#what there is of it i wish i was brave and patient enough to film myself doing it

[myfriendtheurbanlegend]

Charon's Obol Process

The thing with portraits that I learned the hard way is that you have to get a "read" of it before you start laying tones down. I do this by having a zoomed out version of the ref photo so I can see what stands out. Otherwise, it's very easy to get carried away and pore over the smallest details over getting the likeness right. I think I got it but something nags me as always. Perhaps it will pass. Jim Caviezel is not very forgiving in that regard. I don't think I have ever got him truly right but this is definitely better than last time.

I don't usually do thumbnails or palettes but it helped to do a little sketch with the colors I would like to see. I wanted green but what I had in mind was a traditional artist on instagram who laid a deep green as a foundation for a skin tone, and through the application of other layers he achieved a very rich, realistic skin tone. I don't think I have the artistic balls to start with green yet.

The background is me going nuts with rectangular and circular selections, gradients and custom eraser brushes. Paintstorm has a neat little feature where you can make a brush an eraser instantly.

It could probably use some improvement but if I stare at my paintings too long I go insane so I just finish them as soon as I can.

The gif I made with Photopea.

[wasjustred]

Winter Weather Warning - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: A blizzard comes barreling through the area and you find yourself stranded———in Larissa’s quarters.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smut – fingering and cunnilingus (reader receiving); Larissa gets an orgasm

Word Count: ~6.3k (oops)

Author’s Note: Whaaat? A fic? From me? Finally?? I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks to all you lovely folk who’ve been so patient with me; there’s been a lot going on in my life so I’m very appreciative of you all. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged! ♡ ﹠. a special thank you to my beta readers @sapphicsbeloved and @zephyr-is-tired ——— sending you many kisses and finger waggles for your help! 😙🥰 ╱ AO3

You try not to begrudge the snow for falling when and where it will. It’s pretty, you have to admit: soft, and flurried, sweeping over the stone grounds of Nevermore without prejudice. You peer out from your window and watch scattered groups of students chase after each other gleefully, faces turned up toward the sky like small purple sunflowers in their school uniforms, arms outstretched and reaching. The low angle of the sun against the trees suggests dusk will fall soon, just enough light still to cast long, excitable shadows across the ground.

A smile prods at your lips as you turn away from the window and further into your classroom with the intention of setting up for your last class of the day. You’d originally planned to guide them through a review period for an exam next week, but with the state of the sky and the weekend finally here, you decide a film might instead be just what everyone needs; you can afford to push the exam back another day, and really, they’ll be gunning for extra time where they can get it anyway. You know your students well enough.

When the kids begin filing in, you delegate tasks without explanation, the room abuzz as you instruct one student to close the blinds and a few others to adjust the desks just so. You catch a glimpse of the world down below before the windows cover up: Steady flurries still, but nothing that worries you. The kids’ thrill at spending the period in relaxation when you reveal your plan to them is enough to distract from any further thoughts on the weather, anyhow.

The hour passes swiftly as you sit in the back grading papers, every so often glancing up to take stock of the room. Everyone files out just as fast at the sound of the bell and calls out wishes for a good weekend while you’re left to rearrange the room back into its original state. You take care of the desks first, pack your own items up, decide to leave the windows for Monday since it’s dark out by now, no longer any ribbons of light sneaking through the cracks where the blinds don’t quite meet glass. A nice bottle of wine, a fire, maybe a few candles and a good book… the night is promising, and you run through a mental checklist of how many comfort items and practices you can employ as you wander down to the front entrance, bundled up tightly in your coat to brave the cold.

But when you reach the landing of the long staircase, the sight that greets you is not promising in the slightest: the outer floodlights cast a muted glow over what had been a harmless shower of snow, now furious gusts of heavy flakes collecting faster than your brain can entertain. There has to be at least a couple inches out there already, and the realization that you’ll have to navigate through the winding, hilly roads of Vermont in the middle of this elicits a groan. The treeline is hardly visible amidst the dark and the snow, and the roads are likely no better off: the town tends to skirt right around Nevermore when salting the streets. This drive’ll be a perilous one at best.

“Absolutely not.” The sound of Larissa’s disapproval startles you into a sharp and over-dramatic gasp, every muscle of yours tensing at once when her voice comes from just behind you. 

“Jesus, you scared me! ‘Absolutely not’ what?” You turn to her with features marred by confusion - once the surprise has melted away - and tilt your head up, taking a small step back to balance yourself when you realize how close she is. She looms over you in a way only she can: regal and overwhelming–––yet cordial all the same, offset by the soft floralness of her perfume. The fact that she’d reached you there without a sound would likely be unsettling if it were anyone else. With her it’s just… attractive, the slyness of it all. The mischievous grin she bares in response to how you jump doesn’t help.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m letting you drive in that.” This elicits an incredulous scoff as you peer up at her, arms lifting at your sides like a pair of very exasperated, very amused wings.

“Letting me? What am I supposed to do? Break my back sleeping on the floor of the library? No thanks.”

“Don’t be silly,” Larissa tsks, pressing her lips together in an all too familiar demonstration of thought. She’s quick with her next words, though, and something tells you there wasn’t much thought to be given at all. “You’ll stay with me.”

The firmness with which she says this, the matter-of-fact tone that has always so easily slid off her tongue, leaves no room for discussion. You gape at her but Larissa’s already swiveling on her heel and walking in the direction of her office as though it’s been decided once and for all, no questions asked. She throws a crooked finger over her shoulder and gestures for you to follow, the sound of her heels now echoing through the mostly-empty halls.

You wonder, frivolously, how in the hell you didn’t hear her the first time around.

You rush after her with quick steps in an effort to keep up; Larissa’s long, unhesitating strides carry her farther and faster than you can move without some effort. The view of her backside, however, is not one that merits complaint. You follow the curve of it up until you come upon a landing you’re not familiar with, nearly knocking into Larissa when she halts abruptly and turns towards you for the first time since this little journey began. She looks almost unsure of herself now, eyes flitting about rather than meeting yours. It’s one thing, you know, to flirt in passing; to brush arms when you’re both chaperoning students in Jericho; to trade amused, knowing glances across faculty meetings. But it’s another to invite you into her sanctuary, a decisive and loaded crossing of one of the last lines between the two of you.

“If you’d prefer, I believe there’s an empty dorm room I can have made up for you. It’d be no problem.” She finally looks down at you long enough for you to read what’s going on behind that mask of hers, typically pristine and perhaps a touch righteous: she’s trying to give you an out, trying to relinquish control for a second before she commandeers your night, and she’s worried she’s already gone too far by bringing you up here in the first place.

But you’re not going to say no to a night at Larissa’s side, especially when the potential for a warm fire and a glass of wine or two is so high.

Especially when it’s her asking.

“No, it’s alright. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she’s quick to blurt out, shaking her head. “I simply wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, that’s all.”

With that, Larissa turns again and begins the ascent to what you assume is her hall–––until you’ve reached another landing with only one door, and she pushes it open to reveal an entire apartment all her own. It’s very her, this place: Warm, shining, elegant. The living room is awash with low, simmering lights, furnished with a mix of dark leather and velour, a towering bookcase taking up the whole of one of the far walls with an accompanying reading nook. She walks you further into the threshold and eases the door closed behind you, hovering silently as you take the space in. There are a few framed art pieces that you promise yourself you’ll review more thoroughly later on, scattered vases of flowers and various, high-hanging mirrors.

What truly draws your attention, however, are the photos strategically lining the walls, clearly taken at various points in Larissa’s life: A small platinum-blonde girl carefully posed before a Christmas tree with two very proper looking hounds on either side of her, all very regal and staged except for the wide, nose-crinkling grin on the girl’s face; a beach trip with the same girl, slightly older now, arm thrown over her face as she squints against the sun and into the camera - and a pair of kids that look to be around her age chase each other in the background; teenage Larissa suited up and on horseback, smiling proudly as a judge strings a blue ribbon around the horse’s halter; graduation photos from Nevermore; a trip to the Scottish Highlands, it looks like, a twenty-something Larissa soaked to the bone but grinning out at the miles and miles of luscious greens like she couldn’t be bothered less by the weather. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of her.

Eventually Larissa brushes behind you, laying a hand at your waist in passing as she toes off her heels and begins the process of lighting the fireplace.

Her touch leaves an emphatic tingle in its wake.

“I didn’t think my wall was that particularly exciting,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder at you. You duck your head and turn from the wall, following her lead as you slip out of your shoes and place them next to her own.

“I always like to see what people were like before I knew them. It’s intimate.” Larissa’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly before she returns her attention to the fire, adjusting the logs one last time and replacing the latch on the brass screen.

“What do they tell you, those pictures?” She wipes her hands and comes to rest against the edge of a couch, gazing at you as you shift on your feet and consider her question. Her eyes remain soft, but there’s something else lurking there behind the blue now: Curiosity? Interest? Desire, even? You can’t read it for sure, so you clear your throat and move back to the photographs on her wall, crossing your arms over yourself.

“Well, .. this one,” you start, gesturing towards the Christmas tree, “screams rich.” Larissa snorts loudly and tilts her head in a way that says you’re not wrong. “Probably an only child - at least at the time, otherwise there’d be other kids with you.” Her smile gives nothing away this time, but you charge ahead, brushing your fingers against the frame that holds the beach between its borders.

“This isn’t an American beach, that much I know.” You choose not to elaborate, allowing your ‘Americanness’ to speak for itself. “But I can’t tell if you grew up going there or if it was a special vacation, maybe visiting family… ?” you trail off as your gaze drifts over to her questioningly. She just shrugs, and you click your teeth in mock disapproval before moving on.

“You look happy here,” you observe, allowing your hand to drift over the photo of Larissa in her English riding gear. “Unforced. You enjoyed competing, maybe preferred your horse to people.” This one might be an unfair deduction, supplemented by your understanding of how cruel kids can be–––especially to an outcast, especially to a 6’3” girl.

“The Duke,” Larissa pitches in, pushing up off the couch’s back to join just behind your shoulder, gazing over at the photo in question. “My mother hated the name, but I insisted. He was a gift for my fifteenth birthday,” she reminisces, breath coursing over the tip of your ear. You peer up at her as she smiles, something sad and regretful there before she sucks in a deep breath and points out a new photo to you, more recent by the looks of it: Larissa stands with a large group of students in their Nevermore uniforms, mid-laugh as one of the kids waves his hands wildly and another has their mouth agape in what looks to be protest. Her eyes are crinkled - genuine - and one of her hands seems to be in the process of making its way up to cover her mouth, the other mindlessly resting at her midsection. You know that laugh. It’s her most uninhibited, her most authentic, which only comes out when she’s caught completely off-guard. Your favorite, if you’re honest.

“My first class of students as principal of Nevermore,” Larissa offers, scrunching her nose happily at the memory.

“What’d he say? That student?” You’re part genuine curiosity and part selfishness: eager to know what made her laugh like that, and how you can take hold of that kid’s humor and use it for yourself, elicit a look like that, a laugh like that, which so rarely comes about during school hours.

“I wish I could remember,” she murmurs, taking one last look before clasping her hands together and shocking you out of the reverie. “But nevermind all that. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You nod sheepishly, nearly apologetic knowing she likely hasn’t and is looking to be a good hostess. But she merely nods, looking relieved: “Oh good, I can’t be bothered to cook tonight,” Larissa admits, a teasing grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“Let me show you where everything is, then.” She guides you down the hall and nudges one of the doors open, gesturing with an open palm. “Here’s the bathroom. Extra amenities are in the second drawer there, towels in the closet.” The suite is nicer than any bathroom you’ve ever had, really the stuff of luxury hotels: white marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold knobs and handles on almost every appliance. You’ve no choice but to forcefully shoo away the startling, indecent imaginings that break through your reserves of Larissa sinking deep into the lush bubbles of the tub, skin glistening, chest bare––––

“Heated floors, too. I never go cold in the winters.” Ever humble, Larissa pulls at your shoulder gently and switches the light off, directing you to another door just diagonal of the bathroom. When she swings the door open, you’re embarrassingly aware of the way your jaw drops.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she says, stepping into the space. It’s gorgeous, swooping drapes of dark ruby and gold, satin bedding that pools over the mattress and onto the floor, puddles of fabric against a thick persian rug. There’s another fireplace opposite the bed, an area farther off with another scaling bookcase and two large, well-worn armchairs, a small number of intricately designed table and floor lamps, a matching vanity and armoire, the former of which is careful, lived-in chaos with its scattered tubes of lipstick and skin care tinctures.

It’s Larissa.

“Wow,” you breathe, meeting her amused gaze. “You never mentioned you live like this. I would’ve taken you up on a sleepover much sooner if I’d known.” Larissa flushes and coughs out a coy laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair as she looks out across the room.

“Yes, well. You’re here now.” She reaches out and lifts your handbag from you, pulling at your coat lapel next to signal you should take it off. Once you do, Larissa hangs it along one of the walls and places your bag on her vanity. Busy work. “I have clothes you can borrow of course, though they may be a bit big. I’ll set them out, although,” she pauses, glancing at her bedside clock, “it’s early still… Up for a movie? Glass of wine?”

You’re almost - almost - embarrassed by the unrestrained nodding of your head, but hell, it’s been a long week, and relaxing with a bottle of wine sounds like the perfect reward for making it through without breaking down [in front of your students]. The fact that it’s Larissa’s personal wine, in her personal quarters, in her personal hands does nothing to lessen the appeal.

The question of where Larissa will sleep, if showing you the bedroom was her way of offering it to you, hangs in your head, but you decide the answer can wait until the time for sleep comes around. By no means are you going to allow Larissa to banish herself to the couch in her own home. You’d sooner take the floor–––even if you’d jokingly complained about that very same concept earlier in the hour.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” She asks as you both return to the living room, you perching on the sofa as she disappears into what you assume is the kitchen to fetch the wine. It’s not normally a loaded question, nor one worth considering too deeply, but you realize you have an opportunity here… and if Larissa’s occasional blushes, her soft gaze, mean what you hope they do, perhaps there’s a strategy to be employed. You shift further into the cushions, absentmindedly running a hand over your clavicle in thought.

“Don’t laugh… but I’m a sucker for romance when the weather’s like this,” you call out. Larissa peeks her head out from around the corner, brows furrowed in funny disbelief.

“Really?”

“Wha–– why is that so hard to believe?!”

“It’s not, I just.. wasn’t expecting it, I suppose. You seem more of the action or thriller type.” She shrugs and disappears again without further explanation, leaving you to half-pout half-ponder at her words. Before you can make an argument in your defense, however, she’s returning with two full glasses, bottle tucked under her arm, and dimming the lights, a practiced look of concentration slanted across her features as she makes her way over to the couch and lowers one of the glasses into your waiting hand. The red sloshes up just near the edge when Larissa hands it off, and you half-jokingly prod at her as your brows shoot up in amusement.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Principal Weems?” She tuts with faux indignation, but the growing flush of her cheeks betrays her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She settles next to you - still a respectable distance for colleagues, but closer than mere acquaintances - and places the uncorked bottle on the table ahead of you, grinning.

“Romance it is, but I pick.” You ‘d be surprised by her demand if you didn’t know Larissa’s need to be in control at all times. In fact, if anything surprises you, it’s her calmness in the face of this turbulent weather–––perhaps the most uncontrollable variable there is. Even the most headstrong people can be manipulated, but not the sky.

The film she chooses isn’t one you’ve seen before, which excites you, and you both sink into the couch with a comfortable silence. You share little notes back and forth on the revolving plots and chuckle at the occasional joke, however cliché, as the movie rolls, finding an easy rhythm you’ve never before been able to appreciate amidst the chaos of classes and faculty meetings. 

It’s about an hour in, having finished your first glass and poured another for yourself and Larissa, that you make the mistake of peering over at her from the corner of your eye. A particularly sappy scene is playing out before you. The TV’s light flickers softly against her face, which is content and dare you say tender as the two protagonists share a moment together. The stumble before the fall. Her forehead creases and you have the sudden urge to kiss the lines away, warmed by the wine and her beauty.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers hoarsely, though her eyes never leave the screen. 

Your heart jolts when she catches you out, running hot with guilt. Your legs shift beneath you as you move to scoot a few inches away - to give her space from your leering gaze - but you freeze when you feel her hand on your knee, holding you in place. You watch her for any sign that’ll tell you what’s going through her head but she doesn’t budge further, only loosening her hold on you a fraction when you relax against the cushions again. Your heart is beating hard at the door of your ribs as you tilt your head back towards the movie, far too distracted to actually process anything that’s happening. The air is so thick now your lungs can hardly keep up; it’s a dizzying thing, electric, and your thoughts jumble haphazardly as you wonder whether or not Larissa’s feeling it, too.

You risk a peek at her again–––but Larissa is already looking at you. 

Her chest is heaving, albeit subtly, and her eyes are dark. A steep wave of arousal pulses through you when her tongue slips out along her upper lip, her gaze flicking down to your mouth and back up again: a question. The second you nod her mouth is on yours, both of you sighing into the touch. You cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer still as your other hand fists around the fabric of her dress. An insistent tug at your waist brings one of your legs between her own, hips rolling against each other as she gropes at you mindlessly, squeezing the thigh slotted over her heat.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathlessly, dragging your bottom lip between her teeth before she pulls away to look at you. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink and her lipstick is smudged. You giggle at the realization that there must be bright crimson streaks along your chin and lips.

“Yes,” you assure her between steadying pants, stroking a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and entwining your fingers, giving them a gentle pinch. “You alright?”

A smile briefly turns her lips, soft and loose. “Very much so.”

The next few moments are sweeter, slower as you take your time savoring her taste, tracing the swell of her lips, the delicate scar at the top there, following the line of her jaw up into her hair with your fingertips. She presses into you as gentle as ever, drawing shivers up to the surface of your skin as her hand snakes up the length of your spine. Barely there still is the sound of the fire lingering in its box and the distinct roar of wintry gusts at the window, mere suggestions at the back of your brain. The wine’s been long forgotten on the table.

You shudder when Larissa’s fingers tease at the lower hem of your blouse and brush against a bare sliver of skin, resting there before you arch into her and take hold of her wrist, guiding her hand higher. Her lips quirk to one side at your earnestness, especially as she reaches the clasp of your bra. She hesitates again, more teasing than searching, and slides her tongue into your willing mouth, exhaling sharply when you meet her move for move. Nimble fingers unclasp the bra without issue before they drift around to your front, putting distance between your bodies as Larissa palms your breasts, takes a nipple between her fingertips and pulls and twists with wicked dexterity.

A whimper escapes you when she sinks her teeth into your lip for a second time, much harsher this go around before she suddenly parts from you and begins pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and soothing in time with the hapless rocking of your hips. She adjusts to unbutton your top, never once pausing in her assault on your neck as she does so.

“Wait,” you pant out suddenly, and all at once her body leaves you, drawing back to give you space. The look on Larissa’s face is a concerned one, but gentle still, and you know she’ll follow where you need. It’s everything you can do not to keep her waiting in exchange for the chance to look at her, swollen lips and mussed hair, dress askew. 

She’s never been more beautiful to you. 

“Take me to bed.”

Her concern is washed away and replaced with relief - and then more prominent, want.

Larissa rises up from the couch and reaches a hand out to you, catching you off-guard when instead of walking you to the bedroom once you stand, she bends at the knee and scoops you up, your legs coming to wrap around her waist as you laugh in surprise.

“Who am I to say no,” she teases, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before making the careful trek over to the bedroom.

The question of where she’ll sleep is hardly that anymore. 

You’re both already naked and rocking against each other beneath her blankets when the power goes out. Neither of you truly take notice until the temperature in the room’s significantly plummeted.

“Oh–––one moment, darling.” You push yourself up on your elbows and whine as Larissa slips out of bed, hissing against the cold. Goosebumps raise along her skin, the peaks of her nipples hardening further as she rushes to kneel before the fireplace, sparking a flame in record time. Her skin nearly glows in the moonlight that trickles in from the windows, reflective amidst the snow. She looks like a ghost before you - ethereal, hauntingly so - and you tilt your head, gaze tracking from the deep slope of her calves to the fine curve of her ass, the faint divots of her spine, the wisps of hair that have come loose from their hold and fallen to her shoulders.

“You’re staring,” Larissa chides as she slides back under the covers, shivering.

“I’m admiring,” you correct lamely, a pitiful pout coming to rest upon your lips as you open your arms and draw her closer to warm her now-frigid skin. She hums as if to say ‘yeah, okay,’ burrows into you and drapes an arm across your middle as she pushes her leg between yours. Your hips instinctively buck when her thigh slides against the wetness of your cunt, and you’re both abruptly reminded of what had you so distracted in the first place.

Larissa tentatively nods towards you again and runs the tip of her tongue along your pulse point, your hips beginning to rock together once more, panting heavily and in unison while the storm surges on outside, unabated. The heat pooling in your stomach is in stark contrast to the drifting chill in the room, rearing a confused, overwhelming sensation of hot-cold along your skin. Larissa’s breath, warm on your neck, only further urges the feeling along until you feel as though you might snap if she doesn’t take you fully.

“Please,” you whimper, dragging your nails up over her back with little reserve. Larissa nips at your chin and yanks your leg further across her, taut against your clit.

“Please what?” Her voice is raked over with a carnal desire the likes of which you’ve never seen on her before, deep and airy. It only serves to pull the coil tighter. Your breath hitches as she pushes herself up on her hands and knees, hovering over you now, and she leans down, down until her face is level with yours, an intense wave of adoration flooding through you as she caresses one of your cheeks. She whispers, “I want you to beg, sweetheart,” and it’s all over, never a chance, the air all but torn from you, slick heat gone straight to your cunt.

