#may also return to it sometime for edits idk

[katkalis-the-fanartist]

@cheese-chiled Went with Cohen! Actually planned to give him a go at some point, so this was a perfect suggestion👏

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 1)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here!

author's note:

oh goodness. it's been a while.

i really did intend on posting this soon after i published the first part, but then life kind of got in the way. i graduated from grad school, moved to south korea, and have been here since. i'm still a carat, and i really do think about this fanfiction all the time, mainly because this story is truly me bearing my soul to the internet and my friends who have access to the original google doc.

this one is a lot less edited and looked over, but it's because this portion of the fic reminds me of something i'm still in deep grief for. so, for those of you who will read this, i was originally going to have a third installment, but i think i'll leave it at this two. it feels good and true to leave it here.

this was supposed to be published yesterday on seventeen's anni, but i was busy spending time with my korean host family who i've not been able to see that often since moving out :')

maybe i'll write short stories including these two because they are so special to me, but this main story has come to a close. the real final push was jihoon releasing "what kind of future?" officially, the very song that inspired this fic, in honor of his beautiful friend and human, moonbin. bin-ah, i hope you're sailing among the stars and looking over all of those who love you and who you love in return.

and to you, who may be reading this, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

tagging @fiantomartell since you asked me to whenever i published this. it's been a long while, but.

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

side b: him.

The rapid beating in his chest drowned out the slam of the door behind him as he rushed down the stairs of your home, desperate to just get away as soon as possible. Your parents weren’t home, so he didn’t have to worry about looking like an absolute fool in front of them.

You knew. You fucking knew.

You knew how much he was in love with you and this was your way of rejecting him.

He was stupid, so stupid. If he just put his feelings aside then you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t have to leave. But this was all his stupid hormones and brain chemistry and his fucking heart. He knew that it wouldn’t pan out. You never saw him as anything more than just a dear friend, a brother. You made that clear.

Since the beginning, your pinkies intertwined promised a forever, but you both had different ideas of what that was. And he was stupid to believe there was a chance.

He ran.

He ran so far and so hard that he couldn’t make sense of left or right or forward or backward. All he knew was that he needed to get away from you.

But he couldn’t.

He passed by Old Man Park’s home with a winding tree you were convinced held fae people that would only come out when the entire town was asleep (there was a 50km radius, you said).

He ran by the rusted bars of the playground you two snuck off to instead of going to cram school where you attempted a flip and promptly landed on the crown of your head, wood chips tangling themselves into your hair, tears mixed with laughter and pain streaming down your cheeks.

The library where you would spend more time in the children’s section than anywhere else because you would practice your ‘reading voice’ for your future children’s bedtime stories.

The baseball field where the realization that he was in love with you hit him harder than any fastball pitch ever could.

You were everywhere.

And he needed to get away.

He went to your house to share the news of passing the trainee audition, that was the whole purpose of seeing you.

However, that wasn’t the only thing he planned on confessing.

If you asked him to stay, he would have.

But instead, you rejected him before he even got one word out.

So, he packed his bags up for Seoul, a place untarnished by you. A city that not even your light could reach, no matter how radiant you were.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Jihoon-ah, aren’t you working too hard?”

He glanced up at Jeonghan who was probably let into the studio by Bumzu. Jihoon glanced at the clock to notice a bright 4:02am glaring back at him. “Ah, hyung. I didn’t even notice the time.”

“I figured. I brought you some food.”

Jihoon glanced down at the two bags in his hands. His eyes narrowed. “Hyung, I don’t eat as much as you think I do.”

“I’ve seen you eat three full meals in one sitting. Get away from your desk and we can eat.”

Jihoon sighed before he reluctantly left the seat he hardly moved from for over seven hours. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replied happily, snapping the wooden chopsticks into two. He started chewing on one of the danmuji, the sound of its crunch reverberating in the studio. “Oh. And also, the wi-fi’s down at the dorm, so.”

“So, you’re here to steal my bandwidth.”

“I brought you food. I paid my toll.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Alright, sure.”

“So, are you in the composing stage or the writing lyrics stage?”

“...Lyrics.”

“Hm. What are you writing about? Or rather, who are you writing about?”

Jihoon stabbed the grilled fish. “...You know who.”

“She’s really got a grip on you, huh.”

Jihoon grunted in response. Obviously.

Jeonghan continued, “I saw that one of the local newsletters interviewed the group home that she volunteers at. She was voted as volunteer of the year. Again. She smiles with her entire body. Seems like a good person.”

The younger of the two picked away at the fish, not bringing it onto his makeshift plate. “Yeah.”

“Do you still stalk her on Instagram?”

Jihoon let out a loud sigh.

“That’s a yes, then.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it used to be. I used to check, like, every few weeks, but now it’s gone down to just a couple times a year.”

“She hasn’t blocked you yet?”

“Hah. I don’t think she even knows that my account is reactivated.”

“Well, you never needed to reactivate before. Her Instagram used to be public. The rest of the members and I used to scroll through wondering how a bright girl like her could be associated with such a deadpan guy like you.”

“Wow. Thanks, hyung.”

Jeonghan merely brushed off Jihoon’s sarcasm, already used to it. “She only made it private this last year, right? Since she complains about her program being out to kill her on her story. To be honest, I’m surprised she didn’t realize you’ve been watching her stories.”

“I don’t think she checks who watches her story since she has over a few thousand followers.”

“She attracts people, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she always has.”

“Can I see her profile again?”

“You’re not going to do something weird, right?”

“Ey, Jihoon-ah.”

“That makes me really not want to.”

“Ey.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone. He opened Instagram and clicked on the “Search” feature and saw your profile appear at the top without even needing to type anything. He signaled for Jeonghan to scoot down the couch so he could sit down and handle the phone in his own hands. Jeonghan peered over his shoulder as he scrolled through your profile.

“Oh, is that Japan?”

“Yeah.”

Jihoon clicked on your post.

But it wasn’t opening.

So, he clicked again. And then again.

And his phone decided to catch up with his thumb’s movements.

The once white heart was now red.

His grip loosened on the device of betrayal and it clattered to the ground. “Oh shit.”

Jeonghan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. He placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I’m sorry, but. This is karma for not letting me see her profile on my own.”

“Hyung. Hyung. What should I do?”

“Just unlike it? I’m pretty sure that Instagram doesn’t send a notification as long as you unlike it before she sees it.”

“How do you know?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “Jihoon. It’s not the end of the world if she happens to see it. If she blocks you, then you know, and you end up writing another heartbreak masterpiece—” Jihoon couldn’t even appreciate the comment. “—but. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“...”

“Uh. I’ll just… do it for you, then.”

Jeonghan picked up the phone, facing the screen towards Jihoon, the camera scanning his frozen features to unlock and Jeonghan tapped the red heart to empty it again. He placed the phone back on the younger man’s thigh, but Jihoon remained in the same position as earlier, eyes glazed.

“Jihoon-ah.”

“Hyung.”

“Let’s just wait, yeah? The food’s getting cold. So, let’s finish eating.”

“...Okay.”

──────────────────

Jihoon picked at the rice bowl in front of him, his mind light years away, chest filled with concern for the future. Was auditioning for a company worth it? Even if he started the process now, wouldn’t it still take a while to even hear back?

“Jihoonie.”

His heart constricted once he heard the voice of the person who made him unsure. He caught you blinking owlishly at him. “Y/N.”

“Hrmm. You seem quite a bit down, my friend. You’ve barely touched your first bowl of rice. It’s concerning.”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh, don’t do that. We know that usually ends badly for people.”

“Well, someone between the two of us has to have brain cells.”

“I pride myself in simultaneously never thinking and also being the top student of our school.”

“You work miracles, Y/N.”

“Hey, now I know you’re down because you didn’t call me a flipping nerd. Your best moods are usually accompanied by your worst words.”

“You make me seem like an asshole. You slander me to other people, don’t you?”

“Of course. I can’t have them know just how utterly wonderful and fantastic you are. I’d rather you have that butthole reputation if I get to keep my best friend all to myself. I’m a selfish lady, you know.”

Did you even know how much your words affected him?

“You’re neither selfish nor a lady.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m a selfish lady who’s only checking on you because I refuse to be wrought with worry for the rest of the day. So, come on, Jihoonie. Let’s go play darts.”

“Last time we played you almost stabbed my hand.”

“Your fault for reaching for the board when I was about to own you. Come on. Let’s go. I’ll make a pinky promise with you.”

Jihoon snorted. “Of what?”

“I promise to do whatever you want if you win.”

Jihoon scrunched up his nose in response. You were always so naive with him, trusting him wholly. But a part of him was grateful that you did. He merely sighed and stood up.

He might as well use your promise to his advantage.

──────────────────

“She didn’t block me.”

“Oh, really?” Jeonghan glanced up at Jihoon who suddenly broke the silence.

“Who’s she?” Soonyoung’s ears perked up.

“You know. His firefly,” Jeonghan replied.

“What? Why would she block you?” Seungkwan directed his question at Jihoon, who was simply trying to edit lyrics in his own studio, which was being occupied by several SEVENTEEN members.

“Jihoon accidentally liked one of her posts last night, but we unliked it. Oh, sorry. I unliked it because he was completely frozen.”

“The notification probably didn’t go through,” Seungkwan supplied. “I’m pretty sure unliking a post makes the notification go away.”

Jihoon had set his phone aside earlier in hopes of not constantly checking it. His mind may be unsteady, but he was always self-disciplined.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Soonyoung glance down at his own phone screen that buzzed a second prior.

“Oh. Jihoon-ah, she liked one of your posts.”

Before his mind could even catch up, Jihoon flung himself to his phone, his self-discipline be damned. He frantically clicked on the notification and it redirected him to his Instagram page, where he saw your name among the list of likers. He wasn’t sure whether his heart was racing or whether it stopped completely because the buzzing in his ears overtook all of his other senses.

He even ignored the boys’ laughter around him.

“Is… Is social media actually facilitating real connection right now? Are we about to prove all of the ahjussi and ahjumma wrong? Are we about to witness history?”

“Seungkwan-ah.”

“Sorry, Jeonghan-hyung.”

“She… She didn’t block me. She saw me. What is this? What do I do? Do I just ignore it? Or should I let her know I saw it?”

Soonyoung snorted. “Yah, I’ve never seen Jihoon this nervous for any performance ever.”

“His heart’s probably racing more than it did the Golden Disc Awards.”

“WHAT DO I DO.”

“Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan started. “I think the first thing you need to do is breathe.”

So, he did. In. Out. In. Out.

After what seemed like years, Soonyoung spoke up. “So… Are you gonna message her?”

Jihoon sat in contemplation for a moment before he decidedly shook his head. “No. It’s time to write a song.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rose at that. “You’re gonna go back to work after all of this?”

Jihoon bit his lip. “No. This is gonna be a solo song.”

The corners of Jeonghan’s lips curled up at his dongsaeng. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”

Jihoon nodded almost mindlessly.

Everything about her usually is.

──────────────────

“Jihoonie~ Wake up~”

He groaned loudly under the bed covers.

He heard you snicker, the only warning before you landed with a loud thump as he let out an “oof!” from beneath you.

“Get off me. You weigh like a million pounds.”

Rather than listening, you spread your limbs and trapped the adolescent boy beneath you, nuzzling further into the outer casing of his cocoon. “Nope. Just yesterday you yelled at me for not eating enough when you flung me off of the couch by accident because I stole the remote. So.”

“I’m suffocating. You’re killing your best friend.”

“Oh, but to die with a beautiful girl on top of you, isn’t that the way to go?”

There was a moment of silence where Jihoon contemplated catapulting your entire being off of his bed before, “Pretty sure that’s your dream, you damn pervert,” came his muffled reply.

“Huh. You might be right there.”

“Get! Off!”

His hand easily found your weak point between your first and second rib and you cried out as you toppled down onto his bedroom floor. He emerged from the confines of his sheets with hair sticking up every which way.

You grinned lazily up at his disheveled state and he glared right back at you. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Because your mom said to come and get you! We’re going to Muju today, remember? In time for the Firefly Festival!”

“Right. It’s your yearly family reunion.”

“Yes, I will become one with the bugs. My fursona will arise again. Or is it bugsona?”

“Is a buggy better than a furry?”

“You’re asking me to choose between two evils, my dear Jihoonie. Come on, get up. I’m excited to spend an entire weekend with our family.”

It was way too early for his mind to whirr as fast as it did at the simple implication of ‘our’. “Alright, firefly. Get out of my room so I can get ready.”

“Okay! I’ll go help Mama downstairs.”

You were committed to calling Jihoon’s mom as Mama instead of Eomma, as the latter held a tone for you that was nothing less than stressful.

Jihoon smiled at your joy, but stopped when he noticed you freeze in place. “...What?”

You shifted the weight in your feet before speaking. “Mm. Just had a thought. With a smile like yours, who would ever need the summertime?”

You grinned at him while his heart stopped. You always spoke without a care in the world; never carefully crafting your thoughts before speaking them aloud. You were spontaneous. Wild, even. Sometimes it ended with you in some kind of trouble, while other times, like this one, ended with him in trouble instead.

You scurried out of his room before he could respond.

He released a dragged out sigh as he felt his cheeks warm.

Forget summertime.

He wondered whether the earth could be sustained through all of the seasons at the sheer brilliance of your smile.

But he ought to thank the summertime.

Because it meant, every year, without fail, he would wake up to you, he would smell the breakfast you helped his mother cook, he would hop on a plane to travel to a different province and see the night sky alight with hundreds of fireflies, your face aglow with soft awe and wonder.

Yeah.

He needed the summertime.

──────────────────

“What? Jihoon-hyung is talking to the girl that just upped and left him and fled the country?”

“Chan-ah, your wording needs work,” Seungcheol chastised. The other members that were near enough to hear nodded, while others were distracted by their own activities.

Jihoon buried his face in his hands. “Eugh, I don’t even know anymore. It’s not like we’re actually talking; she just reliked one of my posts. It’s like, she went back and let me know that she saw me. But is that supposed to be a warning? Is it supposed to be a white flag?”

The youngest member of SEVENTEEN shrugged. “Hyung, I think that you’re putting a lot of meaning behind something that was just a small gesture.”

“Nah, Chan,” Seungcheol interjected. “Jihoon has been in love with this girl since he was a kid. This is more than just a small gesture, after what she did to him.”

Wonwoo spoke up. “Hey, don’t forget Jihoon was the one who left Busan first.”

The accused groaned.

“Wonwoo, you’re just biased towards her because you think that she and Jihoon would make a good couple and you believe in an ideal love.”

“Hyung, I just think that if Jihoon can write what he writes about her, there’s something there.”

“You romanticist.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Jihoon-ah, I think you’ve tried to reach her with your words time and time again, but maybe it was never made clear that she was the one it was for. You mentioned that she really thought you were in love with your noona—” Jihoon grimaced at the memory. “—so, maybe she’s just unaware.”

“She can’t be that oblivious,” Soonyoung interrupted. Jihoon knew Soonyoung was almost fiercely protective over him because he was the one who witnessed Jihoon’s aftermath firsthand. Soonyoung may be over-the-top some days, but whenever Jihoon needed it, he would help ground him.

Wonwoo’s eyes flicked between the two of his fellow 96ers. “We were all kids once, Soonyoung. We were all so focused on ourselves we couldn’t really see what was happening around us.”

Soonyoung pursed his lips. “...I guess. Jihoon, what do you think?”

Jihoon stared at his hands. “Does it matter whether she knew back then or not?”

They all collectively raised a brow.

“Whattaya mean?” Seungcheol asked.

“I can make a ton of assumptions about her. That she was actually in love with me and was scared. That she was rejecting me in her own cruel, yet kind, way. That she had no idea and the timing was just completely off. But all of that, I don’t actually know. All I do know is that… I want to see her. And not just from afar anymore. But part of me also hates her. But all of me misses her. I don’t know. I guess I’m just too stupid to figure this out.”

A heavy silence passed over the group.

Soonyoung broke it. “If you’re stupid, then I’m the biggest idiot on this planet.”

“That’s not comforting, that’s just a fact.”

“Hoon, you wound me.”

──────────────────

Award shows were weird.

At first, everything was an out-of-body experience for him and could barely process what was happening. He even couldn’t believe that he and his twelve members managed to earn their matching pinky rings and the right to produce and perform, let alone be nominated for an award. When they went on the stage, they did their best to be as refreshing of idols as they could be.

But it was much more daunting than they were used to.

Their debut year went by, and although there were many nominations, they remained only that.

In middle school, he would often tell you that you had a strange fixation on being number one in your graduating class. He said that he didn’t get it, that being in the top 5 was already something that was admirable.

He would never forget the look you gave him when you said, “One day, you’ll know what it’s like. You’ll know what it’s like to almost have something and then not. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you, Jihoon. The feeling of, ‘But what if I did more?’”

He merely rolled his eyes and called you dramatic.

That is, until he experienced it firsthand.

The first time ever was when he was doing a music competition for clarinet and compared himself to his bandmate, who received several achievements while Jihoon found that he simply didn’t have the body to be able to hold the same lung capacity.

Then he felt it: that driving force.

You both pushed yourselves further, to higher heights.

And it ended with him sick and bedridden.

And you, heartbroken and unsure of life.

The two of you would reprimand each other for trying too hard, but even with accountability, that envy, that desire for an indisputable win, that fear of failure, would still sneak its way into you both. You, with your academics. Him, with his musical endeavors.

For several years after their debut, at award shows, Jihoon would clap, the rhythmic beating of his hands echoing that in his chest, his smile lined with bitterness, his ears rang with the whispered voices.

‘Those people didn’t deserve it. You worked so much harder. These people don’t even produce their own music. Or maybe it’s because they have real producers and composers, unlike you. Who are you to think you deserve that award?’

One night, after another show of no wins, he collapsed onto his bed, unlocking his phone, intent on watching an anime episode before falling asleep. His members were discouraged and no one wanted to discuss what more they could even do.

Even if they did everything right, maybe it still would never be good enough.

When he opened up the YouTube app on his phone, he saw a recommended video. Your name written out in English caught his eye and he realized it was Part II of a podcast you had done with the channel before. It was a Korean-American podcast and you would share your experiences in the Korean language, connecting with your culture despite being in a foreign country.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he clicked on it, hoping to find comfort in a person he always had, in someone he probably always would.

Several minutes in and he realized just how thick that red string must be between the two of you.

“You know, I thought I undid a lot of my perfectionism before coming to college. Korea is the birthplace of comparison and pressure, I’m sure of it. It was ingrained into me from childhood. So, I did what I could. I got out. Learned to broaden my horizons. But when you attend a school like Yale, your environment really just kinda forces you to be perfect just so that you can survive. Because if you’re not, then you’re cut.”

He thought back to his trainee days.

To his current days.

How similar.

“I remember being at an event where we were being presented awards for our achievements. I remember that I was in the running for one of them, and I won’t say which one so this doesn’t come back to bite me. But at this one event, I remember no other guests were invited, only the nominees and peers in the same field. And when they announced the winner, everyone applauded, of course. However, I won’t ever forget the sight that I saw.”

You chewed on your lips, gazing upward trying to find the right words to say, a habit you’ve had for years.

“The winner had the biggest grin on their face, proud of themselves, as they are allowed to be. But when they turned back to the crowd? I think they saw something. I think they saw that our smiles were forced, that we were judging them, judging ourselves, trying to determine whether they actually deserved the recognition or whether we should have been the ones to win. And… their smile faltered. It was quick, but it was noticeable. And I think the only reason why it even faltered was because it was only those of us who were nominated or could have been. Like, it’s easy to cheer on someone for a prize that you didn’t want, but as soon as you have stakes in the game? Well. That’s a whole different story. But when they lost that smile, it felt like something shattered.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, but they didn’t fall.

“They say it’s lonely at the top. I haven’t been there in a long time, but. I don’t even know if that’s where I want to be. These people have done super cool things, and who’s to say that I would’ve gotten the same results if I had tried? And maybe, maybe they have enough competitors. Maybe they need someone who celebrates them. Someone who knows the hardships of working in this field. And maybe that’s what I can do. I just want to do what I love and what I love doing is social work. Celebrating other people. Learning their stories. Not saving the world, but trying to make it into one that might be worth saving. If I happen to get recognized because of doing those things and they give some kind of trophy for it, then alright. But that’s just a byproduct of the greatest award I’ve already given myself, which is just letting myself do what I love.”

And those were words he carried with him as he went to bed that night. 

When they won their first award. Their first Bonsang. Their first Daesang.

Award shows were weird.

It was all about performance.

Performing on stage, prepped through sound-check, clean-cut choreography, and pre-recorded live vocals to grab the audience’s attention.

Performing when at their designated table, giving reactions at a timely rate for both the fancams and large screen cameras.

Performing when behind the stage, being the best hoobae or sunbae they needed to be, adapting to whatever situation they may be placed in.

He knew how to perform. He was good at it.

It was why he’s in this industry.

But there are some things that don’t warrant worrying about an audience.

As he watched the seven members of BTS walk towards the stage, reaching for their Daesang. He clapped to match the rhythm in his chest, sure and steady, at ease. His smile, genuine and wide. The voice in his head, not unlike yours mixed with his own, provided gentle comfort.

‘They deserved it. They worked hard, just like you did. Their ability to collaborate with other musicians is astounding. It would be an honor to work with them. And you, too, have won, you’ve given yourself the greatest award by continuing to do what you love.’

──────────────────

Jihoon once again found himself at the recording studio, however, at a more reasonable time. He was trying to finalize all of the details on the songs for their comeback album, so he was spending his days in the recording studio and ending it in the dance studio, fully exhausted to where he would only have enough energy to shower and trudge back to his bedroom, just to pass out on his bed.

He heard the door to his room open but didn’t make an effort to turn around.

“How’s the song coming along?”

“The album is nearly complete—”

“No, the solo one.”

Jihoon finally glanced up at Seungcheol who now stood beside him. “I haven’t had as much time to work on it. Why?”

“No, I just wanted to check in with you.”

“You’re a good leader, hyung,” he said quietly.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue. “Of course, I am. But I’m mostly just curious because you’ve never written a song about her specifically that only had you singing it.”

“…that’s not true.”

“What? Which one?”

“The first song I ever wrote.”

“Oh what? What was it?”

Jihoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old song that I think only I remember anyway, plus, I only had vocals at the time. No instruments or anything.”

“…huh. What was it about?”

──────────────────

You wiped your snot away from your face, unable to differentiate between mucus and tears. Your unrelenting sobs weakened to light shudders.

His voice carried from above you, his hand entangled in your messy knots as he rubbed soothing circles against your temple. You curled yourself further into the tear-stained pillow he so lovingly dubbed, “Y/N’s Breakdown Headrest” which also doubled as “Y/N’s Punching Bag” when your emotions were forged from fire and not a dam that couldn’t hold anymore of the taunts and cruelty from your own parents.

His thigh was a mere hair’s breadth away from grazing the top of your head. He had a tendency to bounce his leg, one you continuously called him out on, but he wouldn’t ever stop his bad habit.

That is, unless you needed him to.

And he always gave you what you needed.

So, he sang to you a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

Jihoon paused, wondering how you comforted yourself now, wondering if you now had a Breakdown Headrest 2.0, before he spoke again. “It’s about what all the songs I write are about. Love. Although, more lowkey, not as direct.”

“Love and her are synonymous to you, aren’t they?”

“She’s the one who taught me most of it,” Jihoon said nonchalantly. “A truly honest and genuine form of it.”

“Wow, how romantic of you,” Seungcheol laughed.

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you know I only have the patience to tolerate all of you guys because of her. She believes it’s her divine mission to be as annoying as possible.”

“She sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah, she’s taught me how to be patient and remain calm. But she was also incredibly patient with me. Honestly, it feels like all the things that make me likable are all from her.”

Seungcheol made a “oOooOooOOOooOOooo~” noise before Jihoon got fed up and kicked him out. Of course, his reprieve was short lived as more and more members flocked into his room, a constant moving traffic of his twelve brothers.

He imagined you meeting them.

With Seungcheol, you would probably tease him relentlessly, trying to come up with new names for the S. Coups game, while also thanking him for being so protective and steadfast, praising him for his taste in emo music and asking him to sing My Chemical Romance with you.

With Jeonghan, you both would sneak off to devise plans on how to create chaotic dynamics in between the members and cause more infighting while eating stolen snacks or spend hours just sitting around, doing fuck all, because why not.

