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xxemiexx · 1 year

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The Weirdest Dream. (Part 1 Maybe)

Tentacle, egg laying, denial, pushing the egg back in.

- around 3400 words -

I woke up laying on a table in a whitewashed medical room, a man with orange, glowing eyes looking over my naked body. I tried to scream but no sounds were coming out of my mouth. My legs were put in stirrups opening me up helplessly as something slid up my thigh. It poked around my opening, I tried to move away but I couldn't pull against the restraints as it plunged into me, I groaned at the sudden intrusion.

Going deeper than anything ever had before. I felt the girth open up my cervix as something came out of it. I felt it pass through my walls, stretching me. I felt this 8 times before the thing retracted and filled my vagina with a thick glue like substance. I moaned as the feeling left me, pulling back through the thickness.

After this I gasped and shot up in my bed, what happened couldn't have been real.

I reached down into my pants to feel a wetness, an extreme wetness that coated my hand and left me sitting in a puddle on the bed.

"Oh my god, what a fucking weird dream." I mutter to myself as I lay back and pulled a vibrator from the bed side table, I inserted it inside me but it felt like nothing compared to what was inside me in my dream.

I turned it on and rubbed my clit. As I got closer to release there was a frantic knock at the door.

I gasped and got up, leaving the vibrator in as I got up and pulled my panties up. The feeling of it deep in there made my knees weak as I walked to the door.

I accepted the post and shut the door quickly, reaching into my pants and clicking the vibrator up a level, I was enjoying myself too much.

I held onto the back of the couch as a spasm hit my stomach and I doubled over, this made the vibration feel stronger inside me and I moaned out as a liquid ran down my leg.

"What the fuck?" I pulled my pants off and tried to get the vibrator out but the sticky wetness held it firm in place.

There was a pressure building, something encouraging me to push it out so I got into a squat and pushed, it moved down slightly but I felt something inside, it was moving too.

The vibrator finally came out after 2 more pushes but something bigger filled my birth canal now. I continued to push until I felt something at my opening. I gasped as I touched the smooth egg waiting to be birthed.

I scrambled up from the squat terrified.

"No way am I laying eggs." I grabbed the vibrator and pushed it back inside of me. Groaning as the egg was forced back into my womb with a pop.

A flash of bright light blinded me and when I could see again a man stood in the corner in a white jacket.

"You have my clutch of eggs in there. They will be layed." He demanded pulling me towards him as he reached for the vibrator pushing and pulling it harshly as I tipped my head back and moaned.

"Now push." He spoke into my ear as I gripped his shoulders and lifted my leg slightly. He got the idea and put his hand under my thigh supporting it as the vibrator came out of me and the hard shell came to my opening again

He knelt on the ground and put my leg to rest over his shoulder as he touched the egg with his thumb

I shivered but then pushed as the egg stretched me, it felt big - too big.

"I can't do this." I tried to get my leg down but the urge to push ripped through me suddenly as pressure moved down from my womb.

I cried out as the egg stretched me, it must've been the size of an ostrich egg! But the progress was erased as the egg slipped back in each time.

"You need to push through the pain." He pushed on my stomach, it wasn't until I looked at it I saw a bump. Maybe around a 7 month size. The pressure he had on it allowed more liquid out of me as I pushed harder this time, the egg staying out half way.

He deepened the pressure on my stomach as the egg came out with a final push, fluid dribbled out of me, I watched him get up and place the egg in a bag on the other side of the room but the pressure didn't stop and soon there was another egg waiting at my opening.

I pushed as this one moved a little easier, reaching half way before going back in. I groaned and pushed again, getting the guy's attention making him rush back over and cup the egg with his hand. I pushed and birthed the egg straight into his hand, he placed it in the bag the same.

He looked over the eggs in the bag, arranging them carefully as my legs buckled underneath me. The next egg protruding out of me. I wiped the sweat from my forehead but looked up in alarm as I heard the man zip the bag up.

"Hey! I don't think we're done here!" I reached down and touched the egg I was pushing out, no way was he leaving me with these fucking things!

"No stop! We can't stay here. We need to get to my lab for you to deliver the rest of the clutch." He said in a hushed voice, pulling me to my feet and pulling my pants and trousers up. "I'm sorry I need to push this one back in so we can move." He pressed his palm against the egg and covered my mouth before the scream left it.

My head spun with the searing pain of the egg losing all its progress.

"Can you walk?" He whispered to me but I was focusing on my breathing too much to concentrate on his voice. He picked me up bridal style as he ran at a inhuman speed straight into a bright white light.

He put my down in the whitewashed medical style room my dream happened in and walked towards a clear box with holders for the eggs, he unpacked the 2 carefully and began pressing buttons on the machine.

I gasped as the egg moved down to my opening again, making me gasp and grip the bottom of my swollen stomach as I pushed down.

The egg quickly hit my underwear and refused to move any further, the tight material holding it in place. I released a breath I didn't know I was holding, a little whimper coming out with it but I had no time to recover as a contraction ripped through me and I spread my legs into a half squat bearing down as hard as I could.

The man rushed over to me and cupped the egg with his hand over my trousers.

"Fuck, you need to stand up so I can take these off." He tried to pull me up but when he realised I wasn't going to give, he hooked his fingers into my trousers and pants and wiggled them down, giving the egg more space. Feeling this I took a breath and pushed, birthing the egg into my pants.

"Oh my god it's out in my pants!" I panted as the man pulled me to my knees carefully and pulled my pants down, he took the egg and placed it in the clear box with the others. I realised it was an incubator and he was setting a heat lamp up for the eggs.

I panted through the contractions, the man looked over at me. There were 8 spaces in the incubator. I can't do this 5 more times! I shouldn't be laying eggs!

I felt my birth canal stretching again as another egg moved through my body.

"Oh god not again!" I reached down to feel what was happening but the man beat me to it.

"Breathe." He put some pressure on the egg at my opening allowing liquid to flow out of me. "This should relieve some of the pressure you're feeling, can you stand up? The gravity will really help the eggs."

He pulled me up to my feet and removed my pants.

"The contractions are too much." I panted out.

He nodded and put his hand up my top, reaching my braless breast and gently stroking around my nipple.

I gasped, he smirked and pushed me against the wall as he latched on to my nipple with his mouth. My hand instinctively grabbed his hair at the pleasurable feeling.

I felt his chuckle against my nipple as he nipped at it and sucked. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I was enjoying this too much to be fighting it.

His thumb circled around my clit, the pleasure pulled a moan from me.

"That's it. Good girl, getting you close should take your mind off things." He mumbled against my nipple. I got frustrated with the talking and pressed his head harder against me.

His other hand went to my other breast as he pinched it and stimulated my clit, I looked down to see a liquid seeping out of the nipple he was pinching.

He was obviously drinking from the other one. A pain started to build at the top of my stomach as his thumb held a steady pace.

"Please don't stop!" I moaned sounding helpless.

"I'm sorry, I can't let you orgasm, you could break the egg." He suddenly stopped playing with my clit as the contraction ripped down the sides of my stomach.

I gripped his shoulders as he lifted my leg up, opening me wider and giving the egg a lot of room. The position felt good. I pushed down hard feeling his hand against the egg so it couldn't fall.

"Please I can't do this!"

"I need these eggs, you are strong. I will help you with the pain as much as I can." He pressed me against the wall and leaned against my stomach. The pressure making me groan but it forced the egg out with a pop of fluid. Again he took the egg and placed it in the incubator. I had slid down the wall into a sitting position by the time he returned.

I heard a beeping sound from a machine on his belt, he looked at it and swore under his breath. He walked to the middle of the room and reached for something hanging from the ceiling. Chains.

He stood me up and pulled me towards the chains cuffing my hands so I had to stand on my tiptoes.

"I'm sorry, it's protocol. If someone sees you in here alone and unchained we'll both be killed."

"No, what do you mean alone?! Where are you going? The eggs are going to fall and smash!" I asked hysterically as I put my weight on the chains and lifted a leg pushing.

"You need to stop pushing. I'm going to wrap this around your thighs to keep them together." He grabbed 2 belts out of the drawer and strapped them around me.

"No that's too tight!" The tightness making the band around my thighs turn white.

"Hold the eggs in, don't waste your energy pushing! You'll need it to deliver the other 4!"

The feeling of not being able to pry my legs open made me scream, I pulled my knees up holding my weight on the chains as the pain in my stomach overwhelmed me.

"I'll be back in 10 minutes. Keep quiet." He quickly shut the door.

The egg was burning at my opening forcing its way out of me but not being able to move after reaching so far. I was so busy concentrating on panting and not pushing I wasn't paying attention to the time.

The contractions were forcing the egg lower, making it bulge out of me.

The 10 minutes went painstakingly slow, but as soon as the man entered the room he undid the belts, my legs opened automatically on their own and I pushed the egg out in one strong push.

"No!" The man gasped and moved to catch the egg mid air. He let out a sigh of relief as he walked over to the incubator with the egg holding it up to the light admiring it, it was a light pink colour.

I had already pulled my legs up using a nearby chair to squat with my left leg. I pushed and felt the egg at my opening, panting through the pressure but I couldn't hold back from pushing again.

"I'm pushing!" I screamed and pushed. I shut my eyes expecting the egg to smash on the floor but it never did, it came out but stayed at my entrance the man was holding it against me. He caught it. He was very fast.

"Just two left now." He confirmed and added it to the warmth in the container.

"Let me help you." He pulled my top and and latched on to my nipple again.

The door opened and revealed another man, he smirked at the situation he saw before him.

"Dr Jenson, you've been keeping this all to yourself?" He walked towards us focusing in on my breast.

"Come and taste her Daniel."

Daniel didn't need telling twice. He sucked on my nipple, pulling the liquid out of me and let a moan out of his mouth.

"God she's sweet!" He moaned as he reached down to my opening, diving 2 fingers into me.

"Oh my god no, please! I'll be pushing soon! This feels so good!"

Daniel used his thumb to rub my clit as he fingered me. I got closer than before but he didn't stop.

Dr Jenson didn't tell him to stop as they both drank from me and nearly pushed me over the edge

Liquid flowed freely down my legs and down Daniels arm.

"How many eggs has she delivered?" Daniel knelt down to look at my opening, pulling me from the closeness of the orgasm

"6 of the 8 so far, she's doing well."

Daniel hummed in agreement as he pushed my legs apart and licked my clit.

A gasp left my mouth as my legs instinctively wrapped around his head, leaving me on his shoulders with Dr Jenson playing with my nipples.

The position on his shoulders helped the egg move to my opening he saw it and smirked.

Dr Jensons machine beeped again, he stepped away from me and sighed looking at it, reading something.

"I'll look after your patient until your done with your work." Daniel stimulated my clit with his thumb as they spoke locking eyes with me smirking.

"Don't let her cum Daniel, we need all the eggs."

Daniel nodded and the Dr left the room, as soon as the door clicked shut Daniel placed his palm on the egg pushing back inside me.

My breath caught in my throat as he stood up in front of me. He ripped my pyjama top, leaving me completely naked chained to the ceiling.

He grabbed both my breasts and played with one nipple as his mouth latched onto the other one. The pleasure made me arch my back, the egg falling lower.

"The egg is coming out.." I panted breathlessly, "please help me I need to push!"

Daniel moved his hand back to my opening, cupping the tip of the egg.

"Push." He commanded around my nipple, keeping his hand firmly placed on the egg. My pushes we're getting me nowhere against his hand. After a few pushes he moved his hand down allowing the egg to stretch me at its widest, I moaned in pain as he pushed the egg back inside me.

The burn made my eyes water, I felt the pressure of the last egg pushing down on the one Daniel was holding in.

Liquid ran down my legs, the floor beneath my feet wet with a puddle of birthing fluids. Daniel pushed against my stomach, the egg coming out as I pushed down, but he was holding the egg in.

He smirked up at me as he removed his hand, stepping back away from me as my legs opened and my body started to push.

"Please catch the egg!" I begged tipping my head back as I pushed, the egg was nearly halfway out.

"No." He chuckled, "Hold it in." He walked over to the desk and started doing something on the computer.

"Daniel please!" I forced my legs as closed as I could get them. The egg rubbing against my thighs. "It will fall and break!" The primal urge to push, was throwing me off the edge.

"No it won't. Be a good girl and keep it in." He didn't look up at me as he typed away on the keyboard. Only glancing my way when I moaned through the contractions.

The contractions were on top of each other, begging my body to push. My face wet with sweat from the concentration of not pushing.

Daniel made his way over and placed one of my legs into a stirrup, holding me open.

"No I need to push! Don't do this!" My leg was open so wide I couldn't take it out. I tried to look behind me at what he was doing.

He got another stirrup for the other leg.

He did the same to my other leg. The full squat burning my upper thighs, allowing the egg to move down to the point I gasped as it left my body.

Daniel admired the egg in his hand.

"Just once more." He put the egg back to my opening and eased it back in.

"No Daniel there's another egg!" I tried to get free of him but my legs wouldn't allow it.

The burning pain filled me again as the last egg was pushed out the way to make room for this one.

He latched on to my nipple again drinking the milk from me, my body dying to cum.

"Please let the egg out." I begged as I pushed hard, expecting his hand to be there, I was shocked when the egg came straight out of me and into his hands with a gush of liquid.

He added it to the case.

“Just relax.” He pushed two fingers into me, the ache spreading through my thighs and into my hips, he was feeling around so deeply. His fingers come into contact with the egg inside me and pushed up. The egg popping back into my womb once more.

The pain ripped through me as the last egg was forced down through my squatting position. I groaned and put my all into pushing.

Panting hard inbetween the pain.

I opened my eyes to Daniel standing in front of me.

“I always wondered what happened when an egg broke…” he smirked and latched his mouth around my nipple, playing with the other. I tipped my head back and moaned, pushing my chest towards him, I’d been so close for so long.

I needed a release. It couldn’t be that bad could it?

Should there be a part 2…….?

#birth denial #birth kink #giving birth #egg birth #sci-fi #tentacles

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anonymousewrites · 2 months

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Burden of Truth (Book 1) Prologue

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Prologue: On the Precipice

Summary: In 2018, (Y/N) discovers grief as people turn to dust and the world turns to chaos.

Mouse Note: Welcome to Burden of Truth! Kind of a rough beginning, but, hey, how else do you become an Avatar to a god? Anyways, housekeeping: This is a platonic fic, so anyone who suggests anything inappropriate between an adult and minor will be blocked and deleted. That's pretty much it, but I wanted to make it clear. As for the actual fic, there aren't any warnings other than the violence that Marvel shows. I'm really excited to share this series! Please feel free to comment since I'm always up to answering questions and replying to comments. Plus it makes me keep writing. Without further ado, though, please enjoy!