Beg for her. Beg for Her. No matter how many times the thought bounces around within that empty little head of yours, you’re frozen in place both by lust and surprise. You’ve had your share of fun, of course, but the type that usually involves you calling the shots, taking charge. You thought you liked it that way.

You might’ve been wrong.

You’re only finally jostled from your thoughts when Larissa pulls back and draws a brow up at your silence. A shadow of concern passes over her face but you’re quick to pull her back in, nodding.

“Please fuck me,” you all but whisper, desperate to be filled, to be warmed, to be taken care of while the elements ravage the earth beyond these four walls. Larissa grins smugly at your feebleness, pressing her full weight upon you before she winds a hand down between your bodies, cupping your slickness in her palm. You’re dripping all over yourself, you know: a cool, nearly chafing wetness coating the inside of your thighs, so easily spread when Larissa dips her fingers in between your folds. She sinks a single digit into you just halfway, draws it out, sinks in again and curls it against that soft spot, yes, right there––

She easily adds another and hums at the way your body translates its own neediness, busying her mouth with the soft line of your jaw.

“You feel so good..” she murmurs as her fingers bury themselves into you knuckle-deep, so long and soft and better than you’d ever imagined (and you’d certainly spent time imagining it). Her hips press into yours from above, throwing weight behind her hand as she rolls against you, a slow and steady fucking that excites the fire already roaring within you. You gaze up at her in awe as her eyelids flutter in time with the movement of her hips, realizing she’s found just the right friction against the back of her own hand that each time she thrusts into you, a firm, rippling pressure rubs up against her own clit.

Your hands search frantically now until they’re planted at the slope of Larissa’s waist and you watch, carefully, as you pull her harder into each drive of her hips, rejoicing when she gasps and shudders into the pattern, breaking it for a fraction of a second before driving into you with a far greater desperation.

“Oohf, yes, th-that’s it, darling,” she pants out before capturing your lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Suddenly your own orgasm is incidental as you revel in the picture of her coming undone above you, chest flushed, cheeks pink, her hair falling further from its updo as she works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at me, I want to see you,” you clamor with a novel burst of confidence, hands drifting up from her waist to cup her face in your palms. You want to look her in the eye when she cums. You want the memory of her sounds, her face, so deeply imbedded in your mind that it’ll keep you warm when you’ve returned to your own quarters. You want, you want, you want, and she whimpers - a heavenly sound - and obliges, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks down at you, tongue darting out as she attempts to maintain some degree of focus.

“Right there, right there.. I can feel how close you are,” you huffily encourage, shifting so that both of your legs wrap tight around her and wrench her deeper, harder into you, smiling when her breath hitches at the change of pace and pressure against her sex. You watch her closely, in awe: Larissa’s brows are furrowed, her mouth fallen open and the pink of her tongue closely matched to that of her cheeks, the slight swell of her tits lurching which each thrust. The knowledge that each plunge into your cunt brings her closer is surreal––that she’s so obviously getting off on fucking you, that the frantic snap of her hips is building both of you up, simultaneously.

Her hips begin to stutter into you, airy whimpers falling from her as she teeters on the edge, fingers curling haphazardly in an attempt to continue fucking you through the oncoming rush of her orgasm. The mattress rocks and dips momentarily as Larissa gasps, sharp, and suddenly bows over you with the force of her climax, breath hot on your neck, forehead pressed into your temple, chest heaving against yours as she mindlessly ruts. Her fingers remain buried in your heat, pulsing slowly in time with her come-down. 

Larissa’s body shudders as you run your palm over her in light, gentle sweeps, one hand carefully traveling to cup the back of her neck.

“You’re alright.. I know.. ‘s good, hm?” You feel a weak nod at your side, Larissa eventually stilling atop you. The pad of her thumb draws slow, lazy circles around your clit as her breathing slows, nosing the crook between your shoulder and neck. 

“Christ,” she mumbles against your skin, and you chuckle as her lips draw a line from your ear to your chin.

“Yeah?” She hums and - slowly, determined - begins to wriggle down your body until her face is level with your cunt, glancing up at you with a blissed-out smirk before she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your slickness. The wet warmth of her tongue slides easily against you, dipping between your folds, lapping up the puddle that’s collected at your center, working in tandem with the pressure of her thumb at your clit, a feeling dumbly akin to religious devotion: a reverent prayer at your sex, holy flames licking up the walls of her bedroom, the weighted creases of her sheets stretched where she kneels before you.

A strong gust of wind wracks the shutters of her windows. They bang haphazardly against the glass, knocking in time with the surges of the storm.

Your fingers clench around the bed covers as Larissa rolls over your entrance once more, teasing, then pushing into your dripping hole with an embarrassing ease. She fucks you slow and as deep as she’s able, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. Not even the devil themself could stop you from rolling your pussy against her face in search of some greater friction, whining as the sounds of her tongue wading through your arousal mixes with the crackling of the fireplace, the moan of the storm outside.

“Ohfuckyes,” you pant as your legs spread further on their own accord, knees drawing up to alter the angle at which your pleasure floods through you. She moves with delicious ability, and you watch the stark blondeness of her hair bob with every fervent lap of her tongue, overwhelmed with the sudden realness of the moment: Larissa’s scent on the pillows, her lipstick smudged across your lips, her sweat on your skin. Her thumb abandons your clit, and a desperate cry waits at the threshold of your mouth until her finger is replaced with the pointed flicking of her tongue, quick and full and firm against you. The coil pulls tight within your core.

She murmurs something brusque but you’re too consumed with the sensation of her fingertips at your inner thigh to process, but she repeats herself as you release a heavy sigh, her fingers sinking deep into your cunt.

“That’s a good girl..." Your back arches at the same time Larissa takes your clit into her mouth, sucking and slurping as if to drink from that little bundle of nerves drawn straight to your core, as if to quench an otherworldly thirst. She pulls your orgasm from you quick and unforgivingly, never stumbling in her ministrations when your thighs begin to close in around her, or when your hands wind into her hair and pull, hard. She continues to devour you as if she doesn’t notice the snapping of that coil, the sounds that melt into the satiny sheets of her bed as you cry out for her–––the curling into yourself as your clit throbs towards unbearable tenderness.

“Fff––please, please, I’m––” Sapphire eyes bore into yours as her lips stretch into a devious smile, slowly but surely unlatching. A mercy, if you’ve ever seen one. You tremble in relief.

“You can’t take it?” she coos, superficial concern floating by your quivering sex. You don’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away when Larissa glances down towards your soaking cunt again––––

but the choice is made for you when she draws herself up and grabs hold of your chin, pushing her tongue into the waiting cavern of your mouth. The sure expanse of her thigh slides between your legs as she does so, eliciting a startled twitch as she brushes against your clit. She swallows your gasp.

“So sweet.” Larissa nips at your chin, presses her thigh against you more firmly and rubs her thumb back and forth along your cheek. Your hips buck of their own volition, acting solely on the most primal of instincts despite the sensitive twinge between your legs. There’s only Larissa’s softness, her warmth, her gentle affection circling your head, coloring the air around you. The world’s ending outside and it’s just her.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with the need to absorb her, to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once as if you could meld together somehow amidst the tousled satin.

She stills, hovering over you with a smile so soft you’re almost certain this has all been a very long, very desperate webbing of dreams until she obliges, brushing her lips against yours with the utmost of care.

“Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, eyes searching.

“Better than alright,” you assure her, brushing a stray hair from in front of her face. “Kind of just wanted to be close to you…” You shrug sheepishly and turn your attention to the far wall, suddenly very interested in the twisting shadows of trees cast against the space there. The abrupt rush of vulnerability reddens your cheeks, lips pursing as the regret at such an intimate admission prickles up with equal swiftness. It’s quickly brushed away, however, when Larissa clicks her tongue and tilts your face towards her with a palm against your cheek, brow arched amusedly.

“Then be close,” she says, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose before she pulls you flush against her and buries her face into your neck. The fire’s dwindling, informed by the dying light of the room, the falling temperature beyond the bed, but neither of you notice as you wrap yourselves up in the arms of the other, tending to a warmth all your own.

[bbobpul]

break my heart again 2 — njm

PAIRING. na jaemin x reader SUMMARY.how's jaemin gonna give back for all of y/n's efforts now that he finally can? it's been years—just how much has everything changed? GENRE. angst, fluff, she fell first 🤭 W/C. 3.5k NOTE. hello, part two is here! so sorry i couldn't make a taglist. i didn't have time to make one. nevertheless, i hope this fic make its way back to you. love u all and thankies sm !!!! also, my requests are open !!!

(⁠���⁠｡⁠☉⁠)⁠!⁠→ my other works !!!!!! part one here!!

i find it hard to picture myself ever being as dedicated to something or someone again, just like how i dedicated my entire college life to na jaemin.

lately, i've been feeling like i forgot what it's like to actually have a dream. back then, na jaemin was my dream, he was my driving force. i would force myself to wake up so early in the morning just so i could see him (or his car) enter the gates of the university. i would go to school even though i am sick and feel a lot better when i get home because i saw na jaemin. but now two years after graduating, i still haven't found a decent job that i actually enjoy.

it's a common experience that many people go through, and i suppose i shouldn't complain about it. maybe i need to put in more effort and push myself harder. part of me wonders if having na jaemin back in my life would rekindle that same sense of dedication that i once had. but as i say these thoughts out loud, they sound absurd, even to myself. why would i wish for my first love to return just so i could find a decent job? why would i long for na jaemin to come back merely to feel that spark in my life again? it's puzzling why i'm even dwelling on thoughts of him and wondering if he holds the key to my happiness and success.

oh, to dream.

oh, for that old dedication to still burn within you.

if only you hadn't acted so dumb that day. could life have taken a different path? are you even happy now? if you hadn't let fear hold you back back then, if you'd actually been brave enough to listen and follow through, would you be happier today?

but no matter how much you keep bothering yourself with that memory, if people come up to you and ask if you feel bad about everything that happened that day, you'd say no. you don't feel bad at all.

deciding to let him go was one of the best things you did. he seemed happy when you left, and after that, you never heard anything about him. he's like a touchy subject in your group of friends, which can be tough sometimes since you share friends. but does it really matter now? him not being in your life probably means he's happier and more peaceful, right?

are you feeling peaceful? is being stuck in a 9-5 job that hardly brought you joy a happy situation? scratch that. did being in that job make you happy? clearly not, as you've just mustered the bravery to quit. and in doing so, you've never felt more joyful.

did you really make the right decision?

just as you were pondering your own question, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. you grabbed it and saw that the caller was renjun, your incredibly patient best friend.

"y/n," he said, his tone becoming unusually serious. "what's up?" you asked. "do you need money?" "yeah?" "here's the deal: our college is putting together a documentary film, and they've chosen your department. but guess what? your old classmates are bombarding me with messages because it looks like you're ignoring them all. frankly, i can't believe you even answered my call," he griped. "wait, hold on. what film? and why would they pick me? are they searching for someone with a post-college life so sad that it belongs in a documentary?" "well, you were practically a legend back in college, so… and apparently, the director specifically wants you, which leads to… well, another issue…" "what's the problem now?" "it's going to be directed by jaemin."

and just like that, you ended the call. but a few seconds later, renjun's call came in again.

"i'm not going to do it." "you stubborn brat." "why him?" "i have no idea!" "why is he even directing? wasn't he studying architecture or something?" "i don't know, y/n. i haven't heard a single thing about him since your graduation." "what do you mean?" "that's not important now, y/n. you're in need of money, right? seize the opportunity. do it for the cash." “so will you do it or will you do it?” “for the cash.”

...

"y/n, you've moved on, haven't you? what's done is done. i'm pretty sure jaemin has forgotten all about it. this chance is coming your way, so just accept it." "i guess i will."

you're drawn in by the idea of making some extra money and the possibility of catching the eye of potential agents or employers. right now, you're at a crossroads, thinking about how this documentary could be a stepping stone to more job opportunities down the line. this situation is different from what usually drives you – this time, it's not about others, it's about focusing on your own goals and aspirations.

you're deliberately avoiding dwelling on your past. just as renjun mentioned, you've moved beyond it. what's done is done. right now, your focus is firmly on the present and the potential that lies ahead in the future.

what's in the past is behind us, including whatever existed between jaemin and you.

from renjun

tomorrow at lunchtime, they'll be going over the schedules and discussing what to film. if you want, you can chat with the director now. his number is 0825 813 2000.

in response, you simply replied with a "okay."

the night before the lunch meeting, a jumble of emotions has you in its grip. the idea of reconnecting with jaemin, who used to be your best friend and is now someone distant, fills you with a sense of awkwardness. you tell yourself that this is about working together and the chance to grow professionally.

after taking a deep breath, you decide to shoot jaemin a text. your fingers hesitate as you type, and the uncertainty you're feeling seems to seep into your message. you finally press send, and your text reads, "hey, it's y/n. heard we're meeting tomorrow for the documentary. just wanted to check in before that."

in almost no time, your phone buzzes with a response: "hey y/n, good to hear from you. yeah, looking forward to our meeting. let's catch up and chat about the project."

the conversation is polite, but beneath the surface, there's an unspoken layer of complexity. you can feel the hesitation in your exchange, a silent recognition of the shared history that's now a distant memory. as you talk about the meeting and the documentary, the easy flow you once had is noticeably absent.

as the texts go back and forth, a sense of tension seems to hang in the air. it's as though the years of friendship you once had are casting a shadow over your conversation. the effortless connection you once shared now requires effort, and both of you can sense the change.

as the conversation wraps up with a simple "see you tomorrow," you're left with a mix of excitement and anxiety. the idea of seeing jaemin again, especially in a professional context, stirs up a range of emotions. this situation is a stark reminder of just how much things have changed – and maybe how some things can't go back to the way they were.

you believed the conversation had concluded, only for your phone to ring once more, bearing yet another message from him. as you read the words on the screen, "i missed you, y/n," a rush of emotions floods over you.

"what's going on with him?" you mutter to yourself, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. your gaze remains fixed on the message for a moment, your attention drawn to the three blinking dots in the corner – a sign that he's in the process of typing a response. several more seconds tick by, the dots eventually vanishing, and in response, you shut your phone off. you make an attempt to settle into bed and get some rest, but truth be told, it's hard to claim you managed to sleep soundly that night. an undercurrent of thoughts and emotions keeps your mind restless.

the day of lunch lunch finally arrived. you sat across from jaemin, his words forming a distant hum as your thoughts remained clouded and preoccupied. the lingering impact of his recent message kept you in a state of unease, making it difficult to fully engage in the conversation he was leading.

then, something inside you snapped, and you found yourself abruptly interrupting him with a question that had been gnawing at you, "why me?"

he looked at you, his gaze steady, and his response was quick, "why not you?"

your frustration simmered as his words hit you. he was choosing to be cryptic, and it was only adding to your confusion. pushing past your exasperation, you pressed on, "listen, i know we didn't part on the best terms, but why come back now and act like everything's fine? i mean, sure, it's better than hostility, but why choose me? i'm the one who's no longer part of your life."

his expression remained neutral, void of any emotions as he replied, "that's not true."

you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to elaborate. "what's not true?"

"that you have nothing to do with my life, y/n," he stated firmly.

the weight of his words settled heavily between you two, the gravity of the situation growing more apparent. the lunch table had transformed into an arena for confronting unresolved issues.

you scoffed, unable to hold back your disbelief. "jaemin, i made one mistake, and now you're trying to imply that my actions shaped your entire life?"

his eyes held yours, unwavering. "y/n, it's not just about that one mistake. everything that followed, everything that shaped who i am today… it's all connected to you."

your mind reeled, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was suggesting. the complexities of your shared history seemed to crash over you, leaving you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions and a tangled web of unspoken feelings.

the weight of his words left you momentarily speechless, and in an attempt to shift away from the intensity, you sought to change the subject. "where are the other producers? why is it just you here?"

"y/n…" he began, his tone suggesting he wanted to continue the previous conversation.

however, you opted to sidestep the discussion entirely. you pretended as if the profound exchange hadn't just occurred. "i notice you're taking on the role of a director now. quite the career shift, huh?" you inquired, masking your internal turmoil with a casual demeanor. you acted as if there hadn't been a two-year gap in your connection, as though things between you were perfectly ordinary.

he met your gaze, a faint hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "i pursued another dream when i felt i'd lost the chance for my first one."

"your first dream… not architecture, then?" you prodded, curious about the direction he had taken.

he shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him, leaving you puzzled yet again. "no, not architecture. well, i suppose that just wasn't meant for me back then, but maybe it is now."

the cryptic nature of his response only added to the layers of confusion and intrigue that surrounded him. there was something about the way he spoke that hinted at deeper currents beneath the surface, emotions and experiences that he hadn't fully revealed. you found yourself torn between the desire to push for answers and the instinct to allow him his privacy. the lunch meeting had transformed into a stage for untangling not just the complexities of the documentary but also the intricate web of emotions and history between you and jaemin.

leaving the restaurant, a whirlwind of unanswered questions dances in your mind. yet, for now, you choose to tuck those thoughts away, focusing instead on the looming filming date just a few days away – next saturday.

in the span of time between that lunch and the upcoming shoot, jaemin proves consistent in his attempts to bridge the gap between you two. he regularly reaches out, updating you about his day and proposing get-togethers, which you consistently decline.

the days pass, marked by a series of messages and missed opportunities. despite the undeniable tension, there's an undeniable persistence on jaemin's part, a determined effort to reconnect and reestablish a sense of familiarity. however, your apprehensions and the memories of your past dynamics hold you back, keeping you from embracing his overtures.

as the countdown to the filming day continues, you find yourself in a delicate dance – balancing the unresolved history between you and the prospects of the future. the lines between your personal and professional lives are blurred, and the documentary project becomes a backdrop against which the intricacies of your relationship with jaemin play out.

you find yourself constantly pondering what his intentions could be. his actions leave you wondering, and you can't help but question what he's aiming for. in your perspective, you're merely a negative aspect of his life – a streak of misfortune. you would have expected him to have learned from the past, but his determination remains unshakeable.

as you contemplate these thoughts, your phone lights up once more, bearing yet another message from him. his name on the screen triggers a whirlwind of emotions – a mixture of uncertainty, annoyance, and a hint of curiosity. opening the message, you brace yourself for whatever he might convey this time. the consistency in his attempts at communication only serves to deepen the intricate web of emotions you hold for him, leaving you caught between your shared history and the unpredictability of the present.

"the offer's still there, y/n. :)" "jaemin, let's be real. just because i'm on board with your documentary idea doesn't mean we're suddenly best buds again. a lot has changed." "i want to reconnect, though." "actually, scratch that. i want to get to know you all over again." "jaemin, i appreciate the effort, but let's keep things professional, okay?" “i’m sorry, y/n. goodnight.”

after your straightforward message, his responses ceased. a silence settled in, stretching on until saturday – the day you were set to see him again. the anticipation and uncertainty had been building, and now the moment was finally at hand.

you stepped into the studio and immediately noticed that you and jaemin were the only ones present. your confusion must have been evident on your face, prompting him to address the situation promptly.

"um, the team thought having fewer people in the room would create a more personal atmosphere," he began, his voice carrying a hint of unease. "and, well, they decided to keep me here, you know, being the director and all, and also because we have a history…"

his words trailed off, and there was a subtle vulnerability in his tone. it was as if he was acknowledging the intricacies of your past connection, while simultaneously recognizing the complexities it introduced into your current dynamic. the studio, usually a place of creativity and collaboration, had transformed into a space laden with the weight of your shared history.

"it's okay," you responded, your words carrying a touch of reassurance. as your reply registered, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips – a detail you couldn't help but notice. after all, it was that very smile that had ignited four years of your life, a smile that held memories and emotions you had both shared.

"um, i'll just ask you a few questions, and then you're free to go," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness that didn't escape your notice. this new facet of his demeanor felt unfamiliar to you, a departure from the confident jaemin you had known.

you found yourself disliking this uneasiness, and a thought occurred to you – maybe it was time to rekindle something within him. as he began asking you questions, you decided to respond in a way that would evoke a certain familiarity between you two. it was a subtle attempt to bridge the gap, to draw out the person you once knew.

you had believed that his silence was what you wanted. you had convinced yourself that distancing yourself from him would protect you from the past mistakes. but now, facing the reality of the situation, you realized that perhaps a certain selfishness was ingrained within you. maybe, just maybe, you yearned to erase the distance, to defy your own rationalizations.

in this moment, you found yourself yearning to rekindle what had been lost, to bring back a connection that once meant so much. the conflicting emotions within you painted a complex picture of your desires – a battle between self-preservation and the longing for something more.

however, as you locked eyes with him and saw the lack of any discernible emotion in his gaze, a haunting wave of fear resurfaced within you. in that moment, it was as if time rewound, taking you back to the day of your graduation when your heart and spirit had felt shattered. the memory of that painful experience rushed back, accompanied by the doubts and uncertainties that had plagued you.

if you were to truly confront your own feelings, you'd admit that what you witnessed that night had left you questioning your own worth. the events had stirred up doubts about whether you had ever been deserving of taking risks for, whether you had ever been someone worth fighting for.

"hey, good morning, y/n."

"morning, director."

"how's today treating you?"

"pretty good, thanks."

"hmm, and what's life been like after college?"

"…"

"take your time."

"at first, i felt okay. my friends were all getting closer to their dreams, and i was genuinely happy for them. especially…"

"especially who?"