With Jisoo, you both would speak in English (with you affectionately calling him by his English name “Joshua!”), sharing music as well as probably arguing between Los Angeles and New York, since that was a common feud topic Jisoo brought up.

With Jun, you would try to get as many reactions out of him as possible or get him to write down the list of all of the authentic Chinese restaurants around Korea or you would sit with him at a piano and watch as he played OSTs to Chinese dramas, applauding all the while starry-eyed.

With Soonyoung, you both would either be each other’s soulmates or the banes of each others’ existence, both fiery and passionate; however, you were always good at matching the energies of those around you, so you would let him ebb and flow while you merely followed, likely to call him, “Hoshingi,” just as Jeonghan does, and you would probably love caring for him the same way you did with elementary school students.

With Wonwoo, you would watch him play his PC games, probably in awe of his prowess or you would discuss lyricism and poetry, both exchanging flowery words for no reason as you would try to pick his brain as to what really lies beneath the surface, whether he truly is as straightforward as he seems, and be intensely satisfied that he simply is as he is.

With Seokmin, likely to sweetly call him “DK~”, you would ask him to sing for you since you loved Broadway style voices, and since you both were so generous with your kindness, there would be no doubt that the two of you would somehow manage to start up a non-profit that manages to eradicate all the bad in the world.

With Mingyu, you would discuss filming and the latest movies to watch and you would ask him how he finds the motivation to do many different hobbies at once especially when busy with being an idol; you would probably try to trick him into listening to you tell ghost stories as if they happened to you.

With Minghao, you would share your favorite poets and philosophical ideas, sharing the life lessons that you two have learned and realized you managed to hack life’s code at a younger age than most, you both realized the real importance of being alive: contentment and love.

With Seungkwan, you would probably be laughing so hard at his wit that you wouldn’t have much time to breathe, you would try to figure out how exactly he managed to memorize so much information surrounding K-Pop and why exactly he was so passionate about it or if neither of those, you would ask him if he could get you the plug for those Jeju hallabong oranges.

With Hansol, you would call him “Vernonz,” since you loved names that began with the letters V and Z, and ask him about his parents once you found out they were both artists, and you two would definitely discuss the effects of late-stage capitalism and social media on humanity.

With Chan, you would do your best not to baby him, but you hold a lot of fondness for those younger than you, you would try to figure out how he is so particular about his attention to detail and whether it is something that is pressuring him (and if there was some way you could alleviate it).

He imagined you there, integrated into his life again. He imagined you showing authentic interest in every one of his precious members, unlike most interviewers they would be forced to interact with every comeback. You would learn all of their names, find out their favorite foods, the best way to make everyone collectively laugh, and ultimately, how to help all of them feel comfortable around you and inevitably love you.

And once they did, he could say that his most beloved people were finally all together.

He fell in love with you, but you’re the one who taught him how to walk into it with his eyes wide open. So, he did it with his members. It took practice, having to actively choose them. With you, it may have always been a choice, but it was as natural as breathing, even if there were times he felt like he was being suffocated (or wanted to suffocate you).

He remembered the first time he became aware of it. Most people talk about how love comes, there was always talk about rose-tinted glasses and how it softened the world around them, unable to forget the brilliant smile on their face, but no. You always shattered expectations.

From anyone else’s standards, his realization came at an inopportune time. But it was so clear. It wasn’t as though you had sparkles around you as you emitted a warm glow, it wasn’t as though your hair was perfectly touched up with no strand out of place, it wasn’t as though you were perfectly dolled-up with eyes lined and lips colored. No. It was just… you.

And that's when he knew.

Because there was no filter to block the sheer clarity he was hit with when he finally accepted he was in love with you.

──────────────────

When Jihoon saw your crying form, a slurry of words filled with concern and instructions were the only thing leaving his mouth as he packed his things up. He only deviated once he gave a quick farewell to his noona who left with her dad.

Jihoon bit his lip. Would you be okay? Maybe he’ll just rush home now and shower then call you later at night. Or maybe he should go prepare his bedroom if you decide to visit. Yes. He should do that.

Jihoon turned on his heel to make his way back home, his newfound mission resounding in his mind.

However, your cousin’s voice reached his ears, “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, saw the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly. His fist clenched, the baseball preventing his nails from biting into his palms. He spun it once. Twice. And up into the air.

“Here, firefly.”

You caught it by instinct.

Your gaze met his.

He felt his heart ache at the sheer brokenness apparent in your eyes, rimmed with red and puffed skin. He grit his teeth. He hasn’t seen you cry this hard since the day your parents told you that your number two class ranking was nothing to be proud of and that they expected more from you.

His jaw clenched so hard, he heard an audible bite.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Your voice sounded so soft, like a child. A visceral instinct within him wanting to lull you into a peaceful rest with a lullaby.

But he wouldn’t do that.

Because that would be embarrassing.

(That was a future Jihoon problem.)

“It’s your win today.”

He much preferred the look of confusion on your face to the look of agony you held just a few moments ago.

“Huh?”

He swallowed thickly, his brain unable to keep up with the words tumbling from his mouth. “Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was probably much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands, unlike his.

You sniffled.

A soft smile formed on your lips.

And Jihoon realized he preferred that look on your face than any other he’s seen.

Pretty.

He rapidly turned on his heel before he even gave a second to try and unpack that thought.

The weight of his baseball gear was really doing a number on his heart, he realized belatedly.

That night, he didn’t prepare his room. He didn’t even call you.

(Not that you reached out.)

He merely stared up at his ceiling, his heart in a constant flux of rapidly beating or stopping completely.

He groaned loudly as he played through the day’s earlier events, thinking himself stupid for giving you a fucking baseball. You don’t even like sports. Did he think he sounded cool when he said all of that cringey stuff?

It’s your win?

But despite the feeling of wanting to curl in on himself, he couldn’t help but still agree with his earlier self.

You did win his heart, after all.

(He threw his pillow at the wall.)

──────────────────

“You’ve been liking her posts more easily.”

Jihoon merely grunted as he tapped away at his computer, Soonyoung on the couch beside him. “I decided to just… stop overthinking. Well, more like just stop thinking in general. I’m too tired to try and pretend I’m smarter than I actually am.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. “You got it bad for her.”

Jihoon glared at him, who was scrolling through his (Jihoon’s) phone. “Be careful what you say. For the amount of songs that are about her, she covers basically 60% of your salary.”

Soonyoung laughed. “Guess I owe her a lot, huh? If she didn’t up and leave, you wouldn’t have come here and we would’ve never met. So, I guess I’m grateful to her. Plus. She’s cute.”

“She’s more than that.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Soonyoung went quiet for a moment. “She… A part of me really doesn’t want to trust her. I keep remembering that day, you know. Where you just… didn’t seem like yourself. Barely there—” Jihoon cringed at the recalled memory. “—but she also just seems so genuine that it makes it hard. I want to be your bro, you know? Bro code and all—”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“—And I’m nothing if not a bro. But I don’t think you’re the type of person to be hung up on someone who’s not trustworthy. Like. You lose interest in people easily if you don’t see them on a regular basis. But her? It’s been years, bro.”

“Okay, bro.”

“Just letting you know I support you in your decisions,” Soonyoung stated, but there was an edge to his voice that sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than Jihoon. “If she’s really who you say she is. If she’s the one who’s captured that stubborn heart of yours. Then I’ll do everything I can to help you out—Oh, she posted again. Wow. She posts often and yet still gets over a thousand likes. It hasn’t even been a day. Oh wow!”

Jihoon twitched but tried not to show his eagerness. “What?”

“They’re doing a donation drive for the group home that she works with. Ey, how can someone who does volunteer work to help kids and teens be a bad person? Jihoon, are you kidding me?”

“Young-ah, you’re the one who said it, not me—”

“So close-minded, Hoon.”

Jihoon rolled his computer chair over to Soonyoung, snatched his phone back, and smacked the annoying gnat’s hand in the process. Soonyoung yelped in pain, but laughed it off. He saw your post (noticed that Soonyoung ‘liked it for him’) and a figurative lightbulb lit up over his overworked head.

“This looks like something Bumzu-hyung would post on his story. Maybe I can ask him to share it. Oh, but this is her private page. Oh wait. She tagged the group home.”

“Thanks for the play-by-play.”

Jihoon ignored him and clicked the profile to see they had the exact same e-flyer post. But he knew that you’d probably notice there was an influx of donations (hardly anything got by you) and he didn’t want to bombard you with unsolicited help.

But it’s for a good cause!

But he might be trespassing on her territory.

Everyone cares about youth and kids!

This group home wouldn’t have even caught his eye had it not been for you.

He groaned inwardly. “I don’t know whether I should ask Bumzu to reshare or what—”

“Dude, just ask her if you can share it and then wait for her reply. It’s not like there’s only a one day donation thing.”

Jihoon blinked at Soonyoung. “You’re right.”

Soonyoung immediately sat up straighter, pulling out his own phone from his pocket. He opened up his voice memo app. “Say that again, I need to record that so I can set it as my ringtone.”

Soonyoung pressed the Record button, extended his phone receiver to Jihoon, who leaned in promptly and said:

“Fuck off, Kwon Soonyoung.”

──────────────────

“Kwon Soonyoung, what the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean? It’s not like I planned this.”

Jihoon glared at the boy before him who was somehow wearing matching clothes again. He specifically came home after rehearsal to change into something different and yet, here he was, matching with this endless energy ball. Jihoon specifically changed out of his all-black garment to choose a long, plain blue button-down overshirt and ripped, dark jeans. Something different from his usual style of a t-shirt and shorts.

Yet, there Soonyoung was, in nearly the same outfit, minus the overshirt being a blue flannel.

“I think this just means that we’re soulmates, Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon pulled back his fist as if to hit Soonyoung, but the latter didn’t flinch at all, only laughed at the expense of his friend. The other members were downstairs waiting for them so Jihoon didn’t have enough time to change out of the outfit. And it felt almost ridiculous to give this more attention than it deserves, as if he was losing by admitting that it bothered him to the point of needing to change clothes.

But Kwon Soonyoung, the man that he was, would not let him live it down.

“Wow, we look like a couple. We should go on dates, huh? Get some sushi or–ack!”

The shorter of the two pressed his foot against the back of the other’s knee and Soonyoung nearly came crashing down had it not been for his instincts to catch himself.

Jihoon huffed down the stairs, shaking his head at the situation and readying himself to be made fun of by his members. Once he got through that door, it was game over.

And he was right.

Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Dino were the ones who rallied the rest of the group to heckle, which only added insult to injury, as those three were the ones who had the longest rap sheet to make fun of. Jihoon kept his disgusted face on as Soonyoung wrapped his arms around his shoulders, announcing to (what seemed like) the world about how he’s ‘matching with his best friend.’

Jihoon came back with a slew of half-hearted insults at the rest of his members, but they unfortunately outnumbered him. He is rarely on the receiving end of this level of teasing, but he was dragged into it thanks to Soonyoung, who was eating it up.

Even in the midst of it all, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel thankful that he even had someone to accidentally match with who would wear it with such pride and not shy away from it. Sure, it might seem dumb and annoying, but it reminded him that he could have that kind of playful relationship with others outside of you. He had other friends in school or at baseball, sure, but none were as comfortable, as relentlessly fun. He thought there would never be another you.

And there never was, but that feeling of acceptance, of joy, of gratitude.

He was able to find it outside of you.

Which was a heartbreaking realization before, but now he only hopes you’ve done the same.

And mere hours after his own outfit debacle, Jihoon sees your instagram story to find you accidentally matching with Hyejin, her making the same face that he did not too long ago. But you had a shit-eating grin, no doubt proud of causing a disruption in your friend’s life.

Your caption read: “oh, you and your soulmate are tied by a single, red thread? that’s nothing compared to the matching threads we got on right now. eat your heart out, makoto shinkai.”

Beneath it in smaller letters: “if you can’t tell by her face, this was not planned at all, but man, am i really rolling with it.”

Jihoon snorted at the serendipity of it all.

Perhaps the string of fate really isn’t just a single thread.

──────────────────

It was a rare day in which Jihoon found himself at home.

Which meant he had a lot of time to think about you.

(You replied to him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. But he was, pleasantly so. Of course, it included a thumbs up emoji which was the visual manifestation of the acquaintance zone, but he would take what he could get.)

Album preparations were underway, and although there is a part of him that feels as though he should be scrambling, especially as their anniversary date was literally tomorrow, he thought back to a voice from his youth.

Years ago, he laid in his childhood bed, struck with a nasty fever from pushing his immune system too far by attempting to balance school and various music competitions. There was a half-asleep you, exhausted by misplaced guilt, with your fingers intertwined with his, who said: Jihoonie, Koreans always say ‘fighting’. I told you that this morning, and I knew you weren’t feeling well. I could’ve stopped you. And now here you are. I said ‘fighting,’ but why? Why do we have to fight? Life isn’t a battle to win. You don’t have to overcome anything, okay? You can just lay here and be with me. Please don’t get sick again. Please remember to rest. Some days, it’s okay to just be.

So, here he was. Simply being.

Whenever massive events (like SEVENTEEN’s six year anniversary) happened, he made sure to spend the 24 hours prior doing nothing than just being, to gain enough energy to last the following day.

Otherwise, the nagging guilt would get to him.

You were always weaving stories with even the thinnest of threads. Your knack for adding dramatic flair, amping it up to eleven, was a nightmare sometimes. For example, when he got sick and you kept repeating that you should’ve said something instead of letting him go on stage only to nearly faint afterwards. You took on too much responsibility for things outside of your control, which only caused you to lose your grip on what you actually could.

His chest tightened at the thought of you losing your grip completely. There were very few things in life that terrified him, but you potentially ending yours was one that plagued him until he learned how to remain steady when you were feeling unsure, and even still, it tore him up inside. But he knew that it wasn’t his battle to face; he wasn’t meant to save you. You reminded him of that time and time again, so instead, he learned how to let you live the life you weren’t sure you wanted. He observed warily.

As a teenager, he knew just how bad these thoughts could get for people at that age. He knew how people fell prey to the lies that they were unworthy of life and love.

So, he simply tried to be as honest as possible. He would do his best to not invalidate your experience, but he refused to enable those insidious feelings. He would come off as abrasive, he was sure, but your ability to detect bullshit was like no other. Your parents had a big hand in that. So, instead, he was truthful in his own way, in his own language, one that you learned to understand.

A few years ago, you did a two-part YouTube podcast at Yale. The first one was released a couple of months prior to the second, and he’s sure at least one hundred of the views are from SEVENTEEN (not all him, his members also took away a lot from your words).

He listened to that podcast time and time again. He heard the life in your voice, the curiosity of the future outweighing the pain of the past. You said that life was, at first, a means to be with the people you loved. But you slowly came to believe that life was something that you would choose to love every single day, and so you did.

He hoped that you still did, but trusted that, if there were days that would come where you did not, you would reach out to someone to wait with you until the storm passed and you could choose to love again.

His chest filled with pride thinking about how far you’ve come.

But he couldn’t help but wish there were some things that remained from back then.

That glimmer of hope spurred him to become mindful of the object he was fiddling with in his hands. He held up a bracelet of years ago, hardly worn by time or by him. He wasn’t sure whether he was still allowed to. It was one-half of a pair, but if its partner no longer existed, then.

However, he never had the desire to throw it away.

The metal charms felt both foreign and at home in his hands as he fiddled with them, the faint clicking sound of the chain barely registering as his mind was in an entirely different place. His eyes focused once again on the charm of the sun caught between his fingers.

If only catching you was as simple, he mused.

Jihoon sighed and covered his eyes, desperately trying not to cringe at his internal monologue, habitually reaching for the Chopper plushie that you gifted him years ago, squeezing the body to diffuse the embarrassment he felt.

He remembered when he saw the charms at some random shop he heard about from others and thought you would enjoy, so he decided to scope it out in advance for the two of you. It was easy, on his way home after spending a few hours on his own to rehearse his clarinet, a regular occurrence.

Although there was no doubt the two of you gravitated towards each other, you both valued your independence and alone time.

──────────────────

“We’re giving us the chance to miss each other, Jihoonie.”

“Who said I’d ever miss you?”

“Well, gosh darn. Guess I’ll cover for you and miss you twice as much.”

“…You’re dumb.”

“Yes. Can I have some of your fries?”

──────────────────

He retaliated by taking the ketchup bottle and squeezing them all over the tray of fries and you immediately retracted, believing that fries should be dipped in its respective sauce (unless they were loaded fries, of course, which warranted using a utensil of sorts).

He chuckled to himself. Fifteen was one of the most turbulent years of his life, but there were plenty of moments (like fries drowning in ketchup) that reminded him it wasn’t all intense.

Your fifteenth year started off with that charm bracelet.

Two weeks before then, you were so moody that he nearly gave you your birthday gift earlier than he intended, just so he wouldn’t have to see you be so upset (for which, he has only a vague remembrance of what could have made you so upset). Of course, it might have been easier if he had simply brought up his concern and asked how you were, but he knew you would have brushed it off as nothing.

He paused.

Did he know that though?

Or did he just assume?

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own self-reflection.

Communication was easy in theory.

Application, however.

He often found it difficult, matching your pace.

You were always so quick.

Quick-witted. 

Quick to anger.

Quick to assume.

Quick to run away.

He heard a soft knock at his bedroom door (which meant it wasn’t Mingyu or Soonyoung) and he grunted in response. The door slowly opened (that ruled out Seungcheol and Chan) and revealed who decided to greet him in such a manner.

Ah, he was right.

“Woozingi~”

“Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Jeonghan moved to sit at the edge of Jihoon’s bed, with his legs crossed. “The members are wanting to get dinner tonight altogether since we have a schedule tomorrow. The staff said they’ll pay since it’s our six years.”

This had Jihoon propping himself upright. “Barbecue?”

Jeonghan snickered. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get ready in a few hours. But I just wanted to stop by and tell you in person since I know you like to mute the group chat.”

“That’s because it’s constantly going off,” Jihoon grumbled.

“Yes, that happens when people are trying to have a conversation, Jihoon-ah. You should try it sometimes. Especially since it sounds like you have communication issues.”

Jihoon winced. “Hyung. Your timing is terrible.”

“No, it’s impeccable. Just not for you. Anyway, a word of advice.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t have to fear rejection anymore,” Jeonghan started, slowly, the words seeming almost foreign in his mouth. “Regardless of what happens with her, you have people in your life that care about you as you are. You don’t have to try and match her. I don’t want you to subconsciously fall back into a habit of appeasing her because you’re afraid of scaring her away again.”

Jihoon blinked slowly. “I wasn’t expecting actual advice, so I’m a little stunned right now.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest. The other members told me to come talk to you because the rest are either too scared or don’t know what to say.”

“Hah, we’re back to our trainee days, huh?”

Jeonghan grinned, probably recalling the amount of times that he was the emotional support pillar of the boys before they each learned to open up to each other. “Speaking of, I remember when I first met you. You were a teen with a cold-hearted exterior and a lot of opinions as well as the weight of the world on your shoulders. You had the responsibility to carry the music of twelve other guys and you had just lost something that was precious to you. You threw yourself into your work and that became your identity.”

“I—”

“I know you’re not that way anymore, but I’m just reminding you that, no matter what happens with her, no matter how she may respond, you aren’t that cold teenager who had to bear the weight all on your own. You’ve grown and are surrounded by people who can help ease the load.” Jeonghan paused for a moment. “Also, if I could think of a member who laughs easily at anything, you are one of the first that comes to mind. So, it concerns me that you haven’t been laughing lately, even when Mingyu accidentally sneezed out his ramyeon noodles—“ Jihoon snorted at the memory from last night. “—and, if I can assume anything about her, I don’t think she’d be very honored to know that it’s because of her. So. Come back to us, Jihoon. If she’s really meant to be in your life, she can match your rhythm. Don’t leave us in the dust.”

“Is this a long-winded way of saying ‘bros before hoes’?”

Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Maybe so!”

──────────────────

“Our Jihoonie~”

The teenage boy grunted in response, shooting up a look at one of the older members. “Is there something that you need, hyung?”

“You speak so formally, it’s off-putting.”

“That’s because someone refuses to act his age.”

“What a tough Busan guy,” Jeonghan teased.

Jihoon’s face twitched.

“Bumzu-hyung is looking for you. Said he wanted to finish up some more lessons.”

“Agh. I knew he was going to have criticisms. I’m barely getting a grip on this music production stuff, so I don’t even know if what I’m making is good enough to sell. Everyone might hate it.”

“Even if everyone else hates your music, just know I’m one of your biggest fans.”

“...If my music is hated, then we won’t make any money, which means you’ll be poor. What? Is it your dream to become poor?”

Jihoon expected Jeonghan to laugh and tell him that he was right and that money mattered. But instead, Jeonghan replied, “Jihoon. Your music is good. And if we don’t make money because other people aren’t able to see it. Then what’s the point? You say that it’s your responsibility as to whether SEVENTEEN succeeds or not, but, we’re thirteen members. Three units. One team. We’re SEVENTEEN. Stop acting like it’s all about you. Maybe my dream used to be becoming rich. But now, it’s just doing this. With all of us.”

──────────────────

Jihoon stared at his hands, at the charm bracelet. “Is it selfish to want this life and her as well?”

“Maybe it is. But, so what if you’re selfish?”

“Isn’t being selfish supposed to be a bad thing?”

“Just hope that she’s as selfish as you are,” Jeonghan shrugged. “By wanting her in your life, does that mean you want to be with her romantically?”

Jihoon paused. “You know, I’m not sure. I think I would be over the moon if we could even just be a part of each other’s lives. To have that line of communication open. But as the people that we are now. I think I’d like to meet the new Y/N. She probably has more in common with the new Lee Jihoon than the old her anyway.”

“You two have grown apart, aren’t you worried?”

Jihoon went silent for a moment, trying to pick out the right words. “Rather than grown apart, it feels like we’ve simply grown in separate spaces, by taking different routes, but our lives seem too intertwined for our paths to never cross again. Plus, she’s one of the few people that I could really be myself around. It’d be nice to have another safe space like that outside of SEVENTEEN because who else can I complain about you all to, that wouldn’t cause conflict between us?”

“Ay. What is there to complain about?”

Jihoon gave his hyung a pointed look.

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan started. “But be honest. Real talk. You really think she wouldn’t spread it to Dispatch?”

“She has always valued people’s stories more than anything, so it really annoyed her when other people would take out-of-context excerpts and twist them. So. That’s how I know she wouldn’t spread it. Also, if she was that kind of person, she would’ve done so by now. She has a ton of blackmail material on me.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Interesting. You said she likes stories, so is she a writer like you?”

“Not in the traditional sense. She’s more of a speaker than a writer. In high school, of course, she had her awkward moments like everybody else did, but even then, she was a tier above the rest. I don’t know how to say this kindly, but she doesn’t really think before she talks, but she doesn’t usually have to because what comes out is almost always what she intended.”

“So, she must be eloquent then.”

Jihoon clicked his tongue. “Just because things come out as she intended doesn’t mean she wouldn’t intentionally be mean or annoying.”

──────────────────

“You like unnie, don’t you?”

Jihoon spluttered. Shit, shit, shit. He tried to gather his thoughts, but failed. He wasn’t good with spontaneous spoken words, that was always your realm of expertise. He needed time to think of the right thing to say, but you never waited for him. “F-Firefly, I—”

You barked out a laugh, and he nearly retaliated at the harshness. He wasn’t sure why exactly you were being so harsh. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. She’s pretty high up there, above us mortals. From now on, I’ll do my best to help you out, yeah? That’s what best friends are for. Plus, you’re like family, like a brother to me, so.”

Jihoon sank back.

Family? Brother?

He wondered why that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t being called family the highest praise?

So why the hell did that piss him off?

Instead of speaking his actual thoughts, his mouth had a mind of its own. “I can handle myself, Y/N.”

You sneered at him.

God, you were so infuriating sometimes. 

She wasn’t like that.

She was the soothing waves of Busan, ebb and flow, constant and expected. She was everything you weren’t. She was older, more experienced, graceful, calm, soothing.

She was beautiful.

But she didn’t have that burning fire you did. Didn’t have him reacting the way you managed to every time you opened your damn mouth or rolled your eyes—there you went again!

What the hell was wrong with you?

