entered his room, he greeted you with a calm smile, his usual demeanor in place. You exchanged greetings, and then he gestured toward a modest-looking box on the table. "I have something for you," he said, his tone composed.

Curiosity piqued, you approached the box and opened it to find a beautifully crafted journal. Its cover was adorned with intricate designs reminiscent of the Astral Express's elegant interior. Inside, the pages were thick and high-quality, inviting you to fill them with your thoughts, memories, and adventures.

"It's a journal," Dan Heng explained, his gaze steady. "I know you enjoy recording your experiences and thoughts. I asked for help from our crew members to create this. Each page is handcrafted, and I thought it might be a fitting way for you to continue documenting your journey aboard the Astral Express."

You were touched beyond words. The effort he had put into this gift was evident, and it spoke volumes about his feelings. With a smile that held a mixture of gratitude and warmth, you looked up at him. "Dan Heng, this is incredible. Thank you so much."

He nodded, his eyes softening for a moment before he regained his composure. "I'm glad you like it."

As you held the journal in your hands, you realized that this wasn't just a gift—it was a testament to the depth of your connection with Dan Heng. He might have seemed reserved and distant to others, but you had seen the effort he had put into understanding you, appreciating you, and finding a way to express his feelings in a language that he wasn't accustomed to.

As the two of you spent the day together, you shared stories, laughter, and newfound closeness. The handcrafted journal became symbols of the bond that continued to grow stronger between you. White Day had not only been a celebration of reciprocated gifts, but a celebration of the unique and heartfelt connection that existed between you and Dan Heng—the guardian of secrets who had chosen to reveal his most precious secret of all: his affection for you.

Gepard Landau, A Blooming Bond on White Day

As the month of White Day drew closer, Gepard found himself in a rather peculiar predicament. It had been two weeks since you had presented him with a homemade sweet for Valentine's Day, and despite his reputation as an outstanding warrior of Belobog and the captain of the Silvermane Guards, he was utterly flustered. What could he possibly give you in return that would match the sincerity of your gift?

He had sought advice from his sisters, Serval and Lynx, who had teased him mercilessly about his predicament. They'd seen their usually stalwart and composed brother turn into a bundle of nerves, all because of a heartfelt gesture from you. After all, Gepard was meticulous and vigilant by nature, and his straightforward honesty was as much his strength as his weakness.

Gepard's hobbies included a somewhat unsuccessful attempt at growing flowers. It was a less-known fact about him, as most people only saw the warrior in him. He pondered the idea of gifting you a bouquet of flowers he had cultivated himself, but his first attempt had gone awry, leaving him without enough time to grow another suitable arrangement.

Though there was a reputable flower shop in Belobog's town, Gepard hesitated to resort to a simple purchase. He yearned to offer you something that would reflect the depth of his emotions, something that transcended mere material exchange.

The day of White Day arrived, and Gepard positioned himself near the city district during his off-duty hours. His heart raced as he anticipated your arrival, hoping he had made the right choice. When he finally saw you approaching, a warm blush spread across his fair cheeks, and he greeted you with a mixture of eagerness and shyness.

With a soft yet nervous smile, he presented you with a neatly wrapped box. His blue eyes held a sincere intensity as he explained his dilemma. He admitted that he had agonized over what to give you, unsure if he could match the sweetness of your Valentine's Day gift. His voice held an endearing touch of vulnerability as he confessed his feelings.

You accepted the box with curiosity and began to unwrap it carefully. Inside, nestled within delicate tissue paper, was a dried flower delicately preserved. Its petals held an array of soft pastel colors, and it exuded a faint but pleasant fragrance. Gepard's voice trembled slightly as he explained that it was a flower he had cultivated himself, albeit through a process of trial and error.

"This flower... it's not as vibrant as the ones in the shop, but it's a symbol of my feelings for you," he admitted, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I wanted to give you something that would last, just like my feelings for you."

Your heart swelled with emotion as you listened to Gepard's heartfelt words. The sincerity in his eyes and the vulnerable honesty in his voice touched you in a way that words couldn't fully describe. The dried flower, though delicate and seemingly fragile, felt like a tangible representation of his affection, enduring through time just like the sentiment he held for you.

You reached out, your fingers grazing his hand gently as you met his gaze with a soft smile. "Gepard, this is more beautiful and meaningful than any bouquet could ever be. It's a testament to your care and dedication, and that means more to me than you can imagine."