"especially the person i left behind."

"…"

"i was content being happy for someone else. then another year went by, and i wasn't feeling so great anymore."

"do you really think they're happy?"

"hmm?"

"the person you left behind."

"yeah. and my other friends seem happy too. they've got jobs they love, they're with people they care about, and i only had… renjun *laughs* … but sometimes, i can't help but feel like i'm the one who got left behind, you know? even though i was the one who walked away."

"let's talk about your person."

"oh *laughs* he's not my person."

pausing for a moment, you glanced at jaemin behind the camera. the question lingered in your mind: what was he trying to do? his actions and intentions remained a puzzle.

his expression grew serious, his gaze fixed intently on you. it was as if he had something to convey, something he was holding back.

"the last time i actually saw him was in an instagram post. he was with some girl. it happened on my graduation day. i waited the whole day, hoping he'd appear in the midst of the crowd. when he didn't, i held onto the possibility of seeing him by the gates. but that didn't happen either. my last hope was maybe he'd send me a single message, but by the end of the day, nothing came. then i went on instagram and saw a photo – a warning, i guess. a warning that i should just stop hoping. that… happened a few weeks later, i think. or maybe it was just a few days after our argument, the one where he told me he couldn't love… yeah."

you met his gaze and once again, his face was serious. his eyes were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open. a few moments passed, and he let out a shaky breath. screw it, you thought, it's out there now and i don't care anymore.

your silent exchange was interrupted as he shifted the camera away. confusion clouded your thoughts as you watched him move. he turned back to you, his expression still serious, and then he grabbed a chair from the nearby table. he sat down with his back facing you.

the room felt charged with unspoken emotions, leaving you to question his intentions and actions. it was as if he was peeling away layers, searching for something beneath the surface.

"did you know that…" he began, his voice breaking the silence. "she was his sister?"

"i never told you about her, that's on me," he admitted with a chuckle. "that was her last day, y/n. so i decided to spend the entire day with her. i'm sorry."

you were taken aback. "i'm sorry–"

"it's okay, y/n."

"i know i left you with so many questions that night, but let me tell you… every effort you made, every cookie you baked, i cherished all of it. i loved you. i'm sorry if my actions made you doubt yourself."

another pause filled the air.

"i left when you left."

"you were my dream. architecture wasn't really my passion, you know? i was struggling a lot, but luckily, you were there with me. i decided to chase after what i truly loved when you left, because i realized if i wanted you back in my life, it should be when i'm at my best, right? i wasn't lying when i said i couldn't love. i didn't want to love you when i was broken. i wanted to be the best version of myself for you. i thought that if i wanted you to be with the best person, then that should be me. so i became that person, a director, and then i planned all of this." his eyes finally met yours.

"i was always looking at you."

tears welled up in your eyes, and he seemed to notice. he took a step towards you and enveloped you in his arms.

"i'm sorry for not holding onto you back then, baby. but i promise, i won't let go of you now," he whispered.

"i'm sorry for leaving, jaemin," you sobbed.

"shh, you did what you thought was right."

"do you want to have lunch with me now?" he asked.

a mixture of emotions flooded your heart, and with a nod, you replied, "yes, jaemin."

[lyselkatzfandomluvs]

ZànZàn's birthday livestream, KuanKuan called to chat a little.

Unedited, savage translation I did in a frenzy for my online-besties group chat.

KK: what happens to your plants when you leave for filming?

ZZ: you can come and take care of them!

KK: aaaah?!

ZZ: Just kidding! my team will do it, I filmed tutorials and everything

[...]

KK: I've watched some of your (green room class) videos and I think you're rather rather knowledgeable.

ZZ: why *rather*? Cut *rather* out!

KK: I mean you are very caring and good with all that green stuff and very patient..

ZZ: Sure, I wanna see how far you can take this praise (bullshit).

KK: hum. I find your attire very fitting for today's cheerful birthday mood.I join everyone to wish you... wish you... what can I wish you...lemme think...

ZZ: let's wish us, not just me, that we film good stuff *make big money*

KK: wish you a smooth beginning (with the new project). Don't get hurt during filming, be careful with covid sanitary procedures.

ZZ: Hahahaha, that's my Kuan-ge, it's so rare to hear him speak so much at once! Applause for Kuan-ge!

ZZ: why don't you open your camera, what are you doing?

KK: I can't, I just got out of gym.

ZZ: why not? You're a man, right? (Taunting)

(People off camera cheering)

ZZ: not me not me!! That's the public's reaction! Show your abs, it's not like you don't have those!

KK: no no I'm all sweaty and I've been dieting so I don't look very healthy, compared to you I would look even older.

ZZ: they say you don't have to show your face, just your abs

KK: then I can just send a picture

ZZ: no no! Even someone like me without abs could digitally add some to a picture.

My viewers are picky, they think my background is fake, I have to show them by touching my plants. They would say it's fake if you just send a picture.

KK: does celebrating your birthday make you think that you can just say anything?

ZZ: yes!!! I don't know why, I feel very *high*.

KK: who gave you that bravery?

ZZ: Youuu! You gave it to me! How about you sing *Brave* instead?

KK: okay, since it's not often your birthday, just once a year, I just came by to chat.

ZZ: I can celebrate twice, for solar and lunar calendars. That gives you about a month to show your abs.

[...]

KK: no, you're a grown up now, don't do such childish things huh?

ZZ: I AM very childish, that's a fact, but my assistants are all adults and they think it's an ok thing (to ask you to show your abs)

[... more taunting]

KK: okay, you keep chatting with your viewers until giveaway time

ZZ: and you? Do you want something? A plant?

KK: can't can't.. first because you would be grudgingly give it to me a d secondly I won't care for it well enough, it would be mistreatment. That won't do.

ZZ: I'll teach you!

KK: I don't.. I don't like...

ZZ: WHAT? All these plants (babies) and there's not one you like? Don't you have a caring heart? You do like the colour green? Don't you?

KK: I... can't be as knowledgeable and caring as you.

ZZ: okay, I really wanna sing but my team won't allow me.

You can use your charm and teach me to play an instrument and I'll teach you how to care for plants.

KK: the last sentence doesn't rime!

ZZ: I can't sing and now you say I can't even speak correctly?

Listen! They are all bullying me!! (Points off camera) won't you defend me? Won't you defend me?!

KK: perhaps because you are with some friends, I notice that you don't really act like yourself. After you're settled and have a break in filming, let's grab a meal!

ZZ: a big HEART for our Kuan-ge, it's so late and he still goes to the gym and drops by my livestream!

KK: thank you! Good night!

[becomewings]

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

     BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 1 / 4

» pt. 2

Introduction

BTS Universe Story, a mobile game published by Netmarble, was released on September 24, 2020. While the majority of the app is essentially a sandbox and engine for users to create their own interactive stories, it also includes official and canon BU content. The first eight segments were introduced between the release date and December 2020, gathered under the title The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>.

“I’m Fine” is half of the I’m Fine/Save Me ambigram introduced in the Love Yourself era. Notably, all of the BU content available in the game so far falls between events of the webtoon Save Me (also called HYYH0 in its logo) and The Notes 1—chronologically, that is, while bearing in mind that time resets to the morning of 11 April Year 22 whenever SeokJin fails to avert a tragedy among his six friends. I want to assure anyone who is unable to play the game that you are not missing any new, major plot beats from the overall BU narrative. Instead, the stories provide more insight into the motivations and consequences of SeokJin’s decisions in the earlier time loops, as well as more depth to individual characters and their circumstances.

The goal of this guide is to summarize each of the eight stories and highlight noteworthy details, especially if they are not yet present in other BU media. Within each story (which I often refer to as an arc, due to their character-focused nature), episodes must be played successively, but the stories themselves can be played in any order. I will present them over a series of posts in the order they are listed under the <I’M FINE> heading. The Prologue and NamJoon’s arc are free to play; the rest are paid content. Please note that due to the app’s Terms & Conditions, I will not include in-game footage here. The images in this guide are sourced from the official trailers/videos and the live action MVs as appropriate.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Game Mechanic

Before diving into the summaries, I would like to address the primary mechanic of the game: the user’s control of character choices at designated moments in the stories. It’s a primary marketing point that the player can influence the progression of the narrative, with a frequent in-app tip also declaring, “stories’ endings can vary depending on your choices.” The latter is not strictly true—and it cannot be true due to the structure of the game. Choices are presented within most (not all) episodes, but each episode is an isolated unit: episode 2 provides the same content regardless of what you choose in episode 1. Since the consequences of your decisions are not cumulative, each episode reaches the same ending, and each decision inevitably rejoins the “main” story path (effectively reducing the script size).

So what is the point of this mechanic? While the system is not nearly as complex as what major platform titles are capable of nowadays (I suspect due in large part to the story creation portion of the game), it does foster a sense of interaction with the narrative that isn’t present in static visual media like comics or film. The episodes with choices also have incentive for replay to discover the impact of changing a character’s dialogue or action. Sometimes the differences between the outcomes are inconsequential, but other times you unearth new details, interactions, or memories that are missing in the other path.

I say this partially in reaction to all of the comments and tweets I read for the game trailers and even Smeraldo Book twitter’s choose-your-own-adventure style teasers with The Notes 2 excerpts released last summer. Many users expressed excitement, through words or memes, about finally being able to give the boys the happy ending they deserved. I don’t fault anyone for wanting that happy ending—I wish for it, too. But no matter what the rather overzealous marketing has claimed, I don’t believe that the canon ending of BU is ever meant to be in the audience’s control. But I do feel that this mechanism fits the BU narrative. It echoes the “countless loops” SeokJin has experienced in an effort to save his friends, the choices he must make at every crossroad, and the butterfly effect those actions have on all of their lives. I think it is reasonable to interpret the simple branching paths in the game as alternatives SeokJin has explored across multiple loops in his struggle to find the “right” way forward. I’d love to hear if you have theories of your own!

Prologue

The prologue is a brief episode introducing SeokJin’s repeated struggle and failure to save his friends. He wakes up yet again in his bed on 11 April Year 22, the beginning of the time loop. After reflecting on the tragedies that keep befalling the others, SeokJin realizes that he has only tried to fix the problems he can see. He wonders: “Have I tried to understand the root of my friends’ misfortunes? How much do I really know about my friends? Maybe I was never brave enough to confront their real scars and the worlds they’ve been living in. But I need to do it. Because it may be the key to saving them all.”

How to Offer a Hand

In this story, SeokJin attempts to prevent NamJoon’s arrest after he gets in a fight with a rude customer at Naeri Gas Station, his place of work. The first episode opens on the night of 11 April Year 22 with NamJoon curling his fists, glaring as crumpled bills lie untouched on the pavement. (The money looks similar to the shot from the I Need U MV.) SeokJin reaches for his shoulder, but NamJoon shrugs him off and strides away to punch the customer who deliberately dropped the bills for him to pick up. The gas station owner runs over at the customer’s furious shouts and orders NamJoon to apologize. He refuses, and police officers soon arrive and charge him with assault. No one listens to SeokJin’s protests that the customer started it first. The man sneers as NamJoon enters the police car. “Do you even have money for a settlement? Hey, you’re done for.” NamJoon is sentenced to prison again, and SeokJin hears glass shattering before the loop resets.

Rising from his bed on the morning of 11 April, SeokJin reflects on his failed efforts so far. He has hit the customer’s car, called for NamJoon in the middle of the incident, and stopped the fight himself, the latter of which caused his friends to avoid him later. The fight has even escalated; the details are unspecified, but the audience is provided an ominous shot of SeokJin speaking to a police officer alone at the scene. NamJoon is not the kind of person who would normally respond to that kind of provocation with his fists. SeokJin realizes that he cannot merely stop the fight but must discover and fix the true cause of it.

With this in mind, SeokJin heads to Naeri Gas Station during the day and tries to engage NamJoon. This is their first time meeting since they both returned to Songju, although SeokJin has experienced it in many loops already. “It’s been a while,” he greets (as he does at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV). Before SeokJin can dig deeper in their conversation, NamJoon is called away by his boss. SeokJin enters the small employee break room which serves as NamJoon’s living space when he’s not at the container, hoping to find some clues about his friend’s life. SeokJin locates something bundled in newspapers. If the player chooses to open it, he sees a strange shard of glass inside that may belong to a car or motorcycle headlight. He continues on, finding the book Cosmos by Carl Sagan and a notebook. SeokJin hesitates over the invasion of privacy but decides to read it since he needs all the information that he can gather. The journal entries detail NamJoon’s daily life since returning to Songju: his work at the gas station isn’t too bad despite the occasional rude customer; he purchased a book and hopes to get more in the future; he picked up a second job at a wedding hall to help catch up on bills; his brother NamHyeon got in trouble again, leading to more expenses; and his dad’s health has worsened, with hospital bills after an emergency surgery rising to levels that the family cannot afford. SeokJin knew that NamJoon was the de facto head of household due to his father’s illness but was unaware that it was to this degree. He feels sorry for NamJoon yet is also impressed by his maturity, for NamJoon never writes how difficult his situation is.

NamJoon arrives and asks what SeokJin is doing in the room. If the player chooses to answer “reading” instead of “just sitting there,” SeokJin privately observes that the conversation flows more easily when they talk about books. NamJoon says he must leave and declines when SeokJin offers to wait for him there. SeokJin knocks over a pile of books along with money and receipts as he stands. He thinks it is unusual that NamJoon picks up the books before the money. The books seem to be more than a hobby to NamJoon, holding special meaning. Walking to his car, SeokJin wonders if it is pride or determination not to falter that keeps NamJoon from journaling his grievances. He realizes that money is a constant source of frustration and misery to NamJoon, and that’s why he can’t stomach being insulted over the customer’s dropped money. SeokJin’s new plan is to prevent NamJoon from picking up the money. He also calls Palgok County Hospital and offers to pay the patient bill for NamJoon’s father. Anticipating that NamJoon will be angry if he finds out, SeokJin says the payer is Songho Foundation.

That night, SeokJin returns to the gas station with the excuse that he forgot to fill up earlier. The luxury car arrives with a honk, and NamJoon hurries over to assist. He shakes with anger when the customer drops the money on the ground. “Why aren’t you picking it up? You don’t want it? What’s with that look? Pretty arrogant for a part-timer, aren’t you?” goads the customer. SeokJin intervenes. Whether the player chooses to have him advise NamJoon not to pick it up or to order the customer to pick it up himself, the end result is the same. SeokJin asks the customer, “Why are you harassing a pitiful part-timer?” The customer drives away, and something about NamJoon seems off. His face is expressionless, not mad or humiliated. “SeokJin, you…” He stops. “Never mind. Thank you for your help.” The words sound difficult for him to speak.

SeokJin believes that he has saved NamJoon, although this ending feels sloppy. He continues on in the loop to rescue JungKook and later YoonGi, but uneasiness plagues him. Though he meant to help NamJoon with his actions, SeokJin wonders if he hurt him instead. On 5 May Year 22, he returns to the gas station and follows NamJoon when he leaves work early. NamJoon enters a bookstore, and SeokJin sneaks in after him to watch from afar. He overhears employees talking about NamJoon, worrying that he might dirty the pages of the book he’s perusing. NamJoon is too absorbed in the book to notice one of them calling for his attention. SeokJin recalls a memory from their school days when he found NamJoon reading alone in their classroom hideout: he asked why NamJoon read so diligently, and his friend explained that he found it comforting to empty his thoughts of everything else while focused on the book. In the present, SeokJin wonders how he forgot how much books mean to NamJoon. He sacrifices some of his food and transportation budget to afford them, but they enable him “to endure the weight of the world he’s forced to bear on his shoulders.” After realizing this, SeokJin wants to apologize for carelessly sympathizing with the reality that NamJoon has weathered alone.

The next episode is from NamJoon’s perspective, revealing his excitement over being able to purchase a book for the first time in two months. He wants to buy two but can only afford one. The employee at the register sighs and asks why he leafed through a book he wasn’t going to buy. NamJoon apologizes, and she mutters, “So dirty.” He notices his reflection, clothes worn and smelling of gasoline, and realizes she’s talking about him, not the book. He tries to shake off these depressing thoughts, but he is still not accustomed to this treatment despite experiencing it regularly at work. As NamJoon begins to exit the store, the security alarm goes off. The employees demand to check his bag despite his insistence that he didn’t steal anything. Their certainty of his theft angers him. NamJoon allows them to look through his bag, and they are suspicious of the like-new book in it which he brought from home. One begins to call the police until SeokJin appears, vouching for NamJoon by saying he saw everything. The employees accept that the alarm malfunctioned and excuse their suspicions as a mistake.

Outside, SeokJin asks NamJoon if he is all right. NamJoon is thankful but wonders how SeokJin materialized right when he needed him. “How’d you find me here?” he asks aloud. SeokJin explains that he happened to notice him while walking through the neighborhood. NamJoon wonders if it’s because they said goodbye on a weird note last time. He thanks him and turns to leave. SeokJin calls after him. “I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you that day at the gas station. It was a mistake to have called you pitiful. If my rash actions hurt you, I’m really sorry.” NamJoon accepts his apology, believing it to be sincere, and says that things would have turned out a lot worse if SeokJin had not intervened. Thunder rolls overhead, and NamJoon uses the impending rain as his excuse to depart. He declines SeokJin’s offer of a ride and runs home, feeling his friend’s eyes on him.

Before he can settle down to read at home, NamJoon receives a call from his cheerful mother. She thanks him for paying off the entire hospital bill. NamJoon is perplexed and asks what’s on the receipt, since he didn’t pay it. His mother wants to leave it be, but he insists that they investigate so they don’t get in trouble or sued. She reads that the Songho Foundation is credited as the payer. NamJoon calls the hospital, introducing himself as the guardian for Kim YoungMin, but they can’t transfer him to the administrative department at this time. Disappointed, he looks up the foundation’s website, unable to recall why it sounds familiar. He wonders why a scholarship foundation in the city would get involved with him. Spotting photos of a recent launch ceremony on the site, he recognizes a few people: Songju High School’s principal, the familiar-looking face of the foundation’s chairman, and SeokJin. First, NamJoon forces a laugh, and then it’s difficult for him to breathe. He thinks that SeokJin really had pitied him at that moment. The only thing keeping NamJoon going is the idea of getting through life on his own strength. Why does he have to live like this?

The last episode opens on 5 May back in SeokJin’s perspective. He is confident now that he has saved NamJoon, although it occurs to him that a better alternative may have been to simply pick up the money himself instead of stepping forward. (This decision is enacted in a later loop and depicted in the Euphoria MV.) While reflecting on what comes next to save his other friends, he receives a text from NamJoon. “What’s your account number? I’ll pay you back for the hospital bills. I don’t need your help. I’ll handle my concerns on my own.” Heart sinking, SeokJin wonders how he found out. With a sense of foreboding, he tries calling NamJoon, but no one answers. SeokJin texts him back, pretending that he doesn’t understand, and tells NamJoon to call him. SeokJin’s second attempt connects while he’s gathering his car keys to visit the container. “That’s enough. Just send the account number over text,” NamJoon instructs. SeokJin coaxes him to talk for a moment, and NamJoon asks flatly, “Are you going to apologize again?” SeokJin attempts to salvage the situation, but his friend turns cold when he insists that NamJoon is misunderstanding and that he just wanted to help. “So, why? Why are you helping me?! Yeah, you’re always a good person. You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m the one misunderstanding.” SeokJin apologizes again. NamJoon refuses his request to meet in person. “No, I thought maybe there was a reason for everything you did… But I guess I misconstrued it. I’ll pay you back, so I’d prefer if you stopped contacting me.” Long after the call ends, SeokJin stands holding his phone, feeling that the glass is going to break at any moment. He wants to believe that it’s not over, but hope is slipping through his fingertips.

The episode finishes in NamJoon’s perspective. On 8 May and 9 May, he accepts part-time delivery work and reflects on his three jobs. Whenever he thinks he’s at his breaking point, he focuses on his new goal of returning SeokJin’s money. On 10 May, NamJoon wakes up to his buzzing phone and is called in to work. On a scooter, he passes by a bus stop and notices graffiti. (This is the same bus stop, with matching graffiti, that appears in the Highlight Reel.) Mesmerized, he wonders if it’s TaeHyung’s. As soon as NamJoon looks up, the scooter’s brake fails, and he crashes. The shattered glass on the cold pavement reminds him of the headlight shard and the kid who looked like TaeHyung. (So the piece of glass SeokJin saw in April was really a memento NamJoon retrieved from the scene of the crash in the mountain town, where the delivery boy whom he privately called TaeHyung died. This event is described in NamJoon’s 17 December Year 21 entry in The Notes 1.) NamJoon’s vision grows blurry, and the distant sound of an ambulance doesn’t come any closer.

The arc concludes there, but it obviously marks another reset for SeokJin. It is interesting to note that in this failed loop, NamJoon suffers the same fate that he narrowly avoided in the snowy mountain town before returning to Songju.

Please stay tuned for the next Highlights post featuring JungKook and YoonGi!

[pagingevilspawn]

Would you please write a fic about alex behaviour with children like the way he comforts them or help them through?

heart of gold

hey there! i’m not gonna lie when i say that this prompt took me forever to figure out, but when i did i was super excited! 

this is mainly Alex centric with a bit of jolex added in (obviously). i hope you like it!

___

Of all people to notice Alex Karev’s strange ability to work well with children first, no one would’ve expected it to be Cristina Yang. 