Rapid escalation, raised voices. You, accusing him of not trusting your judgment and hiding his crush from you, saying that you wished he trusted you. Him, arguing that he didn’t need to share every little thing, that it wasn’t about his trust for you at all, and that God, he did! He did trust you! Of course, he did!

So, why didn’t he tell you about the stupid crush?

It wasn’t that deep, but you were convinced it was, and he was too tired to even try and correct you. So, sure, he could be “in love” with his noona, like you believed. Because then he wouldn’t have to untangle the mess in his chest. He could shove it under the rug like he always had, always would.

You slammed your fists down onto the table before you walked away from him, in a rampage. Like a damn wildfire trying to clear everything in sight.

You were a volatile thing, explosive, even.

But.

You fizzled out just as fast.

He awoke around midnight to the soft knocking at his window, your silhouette perched on the thickest branch the tree outside his childhood home had to offer. He had half a mind to not open the glass pane but he saw you shiver and his body leaped out of bed without a second thought.

“I’m sorry, Jihoonie,” you said, a few moments after you clambered into his room.

“Okay.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being friends with me anyway.”

“Sure.”

So, he wrapped your favorite blanket around you, the one he kept in his room for nights like this. Color slowly returned to your face and he saw the stains of tears on your cheek in the moonlight. You muttered words of apologies and told him about your day, not having the chance to earlier.

You were better like this, quiet, but not silent. Like a crackling fireplace beckoning all to come and listen, to be enveloped in warmth and light.

He never once called you his family.

But he’d be damned if you weren’t his home.

──────────────────

“Funny enough, despite the fact that she’s more of a speaker than a writer, even more than that, she’s a listener. She listens to more stories than she tells them. I think that’s helped with her pride. If she knew she messed up, she would always apologize, even if she hated doing it.”

“Well, that’s one lesson you haven’t learned from her yet.”

Jihoon pulled a face and Jeonghan laughed in response. The older of the two snatched away the Chopper on the opposite end and started throwing the doll up and down.

“Alright, lover boy. What I got from this conversation is that you’re still in love with her, but you gotta make sure she’s worthy of your love, alright? Heed my warning, don’t be afraid of being rejected by her. It’s already happened anyway, and here you are: world-star idol with twelve bros behind you no matter what.”

Jihoon cracked a smile. “You’re right. I got lucky.”

Jeonghan tossed Chopper back in his original vicinity. “I think Dokyeomie wanted to ask something from you too, but I don’t remember what it was, so maybe you can go get ready and he’ll come find you.”

“What a useless messenger.”

“Your luck can’t be perfect, Jihoon-ah,” Jeonghan quipped. He turned to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. “I hope to hear her story one day. Hear her side of things.”

“…Me too, hyung.”

──────────────────

“How much is the corn dog?”

“Hmm… Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

Jihoon mustered as much displeasure as he could hold in his six-year-old body. “Y/N, you can’t pay with stories, that’s stupid.”

“It’s my shop!”

“Jihoon, we’re just playing pretend,” your cousin added, his eyes darting between the two of you, likely worried about needing to do damage control.

“Hyung, her idea is dumb!”

“Why!” You whined. “People pay with money all the time, but you can get money whenever! I don’t get to hear stories! I like stories! My parents don’t read to me every night like yours do, Jihoon!”

Jihoon stomped out of the playroom in annoyance, ears grated by the sound of your crying and your cousin’s failed attempts to console you. Stories couldn’t buy the new toy race car that he got. Stories couldn’t buy him candy at the corner market near the kindergarten. Stories couldn’t buy a GameBoy.

Stories didn’t matter.

Money mattered.

Still, nearly a decade later, you never failed to ask for your unconventional form of payment every time he took a portion of your lunch. He knew you packed more for him anyway. And he knew you would always ask for a story in return.

And he intentionally packed smaller meals so he could tell you about how the History teacher had botched up his classmate’s test and accidentally graded off by one, about how the clarinet solo he was learning required a finger pattern he wasn’t used to, about how that one guy—oh, the tennis player?—no, no, the flautist—isn’t it flutist?—it doesn’t matter—yes, it does, Jihoon—anyway, he asked out a girl—the senior?—yes—oh wow, how bold.

And you would smile in return, sliding your food choice of the day within his reach.

He learned that you hated money; it was the one and only thing your parents ever gave you consistently. Simply, it was the manifestation of their love (or lack of) for you.

So, he paid you with recountings of the mundane. You never complained, even when he felt as though his storytelling skills were lackluster. He held your rapt attention; your eyes wide with wonder, voice laced with curiosity.

Eventually, he asked you why.

Why stories?

“Because without them, I wouldn’t have learned that you love the X-Men series because of Hugh Jackman, that you prefer winter over summer, that the first ever K-Pop group you listened to was Brown Eyed Girls, that when you tell me a funny story, you wait until I react before you start laughing.”

And you gave him that smile that made his heart stutter.

“Money is everywhere, Jihoon. But there’s only one you. That’s all there is to it. People, at the core of it all, are just stories. So. That’s why. People will always matter more than profit.”

──────────────────

After Jihoon readied himself for the group dinner, he plopped himself down onto the communal couch and found himself scrolling through Instagram. He stopped at your latest post, a candid shot of you reading a children’s book to several six-year-olds, your face aglow with excitement, a high chance the photographer captured you mid-way through some silly voice attributed to the character on the page.

“Hey, hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your microphone for the day?”

Jihoon didn’t even have the chance to think twice before the words left his mouth, “Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room.

“Is… Is this a hidden-camera?”

“...never mind. Just put it back when you’re done.”

“It’s blue, by the way.”

“I don’t care—”

“It makes me feel happy because it’s the color of the sky and of the ocean, which means it can be super calm or super exciting. It’s also one of the colors of our Caratdeul.”

“Okay, Dokyeom-ssi. Get out.”

“Yes, hyung. Thank you.”

Jihoon thought about how, if given the chance, you would ask Seokmin if he liked the paleness of 9am or the depth of 6pm? If he liked the gentleness of serenity or the vibrancy of cerulean? Or if he appreciated all that the shades encompassed before fading into greens and indigos?

But he wasn’t you.

You were the inspiration; the muse.

You were the reason to write.

He was just a storyteller.

──────────────────

“THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS HERE. THANK YOU TO THE PLEDIS STAFF, OUR MANAGERS, OUR CHOREOGRAPHERS, OUR MUSIC TEAM, OUR DANCERS, OUR STYLISTS, OUR CAMERA WORKERS, OUR FAMILIES, AND OUR SEVENTEEN MEMBERS! HAPPY SIX YEARS. HERE’S TO MORE!”

Everyone in the rented out restaurant cheered before drinking together. Even the sound barrier breaking screams of Soonyoung wasn’t enough to dampen Jihoon’s pride and spirit over how far they’ve come as a team. He looked around at his table, several members already seemingly drunk, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Jihoon-ah, make an exception for tonight and drink!”

He shook his head fervently. “There’s going to be several of you who are going to regret drinking when we have our V LIVE tomorrow. You’re going to look super puffy.”

“I can already feel it,” Seungcheol laughed, his eyes slightly glazed. “But the food and the beer are too good to pass up.”

Speaking of, Jihoon made sure to snatch a piece of kalbi to put onto his plate before Mingyu could. The younger one gave him the stink-eye while Jihoon merely smirked and tilted his head back, challenging him. Mingyu decided to change his target and grab at Seungkwan’s piece, who promptly smacked his hand with a “Kim Mingyu!”

Laughter went around the table as they reflected on the last six years, the amount of embarrassing moments that were brought up were positively correlated with the amount of shots that were taken.

Jihoon grit his teeth as he tried not to fold in on himself, remembering how they threw him up as a cheer and nearly ended his life by creating a Jihoon-shaped hole in the ceiling. He was so much smaller back then, easier to launch without thinking.

They laughed about the incident where Mingyu was nearly beaten to death by Jihoon with a guitar, which Jihoon argued that he still believed he was in the right. They discussed one of their first performances as a team, where they performed NU’EST’s “Hello” and they all had helmet hair. They poked fun at Seungkwan for his revolutionary English skills when he said, “are you kimbap kidding?”

They’ve grown so much.

International interviews with BuzzFeed, Seventeen the magazine, and others. GOING SEVENTEEN as a show has grown alongside them, more than just showing Carats the behind-the-scenes, but has now turned to variety that garnered the new fanbase of Cubics, and has been an honest highlight to Jihoon’s career, where they can just go wild and laugh with each other, just as they always do.

They talked about how they used to sneak in food, how they used to help each other get ready for school, how they still have the same playful spirit as they did back then, but with more trust that has formed between them (although, less for Jeonghan since his cheating at games has only gotten worse).

Jihoon leaned back, full of food and laughter and gratitude.

He wouldn’t trade his life with his team for anything.

(Not even you.)

However, that didn’t mean Jihoon didn’t want you to be a part of his already complete life.

He was a selfish human being.

He hoped you would be one too.

──────────────────

May 26th.

Six years ago, “Adore U” came out, marking the beginning of the journey of a thirteen member boy idol group named SEVENTEEN.

Now, here he was, trying to not be bullied into drinking another shot of soju after already consuming several in a short period.

Their anniversary V LIVE ended not too long ago and they did not have a schedule the following day, so the team decided to celebrate on their own, playing Mafia and messing around. A few hours ago, Jihoon would’ve hardly been able to tolerate the noise level, but since his hearing has been compromised due to his heart beating so loudly in his ears from the alcohol, he was plenty fine.

He shooed away his members and retreated back into the corner of the room, pulling out his cellphone and ignoring Mingyu making stupid kissy faces and noises. Jihoon shot him a look of disgust, but Mingyu merely laughed it off and went to go bother his next victim, who seemed to be Boo Seungkwan, a prime choice indeed.

As soon as he refreshed his Instagram app, there you were (with a highlighted gradient ring around your profile picture, your head tilted back with a soft smile grazing your features as you took in the endless sky above you).

He clicked on the circle and saw you and your friends there, a dimmed photo but your collective smiles large and wide. He recognized Hyejin and Wheein easily (the former with a disgusted look apparent on her face and the latter with a deep dimple), as they were two friends who were a common occurrence on your feed.

And there you were.

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

The corner of his lip quirked up at the cleverness in your caption.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in his system, he swiped up to send a message:

i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

His brain short-circuited.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

Who was he to think he could directly message you like this? Also, who the hell was he to figure anything about you? He hasn’t even spoken to you. Jesus Christ, what has he done?

Before he could stop himself though, his thumbs decided to speak his thoughts.

sorry that was dumb of me to assume

of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

What the hell, dude.

You were going to freak out and call him a creep and then block him.

You’ve literally never done that.

He tried to calm his heart.

However, not even ten minutes later, he realized he couldn’t take that risk.

sorry that was stupid

ignore me

congrats y/n

He felt nearly every goosebump that crawled along his skin, creeping up to his neck, threatening to choke him out. He breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping no one bears witness to him.

“Yah, Jihoon-ah.”

His eyes trailed up to see Soonyoung with a look of concern, mixed with a twinge of panic and anger.

Ah, it would be him.

“What did she do?”

──────────────────

For people who didn’t know him, Kwon Soonyoung comes off as, well, not-so-bright.

But that wasn’t (entirely) true.

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

He knew how to read a room, but oftentimes, he would purposely choose to simply do what he wanted anyway. Hardly did he ever prioritize another person’s comfort and complacency over his expression of his individuality. He knew what it took to be a performer, and he never denied himself the opportunity to be one.

So, him simply staring at his friend in silence with eyes that alone could have earned him his moniker of “Tiger’s Gaze,” was a major indicator that something was amiss.

Also, the fact that his friend was shrouded in near darkness, eyes rimmed with red, only a corner lamp illuminating his pale features.

“She went to America. She’s never fucking coming back.”

Soonyoung tried not to wince at his friend’s broken tone. Jihoon cursed like a sailor when they were trainees, but it was a habit that he slowly lost since he would often be reprimanded for his speech. He had to do the work to censor himself.

Well, the K-Pop industry was not a stranger to censorship, he mused.

“Wasn’t she already at an international school, though?”

“Yeah, but I just… I thought she would come back after graduating from that boarding school, you know? She wanted to go to Seoul National University, but. Fuck, dude. What if I’m the reason she stopped? What if she stopped following her dreams because of me? What if I–”

“She made her choice, Jihoon.”

“This is all my fault.”

“How?”

Soonyoung saw confusion flit across Jihoon’s face, but it quickly settled with a shake of his head. “It just is, alright?”

“Jihoon–”

“I’ll never be good enough for her. Fuck, I just thought if I tried, then maybe I could be, and– God, who do I think I am? Of course she’d never want someone like me–”

“Dude! Shut the fuck up, will you?”

Jihoon sat there in stunned silence.

“This might not even have anything to do with you. And if she really went to America because she’s trying to avoid you, then she’s a massive bitch–”

“Don’t fucking call her that–”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. Just like she’s doing whatever the hell she wants.” Soonyoung’s anger was slowly morphing into rage. Who was this person in front of him? He was so used to the sure, secure Lee Jihoon who would never truly get riled up.

But one mention of you and suddenly he would spiral.

Who the hell did you think you were?

Leaving this man who loved you so fucking wildly, to the point where he was just one moment away from begging on his knees for your return.

Soonyoung felt disgusted, but it was more of a ringing concern in his ears.

“Jihoon, you’re acting crazy right now. So what if she doesn’t come back to Korea? Are you gonna wait like a fucking sad dog out in the rain? Hoping that she’ll come pick you up again? You’re missing your own fucking life here.”

“I just–”

“Yeah, yeah, you love her. I get it. But… If she were to see you right now, do you think she would even want this kind of love? This obsessive, insecure kind?”

Jihoon’s face was now contorted in pain and Soonyoung tried so terribly hard to keep his face neutral. Soonyoung was plenty capable of being a soothing person, especially to his fellow members, but he was so riddled with frustration that he knew that he would come off as disingenuous if he even tried to pretend to be.

“Let her go. If she comes back, then she will. But don’t let her come back to someone who is incapable of even picking himself off of the floor.”

“...Okay.”

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

Aware of how much Lee Jihoon was in love with you.

Painfully so.

──────────────────

“I just–”

“You just what?” Soonyoung’s eyes bore into his friend’s face.

Jihoon recoiled at his tone. “I replied to her Instagram story and it was some dumb comment, but what if she thinks I’m being too much and she backs off and–?”

“Jihoon-ah.”

“...Soonyoung-ah.”

“She’s human, right?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Then why are you acting like she’s this untouchable goddess? Who cares if she thinks you’re being too much? You’re putting her on a pedestal she probably doesn’t even want, dude.”

──────────────────

“Why’d you reject the guy?”

You glanced up at her best friend. “What’re you talking about?”

Jihoon cocked his head to the side. Was it already so quickly forgotten by you? It happened at lunch and it was kind of rowdy. Poor dude. “The guy who asked you out to the dance. You said you thought he was cute before and that he was good at tutoring math.”

“Yeah, I might know him, but he doesn’t know me.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys tutored together.”

You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, we do, but. He doesn’t know me. I know him because I ask him questions. I ask him about himself. But he never once asked me a question about me. If he did, he would know that I hate public gestures. He would know that I don’t like receiving flowers. He didn’t even care to ask any of my friends about what I liked. The main reason as to why he asked me to go to the dance is probably because I made him feel good about himself. I might know him, but he doesn’t know me, and that’s one of the most annoying things.”

“What, that people don’t know you?”

“No. That people assume they know me.”

Jihoon paused for a moment.

“People think that I’m this super wholesome good kid who gets perfect grades.”

“Well, one of those things is true.”

You cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, well. The more people assume I’m on a different level from them, the lonelier it is. I just… I don’t want to be lonely, Jihoon.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make sure you aren’t.”

It was chilling, how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, as if you knew a secret he didn’t, as if you already prophesied a future that rendered his words empty. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lee Jihoon.”

──────────────────

Jihoon nearly bit his tongue.

Ever since he no longer had the security of having you be by his side, he became exactly like one of them, forcing assumptions onto you.

You were out of sight and he was out of his mind.

He told you that you could always be yourself around him, and here he was, creating a caricature of you in his head that he knew didn’t exist. To push forth the narrative he wrote. One born of insecurity. “...I don’t understand how you’ve been so right lately?”

“I really do wish I had my phone around to record you when you say that,” Soonyoung said off-handedly. “So, you’re not going to try to unsend those messages?”

“You can unsend messages?”

“Uh–”

Jihoon immediately unlocked his phone to go to his messages. There, he saw your chat. He long-pressed the message without much thought and his thumb hovered over it.

But he hesitated.

“...Just watching from afar isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”

Jihoon stared up at his friend, who had a look of (almost) pity etched across his features. Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “...No. I don’t think it is.”

“Well, if she rejects you in any kind of way, I can comfort you.”

“No thanks.”

“Yeah, thought you’d say that.”

──────────────────

Almost exactly sixty minutes later, Jihoon witnessed a miracle.

“...She replied.”

Seungkwan glanced up at Jihoon. “Who?”

Jihoon turned his screen to his younger member, who leaned forward to read his screen. Only to audibly gasp and cover his mouth with his hands. “You messaged her?!”

“Yeah, like an hour ago. Keep up.”

“Hyung, you didn’t tell me–”

“Ah, Boo Seungkwan.”

The corner of Seungkwan’s mouth twitched and Jihoon merely smirked. He turned his attention back to your messages, smiling fondly at your usage of 🥳 after greeting him a happy anniversary.

Oh shit, wait. You knew SEVENTEEN?

And he portrayed that sentiment exactly when messaging you.

(With some typing errors.)

(He may or may not have taken one, two, several shots once the anxiety settled back into him.)

(His alcohol tolerance was nonexistent.)

The messages were now rapid-fire. He found out that you were a Carat and that you favored Yoon Jeonghan.

He snorted at that, of course you would.

A lightbulb lit up over his head. Ah. He could do something for you.

He jumped up from his seat on the couch, away from Seungkwan who was watching over his shoulder the entire time who chose to remain silent because he knew he would be kicked out if he said anything compromising. “Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Woozi Woozi~?”

“Can you do something for me?”

Jeonghan stared at him, frozen. Then after a moment to process what exactly Jihoon said, the older one crossed his arms over his chest, a scandalized look in his wide eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”

“YAH.”

“Lee Jihoon, don’t yell at someone you’re trying to ask a favor from. You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”

Jihoon held his tongue, but his expression must have given it away because Jeonghan laughed and said that he would rather not die, and asked Jihoon to continue with what he was saying. “Y/N just graduated and she basically said that you’re her favorite SEVENTEEN member–”

“WOW! I like her already.”

“Hyung.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do for both my cute fan and my even cuter dongsaeng?”

“Just a video to congratulate her.”

“My videos are rare, it’s not easy to get something like this, you know.”

“Hyung, please.”

Jeonghan cackled, but quickly acquiesced. “Alright, alright.”

Soon enough, he found himself in a rhythm speaking to you. It was so easy, there was no residual awkwardness (on his end, at least) and it felt so natural. The banter was still there and so were your emoticons, escalating from the “:)” of your childhood to the iPhone emojis. You seemed so close, within reach, attainable.

That felt dangerous.

He could feel it. He could feel that desire to spill out everything he could. He spent years coming up with the words he wished he could’ve told you, some of them now award-winning songs, and it feels almost euphoric to know that he could tell you it all.

But.

He wasn’t sure, still. How receptive you would be. Would you run away like you did in the past whenever things became too much, too overwhelming? He always reminded you that you could never be that, but he wasn’t sure whether he was of the same capacity.

He wants you in his life. There is no doubt about that, especially not now.

But what if you leave again?

He cannot mess this up. He can’t.

So, he kept things light between you, jokes and jabs.

But that didn’t stop him from pushing for more, disguised in a (not-so) innocent attempt at ensuring that he would be able to have open contact with you in the future.

And that’s all he needed. A future with you in it.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

──────────────────

Yes. Yes, it was.

After a few days of no response from your end on KakaoTalk, your Shikamaru profile picture almost mocking him with his permanent deadpan look, the answer was resounding.

But Jihoon’s entire identity was based on his stubbornness.

So, he decided to take a chance and message you on Instagram.

Only to retract immediately saying you didn’t have to reply.

Stupid.

Thankfully, though, you responded within 30 minutes, admitting that @narutofanfreak123 was not exactly a username you wanted to share with anyone above the age of twelve. You both quickly resolved the miscommunication (wow, Jihoon thought, imagine if we had this before).

He chuckled at your choice of KKT username, @MadameFirefly, oddly touched that his nickname for you still held enough weight to be your moniker for a messaging app.

He did his best to casually ask what you were planning on doing in the future (not like he wanted to see if he could somehow fit into it, or whatever).

Jihoon was left staring at his phone screen, the weight of his phone now burdened by the weight of your choices. Seoul? Or New York City?

──────────────────

“You didn’t have to miss the dance just because I got a B on an exam, you know.”

“Your parents are insane for grounding you to the library for a B on an exam, you know? And for a hagwon that’s way above our grade level.”

You shook your head, not willing to admit out loud that you agreed. “What I mean is that you don’t have to keep me company while I study when you could go off and meet cute girls and sweep them off their feet.”

“Why would I do that when I can watch you and your snot-nosed face trying to do college level calculus?”

“It’s all so that I can get into Seoul National.”

“Firefly, you could get into any school, even outside Korea.”

“Maybe I’ll do just that,” you laughed. “Finally get out of here.”

“Just let me know and I’ll stow myself into your suitcase.”

“Oh please. You’ll probably be the one traveling internationally doing whatever you do. A world-renowned musician.”

“Alright, you can be in my suitcase instead then.”

“Okay, can you leave breathing holes for me?”

“No, get better lung capacity.”

You clicked your tongue at him and he laughed. “Seriously, though, Jihoonie. You could be spending your teen years the way the movies do it. You could be ‘swearing you’re infinite’ while a slow-mo cam focuses on you as you dance, surrounded by beautiful people definitely too old to be cast as teenagers.”

“No thanks.”

You put your forehead down onto the table. “Please. Do it for me. Get a girlfriend because I can’t.”

“You know, you’re probably why I can’t get a girlfriend.”

No. You definitely were.

You shot him an annoyed look. “You could easily go and find someone who’d be smitten with you. But instead you’re about to watch me get a nosebleed over how hard I’m working my brain here.”

“Maybe I’m a sadist and want to watch that happen.”

You threw your eraser at him, but easily missed, the rubber object bouncing off of the table and onto the carpeted floor. You whined at the idea of having to leave your seat and Jihoon just rolled his eyes and picked it up for you.

Sure, he could be dancing with his friends, with cute girls, with whoever. He could be surrounded by endless snacks and overly sweet punch, the dance no doubt smelling like youth and pride and reckless decisions. He would see that there are plenty of people in his life outside of you.

But, no.

If he did, you would be left here, in this almost deserted library on a Friday, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into what your parents have convinced you matters more than your health.

You gave him a large grin as he passed you your eraser before you went back to focusing on your work.

Yeah, he’d much rather see this instead.

──────────────────

Later that evening, he found himself again in his recording studio.

Our past that didn’t line up,

If I could go back in time,

Rather than roughly, but warmly,

Would I be able to let you go?

He stared at the lyrics he wrote, feeling discontent. He wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t feel any kind of residual emotions towards you. Who would be able to meet you where you were and wish you well, no matter where you decided to go.

One of his biggest regrets was storming out of your childhood home the way that he did. He could’ve had answers but instead he was left with hostile emotions and questions.

He could only hope he would’ve done something different.

But now that he is faced with letting you go, he’s not sure how easily he would yield.

He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and tried to think about this from your perspective (something he had to practice while living with twelve other boys). He breathed in deeply and thought about the you that you are now, about how the person he fell in love with could easily be gone, and you were nothing but a shadow of what remained.

But that didn’t feel right either. It seems as though the person that you’ve grown into, that you’ve flourished into, is someone he would’ve wanted to get to know regardless of whether you had history or not.

Perhaps that is because of the artifice of social media, or perhaps it’s because you carry an air of authenticity with you that has now been given the opportunity to bloom instead of stifled in the environment you were raised in. Whether or not you were mere remnants of his past, it does not mean that the person you are now is any less lovely.

He groaned loudly.

Emotional labor is hard.

How is this something you enjoy doing?

──────────────────

“You really want to become a social worker, huh?”