A mixture of relief and joy flickered in Gepard's eyes, his worry dissipating like morning mist. He was not one to easily express his emotions, but in that moment, his gratitude and happiness radiated from him. His lips curved into a genuine smile, and the vulnerability he had shown earlier only added to his charm.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice steady but warm. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, even if I struggle with all these... romantic things."

Your laughter bubbled up at his self-deprecating tone. "Gepard, your sincerity speaks louder than any grand gesture. And the fact that you tried, despite your worries, means the world to me."

As you continued to chat, your conversation flowed easily, both of you sharing stories and insights that brought you closer together. Gepard's guard seemed to lower further, revealing the endearing dorkiness that only a few were privileged to witness. You discovered shared interests and teased each other playfully, enjoying the easy camaraderie that had developed between you.

With the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, Gepard checked the time and reluctantly admitted, "I have duty tomorrow morning, so I should probably head back soon."

Your heart sank slightly at the thought of parting, but you nodded, understanding his responsibilities. "Of course. Duty calls, after all."

Gepard's blue eyes held a hint of regret, but he mustered a determined smile. "I promise we'll have more time together soon. Maybe we can even work on my flower-growing skills together."

You chuckled, appreciating his enthusiasm even in the face of his admitted lack of expertise. "I'd be honored to help you nurture flowers, Gepard. Who knows, we might end up with a garden full of stories."

As you said your goodbyes and watched Gepard walk away, the dried flower brooch glinted in the fading light, a constant reminder of the connection you had forged. White Day might have been about reciprocating gifts, but what you and Gepard had shared was something far more precious—an exchange of hearts, vulnerabilities, and the promise of a blooming future together.

March 7th, Captured Moments of White Day

It was a crisp March morning, and the anticipation in the air was almost palpable. March had been planning something special for you. White Day was here, and while the exchange of Valentine's Day gifts had left a warmth in your heart, March was determined to make this day just as unforgettable.

March had put so much thought into this day, carefully considering what would make you smile. She was a spirited and quirky young woman, known for her love of photography and her penchant for all things adorable. She had a reputation for being creative, and today was no exception.

As you stood there, March approached you with a playful twinkle in her pink and blue eyes. "Are you ready for your White Day surprise?" she asked, her voice a mixture of excitement and nerves. She gently tied a blindfold around your eyes and took your hand, leading you through a series of twists and turns until you reached her room.

With a flourish, March removed the blindfold, revealing her meticulously planned surprise. The room appeared the same, yet different – there was a box waiting for you, its presence a tantalizing mystery. With curiosity piqued, you reached out and slowly lifted the lid.

The sides of the box gracefully fell away, revealing layers upon layers of polaroid photos. Each image captured a moment, frozen in time – a candid shot of you laughing, a snapshot of a shared meal, a stolen glance that spoke volumes. You couldn't help but be touched by the effort March had put into preserving these memories.

But the surprises didn't end there. Delicate, hand-crafted butterflies in shades of pink and blue fluttered out of the box, a testament to March's creativity and attention to detail. These butterflies carried her signature colors, a symbol of her thoughtfulness and care. They danced around the room before settling near you, as if inviting you to partake in the magic of the moment.

Turning to face March, you were met with her beaming smile. She held out a bouquet of your favorite snacks, an array of treats that she had carefully selected just for you. "Happy White Day!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious.

You accepted the bouquet with a grateful smile, marveling at the variety of treats she had chosen. From savory to sweet, it was as if March had compiled a treasure trove of your most cherished indulgences. "This is amazing, March," you said, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness.

She beamed with pride, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I'm so glad you like it! I wanted to make sure you had a little bit of everything you love."

As you both settled into the room, surrounded by the fluttering butterflies and the scattered polaroid memories, March gestured to the photos that adorned the space. "Each of those photos holds a special moment," she explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I wanted to capture the moments that make us, well, us."

You found yourself drawn to the images, each one telling a story of your time together. There was a candid snapshot of you helping March pick flowers in the park, a mischievous grin on both your faces. Another photo showed the two of you caught in a fit of laughter during a movie night, a shared bowl of popcorn between you.

"Remember this one?" March pointed to a photo where you were both attempting to bake a cake, flour smudges on your faces and the kitchen a delightful mess.

You chuckled, the memory coming back to you in a rush. "How could I forget? We turned the kitchen into a battlefield that day."

March laughed wholeheartedly, the sound filling the room with warmth. "Yeah, but we had so much fun, didn't we?"

It was moments like these that made your connection with March so special. The ability to share laughter, create memories, and embrace each other's quirks was a testament to the bond you had built.