2018…

(Y/N) gasped for breath, but their lungs refused to bring in the air they needed. Every limb ached, and their heart beat against their chest. It stuttered, refusing to work correctly. The edges of (Y/N)’s visions blurred to black.

Everything had gone wrong. They had thought this summer would be a beautiful one, traveling with their parents. Egypt was lovely, and (Y/N) liked to listen to their parents—anthropology and history professors—tell them about the rich history and culture of the country.

Plus, they were far away from New York where strange aliens had recently attacked and fought Iron Man and a strange wizard. They were safe with their family and free to enjoy themself.

And then people turned to dust.

Screams echoed as loved ones disappeared before people’s very eyes. Cars crashed without drivers. Buses overturned and threw out people and sand. Cries went out as crashes sent metal through limbs—through torsos.

Through (Y/N)’s torso.

(Y/N) couldn’t even move to cover their chest as it bled. They didn’t try to. They knew they were dying. They didn’t want to (gods, please, no, I don’t want this I don’t want this) but they were.

And they couldn’t even reach out to hold their mom and dad’s hands. (Y/N) felt like a child again, but unlike nightmares, they couldn’t run to their parents’ arms to feel safe. Even if they could, the chill of death had already taken their parents’ warmth and comfort.

(Y/N) wished they’d all turned to dust. This was violent, painful, agonizing. Their parents had laid beside them in distress, calling out for help and rescue, dying. No one had come.

And now (Y/N) was alone—the world hadn’t even been kind enough to let them die before their parents.

This was just so wrong. Unfair. Unjust.

“It is unjust.” A calm voice spoke.

(Y/N) didn’t move. They couldn’t, and they were already dying. Their situation couldn’t get worse.

“I can feel your pain.”

This time, a woman, taller than humanely possible, appeared in their line of sight. She knelt among the dust and bodies of the bus and gazed at (Y/N).

She was Egyptian, dressed in a red gown, and wore an intricate necklace of gold and turquoise. Multicolored Sleeves swept out with her arms like wings. Silky black hair fell around her shoulders, and her eyes were lined in kohl. An ostrich feather stood in a circlet and swayed in the wind.

(Y/N)’s eyes landed on the feather, and something in their chest pulled towards it.

The woman tilted her head and watched them in assessment. “You sense the truth.”

“Who…” (Y/N)’s hoarse voice died.

“I am the goddess Ma’at.” The wind whipped around her as she spoke. “I am in search of a guardian. To uphold justice in the face of wrongdoing. To protect harmony from discord. To defend truth from falsehood.”

(Y/N) coughed, and Ma’at tilted her head.

“I can see the truth in your heart. You want justice for everyone who suffers like you,” said Ma’at. She leaned in. “Pledge yourself to me, pledge yourself to the truth, and I will give you the life to do so.”

(Y/N) looked into Ma’at’s eyes and summoned all their strength left.

“Yes.”

2023…

(Y/N) crouched on the roof and dropped onto the balcony below them. The house around them was quiet. The security guards were clueless to their approach, which was just fine. They didn’t want any attention.

(Y/N) opened the sliding door of the balcony and slipped into the display room. They glanced around themself in distaste. None of the artifacts in glass cases belonged to the owner of this house. He’d “acquired” them in the aftermath of the Blip left countries in disarray, just so like many others.

After the return of the Blipped, the problem of stolen artifacts had only gotten worse since the chaos had begun again, letting more people profit off the displaced people and their possessions.

(Y/N) had spent years repatriating the stolen relics from the aftermath of the Blip. This man, Mr. Medrano, was among the worst offenders. He lied about his findings as an “archaeologist” and stole what he needed for glory. And along the way, he removed any competition. A thief, a liar, and a killer. Medrano was a man who brought injustice of all kinds to the world.

And that was precisely what (Y/N) stood against—what Ma’at stood against.

(Y/N) stopped in front of a case of Egyptian artifacts. Their eyes scanned the contents for the relic they were supposed to bring back to Egypt (send back, really, by way of another person. (Y/N) was still just a teenager, so they couldn’t send it back themself without raising suspicions. Luckily, putting something in a hidden box and not showing their face did the trick).

(Y/N) frowned. The hieroglyphic tablet of Tethering wasn’t on the wall. It seemed they were later than expected, and Medrano had begun to work on translation.

Which means it’ll be in his office.

(Y/N) went to the door of the display room and peeked outside. No light, no movement. They moved into the hall and crept down towards the room at the other side of the house. Making sure their gloves were on—no sense leaving fingerprints—(Y/N) reached out and felt the door handle.

The door was unlocked.

Gently, (Y/N) opened it.

Shick!

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they took a step back. A man in a white, bandage-like suit stood above Medrano. He pulled two crescent-shaped blades from his chest, and Medrano’s body slumped to the ground. The man paused and looked towards the door, the moon sighting the crescent-illusion in his hood and the symbol on the forehead and chest.

“There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here,” said the man, but (Y/N) felt in their heart that he wasn’t speaking to them.

“Does it matter? Your job is to punish the wrongdoers in this mansion.”

(Y/N) blinked as they heard a voice echo from behind them. It was a god’s voice. Not Ma’at, no, but most definitely a deity.

“I won’t hurt a kid, Khonshu,” snapped the avatar, and his hood folded back.

(Y/N) turned around and found themself staring up (really up) at a half-man, half-bird skeleton in white wrappings. This was Khonshu.

“I’m not a wrongdoer,” said (Y/N) to Khonshu, holding up their hands. “I’m, uh, an Avatar.”

At that, Khonshu and man stopped.

“You can see him?” said the man, frowning warily.

“I’m the Avatar of Ma’at,” said (Y/N). They shifted. They weren’t used to saying that. “She’s the goddess of truth.” They could see the “truth” of the world more than others, and that included the gods that walked among them.

“That ostrich is interfering with my work,” said Khonshu, irritated.

“You are the one who is not supposed to interfere with human business,” said Ma’at’s calm voice, and (Y/N) glanced at the office’s large window to find her sitting on the sill.

Khonshu’s avatar looked at the window but saw nothing. “Is another god here?”

(Y/N) nodded sharply. This was a little too much. They were used to working by themself.

“You are doing the exact same thing,” said Khonshu.

“I am returning artifacts to our people,” said Ma’at. “I am not interfering in human life more than that.” She glanced at Medrano’s body. “Unlike some.”

Khonshu tsked. “I am delivering justice.”

“A type, yes,” said Ma’at.

“Ma’at,” said (Y/N) quietly. “I’m going to take the tablet..”

“Go ahead, (Y/N),” said Ma’at. “Khonshu will not harm you. You have done no wrong.”

“They interfered with my work,” said Khonshu.

“Irritating is not wrongdoing,” said Ma’at.

(Y/N) decided to leave before the gods continued to argue. It made them uncomfortable. Then again, a lot of interaction did. (Y/N) hadn’t really gotten to slow down and make friends after 2018, so they’d grown used to their own company (or Ma’at’s). Everything else was business, and anything more was out of their realm of understanding.

(Y/N) opened their bag and slipped the wrapped tablet carefully from the table inside. They looked decidedly away from Medrano’s body, glanced at Khonshu’s avatar, and left the room.

If that’s what Avatars and gods outside of themself and Ma’at were like, (Y/N) didn’t want to meet them.

2025…

“(Y/N).”

The now-seventeen-year-old raised their eyes from the book they were reading. “Yes, Ma’at?”

“I have an important job for you.”

(Y/N) frowned. Ma’at never described anything as “important.” Necessary? Yes. Important? No. Everything was equally pertinent to upholding justice and order to Ma’at.

“I need you to retrieve a scarab.”

“Who stole it?” asked (Y/N).

“You are.”

(Y/N) looked at Ma’at in surprise. “What?” Ma’at disliked any injustice or unlawful actions.

“You are stealing the scarab of Ammit,” said Ma’at.

Ammit.

Ammit ruled the scales in the Judgement of the Dead. Ma’at was the Feather of Truth against which human hearts were weighed. One had abandoned true justice; one continued to defend it.

And (Y/N) was stuck in the middle with the burden to protect the truth of it all.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

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astroboots · 1 year

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Idk if you've answered this before, but how boa and frankie met? Was it love at first sight?

At First Sight

Content: Your best friend Santiago introduces you to his other best friend: Frankie Morales

Word Count: 2,000

Homesick Masterlist | Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It is probably not the most romantic thing to say about the man who would one day be your future husband. But the first time you met Frankie, you’d barely noticed he was in the room.

Frankie is one of those men that has a quiet energy about him. Not imposing. Not a braggart. He’s perfectly happy to sit, tucked away into a comfortable corner of the room, sipping on a shitty beer, and almost be forgotten about while the others in the room carry the conversation.

So no, you hadn’t paid much attention to the man with soft curls, and a sleepy smile, when you were screaming your lungs out in the private karaoke booth to the screeching horror of your friends.

In your defense, you're more than a little bit tipsy. Fresh off a six hour exam with wrecked nerves, and Santiago has decided to spend more than his paltry salary with the army should be able to afford on tequila and Aguila that never seems to run out.

Santiago is faring much better than you on your duette rendition of the Celine Dion song you're supposed to be singing together. Because not only can the bastard sing, but he also seems to know the lyrics to the song, instead of whatever you're doing, which is singing the song title over and over again even as the song has moved on. But Santiago saves it, grinning happily as he pulls you in and continues to sing into the creaky microphone.

His sturdy arm, warm and clammy, in the confined small room, hangs over your shoulder. The weight of it is like coming home, and you treasure that contact.

With every chorus, his heat-flushed cheeks inch closer and you try to ignore it, in a room filled with your friends, but you end up leaning into the warmth of him all the same.

When you finally wind down and the song ends, your throat is scratching at the lining. You know that your vocal chords are going to be rendered useless for the rest of that week as you sit back down on the squeaky vinyl sofa with Santiago who is already pouring you another tequila shot and shoving the wedge of lime between your teeth.

Your roommate, Greta, tries to offer Santiago's friend the mic when a Michael Jackson song comes on, but he immediately shakes his head, shyly pulling the cap over his forehead like an ostrich trying to hide its head in the sand, mumbling a a quiet excuse that he’s a much bigger Prince fan.

Throughout the evening, the poor man doesn’t sing, and despite the polite smile on his face, you are convinced that he is probably having the worst time of his life.

Not that Santiago seems to pay any attention. He's having the best time of his life, showing off how much better of a singer he is than the rest of you (the show-off) as he downs one Tequila shot after another like it's goddamned tap water.

Santiago doesn't seem to have any care in the world that he's wrangled this poor man into a post-exam party filled with rowdy strangers drunk off their asses. Which is typical Santiago really.

Shaking your head with a sigh, you tap Santiago on the shoulder, and he leans into you allowing you to cup your hand over his ear so he can hear you over the chaotic wailing in the background.

“Is your friend alright? I don’t know his name—”

“Who? Catfish?” Santiago shouts in your face.

You grimace at that stupid army moniker. “Not calling him that.”

From the corner of your eye, you see the said Catfish look over in your direction at his army nickname being called.

You can't really make much sense of the guy. The only thing you know about him is that he is Santiago's army buddy that's staying with him for a few week while they're on leave.

But there's nothing about the man that screams army about him.

He's soft spoken and polite, and despite the muscular build he's positively skinny. Not the brawny, loudmouthed guys you'd often imagined an army guy would be like. But then again it's not like you've seen or been around many of them. Santiago never brings any of his army friends around you or around his family.

It's a separation he clings onto, two different worlds that should never clash, and he's stubbornly steadfast about his refusal to mix the two.

The only exception he's ever made is for this man named Catfish-- and you can't help but wonder what's so special about this man that would have the most stubborn man in the universe go back on his principles.

"You never bring people from the army around, why him?" you ask.

Santiago, doesn't look up from his tequila shot or at you as he downs it before answering. “His family are some rich hot shots, deals with oil or something in New York, doesn’t get along with them. So I told him to come here before we’re deployed again. Better to be among friends right?”

With a tilt of the head, you can’t help but observe the man across the room, making little effort in hiding your scrutiny.

White faded t-shirt, a worn hat embossed with the company logo ‘Standard Heat Oil’, and overgrown hair underneath, the color of deep mud, weren’t exactly the markings of a trust fund kid.

“He doesn’t look it.”

“That’s a mean thing to say," Santiago says as if he's scolding you, but he's smiling at you as he says it.

He leans back in, even closer to you, until his lips are close to your ear so that you can hear him perfectly clear over the mayhem in the background. "He's my best friend over there. It's only right he gets to meet my best friend over here. Be nice to him."

The first time Frankie meets you, he's nervous.

It feels momentous somehow. Like the sighting of the mythical Chupacabra in the wild. A legendary creature told only in hushed whispers around bonfires, but no one has ever seen.

He knows who you are, seen your name on the military packets you send Santiago. Caught snippets of the letters written in your neat handwriting. On the very rare odd occasion, he's even managed to convince Santiago to share some of the chocolate and snacks you send him (for a hefty price).

Santiago doesn't talk about you much. But he doesn't have to say it in words for Frankie to understand that you're important to him.

It's clear from the way his smile goes soft when he reads your letters in his bunkbed. The way he'll unfailingly waste his time on leave to argue with local vendors over the price of ugly postcards to send to you. The way he hoards you like a secret, far out of bounds, like he doesn't want his life and world in the army to taint you.

So when Santiago invites him over tonight, knowing you'll be there. Frankie knows it's important.

He feels like a fiance about to meet his potential in law for the first time. The desperation to make a good impression. That nervous fluttering in his stomach where he's not sure if it's because he has food poisoning or if the beer here in Florida is just that bad. Except, of course, Santiago is not his boyfriend and you're definitely not Santiago's mother.

So far he's probably not doing a very good job at making a first impression.

Santiago being Santiago, had foregone introductions, and so Frankie never even really got to say hi or tell you his name. In the midst of the crowd, he'd somehow ended up being seated in the far end of the room. Away from you. Away from Santiago, sitting next to a couple he doesn't know who have been trying to jam their tongues into each other's throat like there'll be oil if they drill down deep enough.

Out of nowhere, he hears Santiago calls for him, but when he looks up, Santiago is in deep conversation with you.

He sees you observing him from across the room. Sharp eyes pinned on his form like you're trying to figure out what his deal is. The kind of look a shopkeeper of a bodega around the corner would have on a potential shoplifter.

And shit, that means the two of you are talking about him, doesn't it?

His skin prickles and stings under his t-shirt, and he grips hard around the neck of the beer bottle, trying to force himself to take another sip to look busy.

"Oi Fish!" Santiago shouts from the other end of the room, and this time Frankie's sure of it, Santiago is actually talking to him and not just about him.

Frankie looks up to see Santiago gesture at the door, signalling it's time to leave as he stands up and grabs your jacket. Frankie gets up in a haste with a murmured bye on his way out, but he doesn't think it makes much of a difference, the couple next to him is still busy playing whack-a-mole into each other's throats.