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It feels like the best use of my skills. I like being able to potentially help people like me and well, there are a lot of people like me, you know. I don’t know whether I want to become a private practice therapist, but that seems like a solid option for now until I know more about what else is out there in the field.”

He would disagree, but he decided not to. “I just can’t deal with all of those emotions.”

You gave him a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most sensitive people that I know.”

Jihoon felt ruffled by that. “What? What are you talking about?”

You quickly put your hands up in mock defense. “I’m not saying that being sensitive is a bad thing. I’m saying that there’s no way you would be my friend if you couldn’t handle emotions. I have way too many of them, I’m not that blind to that. Also, I’ve read your poetry and heard your music and that’s some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Like, even the way you hold your clarinet is emotional.”

“I think that’s you projecting yourself onto me.”

“Say what you want, Jihoon. You’re a sensitive soul, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Yeah, well, sensitivity isn’t what gets you awards, you know. Skill does.”

You huffed in response. “Yeah, well, once you build up the second, the first is what will create a legacy that will be one to remember for ages to come. I’m speaking it into existence now. And I lay claim to the title of being your first fan. I will support you the entire way, no matter what you do. Music, baseball, comedy. Whatever!”

Jihoon snorted. He wouldn’t dare become a comedian, but it made him feel good that you thought that was a viable prospect for him. “Whatever industry I’m in, I’ll probably have to protect you from all of the bad people. You’re too soft. Even just last week, I mean…”

“What? You mean, when Nahyun made fun of me during my presentation in front of everyone?”

Irritation washed over Jihoon. 

The self-proclaimed It Girl decided to try and belittle you while in the middle of your presentation, as you were explaining the measurements that you used in your findings, she asked whether you had ‘measured’ your weight recently because ‘you really ought to’.

He never wanted to get into a fight more than then, especially when your other classmates laughed along. It was a subpar, typical, low-class mean girl line, but it filled him with rage.

You were completely unphased by it, continuing on with your presentation, not even choosing to spare a glance in her direction.

Luckily, the teacher, not being a prick himself, called out Nahyun and pulled her aside after class to apologize to you. (Jihoon would’ve preferred a public execution apology.)

Jihoon stood just a few feet away as you accepted her half-assed effort. You paused for a moment and muttered something to her, something that only she could hear. Nahyun merely pursed her lips afterwards before walking away. Irritation rushed through him again.

“Seriously, though. You’re too soft, firefly.”

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No. I just think everyone else is too hard on themselves. And each other.”

“...You’re gonna be a great therapist.”

“Thanks. Hire me.”

──────────────────

Jihoon had his own fair share of meetings with professional counselors (especially in the midst of living such a hectic life as an idol), but he was worried whether you would be as cut and dry as they were, whittled down by years of academia. It seemed almost like they were reading out of a textbook, using vocabulary words like ‘empathy’ and ‘self-care,’ so he never saw it fit to return if it wasn’t necessary.

However, the places you’ve poured your time into left only glowing reviews for your passion and compassion for the field that you were in.

Jihoon was roused from his thoughts at his phone ringing on his desk. He looked at the Caller ID and saw a name he has been in and out of contact with for over a decade, it was your cousin. He picked it up. “Yo, hyung. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now, Jihoon?”

“No. It’s a slower day today. Do you need something?”

“Yeah, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Seoul in a few weeks. Your noona and I are planning on celebrating saying goodbye to our single days by drinking way too much within the span of 12 or so hours. I wanted to see if you were down to join.”

“I probably won’t drink, but if it’s for you, hyung, I’ll go.”

“Nice. And you can feel free to leave after the dinner, we’ll just be at an apartment we’re renting out in Gangnam, since I don’t trust those fools to walk around the streets of Hongdae.”

“I’ll probably do that, I don't want to accidentally be caught by Dispatch.”

“Right, right. We wouldn’t want to sully the name of the best producer in all of K-Pop.”

“That’s a title I don’t think I’ll ever get.”

Your cousin laughed. “You never know, you might get that award sooner than you think, kiddo. Alright, I’ll keep you updated on our schedule. But uh…”

Jihoon knew his hyung well. He was about to bring you up again. “What about her?”

“I just wanted to ask whether you’d be interested in a meet-up with her. Not that we’ve asked her or anything, but I know we’ll probably meet up with her at some point, and I know it’ll feel weird if we’re not all together, you know? The four of us.”

“Yeah… I want to say that I’m courteous enough to wait for her response, but I just know that I’m willing to meet with her, if anything. Even just one last time.”

“That… sounds kinda sad, but. I guess I’ll take it. If you’re down, we could even make it a surprise on her end.”

He imagined your deer in headlights look but couldn’t think further than that. “Sounds like we’d really be putting her on the spot, if that was the case.”

“Hey, she’s rarely played it safe. Same with you. Might as well keep the flow going. And if anything, I’ll take the brunt of it all. She can’t stay mad at me for too long.”

“We both know that’s literally not true.”

“Okay, fine. Your noona can take the blame.”

“Wow, very excited to see how this marriage will go.”

His hyung laughed. “Amazingly, I’m sure.”

A thought occurred to Jihoon and he realized it was strange that he was mentioning it as an afterthought, as if it was something to be expected, something natural and normal. “Oh, hyung. By the way, I’m talking to Y/N again.”

Jihoon heard the undeniable ‘beep beep beep’ of being hung up and he stared confused at his phone screen until he saw another phone call from your cousin. He picked up with a, “Hello?”

Your cousin sounded much more flustered than he did just seconds ago. “Sorry. I hung up because I dropped my phone by accident. Say that again. You’re what?”

“I’m talking to her again. Kind of. I guess. Like, Instagram DMing went to KakaoTalk.”

“Jesus Christ, you slid into her DMs?”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Can you say that that didn’t happen?”

Jihoon relayed the entire experience to him, only now realizing he didn’t even share all of the details with his members because it would’ve been too much teasing fodder from them. But your cousin, his hyung, was the kind of fellow that wouldn’t do that, even given the opportunity.

──────────────────

“Hyung,” Jihoon started one day, across from said person in a local Busan restaurant. “I don’t get how you’re single.”

“Why, you wanna date me?”

Jihoon’s eye twitched and your cousin laughed. Jihoon bit on his straw, the family style meal between the two young men long since devoured. “People compare us, you know.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s there to compare?”

“I don’t know. So many people around us know how cool you are. You’re good at sports, you’re smart, you have a lot of friends, you’re handsome. Everyone always says you’re one of the best listeners they’ve ever met.”

“The trick is to not pay attention sometimes and just nod.”

“I’m gonna tell Y/N you said that.”

“I’m sure she knows,” he laughed. “Well, I'm honored that you think all of those things, but those are all traits you have too. You do realize that, right?”

Jihoon grunted. “Not… really.”

“Well, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean others don’t. My cousin definitely does. She’s a good kid and has a good heart. Same with you. If you ever decide to do anything about those feelings of yours, just know that I approve.”

Jihoon nearly choked on his drink. “Wh–?”

“Oh, it was a secret?”

“Hyung!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything to her, don’t worry. And if you ask me, I’d say that you’re the only one on this planet that even has a chance. Well, except that girl from the cake shop.”

Jihoon sneered.

Fucking Woo Soyeon.

With her shiny hair and long eyelashes and doe eyes and tanned skin from her beach volleyball playing.

Giving out discounts to you like nobody’s business. Calling you cute and flirting nonstop while twirling a lock of her hair. Saying you’re her favorite customer. He could swear Woo Soyeon would throw a knowing smirk at him every time you stuttered a little too long when saying thank you.

That damned girl behind the counter, the one whose beauty and voice (“It’s just so velvety, you know? Like the chocolate cherry cakes.”) he knew you were smitten by.

She was even taller than him, especially in her heels.

At the ripe age of 15, Jihoon understood what jealousy was.

Because of fucking Woo Soyeon.

“Watch out, Jihoon. I can hear your thoughts all the way from over here.”

“Sorry.”

Your cousin laughed. “Trust me, you mean a lot more to her than cake counter girl. My cousin wanted all of us to go see the Christmas lights in the city together. You don’t see her inviting that cake counter girl, do you?”

Jihoon felt a weird sense of pride well up in his chest. Then immediately deflated. It felt stupid to feel like he won against a person who’s just trying to sell cakes to a loyal customer. “Hyung, how do you do it? You’d never let yourself get angry or jealous over stuff like this.”

The older of the two cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t get jealous over a cake counter girl.”

“Says who? I get jealous. It’s normal, you know. Jealousy isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s just what you do with it, right? Like, just because you’re jealous of cake counter girl, does that mean you stop Y/N from going to that shop?”

“What? Why would I do that? She loves that shop.”

“Exactly. Emotional maturity doesn’t mean you stop yourself from feeling the emotion, it just means you learn how to handle it as it comes. And once you practice it enough, it becomes easier and easier.”

“You make it sound easy, but it’s not.”

“Hey, I’m not anything big and special myself.”

Jihoon shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a superhuman.”

“No, I’m just human and letting myself be that,” he corrected. “Trust me, there’s plenty of good people out there. A lot of them just aren’t making the decision to do so. It’s easier to be cruel, but. I want to prove that you can be kind and still be a man. We get to define what that means. If I decided to be cruel, to become what society says is ‘a man,’ then I have no doubt Y/N would lose trust in me, and probably, all men.”

Jihoon noticed that his hyung stared at him for a second.

“Actually, maybe not all men.”

Jihoon felt embarrassed, but also honored, at the implication. “Thanks, hyung. You know, for not making fun of me. And for admitting that you also feel those kinds of things.”

“Absolutely, I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m seriously still surprised that you’re single.”

“Yeah, well. That might not always be the case if I can figure out what to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well… you know your noona?”

──────────────────

Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head at the way the events unfolded. Your cousin told him about his feelings for his future wife, but it still took a few years for anything to come out of that. He wondered whether being childhood friends had anything to do with it, as if the longer and deeper the bond, the riskier the chasm was to try to jump across.

However, your cousin still managed to do it.

“How did you do it, hyung?”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Just… how did you manage to tell noona how you felt?”

The older man laughed. “You really think that it was me who confessed? No, no. It was her. I think she was tired of the back and forth that was happening between us. I mean, so was I, but I was a coward, but thankfully, she wasn’t. Now because of her saying that she loved me first, I get to be the one who says it last. Then we start again. It’s a dialogue, you see. It doesn’t matter who starts the line, as long as it continues.”

“Oh…”

“Am I proud that I was a coward? No. I sometimes wish it was me who said it first so she wouldn’t have any room for doubt. But we can’t go back and change the past, only commit to a better future. All of this to say, though, Jihoon, it’s been long enough of not saying anything between the two of you. I don’t think you want to wait any longer.”

“…yeah. I agree.”

That night, hours after preparing for the album, Jihoon’s fingers tapped away on his Notes app.

This waiting, it’s not easy to endure.

It was past 4am now.

But he didn’t want to wait any longer.

So, he switched apps and instead of a blank Note, he began typing into a message box.

i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

A response from you was the last thing he expected, but you always managed to surprise him.

The first time he heard your voice directly in his ears, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust. But he tried to keep his voice level as he asked you about where you were leaning towards for your career.

The relief that rushed through him.

The hope that ignited in him.

That was the spark needed for him to explode.

And so he did, into words.

“I’m proud of you, you know?”

He heard your throaty stutter, one that only came out whenever you were really caught off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea,” Jihoon still couldn’t believe the two of you went to the same school. “You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So I’m proud of you.”

He could barely hear your, “It’s not that big of a deal—” over the pounding in his ears.

“But it is, firefly.”

And suddenly he was brought back to all the years before. Where he spent more years in love with you than not. How that nickname encapsulated exactly as he saw you: inspiration, guidance, hope.

“I mean, I just—”

Your flustered response only encouraged him to continue. “You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

He didn’t realize just how much he’s missed hearing you say his name. But more than that, “I’ve missed you.”

There was a pause on your end, but he was done with his.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls—” which he would never admit to being the reason he never wants to get behind the wheel again. “And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly, for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle going down. That kind of stupid.”

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was naming a memory that you no doubt remember as well, it was near traumatizing. But there was something in him that didn’t want you to forget. He didn’t want himself to forget. Because…

If I forget someday, as if nothing is wrong,

Our future will be empty and sad.

It’s not that I want to forget you.

Ah, he made a mental note to switch to his Notes app later.

“I… I missed you too.”

Jihoon couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his cheeks, almost to the point of straining them. It was already so late and he still had enough function in his brain to know he ought to cut this short now. Otherwise, he’d be on the phone with you for an ungodly amount of time. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounded so small, he had to press his phone closer to his ear to ensure he didn’t miss anything.

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

He laughed hard at that. You would say that. “Alright, we’ll just go with firefly then.”

‘We’ felt good on his tongue.

“Night, night, Jihoonie.”

“Sleep well, firefly.”

He told you he needed to sleep, but with the way that he was running on sheer endorphins from finally releasing some of that pressure inside of him, sleep was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, he imagined you getting some well-deserved rest, wondering what kind of dreams you hoped to have.

You were falling asleep, he was falling in love.

──────────────────

In less than 24 hours, he was going to see you in person for the first time in years, no more needing to find YouTube videos or podcasts or news articles or social media posts.

Tomorrow, he’ll be face to face with you.

And the dorm was in chaos.

“He should wear the white button down!”

“No, he should wear something funky, with cool patterns!”

“What? Absolutely not, hyung! Jihoon-hyung looks best in plain clothing, his skin shines that way!”

“Well, he’s been avoiding his skincare, so that might not be the best route to go down.”

“Hoon is handsome no matter what!”

Jihoon was exhausted. Why were his members more invested in this than he was?

Even Soonyoung was getting giddy. And that was a problem. When it came to you, Soonyoung was his voice of reason, but after he relayed the phone call he had with you, Soonyoung was easily won over by your: ‘I missed you too.’

“I knew it!” The tiger had exclaimed.

(Jihoon wasn’t sure whether he did.)

Junhui was thriving off of the chaos and was now leaping across the wooden floor, with Jeonghan quickly on his tail, trying to coerce him into stopping and failing miserably. Seokmin was still trying to convince Seungkwan that a funky pattern was like how, in nature, peacocks showed off to their mates—“he’s not a bird, hyung!”—while Soonyoung kept interjecting saying that Jihoon was attractive no matter what so he could just wear a plastic bag (which earned him a gentle slap by Seokmin). Mingyu disappeared for a moment after Wonwoo’s off-handed comment about Jihoon’s skin, only to return with his skincare products that Jihoon knew were going to be slapped on him soon enough. Seungcheol kept repeating in an exasperated tone, “Stop fighting, we already got a noise complaint this week,” while Jisoo and Minghao were probably off in Jihoon’s closet trying to establish an outfit for him without his consent. Hansol was on his phone, noise-canceling earphones on, completely uninvolved in what was going on. Chan was only goading on whoever was the loudest in the moment (currently, Junhui).

Jihoon piped up. “Do I get an opinion on this?”

In near perfect synchronization (including the boys in his room), everyone responded with a, “No!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

God, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[continue reading here]

[be-my-ally]

The Return Flight

Big Bunny #2

As always it's super late here, I will re-edit grammar etc tomorrow! enjoy!

Summary: It’s the next day and they’re off on their return flight. Elvis and Bunny get up to panicking and meditating, and then a couple hours of later one of the other bunnies joins them. Idk I just really can’t see elvis missing out on such a prime chance for a teeny lil bit of voyeuristic action. 

I truly tried to wiggle the wrist weights in but alas, not to be today - next time though, next time. 

Warnings: 18+, p in v penetrative sex, handjobs (v), oral (p and v), mentions of drug use, graphic description of a panic attack, f/f touching, elvis is kinda sweet in this one - except for the voyeurism + girl on girl action; TO CLARIFY - this is asked for by elvis + both parties consensually agree however, I am warning about very teeny tiny elements of internalised homophobia + the fact that reader implies she only does so (at least at first) to please elvis - she is not, however, reluctant nor unwilling.

wc: 11.4k

FYI: I’ve updated my bio to say I’m pausing requests - just until I get my inbox cleared down + posted! xx Also!!! I’ve had a couple of requests for a taglist - so this is my official mention of that; lmk if you want me to tag you in future posts! FINALLY found images of Elvis AND big bunny! pictured on the left and top right below!

Your brief encounter with Elvis had been your first experience of anything casual, or meaningless, and you’ve never had to navigate the emotions or situations before. It makes you antsy that you don’t know the correct procedure even before you’d left the plane; what do you even say to him? ‘Thanks for the sex, see you on the flight tonight?’ You’re not proud of it, but you ultimately panic to such an extent that you hide in the powder room until they’ve all disembarked. You’d not realised you’d have to hide from the other bunnies too though; they’d all converged on you as soon as you’d left - desperate for any morsel of information you would give. You’d somehow, thankfully for your dignity and the taxi driver’s ears, managed to prevent them from asking too many questions until you’d all arrived at the hotel where you would be staying. 

You were looking forward to ensconcing yourself in the hotel room, a proper shower and time to relax for the night and day or so before the return flight. That was, however, not to be, and you were thankful that you’d had the chance to at least wipe yourself down before getting redressed on the plane; your sudden lack of tights had forced you back into your dress - unwilling to be so exposed in your bunny corset. Instead of the peaceful night you had planned Daisy and Maggie were forcing their way into the room (of course, they’d have been sharing with you anyway but you can’t say that you didn’t try to run in and close the door on them) with Darla and Michelle close behind; you forget sometimes that even though they may be more ‘senior’ bunnies, they were still only two years older than you. They sit down around you, demanding you tell them everything, wanting you to fill in the gaps between the assumptions they could make from what they’d heard and when things had gone silent. 

“Oh lord, I just don’t know what to do -” You'd said after you’d recounted, blushing, the majority of the details; you’d left out him licking you, or that you think that might have been the first true orgasm of your life. You leave out that you think the hour you spent with him might have made you fall in love, and other ridiculous notions. And, for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a detailed description of him, trying to simultaneously protect him and to keep something just for you; you wouldn’t let them speculate on his size, or his stamina. But you had mentioned that he had a thing for feet, something that had been met with raucous laughter and clapping from the girls when you’d prefaced that with the story of your pantyhose being torn. You were, despite your embarrassment, glad to have these girls around you - you’d grown up in a fairly conservative part of town, and you know any of your close childhood or home friends would have been disgusted with you. They might have let it go - since it was Elvis, or have loudly judged you while silently expressing a level of jealousy but under no circumstances would they have encouraged the behaviour, or been so happy for you. Nor would they have interjected your story with their own, somewhat similar, although far less famous, tales. By the time the conversation had gotten back around to your dilemma with how to deal with Elvis again you were all relaxing on the two beds, piled up and crossed legged like a slumber party. “So really - what should I do?” 

“Just don’t change a thing,” Daisy recommends, “If he wants to make something of it let him, but you have to rise above it all. Seem like you don’t care. “ Maggie offers you differing advice;

“If you want it to happen again, just be all over him, it’s not like you have to worry that he doesn’t like you.” You consider these opposing suggestions, silent, sipping the terrible hotel coffee. Michelle speaks up, Darla nodding in agreement;

“In my experience… you’ve got to subtly let him know you’re there and available, but don’t fawn over him, just … just say hello in a friendly way and it’s all in his hands then. Remember, be casual about it.” You consider this for a moment before agreeing. It does seem to be the way of the least mortification. You try to put it out of your mind for the remainder of the break, taking the time to try and focus on resting and relaxing before you had to be back in the air. 

This time, there’s far less pomp and circumstance around his arrival; and you’re not surprised to see that it’s solely the same group again. Only Darla greets them on the tarmac - the rest of you already onboard and preparing for a quicker departure than last time. This time, you’re all in your little bunny suits, collars and cuffs, cottontails perfectly fluffed - since he’d requested it you all assumed it would save being made to change. This airport was, despite being private, closer in airspace to the larger international airport and your takeoff time was therefore far stricter than any of you would have liked. All knowing that sometimes these celebrities were as difficult to wrangle as herding a particularly difficult group of cats.

So you don’t have a chance to really look at him, take him in, until he’s brushing past you, his thick hands on your hips and waist moving you from where you’re blocking a narrower part of hallway with your body. He doesn’t say excuse me, or ask you to move, just manhandles you across him. You feel then, before you see, the soft plush fabric of his outfit, and when you glance over your shoulder at him you’re a little surprised that rather than the expensive, perfectly fitted, suit he was wearing last time, this time he was wearing a, clearly expensive but nonetheless fairly ordinary, tracksuit - navy blue, low zipper exposing the wide collared shirt underneath - his chest hair peeking out. Your tummy flips seeing him, and you stay very still where he’s put you, struggling to remember what your plan had been. He pats your ass, casually, in the blatantly chauvinistic way that should make you squirm, that implies he could and would do it to any girl at any time - although you hadn’t actually witnessed that yourself, and you’re mortified that at even that brief touch, without any words exchanged your breath hitches and your mind goes slightly blank. He’s gone by the time you try to open your mouth to say something and you try to clear your head by distracting yourself with the take-off preparations. 

Michelle is eyeing you up when you’re finishing checking the door, and she opens her mouth but you’re frantically shaking your head before she can say anything, gesturing to not say a word. She frowns, but complies - a moment later only asking you to help her sort the food out. You do so, happy to disappear for a little while and let the others deal with them for a bit. It’s not long after that the pilots signal for take-off and you sit down briefly as the plane taxies down the runway. You’re distracted enough by the situation you find yourself in; are you making it more awkward not talking to him? That for once the take-off doesn’t bother you at all and soon the plane is balanced in the air, allowing you and Michelle to finish your preparations. Daisy pops her head around the corner a few minutes later saying you’d been requested. 

You breathe in, deeply, as much as you can as a little bunny, plastering a smile on your face and you head out to the forward compartment where the group is sat. You expect to walk straight over to Elvis, but you’re stopped by someone else whose name escaped you - barely greeting you; 

“Look babydoll, last night, you made me the best Mai Tai of my life, and I’m sure you’re all…” he looks sideways, “as well trained as each other, but honey,  I’d really like it if you could do me another one?” You somehow manage to keep your face in check even though you want to scream at his barely concealed innuendo. Instead, you agree, customer service smile on your face, and turn to the rest of the compartment asking if they were all ready for drinks. There’s a resulting chorus of orders and so you head over to the bar to get started. Elvis hadn’t responded, walking out when you’d walked in - he’d gone right into the conference space and one of the boys had mimed a phone to his ear at another's questioning face. You were a little hurt to not be acknowledged but also, truthfully, a little relieved to not have to deal with him for the second. But it wasn’t to last long, upon delivering the other drinks with the other girls to many a relieved sigh,  a different man had pointed through to the conference area, gesturing to the bar, 

“Think you should take the boss a little pick me up too.” You nod in agreement but he hadn’t drank last time and you have no idea what that would mean making so instead you pour a short glass of cola, hoping that’ll do at least, and balancing the glass on the tray, head through the little curtained archway. You try not to show any emotion when you walk through, keeping your face neutral and concentrating on holding the drinks tray, the slight tip of the plane was liable to send a single glass sliding if you didn’t balance it perfectly. You hear him before you see him, curled against the wall with the phone pressed to his ear. His fingers twirling the cord as he looked out of the window, but with how dark it was outside he could only be looking at his reflection. You’d intended your poker face to display that you weren’t going to be the first to crack, to acknowledge anything but now you’re having to maintain it to retain dignity once you hear what he’s saying. He’s sweet-talking a girl, uttering promises and reassurances; 

“No, honey, darling, no - would I be ringing you now? You don’t need to nag me baby, that’s right you’re my baby aren’t ya, ye-ah, put it on your card honey, on my card, yeah that’s no problem… you know I like you in blue…” 

You know you have no claim on him; despite your activities together you’ve barely spoken to him, and you’ve only known the man 24 hours and yet a weird surge of possessiveness fills you. Or is it even possessiveness? Or just plain jealousy? Half the trouble was that you’ve never wanted someone like this — you’d never understood why the girls at school would fawn over a specific boy, it had never interested you. You’d never lain awake wondering what you should wear or how you should style your hair to best catch their attention. But today, just this morning, you’d nipped out to the nearest drugstore to the hotel and frivolously bought a new lipstick; you had no need for a new one, and certainly not in the colour you’d chosen - far flashier than you would usually wear, for some reason certain it would catch his eye, but you’d been unable to resist the temptation of putting on a bit of a show for him. To have that gone to waste, for him to ignore you, preoccupied with worrying about appeasing some other girl? Who wasn’t even there? You were annoyed at yourself, for being hurt by his actions and for doing it in the first place. 