It was fairly early in their intern year, and both she and Karev were on the pediatrics rotation with Dr. Keith, someone who they could both agree was an arrogant son of a bitch that thought way too highly of himself for his own good. 

They’d been trailing behind him like lost puppies all day, listening to him go on and on while he talked to the patient’s families, not even bothering to ask his interns any questions. He always thought that interns were a waste of time and space. He’s much rather have at least a third year resident on his service, but no such luck. They felt like crap and both wanted to kick the guy in the ass, but knew that the only thing that would do is get them knocked out of the program. 

Six hours into their shift, the two were about to head to the cafeteria for a much desired lunch break when their pagers rang out, loud groans escaping their mouths at the noise they had come to detest the last couple of weeks. 

All Alex really wanted was a slice of the hospital’s pizza. Granted, the crust tasted like cardboard, the cheese was old, and the sauce had no flavor, but he was craving it like crazy. He hadn’t gone out for groceries recently, so the only thing that was stocked in the shelves of his small apartment was cereal, some oatmeal, and off brand, nearly expired crackers that he had since he finished med school a couple of months ago. He had --for some unknown reason-- shoved them into a backpack that had made it with him as he traveled from Iowa to Washington, completely untouched. 

With a huff he turns on his heel and makes his way to the pit where he was being paged, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the nurse he disrespected on his first day, along with the ones he’d slept with and hadn’t called back. He had a pretty large list of nurses who didn’t like him, and he didn’t feel like making that list any longer. Not today, at least. 

Keith instructed him to go cast an arm for the seven year old in bed six, while Yang was told to go stitch up the cut on the little girl in bed two. 

When Alex was done he passed by Yang’s area, watching as she was trying to calm down the little girl who couldn’t be more than five. The girl had tears streaming down her face and was nuzzled into the mom’s chest. The mother was glaring at the female doctor, who was saying something Alex could make out as ���it’s not even scary, it’s just a needle.” 

All he really wanted to do was get that damn pizza slice, and he had every intention of doing so, but seeing Yang be absolutely hopeless at getting anywhere with the little girl, he felt a bit of sympathy-- not for his fellow intern, but for the kid. 

With a sigh he strides over to the bed, watching as the raven head’s mouth opens to speak, cutting her off immediately. “Let me handle this.” he says, reaching to grab the needle from her head. 

Cristina glares at him, her expression turning into one of disgust. No way was she going to let Evil Spawn steal her patient, no matter how much she wished she’d be doing anything else. 

“Karev-”

“--Yang!” he cuts her off sharply, plucking the needle from her hand and bumping her out of the way. Not the nicest thing to do, but she was practically terrifying the little girl. There was no way she would trust the doctor now. 

His coworker scoffs, huffing a ‘fine’ before she goes to stand back and watch the scene, more than eager to watch the man fail. What good could he do? The girl was crying the second she had taken the disinfectant out. 

Alex pulls up a chair, grabbing the attention of the little girl, who looks up from her mother’s chest for a second, only to dive back in right after. 

“Hey kid, my name’s Doctor Karev. You mind telling me your’s?” he asks gently, slipping on a pair of gloves and flashing a signature crooked grin. 

The girl makes eye contact warily, slightly unlatching from her mom's tight hold at the sight of the man’s smile. The other doctor looked super serious, it was kind of scary. 

“Piper.” she answers, wiping the tears from under her eyes, the mom flashing him a grateful smile. 

“Hey Piper.” he grins. “I see you got hurt up there. What happened?” he wettens the pad with disinfectant, keeping his eyes on the little blonde, knowing it would mean less questions if she was focused on his face. 

“I was jumping on the couch and then I fell and hit the table.” she explains, Alex inspecting the cut to see if her story was reliable. He knew firsthand what it was like to come up with excuses for the bruises on your face, and wanted to make sure that she wasn’t just trying to cover up for something else that happened. 

Luckily, the combination of the authenticity of the bruise and the level of trust the daughter had in her mom let him know that she really did do what she said. He knew at some point he was gonna need to not assume the worst in every parent that came in with an injured kid, but the wound was still fresh for him, and it would take some time to heal-- a long time.

“Well then Piper, I’m gonna need to clean your cut, but it’s gonna sting a bit. Is that okay?” he asks her, her green eyes widening, but eventually nodding. The doctor seemed nice enough. 

He cleans the wound, turning back at the girl when he pulls out a needle, watching as her face begins to look panicked. “Hey, it’s okay.” he reassures her. His eyes dart around, noticing a backpack that sat in the corner, decorated with a multitude of princesses. 

“Who’s your favorite princess?” he asks her, drawing Piper’s attention away from the scary needle in his hands. 

“Belle.” she answers, a small smile making its way to her face. She loved talking about the princess’s and would chatter on about them anytime, any day, anywhere.  

Alex smirks, letting out a sigh of relief. He knew all about Belle, since it was Amber’s all time favorite Disney movie. He’d seen it more time than he’d like to admit, and practically had the whole film memorized since he was fourteen.

“I like Belle too. She’s super brave huh? Never afraid of the Beast or anything.” he gives her a smile, watching as Piper’s face lights up, a wide, toothless smile splayed on her lips. 

“Yeah! She’s so cool! She never lets the beast tell her what to do!” she exclaims, making Alex chuckle. She reminded Alex a lot of his little sister, with her dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and passion for princesses. 

“Okay, well, right now I’m gonna need you to be super brave like Belle alright? And sit really really still, like she does when she reads a book. Can you do that for me Piper?” he smirks mischievously. 

The little girl grins. She always wanted to be like her favorite princess, so she definitely wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to act like one. She already practiced around the house, so she was definitely going to practice in front of the nice doctor who looked like Prince Philip.  

Cristina stood frozenly in the background, mouth opened so wide it could catch flies. Who knew Karev was so good with kids? She sure as hell didn’t.  

She watches as he stitches up the cut, saying some reassuring words every time the girl flinches or squeezes her eyes shut. It was about twenty minutes later when he finished, Yang still standing there in shock. She sees him dress the wound, getting up from his chair and say, “All done. You did awesome Piper, but no more jumping on the couch, alright?” which earns him a nod. He flashes a friendly wink to the mom, who blushes as he walks away, forgetting entirely about Yang’s presence as he makes his way to the cafeteria to finally get his hands on the pizza slice he’s been drooling about for hours.

Maybe Evil Spawn wasn’t so evil after all. 

~*~

Miranda Bailey was exhausted. Between Tuck and trying to begin a pediatric fellowship, all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep for god knows long. Tucker being difficult about their shared custody schedule seemed to only add to her fatigue and she swore on her life that she could crash on the nearest gurney and not wake up for three days straight. 

It was with a heavy sigh she begrudgingly made her way back down to the NICU, remembering that she had left Karev there the day before after administering the kangaroo hold. She knew that by now he had probably dispersed, but she felt like checking on the little baby herself, just to make sure that the preemie was doing okay.

When she arrived at the NICU doors she could see a few faces that she recognized standing outside the window, talking in hushed conversations as they stared at the scene in front of them with imploring eyes, that is, until the one she knew as Reed rushed away-- a friend at her side, finishing their conversation quickly. 

Miranda shakes her head. Though she had softened over the years, everyone still feared the inner ‘Nazi’ that came out from time to time. When she finishes gowning herself she makes her way into the room, stopping in front of the shirtless, sleeping figure on a chair. Surprised was the only word she was able to come up with, though it seemed like an understatement of the century. Alex Karev was sitting there, with a sleeping baby curled contently against his chest, her tiny breaths in sync with the man who was holding her. 

She shakes her head, stopping a few feet from where the man sat. “Karev?” she says, making him open his groggy eyes, blinking as he does so to look around for the source of the noise, relaxing when he knows that no monitors are going off and the baby on his chest is still very much alive. 

“Did you stay here all night?” she asks softly, watching as he looks out the window to see that it was in fact daytime, not evening like it was before he’d fallen asleep.

He takes another look at the baby in his arms, “Um, yeah. I… I guess I did.” he trails off, his voice rough since he barely was awake.  

“Go home, get some rest. The nurse will take over for you.” Miranda scolds. These interns (who were now residents) were like her children, her babies, and as much as the sight warmed her heart, she needed her babies to be well rested. She couldn’t have them falling asleep in the middle of surgery. 

He unintentionally pulls the tiny bundle of pink a bit closer, “No. Uh, I- I’m okay. I’m… good here.” 

She lets out a small, barely there laugh, but not at him. She’d seen the soft side of Alex Karev, but it was few and far between. Everyone knew that the rough exterior he put up was just to stop himself from getting hurt, but this… this side was new. She had never seen him more vulnerable than he was right now, the baby sleeping so soundly on his chest that it seemed like no amount of noise could disturb her. 

“Well, you'd be good in Peds, you know that?” she flicks her gaze from him to the baby. “You get invested. You have good instincts. You stick to your instincts,” she continues, Alex looking down at the child, making some kind of face she wouldn’t know how to describe. 

“You’d be good in Peds, Karev.” she walks away, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts. 

Maybe, just maybe, kids would be the one thing that would allow Karev to show everyone who he really was. 

~*~         

Alex Karev had sort of snuck up on Arizona Robbins. When he said that he was interested in Peds, she truly thought that he was joking, just trying to say something to either get a laugh out of her or annoy her. 

She didn’t know much about Karev, all she really knew was what she had heard from the nurses gossiping loudly at their stations, and the occasional input from Callie here and there. All she really knew was that he had been married to Stevens, who had cancer, then they later got divorced, and before he was married he had earned himself quite a bit of a ‘man-whore’ reputation, nearly as bad as Mark’s. 

Arizona was weary about Karev, so imagine her surprise when she saw his face light up as a kid called him Doctor Alex for the first time. 

The first time she’d ever had the young man on her service she knew that he was cold, arrogant, and a bit too cocky for his own good. He was overall an asshole, and to say Robbins wasn’t happy to have him on her service was an understatement. Bailey had said something to her recently about Karev, but that didn’t lessen her lack of enjoyment about his upcoming arrival on her floor. 

When the man did arrive, he was seven minutes late for rounds, dumping an empty cup of hospital bought coffee in the nearest trash can. He flashed her a crooked grin, apologizing for his tardiness, but not explaining why.

Arizona sighed, rolling her eyes discreetly. She wasn’t normally a strict teacher, but one thing she didn’t like was when her residents were late. The lives of tiny humans were in their hands, no second could be wasted-- much less seven minutes.

“Welcome to peds Doctor Karev…” She starts off, telling him about how pediatrics wasn’t wiping kid’s noses and cuddly bunnies all day long. Peds was hardcore, only for the elite. 

She stops outside room 414, turning back to Karev and giving him as stern of a glare as she could muster. “Remember Karev, smile, engage. These are kids we’re talking about here.” 

Alex rolls his eyes. He knew he wasn’t the nicest guy. He was an ass, a douche, and definitely not the man most women would be proud to take home to their parents. But if there was one thing he did know, it was kids. He practically raised one for god’s sake.  

“Got it Robbins.” he huffs, fixing his posture as the two walk into the room, where a little boy sat on his bed, playing with his colorful toys that sat on his lap, anxious parents sitting in chairs beside him. 

Arizona flashes a grin to the family, directing her attention back to the boy. “Hi Nico, how are we doing today?” 

Nico shrugs, mustering a half-hearted smile. “I’m okay.” he answers, more focused on his toys than the doctors in the room.

“Well that’s good,” she jots something down on her chart. “This is Dr. Alex. He’s gonna be another one of your doctors, okay Nico?” 

“Doctor Alex?” the boy confirms, making Arizona look up from her chart and Alex look back at the boy. 

She saw it then. The way his eyes lit up at the name, how a crooked grin unconsciously made its way to his lips. He had it. The peds glow. 

“Hey dude.” Alex smirks, trying to hide is bubbling excitement. He liked that name, ‘Doctor Alex’. It was different from Karev. It was lighter, easier, it sounded right. Doctor Karev was too… but Doctor Alex? Doctor Alex sounded pretty great. 

Arizona bites her lip as she watches her resident and the patient interact, trying to keep her smile at bay. 

There it is. There’s the real Alex Karev. 

~*~ 

Jo Wilson sat in the intern’s locker room, knotting up the ties of her scrub pants as she listened to the chief resident rattle of names of who the intern’s were with that day. She was more than thankful for a new service, since Medusa was downright terrifying, but she was really hoping that she wouldn’t be assigned to-

“--Wilson you’re with Doctor Karev on Peds.”

Shit. 

She was sure Karev was a great doctor, I mean, he wouldn’t be here-- at one of the best hospitals in the world-- if he sucked. 

But she’d already heard enough about Karev to say that she didn’t like him, not one bit. So far she’d witnessed Leah crying into her locker about why he wouldn’t answer her calls, nurses complain to each other about why he hadn’t texted, and other interns chattering at bars about why he acted like he didn’t know them when they saw each other again.

In conclusion, he was a grade-A jackass who slept with any female that had two legs, and she was certainly not going to be the next one on his (extensive) list of conquests. No sir-ee. 

With a huff she ties her hair back, giving Stephanie a deadpan look after she whispers a “Good luck. Make sure not to sleep with him.” 

There was no way she would be sleeping with Karev, not in a million years. She had heard so much from others that she could already paint a picture-

Ew, no. That’s gross. 

Either way, there was nothing he could ever say to make her fall in bed with him. Nothing at all. 

…

She was exhausted. Karev was an ass. An ass who didn’t hate her, but was still an insufferable asshole. Jo stood at the nurses station, leaning over the counter as she filled out her charts, scribbling down her notes angrily. He made her angry. 

Though she had to admit, seeing him all freaked out over her (fake) crying was pretty hilarious. 

“--Wilson!” she hears her name being called by her asshole of a superior. She turns around, plastering such a faux smile on her face that she felt nauseated just knowing that it was there. 

She’s about to respond when Doctor Grey comes running up to him, shoving a toddler in his arms, taking him by surprise. 

“Alex. I need you to watch her.” the blonde pleads, making him scrunch his eyebrows. 

“Mer I-” 

“Please.” Meredith begs, Alex giving her a crooked grin as he takes ahold of his niece. If there was one thing that could make Alex Karev smile without even trying, it was Zola Grey Shepherd, a two and a half year old little fireball.  

A large grin comes across the little girl’s face as she looks at the man in front of her. “Unca Lex!” she exclaims, clasping her tiny hand on the side of his face. 

“Hi Ms. Zozo,” he smiles, Jo not even noticing how the corner’s of her mouth quirked up at the sight. This was not the Doctor Karev she’d been with these past few hours, this was someone completely new. This was… Alex? 

Meredith sighs. “I have on OB appointment, and normally we’d take her, but she’s just been so fussy lately, and when I tried to take her to daycare she threw a fit-”

Alex cuts her off, “Mer, it's fine. I got her.” he reassures her, pretending to bite the little girl’s finger as it came close to his face, causing her to let out a loud squeal. 

“Okay but-”

He rolls his eyes at the blonde, “Mer, go. She’ll be completely fine.” he smirks. “We all know that she likes me better than you and Shep combined so…” 

Meredith hits him on the shoulder before she turns and waddles down the hall, leaving Alex with a toddler in his arms that was giggling as he tickled her, and an intern who wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing in front of her. 

It was obvious that he had some skills with children, he was a pediatric surgeon for crying out loud. But nobody told her he was this good with kids.She watched as a large smile came across his face, a laugh escaping his mouth at Zola’s squeals and giggles. 

Maybe Alex Karev wasn’t as much of an asshole that she thought he was. 

~*~ 

Nothing was more perfect to him than the sight in front of him. 

Never in a million years did he ever think that he would get to where he was now. 

Alex sat next to his wife as they stared down at the little baby on her chest, her pink cheeks puffed up while her eyes were tightly squeezed closed as she tried to sleep. She was so perfect. So, so perfect.  

A daughter. 

He had a daughter. 

A little bundle of pink that weighed a whole six pounds, seven ounces. Yet somehow, she had managed to take his heart out of his chest and hold it in her tiny, tiny palm. 

Nothing could’ve prepared him for how much he already loved his little girl. He’d heard about it, read about it. He’d been in the room when parents met their child for the first time. But this? This was a whole new level of love, something he wasn’t prepared for in the slightest. 

He watched as Jo ran her thumb delicately over the baby girl’s cheeks, tears streaming down Jo’s face. It had been all of two minutes since they welcomed their daughter into the world and she hadn’t stopped crying since. 

Although he wasn’t crying, his throat was built up as he stared at his perfect little girl. A full head of wavy light brown hair sat on top of her head, her rosy lips pouted as she nestled closer to her mother’s chest. 

Perfect. 

That’s the only word that could describe the tiny figure that laid before him.

He rubs his pinky finger over her little fist, watching as it unfolds and grabs it with all of her strength. 

He can feel his heart physically clench, never before had something felt as right as feeling his little girl’s palm around his finger. 

Alex grins, placing a small kiss on the top of Jo’s head, a silent way of saying so many different things at once. 

Thank you. 

You did so well. 

You’re so strong. 

She’s so perfect. 

I love you.

Thank you for marrying me.

Thank you for loving me. 

Thank you for everything.  

Thank you.

Jo readjusts the baby on her chest, bringing her up higher for them to see. 

She lets out a watery smile, her bottom lips trembling as she stares at the tiny girl that she would do anything for. “Hi sweet girl.” she whispers, not even bothering to wipe the water droplets that cascaded down her cheeks. 

Alex lets out a crooked grin, a small laugh escaping his throat in disbelief. This perfect creation was his daughter. How was that even possible?  

“Welcome to the world Lorelei Karev.” he whispers, unable to focus on anything except the tiny girl that he would give up the sun, the moon, and the stars for. 

“We love you so much.” Jo speaks softly, looking up at her husband, the love of her life, her eyes saying more than her mouth ever could. 

Thank you. 

I love you. 

She’s so perfect. 

Thank you for her. 

Thank you for everything. 

Thank you for loving me. 

Thank you.  

They share a small kiss, reveling in the moment they knew they would remember for the rest of their lives. 

It was then he defied all odds. Overcame all of his fears. He wasn’t going to be like his dad, what everyone told him he was going to be. He was going to be an amazing dad, and he knew it.

As it turns out, kids truly were the one thing that could show everyone who the real Alex Karev was after all.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Enchant Me

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.5K (sorry!) Warning: None  Author’s Note: AU where Ethan is the one asking MC questions for the fMRI scan (book 1, ch 6).

Catch up here.

_____________

Green eyes meet his briefly before hurriedly glancing away, the movement so fleeting that he could have attributed it to his imagination. Except, the way his stomach flutters as a result is very real and very annoying to Ethan. When at last he forces his treasonous mind to the task at hand, he determines she is nervous, the tense energy radiating from her almost palpable in the bright imaging lab. 

Guilt takes root in his stomach as he begins to regret asking this of her. The flimsy request for her help, blurted out after he reluctantly turned down her party invitation, seems downright embarrassing now. What the hell had he been thinking? 

He pauses to consider that therein lies the problem: He hadn't been thinking. What a dangerous and inane side effect of being in her presence. What a humbling yet disconcerting notion that all it takes to disarm an intelligent, highly educated man is a pair of clever, emerald eyes, a lovely dusting of freckles, and a pretty smile. 

Ethan opens his mouth to offer himself up as the subject instead, but Lilac gives him a brave, determined half smile. Her cheeks flush and he can see the visible effort she spends in getting the words out. “There is no dignified way of saying this, so please don't fire me,” she begins, not looking at him. 

“I won't fire you for changing your mind, Rookie.”

Lilac shakes her head. “It's not that. It's just that I'll need an injection of the magnetic contrast media…” Her eyes swivel to meet his pointedly, as though expecting him to catch her meaning from it. 

Ethan is not following and that much must be evident in his face because she sighs. 

“I can't have any metal on me,” she continues, face growing bright pink to the root of her dark hair. “So I'll have to remove my bra.”

Silence. 

“I… Erm... That's…” Ethan's ears flare with heat, his throat feeling suddenly dry. “That's true. I'll leave the room.”

“No need,” she assures him, already peeling off her coat. Before Ethan can even react, she reaches behind her back and under her blouse. 

He is momentarily frozen, eyes watching her expertly work the clasps, before hastily turning his back on her and busying himself with the gadolinium. The way his heart clamors wildly at his ears is guarantee enough of the sinful thoughts his mind will torture him with later, thoughts of Lilac undressing in many different ways for him. 

Get it together, Ramsey. 

“I'm ready,” she announces to his sheer relief. 

That relief is short-lived, however, when his eyes catch a glimpse of the lacy, bright red garment on the floor, unsuccessfully concealed by her discarded lab coat. Every inch of his traitorous body reacts on sight, reducing him to just another weak-willed man, uninhibited by the mere sight of a bra. 

Lilac, meanwhile, watches him from where she lays on the table, decent enough in her loose fitting blouse. That lopsided smirk of hers makes a reappearance and it only makes his thoughts sputter further. 

“Stay still,” he manages to instruct, his voice quiet and gentle. 

When his fingers palpate the veins in her arms, Ethan struggles to think of much else but the feel of her soft skin against his, incinerating his fingertips. He makes the mistake of meeting her eyes, finding that all traces of humor are long gone as she watches him, lips slightly parted. A white hot current of tension crackles between them, dangerous and capable of consuming him whole. With a surge of recklessness, he finds that he wants it to. The blazing look she fixes him with makes Ethan wonder if she wants it too. 

Swallowing hard, Ethan forces himself to glance away. 

After a brief pause, she teases, “You do know how to perform an intravenous injection, don't you?” 