He joins the two of you in the cramped hallway. It's dark and smells musty of beer and sweat.

You're a little bit worse for wear at this point, swaying on your step and you're only three steps in when your shoe catches on the lump of the carpet and jolt forward seconds from landing on your face.

His reflexes react before his mind does. Arm flying out to catch you by the waist. Even through the cotton of your shirt, your skin feels warm against his palm.

You're looking up at him with wide eyes, face inches from his. Sharp and piercing, they're intimidating somehow, like if he looks long enough into them you'll find out everything there is about him and yet he can't look away.

"Oh, thanks," you say.

You're still staring up at him, and shit, he's been standing still all this time, not moving... still holding onto you hasn't he?

"You can let go Fish, I got her," Santiago says next to you. Hand already placed on the small of your back and Frankie can feel his arm brush up against him.

The small touch from Santiago is all it takes to send a shock through his spine, and his hand flinches away like it scalds him.

In that brief second, his eyes catches yours again, your head tips to the side, eyes curious. He follows your gaze, to see you observing his hand, before your eyes flicker towards Santiago's arm looped around your waist.

Maybe he's just paranoid. Maybe it's all the nervous energy in him. But something in your eyes seems to change. Recognition, and Frankie feels a cold grip around his spine, like he's burning in a firepit and freezing to death on a snow covered mountain all at once.

"Everything okay, Fish?" Santiago asks.

All Frankie can do is nod dumbly, as he forces himself to take a step forward to keep up with you two. "Where we going?"

"Grabbing food. There's an amazing Cubano place nearby." Santiago answers as he pushes open the door to the outside. "They also serve Yuca fries that this one is obsessed with", he continues as he nods towards you. "You love that stuff too right Frank?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Frankie takes in the cooling air of the outside trying to calm down his nerves and the sudden spike of adrenaline that seems to refuse to leave his system.

"See! You two have things in common already, you'll be best friends in no time," Santiago chimes.

You laugh brightly at that.

"Yes," you say, and your head tips towards Frankie, eyes observant. But there's a warm and knowing smile on your face that makes the anxious knot gnawing in his stomach ease somehow. "I think Frankie and I have a lot in common."

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#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales #santiago garcia #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #💌 asks

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jtem · 7 months

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#screaming ostrich #two filmmakers #no not me #west newton #iphone #photography #life blogging

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haet-sal · 10 months

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A File For Junhui//a Jun x reader

TAGS: Jun x fem!reader, fluff, SMUT included near the end, Seungkwan+Seungcheol features somewhat, a whole meant-to-be sort of love

Synopsis: when concert-pianist-in-training!Jun found your music (before he even found out you went to the same university and in the same major) he wished to himself, damn. I wish somebody loved me like that. But what does he know—all those songs were literally, I mean literally, all about him.

W.c.: 12.2k

Warning: basically bullying and Y/N is really INSECURE about her looks, ONESHOT NO PART 2!!! Jun might feel a little OOC but you should imagine the stage performer!jun, not irl shy jun!!, SMUT+PIV

Excerpt: “These are songs I wrote without lyrics…” you explain slowly. “They all mostly sound the same, please don’t look, it’s embarrassing—oh and that—” you point at the file Jun was reaching for— “that’s my lovesongs folder.”

Oh, wait.

“Um—Wait!”

Jun had opened the file up, and your heart shoots through your chest, beating wildly. You wanted to scream, curse, something, anything, just wish this moment away—

All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. Bloody rushing like crazy to your head, in a frenzy.

You named the folder, in your stupid head that thought no one would ever see these: A FILE FOR JUNHUI.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What does the name mean? 1096? What does it mean?”

“Who cares, Seungkwan? You want the song for your project or not?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan huffed, “I do. But I deserve to know what all the titles mean—your titles are always so cryptic.”

You stare the boy down, eyebrows furrowed. A stronghold against giving away what the title meant. “That’s what artists do. Good artists. Keep asking me questions and I’ll stop lending you my songs for your vocal projects.”

“Jeez, Y/N, I need them,” Seungkwan said in the whiniest, babiest tone you've ever heard. “The feedback’s amazing when I sing original songs.” Feeling like he had to brown-nose a little, he added: “Especially when they’re as good as yours.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright. I’ll email you the full audio file later.”

“Are you really not going to tell me what the title means?”

“It’s…” you sigh. Seungkwan’s two warm brown eyes are watching you intently. He really wants to know, but if he found out... “It’s embarrassing.” You leave him without an answer.

But at this point what about your life wasn’t embarrassing?

Case in point: 1—You didn’t even have to go that far back to see it. Last night your roommates Chungha and Jia went out to the club, or bar, or wherever kids like going these days, and came home each with a man behind her. You met the two in the kitchen, where you were just pouring yourself some warm milk.

In your pajamas.

You came face-to-face with the two girls, and their accompanying men, Chungha wearing a sequinned minidress that probably costs four times your nicest dress and for even less fabric; and your other roommate, Jia, was wearing jeans and a fake ostrich feather top. She looked amazing. They looked amazing.

You were in your pajamas. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t that big of a deal because it was 1 am in the morning, but all you were thinking at that moment was, y/n, you fucking idiot. If you dressed like them, if you went out like them, you could be getting laid right now. You wouldn’t have to cry about being ugly or feel like you’re utterly undesirable or curse your entire existence—if you’d just dressed in sequins and ostrich feathers.

If you knew how to dress. If you knew how to walk. If you knew how to smile. But it didn’t matter now. The two men had the munchies. They tore open a box of cookies you were keeping for yourself, some fell on the floor. Shaky drunken-slash-high hands. The four people stared you down; if they hadn’t maybe you could have told them the cookies were yours. One guy was picking them up and eating them from off the floor. Jia was halfway through screaming something at you. You slowly backed out of the room with your warm milk, and thought more about your situation when you were alone in your room. Maybe if you knew how to dress, if you were interested in the things they were interested in, maybe you’d get along with Jia and Chungha. Maybe you’d be happier. But you were too… you knew the word. You just couldn’t say it. One of many words that had been hurled at you for years. Ugly, unlovable, weird. All those words that applied to you when you were little and didn’t stop applying to you. They swam around in your head and followed you into your dreams.

Case in point: 2—the things you let your roommate do to you every morning.

Picture this scene, every morning: Chungha’s already dressed. Jia’s in the bath, but she’s locked the door so you can’t even get in to brush your teeth. You’re waiting outside the door.

“Jia, can I come in yet?” That’s usually what you open with. Which is usually met with a “mmm!” or “just a minute!”

A minute turns into 3. You’re waiting in your bathrobe, you can’t just go to school like this and she knows it. She’s the reason your first period lecturer hates you so much, but ‘my roommate was hogging the bathroom’ becomes a stupid excuse, and also entirely your own problem.

“Hey, Jia? I really need to shower,” you’ll try again, knocking on the bathroom door. Which usually makes her mad.

“I’m using it, Y/N, don’t be a fucking bitch.” She usually snaps this in such a biting tone.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just…” you trail on and on. One time, you heard her snicker in there. She was on the phone.

“Yeah, I’m just making her late on purpose. I fucking hate her…”

You’d have thought by college the mean high schoolers would have matured, but Jia was a curse in the flesh. She was never going to give up tormenting the weird kid. It was very unfortunate you had to live with her.

Jia wasn’t all bad, though. She would come out of there, when she needed to get to her classes. Which makes you about 15 minutes late to your first lecture, even when you hurried up in the bathroom with all the time you were given. In conclusion, you were a loser and an embarrassment and you know everyone, including Chungha, was waiting for you to stand up to her, but you just couldn’t. In a way, you kept believing you deserve to be pushed around like that. For being ugly, for being weird. Whatever complex that was.

Case in point: 3—you’re crying writing songs in your room dedicating it all to one person. Wen Junhui, who lived in the pianists’ conservatory, eating and breathing Beethoven for a living and not knowing that you existed, at all.

You thought maybe you liked Jun the way that 12-year-olds made fanpages about BTS, or gave valentine’s gifts to the most popular guy in class, knowing he only dates seniors. He was just simply better than you in every way and you wanted to be a part of that, you thought that if maybe somebody like him loved you, you could start seeing yourself as a person that deserved love.

You’d met him before in person—you weren’t that crazy to develop a crush on someone you’d never talked to before—but like everyone else, the first instant you fell for him was when he played at the concert rehearsal at the conservatory.

You’re an idiot. You fell in love before he even played the piano.

It wasn’t Jun’s turn yet. But he stood to the right of the stage awaiting his turn, really close to the edge—sometimes pushed by the other students backtracking, and almost falling off, to which he reacted by regaining his balance and laughing it off.

A girl was playing Bach or Debussy or something or the other. Jun kept laughing. You felt something not horrible rise to the surface inside of your stomach, like inside of your emotions—and anything not horrible is wonderful to your brain, so you guess that this feeling was wonderful, perhaps even beautiful, something you had never felt before, just looking at the stage lights frame Jun’s face all the right ways: cheekbones bright, the bridge of his nose shiny.

You tell yourself okay, this is stupid, I’m not in love. But you knew if you kept looking at his face it would only take a few more seconds until you really do fall in love, guaranteed, so you averted your eyes, and looked down at his beige-pant-clad legs, and…

And he’s tapping his foot and his shoes are beige, too.

You didn’t even need to raise your eyes back up to his face, to that shy little smile, again. He was tapping his foot. Timing the notes. He was a pianist. That was suddenly so spectacular to you. This boy standing in front of you is a pianist.

So that was the first season of Jun; like fall, you fell. And then winter came and you found your feelings entirely unchanged, but pathetically so, because you were never going to make a move.

You always hoped to run into him sometime somewhere along on campus, but it never happened. But it was okay. You liked imagining that he was real, living his own life—and even if you both weren’t real, just two barbie toys being moved around in a make-shift campus, doll Jun was running his doll hands through doll books and it made you romanticize this universe of lack of autonomy more.

And his doll parts had been everywhere, sadly.

You hear about him kissing some senior at a town club, you see his best friend post stories of them partying. It felt bad, knowing he was so different from you and you couldn’t even change what you were. Which once again brought you back to the main issue: Jia.

It was one of those evenings where she had appointments outside, and you had the apartment to yourself. But you still couldn’t enjoy it, couldn’t just sit on your computer and mix tunes all day long. Jia’s voice nagged you internally, calling you every synonym of ‘loser’ in the book.

And even your songs were definitely written by a loser: ‘I told you I loved you/you made me swear/I’d never say a thing like that again’

You slam your laptop shut. Was all you did make dumb lo-fi music and then stress yourself out? Would it kill you to write an actual song that people actually wanted to hear; make people-pleasing music, instead of making music just to appease your feelings?

Deciding you couldn’t deal with just this anymore, you closed your laptop, and put a hoodie on so you could walk around the town.

Being that the town had both an arts college and a musician’s conservatory, it was impossible to get away from someone who had something to do with it. But the town center, where most students went most nights, was quiet, quaint, and always had street musicians.

A man was playing an accordion by the stream, in front of the lines of restaurants usually populated by kids on campus. The accordion music filled the entire night with its soft melody, and the further away from it you were, the more dreamlike it all seemed. Maybe you were right in coming out. The streetlamps were giving out a yellow light that the water reflected in golden flecks you couldn’t touch. For a long time, you just watched the lights and listened to the music—thinking, maybe you could add an accordion to your music. You’ve never worked with it before, but now you have an idea about it. An accordion behind a verse about Jun’s eyes, maybe coupled with some sax in the background.

Not that the song had to be about Jun’s eyes, you just thought of the first thing that came to mind. Now you feel embarrassed it was the first thing.

For some reason, as you stood by the bridge listening to the accordion, you were reminded of when you first saw him, when you were working with Jeon Wonwoo somewhere in the university. Jun came to pick his roommate up for lunch, when he was just a freshman and no one even knew who he was. Before he played at that Christmas concert and literally everybody in school developed a crush on him.

When you first saw him, you didn’t think he was a pianist. He had just come from practice. He talked to Wonwoo about whatever, and then he looked over at you, and asked if you wanted to go to lunch with them. You froze up on your seat. Pathetically, tears brimmed your eyes and you blinked them away—it was the beginning of living with Jia, where you had been treated so lowly that the smallest kind gesture was enough to make you cry. Jun saw that you got a little sad. He made a joke to cheer you up, with a smile. Instead of laughing or joking back, you averted your eyes at the ground and shook your head.

“I don’t think I’ll go to lunch with you guys, sorry.” You were hungry, but Jia made you feel like you didn’t deserve anything good. You didn’t know what to say, or how to act around Jun and Wonwoo. “You go, Wonwoo,” you said. “I’ll keep the counter for you.” Later you felt dumb for tearing up from the invitation when Jun probably didn’t mean it, he was just offering to be nice. It was stupid.

And then the Christmas concert came, and Jun played a piano solo—a 20th century composer, which you appreciated. It wasn’t the 400th Mozart piece that evening, finally. From the moment he got on stage, girls went wild for him ever since, Wen Junhui with the magic hands. And Jia… your worst enemy fell in love with him, and that was when you realized you were never getting anywhere with Jun. If girls like Jia liked him… what was even the point of trying?

Now, you walk around the campus, past the accordion player and the stream with its bridge and turn the corner to get to the restaurants. You fished in your pockets for money, for the accordion player…

You kind of wanted an ice cream at the parlor near the river, but decided to give it away to the accordion guy. You couldn’t spare another for the ice cream, so you decided to just go back home, get back to your room and tell Seungkwan you went out, since he's always telling you to explore the town. Technically you weren’t lying, you did go around the block.

Just as you were dropping the last of your monthly allowance in front of the (very grateful) accordion player, you felt watched. You turned to the street opposite where there were tables lined up at the front of one of many of the restaurants lining the bridge, and you see Jia, and her date. They’re both watching you.

You couldn’t see the man very well because the lights of the lamppost skipped over him and shined more on Jia, but he was definitely looking at you.

A weird, menacing look flashed through her eyes, and she said something quickly to her date, and while you were working on walking faster away from their table, she called you over.

“Y/N! Hey! Come say hi to Jun, you know him, right?”

Jun?

Jun Jun Jun Jun—

This can’t be happening.

Your legs carried you to their table, your brain must have decided to not be rude—it didn’t really consult with the rest of your body, because your heart was beating out of your chest and you did not want to be there, saying hi to Wen Junhui in your giant black hoodie that made you look like those slug aliens in star wars, and you were going to have to stand next to Jia, in front of Jun, which would definitely make him realize why he didn’t like girls like you that didn’t dress up or even look presentable. He was going to look at Jia and feel so lucky you weren’t the one he was on the date with.