He finally spots you in the window and he turns, waving you over, reaching out a hand for his drink off of your tray. He doesn’t verbally acknowledge you, or pause in his conversation, simply demanding you come closer with an impatient hand raised. You come towards him, dipping to allow him to easily take the glass, and you watch as he immediately tips it back for a gulp and places the half-full glass back onto the tray. He makes a little mmhmm noise down the phone as he turns his attention back to the call, and the girl on the other end. You turn to leave, not willing to simply stand there and wait for him to want the glass again, jumping when you feel him swat at your exposed thigh. You whirl back around, ready to either playfully (or truthfully, actually) confront him - once was fine but twice? But, before you can he’s back giving his attention to the phone again, looking out of the window. You take it as the dismissal he meant it, and you hate that as you walk away you add an extra sway to your walk - bunny tail bobbing with the motion - just in case he’s looking, and that you can feel your slightly smug smile from even that touch.

It feels like hours, but it was probably only twenty or so minutes later when he returns to the forward compartment, settling down into the large sofa-seat in the middle of the cabin. You’re forced to walk past a moment later and he grabs your arm on the way; 

“You look real good today Bunny - very cute.” You wiggle your tail at him and he chuckles; that deep laugh that starts in his chest but ends in his belly. His head rocks and it causes his loose hair to flop about, so different from it’s stiff look from the years prior. You beam at him, pleased to have been so entertaining. He looks you up and down again, still holding onto you,

“Like the lips darlin’. You wear that just for me?” You shake your head no, but he just laughs at you, “Ohhhh, you did it for ol’ Joe over there then did ya?” Feeling the catch-22 you’ve put yourself into you frown, you don’t want to admit that you did do it for him, but god do you not want him to even jokingly suggest you were trying to attract one of the other guys. So you do the next best thing, shaking your head and teasing him back.

“Nu-uh it was for me.” He laughs back at you, his eyes crinkling. When he calms back down he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“ O’course it was honey,” You protest his condescending tone,

“It was!” You gesture down at yourself,  “I don’t put all this on just for you,” He laughs again, eyes crinkling as he crows at you; shouting to the rest of the boys.

 “Ooh-hoo we got ourselves a real-life feminist bunny over here!” He says it mockingly, adding a sneer; “Watch out Ms. Steinem!” He scoffs,  “Now hon-ney, we both know it ain’t true… so why don’t you stop playing hard to get, admit you made yourself all pretty for me and come and sit over here. Right on daddy’s knee.” He pats his lap. You frown, you were a feminist, but his lap did look pretty inviting, and your heels were already hurting and you had wanted his attention. So, you do. 

“I’m only doing this because you’re paying me.” He chuckles again, one hand coming around you to hold your waist, the other coming to hike your legs further up and across him, his broad hand rubbing your thigh as he does so;

“Sure thing honey - you want me to tip you a little extra for whatever we’re about to do in there?” He nods his head towards the back of the plane. You frown a little, you know he’s joking but you’re suddenly a little worried he does think you’re paid to provide him with extra services. ‘We naturally do not tolerate any merchandising of the bunnies.’ That’s what the bunny bible says. Its word is law, so it’s not true that any extra services are expected. But then, when you think about it, you were told to be…nice to him. The annoying thought then registers, less concern about whether what you’re doing is against the rules, that you hope he realises that you’re doing this because you want to and not just because you’ve been told to. You try to shake this thought off, be casual - c’mon be casual, the mantra running through your head as you attempt to push all other thoughts and feelings out. After all, you don’t want him to think you’re not fun, or reading too much in to anything. 

“No-o, that’s, that’s, that’s just an added bonus.” You stroke down the zipper of his jacket, and he laughs again, grabbing your hand and kissing the knuckles.  He spreads your hands in his, assessing them. 

“God, you got such pretty little fingers baby, look at them lil’ nails  - what’s that colour called? Call-Girl Red? Scarlet Tart?” You blush, but you’re able to laugh, recognising that he would only continue to suggest increasingly ridiculous names until you did. He holds you there while he finishes his conversation with the boys, fingers brushing over your skin, until finally, he pats your thigh phrasing an order as a question - “Come through to the bedroom, doll?” You stand up, waiting for him to lead the way to the bedroom at the back of the plane; instead he stands and gestures ahead of him.

“C’mon bunny, hop to it,” He pauses, grinning after his borderline tragic bunny pun as if waiting for a laugh; you comply with a polite giggle even though it’s really not that funny, and take his hand when he holds it out, “let’s go.” When you cross into the bedroom he lets go, leaving you to sit down on the huge elliptical bed while he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You try to breathe, wondering what he has planned when he returns. 

You have no idea why you’re suddenly so nervous. There’s a rising sensation of breathlessness travelling up your chest, your stomach churning a little. You feel inexplicably sick, and for a moment you worry, as the plane bobs the tiniest bit - the motion normally soothing, that you might actually puke. He’s still in the bathroom, and you’re trying to calm yourself down - what will you say to him when he comes out? He’s expecting something now. You don’t want to miss out on anything, it had been so good last time; you didn’t want this to be the new lasting memory of your, however brief, time together. You try to tell yourself you’re being ridiculous - c’mon now, calm down, you’re fine - it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before - not like you haven’t done this before, why are you doing this - don’t ruin it for yourself - oh my god why are you such a little baby get a grip.  But that clawing feeling is climbing your chest and you’re struggling to swallow - to breathe. You’re ripping off your little bow and collar as hurriedly as you can but it doesn’t make a difference. You sink down lower, practically lying down now, attempting to practice deep breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s in that moment he comes bounding out of the bathroom - looking you over, as if he’d expected to be ready to pounce; not deal with you still fully dressed (as much as you could be in the bunny corset) and close to tears. 

“Hey - hey honey what’s this?” He sounds panicked, and his pitch only increases at the tear falling down your cheek. You try to speak but can’t; “Just - Just talk to me bunny, what, what’s wrong?”  You whine at him, trying to sit up and look at him rather than peep from your horizontal angle. He makes it easier by sitting by you on the bed and peering down at your face. 

“Nuh-uh-thing,” You finally gasp out, “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just - just got myself all twisted.” A tear slips out, and you angrily brush it away trying to stem the flow. He looks concerned for a second, patting your arm.

“I won’t - we haven’t -  we don’t gotta do anything baby, you know that? Not gotta do a thing you don’t wanna do.” He sounds unsure, like he’s not had to deal with this before, or like he’s nervous he’s upset you. It only makes the tears fall a little faster - at how nice he’s being to you when you don’t feel as though you deserve it.

“No-o no I know, I want to,  I just can’t seem to stop,” You talk through your hitched breaths, trying to explain. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t breathe.” He hums, looking over at the little table that ran the length of the wall, at the little black bag settled there before patting his thighs and sighing. 

“Right. ‘nough messing about - lemme just get one of the boys to call Dr. -” 

“No! No! No - I want you! I wanna do this!” You roll onto your side, scrambling upright and turning to grip his jacket, twisting it in your fist. “I wanna - Elvis I promise I’ll be fine in a second just need to calm down. Catch my breath.”

“Well, if its just you’re breathing all funny let me just give you a puff of an inhaler; they’ve barely got anything in them, just wet your throat really but- but they do help,” You shake your head and he sighs again, as if unhappy you’d refuse the offer. But then he nods, almost to himself, and taking matters into his own hands - hauls you up to be leaning against this thick, sturdy, chest. The zipper was a little lower than before and another button of his shirt has popped open allowing you to pillow your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you feel yourself come down. Shame creeping up as you become fully lucid at how irrational you’d behaved. You sit there for a little while - maybe as long as twenty minutes, but could be as short as ten. Elvis hums song after song at you, occasionally breaking into a little quiet verse, chest hairs tickling you as he moved. Finally you feel sane enough to push up a little, pulling away.

“Sorry - Sorry don’t know what came over me.” You stare at his chest, avoiding making eye contact. He brushes his hand over your chin, pulling it up to force you to look at him. He’s looking at you with an expression of tenderness that’s almost too much to bear. 

“S’all right doll, told you - it’s all fine.” You give him a tentative smile. 

“I’m sure that wasn’t very …sexy of me, but I do wanna give it another go, please Elvis?” He looks at you hard for a moment, directly in your eyes, as if attempting to judge you were being serious. He clearly decides you were because a moment later he’s leaning over you and moving his hand up your leg. 

But when his hand grazes your upper thigh, travelling upwards you feel yourself tense, suddenly stiff as a board. He kisses your neck, and his hand retreats. He spends a long couple of minutes stroking your arm, kissing your neck - your ears. Before attempting it for a second time. Again he gets most of the way there before you go stiff and tense. He moves his hand back to your arm,  talking lowly and slowly, practically whispering. 

“Now, darlin’ s’ok - we’ve done it before baby.” He’s soothing you like you’re a skittish horse, crooning into your ear, “If you wanna do this I need you to relax for me darling. Can’t do anything otherwise.” You nod, agitated at the accusation that you’re not already attempting to relax. 

“I’m trying Elvis - I want to too! I just, it’s involuntary!” He hums - looking over at the bag again -

“Look, honey, I’ve got some, some ‘ludes you can take,” You frown, you didn’t think Elvis was known for doing disco drugs. “I take ‘em to uh help me settle down baby.” You start to speak, perhaps to question the veracity of this claim or where he gets these from - considering his position on recreational drugs. But before you can he’s talking again; “Don’t get me wrong doll, I’m not - don’t get it twisted - they’re prescribed.” He pauses again - “But they’ll sort you right out, real leg spreaders. Won’t change your mind, if you say you want it you still will but, trust me, they’ll relax your body enough.” You shake your head at him, not admitting that while you would love to breathe the concept of not being in complete control of your body was terrifying, instead taking deep breaths to try and force yourself to relax a little more. 

“No-no, no need for that, ‘m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me - I’m so nervous today - I just, sorry - just need another minute.” He sighs again, and although the irrational part of your brain worries it’s in annoyance you can tell he’s more annoyed about you consistently declining his offers of help. He’s still doing his best to soothe you, delicate fingers firmly rubbing your arms and sides, a constant motion. “I just - I know it’s ridiculous, but I still feel like I can’t breathe properly.” His fingers stop on the boning of the corset, and he taps it - as if he’s discovered an answer. 

“Awh no this is silly now doll, who could all squished in there like that.” He gestures down to where your chest is threatening to spill out of the tightly laced and zipped bodice. You frown, you’re pretty sure it’s mental and not physical but now he’s drawn attention to it you feel like it’s tightening around your middle. You twist to attempt to unhook it yourself - moving forward to bend out of his lap; “No, no darling, let me - I’ll get this thing offa you.” He pushes you further forward a little way, and then with surprising skill deftly undoes the bunny corset. You don’t want to admit it but the moment the hooks fall away you do feel as if some of the air has returned to your lungs. He’s gently and firmly peeling it away from your body, pulling it down and off of your legs - tutting and stroking the little red marks where the seams and boning have dug into you a little - whether because it was just generally too tight or because you’d been contorted into a slightly awkward position. 

“Lord almighty - they doin’ that to you every day?” You shrug, about to say that it wasn’t that much worse than some of your tighter dresses or your panty girdle. He holds it up though, looking at it with distaste, rather than the humour he had the first time he’d seen it off of you -  as if seeing it for the first time. “They should make ‘em stretchier! Or - or - a better lining!” He frowns again, “I’m gonna ring Hef and tell him - it’s not right!” You shake your head, the conversation at least distracting you from your lungs. 

“Elvis - it’s not like I’m meant to be naked right now. How would you supposedly know.” You gesture down at yourself, a little flushed at the realisation that you were, in fact topless and therefore nude from the waist up. He laughs at you, a little condescendingly. 

“You ‘spect me to believe he doesn’t know what you’re up to?” He pauses, “Or that…, bunny, you know, I was, uh, warned that you girls would be… available.” You grimace, it makes you feel like a whore when it’s put like that and you try to return you mind to the point you were trying to make. 

“Well, still, if it’s because of me that the boat gets rocked - I like my job, and it was at your request we’re proper bunnies today and not in our flight uniforms!” He rolls his eyes at you, huffing at the accusation.

“Ok, ok. Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” You laugh a little, and you notice your chest bobbing with the motion - it makes you suddenly very aware of your nudity, probably a sign that you’re starting to return to normal, and you wrap an arm around your middle while scrambling to sit properly upright instead of in a semi recline. He looks at you sideways, starting to lean down, 

“Well - now we got that sorted - “ You cut him off,

“It wasn’t about that - it was just, I just got all caught in my head, I think I’m a little messed up; it happens every now and again. It just - anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Could you, sorry, would you pass me my bag from over there?” You nod towards the bag just inside the door, it had been a little presumptuous perhaps but you’d left it close enough that if you had missed the mark it wouldn’t have been tricky to move or hide it. “I’ll get changed now.” He frowns, he’s sat upright again himself, but doesn’t move for the bag, instead pulling your arm around and dragging you to sit over his legs again - he leans back, pulling your head to lie on his chest. 

“Babe - there’s nothing wrong with you… you just gotta, gotta put a little of it into the air, believe it’s happening for a reason.” He pauses, one arm moving up to wrap around your waist, the other stroking your arm, catching on the little cuff that was still there. “You gotta promise you won’t - it’s no secret, not anymore, but I don’t share this with everyone - so you promise you won’t laugh?” You nod, as best you can - he sounds nervous. “My mama, she er, she always used to say I was real special, that I had a gift.” You nod again, assuming this is about to lead into him singing something to you which, while you didn’t think it was going to be key to ending these nerve attacks you keep having, is certainly not something you would discourage. “But, she uh used to say I had the power to heal things, and, and I think its true baby, so will you - maybe if we can; if I can give you some of my ‘nergy and we think about it - real hard - together, we might get somewhere? Just gotta, gotta connect - spiritually. Maybe if I, If I push on you, and we meditate together we might, it might help?” He looks so hopeful and sounds so earnest that, despite your misgivings about the veracity of these claims, you agree. 

“Ok, ok - if you think, if it might help. I just, I do wanna do things with you, I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“You won’t baby, you won’t.” He sits down, cross legged at the top of the bed, pulling you around to sit in front of him. He makes no mention of your nakedness, and you’re doing your best not to notice it yourself. “Ok, honey, so just, I’m gonna put my hands here, and you’re just going to breathe with me ok?” His eyes are bright, and his face open, like he’s simply excited to be able to share this with someone. You nod, placing your hands on top of where his are resting on his thighs. “Hold on baby, let’s get these offa ya too.” And he unbuttons your little cuffs, rubbing your wrists where they’d sat, “You don’t hafta, don’t need to think about anything ok darling? You just sit there, and focus on my hands and match my breathing ok? I’ll do all the hard work.” You nod again, and he shuffles himself a little, as if getting himself ready to settle in. “Oh - and I want you to close your eyes.” You look at him for a second, attempting to gauge that he’s being serious and this isn’t some kind of elaborate set-up. He gazes back at you, blue eyes completely calm, and you let your eyes slip closed. He hums a moment later, and then you feel him clasping your hands. 

You can tell he’s focussing his breathing, slowing it down and drawing it out, and you match him as best you can, feeling him spread your fingers and press his palms into yours. It takes all of your attention and sufficiently distracts you from your panic and worry that quickly you don’t realise you’re no longer thinking about anything but the light pressure of his hand on yours and the air filling your lungs. 

You’re entirely focussed on his slow, measured breaths, and your mind is blank - it’s almost a surprise when an immeasurable time later he flexes his hands, whispering at you to open your eyes. You come back up slowly, blinking in the artificial light of the plane, despite Elvis having used the dimmer. 

Although you do, admittedly, feel better you’re still not wholly convinced by his healing properties. What you are grateful for however, is how happy he looks when you open your eyes, as if pleased to have been given the opportunity. And regardless of the ability to heal you, you also feel like something has changed. A shift in the energy between you. 

His hand grasps yours, his fingers releasing you to trail up your wrist, up your forearm, and stroke back down to your palms again, brushing his fingers all the way down to your very fingertips and starting all over again. The motion of it, after the intimacy of the last half hour sends your nerve-endings alight, goosebumps forming over your flesh. You feel completely calm, completely ready for him again, your posture straight but relaxed. He moves his hands further up, brushing against your armpits and you gasp as he tickles you the tiniest amount. Suddenly, you find yourself up on your knees - leaning into him, falling into him. Your hands cupping his face, fingers tangling in his sideburns. He catches you in his relaxed arms, the soft fabric of his jacket rubbing against your nipples. He’s still breathing quite deeply, mouth parted - and it allows you to press your lips against his, tongue rapidly falling into his mouth. His hands spread across your torso, curving around your chest as you lean into him - trying to get as physically close to him as you emotionally feel.

His thumbs twirl in circles and your back arches as your nipples pebble against his soft touch - your pussy suddenly starting to feel unbearably hot in its three layers of tights and panties. You huff against his lips, pulling back to grasp the waistband of them all - determined to simply roll them all down together, saving them from him, and you do so in one motion almost immediately regretting that it left you completely bare while he was still fully clothed. He doesn’t give you a chance for it to be more than a fleeting thought though, lying you back, still focussed on making you breathless with his mouth. He kisses along your cheek to your neck and you gasp as he sucks on the sensitive patch just above where your collar bone joins your shoulder. You try to reciprocate, pushing the jacket off of him and struggling to unbutton the last of his shirt -  exposing his chest and stomach. He bats your hand away when you go for the top of his pants, pulling away from you and he stands up - surveying you. 

“You ready for me, baby?” You squirm a little under his gaze, and you’re not sure where the boldness comes from to reach a hand down, dragging a finger over your wetness, and spreading the folds of your labia open for him to see the glistening stickiness within. 

“I dunno, what do you think?” His mouth gapes at you, breathing heavily, the motion as unexpected to him as it was to you, and as you sink a finger into yourself, moaning while you do, he hurriedly removes his pants - throwing them somewhere, his eyes never straying from your core. He pushes your arm out of the way a moment later, 

“Think you look like a goddamn fucking centrefold - Jesus Christ, bunny, Lord, all for me, Halle-fucking-lujah,” He lowers himself back down, pressing a kiss to your chest, pumping himself a few times before lining his cock up with your entrance. 

He sinks into you, slowly, letting you feel every inch of him that he guides into you. The slight overhang of his belly pressing against your middle as he holds you close, pressing into you as deeply as he can get. You feel every inch of him, every fold in his skin as he pushes in - you know he’s not huge, but it’s been so long that to have something in you two nights in a row, you can feel your entrance ache a little, and inside a slight burn from the stretch. He groans, feeling your tight walls clench around him as you shift, wrapping your legs around him crossing your ankles behind his back. He pants against your ear, kissing the sensitive patch of skin right behind.  He’s encasing you in him, smothering you, the smell of him - he’d clearly showered after his show, the faint hint of neutrogena still clinging to him but his own scent, the mixture of his own musk and woodsy cologne layering over it - surrounds you. It altogether feels as intimate as the meditation did - just his and your bodies entangled together. He rests there, barely rocking into you, slowly, almost tenderly - before dragging himself out, rolling off.

“Gotta let you breathe, mama - wanna get deeper.” The concept seems impossible, but he’s pushing one of you legs to the side, rolling you slightly and clambering on top, straddling your other leg and kneeling down before he’s sinking in again. 

“Oh - shit, shit - how’re you, oh my god Elvis, that’s - I’ve never,” He knocks against your walls, blindly, until he hits the little bundle of nerves inside you causing all thoughts to leave your head, unable to form a sentence past whimpering. You prop yourself up with one hand, holding onto him with the other, it’s new for you - to be able to watch someone’s face as well as watch them push themselves into you. Being able to look at his face, his mouth open, little grunts and moans flowing as his eyes half-close in pleasure is mind-blowing; beyond your wildest imagination. 

“Oh baby, mama, you’re so - oh god, how are you still so tight, you ain’t been properly broken in yet, have you, fuck,” His hips are thrusting into you now, little jolts of pleasure running down your spine and you whine as he hushes you, rubbing a hand across your tummy, moving it up to grasp at your breast. He squeezes, on the edge of too hard, swiping his thumb across your nipple as he pinches it - causing you to clench down on him again, prompting a low groan out of his own mouth. He strokes down your torso, before resting his hand on you, it feels huge across your stomach, heavy and hot almost feeling like it’s burning through you. He slips his thumb lower, coaxing your clitoris out from hiding. 

“Want you to go with me, C’mon now baby - c’mon bun, I’m close,” He slams his hips into you, “Al-most there,” His fingers rub over you a little faster, and your nails of your supporting hand dig into your own hair, the other clutching his arm, as you tumble over the edge, shouting,

“Oh - oh - oh, god, Elvis - daddy, god, fuck that’s - oh god,” You hear him swear, pulling out just in time and spraying over your stomach, his fingers coming off of you, allowing you to come down, your body still trembling for a few moments.  

When you feel like you’re properly back on earth, a few minutes later, you’re still lying back, panting, while you hear him stand and  get himself wiped off.  Coming over to you to gently wipe away the mess on your tummy. He looks over at you, eyes still half-lidded, 

“C’mon ‘lil bunny, time to get back to work.” He pats your thighs and you shakily stand up. Despite his hurry he behaves almost unexpectedly gentlemanly and fetches your bag for you from beside the door. “Ain’t gonna make you put that torture device back on - you can do the leather if you want.” You frown, thinking for a moment - everyone will know what you’ve been up to then, but then you laugh to yourself a little - everyone already certainly knows. You pause before getting your underwear back on, slightly surprised at his speed, looking over at him; 

“You sure you won’t…don’t wanna go again?” He looks a little bashful for a second, 

“ ‘m not, I’m an ole man now baby.” Is all he says in reply, but it does the job in conveying what he meant. You look over at him - not sure that you’d describe him as old, he’s what… 38, 39? But you leave it be - dressing in the little leather coat/wrap dress. As you sit to roll your tights over your legs though he stops you, looking you over. “Bunny? Leave off the hose.” 

“Sure daddy, sure.” You obey, stripping them off again and pulling your boots onto your bare legs - undoubtedly you’ll get a blister but it’s worth it for the pleased way he looks at you and the kiss on the top of your head in reward for your obedience. You nip into the bathroom, trying to sort your hair and touch up your make-up, and by the time you’re ready to come out he’s gone. 

You walk out with your head up, and while you’re greeted with a series of smirks and some whispers you’re not as panicked about it as before, and you’re relieved he came out before you, positive that he took the brunt of any teasing. He winks at you when you pass him, dressed without his shirt now, but otherwise ignores you. This doesn’t upset you like before -  you’re content that only you and him truly know what’s just gone on and that your new, intimate, connection is safe and tucked away just for the two of you. It feels like you’ve been wrapped up in him for days and yet when you look over at the clock ticking away you realise you’ve only been in the air for an hour and a half. You feel a little like you’ve left a tiny part of yourself in that room with him, and that you should feel more vulnerable - more exposed than you do. Instead, you feel calm - your tension almost completely gone and with that you start to feel the possibility that you might actually be able to enjoy the next few hours. 

A couple of hours later, you’re dancing in the disco room - providing entertainment although you’re sure most of them, certainly Elvis, should be sleeping; unsure where the burst of energy from everyone has come from. But still, you’re dancing about with the other girls, playfully messing around, when he - from his sat position, lavender tinted glasses now on his nose, pulls you down to whisper in your ear,

“C’mon bunny, give me a little show - pick one of ‘em.” He gestures to the other girls bobbing around you. You look at him, mouth open, a little shocked at his bold request - so different from the sweet, slow, intimate behaviour from earlier. It’s not something you’re totally opposed to, but….in public? It’s as if he’s reading your mind; reassuring you -

“S’ok, baby, s’just us up here - just me and m’boys,” He pats you on the thigh, “Go on - there’s a good girl.” You stumble forward a little and make eye contact with Maggie - who was already looking over, clearly eager to share his attention. You look back over to Elvis, watching him grin at her, pleased that she seems so willing, “Just wanna watch you two kiss honey, nothing more - don’t gotta be that dirty but just… just a little. Just for me.” You nod, steeling yourself. But Maggie isn’t reluctant in any way, threading her fingers through yours to pull you closer. The tie of your leather dress brushes against her bare thigh, still in the bunny corset, and you feel her shudder against you as you step completely into her space. 