“Ha. Ha,” he returns sarcastically. Her own genuine laughter rings around the imaging lab. 

Ethan injects her with ease and presses the button to slide the table inside the magnet enclosure, hiding that infuriatingly distracting smile from view. Soon after, he sits at the workstation, checking on Lilac through the glass and powering up the magnet. 

“How's it looking up there, Doc?” 

“Like a brain,” he says dryly. 

“So...average?” 

“Very average.” 

“Ouch.”

Ethan allows a resigned grin, shaking his head and feeling a wide lightness spread in his chest. Silence ensues after their banter and he realizes she waits for his question. 

A thrill shoots through his core at the ocean of possibilities before him. At last, he can catch a true glimpse of the mystery she has proven to be. Isn't that what he longs to know the most ? Isn't the enigma that is Lilac Allende the true allure for him? Isn't that the reason he can't stop thinking about her? 

He can ask anything, and finally know the answer. 

“Do you prefer cats or dogs?” 

There is an anticlimactic pause and Ethan wants to slam his head against the console. 

Really, Ethan? Cats or dogs? 

Lilac is silent, so silent Ethan wonders if the speaker system is working. 

“That's the type of question you have for me?” 

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Just answer it, Rookie.”

The image shows activity in the temporal lobe at the use of the nickname. 

“I like them both,” she answers before Ethan can interpret the previous reading. “Though dogs tend to love me almost instantly.”

An uninvited mental image of Jenner, paws on her chest, tail wagging at blurring speed upon meeting her, crosses his mind. Ethan dismisses it as an impossibility, unable to think of a scenario where both creatures would meet. 

“We have a family dog back in LA named Lobo,” she continues. 

“Wolf?” 

“The third,” she adds cheerfully. “My parents name all of our dogs Lobo or Oso.”

The memory elicits notable activity in the hippocampus. Ethan is unable to see her face but he finds the reminiscent lull of her voice utterly endearing. Catching his own reaction with a flare of annoyance, he dismisses it, clears his throat, and moves on to the next question. 

“What inspired you to become a doctor?” 

The longest pause yet befalls them. Already there is activity in the right temporal cortex, peaking his own curiosity. Every second that she doesn't answer is agony. 

Finally, she says, “Pass.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I pass on this question. I plead the fifth.”

“Overruled.”

“You can't do that,” she protests, though he can hear the laughter in her voice. 

“Just answer the question, Rookie.”

There is a loaded, tense silence that slowly tapers to a boiling point, then—

“You.” 

Ethan blinks, speechless. 

“Don't you remember?” she says, an edge of embarrassment dripping from her voice. “You signed Landry's book for me.”

“Who?” he blurts out. Not waiting for an answer, he asks, “Wait, so you didn't keep that book, Rookie? I am offended.”

“No, my copy is much more worn, annotated, and well-loved,” she explains with a chuckle. 

A small whirlwind of emotions takes root in Ethan, who is still at a loss for words. 

“In a literal sense, your research inspired me to go to med school,” she continues, interpreting his silence as encouragement to go on. “I read your book from cover to cover as an undergrad and was so inspired, for once in my life I knew where I had to go. I wanted to be here, at Edenbrook, working alongside the best.” 

Ethan's throat is tight as he listens, the activity in the scan completely forgotten. 

“The more sentimental reason I was inspired to be a doctor is, of course, my parents.” Lilac pauses and clears her throat as a pretense. “They– They came to this country in pursuit of a better life, leaving their family and everyone they loved behind. All to be in a brand new place, not knowing the language or the culture, often taking up backbreaking jobs for miserable pay...to be looked down by many as inferior. All that sacrifice, for us.” Her voice cracks at the last few words. It takes her a moment to recover. “That sacrifice drove me through my worst days in medical school. It's what drives me today.”

She says this with a renewed, fierce pride that evokes a surge of admiration from him. It tears through his chest unlike anything he has ever experienced before, but then again, she is unlike anything he had ever seen before. Wildly, he wishes they were sharing something so precious face to face. His hand flexes reflexively as his mind imagines sweeping a thumb across the ridge of her cheekbone. 

“If not a doctor, what career would you have chosen?” He is surprised by the gentleness of his own voice, the sound foreign to his ears. 

When she speaks, she sounds almost like her usual, cheeky self. “A beauty guru.” 

“A what?” 

“It's people online filming their makeup routines.”

Ethan has never heard of anything so pointless in his life. “Be serious.” 

“I am! There might still be some videos online of my failed attempts,” she says, laughing. “But in terms of a realistic career, I would've probably chosen to be a homicide detective or a forensic pathologist.”

He raises his eyebrows at this, stunned for a moment at their shared interest in detective work. “Why?” 

Lilac mulls over her answer in a characteristic silence. “Obviously, there is the allure of gathering evidence and solving a mystery.” A deliberate pause, then—“But I always thought that was a bit selfish.” 

“Selfish?” 

Ethan can't help the outburst. After all, connecting the pieces of an unknown puzzle is precisely why he once considered that career. 

“Yes, some doctors want to deliver the perfect diagnosis in a self-congratulatory way. To help the patient, yes, but to walk away with the gratification of having conquered a mystery.”

His itch to argue is quelled by his curiosity and so he says nothing. 

“I wanted to be a detective to solve the mystery as a way to fight for the voiceless.” Her voice drops to almost a whisper as she admits this. With a rush of satisfaction, Ethan realizes he is probably the first one hearing this reasoning. “There is something sick about being able to name notorious serial killers without a problem, but we can't do the same for their victims. They are the ones whose stories should be told, whose memories should be celebrated. They are the ones who deserve the accolades and the justice of finally solving that mystery.”

Ethan has no rebuttal for the first time in his life. 

As his brain struggles to reconcile the young doctor's words with the inexplicable thundering of his pulse, Lilac laughs. 

“No offense, Dr. Ramsey, but I was expecting a different line of questioning here.”

Ethan forces himself to recover. “How so?” 

“If I were asking you questions, I'd be a lot noisier,” she says, unabashed.

Ethan allows a chuckle. “That's not surprising,” he comments. “What type of questions would you be asking?” 

“I don't know…” She trails off pensively. “Maybe your type?”

Ethan's mouth goes slack. He recovers enough to say something, though he is not sure what. Luckily, he doesn't have to know because she continues, “I'd definitely ask about relationships, past and current.”

By this point, his heartbeat is an uproar in his hearing. The brash comments should be concerning coming from a subordinate but he feels like a fraud when he considers chastising her. Though he would never admit it out loud, the answers to those questions intrigue him to the point of restlessness. 

“Fine,” he allows quietly. “Answer those.”

A surprised little laugh comes through the speakers. “Really?” 

“Yes, let the record show this was your idea, Rookie,” he says in what he hopes is a casual tone. “What was the first one you mentioned? Ah, yes—What's your type?” 

The image of her brain activity, which Ethan had forgotten to glance at until that moment, lights up at the amygdala. An emotional response. 

He can sense the reluctance in her silence. 

“Tall. Definitely taller than me,” she begins at long last, her voice dignified, as though she is forcing herself to push past any bashfulness. “Dark hair.”

The answer is exasperatingly vague. The descriptors easily fit the surgical intern he saw her kiss all those weeks ago and the muscular paramedic who glances at her with besotted eyes every chance he gets. 

“Intelligent,” she continues. 

The diagnostician in him almost discounts Lahela on the sole basis of being a surgical intern. 

Lilac clears her throat so subtly, he almost attributes it to static in the speakers. “Someone with a dry sense of humor and sarcastic to a fault,” she says, a lot softer now. “Someone who can keep me on my toes.”

The scan displays activity in the frontal lobe, similar to what he saw when he called her “Rookie”. The small media room, despite having the air conditioner at full blast, feels suddenly sweltering. 

“What did I say next for my questions?” she asks, saving his mind from traveling a dangerous path. 

“Relationships.” 

“Right,” she says with an exhale. 

Ethan says nothing, afraid even the slightest sound will discourage her. 

“Past relationships are… complicated and mercifully ancient history.” On his screen, he sees the most activity yet. A visible reaction in the right hippocampus, the amygdala, both sides of the prefrontal cortex, and the insular cortex— undeniable anger. 

Lilac, however, does not elaborate any further. Instead, she hurries on, “Current relationships are also complicated, frustrating, and nonexistent.” 

The words hang between them, like a pendulum. He is convinced they carry more meaning but Ethan's own brain feels abuzz with activity, too tumultuous to formulate follow up questions. When his eyes fall on the clock, he notes they have been at this for almost an hour. 

“I think we're done here,” he says. 

He leaves the media room, deliberately pausing outside the imaging lab to give Lilac enough time to put all of her clothes back on. By the time he enters the room, she is throwing on her coat, hands raking through her shiny hair. 

“Everything working okay?” 

“Like a charm,” he responds, mind still spinning. 

An incessant stab of dread begins to pierce through him as they prepare to go back to work. His mind wanders to Naveen, weak and alone in his room, and icy twines of fear take root deep in Ethan’s stomach once again. 

“Thank you… for the assistance.”

Lilac flashes him an easy smile. “Any time.”

Ethan manages an awkward nod turning to leave. Something powerful holds him back before he can take another step. As full fledged panic about facing Naveen's new symptoms grips him, he wants nothing more than to confide in her. 

He stops and turns to face her. 

Lilac tilts her head to one side, watching him curiously. 

The magnitude of what he is about to do hits him like a train and his newfound courage vanishes at once. With a grimace, he waves the idea off and exits the room. 

______

Author’s Note: A HUGE thank you to everyone who sent me questions Ethan could ask. I tried my best to include them here. 

“Do you prefer cats or dogs?”-- @drethanramslay

“What inspired you to become a doctor?” -- Anon and @scorpiochick8

“If not a doctor, what career would you have chosen?” @scorpiochick8

The not so subtle questions about her love life-- @eramsey28

Answering the career question wit banter, then with a serious answer. -- @whippedforethanramsey 

Ethan’s slightly jealous thoughts about Bryce and Raf-- @schnitzelbutterfingers 

Sorry if I didn’t include all requests! This would have been 20 pages long if I hadn’t trimmed some of it lol. 

I swapped some of the dialogue from the original. Also, I’m so sorry to @takeharryandgo​ for the horrible brain science here. Forgive me, Doc.

What Lilac said about her parents is exactly how I feel about mine. So I just had to include that here.  

Finally, I intend to continue these from Ethan’s POV. However, for personal reasons, I will keep my next few projects under wraps. 

______

Tags:  @openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @noboundariesplease​ | @silverlitskies​ | @infinitiestones | @flyawayboo​ | @paulfwesley​ | @hatescapsicum​ | @myusualnerdyself​ | @thatysn​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​ | @chasingrobbie​ | @trappedinfandoms​ | @togetherwearerapture​ | @nooruleman​ | @caseyvalentineramsey​ | @axwalker​ | @parkerattano​ | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ | @kaavyaethanramsey​ | @edith-eggs1​ | @choices-lurker​ | @jens-diamondchoices​ | @tefigranger​ | @ethanrcmsey​ | @coffeebeandragon​ | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey​ | @aestheticartwriting​ | @binny1985​ | @mvalentine​ | @sanchita012​ | @drethanramslay​ | @ramseysno1rookie​ | @takeharryandgo​ | @aworldoffandoms​ | @desmaranj​ | @ josieplayschoices | @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor | @oofchoices​ | @ethxnrxmsey​ | @octobereighth​ | @colossalpainintheass | @kopenheart12​ | @lilyvalentine​ | @honeyandsunfl0wers​ | @virtualrain202 | @enmchoices​ | @tyrilstouch​ | @rookie-ramsey​​

@dulceghernandez |  @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

[closetfanfictionauthor]

a university au in which genya is a fashion major and david is an engineering student and neither of them are brave enough to admit their feelings to each other but it works out in the end anyway.

(i was working on another story but i just finished re-reading the series and then i binged the show and it was just CALLING to me. this was meant to be like 2k words but it quite got away from me)

this is also on ao3

She meets David when she's looking for a table in the university library to complete a paper on fashion history and he is the only one with an available seat. And because she's Genya and beautiful and unafraid to approach anyone, she asks him if he wouldn't mind sharing the table with her.

David gives her a very distracted yes and she flashes him one of her smiles that's sent men stammering before gracefully sliding into the seat.

What she doesn't know is that a glimpse of her was enough to send David's heart into rapid palpitations and his palms immediately begin to sweat. But he's got to stay focused on his problem set because he fears if he looks at her head-on he might actually have a heart attack right where he sits.

And wouldn't that just be embarrassing.

She expects him to ogle at her like men usually do, but from where she's sitting he looks focused on his own problems, a slight wrinkle in his forehead as he glares at his laptop screen and huffs in irritation. But they sit in silence for three hours and David never looks her way. On the rare occasion he can drag his attention away from his screen long enough to notice she's even there, it feels as if he's looking right through her.

And she should feel relieved. Comfortable. Because he's not doing anything to make her feel uncomfortable. It should be nice.

And she's beyond irritated. Genya can't decide if it's because her ego is really that big that it takes offense to the first man who doesn't notice her or if it's because she finds him so attractive it makes her want to burst out of her skin and he's making it very obvious that he's not interested in her.

She doesn't know which one is worse.

He leaves without a word and she has to sit there and force herself to act like she doesn't notice the vacant seat across from her or why, for some reason, she feels so lonely.

Afterwards, Genya begins to notice David all around campus in ways she didn't before. And every time he's always alone, rarely is he surrounded by anyone she could assume is his friend. David never acknowledges her, never says hi, and she likewise pretends she never sees him.

But one day Genya is studying in the library again. At this point she's developed a sixth sense when it comes to David and the second he steps foot into the library, she knows. Her muscles tense and something in Genya's gut is telling her David is here and to look for him.

She forces herself to relax and shrug it off but only a few moments later, a shadow falls over her and she blinks up in confusion. David stands there, fidgeting from foot to foot, his hands traveling from the hem of his crewneck to his hair to the nape of his neck. He looks so uncomfortable and awkward it's endearing and she's tempted between saving him the anxiety and saying something and letting him stew in the feeling.

"Is it alright if I sit with you. Library's full," he mutters quietly, eyes darting around to the others sitting nearby. Genya forces the corners of her mouth not to twitch upwards like they so desperately want to and calmly nods before turning back to her work. Today she's working on sketching some designs for class.

David shrugs out of his bag and pulls out the chair across from her, all the while avoiding eye contact. Genya looks back at her sketch and picks up another colouring pencil. The whole time she pretends like there isn't an available table three tables over, or another one less than five metres behind David. The library is certainly full but it's not that full.

He could sit somewhere else but he chooses to sit with her and that makes her sit up a little straighter.

After about the second hour of working in silence, David starts to fidget. It's like he's working up the courage to do something but can't quite bring himself to do it. Genya can see him shift in his seat but pretends she doesn't notice. He crosses and uncrosses his legs, slouches in his seat before straightening up again. David opens his textbook, stares at the page blankly and then closes it again and turns back to his laptop.

There's a burning need in Genya to ask what he wants, the question is on the tip of her tongue but something about David tells her if she asks he'll shut down.

Finally David clears his throat and when Genya looks at him, he points to one of her sketches and says in a grave tone usually reserved for imparting condolences, "I really like this one, I'm not one for colours or anything but I like the yellow and brown."

It's the most he's ever said...well...ever.

"Thank you, that one's my favourite too," Genya replies warmly, a smile spreading across her face. In truth it wasn't her favourite creation but it was David's favourite and now it was hers.

She thinks that's all he's going to say and turns back to her drawing but David has mustered all his courage and he seems determined to have out with it and asks her, "What are you making these for?"

"It's for my Fashion Design class. I'm a fashion major," Genya says and blushes a pretty pink at the statement. There's nothing wrong with fashion. People wear clothes. They like looking nice. Genya wants to be a part of that process and yet she can't help feeling silly telling people she studies fashion. But David doesn't look at her as if it's stupid or as if she's dumb, an intent look on his face as he gives her all his attention.

"Do you...do you like fashion design? Is it one of your favourite classes?" he asks her awkwardly. She wants to giggle at the way he looks at her as if she's about to impart the meaning of life to him. But Genya stops herself, because David is making an effort. And she doesn't know this man but she's pieced together enough to know that socializing doesn't come easy to David. Knows enough that underneath that quiet almost stern demeanor his heart is probably pounding from making small talk and she won't be the one to hurt his feelings or discourage his attempt.

She just wishes his shyness didn't make her go soft as pudding inside.

"I love it a lot actually. My favourite aspect is that you get to be creative with whatever you want to design, there's no limit and you don't have to worry that anything will be too outlandish because it's just a sketch and you're not actually wasting any fabric on it. They really push you to your limits on this class, always encouraging us to push the boundaries of style and creativity. It doesn't matter how crazy it is just so we can get used to-" Genya stopped abruptly and feels heat spreading across her face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on like that."

"Why are you apologizing?" David asks, frowning in his confusion.

"I got carried away, I'm sure you were looking for a shorter answer," Genya replies. She might as well have told him she's been told to shut up by other people before for talking too much about her passion.

"If I didn't want to hear your thoughts, then I wouldn't have asked," David says matter-of-factly. He sits patiently, looking at her expectantly. She blinks at him and then continues, stuttering at first and then becoming more confident as David continues to gaze at her, riveted. He doesn't interrupt her as she gushes about her sketches, her ideas, the specifics of fabrics and stitching, even going so far as to ask follow up questions.

What's her favourite fabric to work with, is there a designer she's particularly fond of, what kind of film she thinks has the best costumes? And the questions go on.

"I don't really know what I wanna do after, maybe work for a designer, maybe go into costume design for Hollywood," Genya says, finally going quiet.

"I think you'd be a great costume designer," David says with all sincerity and gives her a wide smile. And saints, that smile. It completely changes his face and does things to her insides that she can't voice.

"You think?" she asks and immediately wants to kick herself. What was that breathy voice that just came out of her.

"Yeah, some of these are so creative and different, I think it would serve you well on a set," David says as he picks up some of her sketches and looks through the drawings.

"Thank you," Genya replies timidly. She's about to ask about David but he gives her one more smile before turning his attention back to his work, the conversation over. She wants to interrupt him and learn all about him but she doesn't want to interrupt him.

They leave the library at the same time, walking side by side without saying anything. Genya can't stop herself from glancing at him every few seconds from the corner of her eye. David on the other hand looks deep in thought, like he isn't walking next to her at all. She desperately wants to see him again, wants to reach out and touch his hand but she thinks about it so long her nerves get the better of her and never does a thing about it.

"See you next time," David says at the exit, and then turns around and leaves without waiting for a response.

"We...will?" Genya asks the thin hair because David is gone before she has even comprehended what he's said.

She spends the rest of her day in a daze and then the following days afterward she asks herself if the whole incident in the library actually happened. But then she sees David in the hallway and he nods in her direction and she flushes like she's a girl of fifteen all over again. And then he begins to smile in her direction and Genya becomes so flustered she finds herself walking into pillars and water fountains on multiple occasions.

Genya sees David at least a dozen times a day, more than she has ever seen him before. Part of her wonders if he passes by the places that he's figured out she's going to be in most often. The library becomes their meeting spot. Genya spends as much time there as possible in the hopes that David will show up to see her. It comes to the point where her friend starts to complain that they never see her because she's constantly studying.

"Why are you even in the library this often, you're a fashion major," Alina whines one day when Genya announces she's off to the library.

"Fashion majors need to read," Genya replies defensively. She's shoving books into her bag when Alina reaches over and grabs the opening to stop her.

"Of course fashion majors need to read but you spend every waking second in the library, not even the history students are in there that often," Alina points out. "Is there something you're not telling me about?"

"No," Genya replies too quickly and now she sounds even guiltier. Alina has a knowing look in her eyes.

"There is someone, isn't there," Alina pounces, a gleam in her eye. She leans forward, arms crossed on the table between the two friends.

"There isn't anyone, I just really enjoy the...atmosphere," Genya says. The excuse sounds lame even to her own ears but it's the only thing she can say. What else is there to enjoy about the library.

"Genya you're the most outgoing person I know, sitting quietly in a library for hours on end is the very last thing you'd do. I can't even get you to go to a bookstore with me," Alina scoffs. Genya might have been able to get away with her evasiveness if David hadn't passed by at that very moment.

Her face lights up in happiness at the sight of him, a smile overtaking her face before she's even registering her response to him.

David smiles in return and nods his head and says, "Hey," in passing.

"Hi," she quietly breaths back but he's gone before he can hear it. Genya's gaze immediately snaps back to Alina and her friend looks back at her, smug.

"Oh I see," she says, the picture of ease, slouched low in her chair, legs spread out before her. Genya scowls back at her.

"Not a word," she snaps back mortified.

"No, no, what is there to say," Alina replies nonchalantly. "I just never mistook you for someone to go for the whole quiet nerd vibe."

"David is lovely," Genya says defensively.

"I never said he wasn't, I just said he was nerdy."

A beat of silence.

"Do you know anything about him?" Genya finally asks grudgingly.

"I'm the last person you should be asking," Alina says with a snort. "Mal would probably know more though."

"Oh yes, Mal, your little friend, and how is Mal, your friend, doing?" Genya asks, widening her eyes innocently. Alina blanches, her face going white.

"You know what, maybe you should go to the library, go there as often as you want. We're really not that close," she says. Genya lets out a cackle and wiggles her fingers goodbye before setting off.

***

"So why did you pick engineering?" Genya asks him one day. They've finally progressed to getting coffee together instead of sitting in the library all the time. The social setting makes her more comfortable but she can see the way David's shoulders are tense and he shifts in his chair restlessly.