“Hey,” Jia starts. “Jun, this is my roommate. Y/N, this is Jun. He’s training to be a concert pianist.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. Every time you see Jun from afar, you’ve loved that wide-grinned expression of his. You never thought you’d see it this close. You gape at him, wide-eyed, unblinking.

God, his smile is blinding.

Shit. Now you’ve waited too long to say ‘nice to meet you’ back, and it’s weird.

You didn’t want to say ‘nice to meet you’ because you’ve already met… be it a year ago. But now you realize you can’t point that out, because he obviously doesn’t remember you. You swallow.

Jia is cupping her hand over his on the table. You felt a pang in your chest, but just about, a small pain compared to how you were embarrassing yourself right now.

“Uh…” There it is, there’s your go-to phrase. Uh. Uh, uh, uh… “Uh Huh. Right. Good to meet you. I’ll get going…” You realize your hoodie’s not up and your hair is a mess. You were a mess. You pull the hoodie up until it’s covering all the way down your eyes. You look even more like a mess. “Bye!” You step off the restaurant platform, and run into the lamp pole at the side of the restaurant. “Ow!”

Fuck. Jun got up from his seat to help you, but you zap away from his touch like it burned. Now you were getting up and walking away, eyes on the ground like it would kill you to look up at the world. Running into the lamp pole did its damage: you were zigzagging along the pavement. Head down, so it feels like the restaurant and Jia and Jun disappeared behind you and never even happened…

Why did you have to meet Wen Junhui like that? Why did everything have to be this way with Jia? Only when you were halfway home you realized Jia is absolutely aware of your crush on Jun—she's heard you speaking over the phone to Seungkwan, she definitely has heard you talking about him… You realize she called you over to humiliate you, because she knew you would embarrass yourself in front of him. You feel like kicking yourself. Played right into her trap. Stupid, stupid… You felt like if you looked at yourself in the mirror tonight you’d probably cry. You needed to curl under your sheets as soon as possible, and forget about the day…

Back at the restaurant, your roommate cackled. “She’s so weird. It’s a pain living with someone like that.”

Jun frowned. “Was she okay?”

“Oh yeah, of course. It’s just always embarrassing to be in public when your whole existence is a mess.” Jia threw her head back and laughed, shoving a forkful of salad into her mouth. “You know those songs that Boo Seungkwan sings for vocal classes? She wrote them. And she has an album out on band camp—Wildflower Dreams? That’s all her.”

“That’s her?” Jun gawked, mouth open. “Wow…”

“Yeah, but she’s weird.”

“Eccentric musicians are cool.”

“Yeah, but… that’s like, outlandish eccentric. Y/N is pathetic, sad and weird. It’s different. And she’s not a real musician. I mean, can you call a spoken word poem over sad beat music?”

“What—what does she study?”

“Music production—who cares, Jun? I just wanted you to meet my weird roommate. I think we should stop talking about her now.” Jia grabbed Jun’s hand over the table, squeezing it lightly just to bring him back to the conversation. She suddenly had a pang of regret calling you over to the table; now she couldn’t bring him back to the conversation at hand anymore; Jun looked worried about you—she didn’t think he would care, but apparently…

“Jun,” Jia called, “she’s just some weird girl that doesn’t fucking know how to fit in. It’s not a big deal.”

Jun frowned, avoiding his date’s eyes. This was when she realized she really had made a mistake calling you over. “Do you… know what morning classes she has?”

Seungkwan performs 1096 privately to his professors and evaluators, although later all the students want to see the recordings, so the entire productions class was crowded around, you included, although you didn’t like crowds a lot.

Seungkwan pulls you aside as his voice surrounds the class through the lecture hall speakers. “I figured it out,” he told you.

You asked what.

“June.”

“June?”

“Tenth June, 96. 10-96. The only letters left are Jun. J-U-N.”

“You figured it out…” you started to laugh, a little light-hearted since you trusted Seungkwan and knew that he could never betray you with gossip or rumors. “Yes,” you told him. “Yes, Jun…”

Seungkwan raised his eyebrows all dramatically and looked over your shoulder at someone else. “Happy talking,” he says softly, and rejoins the class in the crowd.

“Hey.” Honey-voiced, too light, too airy, just soft and breezy.

Wen Junhui.

You freeze in the spot, and your own music sounds so absolutely grotesque. You had to delete it, start anew. Everything sounds horrible to you. You rip your gaze away from the class for politeness’s sake, and also because you really wanted to know what Jun looked like right now.

“I'm Jun.” As if you didn’t know. “We met the other day, but I just wanted to introduce myself again. Can you tell me your name?”

Um. “It's um - um - Y/N.” After a minute's pause, you add: “L/N.”

“That's cool, to put a face and a name to your music,” Jun gushed, but you started to doubt how genuine his enthusiasm was. Was he playing a joke on you…? What was this, exactly?

“Wanna talk somewhere else? People are coming in for their next lecture.”

So Jun takes you to a sunny little spot outside in the hallway, right in front of the window sill. You lean the side of your body into the wall, just looking up at him, thinking this is a dream.

“You gave away a full note,” Jun says absentmindedly as he started the conversation.

You thought he was talking about a note in music—did you make a mistake? “Huh?”

“The accordion man, back at the restaurant. You gave him a full note—not even a coin. I thought it was cool.” Oh, so he meant note, like money…

“Shit, how long were you guys watching me?!” you blurted nervously, then collected yourself: “uh… I mean, I like supporting those kind of people. Plus, his hands looked so blue and frozen…”

“Jia wasn’t watching you that long,” says Jun. “I was, though. You caught my eye.”

Probably because you’re such a freak, you thought to yourself.

“You know, Y/N, I was wondering… if I could play on one of your songs, if you’re working on a new album? If you don’t want my type of piano on the track, I can always harmonize in the back, I’ve done it for Jihoon’s stuff—”

“Hold up,” you say, pushing him back by the chest a little because he was getting way too close and the only thing you can think of was kissing him right there. “How do you even know I make music?”

“I've listened to all your albums on bandcamp.” You’re shaking your head, frowning. Hold up, what the hell? Jun went on: “I love the whole Daisy album. My favorite is Cherry—”

“That one? But that's so old and only like ninety seconds long,” you interrupt. And it's not even about Jun.

“Yeah!” Jun laughed. “I'll never forgive you for shortening my favorite song like that!” You didn't know why, but he was reaching over to cup his hand over yours, which was just resting on the length of the windowsill. Like the skinship was normal to him or something. You pull back, and he did too, with an apologetic smile.

You must be magnetic or something. His hand kept coming back up to hold yours. With the brush of his skin against yours—soft pianist fingers, but still calloused on some parts of his palm—you guessed from playing the guitar—against the back of your palm. You shudder covertly.

Jun started to hum the song, and you broke into a smile that you had been holding back for too long.

“Mmm, mmm, cherry, my cherry… everywhere the light touches, it shines, wrote you a poem with just two lines…” Shyly, he looked down at his shoes with a sharp breath. “It's such a pretty tune.”

You can’t stop smiling, because when’s the last time anyone’s ever treated you this nicely?

You gulped down saliva that wasn't there, a dry throat. You usually don't get complimented on your work, mainly because you refuse to show anyone, but… now, this was coming from Wen Junhui.

“You give Seungkwan songs to perform, right? I was wondering if you could do that for me?"

“Uh…” You thought of it. You knew you had to accept—or else Jun would disappear from view and you'd never see him again. You wanted to prolong this moment for a long time, for as long as you could get. Jun wasn't the type to care about people like you. You were the background to his stage presence, just a face in the crowd. “Are you free? We can go through my files right now!”

“Yeah, sounds good!” God, how can his adorable accent be so enunciated with just three words?

The walk out to the campus felt more spiritual like anything, like in Spirited Away or Avatar: The Last Airbender when they enter the spirit world—okay, those aren’t real examples, but that’s the closest you can imagine it to be. Because it felt like your feet weren’t touching the ground, and you were sure once you got to the gate, that if you grabbed the handle, your hand would go right through—your heart was beating fast, but in a way that felt numb. There has to be more adrenaline than hemoglobin in your blood right now.

Jun reached over trying to help you open the door outside, and the moment your hands touched, a string of electricity sparked between the two of you. Zap. You both jumped a little. “Oh,” he said, “sorry.” Once you reached a spot under a shady tree he demurely sat and watched you open your files, handing him headphones so he could listen. You pulled out the one you were most proud of: the music that had already been released online already.

Jun quietly looked through the files humming the tunes trying to get a sense of them, moving his fingers along to identify the chords.

“I’ve heard all these,” he says. “Do you have others?”

“But,” you protest, “they’re bad. I mean, not bad necessarily, but raw and unfurnished.”

“You know that’s what makes the songs so good, right?”

You gave in and handed him your other file of note sheets, mindlessly letting him leaf through it. “It’s my songs I wrote back in autumn,” you explained. “I don’t know, I just sort my music through the period of time I was working on, like sometimes 30 or so songs in one file. Like making an album, you know? I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever really sell whole albums, but…”

“Why can’t you make an album?” Jun asks.

“Well you know, I’m not… some pop star…”

“You could be.”

“No, Jun, I don’t… I don’t look the part.” The air turned awkward as you said that, you saw Jun’s forehead crease in a small frown. Right, right, self-deprecation is generally frowned upon… You swallow, trying to get rid of that moment.

“What’s in there?” Jun asked, pointing towards the other folders. You pull out the one the cursor is on.

“These are songs I wrote without lyrics…” you explain slowly. “They all mostly sound the same, please don’t look, it’s embarrassing—oh and that—” you point at the file Jun was reaching for— “that’s my lovesongs folder.”

Oh, wait.

“Um—Wait!”

Jun had opened the file up, and your heart shoots through your chest, beating wildly. You wanted to scream, curse, something, anything, just wish this moment away—

All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. Bloody rushing like crazy to your head, in a frenzy.

You named the folder, in your stupid head that thought no one would ever see these: A FILE FOR JUNHUI.

Fuck.

Now Jun was going through the audios, acting like he didn't see the writing on top of it, but you know it's exactly in his line of sight—you can’t even let yourself live in denial.

This was it, you thought, he's gonna think I’m a weirdo and he'll get a restraining order on me now.

Instead, he just asks:

“Can I play these?”

You lift your eyes up to look at his face, shocked by how… undisturbed he looked. You started to doubt he even saw the name of the folder, but you weren’t dumb—he had to have seen it.

“Y-yeah, sure… any one you want.”

“I've never heard this one before,” Jun says, gliding his finger over the sheet music. “Look into my heart, where flowers have bloomed, a song written about you…” He was reading out the lyrics, before he started humming along to it. You're filled with an emotion that feels like wholesomeness, you grit your teeth to resist it. It feels too good.

“That one's not released yet… I meant to, but um… I don’t know, just haven't gotten around to it.”

You’re tapping your foot on the floor as a way to fight the feeling from overwhelming you, but you can’t stop it, you could just start shouting for joy and embarrassment and everything else in between. You have never been more overloaded with emotions.

“These are great, thanks…” Jun neatly sorted the file back to where it came from, after pulling out the songs he wanted. “Actually, I wanted to ask you this, too—can you give me the audio file for Cherry? Just the rough drafts, if you still have those. It’s my favorite song ever, you know?”

“Oh yeah—sure—” you go through your laptop for it, and then Jun says:

“So, who'd you write it for?”

You freeze up. “Uh, one of my friends' favorite scents is cherries, so…” Online friend. The only people that could stay around you were the ones that couldn't see what a mess you were.

“Oh, shoot,” goes Jun, “I was kinda hoping it's about me.”

You froze up, slowly coming back up to face Jun, cheeks burning like they never had before. Your life was embarrassing, but it has never gotten this bad. “Why… why would it be about you?”

“I don’t know, what do you usually write your songs about?”

“Uh, definitely… definitely not about you.”

“For Junhui,” Jun read out, and you feel yourself cringe—toe-curling, eye-scrunching cringe. “Hmm. Common name.”

You stared down at your shoes for the longest time, trying to will the shame and awkwardness to go away. All the people you could embarrass yourself in front of, and it happened to be global campus crush Jun.

It’s Sunday, and you’re getting your work done for the school day tomorrow, when you hear your roommates leave. Today was one of the days you felt like interacting, so you went: “guys, it’s Monday tomorrow.”

Jia rolled her eyes, while Chungha started to explain that Sunday night was a promotional night, there were conservatory people there, and everything, and sensing their annoyance, you went back into your room.

In the dark of the night, you don’t hear your roommates come in, way past midnight, but you hear Jia’s sobbing.

“Chungha?” you spoke quietly into the kitchen, where light sobs were coming from. Jia lay there, draped over the veranda, howling in embarrassment. All you could hear was “and she’s so old! And ugly! How could he choose to dance with her?”

Chungha spared a glance at you, and merely waved her hands for you to get the fuck out of there—although rude, it was so you didn’t cross paths with the mean girl and make life worse for yourself.

“Come on,” Chungha was telling her, “he’s not even that hot.”

“He’s the hottest guy in school… and… he… has… nice… pianist fingers!” Jia says, speech ruined by tears.

You wondered if you knew the person they were talking about, although if your guesses were right, it probably was. You inched away from the kitchen, closing the door behind you, when the doorbell rang. The two girls probably don’t hear it; you open the door, not even checking through the peephole, despite the fear of assassination, or some creepy guy following the girls back from the club.

It’s Jun. It’s fucking Jun, dark-haired, tall, beautiful, Jia-would-kill-you-if-you-looked-at-him-Jun.

You actually get chills in some type of way as you look at him, and he’s not even looking at you. He’s looking over your shoulder, with a certain sleepy quietness in his eyes that told you he was buzzed. He rests his hand on the door frame coolly, and speaks with cocktail breath, “hi.”

He must be drunk. There’s no way he isn’t. The balancing himself on the door frame looks cool, but it’s also for practical purposes so he doesn’t, like, fall over.

“Jia’s crying,” you say, and realize she’d probably hate that you disclosed that information once it comes out of your mouth. “Shit, don’t tell her I said that. But I don’t think she wants to see you.”

Jun looks at you from the corner of his eyes, head turned a little bit away, and even though you like him you can’t risk setting your cruel roommate off again, not with now possessive she was about him.

He’s not speaking until he does. And that takes a while. Maybe he’s trying to get the right words out while simultaneously trying to not sound drunk. “I’m not here to see her,” he says, “I’m here to see you.”

What?

“So can we talk?” he asks, motioning with a slight nudge of his face to the stairs.

You look back at the apartment, where you could still hear his “girlfriend” crying. Whatever he wants to talk to you about, it can’t be good. He’s probably here to convince you to help him win her back, but you weren’t willing to waste any effort on reviving a relationship WHOSE HALF IS A GUY YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH.

“I…”

Jun says with a raised eyebrow, “you gonna say something?”