As you sat down together, the snacks spread out before you, March suddenly spoke up "I hope White Day feels as wonderful for you as it does for me," she admitted, her gaze meeting yours.

"It's more wonderful than I could have imagined," you replied, sincerity lacing your words. "And that's all thanks to you, March."

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon sharing stories, indulging in the treats, and relishing in the comfort of each other's company. With each passing moment, you realized that March had managed to create a White Day that was uniquely tailored to your connection, one that celebrated your journey together.

As the day drew to a close, the room was bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun. March looked at you with a mixture of contentment and affection. "I'm so glad I could make this day special for you," she confessed, her voice filled with genuine emotion.

"You did more than that," you assured her, your heart swelling with gratitude. "You made this day unforgettable."

March leaned in, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. In that moment, it felt as though the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared emotions.

With a gentle touch, March's lips met yours, a sweet and tender kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and the promise of many more moments to come. When you finally pulled away, you could see the affection in March's eyes, a reflection of the connection that had blossomed between you.

"Happy White Day," she whispered, her voice a soft melody that resonated in your heart.

"Happy White Day, March," you replied, your voice equally tender.You knew that this White Day would forever remain etched in your memory as a celebration of love, shared moments, and the beautiful journey you were embarking on together.

[aether-the-bakugannie]

The Fated.. Bad Ending?

Hello hello! I've been thinking about this for a while and now I've finally gained access to the episode, I think it's about time I wrote out my thoughts on why The Fated First Battle was such a horrific ending to Ajit's arc.

Ajit's arc in Armored Alliance was honestly my favourite arc in the whole show. They wrote it so well, from having Ajit start to love brawling when he battled against Dan but seeing it as something he could love alongside thieving, to having him subconsiously make his choice between thieving and brawling in Magnus PI, when Magnus chose to let him go, Ajit could've simply left with both the promise to continue the battle someday and the stolen lightbulb to complete the mark, instead he threw Magnus the lightbulb he'd previously stolen, promising to continue the battle and gave up the theft. To having the two things pitted against each other further and further until he finally makes his choice and quits thieving, to eventually joining the Awesome Brawlers.

Something very important to Ajit's arc is his relationship with Storm. Ajit was saved by Storm as a child, then became his apprentice - training to be a phantom thief like him, it's clear Ajit cared deeply for Storm, even viewing him as a father figure. Yet to the viewers, it's clear that Storm has been manipulating and grooming Ajit into becoming a thief.

Storm continually treats Ajit as lesser, saying he needs "retraining" whenever he does something wrong, it's implied Ajit never had any friends before the Awesome Brawlers and that he was generally isolated from others, therefore Storm would be the only one to show him kindness - making Ajit rely on him. He switches between being kind to Ajit and being extremely dismissive and blunt and even calling things Ajit does (clearly hoping to earn approval) dissappointing, he doesn't even let Ajit call him by name, insisting on being referred to as "Master". During Secrets Exposed, Storm refers to Ajit as his "masterpiece" which almost objectifies him as a possession, just another thing he's stolen and keeps around. Even before Haavik comes into the picture, as soon as Ajit makes the decision to be a brawler rather than a thief, Storm decides he wants to destroy him as revenge or punishment for this choice. "Ajit. If I'm going to loose my masterpiece anyway, I will destroy it myself." - Storm in Armored Alliance episode 17: Secrets Exposed.

We never truly find out if Storm truly cares about Ajit or if he only cares about having an apprentice, someone he can train into a phantom thief just like him. And it's clear Ajit doesn't know either as whenever he interacts/fights against Storm during AA, he's shown to be unsure about fighting him as a part of him misses him.

Ajit breaking free of Storm's control and choosing his own path as a Bakugan Brawler is such an important moment for his character arc. I could talk about Ajit's arc forever because he's one of my favourite characters and he was so well written in Armored Alliance, he was more of the protagonist of that season than Dan was.

However, when watching Legends episode 5: The Fated First Battle, it's always left a bad taste in my mouth. In this episode, Ajit faces off in a battle against Storm for the first round of the battle judgement against Hanoj. Legends is a thirteen episode season and this is really the episode that concludes Ajit's arc. You only need to mention this episode to me in passing and I will go off ranting about how awful an ending this was for Ajit.

Geogan Rising is typically thought of as the season with the worst writing, however Geogan Rising actually succeeded in writing Ajit better than Legends did. ...Well, at least in episode 16: The Taste of Memories, I'm still not a fan of how they wrote him in most other Geogan Rising episodes.