"I like making things with my hands. Seeing a bunch of pieces and putting them together, like a puzzle," he says. "And you know, machines aren't complicated."

Genya blinks at him.

"I mean, they're not complicated in the way that people are complicated," he amends. "I've never really liked big groups of people or parties, they're so noisy, you can't hear anyone, no one can finish a sentence without being interrupted, so I just keep to myself. It's easier that way."

"But don't you get lonely?"

David turns his head towards the sun streaming in and thinks for a moment. Genya can't help but be distracted by the way the sun turns his hair brown or admire the angle of his jaw, or his nose, or his full lips. Especially his lips. What a shame they're not attached to her. Or her neck, moving down towards her ...

David. Talking. Genya blinks rapidly and pushes the thoughts of David's mouth on her neck (among other places) away to focus on what he's saying.

"Not lately. But I like spending time on my own, I don't have to worry about talking all of the time or thinking about something interesting to say. There's no pressure to be entertaining."

And while Genya hears the rest, her mind is stuck on the not lately part. She's pretty sure he means since meeting her but she's too shy to ask even though she knows David wouldn't think it embarrassing.

"And people are always saying things they don't mean," he goes on frowning. "I can never understand how dating is supposed to work. My brothers try to explain it to me but it sounds like a lot of saying what you don't mean and expecting someone to figure out what you're not saying. You can't do certain things because it makes you look needy or too eager, which makes no sense to me because wouldn't you want the person you like to know you like them?"

This is the most he's ever said to Genya she's pretty sure. Her heart leaps at the idea that he's comfortable enough around her to say these things. Her heart leaps at the way his arms looked crossed in front of him the way that they do in that snug shirt.

"That's true, it's one of the nice things about you though," she replies and when he looks at her in confusion she adds, "I can just say what I mean and what I want and you won't think I'm weird for it."

She swears she sees his cheeks turn the barest shade of pink although his brown skin hides it well.

"I think you have class, I'll walk with you," he says, clearing his throat and the two of them leave the shop together. He does that a lot lately, walking her to class that is. Genya has taken to walking him to his. She definitely doesn't stand outside the room watching his butt as he walks away from her.

Neither of them feels the need to comment on anything as they walk side by side towards the arts building.

They're at the door of her classroom, and David is in the middle of saying goodbye, when one of Genya's classmates shoves David's shoulder to get past them. The man looks Genya up and down and shoots her a wink before disappearing into the room.

Genya turns to David about to apologize when she sees the scowl he sends towards her classmate. It's the first time she's ever seen David anything other than neutral and serene and the fact that it's on her behalf makes her giddy.

"Who's that?" David asks. Genya has never been gladder of his earnest manner more than this moment. It's gratifying to hear the note of jealousy because it means she's not the only one at odds and ends in this budding friendship they have. She shouldn't like it but she does. Alina would have her head if she heard such nonsense.

"Oh just some classmate," she says with a shrug. "He does this all the time. He's quite harmless."

At least she thinks, although the man in question is a little too persistent for her tastes but surely he can only mean the flirting as a joke.

"I have to go," David says abruptly and marches off in a determined manner, leaving Genya behind wondering what's just happened.

She hopes he's not mad at her and agonizes over his behaviour the whole class, completely missing the topic at hand. When she eventually leaves, she's so miserably anxious she doesn't know what to do with herself. Genya is about to call Alina and beg her for advice but never gets the chance to decide because David is standing outside the door.

He thrusts a large bouquet of flowers at her before Genya has a chance to say anything and instinctively she reaches out to take them so they don't fall on the ground.

"For you," David says without ceremony. Genya blinks in bewilderment at him and looks between the flowers and his solemn face.

"Ah….thank you, these are beautiful," Genya says. She's sincere about the compliment but her brain is still playing catch up with her and can't quite get past the beautiful flowers and that David got them for her.

"They're red amaryllis," David offers and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "It reminds me of your hair."

She can feel tears gathering in her eyes because this is the sweetest thing anyone has done for her and she's not quite sure what she's done to deserve this man. David notices the watering eyes and his brows furrow in alarm.

"I'm sorry if you don't like them. I didn't mean to make you cry, I'll take them back," he says miserably, reaching for them. Genya moves them out of his reach.

"These are happy tears, don't you dare take these away from me. No take backs," Genya says, clutching the flowers to her chest. David relaxes and sends her one of his disarming smiles.

The gestures continue. David brings her coffee, or snacks. Sometimes he'll even hand over his own food because he sees her looking at it just a little too long in the library. Genya buys him lunch or dinner. She seeks him out in the library if she knows he's been hard at work studying and reminds him to go home. She tells him tidbits and facts that she thinks he might like. She gives him her hat if he says he's cold, and he gives her his gloves because he knows her hands are always cold.

Genya brings him little oddities she finds when she's out shopping, and David gives her books on the collections of famous fashion houses. He invites her over to his house and she bakes cookies with his mom and makes plans for a shopping trip with his sister. David agrees to meet Alina and Mal and immediately he and Mal become the best of friends.

Now when Genya arrives in the library before him, he chooses to sit next to her instead of across the table. Sometimes he throws his arm across the back of her chair casually. Sometimes the hand of that arm will unconsciously trace patterns up and down the side of Genya's arm.

Genya doesn't know how to ask him to go on a date even though they're doing things that couples do, but it seems the universe wants the two of them together even more than she does.

It happens when she's on the way to the library one evening to meet up with David. They're planning on studying together, he needs help with an English paper due in a few days, and Genya wants to spend time with him. The fact that she's not that good at writing English papers is not important.

The sun is starting to set, and she's been trying to shake off the man who shoved into David that one day but he's either not getting the hint or he's choosing to ignore them. She tries to make excuses to leave so they'll go their separate ways, but he conveniently also has nowhere to be. Genya gives curt responses and purposely makes it seem as if she's not paying attention to what he's saying. She gives dry responses to his flirtations in the hopes to deter him. When he stands too close, she very obviously puts space between them.

And now he's following her to the library and Genya is praying he leaves her alone because she's got a sneaking suspicion he's going to wait around until she leaves the library and then follow her home.

Eventually he gets to the point and asks for a date.

"You're very lovely," Genya lies through her teeth. Her smile is more of a grimace at this point. "But I'm not all that interested."

"Come on, just one date," he says, taking a step toward her. Genya takes a step back. His tone is light but she's on her guard and she knows how quickly that good humour can turn sour.

"No thank you," she insists. When he opens his mouth to say something else, she blurts out, "I have a boyfriend, his name is David. I'm on the way to see him at the library."

She doesn't know why she says it, it's the only thing she can think of, the only thing that's always worked in the past a hundred percent of the time. And as if she's summoned him herself, David appears as if from nowhere. Her knight in….well not exactly shining armour but in his favourite crewneck at least.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long, sweetheart," David's voice says. He rounds the corner, his mouth set in a grim line as he stares down the man cornering Genya. The endearment sounds a little stilted coming from him, but the natural way he puts his arm around Genya's waist and leans in to kiss her cheek makes up for it.

She feels the tension leak out of her at the contact. David is here and she's not alone, she's safe and he'll take care of this. She leans into his side, absorbing the warmth coming from him and puts her head on his shoulder.

"Hello darling, I was just picking up dinner for you," she replies as lovingly as possible. She looks up at him like he's her hero (she doesn't even have to pretend) and burrows into his side even more.

"How thoughtful of you," David replies warmly. He leans down and gives her a long, sweet kiss that sends her knees quaking. Her classmate thoroughly forgotten, David steers the two of them away from the man and they continue on to the library. Once they're far enough away, Genya lets out a long sigh.

"Thank the saints you showed up, I didn't know what I was going to do about him," Genya says. David rubs his hand up and down her back as the two of them walk.

"The nerve of him to ask out my girlfriend," David huffs. Genya drags the two of them to a halt and stares at David unblinking.

"Your what?" she asks, thinking she's misheard.

"My girlfriend," David repeats, a little slower this time as if she's hard of hearing.

"Since when am I your girlfriend?" Genya asks because she's fairly certain she would've remembered something that monumental. But no, she's certain he never asked.

"Since I brought you flowers after class?" David asks as if he's beginning to doubt himself. "I mean what have we been doing if not dating?"

"David you never asked me to be your girlfriend," Genya insists. Not that she minds the presumption but there are rules to these things.

"I didn't realize I was supposed to, I thought it was obvious. Of course you're my girlfriend, why else would I bring you home to my mom," David says, head tilted to the side. He's looking at her as if she's recently had a brain injury.

Genya's mouth has dropped open as she processes this new development. She doesn't know whether to whoop in elation or burst into song or start dancing or leap onto David right now and ravish him.

"David, you were supposed to ask," she insists and suddenly the whole ordeal is hilarious. Genya's biting her lip to stop from laughing but her shoulders are starting to shake from holding it in. It's all just so ridiculous.

Here she was agonizing over whether he wanted her and the whole time David already thought they were dating.

"Oh, do you not want to be my girlfriend then?" he asks, worry creeping into his tone. He deflates and the look of dejection on his face makes Genya want to shower him with kisses to make it go away.

"No, that's not what I meant. I- never mind, we're dating, I'm your girlfriend," Genya says with a roll of her eyes.

"But you just said-"

She cuts David off by wrapping her arms around his neck, her hands digging into his hair, and pulls his lips down to hers for a proper kiss.

"Forget what I said, okay," she says breathlessly. "You were right we've definitely been dating this whole time."

"Yes ma'am," he agrees in bewilderment. "You know we should be doing a lot more kissing since we're boyfriend and girlfriend."

Genya can't help but beam at him. "I completely agree. More kissing. Lots more kissing. In fact, I propose we go back to my room and play catch up. We've got a lot of kissing to make up for."

[4dtk]

Yellow

Pairing: Blind!Jaemin x Florist!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humour (a teeny bit) / Soulmate!AU where you see colours when you meet eyes with your soulmate

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident, (might be) inaccurate depictions of corneal blindness although I googled

Word Count: 5k

A/N: This work is fictional and I do not wish for any of the incidents here to happen to the boys in real life. If you are uncomfortable with reading this, please don’t hesitate to scroll past! This is a little longer and different than what I usually write too, so I hope it’s okay! I realise I didn’t really utilise the reader as a florist that much either, so apologies for that! I made a playlist for this fic too, it can be found here.

Jaemin was confused, for himself, for his soulmate, for his parents. He didn’t expect any of it when the blood runs from his head and nose, when he hears the distant wailing of an ambulance and smells the pungent odour of smoke rising from the crashed vehicle.

His eyes felt blocked but weighed light at the same time, like a fluid that’s been spread over his pupils like ointment.

Jaemin’s body lay motionless while the male attempts to peek around the accident, observing the bent metal near his injured leg and the airbag supporting his manager’s limp body.

Was he dead? It was nerve-wrecking, even when he wasn’t the one leaning over the white inflatable object; weirdly, his heart felt heavy when he noticed no movement from the man who took care of him since day one.

The man who checked on Jaemin when he’d fall down from riding the hoverboard too fast or when he pulled a nerve doing the ‘Boom’ choreography—his manager who’s there to tell him to wear his cap tightly over his head before going live with Haechan and Renjun.

It was something he remembered when he felt paramedics lift his body up onto a stretcher, recalling on when they’d laugh about it when the live ended.

Jaemin was told to regulate his breathing in the ambulance, having no choice to hope that his manager is in good hands as he follows the paramedic on duty.

He had no strength to even ask if the other was doing okay, unable to get the sight of blood staining and tainting the airbag, out of his mind.

He doesn’t think much of it, perhaps even enjoying the light feeling in his lungs and the pain in his leg reaching the maximum that his nerves turn numb.

When he hears and feels the rush of the hospital staff, however, Jaemin realises it might be worse than it actually is.

There’s a faint shout of a doctor to a nurse, and he loses all grip on his senses after, succumbing to the metallic, disinfectant smell of the hospital which he hasn’t inhaled since the start of his year-long hiatus.

“Damn, My First and Last sounds so good, hyung!” Jaemin gushes over the FaceTime with Mark, the older offering a small smile and a story that happened when they were filming the music video. It was unfortunate that Jaemin had injured his spine so close to the comeback date, but could anyone blame him for how hard he worked?

Jeno promised to show him the move he was practicing before getting the peculiar feeling in his spine and the youngest ensured that they’ll try the ‘pulling’ move on the floor where they grabbed each other’s feet.

Jaemin could feel their love, even now, as he hears Renjun’s reaction and Jeno’s voice booming over the phone. There’s a fuss over the line before it goes dead, mind drifting off as his head begins to hurt more and the feeling in his leg starts to come back.

With a team of surgeons now preparing for their new patient, Jaemin struggles to hold on to the nurse’s hand, urgency thick in the air until his ears is met with an unfamiliar voice. He lets the doctor talk to him, placing his bets on his deteriorating senses.

The members scramble to grab their things, moments of scurrying and ducking under the other’s arms, passing their manager whatever Jaemin may need in the hospital, showing their natural teamwork even off stage.

All of them pile into the car, tension lingering between the members, no one brave enough to address the elephant in the room as Jisung struggles to hold in his tears. Collectively, they worry about their member on the way to the hospital, supporting each other silently as they always have since debut.

Jeno shoots a quick text to Doyoung, informing him of the situation and the 127 members are rushing, now, as well.

“A few. Only a few of us should go.”

“Why?” Doyoung shoots back at Taeyong. As much as the leader ached to tag along, there was the current pandemic going on. The government encouraged their people to stay home unless necessary, but the youngest couldn’t let his friend suffer alone.

Haechan cuts in with a sharp tone, voice wavering just a little. “I’ll go. Let me go, hyung, please.”

Taeyong gives a shaky nod, head dipping and eyes focusing on the floor as Doyoung and Haechan leave the dorm, but not before dragging Mark who was glued to the floor at the news.

Kun’s concerned texts distract Doyoung from the problem at hand momentarily, though the oldest still grapples with the terrifying scenarios playing in his mind, laying either hand on the two trembling members.

As both groups make their way to the hospital, Jaemin remains unconscious from anaesthesia, not knowing of the panic across NCT as a whole. The chaos everyone felt contrasted with his feeling of peace on the operating table, mind drifting to thoughts of meeting his soulmate.

The thoughts of seeing colour seep into his life as he found the person of his dreams. The background would fade around them as he focused only on them, the wide smile they would don as the emerging colours added to the moment.

Jaemin’s confusion surged to an all time high when he had gained consciousness with a blur to his vision. It was glitched and unusual, the familiar black and white fading in and out.

All he could concentrate on was his soulmate. What were they doing? Did they know he’d been hurt so badly? What if he couldn’t find ‘The One’?

The questions swirled his head with the seconds ticking by, black and white fading to just black for a moment before bouncing back to the greyscale colour palette.

Within the next minute, or what felt like one, Jaemin was in his ward, the members awaiting any news from the doctor. As he makes his way out of the operating room after clean-up, he retracts from the amount of people staring back at him with hopeful eyes.

“I’ll talk to one of you. Ensure safe distancing, boys.” Chenle looks to his hyung, Renjun, who just sighs and rolls his eyes, taking a seat to calm his nerves as Doyoung stepped up to talk to the doctor.

The doctor takes a big gulp before speaking, prompting the oldest’s eyes to snap down to his name tag on his stark white coat.

Dr. Na. What a coincidence he’d have the same surname as Jaemin.

“I’m… afraid the car crash might’ve done a number on his head. There’s-“

The familiar rush of sirens causes the doctor cut his sentence short, though it catches Doyoung by surprise at how loud the sirens appeared to be.

“Mr. Na suffered a blow to the brain which controls his vision. The force of the crash punctured his retina and when theres a tear present, fluid can pass through, spreading between the retina and the eye’s back wall.”

Doyoung is quick to ask a question, but retracts at the hand of the doctor, watching how he removes the skin-tight gloves with caution.

“It’s… lucky that we got him here on time, but because he fell on his right, the retina might have detached faster than we expected; the left, not so much. If the rush to the hospital was a little slower, there might have been more damage to both his eyes.”

The other’s breath stops at this.

The doctor senses the shock residing in Doyoung’s body, escaping through his facial expression in short breaths.

“The other surgeons are getting him into a stable state, currently. I’m in their team and is just here to convey his condition—the main doctor who will take over his case will be the one talking to you later.”

“As lucky as Mr. Na is to have lived, you should let the boy rest for now. When he does wake up, notify one of the nurses. They might have to guide him through words as we are unsure of the state of his vision.”

Doyoung swallows the inquiring questions he had on the tip of his tongue, nodding along to the instructions before seeing the other’s figure disappear into the ward. A nurse emerges from the operating room with something in hand, following the doctor into the ward with the object.

“Jaemin’s in stable condition.” Doyoung mutters quietly, hopefully loud enough for the others to hear since he wasn’t looking forward to the next thing.

“But…?” Haechan stepped forward, seeking answers and clutching onto the other’s arm. Doyoung didn’t seem to mind, even when the squeeze was starting to hurt.

“The doctors are unsure of how his vision will turn out; there’s a possibility he-“ The silence broke when Jisung sinks into Jeno’s side, body shaking with quiet sobs. The older comforts him while Doyoung still struggles to get the next words out.

“What is it, hyung? Say it out, please!” His heart broke, seeing the younger one be like this. Haechan was always cheerful when he was in the dorm, clinging onto Taeil while annoying the hell out of the Doyoung. It was in their nature to bicker, but when he was begging right in front of him for the news of his friend, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Mr. Na is stable. Come in with caution, please.” Doyoung felt selfish as he thanked the interruption, not wanting to be the person to break the news.

The boys enter quietly, not wanting to startle Jaemin, if he was even awake.

They watch the bed Jaemin was on without words, some staring off into space while Doyoung observes the steady breathing of the boy. It was calming to see him at least cleaned of the blood, the images circling the internet plaguing Doyoung’s mind.

He was sure the fans were already informed of the accident. Lost and adrift, Doyoung hopes he can address and reassure them about the incident soon, placing his hopes that Jaemin was well even if he hasn’t woken up.

・．━━━━━━━━━━━━━━．・

“Don’t forget to bring in the roses, we went a week without them and I don’t think I can deal with any more fussy customers.”

Being a florist while you haven’t found your soulmate was hard. You found it especially hard when you needed to arrange flowers for banquets and customers—there were colours you hadn’t learned to see and wondered if they matched each other when you started out on arranging.

You’ve learnt that there can be a handful of colour combinations, thankful for your mother who was patient enough to tell you the colour of each flower you pointed out.

“When do you think I’ll find him? Or her?”

Your mother shrugs as she snipped off the stem of a flower, throwing it away before washing her hands.

“Could be any time soon.” She whispers, inspecting the daisy she had in a hand, the yellow in the middle standing out.

Whilst she could enjoy the colours of the vibrant shop, you were still stumbling over various flowers that looked the same. Without the labels on the boxes, you might’ve had more trouble than you already had.

“You really think so?”

Your mother nods with a smile, handing you the daisy in her hand. “You’ll be asking me about colours very soon, I’m positive.”

There’s a small smile on your face at her answer, walking around the shop to check on the flowers as the crowd had died down.

You first discovered what your mother did for a living when you stumbled down from upstairs with a flu, finding hard to rest when the shop downstairs was so noisy.

It was a day before the fourteenth in February, not understanding why the place was full of schoolgirls (and boys). There were a few other older patrons, who struggled to keep their cool in the disoriented mess of the area.

Your mother handled it like a champ, with your dad occasionally coming out to help. Other than that, he’d stay out back, cleaning the flowers and making sure they look presentable.

The shipments were hours late—usually they would arrive at night the day before, so your parents could take care of the flowers before the shop opened at 9am the next day.

Black and white was something you were used to at seven years old. You assumed the world worked that way, though you don’t miss the way your mother would always ask if there was anything you were curious about.

“Dad? Do you need any help?”

He shoots a small smile, messing up your bed hair even further. “No, it’s okay. Go upstairs and rest, I’m sorry that the shop is so noisy. That’s why you came down, isn’t it?”

You nod your head, peeking around to see your mom scurrying from the cash register to the customers, her feet never resting from the busy crowd outside shooting flowers and colours, left and right.

Asters, Orchids, Bellflowers, Poppies were flowers at the top of your head when your mom asked you about the flowers you knew, but those other words the customers had shouted out still felt unfamiliar on your tongue.

“Ye-llow…?” You mumbled, looking up at your mother one weekend at twelve years old.

“Yeah, just like that. I’ve drawn suns with a yellow crayon. There are bananas and taxis as well. Do you remember sunflowers?”

“The TV show or the flower?”

Your mother grins at that, “the flower.” You nod enthusiastically, cleaning up the papers and stationary you used for your homework.

“Sunflowers are yellow, too.” A large flower comes into view, with pointy petals and a fuzzy middle.

To you, it seemed like a boring painting of black and white, but the way your mom described it made it seem like it was the most beautiful thing (“After roses, of course,” she’d say.)

“Yellow is the colour of warmth and positivity. It can feel like two different things, a comforting hug and… a laugh, perhaps.”

Your head tilted as she continued to explain the colour, giving you an exaggerated shrug when she reached the extremes of her explanation.

“It’s hard to explain colours, hun. I’ll try my best, but the feeling when you experience it for yourself? Wow. I hope you’ll have that feeling in years to come.”

And so, at twenty years old, you were going to, soon, but not in the way you expected it to go.

・．━━━━━━━━━━━━━━．・

“You want me to what?” You ask through the phone, annoyed enough that you’ve already been interrupted from your university project.