It’s a little strange, kissing her, different but simultaneously essentially the same. The startling difference was the … niceness of it, it was sweet and slow and gentle. Different from the lip biting and teasing of the men you’d kissed. You forget, for a moment, all the other people in the room, it’s narrowed to just the three of you although really you’re putting on a show for everyone, and you open your eyes - watching Elvis watch you. Despite Maggie’s lips on yours - her soft body still pressed against you - your focus is solely on him. His eyes are burning into you, and his legs are spread, thighs thick and inviting. You put a little more effort in, grasping her hair, rubbing down her back, and you listen to him huff a little chuckle when you jokingly squeeze her tail, and slot your leg between hers. You keep eye contact behind her head, watching him swallow, shifting a little to rub a hand over himself - completely unabashed at doing so in front of everyone. The sight of him sat there, looking like a sultan surveying his harem, blue eyes serious and intense, makes your eyes slip closed, and you put all your focus into the feeling of being watched and being kissed. You pull away, laughing as you both sway a little from the force of coming apart - you look over at him; 

“That alright Da-El?” He beams at you, 

“Perfect girls - so goddamn perfect.” He pats his thigh, the outline of his hardening cock almost completely visible, “Why don’t you come over here bunnies, let me have a better look.” You both do as he asks, giggling, as you tumble together onto his lap. It’s messier now, more fun, her hands scrabbling down your sides, and yours cupping her cheeks. You feel so hyper from it all that you almost feel drunk. His hand moves to support your lower back as you lean across to kiss Maggie again, giggling a little against her lips as she almost tips backwards until his arm catches her. 

“God, men fucking dream about this dolls - two little bunnies sat in their laps. But this is just for me ain’t it? Just for me?” His head is tipped back, but he swings it forward to look at you both - intensely, possessively. How a man could be possessive over two women he’d only known 48 hours, on a plane he didn’t even own, was mind-boggling - the sheer confidence required for that kind of thought overwhelming. Yet you can’t help but feel turned on by it, your own head nodding insistently to reassure him. Maggie looks askance at you, but still rapidly nods - the slight lie going unnoticed. His thigh flexes and where you’ve leant forward has hitched your tiny skirt up high enough that you’re now entirely sat feeling the soft fabric encasing his thigh underneath you rub against your bare legs. You can’t help but rock against it, just the tiniest amount. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you three, and instead of the shame you expected to feel, your stomach tightens in arousal at the sensation of being watched. He lets out a little moan, and it only makes you work harder, slipping your tongue into Maggie’s mouth as she pants against your lips. You feel Elvis’  hand slide up your body to the side of your ribcage, his thumb brushing your breast. You pull back, and he gasps as you stroke the outside of his soft trouser leg, gently rubbing the fabric over his cock. Elvis abruptly stands, pushing you both off. 

“Think there might be some important business I need to do in Hef’s office. Why don’t you two run along ahead - gonna need,” he looks sideways, jokingly, playing it up for your forgotten audience, “gonna need a couple of helping hands.” You give what can only be described as a polite smile, wondering what on earth has gotten into you that you were willing to display yourself like that in public. But for whatever reason you’re walking back into the bedroom again - this time following behind Maggie. You’re watching her from behind, and though you’ve seen her in uniform countless times you’re suddenly left wondering if her shape has always looked that inviting to grab - or if the teddy had always revealed so much of her ass. She seems far more at home in Hugh’s private quarters than you ever did the first time, and you realise suddenly that it’s very probable this isn’t her first time back here with a guest. The realisation shoots a burst of anxiety through you again, that you try to immediately brush away, that this whole thing really was just expected of you. 

Elvis shuts the door behind him when he comes in, immediately setting the mood lighting. Before resting his hand on your back and pulling you in for a quick kiss. It’s strange kissing him again now, you expect for some reason his lips to feel rough in comparison to Maggie’s, masculine instead of her soft femininity,  but as always his lips are full and buttery soft a perfect representation of the juxtaposition of his personality. He pulls away too soon and you find yourself leaning into him, eyes still closed, chasing the sensation, pouting when he laughs at you. 

“You good to go honey, or do you need a hand givin’ me a show?” You’re confused by what he’s offering, until you notice he’s holding out his hand two little pills sat in it. “Just vitamins baby,” You shake your head, you’re a little nervous but despite the environment you’re working in you’ve not taken anything yet, and the concept of it scares you more than your nerves. You’re surprised though when Maggie’s hand comes from nowhere, plucking one of them out of his palm and swallowing it dry. He beams at her, “Atta girl.” Maggie giggles at him, 

“Thank you daddy,” and he glances over at you, sideways, again before swallowing the leftover pill. 

He claps his hands, before suddenly, playfully, throwing you over his shoulder and onto the bed. You’re shocked at the display of physicality - not expecting it at all, and even more surprised when a moment later Maggie is thrown in much the same manner, bumping onto the bed and knocking into you. He settles himself up by the cushions, looking expectantly at the pair of you of you sprawled out and he gestures to the rest of the bed. He shifts, settling his hands on his open thighs, the hard outline of his cock almost completely visible through his pants. He clenches them into fists, like he’s trying not to touch. He looks, with his hair wild and his glasses on, so classically - typically Elvis that it makes your heart rate increase just watching him.

“Go on then, pretty little bunnies - wanna see you two - wanna see you havin’ fun. Give me a show.” It’s not a request but a command, and even if you’d wanted to (which you didn’t) you can’t do anything but obey. 

Maggie responds with a “Yes, sir,” as you move to situate yourself, kneeling at the bottom of the bed and she crawls over to meet you. This time she takes control, kissing you, her hands moving over the little leather coat-dress. It feels different having her lithe, nylon covered leg pushing in between yours instead of Elvis’ thick thigh. You wouldn’t go so far to say it’s better, but the friction against your thin panties and the way it allows your legs and thighs to stay fairly close, to clench and move is appealing. You can’t help but rock against her, clutching at her waist -  she laughs into your mouth, pulling your hair a little as she presses gentle kisses down your neck. You gasp, head falling back, before you pull away to lean forward again, catching her face between your hands, you rub against her, drawing her front back towards you - you giggle, whispering, 

“Mags’ I can’t - can’t believe we’re doing this...” Elvis chuckles behind you, clearly you weren’t as quiet as you thought, and that makes you laugh harder. It’s fun and flirty and you haven’t felt this chill about something in a while - the ability to just zone out and enjoy the sensations without having to worry about the future. You start to unbelt your dress, trying to move quickly - frantically, and as soon as you’ve got it unbuttoned Maggie is palming at you, pushing it down your shoulders. She moves forward a little more, and you lean back - letting Elvis get a better look at your newly uncovered skin. She moves her hand to brush against your panty-covered mound and you gasp. Your head falling forward onto her shoulder at the feel, so different from your own fingers or his thick digits, she moves her leg and you’re suddenly humping against nothing - you whine into the air, Elvis interrupting you as you try to pull her back.  

“Sl-slow down girls, get tha’ dress off and go a lil’ slower - there’s no rush. No need to rush now - just slow - slow it down.”  You nod trying to still your hips, gasping out, 

“Ok, ok, daddy - well - we’ll slow -ah- down,” and Maggie pushes you, both of you tumbling backwards. You roll for a moment, the silk of Maggie’s costume rubbing against your skin, the coolness a welcome relief to your burning skin. You suddenly catch, out of the corner of your eye, Elvis shifting, his arm moving at a rapid pace and you don’t know why, considering what you’re currently doing, you’re shocked to realise he has his cock out, that he’s touching himself watching you. You accidentally make eye contact, and you’re taken aback by the look on his face, his lip curling in pleasure. To be watched with such burning desire is shocking, and would be enough to make you shy had you not had this overwhelming sexual confidence come over you from somewhere. You absently think that you should probably help Maggie out of her corset, the pufftail isn’t comfortable to lie in and she was probably wishing for more breathability right now, but before you can offer she’s stroking a finger down you and all thoughts fly out of your head. She looks up at Elvis, questioning something that you can’t hear through your single-minded tunnel vision and hearing, but you manage to catch his reply; 

“No - no, just - just, just over top, honey, not - no, that’s just for me.” And she resumes to touching you over the top of the growing dampness of your panties, you groan at the sheer level of objectification; at being spoken about as if you were just there for his amusement, that you were his. Maggie renews her efforts though, and her fingers quickly, even over the soft cotton fabric of your underwear, find the spot to make you squirm, hips bucking into her. She soothes you, and you wonder if you should be reciprocating in some way but as her delicate fingers push the tiniest fold of fabric into you, you’re lost clutching at the fur throw, the slight friction easing as it gathers up your slick. She moves her finger to circle around your clit, bunching the fabric between her thumb and fingers and rubbing it against you. You somehow manage to blink open your eyes, leaning your head all the way back to look at Elvis; his entire focus is on what’s happening between your legs - it causes a shudder to run through you, and your stomach tightens as you feel your legs start to cramp; 

“Go on baby, hold it for me, hold it - don’t - want you to keep her just there for me - that’s it. Stop stop, that’s just for me.” She pulls her hand away and your back arches as whine, so close to the edge. 

He leans in gripping Maggie’s neck to kiss her and you can hear the wet smack of their lips together, he pulls back, briefly “Don’t worry, honey, don't wanna make you jealous…just wanna say thank you for such a lovely show - that’s alright isn’t it?” You can’t do anything but agree and he returns to her, hands on her neck and head to hold her in place. Watching it up close you can understand why he wanted to watch himself, you wonder if that’s what you look like with him too; all teeth and tongue and lips. You squirm, still feeling the possibility of your orgasm. 

“Now go on, there’s a good girl, run along now, thank you darling - You gonna be alright? You want me to get one of the boys to uh, see to ya properly?” She shakes her head, almost fondly as if laughing that she might need his help to find a willing partner.  “Well - You tell ‘em I said it’s ok.” He sends her on her way like he’s pimping her out for the night, you hate how it makes your core throb a little, and you can’t help but glow at being the very obviously chosen one; not just one night but two in a row. Maggie looks back at you, still lying on the fur throw, winks and leaves - sauntering through the door. When she’s gone Elvis turns back to you, rubbing sweeping circles on your stomach,

“Just wanna get you goin’ again for me,” His hand starts to trail down, and you don’t know what’s come over you but you put your own out - grasping his wrist to stop him wanting him to know;

“Daddy, I’ve never - that was my first time with,” He laughs, 

“Oh, honey, I know, I know. Did you like it?” You nod, and he laughs again, “I’ll bring my camera next time baby, can’t believe Hef’s not got one installed in here somewhere. What a waste.” He tries to move but you hold his hand where it is, causing him to look calculatingly over you, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Was there something you wanted?” 

“I…” You squirm under the pressure of his gaze and the tone of his voice. 

“C’mon bunny, tell me what you want.” You nod, a bit nervous - but you had stopped his hand for a reason. 

“Could you, would you… you know.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face when he responds, 

“No, sorry, I don’t.” You whine,

“Ugh - would you, with your tongue?” 

“Ohh - you want me to go back down on you? Have another taste of that sweet yittle bunny cunt?” You wriggle at his harsh wording mixed with his babying tone, but you frantically nod. He grins, taking his glasses off and throwing them somewhere on the bed.

“Well ain’t today just my lucky day.” He manhandles you into a better position, ripping your underwear off, pushing you against the cushions and shoving one underneath your hips -  moving to situate himself between your thighs. He wiggles like a cartoon about to be served at a restaurant - almost certainly to make you laugh and you comply, nervously giggling, mind preoccupied with hoping that you taste alright now that you’ve asked for it. He spreads you open, kissing your inner thigh before moving closer to your core, and you can feel yourself pulse with anticipation.

He tentatively licks you, just a gentle, wet stripe and you immediately gasp - eyes flying wide open, startled at how sensitive you already felt. Although it shouldn’t come as any surprise, you’d been slick and swollen since you’d fucked earlier, and a bit sore since last night. He flattens his tongue, spreading your folds, and moves his fingers in to keep you spread open. Your hips buck of their own accord when he wets his lips and blows cold air onto you, watching you squirm and clench in response. You can feel his smile before he concentrates again his tongue lapping at your entrance. Your legs come up, needing more support to better grind onto him and your hands move down to grip his hair, thumbs digging into the side of his face, his sideburns, while your fingers find purchase in his long strands, gently holding him in place. He renews his efforts, flicking his tongue in your inner folds and he moves one of his hands to brace your stomach down as he moves to lick directly over your clit - your hips thrusting up enough in response for you to understand the necessity of his hand holding you down. You didn’t realise you could become addicted to the feel of something so quickly, but you’re not sure you’re going to be able to live without someone, preferably him, doing this to you regularly. The warm wet pressure builds, and on top of where you were already on the edge it’s quickly building to be almost too much. He pulls back just as you think you’re about to go over the edge and you groan, but he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick. 

“Oh god - is that, is that me on you?” He grins, 

“Sure is baby, sweetest honey from my honey bun-bun.” He licks his lips, and you groan again, your tummy flipping from how close you still feel, 

“Elvis - Daddy - need you, need more,” He leans back down, whispering, crooning in babytalk to your pussy; 

“Oh baby, baby, poor little, yittle, baby bunny - daddy’s gonna take real good care of you now, no more games baby, no that’s right, gonna get you right there,” He presses his lips to your clit kissing it, nose buried in you. Your entire focus is on the sensations as he moves down to spear his tongue into you, so different from a finger or cock and you almost choke from the force of the puff of air you exhale, as he curls it just so; you didn’t even know it was possible to do that and you wonder how much practice at this he really has. 

You can’t bear to look down at him anymore, the sight of his long lashes brushing against you, reminding you of who it was between your legs, watching you almost too much and you throw your head back, eyes closing as he thrusts his tongue in and out. He moves to add his thumb in, rubbing over your clit as his tongue continues to do its job, soothingly licking where you’re sore around the entrance to your hole. Your stomach tightens as he maintains a steady pace and you clench around him, thighs coming to rest on either side of his head, as you rock on his tongue and fingers. It’s not long, only moments when the pressure and movement get you there, body jumping as you crest over the wave of your orgasm. He licks you through it, and it means you just keep going. It’s overwhelming, and not something you’ve experienced before, the extended shaking and shuddering as you jolt around, jumping with every fizzle of pleasure. Finally, he pulls back, allowing you to breathe again, panting as you force your body to relax. 

A minute or so later you’re able to sit up a little more, opening your eyes properly again. You look over at Elvis and he’s got his cock in his hand - you’re tired but you feel like you have to show him some kind of appreciation for the best orgasm of your life so you lean up on your elbows, reaching a hand down to join his, you pump it once or twice before whispering to him,

“Let me Daddy,” and you sink your mouth down onto him. He gasps in surprise swearing

“Lord hav- oh god baby, bunny, oh shit.” as you hum around him, swallowing. He was clearly already very close and it only takes a couple of moments in the hot, wet, pressure of your mouth and throat before he’s warning you, 

“Gonna, it’s, I’m gonna go off baby, it’s - I’m close, real fu-cking close.” And with that he thrusts once, twice, while you hollow your cheeks - sucking down hard and that’s all it takes for him to be spurting into your mouth. You flinch, surprised, despite his warning, at the speed the taste unexpected, but still you swallow it down. “Fuck - fuck, thank you bunny, thank you.” He’s sweet, offering more gratitude than you’ve ever received from a man. You kiss his tip as you pull away and once again fall onto your back. You lie back, panting, and he joins you, curling around you - cuddling into you for the first time since you started this whole thing. You roll into him, enjoying being cradled in his thick arms, trying to comprehend the events of the past forty eight hours and how you’re going to be returning back to your normal life in only another few hours, wondering what Maggie chose to do, when he starts to talk, fingers tracing circles on your arms. 

“You know - my daddy’s - I got ‘im buyin’ me my own jet.” Your brow furrows a little, unsure where he’s going with this - “I uh, I - you’ll still have a cute little outfit, I like - like to dress ma girls up but, but I promise it’ll be … stretchy and uh, I won’t - I won’t assume anything but - but I  sure would like it if you, you would come on board with me?” He perhaps should have stopped there but he keeps talking, “It also - it would mean more time together, bunny, fewer girls around. Well…fewer in uniform anyway.” You grimace a little - so what is he suggesting; you be his on call plane whore? You hate that you want it, hate that you’re so desperate for him, in any way you can have him - to whatever capacity he’s available that you’re going to agree. 

“Of course - that would, that would be a dream come true Elvis, I would love to,” You’re not entirely stupid though. You smile at him, agreeing but not believing - this happens all the time in the clubs too; men promising things that never materialise - the drunker they get the more outlandish the claims; cars, houses, vacations, jobs. You know of too many girls who quit because they were promised a job as someone’s secretary only for the role to never materialise to put too much stock into his question. Besides, you still have two more flights with Elvis already in Big Bunny’s calendar - you were sure there’s more than enough time for him to make the offer again if he was really serious. 

“Wha-what’s your schedule like?… You got a boyfriend?” You pause, uncertain where this is going, surely these were questions that should have been asked yesterday? You suddenly realise that you know he’s seeing someone if only from the overheard phone-call but that you also had no idea if you were turning into the other woman or something. Or if you were just a girl to pass the time with. 

“I - uh, no. No, no-one. I’m not, we’re kept quite busy…” He frowns, kissing the top of your shoulder,

“Would you, you could come watch a show if you, I’ll get tickets for you and the girls if you want?” You smile, 

“That would be lovely, thank you -” He continues, 

“You could come a little earlier if you wanted, I’m playing somewhere new tomorrow, well - uh,” he looks over at the clock, grimacing, “Today. So I gotta check the sound and things, you could come to the rehearsal? I want you there baby,” You register some shock at his last words but nod, agreeing, it sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime and you go to say it but you suddenly realise, from the little puffing breaths on your shoulder he’s fallen asleep practically mid-sentence. You look around for the clock, before you, with some wonder, discover there’s still ninety minutes left of the flight and close your own eyes too. The others can do the stewarding, you’re doing the main job - keeping Elvis happy. 

[thecryptidgrey]

As an avid lover of his Dark Materials I have yet to see a BG3 daemons concept and that is a Crime. So here are some Thoughts below the cut :)

(Also something something about the representation of religion in HDM and how it correlates to BG3's depictions of faith and trauma. I have the Idea but I am too tired to do much with it; may return to the thought later.)

Shadowheart- a borzoi. Elegant, spooky looking, dramatic. Borzoi don't make much vocal noise but are very playful- instincts surpressed by Sharrens that thrive with the party (see that very cute night orchid scene specifically). Generally very sweet, loyal animals, like SH when you get to know her. Plus they look amazing.

(Act 3 spoilers- I also appreciate that she'll match it when she dyes her hair. Seems suitable dramatic for her.) Anyways, I also really like borzois and think it's be funny af to see in them trotting around in game like the weird willow tree ghost things they are.

Lae'zel- Githyanki don't have daemons; she finds them baffling. Very impractical to carry one's soul on the exterior, although perhaps an efficient companion in combat to have someone you share instincts with. After much discussion by the others she decides for them if she did have one it would be a red dragon. Nobody argues with that.

(She does decide she'd have to prove herself worthy of such a beast first, and if she trusts Tav admits that maybe she'd like if Vlaakith could give her a daemon bond with her future dragon. Would she get a dragon if she became Vlaakith's chosen? Idk, she would now.)

Karlach- Tieflings also don't have daemons. She wants one wholeheartedly. The party finds her a magic ring that allows her to summon a familiar- she gets a direwolf puppy as enthusiastic and adoring as she is :)

Said ring is obtained somewhere in the Shadowlands after she gets the cooldown upgrade so she can hug it as soon as she has it. Also it grows up absolutely massive. Its paws are the size of its head when it's a puppy. All the better for cuddling with!

Gale- Tara. Wizards, sorcerers, etc, tend to have magical creatures as familiars. This AU he had Tara since the beginning. He still summoned all the other weird shit he did as a kid, just with Tara's help. She is his voice of reason and holder of the braincells; he gets to keep one and it's all about Mystra. She's protecting the rest from its corruption. He gets them back when the party convinces him to tell Mystra to go fuck herself.

(I do chew upon the trans Gale headcanon sometimes. If anyone wishes to muse with me on how daemons, which are typically of the opposite sex to their human, would be incorporated into that, please do.) Edit- pls see comments for very illuminating interpretations of daemons and gender!! Very cool stuff!

Wyll- lanner falcon. Medium sized yet formidable bird of prey, the head of which was often depicted on Egyptian gods like Ra and Horus. Beautiful, noble and nimble creatures (good for a dexterity based build, which I focused on for him alongside charisma).

Mizora's pact significantly lengthened their tether; her devil-form punishment broke it and weakened their bond significantly, much to their distress- they hate to be out of vision of one another as a result. Halsin, Jaheira and especially my Tav Cerewyn helped him adapt to and understand the new tether.

Druids and their daemons are based on the His Dark Materials witches, who have significantly lengthened bonds. Druid bonds are just as strong in markedly different ways; each is more independent and their personalities more distinct. I will definitley expand more on this; I adore Wyll and really want to do his character justice. He's the knight in shining armour but he also made a deal with a devil to be said knight, so, y'know. His daemon should really reflect that complexity.

Astarion- luna moth (changed when he turned- he can't remember what she was before.)

Beautiful in a fragile, showy way. Short-lived. Desperate for the light. A silkmoth; silk for embroidery. He resents her for being such a reflection of the self he tries so desperately to hide yet is fiercely protective of her, so beautiful and soft and hopeful- moths exist to seek light, craving it like he longed for a knight in shining armour, like he yearns for the sun.

Cazador liked to pin her wings.

(I love my sad wet cat very much and so as payback for hurting my soul he is subjected to the tragedy that is my attempting to be poetic :) )

Halsin- bear. Druid daemons reflect their favoured Wild shapes. Strong, steady, reliable, protective. Optimal shape for snuggles, very nice and warm, overall :) vibes to look at and be around. (Bear is not present for That Scene. That Scene and daemons are not up for discussion, you degenerates. Thank you <3)

Jaheira- Eurasian lynx. Struggled a bit on this one- didn't think any of the wild shapes suited her as a daemon- so looked up the national animal of Romania (supposedly Jaheira's accent?) for potential inspiration. Got the lynx, which seems perfect. Medium sized, elegant, very dignifed and deadly hunters who inhabit forests. Notably very quiet and hard to track. Endangered, which resonated with me because of Jaheira's status as one of the last of the Old Guard, so to speak. Nocturnal, which I like because we meet Jaheira in the shadow-cursed lands. Ambush predator, which just goes with my Gloom Stalker build for her. Overall seems perfect for the legendary druid.

Minsc- Boo? Fuck knows man, Minsc gonna Minsc. I spent way too long thinking about Jaheira and now I don't have the energy left. If Gale can have Tara, Minsc can have Boo. I do love Minsc so I will be back to expand on him if the mood strikes me but also I think maybe I don't need to? Daemon Boo just seems Right. Will consult Minsc's backstory and update later if necessary.

Minthara- yet to recruit her so uncertain. Displacer beast seems apt, maybe? Something felinoid would really fit her tbh. Elegant and lethal, very aloof but loyal once you've got her. Input would be appreciated.

My Tav, Cerewyn, just in case ya'll are interested- a raven named Gwyn, short for something I haven't figured out how to spell yet.

Clever, calculating, very blunt and sarcastic to balance out Cere's generally stoic, quite, calm demeanour. Sharp eyed bird for a sharpshooter ranger's daemon. Cere is a beast master ranger/ druid of land multiclass; ravens are summonable both for wild companions and familiars and are a wild shape (Cere's preferred wild shape too).

A common species but not to be underestimated and generally unpredictable, which suits her. She romances Astarion and both she and the raven think he and his luna moth are the prettiest things they've ever seen. They're also very patient and perceptive of trauma due to (Extensive Backstory), so they're more than happy to take their time with earning his trust. Astarion is very appreciative of all the shiny things the raven likes to bring him, and also that it clawed one of Cazador's eyes out for daring to speak to Astarion like That.

CONC.; symbolism is fun and also painful :)

Daemon names are a work in progress; the muses gave me this then said lol nope and fucked off before I could ask them for appropriate names. Might post them with some sketches of the party and daemons together?