“Um, no.” That’s all you can manage. And a nice “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Which is rude at first glance, but that’s the kind of thing you made up your mind to say to him ever since Jia got all possessive about him.

Jun sighed, disappointed, but you started to think he had a side to him that Jia didn’t know—but you did. It was in the childish way he would tap his feet to music, or get excited about meeting the musician behind his favorite songs. It was the way he was passionate about piano, too. You saw things in him, things you wanted to keep to yourself.

“... why?” he spoke. You frowned, asking him to go on—but as quietly as he could, since you didn’t want your roommates to know he came to see you. “Why don’t you ever say hi at school? I know we’re not really friends—I don’t even make that many friends, but… I don’t know, would be nice if you had said hi.”

“Uh.” You couldn’t give him anything. You kept telling yourself you were a loser, that nothing was going to happen between you and Jun, and he likes your music, he was a fan—so that’s all what it was.

“Whatever,” Jun says. “I’m drunk, so I hope I forget about this. I hope when I wake up I still believe you like me somewhat still.” He turned his back to you as he walked away, and you stared after, hoping he’d look back. He didn’t. You left the door open even after he had left the building, wondering what it would have been like if you actually had articulated everything you felt.

“Are you okay?” your senior asks, one hand against the small of your spine—usually you'd be concerned by any skin contact, but you knew Seungcheol could be trusted. You never got a wrong vibe from him.

You nodded absentmindedly.

“Great. Listen,” he says, “I’ve got this big project coming up. And my professor’s evil, like he won’t go easy on the grades unless what I turn in is revolutionary. Plus I’m up against Lee Jihoon for this, so…” You blinked at him, not understanding. “Let’s work on something. Together. I’ll give you my lyrical experience and my senior tips, and you compose like Beethoveen for me.”

“Are you sure I’m the one you want to work with?”

“With your talent?” Seungcheol leans back and grins at you, the biggest grin he’s ever given anyone. “I’d be surprised you’re not always booked and busy like a ex-idol-group-DJ right now.”

You thought about it, just wondering what could ever go through Choi Seungcheol’s mind that he would say that. The senior noticed, too, checking himself for whatever he said.

“Oh. Do you not like the word ‘talent’? Sorry, I meant you honed your skills yours—”

“I don’t really have any skills, though,” you mumbled.

“What are you talking about?! Your indie band was one of the top rising stars of indie pop bandcamp, and the fact that you’re here in music production classes—you’ve got talent and soul, and Wildflower Dreams has a future—”

“Are you a fan?” came a voice from behind you.

You watched the lights in Seungcheol’s eyes change as he averted his eyes to look at who was speaking. “Oh! Jun!”

“I’m a big fan of Y/n,” Jun says. “If that’s what we’re talking about. Mind if I sit?”

You hadn’t spoken to Jun ever since he found your folder of songs on him, and, also, hadn’t called him to include him on your project. You knew he could play guitar beautifully. You knew it would fit your songs. You just… didn’t feel like you deserved him.

“We were just talking about Y/n’s music,” says Seungcheol. “I wanted to include her compositions in the new thing I’m producing.”

Jun froze. You think it’s a look of disdain and betrayal, but you couldn’t be sure. “You’re collabing?” Ah, now you’re sure. It’s definitely betrayal. As Seungcheol affirms, you realized you and the senior were both watching Jun as he went through a face journey, swallowing each word that comes to his mind until he finally settles on: “have a nice time, guys.”

Clearing his throat, Jun leaves your library table, shuffling away.

“We were supposed to collab,” you explained. “Right now. I guess he felt rejected. I should call him.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, clearly… Also he’s in love with you,” Seungcheol puts it flatly. He reached out his packet of snacks for you. “Cookie?”

“He’s not in love with me.”

“He is. You should definitely take a cookie—they’re store-bought, but one day I’ll get make good use of the oven in our dorm and—”

“Why would you say Junhui is in love with me? Twice?” you demanded, keeping your voice down to a whisper since you were in the library. “Like, why would you even—”

“Because he is,” says Seungcheol, “and it’s not even the dry puppy love type of love. He got jealous. He’s passionately in love. Expert’s opinion.”

You scoffed.

“So… will you help me with this grading test, or are you that busy? So busy you won’t even text Wen Junhui back?”

It’s rehearsal night where the conservatory students and the art school students mingle for a concert, and you see Jia looking around the chairs of performers, searching for someone. For you, it’s the opposite–you stare at your feet, hoping no one notices you. Not any seniors coming to congratulate you on your projects, and definitely not Wen Junhui.

The only person you wanted to see was Seungkwan, who was part of the vocal in the choir and waved at you excitedly and smiled whenever you caught his eyes. But other than that…

Jun was the first pianist they’d chosen; there were two. The piano is slanted on stage so everyone could see the musicians, and Jun was just… behind the wooden lid, in and out of side as he rocked to the music.

It was the only time you felt like looking at him, at a place where he couldn’t spot you looking at him or even stare back at you; looking up at someone who will never see you in a sea of other people. This was all you wanted to be for Jun, who shines like the sun on stage, a prodigy, a talent, something way bigger than anything you were.

There’s bouquets being given out to the performers after the show. You loiter; Seungkwan is talking to a whole bunch of your producer colleagues, including Seungcheol and Jihoon, who were the only people you knew. You were alone.

“Jun!” Jia’s voice was shrill as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “Baby!”

Yikes, did you have to go through and see all this? You look away, pretending to walk away—the night was over anyway, but you were thinking of savoring the walk back to the dorm, while people like Jia had better things to do than retire to bed so early.

But someone tall was striding over to you, in a white suit, so fairytale-prince-esque as he gently turned your shoulders around. “Are you leaving already?!”

He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so loud; he apologized that he was just excited. Jun grinned at you. You wanted to lie, that Seungkwan or someone wanted you, but no one came to get you; you were forgotten to all but one person… unfortunately.

“If you’re not going anywhere,” starts Jun, “do you want to go on a date?”

You saw that he slid a wallet into the inside pocket of his coat; he’d been planning to celebrate after the concert. Was it just meant to be you? Or could it have been just anyone?

“Sure,” you say. “Are your other orchestra friends coming?”

Jun looked confused, almost like he couldn’t articulate that confusion, like a cat with its head tilted. Then he walks over to the orchestra people—”give me one second.”

After going around leaning over everyone’s ears and asking them to join, Jun comes back to you all straightened up, with a certain mischief in his eyes. “Bad luck,” he pronounces, “no one wants to come. Shall we?”

You end up at an ice cream parlor, one of the more popular date rendezvous around the town, and Jun swears everything is on him as he orders a large sundae, which melts more than he could eat.

You thought he’d ask you about school, music, projects, but he’s asking in detail about each of your albums.

“I always thought ‘marriage’ was about death, and like… ego death?” he prodded. “There’s a better word in Mandarin, but I just…”

“That’s too nice,” you tell him. “I can’t believe someone things that deep about my stuff…”

Jun’s sundae cherry looked lonely, and anyway there were two on two mountains of ice creams. He gave you one.

“I’m glad we’re alone, actually, I think I’d be too shy if Seungkwan or someone came along.”

Jun nodded.

“How did you invite them, anyway?” you giggle. “Well, I guess it’s good on your wallet.”

He scoffed. “You wanna know how I invited them?”

As you nodded, Jun’s hand (which you see now was kinda way larger than yours) slid out of sight to tuck your hair behind your ear, and he leaned over, whispering: “I went over, and whispered into each of their ears: ‘the girl I like thinks I want to bring other people on my date, so pretend I’m inviting you and shake your head.’ And then… they all shook their heads. I don’t know what made them do it, though.”

You looked at him, and he didn’t even dare face you this time, looking down at his sundae. His ears were red, which was quite a feat of you; although he had been the one that embarrassed himself.

You didn’t want to draw conclusions. Although everything he did just pointed to one conclusion. Still, you wanted to play dumb—until he straight up looked into your eyes and told you he liked you, full-on, no room for lies and games. Right now you just felt like a dumb girl going along with a devious boy charming you off your feet.

“Um…” you started, and suddenly, the salon bell chimes, and in walks some members of the orchestra, some kids that you knew by name. You wave at them, and they invite you to their table—you looked back at Jun.

“Do you mind if we go talk to them?” you asked softly. You were shocked to see him look a little embarrassed, more severely than before—he looked down at the floor, almost dejected.

“Oh, well, I was thinking if it was just us…” Jun looked into your eyes, and slowly started to stutter with his words, until he came to a stop: “... ah, forget it. Heh… I just… sorry. It’s up to you.”

“Why do you look like that?” you speak softly.

“Why do I look like—I can’t tell what I must look like right now, but it’s just… the face of someone who got turned down by someone they really admire.” He forced a smile. “I’m sorry, of course… you… wouldn’t think of me that way. I just really like your music, and thought you should know. I am down to help you in any way, though, which… you should be able to tell… I’m actually good at playing piano. Just tell me if you need anything.”

He smiles. And you were happy—he’d just affirmed everything you’d ever thought. Of course, like he said, he didn’t like you that way, it was just the music. Maybe it just touched him enough to delude himself into thinking he liked you, but… He didn’t.

You’d been led on by men a lot, so you think you know… But Jun wasn’t like that. Jun was genuine. But you liked the distance, still.

“You’re sick.” Seungkwan and you were working in a free practice room. Well, Seungkwan was working on his vocals, you were amateurly coaching him (because he didn’t dare ask for a professor to help yet). “Look at all these lyrics and all these song titles… You’re obsessed. And it’s not even hopeless, you might actually have a chance.”

You scoff. “He just likes me as an artist.”

“God, that’s what they all say until they elope.”

You slap his wrist with a ruler. “I am not getting eloped!”

“Wait… ‘looking at your eyes/ while I’m reading your pretty texts’... DO YOU TEXT HIM?” The question echoes through the empty room and you gingerly nod, kind of afraid of Seungkwan.

“Call him up,” Seungkwan says. “Right now. I don’t take no’s. Call him up immediately and say you’re down to collab.”

A minute or two of back and forth passed between you and him until you decided to grab your phone. This was what you loved so much about Seungkwan: he makes you step outside your comfort zone.But honestly right now if you embarrassed yourself in front of Jun you’d hate him. A lot.

Jun picked up on the second ring. You had given him your number the day you gave him the music files. He greets you cheerfully, “Ah, I was wondering when you would call.” You just stared at Seungkwan’s excited face, trying to not show any emotion or insight into what was happening. “...Should I not be so cocky?” Jun goes over the phone.

“Um,” you say, “Hey. Jun. I was thinking about what you offered, and, yeah, turns out I could actually have room for acoustics or keyboard in my new tracks…”

“And A BOYFRIEND!” Seungkwan yells out, and you immediately kick him with a swift rubber-toed sneaker.

“What was that? It was really muffled,” Jun says, and you could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Nothing,” you assured, “just… nothing.”

“If we’re going to do this, I’ve got conditions, though. I want to meet you,” Jun says. “I don’t want to work through emails—I want to see the creative process, and I want to work and fuel that process—you still want me on your album, right?”

You realized Jun talked a lot when he was excited, and as he rambled on, you look at Seungkwan to see him holding in his laughter. Ugh, whatever… Jun’s just a friend.

“And when you’re done with everything, you should come see me play. They call me Magic Fingers,” Jun says. It was clear he was saying it to be sexy, and you just sigh, not wanting to give in to the Jun fever.

After you’d said bye, Seungkwan spent the rest of the evening laughing and recalling parts of your conversation. “Magic fingers! Magic fingers—god. You kids keep me young…”

You stayed booked and busy at the end of the semester, working on your own projects while also helping Seungkwan and Seungcheol. With Jun’s tight schedules, you hadn’t been able to get together and do whatever you planned together—which, no, Seungkwan, was not happening. You considered maybe you’d work over the holidays, and plus, Jun had his school concert coming up where he wanted to be in the pianists’ showcase.

To be honest, Jun was the only reason you wanted to go back to posting songs for your own enjoyment on bandcamp again. He was the only reason you actually started believing you had fans. You really thought this day would never come, that someone might give you something to believe in about yourself.

One morning—a weekend, you wake up late and tread into the kitchen just wanting cereal. Instead, you found a well-dressed Junhui sitting there, tapping his fingers on the table, playing some symphony no one else could hear.

You almost fooled yourself into thinking he was there for you, but Jia comes in. Barging in all neon-lipped. “We’re going out, loser, did you just wake up?”

“Brunch,” Jun explained in just a single word, not saying more. As if it embarrassed him—you didn’t know if it’s because he’s talking to you, or if he’s shy about his relationship. You furrowed your eyebrows, unable to control your expression at all—Jia reached for his hand and intertwined it with hers, and you thought about how pretty her hands were, all manicured, fitting into his like that.

“Our moms made us,” Jia says, impossibly gloating so hard her face shined. “Jun’s mom is literally obsessed with us dating—she says our zodiacs are totally compatible."

Jun stood at her side nodding along, although he couldn’t articulate anything.

He didn’t need to. Jia may be bragging, but you knew enough. She was right, you weren’t. Not the right star sign, not the right element, not the right person. You never thought you had a chance, Jun was just your friend—and still, it hurt to have your friend choose your bully over you.

It’s a weekend. The two of them won’t be back until evening. And you, you had nothing to do except sit in your room listening to old lyric-less tunes you made until it maddened you.

So Jun and Jia are dating again, this time for real. You saw the couple kiss right in front of you, which you just stood by and watched so you didn’t look so aloof, but it didn’t matter what you did, Jia was always going to lay into you. She made a crack of a joke at your expense as they left together, and you didn’t know if Jun laughed but you imagined he might have. It’s not like he owes you anything, is it?

It was killing you, and to be honest, Seungcheol was right—you were worth something, at least your music was. And maybe… Junhui just wanted to use you for your talent.

When you check your text history, it’s always just Jun starting the conversations, sending emojis and stickers, acting forward about everything, asking you how your school work was going. You had always kept him at arm’s length, and still he managed to hurt you.

Maybe it was just how having a crush on the most wanted guy at school goes…

You finish 3 songs that day, which was a feat for you, and surprisingly, it’s all the ones you intended to feature Jun on.

Jun wanted to tell you he really missed you when he didn’t get to see you, and also, you did a good job writing the song for Seungcheol’s project. He also wanted to tell you he spent a total of 5 hours per day streaming your old songs on bandcamp, just because he felt like hearing your voice and you weren’t talking to him.

He thought at the end of the semester, well, I should just talk to her, whatever.

He wanted to congratulate you on the song with Seungcheol, anyway. The professor had been proud enough to share it with the students, and so he thought he should also congratulate you. Plus, he felt like no one ever got the song the way he did. What your songs made him feel was special.

He sat down next to you after class was over, just like the first time you talked, and said, “The collaboration with Seungcheol was so good. Everyone loves it.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean, I think I loved it the most out of anybody else ever,” he adds.