It was vexing enough that this person had to call your personal phone, possibly finding it on the website of your mother’s shop.

She claimed that it was only ‘integrity and generosity’ that she put everyone’s numbers since the shop (and the shop’s phone line) was closed on Sundays except for patrons picking up their orders.

“Remember that dark-haired boy who came to collect the flowers from you last weekend?” Racking your brain for any memory of the boy, you struggle to match the description to a face as the person on the the end brushes it off and continues.

Your eyes soften and your features fall, however, when he speaks in a quiet voice.

“Our friend, he’s- he’s in the hospital. The flowers were meant for him… he loves it by the way. He likes the way the flowers feel on his skin, as weird as it sounds.” The male laughs quietly at the memory, getting back to the reason of why he contacted you.

“He wants to meet you.” he says quietly, not knowing what reaction to expect.

“But why?”

“He says he’s annoyed of hearing his member’s voices all day, quote unquote,” he jokes at another memory, “no, but, he wants to meet whoever did the bouquet. He wants to thank you personally, I’m assuming. Not sure why he waited a week to tell me this though…”

“Oh, okay, when?”

“Now?” He says timidly, bracing himself for an incoming argument due to the last minute news.

“He’s not creepy or anything, right?”

“Jaemin? No, definitely not. Just a little loud and outgoing—I’m not sure how he’s doing now considering his- state, though so uhh…”

Jaemin, huh? Why did it sound so familiar yet foreign?

“And- and, the same boy from last week will be picking you up so don’t worry about it.”

“This sounds like straight up kidnapping.” You whisper into the receiver, getting a buzz from your phone right after.

“What did you send me?” You asked cautiously, finger hovering over the chat as the green bar the top of your phone glared back at you, signalling that the call was on speaker.

His voice came through the speaker, reassuring you that it was not a picture of his privates. You gulped anxiously. With the amount stories online, you’d know better than to open a chat from a man who you didn’t know.

You did it anyway out of curiosity.

Cracking an eye open was a relief, seeing that the picture was only a selfie of the dark-haired boy and probably the person on the other end of the line.

“He looks like this! Ring any bells?” He asks just as the door swings open from a customer.

Holding up a hand, you politely ask the newcomer to wait as you squint your eyes at the boy in the picture who supposedly came here to collect the bouquet.

Double takes help, because the person who matched the picture was standing in front of you, separated by the counter.

“Oh… I didn’t think you’d come so soon.”

Another ding! interrupts your surprise, looking back at the chat as the photo loaded.

“Here’s another of Jaemin with the flowers, though his face isn’t in it—he insists he looks bad in the hospital gown which I agree on.”

You can sense the other rolling his eyes, wondering if the conversation was going to end.

“You’re overwhelming the girl, Hyuck, just hang up.” His voice is gentle but stern, putting his hands together in an apology after the other hangs up with an irritated “okay fine!”

“I’m sorry for him, he can be a little annoying at times.”

“I heard that!” The other fires back, though you swore you heard the beep; maybe you heard wrong.

“Donghyuck!”

“Okay, I’m going! Sheesh.”

The boy looks at you with watchful eyes, wondering how’d you react to this whole situation.

“You can’t see colour, yet, can you?” He asks suddenly.

“Wh- are you doubting my arranging skills?”

“Wait! Wait no- I’m just asking… and yes, the flowers might have been a little mismatched- but it was fine! It’s fine—I don’t think Jaemin minds.” He saves himself, two hands outstretched in surrender.

“Why doesn’t he?” You ask curiously, head tilting to the side as you lock up the register.

Your question remains unanswered, however, as his eyes trail from your face to the flowers behind you. He seemed nervous to answer that one question.

Shaking your head, you mutter a ‘never mind’ and head upstairs to grab your things and change into a more presentable outfit.

The ride was smooth, with a small exchange of what to expect at the hospital. You learn that his name is Jeno, making note of the black hair and the little mole beside his right eye, as well as his polite smile which made you feel at ease.

“Jaemin’s sweet, he’ll talk to you like you aren’t a stranger, so you don’t have to worry about being awkward.”

“He’s funny too, always making weird noises and stuff like that. Don’t mention that I’m saying all these though, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You laugh at that last part, because you definitely don’t want your friends to know how fondly you speak of them when they’re absent.

When you arrive, however, you can feel your hands becoming clammy and damp, the keychain on your bag having suffered enough from your fidgeting fingers.

He’s someone I don’t know, why is it making me jumpy and jittery?

The antiseptic smell of the hospital did nothing for you, wringing your hands together and hoping it’d calm your heart down.

“She’s here, Jaemin.”

The male on the bed breaks conversation, turning to you and pointed to the flowers on the bedside table excitedly. He’s not exactly facing the door… though.

Oh.

They flow in like a rush of adrenaline, with the feeling of dizziness when you stand up too fast.

They emerge in small spots and then spread out to every inch of the room and although you’re in room with four white walls, your eyes immediately drift to the flowers you arranged for the boy and back to him.

His hair is a bright pink, I think, and his smile is brighter than the sun. His eyes look like the colourless crescent at night and he makes me feel like the colour yellow.

You recall your mom describing yellow as a warm, positive colour, her words ringing true.

Purples and blues on the other boys’ clothing, as well as a bright orange on one’s head. There was a lovely lime green cardigan on Jeno and a red flannel on another boy.

There’s notes forming in your head on the different shades appearing, the imaginary pencil scribbling and scribbling until your hand hurts and the words are messy.

You take baby steps towards the male, and although his eyes aren’t directed at you, you can feel the pull of his heart on yours.

“Hi,” you mumble softly, approaching his bed before noticing the white over his eyes.

The other members make space immediately, stumbling over each other to give their friend his privacy.

“Hey, I’m Jaemin. Not the best time to be meeting your soulmate, huh.” He grins, feeling around for your hand before relaxing as your fingers tighten around his.

“I guess not—I’m (Y/N).” You whisper, the other hand hovering over his cheek, “may I?”

You expect him to ask about what you meant, but instead he just nods his head. Jaemin was a little surprised at the contact, but trusts you either way.

The way Jaemin looks at you breaks your heart, because his eyes are soft and his smile brought down a notch. He looks at you like you’re his whole world although that ability’s been taken away from him.

“There’s minimal colours in my eyes right now. It’s so faded and it’s going to go back to black soon, I think.” Jaemin states sadly, his thumb stroking over your skin gently.

Almost. The ability’s deteriorating right now.

“I don’t deny how I felt when you walked in, though. I think the colours are beautiful, and you are beautiful. You’re fading… too.”

“Is it? Do you want me to tell you about colours, then?” Asking softly, you scoot your chair closer to him as your hands twine with the other’s.

And so, you describe to him the colours of the rainbow and the colours of his friends’ clothing.

The colours of your university project and the colours of the hospital gown on him.

The colours of the mismatched flowers and the colours of how he makes you feel.

・．━━━━━━━━━━━━━━．・

“Babe?” Jaemin calls out softly, feeling the rustle of the sheets and the dip of the bed. He relaxes as always when he feels his hand in yours.

“Hey, Jaem, I’m here.” Whispering wasn’t uncommon between the two of you, exchanging shared stories in the night or laughing about the members in hushed tones.

It prevented the boy from getting too startled, so you always spoke with a quiet tone. Once you knew Jaemin was comfortable, you’d continue in a normal voice.

Sometimes, he’d be louder than you.

“Baby,” Jaemin mumbles softly, curling an arm around your waist as he settles in the crook of your neck, “could you describe the colours for me again?”

He feels the weight of your smile on his faded pink hair, getting comfortable before you start out with the colour he likes the most—Pink.

“Pink’s like being playful at a picnic in the summer and it’s also the colour of your hair! It’s fading, though.” You take the chance to mess it up further, getting a whine and a giggle from the boy.

“It’s also very soft and cotton candy-ish and it’s kinda a compulsory colour if you want to get a nice sunset picture.”

“Pink is really sweet, too, it feels like that bus ride home after meeting your crush while you listen to a playlist.”

Jaemin gives you small kisses as you carry on to red.

“Red’s the popular colour in Valentine’s Day, alongside pink. It’s passionate and fiery and strong; maybe like your desire for strawberry yoghurt.”

The male sits up to glare at wherever he assumed your face was, only coming back down to your embrace when you surrendered with a laugh.

“Your tastebuds are still hella weird though, babe.”

You know he’s rolling his eyes by the way he smiles, simply squeezing your hand in warning of your insults.

“Okay okay! Now’s blue.”

“Blue’s calm and free, like the ocean and the sky, perhaps. I don’t feel sad looking at blue, though it is a mesmerising colour to stare at and get lost in.”

“You’ll feel like everything’s going to be okay when you look at the colour blue, I think.”

“God, I don’t think that’s the case because of Jeno’s hideous blue plaid shirt from before.” Jaemin mumbles into your neck, moving closer to your body, as if it was even possible.

You grin at the insult to his band mate. “Oh. shut up, I think he looked fine in it.” With eyes drifting to the boy below you, you await any word or reaction from him before receiving none, deciding to head on to the next colour.

“Damn, I can’t remember much about orange, though. It’s been so long since I helped out in my mom’s shop. I’ll google.”

“What- no that’s cheating!” Jaemin giggles, smacking your waist repeatedly.

“The colour orange is stimulating and vibrant and it’s associated with sunshine, creativity and health.” You read like you would with an important piece of text while switching off the device. Green.

“Green’s very nature-ish… and refreshing! Oh! And it’s natural too, because it takes up most of the spectrum’s space of the human eye. If pink’s the playful nature at a picnic, then I feel like green would be the opposite, like cherry blossoms against a field, maybe.”

“Green’s also the colour of your fans. So it might bring you a sense of love and warmth as opposed to textbook meanings. I know it does, for me.”

“Because you’re a dedicated Czennie?” Jaemin teases with the same kisses from before. He feels you nod, “of course!”

“Purple’s also an essential colour if you want nice sunset pictures. It just fits with pink. You can still feel calm with purple but theres this urgency about it? Like it’s telling you to get up and travel instead of staying home.”

“That description was lame, wasn’t it?” Sighing, your boyfriend hums into your neck—a neutral response.

“Yellow are taxis and bananas and the colour of my phone at the moment. There’s also corn and suns and sunflowers.”

Yellow is the colour of warmth and positivity. It can feel like two different things, a comforting hug and… a laugh, perhaps.

You smile at the memory in the shop. “Yellow’s kinda like two separate things, for me. It’s like a warm hug and a loud, optimistic laugh.”

“Are you using the same description from the hospital from months ago?” Jaemin grinned for the umpteenth time that night while you replies with a laugh, loving the feel of his wide smile on your neck.

You plant a kiss on his forehead, then, the scented shampoo of his hair lingered in the air like perfume.

“It was my mom’s description! I just happen to agree with it, okay.”

“To be fair, yellow was the last of the colours I’d seen before everything went black. Weren’t you wearing a yellow dress that day?”

There’s a fond smile on your face as you both sink down onto the pillows from your sitting position, giving him a peck on the lips.

“Close. It was a top. Do you wanna see me in a dress that bad?”

“Maybe.” Jaemin beamed, with hopeful and happy eyes.

You keep quiet after that, playing with the hair of your lover’s while your head now takes its place in the crook of his neck.

“I love you.” It’s quiet and tranquil in the room, slow breaths that seem like one.

“I love you too. More than ever, Jaemin.” You remove yourself from his embrace and cup his face in your hands.

“I love you so much, I hope you never forget that.” Whispering the confession, as you always did, made the moment a tad bit sweeter and meaningful.

And while you were happy to see the boy burst out in laughter from the Dreamies’ bickering or the joke you found online, there’s going to be doubts and vulnerability.

While Jaemin’s mind turned inside out with the turmoil of this new obstacle, you were there to make sure he never spirals and falls too deep.

There were and there will be more days when he feels like the world is against him and that he feels so goddamn lost in this world where he’s supposed to see the beauty of colours, where he’s supposed to see you.

You are his rock to hold on to when the world feels a bit dizzy, as are his feet. You’re the sunshine in a dark world where black never leaves his vision.

You’re that comforting hug and boisterous laugh.

You’re his Yellow.

[ruthoakenshield]

Very Good Friends (Chapter 7)

Catch up here: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

Reader x Henry Cavill, Reader x co-star named Dan

Warning: This tale is for 18+ readers ONLY!!! Mentions of flashbacks: (rape, anal sex, non-con sex, abuse), severe bruising and injury, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, humiliation, and some fluff to make us feel better. Smut comes later on in the story… Several chapters down the road… I promise!!!

If ANY of the warnings upset you or make you uncomfortable, DO NOT read below the cut! go find something else to read in this case.

If you are okay with reading those things then enjoy the tale below the cut.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. I do not own Henry nor do I have any personal knowledge of him besides what is common knowledge amongst the Cavillary. Any mistakes and typos are mine, story is not beta-tested. GIF I got from the tumbler search thingy.

When the two of you get back, you quietly shrug off your jacket and shoes and hand the jacket to Henry to hang up. He turns and looks down at you. You’re staring at the floor, shoulders sagging and looking as broken as he is sure you’re feeling. He reaches out gently and caresses your arm. “What do you want or need right now, Kitten. How can I help comfort you?” he asks.

You look up at him with glassy, sad and bewildered hazel eyes. He always loved your eyes. They always held so much expression, and they were unique, like his. Yours seemed to hold every color. The outer edges of your irises were a dark blue fading to gray, the middle of your irises were a mix of green, amber and blue with little flecks of brown and the inner edge around your pupil was a dark brown. Your eyes would change color, he noticed, depending on your moods and what you wore or the background behind you. Sometimes your eyes looked blue as the oceans near his childhood home, sometimes they were a stormy grey, other times green as the fields back home in the springtime. Right now, though, they held only sadness and pain and bewilderment. They looked pale blue and damn near broke his heart.

Henry reached out and caressed your face. “I know you’re hurting, and feeling overwhelmed, Kitten. How can I help you feel better?” he asks again.

You sigh and shrug and look back down at the floor. “I don’t know.” You quietly murmur.

Henry squats down and looks up into your face. His large, warm hand reaches up and just holds your face on one side. You close your eyes and tilt your head into his hand. A few tears trickle out of your eyes. His distinct smell of rosemary from his water he was drinking in the car along with the cedarwood soap he uses, and his distinctive musky man smell floods your senses as he squats down in front of you. His face close to yours now, and you just want to crawl into his arms and stay there forever.

“Sweetheart, I wish I could take this pain and heartache from you. You don’t deserve any of it.” he tells you. “You are very brave for agreeing to press charges and for standing up and telling Dan he’s hurt enough people. I’m proud of you, Sweetheart. I’m proud of you for cooperating with me and going to see the counselor and talking with her a bit. I know your throat is still sore and it hurts to talk.” He tells you. “We both know Dan’s ruined his career doing what he did to you. Don’t worry about things, okay? We’ll take this one day at a time. His scenes are done, you don’t have to deal with him any longer until the court case. So now it’s just you and me and the rest of the cast filming the last bit of scenes for the next four months.” He reminds you gently.

“No one is happy about what he did to you, and no one will blame you for what happened, Kitten. No one will be upset if you struggle for a bit trying to get back into the mindset of your character and the swing of things with filming again. You’ve been through something traumatic, Sweetie, but we’re all here for you and will support you the best we can, okay? You just gotta tell us what you need and when you need it.

If you need a hug, just ask. If you need time to collect your thoughts, then tell someone and take it. If you need to scream and hit something, tell someone and we’ll take you to the workout area and you can punch the bag or we can hold the punching and kicking pads and you can rail on them all you like. But Honey, we can’t help if we don’t know what it is you need.” He tells you. “Don’t shut us out, okay? We want to help you. We want to see you overcome this obstacle and get better.”

You nod. “Okay, Bear,” You say. “can I have something hot to drink? And can we just have supper and sit, and you hold me while I have my ice cream and strawberries?” you inquire. Henry grins, “Of course, Kitten. Go get comfortable and I’ll get you something hot to drink and get your supper and then your treat.” He confirms. You reach out and hug him. “Thank you, my big Bear.” You whisper.” He smiles affectionately and rubs your back and cups the back of your head with his hand. “I’m here for you Kitten. Sorry I couldn’t keep this from happening to you, but I’m here for you now.” he whispers back.

You nod and let go of his neck. You gaze at his face that is almost even with yours now. His blue eyes are bright, and glassy, and the little fleck of brown is hidden under his lid as he looks up at you. You see the love and concern in his eyes, and you reach out and caress his stubbly cheek. You watch his eyes flutter closed when your fingers touch his cheek, and he swallows hard. You run your fingers along the chiseled jaw of your handsome friend, grateful for him being in your life right now. He takes your hand in his, kisses it gently and stands. He gives you a gentle nudge towards the sofa and turns to go in the kitchen to get your warm drink and then supper and your treat.

You go and sit gingerly on the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest and wincing as the bruises and your uterus, vagina and ass all protest the movement. You sigh and think about all the stuff the counselor said. Looking around, you notice some of Henry’s stuff is moved on the various shelves and your stuff has been added to the shelves in the living room. You wonder when he did it, but just shrug.

Henry comes over with your honey lemon tea, then goes back and cooks you another amazing soft meal for supper. Then you have your ice cream and strawberries again, and the two of you spend another evening just cuddling and talking. There’s four months of filming left then another month or so of press junkets and promotions for the film, then you both are done. You agree that the time can’t pass fast enough. You both are looking forward to October and time off.

He watches you as you eat and drink. Your eyes are closed, and you have a contented look on your face as you enjoy your indulgence. He wonders how Dan’s actions are going to affect the reception of the movie if this gets out. His brows furrow at the thought. He wonders how it will affect your career. This is your first movie and he had high hopes it would get you the good kind of recognition to jumpstart your career. You truly are a wonderful actress, and he hopes this doesn’t affect it. He is concerned that if word gets out of what happened you’ll be labeled as the one who ended his career with a rape and assault accusation. He sighs feeling incredibly concerned for you and your future.

You lean against his side as you eat your ice cream and start to feel cold. When you finish your treat, you set the bowl on the coffee table and whimper as your crotch protests the movements.

Henry rubs your back, and you curl up against him. “Bear, just hold me please. I’m cold and you’re a fucking furnace. I need to borrow your heat for a while.” You ask quietly and wrap your arms around his massive chest. He gives you a sad smile and does what you ask, resting his cheek on you head, one of his massive hands cradle the back of your head and the other is placed on your low back.

You hear his heart racing and feel him give you a tight squeeze. Closing your eyes, you let his warmth seep into you. His distinctive scent calming you and his powerful arms making you feel encased in a protective shell. His warm breath you feel on your head as the two of you just sit there and cuddle.

Henry holds you close as you lean into him and he feels his own heart racing. God, he loves you! He wishes he could act on it, but knows it would spell disaster right now with the way things have gone. It infuriates him that Dan knew about your condition and said nothing all during the party knowing he was looking for you. Henry wonders if you were even conscious during the party and wondered how long you had been laying there alone on your bed bleeding. He wonders what he would’ve done if he would’ve left the party and found you in the trailer unconscious and that injured. He held you tighter, not wanting to go that way with his thoughts any longer.

He rests his cheek against your hair and closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of your mint shampoo. It always calmed him smelling it and helped him focus after having to deal with Dan.

You talk about your hopes and dreams with Henry and he shares his. You both realize you have similar desires which makes the two of you smile. Henry picks you up and takes you to his bedroom. “How about we cuddle in bed, so we can fall asleep someplace more comfy?” he suggests. You nod, but are a little nervous. Henry understands your hesitation. “You okay, Kitten?” he asks as the two of you sit on the foot end of the bed.

You shrug. “I just don’t want to… to…” you aren't sure how to tell him what you’re feeling and the fear of losing your friendship with him if things turn intimate. You need his support right now and are afraid of what sharing a bed might do. Henry patiently waits for you to figure out how to put into words what you’re feeling. He sees a myriad of emotions play across your face and he is pretty sure he knows what you’re thinking.

“Kitten, would it make you feel better if we not share my bed?” he asks. “I understand you’re nervous and don’t want things between us to get fucked up, especially now. I get it, Kitten. I won’t push you. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep on the couch.” he says. Your eyes fly up to his. “Oh! No! If anyone should sleep on the couch it should be me, Hen! This is your trailer! I’m fine taking the couch.” you insist.

He tilts his head, uncertainty evident on his face. “You sure, Kitten?” he says, caressing your cheek. You know I won’t do anything to ruin this.” he says. “I know, Bear.” you tell him. “I just need to figure things out. There’s so much swirling in my head and I don’t have any idea how to describe what I’m feeling.” you try to explain. Henry nods.

He picks up two of his pillows and hands them to you, then pulls off the comforter for his bed and digs in a cabinet and pulls out a set of sheets. He nudges you to go back into the living room and he puts the sheets and pillows on the couch, then picks you up, kisses your nose and gently sets you on the make shift bed and covers you with the comforter. “Get some sleep and rest, Kitten. You know where to find me if you need me. You’re always welcome to come cuddle in my bed.” he tells you and caresses your head.

You nod, “Thanks Henry.” you say, and he nods and heads back into his room. He leaves the door ajar so he can hear if you’re having another nightmare.

The middle of the night Henry wakes to find you snuggled against his side. You’re wrapped like a burrito in his comforter and are using him for a pillow. He smiles, caresses your head, and wraps an arm around you then drifts off to sleep again.

More chapters to come...