(I wrote this in Notes app at an ungodly hour with fuck all editing. It is incoherent, but if anything is genuinely incomprehensible, please tell me so I may at least try to fix it. Much love <3 if you made it this far you get to know I welcome suggestions for NPCs to give daemons next!)

First edit- I misspelled quiet so many times omfg

[cellabella-illuminates]

I'm proud of myself for finally finishing this illustration. I painted it in my sketchbook and then did some final edits digitally.

I'm considering trying out giclée printing and I might start with this one. What do you think?

Here's the "about the image" and description of my process, if you're interested:

St. Catherine of Siena was one boss lady from the 14th century. She is known for a lot of things, but for this depiction of her I wanted to focus on her mission of returning the Pope to Rome (he was in France, there was a lot of political nonsense going on at the time). Her mission was a success. She was involved in peace negotiation between the Pope and the Florentines (again, lots of nonsense going on, sorry I'm not giving you the details here) and has written a great many letters that I feel called to look into. Anyway, she was working against the antipope and just overall doing a lot of diplomacy throughout her life on top of her spiritual writing and other things.

Before I began gathering reference images to put together for inspiration, I knew I wanted to focus on the aspect of her returning Pope Gregory from France to Rome.

Of all of the images I had found, I decided to include the following symbols/aspects from her life: the stigmata, crown of thorns, a rose, a lily, and the crucifix (pointing to the Vatican behind her). The red shape in front is an outline of a part of the coast of France and the green shape behind her is an outline of Italy, with the shape inside being the Vatican.

Most images of her that I found of her made her seem demure and looking away from the viewer, but for my image, I wanted her to be looking directly at you, with her arm outstretched. The lily is a symbol of purity but we know this was a bold and direct woman of God, not someone hiding in a soft expression. So, not only is she reaching out to Pope Gregory, asking for his return to Rome, but also, reaching out to you, personally, to return to the Church, if you have fallen away.

This was my collage that I made to use for reference as I painted:

Her left hand that is outstretched is my own hand, lol, so I still ended up using myself as a reference (idk why, I hate using my stubby fingers as reference so if you have dainty slender fingers feel free to let me know and I'll reach out to you next time haha)

On a personal note- this image was a commission to be given as a gift to my cousin who graduated with a degree in mediation or diplomacy (I forget) and I thought St. Catherine of Siena, a well known peace negotiator, was the best choice. My cousin is also not a practicing Catholic (as far as I know) and most of her siblings are the same. I wanted to paint this illustration with that in mind, which is why I have St. Catherine extending her hand. I want to be closer with my family but sometimes I don't know how. There's been a lot of drama between my aunts and uncles, pushing so far that many of them are no longer speaking to one another. I know painting this image of St. Catherine may not act as a bridge in the regard but maybe it could be a small stepping stone.

[djservo]

january lasted 100 days and nights and now february has practically flown by BUT i returned to hallowed ground (tumblr) to get your reading recap! did you make room for any romance reads what happened i’m all ears

surprisingly not really any romance specific reads though I think love was sort of the implicit/explicit thread stringing these all together so in a way it was still kinda fitting!! I did watch Touch of Pink (2004) on Valentine's Day which was a silly + sweet (if not slightly troubling) time!!

Since I Laid My Burden Down by Brontez Purnell

if I disembody my adoration for Brontez as a person and try to see this as just any other work of fiction, I could see the kinda jumpy/non-linear structure and casualty not working for me, but because it's Brontez and because I've adore him for years, it's impossible for me not to read this in his voice and demeanor specifically + thus get such a kick out of this!! in fact I'd say the casualty and rough edges are such a big component to its charm + narrative voice. reflective in such a real + funny way without pretension, and I think really indicative of his roots in zines and peak early internet blogging era (at least from my first introduction to him)

Punks by John Keene

poetry! really great when it was good but kinda cliche when it was weak which was disappointing. I'm not a big fan of repetition poetry (? not sure if there's a specific term for it) and there was just one too many in this collection for me to take seriously. could've cut down on a few poems which I feel like I've never thought about any poetry collection before so maybe that's actually a testament to Keene's generosity on not skimping on page count lolol. still I appreciate the good parts for what they are - love letters and testaments to simply existing as a gay man during a time of so much death and strife, proof of life as impossible as it seems to confront sometimes

I Love Myself When I Am Laughing... And Then Again When I Am Looking Mean And Impressive: A Zora Neale Hurston Reader edited by Alice Walker

admittedly added to my tbr way back mostly bc of the name alone (which may just be the greatest book title ever) and somehow didn't realize this was a reader/anthology? I knew it included her famous 'What White Publishers Won't Print' essay so I just assumed it was just a collection of essays ANYWAY. I wondered if I would've appreciated this more had I already read the entirety of the works featured (aside from Their Eyes Were Watching God, the only one I've read) or if this was actually an ideal way to get a better sense of Hurston's variety of writing. I'm leaning towards the latter since I really enjoyed just about every piece and genre - folklore and memoir and fiction - and getting to witness the similarities in how she writes each form and also the background context of her life/controversies added so much to the experience. simply love a woman with capital "A" Audacity and it's so clear from the intro alone (amazingly done by Mary Helen Washington) that there was no end to it!! inspiring!!! I also adored the afterword of Alice Walker's journey in trying to weave together Hurston's legacy with varying accounts + recollections of her life while trying to find Hurston's unmarked grave, which honestly could've been its own book bc it was that engrossing. loved this

Sula by Toni Morrison

buddy read this with one of my best gal friends which I think is the best way to read this ugh so damn good I barely have the words. The Bluest Eye floored me and set such a high expectation that Sula somehow surpassed and now I'm finishing up Song of Solomon which has been soooo ??#$?!!? IDK how Toni does it each time, not even just consistently amazing but somehow sharper than before. and with a vengeance!! I love stories about how friendships shift overtime with differing life outlooks n values to the point where you're wondering how you were even friends in the first place, and to create such a rich and complex net of characters and histories in less than 200 pages? just unbelievable. highly highly recommend this one

[devondeal]

For the weird Star Wars ask, questions 1,4,7,8,10,11,14,17,18 and 20 😌😘 Have fun

Oooo good ones. Also hard ones 🤣

1. Qui Gon Jinn. Love or hate? Discuss.

I love Qui Gon Jinn. I love how calm he is and how contemplative he is. This doesn't mean I can't see his flaws though. Regardless he is a one of the coolest Jedi the prequels have introduced, I just wish fans wouldn't put him on a pedestal. Let characters be flawed and wrong sometimes, it's ok I swear y'all.

4. Do you prefer the prequel, original, or sequel trilogy, and why?

God this is a hard one. Original is more nostalgic for me, like I watch them for comfort since I watched them when I was a kid all cozy with hot cocoa and blankets and just adoring the characters and twists. But the prequels are just so meaty and entertaining with the flashy visuals and meme humor.

It hurts to choose but I guess I'll go with prequels cuz I do engage with them more in fandom given how juicy they are. That's not to say the OG isnt juicy but the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker is kinda hard to beat there.

7. Dumbest Star Wars moment

God so many to choose from 🤣 but yeah Jar Jar stepping on shit then immediately getting electrocuted. I may have the order wrong on those sequence of events but either way... dumb.

Honorable mention: Jabba's CGI band with Roach and Miss Lips Close up. Just thinking abt it makes me laugh. Like George what were you on? 🤣

8. If you could ask George Lucas one question, what would it be?

I would ask him how he would continue Leia's story after the OG trilogy. I just always felt she deserved more in depth character exploration and I'd want to know his POV on that.

10. If you could pull a George Lucas and sneak into Disney Plus to edit any Star Wars scene, what changes would you make?

I'd take a away the "No... NOOO" from the Vader scene in Return of the Jedi. Just takes away from the suspence of if he will save Luke and ruins it for me. That's really it. Not much of an edit since it wasn't there to begin with. So an un-edit?

Next, I would edit some squeaking noises for C3PO during the Luke and Leia kiss, maybe an "oh my" even though he wouldnt be sure why he didn't like it 🤣 maybe some background dialogue for him and and R2 abt it.

11. Who would you want as your Jedi Master? (Why)

Luke Skywalker. I feel like he would really help with my confidence issues with his tendency for positive reinforcement. And he's nice and calm so he wouldn't trigger my anxiety. But still enough discipline so that I stay sharp and on it which I also need as a scatterbrain. I feel like because he started as a scatterbrain himself, he'd know where I was coming from.

14. BESIDES THE ROTS NOVELIZATION, what is your favorite Star Wars book?

The Approaching Storm is just a chock full of Jedi fun. It gives you an idea of what Jedi are meant to do and you get to see familiar characters in a more relaxed (for Jedi that is) setting.

17. Pick one Star Wars line to describe your life, what would it be?

"All his life has he looked away... to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. What he was doing."

This Yoda line about Luke very much described me for a very long time. I've always felt and sometimes still do. I tend to live in my head and struggle with being present. I guess Qui Gon's line about being in the present applies too.

18. What is your favorite piece of Star Wars merchandise that you own?

Oof I can't narrow that down to one. So it's gonna be the Ahsoka doll you gave me 😘 also the Savi's lightsaber I made. My Lego collection is huge but I have a soft spot for the Tie Fighter and Luke's Landspeeder cuz they were what got me back into Lego since my childhood.

Literally any Lego clone minifigure.

20. Please describe in as much detail as possible the signature scent of Ewan McGregor and/or Obi-Wan. (Are they different? Probably)

Omg, really making me think like a straight woman eh? 🤣 Idk or care what Ewan smells like even though cool dude. Obi Wan... hmmm....

Tea leaves and really faint raspberry. Why? Cuz the nerd eats them off the Jedi Temple gardens. Just seems like a raspberry guy to me. His robes are always clean so probably fresh laundry. His hair smells like puppy breath idk.

[etherealascend]

hii it's unorcadox ^_^ how does your editing process work!!! like how do you choose what images to use, how to combine them, how to get the right "feel" etc. 👀 very curious abt ur answer

Damn, great question! Also, love your edits, Orca! (also a bit jelous abt your productivity, wish i had so many great ideas) So i present to you: a wall of text! (cw really long!)

So, many people see a great base image and then immideately get an idea of what they wanna do w/ it. I'm not like that, i ususally have an idea of an edit in mind, and then search for sometimes a few hours for a base image that may work. I have a whole tutorial-worthy process of how i always find what i need, but i digress… Most of the times, tho, i get something better than what i had in mind. I love this process, cause it's like tresure hunting for me. (ofc it's not always like that, just most of the time. Since i have a giant collection of base images i may sometimes use them). I choose my images based on the mood i wanna portray. It's always supposed to be looking kinda dreamlike and unreal, but it can also be creepy, dark, bright, etc.

When editing my favourite style of edits - fake dreamlike places - I try to make them look as real as possible, regarding color, lighting, etc, while still making them look blatantly fake regarding the composition, subject matter, etc. Ofc i don't try to perfect my lighting, since it can take away the feeling i strive for, so it's kinda based on my own feelings idk. I get really inspired by the surrealists' painting. Artists like Brent Wong, for example. Liminal spaces are already weird, so why not make them even weirder, by making the geometry non-Euclidean and subject matter impossible in the real world. Also unlike surrealist painters, i have a luxiry of making the scene like "more real" by combining actual photos in photoshop. Ofc people have been making surreal art w/ 3d programs forever now, but it still doesn't give off the same feeling real picture does, yk.

Uhh... what was i talking about... Ah, yes! I firstly make a collage, that i have in mind by this point, and sometimes it just... doesn't work out! i had discarded so many great ideas, cause they weren't turning out good. But if it works, i add shadows and highlights. I look at real liminal space photos and try to really analyze them. Like, what makes them work? the color, the quality, the blurriness? Then i add effects that works to my edit. Every edit needs it's own level of compression, sharpness, blurriness... You just gotta feel it.

Really important step. I leave my edit for a few hours, so i forget how it looks, and then return later. All the imperfections, things that don't work, etc pop out immediately. I read somewhere that the process of creating and the process of analyzing are two completely different things, and i couldn't agree more. It's annoying when you have a finished edit, and you really wanna show it to the world, but you have to wait... But it's better, than being embarrassed later that you posted something unfinished and you can't fix it now.

Ofc i make text edits as well, but they basically serve the same purpose and not that interesting to describe, cause process is the same just with a few steps skipped.

There wasn't such question, but i still wanna talk about it, cause it kinda answers "how do you get the right feel". Well, why do i make edits? Well, the world sucks ass (i don't agree w/ this statement for the most part, like friends are great, nature is buitifull, but then there are parts that just... yk...) and for me weirdcore is a sort of an escapism. I can't traverse dreamworlds mindlessly, alone or come across magical events in real world, sadly. But I can make them however i would like them to look and feel, with my characters (like deer), and my own thoughts about them, that no one except me knows. It's kinda like i actually've been there, and i took a picture. Or hell, maybe i've never been here myself, but those deer were, or invisible creatures, that are not in the shot. And i know them personally, cause i made them, they are a part of myself! And it really helps, and i'm so glad these pictures resonate with so many more people here too! I had been making these pictures without realising why for a year. I had some thoughts and heard dozens of opinins of other pople, but i hadn't had a full picture. And then a video by SuperEyePatchWolf about liminal spaces comes out, and i get it now, it was really eye opening, for me at least. It explains really well why we love unreality so much.

[mikelogan]

9, 24 and 27 for the creator asks!

9: Would you say your style has changed a lot since you first started creating? oh for SURE. regardless of what i consider my start bc i used to gif from like 2015-2017 and then i didn't start up again until april of 2023. this time around, i have learned SO much, and i'm sure part of that is just bc of how much gif styles have changed in the last 6-8 years, but also bc i joined a couple gifmaking networks and have gotten so much help through them, found so many resources, and learned tons! to compare, here's one of the sets i was proudest of from Back In The Day. now, it's definitely not horrible, but the coloring and the slow framerate make me borderline homicidal. this one is marginally better, and i remember thinking i was really Doing Something with that typography 😂 here are some of the sets i made early on in my Return to Gifmaking this past April/May. this was one of the first times i'd ever combined multiple gifs into one and girl. what the fuck happened. why are the framerates Like That? what is this typography? i had no business making early l&o gifs 540px wide bc the quality is bad enough at 268px 💀and i think this one is a good example of i got the spirit! the execution just wasn't quite there. i like the main gif with the overlay of the sky, but i'd do the typography very differently and idk if i'd do it in b&w? i could try and remake it tbh, it's been 9 months since i made and posted it.

24: What’s your step by step? How do you organise your editing process? buckle up 😂

make clips of the scene(s) i want to use if i don't already have them

import video frames to layers

action 1: grouping and timing (groups all layers and sets frame rate to 0.05)

delete any extra frames

crop to whatever dimensions i'm using

action 2: sharpening (two smart sharpen layers) + vivid sharpening (i used this tutorial and i usually keep that folder at 30% but sometimes drop it down to 10-15%)

coloring! it depends on what i'm giffing, but i color everything from scratch at least the first time. i save a LOT of my psds, like there's one psd that i use for almost all my tfothou gifs, a couple for hill house depending on the tint of the scene i'm giffing, one for law & order that sometimes needs to be adjusted just a little, one for the good wife, one or two for satc, etc. but they're all psds that i created myself.

typography (if applicable) which almost always involves scrolling through the entire list of fonts just to use one of my go-tos

action 3: this save action from anyataylorjoy

export > save for web!

upload to hellsite (derogatory) and gifsets always immediately go to my drafts, even if i want to post them right away, just so i can make sure i'm happy with everything and try to catch any last-minute mistakes

as for general organization, i'm organized on my computer to a near-ridiculous standard, but it works for me lmao. my psds, templates, and project psds (where i save an entire finished gif if it's for a larger, complex set and then never get rid of them lmao), and all overlays, textures, icons, graphics, transitions, etc. are meticulously organized. my finished gifs are also organized into their own folders.

27: What’s your favourite font to use? in general, monsterrat. i use it for everything in google docs, and it's my fave sans serif to go with serif or script fonts. when i'm using it for giffing, i usually use semibold.

[nathank77]

5/9/24

8:06 p.m Edited/Added to

So Erin canceled on me again..... she offered tomorrow but I have things to do. I can fit it in but I woke up at 3:30 for her to cancel on me and I had awful sleep last night.

I closed my eyes for over 2 hours and accomplished nothing...the first hour I was on Hydroxyzine 25mg and half a mg of xanax. And I know factually I did not sleep.

Then I opened my eyes and took a Benadryl 25mg. Closed my eyes at 7:39 a.m and next thing I knew it was like 9 a.m... I don't think I slept cause I didn't dream and that's my only give away except when hours ago by.. all I know is my eyes were closed for a very long time...

I popped another Hydroxyzine 25mg.. and slept until 3:30 p.m and I could have fallen back to sleep if I peeded and took another Benadryl but I woke up to make it to my 4:30 appt that Erin canceled last minute....

So today has just been awesome. I called an attorney and idk if they'll take my case but they might. I await them responding and the DHP got my Kristen report per the tracking number.

Bo4 is going awfully... and I'm pissed caused I only get two weeks of fun out of a 14 week rotation. I'm actually about to play something else bc I'm clearly wasting my time.

I'm miserable. Okcupid is okstupid... I'm fucking alone.

I really needed therapy.. but I mean tomorrow I was going to return shitty shoe soles that i replaced for my adidas and the hdcp bypasser that doesn't work... and pick up a chicken so I can stay in the house Saturday and Sunday. As well as pick up some perscriptions from cvs.. I probably won't bother with therapy tomorrow.

I'm on her schedule for today every week. Why can't she just honor that, I could have gotten a full night of sleep if I knew she was going to cancel.

Why doesn't anyone talk to me? Why am I so alone? Why is everything so shitty? Why can't I play bo4 when I'm trying just as hard as I do any other day?

Sunday I lose the bo4 day to mothers day bc it's, "easier" earlier in the day. Less sweaty people play and there are more lobbies. Beyond that I didn't go see my grandmother today.

Oh yea and I'm still hallucinating! Yay!

I'm also going to message someone on mother's day and worry she will block me but idk if shes here and it's important to me to say happy mother's day to her.

Beyond that, I have heart palpitations all the time. And sometimes chest pain now...Scheduling this mri is impossible idk how I'm supposed to get it done by the 28th and I have to wait for my cardiologist appt for over so month. I'm sick of taking care of myself for nothing.

I'm not joking I looked at settlement amounts and like people win millions and I don't even care.... nothing will give me my silence back. Nothing will give me my quality of life back.

I also don't have it in me to be rejected by 5000 therapists to replace Erin... so I may just see Mike once a week maybe twice if he can fit me in... and I'd rather see a female two days a week but I can't handle reaching out to 500 different therapists outing myself and being discriminated against.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Sorry need to talk about OCs for a hot minute cuz Idk how to incorporate that part of him into the fic but I lack social skills so I'm just gonna info dump on yall especially cuz I'm once again procrastinating editing and they're just living in my head rent-free.

So essentially Ellis nd Gortys first meeting didn't happen when Gortash started looking for the Bhaalist leader, in fact it didn't even happen in the Gate but a while back in Calimport. Gortash had that whole trying to establish himself in the underworld and arms dealer bit going on so his business ofc also took him to one of the biggest trading hubs in all of Faerûn, that being Calimport. Also they're taking religious freedom very serious over there, one of their biggest temples and religions being Shars followers, so it was pretty safe for a Banite upstart.

As for Elli he essentially tried to escape his past as best he could. He got stuck in the Shadow Fell for a while (years) and besides it merging his former divine sorcery by the grace of the shadow's corruption, the Shadow Fell also shows what's going on in the real world via mirages, so he was essentially forced to watch his old life being completely demolished by his father's followers while incapable of doing anything about it. Any and all connections he may have had to anyone previously were carefully picked off by 'divine decree' as he watched what happened to their mirages, all while stuck in a shadow of the world he was part of once. So once he managed to get out, he immediately dipped to a place where the sun never goes down and even winter is warmer than anywhere else. There, he essentially used his old talents again, aka used his perceived 'rareness' and the local hierarchy to live a somewhat comfortable life as a dancer. Constantly reminded him of his family, ofc, especially his mom, who used to be a bard and taught him, but more in a positive way, especially after surviving the horrors of the shadow fell. Sort of like trying to ignore the last few years and deluding himself into the belief that he just ran away from home or smth and if he ever returns to the gate his family and his friends would be there waiting for him, completely disregarding that all of them were dead by now.

So they essentially 'met' while Elli was working as an entertainer for some wealthy nobles and Gortash was busy trying to worm his way into the upper echelon and the trade routes managed by them. They never talked or smth but Gortash did remember him, cuz seeing an elf in a city that is dominated by humans and halflings was rare as fuck, so he was pretty caught off guard when he realised that he had not only seen that man before but that the man who was covered in blood n viscera nd exclusively dark clothing used to wear pretty fabrics nd jewelry and laugh and entertain people instead of viciously slaughtering them once. Elli didn't really remember him but Gortash eventually 'confessed' that he knew what he did in his past which elli laughed off followed by a death threat cuz the chosen of Bhaal can't possibly have done things like that. Over time he grew comfortable with it again tho and at some point Gortash got some stuff imported from calimport for him as a lil pick me up to remind them of easier times.

Elli can't play instruments for shit though, his skill exclusively lies in moving his body and that did come in handy in combat for him, which he sort of used as an excuse to still dance from time to time where no-one could see or when he was sure he was disguised sufficiently so no-one would be able to tell it was him. He sometimes tries to remember what happened back then but he can't really pinpoint ever meeting Gortash, so he kind of just grew to believe him and admire his skill to remember cuz, as an elf, his memory is sort of warped due to their difference in how they perceive time anyway. He was also still using the name his family gave him back in Calimshan, but since they were never formally introduced, Gortash wouldn't find out about his actual name until a long time later.

[therandomficwriter]

Twilight Wolfpack with a short S/O

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to come out with something! But I had requested this kinda prompt for a different imagine account but idk if they’re gonna do it,,, so I decided why not and give it a try myself! Like I am super short (like 5’0) and always wonder what it’d be like to be with the Wolfpack. Anyways, I hope you guys like it!