You were frowning, so he thought you were challenging him that he didn’t listen to it at all. So he started to hum:

“If I were a wildflower I could grow in the cracks of your front lawn/watch you smile for the girl you love/crush me under the soles of your boots…”

“It’s a love song,” Jun says. “It’s about complete devotion.” he listens to the tune for a few more seconds, before he can look up at you with eyes so full of what you assumed as pity. “The guy you wrote this for is really lucky.”

He doesn’t have a clue.

You snap your laptop closed, not sparing one glance at Jun—which he noticed and saw the hostility. “Yeah, well,” you say, “you wouldn’t have a clue about my devotion.”

Jun was frowning. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

You didn’t reply when he pressed for more from you, and you simply crossed over his lap with your sweatpant-clad legs and walked off on him.

He pulled you back by the arm. “Listen, if you think Seungcheol’s a better musician than me or you like him more than that and you’d rather collab with him, you can just say that. There’s no need to lead me on like you’re—”

“This isn’t about Seungcheol,” you say, “or it’s about Seungcheol for you. But not for me. You can leave, Jun, if that’s all you came here to talk about.”

“F—forget it.” Jun basically threw your shoulder off his grasp like he was shaking you off, although there was a softness to his voice like it was killing him being mean to you. With gritted teeth, you walked faster and faster out of his sight, cursing him. Oh, the things you were going to tell Seungkwan about him…

“We’re gone,” Chungha says with a laugh. “Don’t expect us back.”

“I wasn’t going to…�� you mumbled in your usual unsure tone, but with a smile so you didn’t look so sullen.

Chungha smiled back at you, or was about to, when— “Chungha! Let’s fucking go!”

“Alright!” She shot you half a glance, fixed her heels, and trodded out the door.

Sound of their pink heels clinking against the stair tiles. And then the entire building was quiet. All the students in the building had left for that one party.

Not to be pathetic, but you always end up regretting every decision you made.

Why would Jun ever even like you?

You lie on the bed thinking of what Seungcheol told you, the sentence going over your head over and over again until you feel like slapping yourself or taking a ice bath just to get it off your mind.

Yes, Seungcheol had experience in everything: being a boy, being in love, being a boy in love, and yes he could have actual insight, but also, what could he ever know about what Jun feels?

Seungcheol might just be saying it to be nice.

You decided to play one of your songs from that folder, FOR JUNHUI, just to see if the raw audio needed retouches, but halfway through listening to the whole album you realized two things: 1) you had no clue how to fix anything—not even just in your songs, but also in your life—and 2) you were crying.

It didn’t help that your own songs were a representation of your own fucked up, boring, messy life, so you kept listening and crying and listening and crying more. Until you were uglier than you had started.

Somewhere through the night—-maybe 40 minutes after Chungha and Jia had left—the doorbell rang.

You weren’t expecting anybody, but it was also possible that throughout your sadness you had blacked out and ordered a pizza without the present you knowing, so you opened the door.

You never expected to see Jun here. The Wen Junhui of your poetic lyrical metaphorized musings, manifesting himself on your doorstep with tousled hair and a leather jacket.

It’s cold out. That’s the first thing you think. He should have worn a puffer coat. You pull him into the apartment.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, sounding more fed up than you needed to be.

“Got bored at the party…” Was he slurring? You could understand him well but there was that tint of alcohol in his words.

“Jia isn’t here.”

“I know, I saw her at the party. I…” he laughed, and you see his flushed cheeks—definitely drunk. “I told her I’d bring her some booze and then ditched her. It’s whatever, I’m sure she’ll find some other guy… were you just lying in the dark here?” He reached for the light switch, turning it on. White light against your tear streaks.

Jun looked startled, like the sight shocked the liquor’s effects out of him. He gasped. “Are you crying?” Just when you were about to deny it, he stepped closer—or the closest he could get—and wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, you zap away from him at the speed of light.

“Why would you cry—”

“Jun! You don’t break into my house when no one’s around and proceed to wipe the tears off my face!”

There was a silence, which after a moment he broke with: “Well I didn’t break in, you let me in… But I can go if you want me to.”

“Please do.”

He was frowning. “For real?”

You nodded, taking a pathetic swipe against your cheek to get rid of remaining tear streaks. You really didn’t want to see him right now.

Jun turned to leave, only before he had opened the door completely, he looked over his shoulder. And shuts it. “Have you had dinner?”

“... not hungry,” you say.

“Well you still have to eat something. Let me make you black bean noodles, you know it’s a chinese staple—”

You were pulling at his sleeve before he could reach the kitchen. “You already know this apartment well, huh? From visiting her so much?” your tone was accusatory and you were quiet, but he heard you: there was little else to pay attention to in the cold dead night.

Jun sighed. “Why didn’t you call at all? Even if it wasn’t about music—you know you’re more interesting to me than just your music? I could just listen to you talk all day. Just sit somewhere and talk.”

“That’s…” you start, searching for words, “embarrassing.”

“I’m embarrassing?”

“You don’t want to be seen with me, Jun. It’s going to make everyone think… it’s gonna be embarrassing if someone assumes we’re… together.”

“Maybe I want people to think we’re together,” Jun blurts.

You know he didn’t mean to say it, because there was a red light of alarm in his eyes as he finished saying that.

“Yeah, but… you have Seungcheol sunbae, anyway, and—you like Seungcheol, don’t you?”

“No!”

“But you were working—”

“It’s just that,” you say. “Work.”

Jun sighed. “You know my whole persona is an act, right? I’m performing. I’m being this suave kind of guy that knows a lot about the world, but really, I just really want you to like me.”

“Why…”

“Not even I know that!” His head is in his hands. “I love your music. But you… I like you. Like-like you.”

You roll your eyes. “And you, don’t even know what I’m feeling.”

Jun considers this for a moment, and finally, softly, he asks: “who was that album for?” You lifted your face up to his, just to know what he was thinking. He’s not pulling a poker face, and his eyes were soft. But that big grin was nowhere in sight. “The unfinished songs that you gave me,” he continued, “The title of that folder—I mean, am I seeing things? If everything in that album is what you want to say…”

“It is,” you answered. “Yeah. It’s for you.” You felt like beating yourself up, because it’s so strange. It’s so weirdo freak of you to have written a full album on a guy you’d only ever talked to once, but you always assumed you were doing no harm in just using him as a muse… But now Jun might think different. He’s going to think you’re a stalker, that you—

He’s kissing you. Lips on lips. Tongue on lips.

You weren’t that big of a loser that you’d never been kissed, but you never actually felt this way being kissed before. The kind of kiss that knocks out every single thought from your head. You whimper, a sound from the back of your throat that easily escaped.

Jun pulled away. “Oh. I shouldn’t have—”

“I thought you were dating her,” you say. “I thought—”

“I thought you were dating Seungcheol. It’s… just so stupid… my mother made me go on a date. I was going to call you and explain, but then you just shut me off comple—”

You bring your lips to his again, both hands traveling up to his thick head of hair, and his own hands went to support you at the small of your back, the crop top you were wearing rising up so he could feel the vertebrae on your spine, inch by inch. He’s so close to you.

He asks which of those doors is your room. You grab him by the hand and drag him inside your horrible aspiring-music-producer-vibes room, which is, to say, messy, but he doesn’t mind. He pushes you down on the bed like he owned the entire apartment and kept kissing you, and you could feel his knees between yours, pushing and pushing.

You wanted to feel him, too, but all you could do was not objectify him and simply remove stray strands of hair from his forehead, staring up at him with utmost love. And he takes his patience unbuttoning each button from your blouse, and then pulling your sweatpants off you.

“That song you wrote for Seungcheol,” Jun says, “you don’t need to be under anybody’s feet. All you need to be is here. In my arms.” He kissed your neck, and you’re glad he’s too caught up in the feeling of your body that he doesn’t need an answer from you, but also, he’s right. Being in his arms just felt right. You’ve been daydreaming about him since forever, but you never thought you’d get to touch the thing you’ve been writing songs about. You reach out to touch him, and there he is, warm and real.

“You’re real,” you say between pants. “You’re fucking real.”

You feel his teeth on your breasts and his fingers on your clit.

You’re wet—you don’t know how you could get so wet when you’ve been wasting all the water in you through crying—and so is Jun’s mouth, as he swirls his tongue on your nipple, acting as if he were starving. It’s just body and body, hot, human. You’d never had a kiss you regretted until now.

Jun’s hungry for all of you and it shows. He knees your legs apart as his hands knead the skin of your thighs, and for a second just stares hungrily. You squeeze your eyes shut under his mercy—this whole night belonged to him now.

“Let’s see if you taste like cherries, baby.”

You feel his tongue on your clit and you ball up the covers in your fists, trying not to make any noises in case it scares him off.

“Let me hear you,” Jun panted into your flesh. “Don’t be shy.”

You simply make a mmmph sound, but once his tongue meets the spot in your clit that makes your whole body feel like it’s on fire, you scream. You had never felt this way before.

“Please!” you whimpered. “Fuck, Jun, please.” With every new height and sensation, you press your legs together, as if you wanted it to be over, and you could feel the sides of Jun’s head against your thighs, precious skin against skin.

Just when you thought you might release this burning feeling, which could leave you spasming and shaking, it stops, Jun’s tongue isn’t on you anymore, but his lips are on yours and you can taste yourself. It’s lewd, but you’d always wanted Jun this way. Loving you in the filthiest ways. For a long time you didn’t think he’d even want to talk to you, or touch you… but now he’s touching you like this.

“I wanna make you cum,” Jun says, “but not just with my tongue. I want us together.”

With his mouth attached to your neck and his hands kneading every part of you, you almost didn’t feel him pushing closer to you, crotch against clothed crotch, until you feel him against you, and he pulls away and stares, almost to ask for permission.

You pull him in and you’re crashing into each other, body against body, sweat against sweat. Your cores have met each other, and it’s so warm, a thousand sensations in one stroke of his hips, and you’re both letting go of the breaths you’ve been holding in, panting and moaning. You like his tired-out groans, there’s something so manish about them.

Once you felt you couldn’t keep the pace so regularly this way, you close your eyes and tense up, expecting it to be rough, but Jun brushes the hair out of your eyes, and you blinked. He’s looking down at you sweetly, and, with a soft kiss to your cheek, you feel him inside of you, slowly, unbearably hot and paced, the deepest part of you meeting the highest part of him, and you just mewl under him.

Jun compliments your eyes. Jun compliments your body. He calls every part of you pretty, up until the point where he couldn’t speak anymore because of the pleasure.

“Pretty,” he kept saying, “pretty, pretty…” His lips are on your ear when he releases, and you hear the worst of those moans, it sounds as if he were in pain. Like you put him in that pain, and it feels… good. What was making love but agreeing to hurt each other? You felt tired out and you feel the back of his spine with closed eyes and trailing fingertips… it’s real. It’s all real.

“My cherry,” Jun gasped. He kissed you, in a drunken daze, on the ear. You could feel his breaths and panting. “Everywhere the light touches, it shines...” He touched a spot on your forehead where the moonlight off the windows shone, and it made you feel all beautiful and made of light. Then he kisses your lips.

SMUT ENDS HER

You woke up in his arms. He was staring at you. You recoiled as soon as your eyes met—you weren’t expecting his to be open—and covered up your face with the blanket. “Ugly,” you say.

“Pretty.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead which was left uncovered. With one hand that was supporting your body from the back, he pulled you closer. “Breakfast?”

Just as you were asking that, something loud came from outside the door. “Y/N WE’RE BACK AND I HAVE A HANGOVER SO DON’T YOU DARE PLAY YOUR SHITTY MUSIC OUT LOUD.”

You pulled away from Jun. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I just slept with Jia’s crush—”

“I have a name, you know?” Jun didn’t even get to crack the full joke because you had flung his pants and belt at his face.

“Get dressed!” you hissed. “We have to sneak you out of here.”

“Why can’t we—”

“Jia. Will. Kill. Me.” You tiptoed to the door and peaked out, to find Chungha adminstering eyedrops to a very fatigued C. You glanced back at Jun. “We can’t do this alone. Get dressed, fast.” Without sparing Jun a glance, you waved your hands to get Chungha’s attention, and waved her over, opening the door just slightly ajar enough for Chungha to enter.

“Wait, I’m still changing—”

“Oh my god,” Chungha gasped.

Jun put his finger to his lips, eyes pleading. Extremely vulnerable, being that he’s only half-dressed right now.

You don’t even have a single inhibition in you to think.

Chungha closes the door behind her, treading lightly in your room. You felt relieved she discovered you, because you didn't want to keep this secret. At least now there's someone you could talk to about it…

Because Jun's here right now but you don’t want to count on it. You’re gonna need someone to talk to when he decides he’s more into girls like Jia and never someone like you.

“You were here all night with Wen Junhui?” Chungha hisses at you. “Woah, Y/n.”

You shushed her.

“How did you even manage to score Jun?” Chungha asked, and her tone was at first trying at keeping the whole ordeal clandestine, but slowly her voice raised and raised.

“Chungha!” Jia yelled from outside. “What are you doing in her room?”

“Just—She needs to borrow an outfit!” Chungha turned back at you. “Damn. So. Wen Junhui.”

“We need to sneak him out of here,” you whispered.

“Wait, why?”

“Yeah,” Jun added in, “why?”

“Because—” you say. “Because—Jia—she’ll make my life a living hell if she finds out I stole her dream man.”

You look over at Jun and he’s frowning.

“I’ll distract her,” Chungha volunteered. “No worries, guys. Just sneak him out while her back’s turned to the kitchen.”

Chungha exited the room, and you and Jun stared at each other—or, Jun was staring and you wanted to lose the eye contact.

“You’re afraid of her that much?” Jun asked.

“She’s just—you should go.”

“You must have been really mad at me when I chose her. I didn’t know.”

“You should go, Jun, and you shouldn’t apologize for nothing…”

“If I knew,” Jun says, “that she hurt you then I wouldn’t have…”

“Go,” you say.

“I’ll make this right.” Jun pulled you in so you were looking at his eyes, and they were dark and warm, like coffee. “We’re going to tell her—we’re going to tell everyone. When you’re ready.”

He pulled on the extra coat he had on the previous night, and then stood up. You promised him you’d walk him to the gate, so you did, both slowly inching out the apartment.

On the way down the stairs, Jun kept looking over at you, as if he wanted to say something, but honestly you didn’t know if you could take an honest conversation right now.

You didn’t regret the night, but when you thought more about it, it felt like Jun had just been using you, or was drunk, or just—it wouldn’t make sense that someone like Jun would be into something like you.

“Text me, okay?” Jun says, even though from his point of view you were just one side of your face that had disappeared behind the magnetic door.