In The Taste of Memories, Ajit mentions a certain type of curry he used to eat a lot when he was younger. The group assume he misses eating it when he says there aren't any resturants around that sell it and decide to make some for him.. Yet in the end, Ajit admits he didn't like it as he's not a fan of spicy food and he only used to eat it because it was Storm's favourite. "I'm sorry, but I don't really... Like curry at all. I don't like spicy food, I used to eat lentil curry when I lived with Storm because it was his favourite, not mine." When Ajit actually tries the curry, he's surprised how good it is and how it's not spicy at all.

I actually view this as a metaphor or a message of sorts, that bad people can taint good things for you but later on good people can help you see those things as good again.

(Side note: It's interesting how this curry that Ajit didn't even like was his first thought when asked about food he grew up eating and how upset he seemed when answering. It makes it seem like he was never able to discover his own favourite foods because Storm would only make his favourites.)

This episode ties in well with Ajit's development arc, it shows him recalling something from his past and realising how this food he didn't like could've been enjoyable all along if the person who had made it had cared about his preferences. I'm not entirely sure how to make curry, but I assume it would be quite easy to split the mix of curry ingredients into two bowls/pans then add the spice to one and not the other.

Also noteable about this episode, is how when Ajit decides to try the curry because of how much effort the others had put in to make it for him, Lia is quick to tell him not to force himself. While it would seem he'd had to eat it when he was younger despite not liking it.

Now, finally, The Fated First Batle. The way this episode starts off is alright. It feels in character for Storm to choose to fight on Hanoj's side because if the world is going to be destroyed, he doesn't want to be someone who struggled pointlessly against it, he'd rather help destroy it. Ajit being the one to fight against Storm also makes perfect sense, he's the one on their team with the strongest reason to fight against Storm.

During the battle, Ajit uses things Storm taught him in the past against him. This is something he's done since Farewell Phantom Thief in Armored Alliance, this isn't where my problem with this episode lies.

Instead, my problem is after the battle when Ajit approaches Storm.

"You said you've saved the world from countless dangers?" "Then you should keep going down your own path! Prove to me you can save the world." "After you defeat Hanoj and this is all over, we shall meet again."

Storm's sudden personality switch doesn't feel genuine. It feels like a last attempt from Storm to manipulate Ajit again and to come off as a good guy rather than a villian. Which, to be fair, is in character for him. Of course Storm wants to be viewed as a good person, especially since he lost the battle, it makes sense he wants to do something so that no matter what side wins, he'll be viewed as someone who supported the winning side. He's also trying to take credit for Ajit's achievements, giving him permission to do the very thing Ajit's been doing this whole time and making it about him.

Ajit's response is the problem.

The writers chose to have Ajit respond to this by smiling and mentally saying "You've got it, master." Backtracking on all his development since Armored Alliance.

Now, if they were going to have another few seasons after Legends and have Ajit go through another arc of falling into old behaviours as he's getting manipulated again, then slowly realising that as his friends call him out on it and he finds himself in similar situations with them as he was during early Armored Alliance (Eg. trying to steal things behind their backs like in Phantom Thief Ajit or battling Magnus to get away with a theft like in Magnus PI) then have him finally go to therapy and cut Storm and his manipulation out of his life permanantly, I would get it. It's common for people who have spent a long portion of their lives being manipulated by someone else to regress back into past behaviours or to get manipulated again while they're still improving. That would be a realistic way to continue his arc and make that scene make sense.

However, that's not what happened, Legends was the final season and this episode was supposed to be the conclusion of Ajit's arc. And as it was, this was a horrible ending for his character. Having him forgive Storm, having him go back to calling him "Master" and thinking of him as a mentor, having him welcome Storm back into his life after three seasons of cutting him out of it. Then ending it like that, acting as if Storm deserved to be forgiven and as if this is some happy ending for Ajit.

This is why this episode leaves such a bad taste in my mouth, it's such a horrible ending, even if it wasn't intended to be. I assume the writers thought it would be nice for Ajit to reconnect with his father figure before the show ended. But Ajit's whole arc read as him being supposed to break free from the manipulation and realising Storm wasn't that great! Ending his arc on this note feels so sour and such a disservice to his character, especially after how well written he was during Armored Alliance.

Ajit was Bakugan Battle Planet's best written character and it just makes me so furious that he was given such a bad ending to his character arc in the final season.