A/N 2: None of the gifs are mine so credit to the original owners! Also I didn’t edit it so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes! Feel free to check this link out also⇒ ( ◠‿◠ )

Sam Uley

First of all I don’t think he would tease you as much as some of the guys would

He would be extra protective since you’re smaller as it’s easier for you to get hurt

And if you are clumsy like me I don’t think that would help to ease his concern lmao

N e ways, I feel like he would have a cute nickname for you, something along the lines of shortcake or something cute like that

If you ever lecture the pack if they’ve done something wrong (or stupid) he has to hold in a laugh cause its funny to see a bunch of huge guys scared of little bitty you

Omg imagine him pulling you into a hug and your face is just buried in his warm chest and he just lets out a deep chuckle cause you’re just so tiny compared to him

Pls sir spare me for I am about to cry thinking about it

But overall he loves you no matter what size you are. Y’all are still the mom and dad of the pack and everyone respects you cause even small you still hold your ground

Jared Cameron

HE IS THE #1 TEASE

He literally has so many nicknames for you and a lot of them are different ways of saying you’re short but his favorite to call you is munchkin lmao

Likes doing that thing where if you’re next to him he’ll use your head as an armrest

Also likes to randomly come behind you and lift you up to scare you

Will sometimes jokingly place you on the counter to talk to you so he won’t have to look down or as he says “so you won’t hurt yourself look up at me shorty”

He may tease you a lot about your height but if anyone were to make fun of you or tease you about it,,, oooh boy he is on them like nothing

Only he is allowed to tease his little munchkin

Y’all just have a very fun and loving relationship and you guys are literally thick as thieves and nothing could change that

Paul Lahote

TEASE #2

He won’t tease you as much as Jared does with his s/o because he is soft for you

He probably also has a cute nickname for you probably also something to do with being small

Probably calls you princess most of the time tho

Whenever you’re trying to get something that is high up where you can’t reach he’ll come behind you and put one hand on your waist and grab whatever it is you needed

He’ll probably ask for an kiss in return for being, and I quote, “your knight in shining armor” and he’ll bend down a bit while you tippy toe to reach and give him a small peck

It really boosts his ego every time lmao

Like Jared he is the only one allowed to tease you cause knowing him he’ll probably try to kill the person making fun of you

We all know he is the type to pull you into his lap whenever he’s sitting cause he loves holding on to you since you’re so tiny

Overall he is also very protective of you and loves having you with him and he wouldn’t want anyone else

I need a Paul in my life

Embry Call

You get teased by him quite a lot too but not to the extent of the other 2 teases

I feel like he calls you lovebug as a joke but it stuck after a while lmao

He probably makes you help him prank the others by hiding you somewhere (since you fit almost anywhere) and then you jump out and scared them

Which in hindsight was a bad idea cause y’all got a lecture from Sam after it happened a couple times and it was not fun

Besides that he also likes to give you piggyback rides whenever your legs get tired or you’re having trouble keeping up with them (or just for fun)

He is very attentive tho and he will help you out without you having to ask cause he loves you and is constantly watching you

But not in like a creepy way sorta like a ‘I want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself’ kinda way

Y’all’s relationship is also very fun and you guys are very relaxed with each other cause you trust each other with your lives

You guys are like 2 peas in a pod and you wouldn’t have it any other way

Jacob Black

Honestly at this point I should just say all of them have a cute nickname for you

I feel like he calls you either beautiful most of the time or smalls when he’s feeling playful or just to tease you

You already KNOW every time he hugs you he lifts you up and spins you around then when he puts you down he holds on for a little longer cause he doesn’t want to let you go just yet

Pls lord I am in need of a hug from Jacob

When he’s on the couch I feel like he’ll be sitting there and you just come up to him and crawl into his lap and you’ll just have a koala hold on him and he just simply holds you (and you probably pass out from how warm and comfy he is)

Omg when y’all sleep together (not like that ya nasties) he will have you lie down on top of his chest and he’ll have his arms wrapped around you

He’s another one that will pick you up and carry you if you get tired or if you can’t keep up

He’s also another one who is super protective of you and will constantly have you near him

Also he’s the type to walk you all the way to your front door when it’s time for you to go home and he won’t leave till he knows you’re in your room

Overall you guys have a very loving relationship and I just know when he loves someone he loves with his whole being and the same goes for you and it shows throughout your whole relationship

Quil Ateara

I feel like he calls you something cute and small related like cutie pie or button

When he’s more on the teasing side he’ll call you pip squeak

He loves to rest his head on top of yours whenever he hugs you

Sometimes when he’s bored he’ll go and flop on top of you but he’ll try and hold himself up a bit and won’t put to much pressure on you cause he’s scared of hurting you

He likes to move your stuff where you can’t reach it so you’ll ask for his help and he thinks you look so cute trying to reach it

But if he knows he won’t be there to help you he will try and put whatever you might need within your reach

He likes it whenever you go and sit in his lap when he’s playing video games with the guys whether you’re on your phone, taking a nap on him, or just watching him play he’ll encase you in his arms and he likes the company plus the feeling of you being there (he love how tiny you feel against him)

He also likes to hold your hand cause he likes how small it feels and he likes how it fits in his hand

He is so very sweet and your relationship is another very funny and goofy one but it’s is still very strong none the less

Seth Clearwater

A/N: I know this gif isn’t from the movie so sue me

He is the sweets boy ever omg

He would find you so adorable and would constantly gush over you

He would probably call you something like kitten cause you’re “small and cute like one”

He absolutely loves hugging you especially back hugs (he just loves to feel you in his arms)

That’s why he loves to cuddle with you and he likes to be the big spoon cause you fit nicely encase in him

He also likes it when he has his head on your chest and your fingers are running trough his hair and you legs are wrapped around his waist (cause that as far as your legs can reach from this position) he finds it kinda funny that you can’t completely wrap around him

When you’re talking to him he tries to kinda lean against something or sit down cause he thinks it’s rude for him to look down on you while you talk but also so you don’t strain your neck trying to talk to him

He’s another one that likes to give you a piggyback ride so your legs don’t get tired or he’ll just try to slow down his walking to accommodate to you

I could go on forever because he’s just so in love with you and absolutely adores your small stature

Your relationship is just so loving and he is so very caring and has such a big heart and I know you return that love just as much if not more

I needs me a Seth Clearwater plssss

Leah Clearwater

A/N: It’s so hard to find a gif of her smiling in the movie she deserves all the happiness in the world

First of all of course I included her cause how could I not,,, she deserves the absolute world!

Pls wreck me queen

N e ways I feel like her nickname for you is not as embarrassing or outlandish as the guys names it’s probably something like angel or baby

If she’s feeling playful she calls you tiny

Fun fact when y’all cuddle she likes being the small spoon! She likes the feeling of you holding her even though she is a lot bigger than you

She’s also one of the ones that like to help you if you can’t reach something it makes her feel needed and she’s just glad she can be there for you cause she knows you’ll be there for her

When hugging you she likes to lift you up and bonus points if you wrap your legs around her waist (it makes her instantly melt)

Off topic but y’all like to make snarky comments about the guys or at them and it just makes y’all laugh and if you make a sarcastic comment to Sam when he tries to lecture you guys about something she gets mega heart eyes for you and is super proud to call you her s/o

Getting back on track but she of also very protective of you like the rest of the guys but she knows you can handle yourself well but she can’t help but worry because of your small size

Besides that y’all’s relationship is really one of a kind you guys have built up a lot of trust with each other over time and y’all’s bond is as strong as ever and I just know she loves you fiercely

[yamagucji]

some tips for writing blogs, especially those who are just starting out. these are some things that works for me and may or may not work for others.

how to add a read more link on mobile

type :readmore: on a free space, then hit the enter or return button

personally i think they’re very helpful because it lessens the space you take up in your dash, and might encourage more people to rb

+ you can also add this on a spot where it gives a sort of cliffhanger, essentially making people want to ‘read more’

headers, banners, and dividers

though not necessary, it’s good to have a title for your work. make sure it’s bold and doesn’t blend in with your notes (aka pairing, warnings, etc.). this also helps when someone wants to look up one of your works in your search bar

i don’t really make banners or covers for my works. but some good apps that i know of would be picsart and canva. if you’re looking for ideas, i definitely recommend going into canva

wondering how to make those really small, thin dividers? you can make them using picsart! to make a divider hit tools > free crop > brush > size (adjust it to your preference > then draw a line along the edge of your photo > save

using the divider you just saved, go back to picsart and edit it again > draw option > hit rainbow square at the bottom left corner > hit suction/droplet symbol right below the check mark > color in the white spots bc for some reason picsart glitches and makes dividers look white-ish

new blog? just opened an account?

this is gonna sound really frustrating. but... tumblr needs to check if you’re a bot or not. what does this mean? it’s likely that your first few posts won’t show up on the search bar. you may not even get to edit your header/pfp yet ://

this happened to me and there was no visibility on my account at ALL. what helped me get ‘verified’ is that i followed a LOT of accounts, liked a bunch of posts, made some posts here and there. now that lets tumblr know you’re not a bot

visibility

the tumblr tagging system usually only allows the first 5 tags in your post to show up. so, what can do you about this? only use FIVE or less tags in your post. wait about 15 minutes or more until you can add some more tags in your post, and they usually all show up like that

another important thing about using tags is not to generalize! especially if you’re using a popular tag. but also don’t specify it too much where barely anyone looks it up. for example, if you’re writing a gn piece about oikawa, i recommend you use the tags such as: oikawa x reader, haikyuu x reader, oikawa x gn!reader, haikyuu headcanons, etc

a good rule of thumb is to use character x reader tags first, then leave the full name or fandom tag last

FOR NSFW: tumblr doesn’t let any tags with nsfw show up. so, give your nsfw works another tag. maybe #namegetspicy idk, you figure it out

FOR WARNINGS: especially if you’re a dark content creator, i highly encourage you to add tw:xyz tags. if you already have a warning note at the top then that’s great. but even better for readers who prefer to actually block these tags that way they never get to see it

another important thing to note is that people have different timezones. it helps if you rb your work at a different time of the day, in case people missed it! (icymi) i’ve noticed that reblogging helps to make your post show up in the tags

interaction + feedback

first and foremost, you are not obligated to write for your followers, and neither are your followers obligated to interact with you. remember that everyone has their own individual lives, and they have their own things to do— so do you, too.

make friends! become mutuals with other writers, visit their ask box. i know it can be daunting having to initiate these things, but you might just turn out to have fun! you can’t expect people to interact with you if you’re not interacting (back). it’s... kind of a two way thing yk? no need to be afraid to interact with other writers. oh, and rb other writers works!

pspsps join tag games or do ask games. it’s fun and very interactive

it never hurts to ask for feedback. i usually do this in a more subtle way because i don’t really expect a full on analysis on my works. maybe a little, is this okay? or feedback appreciated. sometimes it takes a little bit of coaxing for the silent readers

formatting your posts and blog

i generally put in the title at the top in big, bold letters

then comes the header/divider. helps to make the post more... visually appealing ig?

it’s important to add warnings (if any) and the pairing. the audience is not all female, and it might be a little frustrating for male readers having to find out its an x fem reader piece like halfway through your fic

if you have multiple works posted, it’s really really helpful to have a navigation page!

you can organize the posts you make with tags! for example, if you’re shitposting, you can use a specific tag for that. if you have a nsfw related post (ESPECIALLY when your blog is open to the general audience) please make a tag for it

themes + colors

if you have a color in mind but don’t know which direction to go from there, i recommend looking up color + aesthetic

looking to use the same color? download a name color app that’ll give you a hex code for any color you want to use. then, you can type in that hex code for when you’re choosing a color for your tumblr bio

wondering how to make your header image small like mine? just choose a photo for your header and turn off the stretch image option

want to use a different text color that tumblr doesn’t offer? it’s not as complicated as you think. you’ll have to go on a desktop to do this and do some html (but trust me, it’s not very difficult). look up “HTML noob but trying my best - how to use colored text on desktop”

^^ i don’t have the link for the color text tutorial so you can try looking it up

how to make an aesthetic navi and masterlist

step 1: decide a theme! if you’re stuck, think about a character + color/season/mood or look up “[insert] aesthetic” to find some inspiration. or you can try looking at other blogs too

step 2: find a color scheme! it’s easier if you choose fewer colors. if you want to use the same color for both divider and text, download a color name app in order to get the hex code of that color.

step 3: add categories to your navi! most navigation pages include a link to masterlist, about/byi, and rules. your navi should have a title that indicates that it’s... a navigation page. you can add thin colored dividers with the same color to make it easier for followers to navigate

step 4: you can choose to create a ‘cover’ or a picture for your navigation and masterlist! again, i recommend you use the canva app as a starting point

extra: search up emoticon symbols to spice up your titles!

reminder for you as a writer

you’re not obligated to do any of these things. i’ve noticed that we tend to build pressure on ourselves when it comes to content and interaction. remember, this !! is !! for !! fun !! when you realize that it’s no longer fun, then know that it’s time to take a break. and there’s nothing wrong with a bit of self care.

^^ c/p from this post lol

at the end of the day, follower count and interaction doesn’t define you. again for the love of beings, you’re here on your own accord.

will be adding more if needed/asked.

[lovelyserena-moved]

hello ! ive been wanting to start an editing blog for a while now, but i don't think my edits are good enough for it yet. do you have any tips for getting better at it ? ive been following you for a while and i find your blog to be really pretty !!

alright, this is probably gonna be a long post so everything will be under the cut

there are a ton of things that could make you improve, so here's a list!

1- Experiment, and experiment a ton: This may be the most important one! experimenting new styles and new effects is extremely useful when trying to become better at editing, use new apps (i used to only edit on Ibis Paint but recently I started using apps like PicsArt and Polarr that are way more centered around editing, and that's been extremely helpful!) try new effects, and even look at other people's work to get inspired! (obviously I'm not telling you to just go over and copy another person's style lmao) look at how they position stuff, look at how they use filters and all that, this was something extremely helpful for me to get better at editing!

2- Get new resources: Whether it be new filters or new vectors! on Tumblr there's a ton of resources for that, some creators make borders, some make free to use PSDs and Polarr filters, and on apps like Pinterest is really easy to find stuff like decors and textures for edits! this will not only make it easier for you to make your edits, it can also help with getting motivation to edit, whenever I see a new resource i go "damn i really want to use this in an edit" and then I do it! it doesn't matter if it's just a simple border or decor, everything is a part of the edit, and every single part of it matters!

3- Take your time: Remember when I said that the first one may be the most important one? well yeah forget that, this is the most important part of editing. If at one point you don't feel like editing, then take a break from it! I have done that a ton of times before hehe, and everytime i had the motivation to edit again I did everything in a different way, somehow taking breaks makes me improve, i really don't know why, maybe because i have more time to get inspired from others, maybe because i got some cool new editing resources, or maybe because i learned some new effects, idk, but not only is this part important to improve, it's also an important part to never end up stressing over editing, you said that you wanted to make an edit blog, and sometimes that may be pretty draining to do (i say this from experience lmao) so, never feel forced to edit all the time! maybe do some self indulgent edits before doing some of the requests, maybe take a break of days and return when you finally feel the motivation to edit, decline requests that you know will be tiring to do, anything for you to never feel bad from editing! recently the editing community has been acknowledging stuff like this, so don't expect a bad response from taking your time with editing! (although maybe some rude anons may say some stuff, but don't worry, we don't take those guys seriously around here). So yeah! you are in all your right to take your time!

Aaaaand I think that's it, i wanted to link to some extremely useful posts about this but i can't do a draft when responding an ask and i don't have the links to them sooo :(, but i may do a reblog to this post with all of the links to those posts!, i hope this was useful to you in some way, have a great day!

[enmy-writes]

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

_____________________________________________________________________

They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off;  barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body. 

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff. 

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest. 

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

[yukipri]

One Piece Mermaid AU!

Featuring Luffy as a rubber mermaid who can’t swim, and Ace who carries her on his back as they pirate together.

＊Genderbend warning, fem!Luffy

Sliding in last minute for MerMay, bc idk about you, but I need something to mark that May has passed this year...

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!

~~

Base headcanons for this AU beneath the cut! ↓ ↓ ↓

Luffy's a mermaid who was raised in Fuusha village, just like in canon. And, just like in canon, despite being a mermaid, she SUCKS at swimming, a fact that Shanks finds absolutely hilarious. She still wants to become a pirate, she still eats her devil fruit and becomes a rubber mer(?), she still gets kidnapped by Higuma (who sees her as an excellent way to rake in cash, given how valuable mermaids are on the slave market), and Shanks still gives her his hat.

As a devil fruit user, Luffy's already atrocious swimming skills are now at zero. She can still breathe under water, but will sink like a stone, her strength sapped by the sea, and if she loses consciousness she'll stop breathing too. Needless to say, she stays out of the water, and the villagers come to accept that sometimes, mermaids just live on land.

Garp still comes back, and is still furious at her wanting to become a pirate (and inwardly, extremely concerned that a bandit tried to catch and sell her), and still takes her to live at Dadan's where she meets Ace.

Ace has no idea what to think of the weird fish-brat who he's now told is gonna be his sibling, and resolutely ignores Luffy. He's inwardly slightly impressed as Luffy continues to follow him through the mountain every day, not even particularly hindered by lack of legs and using a mixture of crawling, squirming, hand-walking, and ricocheting forward with rubber arms to move.

Luffy still meets Sabo the same way as canon, and is still caught by Porchemy, who at first is thrilled because a mer brat! That'll bring in WAY more money than the spare change Ace stole! But in the end, he loses his temper at Luffy's stubbornness and still beats her to a pulp.

Ace and Sabo still rescue Luffy, and they still exchange sake cups and become brothers.

Yes, brothers.

Because at this point, neither Ace nor Sabo nor any of the bandits, nor anyone really on Dawn island save Makino and Garp actually know that Luffy's a girl. Not even Luffy.

The three brothers promise to each other that they'll all leave the island when they turn seventeen, setting out to sea to become pirates (Ace and Sabo are honestly a little concerned, given how often people try to sell Luffy, and how despite aquatic appearances Luffy's vulnerable af in water, but decide to wait and see. They have seven years together, Luffy ten until seventeen, who knows how much stronger their baby brother will get in that time).

Sabo "dies."

Ace and Luffy continue to train, and things don't change until Ace is seventeen, shortly before he sets out to sea.

He's let Luffy crawl into his blanket to sleep with him (partially cold-blooded, Lu gets cold easily when inactive), and Ace realizes that his lil brother's chest feels a bit lumpy.

Concerned, he makes Luffy have it checked out by the bandits, who are shocked to find developing...breasts?

That can't be right...right?

Dadan makes a call to Garp, who snorts and says of COURSE Luffy's a girl, didn't he say granddaughter?

No, he had not, he had only mentioned "grand child."

Everyone is shocked, but none more so than Ace, who really doesn't know what to do with this new information.

(Luffy's not quite sure what a "girl" is, and when she asks Ace, Ace honestly doesn't know how to define "girl" either, so she doesn't get what the big deal is)

Ace realizes he's troubled because he can't remember the number of times he's rescued Luffy from potential traffickers, and the number of times he's heard the lament, "Pity it's not female, it'd be worth quadruple," from the kidnappers before he beats them to a pulp.

He already had doubts about letting Luffy go out to sea alone, three years after he's left. But now knowing that Luffy's a girl, and one of the most sought-after species that traffickers target...he knows the world out there is much bigger than a teeny peaceful East Blue island, and Luffy may not get lucky every time, and may not be strong enough in just three years.

But at the same time, it's not like he can order her to stay here. There's no way Luffy'd listen; the sea calls to her, freedom calls to her, and Ace understands that more than anyone.

Sabo, Ace thinks, what would you do?

The night before he leaves, Ace tells Luffy that there's been a change of plans.

He's still leaving for sea. He's going to get stronger, and work his way towards becoming Pirate King.

BUT, three years later, Luffy will NOT leave Dawn Island alone.

Ace promises that he'll come back, a stronger pirate capable of looking out for his baby brother (because girl or not, they exchanged vows of brotherhood, and that's something that can't be changed).

He refuses to let Luffy be his captain, he's still got his pride, but maybe, maybe if Luffy becomes strong enough, he'll let her be co-Captain.

Luffy is thrilled, because she wanted to be pirates WITH Ace, and grudgingly accepts the compromise, and promises to train and wait for Ace's return.

Ace leaves Dawn island, and makes a name for himself on the Grand Line (he's PISSED when he finds out he's eaten a devil fruit, because now how's he supposed to rescue Lu from drowning when he can't swim himself???).

He even eventually makes it to Whitebeard, and eventually comes to admire the man. Whitebeard invites him to his crew, and Ace honestly replies that a large part of him wants to accept...but he can't. He promised his baby brother that they'll be pirates and co-captains together, and he can't join another pirate crew without Luffy agreeing too. Even so, and he knows it's selfish of him, he wants to call Whitebeard his father.

Whitebeard tells him that Ace is already his son, regardless of where his allegiances lie, and gives him his blessing to return to East Blue to fetch Luffy. Whitebeard laughs that he can't wait to meet the lil brat that Ace speaks so highly of, and for Ace to hurry up and come back to the New World so they can meet.

Ace plans on traveling light, his former crew all choosing to join the Whitebeard pirates except for his first mate, Deuce. Ace loves his crew, but they're also his crew, and knows that he wants to make their crew with Luffy. So he thinks he and Deuce will be a good starting point (You're just bringing me along bc you want someone who can swim on the crew, Deuce accuses).

As they're planning on leaving, Marco lets slip to fellow commander Thatch that he heard that Ace's "little brother" is actually a super cute girl.

The next morning, Thatch shows up too, insisting that he come along, because hey! He's been with the Whitebeards for ages and hasn't been to Paradise in a while, he wants some change! And won't it be nice to have someone as reliable as him along, just until they get back to the New World and reunite with the Whitebeards? Really he has no ulterior motives like wanting to check out Ace's supposedly hyper hot baby brother-sister!

Ace is suspicious, but Thatch is already on board and the other Whitebeards are already waving so he lets it go.

(Shortly after they leave, Thatch discovers a devil fruit. Deuce tells him to sell the damn thing, it'll taste like shit, but Thatch thinks boy wouldn't it be great to be able to woo Ace's hot brother with a really cool devil fruit power. So he eats it, and yeah it tastes like shit, but now he can control Darkness which is sorta badass?)

(Somewhere on the Whitebeard ships, Blackbeard is still waiting for someone to find the darkness devil fruit, and well, it doesn't happen)

Before Ace returns to Dawn Island, part of him still hopes that Luffy looks passably like a guy. Having been to Fishman island, having befriended Jinbe, he knows that while mermen can still be targeted, mermaids are exponentially more vulnerable. He's learned the kinds of clothing that can help conceal tails, and is hoping that there's a slim chance they might be able to be pirates without the world knowing that Lu's a mermaid.

His hopes are shot when Luffy rockets into his arms at the dock, and his face is immediately buried in enormous tits that definitely weren't there three years ago.

Despite Ace's growing concerns (and red face; why does he feel so hot??? It's not his devil fruit...), Ace lets Luffy give Deuce a beating (why me?!) to claim her position as Ace's Co-Captain of the newly established ASL pirates (because if we're pirates together, Sabo has to be with us too!).

Luffy's gotten a lot stronger, but is still utterly ignorant of the outside world and the dangers it holds (such as the drooling Thatch who immediately wins Luffy over with his cooking despite Ace's burning glares). She's reckless and falls into the ocean every damn day, and while Deuce dives in after her and they've discovered her useful ability to talk to fish to ask for help, it still gives Ace heart attacks.

They still pick up more crew members while in East Blue, including Roronoa Zoro, Usopp, and Sanji, a pervy cook who competes daily with Thatch for Luffy's affections through food (Luffy appreciates the food).

At Arlong Park, Luffy encounters fishmen for the first time in her life. Arlong mocks Luffy's choice of friends and family, and invites her to join his crew made of her own kind. Fishmen and mer are the superior race, and Luffy will make a fine wife, Arlong says.

Luffy breaks his nose off, and Nami joins their crew.

Luffy's chosen mode of transportation is on the back of one of her sturdier crew mates, usually Ace, but often Zoro too. She unfortunately hates all the long skirts/robes Ace suggested for her to hide her tail, and so Ace has decided that being as intimidating as possible while carrying his brother glued to his back is the only way to go.

Needless to say, news of the former Spade Pirates Captain + Whitebeard Commander Thatch (are they an extension of the Whitebeards??) establishing the new ASL pirates spreads fast. That, and rumors that there's a beautiful young mermaid on board who can't swim. And despite the strength of the crew and their attempts at vigilance, Luffy's still dumb and gullible, and is kidnapped (and rescued) a dozen times before they're even on the Grand Line.

(after a few times, Luffy's uncharacteristically quiet, and privately asks Ace if they can break up the crew. She's holding Ace back; she not only made him come back to her, but half their adventures just seem to be her crew rescuing her. She's strong enough to defeat enemies, but not save herself. Ace tells her to shut up, and never bring this up again; they're BROTHERS, and he's not going to leave her behind or make her abandon her dreams when she can't accomplish them alone, and that's his choice. Luffy doesn't bring it up again, but works harder than ever to become stronger and earn recognition as co-Captain when the world seems intent on thinking of her as Ace's pet.)

During one of these kidnappings, Luffy's successfully brought all the way to an auction house before her crew can rescue her. An auction house that unbeknownst to them, was under investigation by the Revolutionary Army.

Liberating slaves is an unfortunately common mission for them, and Sabo's doing final sweeps as Koala frees the last of them when he notices a tank stowed away in a corner. He's familiar with these tanks, used to showcase mermaids in the rare occasions one can be caught, and it looks empty but he's still drawn to it for some reason.

It's only when he gets closer that he notices a mermaid crumpled at the bottom of the enclosure. She's completely slumped over, and he's afraid she's already gone, even as something about her screams with familiarity.

He's cracked the tank and has reached in to pull her out, when the wall behind him explodes in flames, revealing a furious Ace who snarls at the strange man with his hands on his baby brother...

...and then Sabo's memories come back.

~~

Something like that???? For an initial HCs dump????

This AU has continued! A LOT! Check out the comics, illustrations, and text stories for this AU under the Mermaid AU section of my One Piece Masterpost!

As always, REBLOGS, tags, asks, and comments greatly appreciated!

Advance posts for this AU and more are on my Patreon! (Patreon(.)com/YukiPri)