He said it so softly and shyly that you felt touched. “I will,” you say. “I will, Jun.”

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fairyhaos · 10 months

Text

seventeen and try not to laugh

how seventeen will attempt to cope during a game of 'no laughing'

masterlist

seungcheol:

one of the most terrible. someone tells him not to laugh, then he gets the most overwhelming urges to laugh. like reverse psychology, you know? buries his head into the sofa cushions and tries his hardest to disassociate from the rest of the members bc even just looking at dokyeom's face will 100% make him snort with laughter. his face isn't visible the entire time. he has a crick in his neck from keeping his head in the cushions. his body is practically vibrating but it doesn't count as laughing if you can't hear or see him doing it

jeonghan:

has to bite his lips soooo hard to stop himself from bursting out into laughter at ostrich-coups with his head in the cushions. tries to make one of the younger members laugh first bc only then can he laugh too. steadfastly refuses to be the first one to lose but can bear losing after the others. tries to tickle the other members, eventually gives up bc they try and tickle him back. is often the one who initiates the game and gets everyone to play

joshua:

is always protesting that he has a naturally smiley face so they can't hold that against him. pretends that he's not going to play, but the minute the first person laughs he's pointing at them and yelling that they lost and you guys he's been playing with you for ages what do you mean?? has the most offended look when someone calls him out for smiling, goes on a whole rant and sulks bc of the discrimination, makes them completely forget that he was called out in the first place. manages to last so many hours using this method, eventually loses bc he forgets he's even playing

junhui:

makes so many members fail just by looking at his face. is pretty good at keeping in his own laughs, but apparently he's a Very Funny Guy or something bc this one time mingyu entered the kitchen while he was eating crisps and snorted so hard that he gave himself a sore throat. eventually cracks because jeonghan comes to him practically in tears to show him ostrich-coups who's shaking the whole sofa with his silent laughs

hoshi:

like shua, complains that he's naturally a smiley guy. tries to lie upside down on the sofa thinking it's gonna help him reduce his laughter, almost ends up losing three minutes into the game bc in fact all it did was just make it worse. ends up making little snuffly laughs fifteen minutes in. is always one of the first members to lose the game

wonwoo:

always says that he's an emotionally dried up husk of a person so he won't laugh. jeonghan tries to tickle him for that, and is extremely disappointed when wonwoo doesn't so much as flinch. tries to make the other members laugh so he's not the first to laugh (2), and is so awkward and wonwoo-ish that he succeeds 60% of the time. is one of the three people that can make jihoon break

woozi:

ends up laughing bc of hoshi's laughs. or bc of wonwoo's stupid puns. or just bc of dokyeom's entire being. is never the first member, but has definitely never survived the whole game before. was one tickled by jeonghan until he couldn't breathe, but managed to continue the game bc he didn't laugh once and instead was screaming the entire time. that one incident managed to take out five other members, and he doesn't know if he should be proud of that fact

minghao:

"there's nothing to laugh about in life, anyway. why would i laugh during a game?" attempts to zone out to win the game, is thrown over mingyu's shoulder to break his concentration so he's forced to consciously fight against laughter. once came in second place, but eventually lost bc dokyeom (who'd lost hours ago) popped his head into his room to ask something before promptly losing his balance and falling over in the middle of his doorway and hoshi, who was walking behind him, ended up tripping and falling on his immobile body while trying to get to the living room

mingyu:

everyone knows that he'll end up being one of the first four to burst into laughter. finds absolutely e v e r y t h i n g funny while they're playing. hansol hit his toe against the door one time while going to the toilet and he dissolved into a mess of incoherent giggles. makes it his mission to make the other members laugh too, either by randomly letting out shrieky laughter or doing stupid things. has a 50% success rate. is currently holding a competition w dokyeom for how many members they can get to laugh, and he's right now losing 17 to 22.

dokyeom:

laughs really easily. like, really really easily. is always one of the first ones to point out when shua is grinning, finds it really unfair when his hyung manages to wriggle out of it :(( even tho he laughs really easily he doesn't rlly mind bc he's also absolutely incredible at making the others laugh too. was once the first one to lose the game and managed to make all the others lose in one go when he wanted to make a smoothie and blended the blender without the lid on, milk and berries going everywhere and making him look like he'd murdered an ice cream man

seungkwan:

physically tries to tape his mouth shut every time, is stopped by jeonghan so it can be a 'fair game'. attempts to film seungcheol with his head in the cushions as blackmail material, can never go through with it bc he'll start cracking up. is so competitive for no apparent reason?? always ends up losing anyway but is determined to one day make yoon jeonghan and joshua hong lose before him bc it doesn't make sense that they can beat him in a game like this

vernon:

the only thing that can crack him up is seungkwan. just. anything that seungkwan does can get him to fail instantly. tries really hard to avoid even looking anywhere near seungkwan's direction bc this is a game that he can win okay so long as seungkwan doesn't do anything remotely funny. is an accidental master at making others laugh, in the sense that it's always cuz of his accidents n also cuz he does it by accident. the most memorable time was when he (somehow) managed to put his whole foot in their wooden coffee table. stared down at it for a whole ten seconds before going "oh". managed to make joshua and wonwoo dissolve into laughter, ultimately winning the game

chan:

has a 50/50 success rate in holding in his laughs. if he just sits in the corner and stares at the wall the entire time, he could totally disassociate so hard that he forgets the members are even there. but is also painfully set on getting the others to laugh bc of him, ends up making himself lose bc reality always hits him while he's in the middle of doing a skit or trying to crack a joke

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ktempestbradford · 1 year

Text

Ancient Egypt and Ostrich Feathers

Have a question for the Egyptologists and knowledgeable fans of Ancient Egypt about ostrich feathers.

(btw is there an Egyptologist Tumblr community? I follow @thatlittleegyptologist but don't know of any other accounts. HMU!)

When I was in Egypt last month I went to the Grand Egyptian Museum to take the very limited tour of the atrium they offer now. It... wasn't worth the money. Anywho, our tour guide did his best to make it seem valuable by talking a LOT about each thing he showed us.

Next to the colossal statue of Ramses II that dominates the atrium there's a table showing the emblems of royal iconography. The sun disk, the nemes headdress, cow horns, and a feather. He asks us if we know what that last one is and I or someone says it's the feather of Ma'at. Correct! Do we know what bird it comes from? The ostrich, someone else says. Why did they choose ostrich feathers for Ma'at and also certain crowns?

On this trip I had gone to the Nubian museum and thus had just seen several pieces of art from pre-historical peoples that utilized ostrich eggs, including a famous one that had three pyramids etched into it along with some animals. So I said something like: The ostrich has been an important animal even before the pharaohs. They relied on it for food and made art with the eggs. The tour guide (Mark) said: That's an awfully materialistic view. No, that's not why.

Now... I know I'm not an expert even though I know a lot about ancient Egypt. But "a materialistic view"? Like somehow it's not enough that ostriches provided food and probably were used in other, important ways? Why do you think Hathor is represented as a cow and there are cow horns incorporated in crowns? Because they look cool? wtf?

Mark then goes on to tell this story. Back in the dawn of civilization in Egypt the Egyptian man didn't have much to do during the day. (eyebrow raise) So he started collecting feathers from all the birds that flew above him in the sky. (...um... wait...) He would collect and then count the barbules and do you know what he discovered? Only the ostrich had the same number of them on both sides. That's why this is the feather of balance and justice.

Friends. I have never wanted to scream SHENANIGANS or at least CITE YOUR SOURCES so much in my life. Like... what?

Leaving aside the implication that ostriches were somehow flying above ancient Egyptians or that there was some point where men didn't have a dang thing to do all day but count the little hairs on feathers, I feel like this explanation is complete hooey. I mean, it could be that all or some of an ostrich's feathers have the same amount of barbules on either side of the middle bit. You might even be able to convince me that this isn't true for any other bird that someone from the Nile valley 6,000+ years ago had access to. But I'm going to need a ton of supporting evidence that this is the sole reason why the feather of Ma'at is an ostrich feather and not for the "materialistic" reasons I cited.

Also, I'm sorry, but I'm real sure predynastic Nile valley dwellers were far more concerned about food and shelter than coming up with complex reasons for using a certain kind of feather to represent a metaphysical thing.

However, I could be wrong! So I'm asking: is there evidence for Mark's version of events? Is this, you know, written somewhere in a papyrus or on a temple wall or another place? I would honestly love to read any papers on this subject, whatever the background on it.

As to the Grand Egyptian Museum, I really hope that whoever they hire to give tours when the whole thing opens are better at this than Mark. I wasn't impressed with his tour overall and eventually gave up listening to him once I saw that there was a gelato place open for business inside.

#Egyptology #Egyptologists #Calling for Egyptologists!#Egypt #Ancient Egypt #I need to know if Mark is right #okay kay what I really want to know is that mark is wrong

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overstuffednpadded · 10 months

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Ok but hear me out- pregnancy cravings messing up someone’s digestive system to the point where they need diapers

I wish I knew how to properly respond to this ask besides burying my head in the ground like an ostrich and screaming into the dirt...

Okay but like....craving foods of all types from one moment to the other? First savory and then sweet and then that one food that they hated yesterday but now cant live without? All of that causing even more of a ruckus in their stomach, adding more weight to their already heavy belly. They havent gone in days, they feel overdue, when, without any warning, the muscles in their bottom loosen and large mound of poop is pushed into their pants. They think that maybe it's a one-time thing but then whoops, it happens again 2 days later. This time they did feel it but barely had time to waddle to the bathroom before they were pushing into their pants. Around the third time this happens (or fifth, possibly sixth but who's counting) they think it they might have to invest in diapers a little earlier expected.

#🧡asking🧡#omutsu #messing #scat kink #preg k!nk #okay so maybe i did have something to say about this😂#im still shy about it!

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 2 years

Text

Zuko cannot be torn away from his search from the Avatar...until his best friend gets ill and his true feelings come out.

You’d known Zuko since you were children and you got along because you were both similar. Rich kids from important families but neither of you were particularly good at fire bending or showed much promise. You were both the disappointment of the family and pretty much each other’s only friends. So when Zuko was banished it was a no-brainer. Even if he wasn’t your best friend the fact you were pretty much in love with the Prince would’ve made the decision for you. So you decided to go with him and stowed away on his ship but honestly it was probably a week before your parents noticed you were missing. Iroh warned you the journey would be dangerous and you’d potentially never go home but you didn’t really care about that.

Secretly Iroh was happy you’d come along. You were Zuko’s best friend and the only one who was able to make him smile during the first month of his banishment. As much as Zuko was now pretending to be hard and cold you were his Achilles’ heel. Zuko seemed to melt around you and you were rather oblivious which made the whole thing rather cute. However as you all became outlaws running from Azula your situation got direr and direr until Zuko announced you were leaving Iroh. Iroh could tell you felt guilty by the way you couldn’t meet his eye for more than a few seconds but he told you it was okay. Zuko needed you more than he did.

So that was how you found yourself alone with Zuko, riding an ostrich horse as you hunted the Avatar while trying to avoid his sister and anyone else who might want to kill you. You’d been riding for days at this point and you were tired and sore. To make things worse you also had a cold. You figured it was for following Zuko out into the middle of a rainstorm and tried to power through but each day was getting worse. The constant swaying of the ostrich horse made the world spin and when you broke down into a coughing fit Zuko slowed the mount. "Y/n are you okay?". You couldn’t speak for a while, busy trying to breathe but when you could you nodded "of course I am". Zuko frowned but kept going. He knew you weren’t well but it was of the utmost importance he caught up with the Avatar,

So you pressed on, you didn’t mention to Zuko how you were struggling to keep your eyes open or how you felt your strength failing. After a few hours of rest Zuko asked if you were really well enough to keep going. You didn’t have much choice so you told him you were and started riding at dawn. You lasted two hours before passing out.

Zuko felt a breeze behind him and was about to ask what was going on when you slipped off the ostrich horse. Zuko cried out your name and tried to grab you. The result was he got pulled off the horse by gravity and tumbled onto the floor with you. “Y/n!” he yelled shaking your shoulders. Your eyes were closed and you weren’t responding. Zuko was madder at himself than he’d ever been. "Y/n! Y/n! Are you okay? Y/n wake up!" Zuko cried. You didn’t respond and he held your body rightly, panic spiralling in his brain. He didn’t think you’d hit the ground any harder than him and he couldn’t see any cuts or gashes on you from the fall. "Y/n!" Zuko screamed and you made a noise. It was only a grunt of recognition but it was enough. Relief swept through Zuko. You were alive, atleast for now. He’d make sure you stayed that way. Zuko gently picked you up and placed you on the horse in front before he got on behind you. He held an arm around you and snapped the reigns. He knew there was a settlement about 8 hours away and figured if he rode none stop he could get there quicker. "Don’t worry y/n, I'll make up for all of this" Zuko muttered.

When you finally reached the town Zuko ignored the tired ostrich horse’s moans and forced her down the main street "does this town have a doctor?" he asked. The people on the street just stared and his temper flared "are you deaf? Answer my question!"."Yes there’s Dr Gohen, she lives on the west side of town next to the grocers" one woman replied. Zuki groaned, of course he was on the east side. He snapped the reigns leaving the villagers in a dust cloud.

Zuko found the grocers and identified the doctor’s house beside it. He dismounted and carried you inside kicking the door open with his foot. "I need the doctor" he called "now". A woman appeared who Zuko assumed was Dr Gohen. She moved immediately to help you and Zuko was reassured. "Place her here" she said clearing a bed and Zuko lay you down anxiously "she was ill a few days back...I thought it was just a cold but then she collapsed earlier today and I couldn’t wake her up". The doctor nodded touching your forehead "she hasn't regained consciousness once?". Zuko paused "not properly, she’s been muttering and speaking in her sleep but nothing coherent, I worried the fall maybe harmed her. The woman opened your eyelids and examined the pupils "she doesn’t have concussion, I think it's just exhaustion from a bad flu that's going around". Zuko frowned "can you heal her?". "It's not about healing but letting her recover. I can give her remedies to take away her temperature and help her to rest but she needs time to get better. You've obviously been travelling too hard the both of you. Once the fever has broken she should wake but if you leave straight after that it will only happen again. You need to let your...friend" the doctor said pausing "rest, if she’s more important then wherever your destination is". "She is" Zuko nodded and the woman nodded approvingly "then I'll get to work". It was only afterwards it dawned on Zuko he’d put you before his honour and throne...he was surprised at how comfortable he was with that and thought you might be the only thing in the whole world he cared about more. That thought made him blush but he refused to acknowledge why and turned back to the doctor.