I personally believe when Storm said that, Ajit should've had a line more along the lines of... "Yeah, I'll save the world.. But not to prove anything to you, I'll do it for my friends and for myself. Because no matter how much you taught me... I'm following my own path now. One that you're not a part of anymore." Albeit probably not that exactly because that's quite long and dramatic... But you get what I mean.

Of course Bakugan is a show aimed at children, I understand they can't exactly come out and say that Storm was manipulative and was grooming Ajit into becoming a phantom thief. However, it's still obvious that was the intention and that's quite clear to older viewers and to younger viewers who can see themself in Ajit's situation. Ending Ajit's arc like that sends a bad message that people like Storm will change and become better and that you should forgive them. Which is generally not true.

I just wish they'd chosen to end it in a way that didn't have Ajit allowing Storm back into his life and that the writers had put more thought into it.

Legends was a thirteen episode season, so I understand some things were rushed but this was one of the most important things they had to do in the season and it's so upsetting that Ajit's arc was the victim of this rushed writing.

Anyway, that's about all I have to say on this topic for now! Thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts on this topic. Do you think this ending was okay? How would you have changed it? I'd love to know!

[about-faces]

I'm still loving Gotham Nocturne and I wish it was getting the love/respect/attention is deserves. I've spoken several people who haven't been reading the current Detective Comics run because they're Batmanned Out (good lord, do I get it) and they see it as just another attempt at some kind of "ultimate Batman story with Batman fighting the ultimate evil," which I strongly disagree with.

THAT SAID... as time has gone on, and the story seems to be reaching its finale, there are a few things that stand out of me as problems with this epic storyline.

1.) It's one of the most egregious examples of "writing for the trade paperback." This simply isn't a story that's meant to be read month-to-month. It's too slow, with too little "happening," at least on the superficial level. Paradoxically, it's NOT a story that should be binged! The best comparison that comes to mind is Better Call Saul, since that's the only other example of serialized media that's meticulously slow-paced yet INCREDIBLY RICH for those willing to engage with it on its level rather than expecting it to be Breaking Bad (or in Nocturne's case, a typical Batman story.) Ram V is capable of writing super-engaging monthly issues, as the fantastic Rare Flavours proves, but that brings us to...

2.) The story is sprawling. Maybe even TOO sprawling. When it comes to people who are sick of Batman, I try to sell them on the fact that this story is about GOTHAM AS A WHOLE, right down to the villains who call it home, and how everyone there is as intrinsically a part of Gotham as Batman is. But ensemble stories like that are tricky, and it makes the focus feel all over the place at times, with alternately too much and too little attention being paid to the main players, Batman included. It's a balance that was handled beautifully with Batman: The Audio Adventures, but it seems a bit more awkward here. Again, it's hard to pull off!

Like, we have characters pop up and then vanishing without explanation. We got Azrael back in the AzBats armor for the first time in decades, like, holy shit! That should be a HUGE development! And then, poof, he vanished! There's simply no time to explore Jean-Paul's character because there's so many other things the narrative needs to explore.

This feels like it would have really benefited from a companion series, something to focus on the characters the way the backup stories have done, but just more so. I think about how Peter Tomasi would write companion books to the main big storylines written by Geoff Johns, Grant Morrison, and Scott Snyder, and how he'd focus on character, which always enriched the greater "big important storyline." Which, in turn, also brings me to...

3.) The backup stories have really lost a lot of their punch since they stopped being written by Si Spurrier and were taken over by Dan Watters. Watters is incredibly capable, make no mistake, and his Cheshire/Lian Harper story is one of my favorite parts of this entire saga. But by and large, his tales focus more on the spooky and weird sides of what's happening with Nocturne, whereas Spurrier's stories were more focused on characters navigating the weirdness of the events. As a result, Spurrier gave us what I consider to be some of the very best stories about Jim Gordon, Harvey Dent, and Victor Fries ever written. I really miss those, and how they enriched Ram V's (possibly overly-ambitious) narrative.

Ultimately, Gotham Nocturne feels like the Batman equivalent to an arthouse film, which means it's going to be appreciated by a handful of nerds while leaving most other fans cold, and I can't really blame them. If anything makes me sad about all this, it's how all this incredible character work with Bruce, Harvey, Victor, Talia, and others is going to be ignored. Hell, it already is, given the complete lack of acknowledgement we've seen in other Bat-books for what's going on in Nocturne.

At this point, I just hope it sticks the landing in the finale, because I want to be able to have a complete, satisfying epic to recommend to people who want something a bit richer than the typical "guy in Bat costume punches clown" stories we usually get.