1 day later You shot awake gasping for breath. The last thing you remembered was falling and now you were in a dark room...in a bed with a blanket. "Y/n?" a voice asked and you paused "Zuko?". A flame appeared and Zuko’s worried face popped into view "hold on let me light the torch". You heard Zuko fiddling around before light filled the darkness. You were in some small room, a makeshift doctor’s office by the looks of it. Zuko was seated in a chair beside your bed and you realised he’d been sleeping there. "What happened?" you asked. "You collapsed" Zuko told you "it was my fault I kept pushing us to keep going". You went to disagree but Zuko hurried on "so I brought you here and the doctor has been trying to bring your temperature down since yesterday. How are you feeling?". Zuko moved closer to examine your face and you only now realised you were very sweaty. Your shirt clung to you and you could feel how wet your hair was against your neck. You were sure you smelled awful and looked even worst. So you moved away and tried to fix your hair. "I feel fine" you shrugged and Zuko raised an eyebrow "really?". You nodded "yeah. When do you want to leave? First thing in the morning". "Not happening” Zuko shook his head "Doctor Gohen said you needed rest otherwise you'll get ill again so we’ll stay right here until you're 100% better!". "But Azula..." you started and Zuko shook his head "she won’t find us here and even if she did...well I'd take that risk then you getting ill again. We got lucky y/n, the doctor was nearby. If we’d been 5 days away or in the middle of nowhere...well it's not a good scenario". Zuko’s words and how much he wanted to assure your health made your heart flutter. When you looked up you realised Zuko was looking away and blushed slightly. "Well okay if you’re sure?" you asked. Zuko nodded meeting your eyes again "I am, now are you hungry? If so I can wake Gohen". You shook your head "I'm fine". "Then let's go back to sleep, morning will be here soon". You nodded and laid back down, your heart still beating fast and your cheeks still flushed which had nothing to do with the fever.

You woke up the following morning to find Zuko awake and sorting through your meagre possessions. He was counting your coins nervously and you frowned. He was clearly worried but Zuko was someone you had to let come to you with his worries. If you ever tried to force it he’d just shrivel up. So you made a show of waking up giving Zuko time to hide everything. "Y/n" he said jumping up "Dr Gohen she's awake!". A woman hustled into the room and she looked at you making a noise. "Still pale..." she placed a hand in your forehead and nodded "but the fever’s broke so that's good, how are you feeling?". "Good...well I feel like I could really use a bath but other than that I'm fine!" you lied. The woman nodded her head "mhh hmm well we can do a bath, you come and help" she cried at Zuko who paused "me?". "Yes two hands are stronger than one, you can help me carry the water". Even in your ill state the look on Zuko’s face at the idea of doing menial labour and the fact the Prince was running you a bath made you smirk.

So Zuko carried buckets to a tub from the well and heated them slightly in his hand for you. The doctor seemed to sense this and nodded "I'll leave you go it. Go grab her when she’s ready and stay near in case she needs your assistance". "Me but I..." Zuko blushed "with her bath?". The woman raised an eyebrow "i’m sure your friend would prefer you over a stranger...now stop being bashful and go help her, she might need help walking here". Zuko approached your room and knocked "you ready y/n?". You nodded and Zuko came closer "do you need help getting up?". "No I can do it" you said adamantly and stood up. Zuko saw the strain of your hands as you clutched the bed and how you wavered but you took one step at a time until you reached the bathroom. "Do you...need any help?" Zuko asked blushing and you blushed too "no I'll be fine". Zuko nodded "okay call if you need me" and left.

You locked the door and slumped against it. You were exhausted from the walk and took a few minutes for the room to stop spinning. Then you made your way unsteadily to the bath and climbed inside. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking but the warmth was nice. You realised Zuko must've done this and smiled. When you got out of the bath your legs would barely support you, worrying you. You knew you’d have to ask Zuko for help so you used your remaining strength to drag clean clothes over your head and legs and leant on the wall. "Zuko..." you called "I don’t feel so good can you help me get back to my room". "Of course are you...are you ready for me to come in?" he asked clearly hesitant. You called yes and Zuko cautiously opened the door, eyes on the floor until he realised it was safe. "What's wrong?" he asked and you shrugged "i just feel a bit faint and walking is hard, can i use your arm?". Zuko nodded and held it out to you. You gripped it tightly and took a step forward. Your knees began to shake and you felt the room behind you spin. You went to call to Zuko but he’d already predicted what you needed. "Y/n" he cried and he wrapped an arm around you. Your legs gave out and he picked you up easily bundling you to his chest. "It’s okay don’t worry" he told you and rushed you back to bed. He placed you down carefully and called for the doctor scared. She ran in and Zuko explained what had happened. He covered you in blankets as you couldn’t seem to stop shaking and the doctor smiled "this is my fault...the poor girl is starving that's why she’s feeling faint. I will bring her some soup but make sure she eats it slowly". Zuko said he would and waited anxiously for the food. "Thank you...for helping me" you said softly and Zuko nodded "no problem". Dr Gohen appeared with two bowls making Zuko frowned "I can see she's not the only one who’s skipped meals" was all she said and pressed the bowl into Zuko’s hands. Zuko went to argue when he remembered the purse and sighed. He sat down next to your bed and watched to make sure you were eating slowly and began eating his own.

After the soup you were tired so you napped. Zuko was nervous you would never get better but when woke up a few hours later you had your colouring back and the shaking had stopped. "I feel so much better" you cried before sneezing. Zuko smiled "your fever and shakes have gone but you’ve still got a cold y/n, don’t even get ideas of going anywhere". You rolled your eyes but were secretly relieved.

You spent most of your time in and out of sleep and next woke up in the middle of the night. Your throat was dry and so you tried to grab some water from the jug but knocked your cup on the floor. Zuko jumped up from his chair beside you at the sound and his eyes shot around "what’s wrong? Are you okay?". "I'm fine I just knocked the cup" you explained and Zuko nodded. "Okay...good, are you feeling okay?". You nodded "yeah...just it's a bit cold". Zuko nodded. He walked over to the fire and fire bent. "Zuko" you scolded but he just smirked "they won’t know” and returned to his chair. He passed you his blanket and you sighed "aren’t you cold?". "I'm fine" he told you but when you touched his fingers they were ice cold "Zuko not you're not you're freezing!". Zuko shrugged "so? You're cold too". You sighed "yes but you're worse probably because you've been on that chair for days...why don’t we share?". Zuko blinked "I'm not taking the bed from you". "No not like that! At the same time, it's big enough for both of us and that way we’ll both be warmer. Zuko blushed "y/n...the bed isn’t big". "still...I'm freezing and I know you give off good body heat so come here". Zuko chuckled "you know that's the most assertive I've ever heard you". He stood up and came closer. You moved to one side and Zuko laid down. It was a small squeeze but it was warmer. Zuko arranged the blankets over you both and you laid together. When Zuko thought you were asleep he shifted you fully onto his chest and wrapped the blankets around you tighter. He placed his arms on top of the quilt further warming you. The cold didn’t bother either of you the rest of the night

A few hours later the door opened and Zuko clutched you tighter. He saw it was the doctor and paused. He supposed he should’ve been embarrassed to be caught in bed with you like this but he actually didn’t care. Instead he just covered you up and looked at her. "What's wrong?" he asked and she whispered "there’s a Fire Nation tank coming this way. There’s a decoy town in their way but they're coming and if they find us...we could all suffer". Zuko blinked, it had to be Azula. "I came to you because I know you're skilled. I've seen the swords and I have my suspicions about who you are". Zuko blinked as her eyes went to his scar. "I healed your friend, can you save us? Or atleast go scout and tell us if they're coming close so we know to evacuate?". Zuko nodded "of course. I'll leave right away. Don’t tell y/n or she’ll try and follow me. You can’t let that happen". The doctor nodded "I won’t let anything happen to her". Zuko nodded "then we have a deal".

You woke up a few hours later to find Zuko gone which was odd. The sun was shining brightly but you couldn’t hear a noise in the house or even the town. You got up and were pleased you felt a lot stronger. You made your way slowly to the door and pressed your ear to it. Nothing.

Confused you opened it slowly and finally heard some soft noises. You followed them and paused outside an open door. "He’s the prince of the Fire Nation! What do you think drove them here?" one of the nurses cried in a loud whisper. "We’re not certain" Doctor Gohen said and the nurse laughed "know anyone with those burns? Plus the bath water was lukewarm when we cleared it! He’s from the fire nation. If we help them find him or even hand over the girl they might leave us alone". "There's no guarantee!". "Well we can’t just do nothing" the other cried and you rushed away. You had to get away. You packed your things, taking some clean clothes and medicine before you went to the window. You opened it slowly and hopped out without making a sound. The streets were deserted but you headed to the area of the stables. Sure enough your ostrich horse was there and she recognises you. You quietly saddled her and rode out of town. You followed some fresh tracks in the correct direction and hoped to see Zuko.

As you got close to the decoy town you heard noises and hid your horse, proceeding on foot. You stuck to the shadows and ran straight into Zuko. He jumped and quickly pulled you down into a hiding place. "Y/n what are you...". "The nurses know who we are and were debating turning us over to Azula. We have to leave". Zuko sighed "dammit she’s already here". You looked around nervously and Zuko noticed "not here here, on the other side of town. The Avatar is also here. I'm hoping he'll distract her enough for us to get away. I'm gonna go lead them to one another. You stay here and I'll come get you when it’s time to go. You frowned "no way! I'm coming too!". Zuko shook his head "no y/n. You're not well. You couldn’t walk to the bathroom yesterday without feeling faint. Your firebending won’t be strong enough and Azula will notice that and focus on you. You know how she exploits weakness, we can’t have you getting any more hurt so stay here, please?". You sighed "Zuko...". "Y/n please” he said taking your hand "for me?". You blushed surprised and Zuko also had a blush on his cheeks but he didn’t drop your hand or look away. "Okay" you nodded and his shoulders relaxed in relief "I'll be back soon. Stay here" and he disappeared.

You stayed with the horse and soon heard the fighting. The floor began to shake and you heard houses collapse. You could hear yelling and grunting that was either Zuko or Azula. In case it was the former you crept out of your hiding place and approached the noise.

When you got there Azula was being backed into a corner by Zuko and team Avatar. Azula losing and Zuko working with the Avatar were both such strange sights you forgot to keep yourself hidden. You were behind Azula and Iroh spotted you. His gaze softened and he smiled “y/n...” before he could stop himself. Zuko rushed forwards but that was all the distraction Azula needed. She shot a bolt of lightning right at you and you felt a funny sensation go up and down your arms. You heard someone yelling your name and then some more shouting. You felt someone grab you and hold you in their arms and then everything went black. When you eventually regained consciousness you heard raised voices once again. This time it was a very recognisable angry voice.

Zuko.

"If you hadn't revealed her presence Azula wouldn’t have shot her! Why did you just call out her name like that? You're supposed to be a wise old man". "I've admitted it was a mistake and apologised. I will do both again when y/n wakes up which we can be assured she will. What more can I do? I cannot trade places with her no matter how much we both want me to". "I do want that, it should’ve been you" Zuko agreed and silence fell.

You heard the words but didn’t really process them as you felt fuzzy. You blinked your eyes open and tried to sit up but your chest felt heavy. "Y/n!" Zuko gasped suddenly "you're awake, wait don’t sit up". You blinked as Zuko’s face came into view and he gently eased you back down "hey don’t try and move okay. You're safe, you're okay". You blinked "Zuko?". "I'm right here" he told you and you felt him grip your hand "how do you feel?". You blinked "fuzzy...my chest feels funny". Zuko nodded "we gave you some pain medication so that's the dizziness and your chest is heavily bandaged which is what the weight is. Are you thirsty?". You nodded, your mouth felt all crisp and dry. Zuko pressed a cup to your lips and you drank a little bit. "Are you hungry?". You shook your head and Zuko nodded "okay". "She should try and eat something" Iroh said and Zuko glared "I know but if she doesn’t want to right this second then she doesn’t have to!". Iroh shrunk away and you frowned, more of your senses coming back to you. "Azula....she shot me right?" you asked. Zuko nodded "yes with lightning. It was bad but it looked worse than it was, you'll get a scar but you should make a full recovery". "Where are we?" you asked and Zuko explained a house near the town but not so close they’d find you.

Iroh had left at this point to get water and Zuko sighed "I'm just so glad you're okay. Two near-death experiences in one week is far too much y/n". You chuckled "really? I thought they made things more exciting that’s why I kept doing them!". Zuko shook his head but his smile soon vanished "I don’t blame you for either. It was my fault the first time and my uncle’s this time. We must keep getting you injured and it sucks...what if one more time it's too much and we lose you for good. I'd never forgive myself or him". You frowned "you know it wasn’t either of your faults don’t you?". Zuko smiled badly "I knew you’d say that but it was y/n".

You sighed unhappily, whenever Zuko was in one of these moods there was no reasoning with him. He’d just sit in a ball of self-hatred and brood. Zuko noticed your expression and frowned "it is y/n. You can’t convince me otherwise". "Trust me I know and that's the problem...I hate hearing you talk about yourself in this way. Berating yourself for things you had no control over...it’s painful". Zuko looked at you confused "but I'm just being honest. I can’t just lie and tell myself I've done nothing wrong when I have". "Yes but you disproportionately scold yourself. You view events in a skewed light and never see the other side...sometimes it’s just so frustrating! If only you could see yourself how I see you, how we all see you...". Zuko stared at you "and how do you see me?" he asked not taking his eyes from you. You blushed slightly but didn’t look away either. "When I looked at you I see Zuko. My oldest friend who has been through so much pain and suffering. I see the toll it's taken on you but I also see the good there in your eyes. I see a good young man who questioned himself because others constantly did. I see a caring person who was punished for his best quality. I see someone I respect and admire who I do anything to protect...I see a pretty amazing guy" you smiled and Zuko stared at you. "What about all my faults? My temper, my stupidity and weak bending? My scar?". You shook your head "those aren’t your qualities they're just opinions you have of yourself. They don’t define you and they're not what I see". Zuko carried on staring at you for a while longer before he swallowed "I...I wish I was the man you see me as. You deserve someone like that". "I deserve and want you" you said finally biting the bullet "exactly as you are". Zuko jolted as you spoke and he frowned "wait do you mean...". "I like you" you said simply "you Zuko". Zuko blushed "I...is the medication affecting you? Do you still feel loopy?". "No...just rather nervous and apprehensive of your response. I mean I did just confess my feelings to you and you asked if I was loopy..." you started when Zuko cut you off with a kiss.

"I wasn’t rejecting you, more making absolute sure before I did that" Zuko told you "I like you too y/n. These last few days made me realise how much. When you were lifeless in my arms because of me however indirectly...I knew if you died I'd never forgive myself. That’s why I can’t let myself off for this or uncle. You matter too much to me". You bundled Zuko closer and he pressed himself against you. “You matter to me too” you told him and felt Zuko sighed in relief to hear someone tell him that.

You never stopped telling him that for the rest of your happy lives together.

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