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[musedblues]

Born To Love You [Part: 7]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there’s no telling if he even has a clue

a/n: I can't really believe I've finally finished this. If only you all knew how long this story sat in my drafts before I even considered sharing it. I'm eternally gratful to those of you who’ve stuck around and shared your thoughts and shown me and this fic such sweet love. I can only hope I've done some kind off justice in bringing this wild ride to a close. As always, and especially now,  I really can't wait to hear what you lot think. So here you have it.... The End! 💖

w/c: 4k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Even after all this time, not a moment passed that didn't dazzle you. No little gesture slipped by unnoticed, or underappreciated.

From across the room, you adored the way his eyes glowed as he laughed. How they shined and crinkled in a pattern you'd memorized long before you were brave enough to stare. How they always sparkled just so when he spun into a fit of giggles, a sound you couldn't help but turn toward.

Joe tossed his head back, letting out a hearty chuckle as James and Andy filled him in on the details of their recently disastrous road trip. For their anniversary, they planned to cruise around the countryside for a week. But a flat tire, and a run in with a couple wild animals sent them running back to London before the week was up.

You couldn't have gotten luckier, when you found the perfect house in the safest part of the city with the best schools; just a half an hour drive from where James and Andy had moved a couple years before- after living with you for longer than you could recall in a flash.

They helped you move boxes from your old flat, and stood with you in the empty place, taking a  silent beat to say goodbye to all the life you each lived there. You'd fondly remember the parties, and even the tears. The day you found out about Olive. The room you brought her home to. The place you loved. But it was never the same after your dear flatmates found a home of their own.

On their generous drives to help you unload boxes in an all new place, that's when your pair of best pals really got to know Joe. They (like everyone else) laughed at most of his jokes, and beamed when he laughed at theirs in turn. When they weren't helping you unload boxes, they were off cackling with Joe, too awestruck by shared conversation to help you move your sofa into a reasonable spot.

And when you and your man with fossil colored eyes were settled, James and Andy still managed to stop by for plenty of surprise breakfast visits. And every time they stopped over, they each took turns insisting that their location was the sole purpose you'd been so keen to move to this part of the city. And while they might have been half right, you'd never let on that it was one of the many reasons.

London just made sense. It was closer to Gwil's new place. He'd been traveling to and from the city for work so often that he'd felt like his usual train car was more of his home than the one down the road from your old flat. So he found a cozy space just outside of London and loads more work within the first few days of settling in. When he wasn't busy on set, or away for an audition, he was just a few streets away- ready and willing to come and take Olive on days he hadn't planned to, at her beck and call.

Some days you missed when all Olive knew how to say were a handful of words. But you knew you'd soon miss all of the girls never ending questions, too. "Why can't cats talk?" "Where do all the badgers sleep at night?" "Why do I have to wear socks with my shoes?" She had a knack for asking the silliest questions when you least expected it. She'd come out of no place while you were busy making dinner. While she should have been practicing tying her shoes. In the dead of the night, at the edge of your bed. She'd stop everything just to ask a question or two, and some days you reckoned she fancied getting you to giggle more than hearing an actual answer. You always chuckled before you could muster the brain power to give any semblances of an educated response. And when you were too busy, getting ready for work, or hurrying about the market before it closed, Olive would ask Joe.

You loved the way Olive made him laugh then, too. Just like you. But before ever giving a reasonable answer, he'd always ask her the same questions back. "Well, what do you think is at the bottom of the ocean?"

And as she decidedly rambled about imaginary creatures and cities, Joe would listen. He'd even remember the names of some of those made up monsters long after Olive had moved through several more memorable questions. You couldn't believe how patient he was. It was astounding to you, the way Joe dropped everything to bend at Olive's will, as she wrapped her fist around his wrist and yanked him across a bookstore toward the children's section.

You'd find them after getting what you strolled in for, and join in for story time, before checking your watch and ruining all the fun. Joe was usually more disappointed for those moments to end than the kid who was hooked on his every fictional word.

You loved Joe's heart. How you could tell when it was in the right place. When he offered help and advice and suggestions to anyone who trusted him enough to pour their heart out to his open ear. How he at least pretended to be excited when your friends begged the two of you to join in a night out at the end of a particularly busy week. Neither of you were keen on letting them down, because you'd come to value those rare nights out with the people you loved. You'd made a sacred, personal decreed to never let your friends forget how vastly you'd cared for them. So you were right behind Joe each time another offer came to sit among your pals and listen to their lame jokes and drunken singing.

But it was no secret that nights in were your favorite. You might have marveled even more so, over Joe's heart, then. You relished how it hammered under your palm, as his pulse raced from your touch. You loved the sound of its steady beat under your ear, as you rested against his chest till morning. He'd run a lazy set of fingers through your hair while the quiet of the new day threatened to lull you to sleep again. Then he'd say something so ridiculously hilarious that you'd laugh your drowse away.

You never took for granted Joe's countless attempts to get you to smile, despite yourself. In the middle of movies, at the end of long hard days- and during times you wondered how much stress you could endure before your head exploded and your dramatic expiration ruined the upcoming holidays.

When you and Gwilym argued over Olive's imminent school year and how many summer holiday trips were one too many, Joe waited for the bickering to end. Then he'd say something that made stupidly perfect sense. He'd make you and Gwil  apologize to each other, and you did with all the grace of two grumpy toddlers. Then you'd all go to some posh brunch place and try and enjoy the last of the perfect summer weather that crept into the first few weeks of London's picturesque autumn.

Olive would stop eating to ask one of her latest queries to the sweet elder waitress who dropped off another round of drinks. You'd all take turns giving the kid answers, and steal bits of the chips she'd left over. When your meal was finished, Joe and Gwil went off to see a game together, and you were left with your darling girl for a whole glorious day.

Times with just the two of you weren't very rare. When you could, you made sure to take afternoons off work and save the laundry for later to spend a day with Olive. Of course, some were just as difficult as ever. But between odd growing pains and missed nap times, were icecream dates and trips to the aquarium. The latter, a place she always begged to spend hours strolling through. So when you could, you'd be quick to take her.

And when Gwilym took Olive along to visit his mother's family in Wales, you'd gotten used to the tiny wave of melancholy that came when your girl wasn't attached to your hip. But unlike all the other times before, you weren't nearly as lonely.

When it was just you and Joe, and a handful of days to waste however you pleased, you had to stop yourself from wondering how you'd gotten so lucky. You knew if you thought too long, you'd start to feel bad about how everything came to be. But you learned to let go of the regret attached to the mess you'd made during your first month long visit to London. You realized that it was silly to wish for a redo. Because everything worked out anyway, didn't it?

Joe was always quick to remind you how lucky he felt, too. Sometimes he'd say so, when he worried about the future and stopped rambling long enough to let you promise everything was going to be okay. Or first thing in the morning, when you got to wake up with the sun instead of a blaring alarm. But most of the time, he showed it. He'd leave silly little notes for you to find while you brushed your teeth. He'd bring your knuckles to his lips while waiting in the queue at the market. He'd take photos of you walking through the park and pointing to a pair of birds flying close overhead. He'd upload them in the middle of the night- when he said he was staying up to finish writing a script, or memorizing lines of another.

You'd get the notification and smile to yourself while you pretended to be asleep in the other room. When it was just you and Joe, it felt too good to be true. But that feeling didn't go away when your time alone was over.

Ben asked you to fetch him from the airport after he'd spent months away filming in another country. You and Joe fought over who got to hug him first, but when the blonde materialized from baggage claim, his arms were too stuffed with packages to dream of embracing either of you. He'd collected far too many presents during his time away- all of them for Olive. You scolded him, reminding Ben of the article you read about how kids with fewer toys grew to become more creative and resourceful. Ben argued that since you weren't going to spoil her that he was just going to have to. He'd leave the dozen gifts in the back of your car, and drag you and Joe out to a pub until you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Life felt too good to be true on nights like then, too.

And the feeling remained when Lucy and Rami got back from acting their hearts out in America. They stole Olive away as you and Joe ambled behind them on trips through high end shopping centres. When that day turned to night, your remarkable friends settled onto your sofa to tell all the stories they'd been saving up. Then they crashed there, when the night turned to morning and the sun threatened to rise before you'd stopped giggling long enough to sleep.

Those times were cherished. When your friends came around. When you went out of your way to go and see them, because it had been too long. You knew you were lucky to have mantiatiend a handful of connections with some of the most adoring and admirable friends that must have ever existed.

And on some especially rare, but guaranteed occasions, everyone got together.

The thought of joining forces was usually a never ending sentiment exchanged through the group chat that kept you all in touch. But it was Lucy's eventual doing, of course. She went about renting that darling little cottage in the countryside- the one she'd found last minute for Joe's birthday.

She got there before everyone, before Rami, even. The paint was a little more chipped, and the trees seemed even more mighty, guarding the home nestled miles away from the nearest town.

"You're just in time!" Lucy squealed as you lugged a bag into the house that hadn't changed a bit since your stay a few years back. You snorted a laugh as you stepped closer to the den full of mismatched furniture.

"For what?" You wondered. No one else had shown up yet, the night was very young.

"To keep me company, duh." Lucy shrugged as she moved to wave out of the open front door.

"Does bigfoot live out here?" Olive asked, as she skipped inside, her beloved worn down stuffed penguin tight in her clutch.

"He might." You chuckled. Because hell, you'd come to believe anything was possible at this point. And you didn't realize Olive even knew about the mythical creature, but you had a hunch about who'd been the one to tell her.

"I can't believe this place is still standing. It's charming as ever." Joe marveled, shutting the door behind him. Lucy beamed, turning to glance around.

"Yes! Remember last time?" Lucy asked, like she really wanted to know. Like it wasn't something the lot of you thought back to often. And right when you considered responding, she spoke up again. "Well forget it because this time is going to be the best ever."

The bubbly blonde recruited Joe to help her finish unloading all the treats she'd brought along to store away for the entire weekend you planned to stay. Olive trotted ahead of you toward one of the dozen tiny rooms you remembered struggling to sleep in last time, finding no reason to bite back your smile now.

It was too cold to think of going out back to enjoy the chest full of sporting goods, or the tattered net that somehow still remained. Olive was already complaining about the chill, so you abandoned your bags and tossed her a sweater, deciding to start a fire in the stone place while you awaited everyone else.

Ben was the next to arrive, bringing his usual ton of liquor and a brand new set of books and crayons to keep Olive entertained. You flashed a middle finger his way when the kid wasn't looking, and called dibs on his most expensive bottle of booze he brought to decorate the counter tops much like the time before.

By then the kitchen had been stocked, and Lucy was on a new mission to make some Pinterest worthy snacks. You scolded Ben for encouraging Olive to dance around the countertops and banished them to find some new trouble to cause. Lucy kicked you and Joe out soon after, following close behind with her plate of savory treats.

Rami dashed in from the cold around then, chucking his bags away and rushing to join the rest of you in record time. The fire you'd maintained was starting to die, and the home was too perfectly warmed to dream of starting up another, for a while. So as the evening shifted, you and Ben offered to clean up and carry everyone's rubbish away, while Joe offered to pour everyone a drink. While you went about your duties, Olive was busy yanking on the strings of Rami's hooding, begging him to join in some imaginary game the two of them made up long ago.

"I'm really glad she's joined us this time around." Ben grinned, catching a glimpse of Olive, her curls peeking around the corner, her laughter floating from one room to another. You agreed with the sentiment as you tossed your collection of rubbish in the bin. And as he followed suit, Ben rambled about his high hopes to have a couple of children of his own one day. It was something you'd always suspected Ben was keen on, but a subject he'd only just ventured into discussing lately.

"You ever think about having anymore?" He wondered in passing.

"Sometimes." You smiled to Ben, offering an innocent shrug, before catching Joe's eye from across the kitchen. He balanced a trio of glasses of wine on his way out, shaking his head of coppery hair. He shot you a look you knew well, an eager grin below a set of fiery eyes. "Sometimes" was an understatment. But Ben didn't need to know everything.

By the time Gwil showed up, Olive was on cloud nine. She ran to attach herself to his ankle, so you took his bags while he bent to scoop her up. Then, you reckoned, that this might have been the first time everyone was together that Olive might be able to recall for years to come.

She bounced from one person to another, showing off nicely colored pictures in the books Ben had brought along. He shot you a wink from across the room before she fell asleep with a dozen sunset toned crayons in one fist. You gathered her from the floor and carried the girl to the room you'd chosen hours earlier.

And before you'd even finished tucking the kid away in bed, another set of feet creaked into the room behind you.

"Here's this. And some things she forgot last time." Gwilym extended Olives favorite stuffed penguin in one hand as he rested a bag decorated in cartoon drawn bats on the chair in the corner. Your tradition of trading the girls things might never end. You'd be rattled if it did, actually.

"Oh, thank God. I mean, I know I asked you not to forget that, but I'd forgotten." You chuckled in a whisper, tucking Olive's ratty old penguin beneath the covers at her side.

Gwilym chuckled too, saying something about how he'd nearly left her bag behind on his rush to get here before nightfall. And then a silence fell, as you both waited a beat to make sure Olive was out cold. It was second nature, something the pair of you became accustomed to after the first year, when leaving Olive alone for a minute was usually followed with unhappy, ear piercing cries. And as you thought back to then, you seemed to think back to everything all at once.

"Lucy said that last time we stayed here won't be worth remembering, because this time will surely be the best." You said with a lithe grin. "And I think she may be right, but last time wasn't so bad."

"It wasn't?" Gwilym turned to you with a quizzically raised brow, a hint of a smile on his lips. You knew he was asking if you were sure. If you remembered correctly. How he'd said things he didn't mean, last time you were here. How you hardly slept that night. How it haunted you for days afterward. How he knew that.

"It wasn't." You kept your smile, sure. It could have been much worse. You could have been alone through all of that shit. But you weren't. You had Gwilym. And you hoped he knew what you meant, now. How grateful you were for him, and the kindness he'd show you, how it still remained. You couldn't go on worrying that his company might fizzle away in the years to come. Because it couldn't. You wouldn't let that possibility come to pass. So you bumped your shoulder against his arm and nudged Gwilym to leave the room.

"Let's go have some fun." You whispered. Gwilym let his smile linger as he studdied you for a beat. Then he nodded, and led the way back to everyone else.

The coloring books had moved to rest on the mantel, and bottles of alcohol had moved to the coffee table for easier access. And then you all took turns cleaning up for the evening and flipping through stations on the telly till some classic film flashed across the muted screen. And it was lots better than last time, with familiar drinks mixed in fancy new ways, and favorite laughs decorating the old unchanged home.

By the time Ben had drunken himself into a fit of random laughter, and Gwilym was nodding off between Rami and Lucy, Joe was saying something about American traditions. He demanded everyone's attention, and insisted the lot of you confess at least one thing you were thankful for. And after Lucy shouted the name of the drink in her hand and Gwilym sat up to clink his cup to hers, you all started giving actual answers. Each revolving around family, and friends, and health and happiness. But before anyone could get too choked up, Ben stood to shift gears with his favorite game of drunk history that never really went the way he wanted it too.

But it wasn't till the next morning that you realized it must have been that silly American holiday. And when you rolled over to find Joe was already awake, you announced how poorly you felt for not realizing when he made everyone say thanks. You hadn't even said good morning before you started yammering promises about how you'd remember to have a proper celebration next year.

But instead of saying good morning, or acknowledging your apologises, Joe broke into a laugh. The kind of laugh that reaches his eyes, the way you love so much. Then he told you he loved you, and you said it back; and then you sprung into another lucky day among friends.

You spent the weekend watching Gwilym teach Olive how to bake and assisting her in passing around treats she helped pour spoonfulls of ingredients in to create. Rami was most often roped into her imaginary games, and he played along with ease. You and Joe were invited to join in one morning, but neither of you could grasp the ever changing rules to Olives satisfaction, and you were swiftly kicked out of the loop while she and Rami played on.

Lucy made sure Olive was perfectly content snuggled up with Ben to watch cartoons, before she pulled you into her room with a bottle of wine for each of you to sip from. You spent a whole afternoon there with her, taking turns spilling your guts over all things you could only discuss with your dearest darling Lucy.

And when the getaway was over, everyone left in separate hurries much like before. But unlike then, you weren't so worried about where everyone might end up. You weren't worried about where you were going, either. You'd all managed to keep coming back together so far, and with an established faith that your group would keep finding excuses to do so, you didn't despair.

You remembered everything, on your drive back to London. The time you'd closed your eyes on this ride, years before. How you and Gwilym survived the nonsense you'd swept yourselves up in. Lucy's unconditional friendship. Rami's strong hugs. Ben's strong feelings.

You thought of what Joe said to you, when you met. How he said he saw a future with you, before he even knew your name. And the thought tore you away from remembering everything to look ahead. To look over, and settle your gaze on Joe. His pretty profile, and the shine of his moonstone eyes. You couldn't quite picture the places you'd end up, but you realize that you couldn't dream of a day without Joe at your side. He was always meant to be there.

While you drove, he entertained every one of Olive's questions that echoed from the back seat. You turned a grateful smile his way every now and again and savored the way he smiled back, in the way you loved so much. In a way that you didn't have to wonder how he felt, or what might come next. Unlike before, Joe made up a million of your memories. And unlike before, you knew he always would.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

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[some-lists]

All the Disney Princesses Ranked From Worst to Best.

(Sorry, no Vanellope.)

14. Merida

I know Merida has really badass archery skills. She’s also outspoken, strong willed, and clever. But she’s still my least favorite princess. I just didn’t like her. Maybe it’s the fact that she wanted to change her mom. And she actually went through with it. Of course, she didn’t actually know what was going to happen, and the journey brought them closer together. She grew as a character and that’s good. But just seeing her disrespect her mother, especially publicly in front of all the clans, is hard to watch. It doesn’t help that I thought Brave was one of Pixar’s weaker movies and essentially Brother Bear all over again.

13. Anna

Not gonna lie. I hate Anna. She’s so damn pushy and combative. I know, it’s all her parents’ fault. All of it. But still. She doesn’t listen to Elsa at all. She pushes and pushes triggering Elsa’s ice outbursts, which become more visible as they build along with her anxiety. Every uncontrolled “accident” Elsa has in the first film is because Anna didn’t listen to her. Of course, she also didn’t listen to Elsa’s warning about marrying Hans either. She foolishly left the kingdom in the hands of an outsider, someone she didn’t even know.

She definitely shows improvement in the second film. She becomes more sensitive towards Elsa’s feelings and her powers. She’s also very loyal and brave, risking her life for Elsa, yet again. She’s still very clingy and desperate for people’s love. It manifests in her fear of losing Elsa and Kristoff. I do not like her humor or awkwardness. I don’t find them relatable, but rather annoying. But I do appreciate that those insecurities are real and that’s what makes her more relatable. Her relationships with the other characters, especially Olaf, is what saves her from being last on my list.

12. Tiana

There’s nothing wrong Tiana. I think she’s great. She’s hardworking, determined, and a realist. Those are great qualities that I’m glad Disney decided to focus on too. The downside of this is that she comes across as rather boring. The film relies on other more colorful characters to bring the personality and charm. I think that’s a shame. She also suffers from starring in a weaker film.

11. Aurora

I like Aurora. What little we see of her anyway. We can tell by the way she interacts with the fairies, woodland creatures, and Prince Philip that she’s smart, sweet, shy, kind, cautious. She’s a dreamer, but not foolish. It’s too bad we didn’t get to see more of her.

10. Snow White

Snow White, in my opinion, does not get the respect she deserves. Was she stupid to take that apple from the very obviously evil hag? Yes, she was. But people have forgotten all about the really great qualities she possessed too. When she walked into the dwarfs’ cottage, it was a disgusting, unlivable nightmare. The dwarfs were pigs. They didn’t clean their home or themselves. They bickered all the time. Snow White changed all of that. She created order where there was disorder. And she didn’t do it alone. She delegated chores to each of the animals and made sure they did them right. That’s some managerial skills! She got a bunch of unruly little men to wash, sleep at a decent time, and behave. That’s authority. Those are some real life skills I wish I had more of. Yes, she cooked, cleaned, and sewed, but Snow White wasn’t a servant. She was in charge.

9. Cinderella

Like Snow White, Cinderella has gotten a bad rap over time, but I will defend Cinderella anytime anywhere. Those who say she “needed a prince to save her” lack compassion and are completely missing the point. Cinderella was a young woman who was abused by what family she had left. At a young age she experienced loss, grief, then neglect and emotional abuse. But Cinderella was resilient. That abuse didn’t stop her and it didn’t change her. She could’ve become mean, bitter, and jealous. She could’ve continued the cycle of abuse like her stepsisters. But Cinderella didn’t allow their mistreatment to define her. She remained kind, empathetic, patient, humble, and hardworking. She also didn’t allow herself to become a victim. She didn’t mope or give up on herself. When the ball was announced, she worked hard and believed she would go. When she got help from the fairy godmother, she accepted it and rocked that ball gown. She didn’t go to the ball to be rescued. She went because she wanted to, and she did. Moral of the story is do not let others’ treatment of you determine who you are or what you’re worth. Cinderella had awesome inner strength.

8. Ariel

I will admit that as an adult, Ariel’s appeal fades. She made really bad choices and sacrificing her voice for a boy is a terrible message to sell to kids. But for a 5 year old girl, only two things mattered. She was a mermaid and she could sing. The Little Mermaid kick started Disney’s renaissance and set a new precedent for its movies. Unlike previous princesses, Ariel was the first princess full of life, passion, and adventure. She had an exciting and lovable personality and a Broadway singing voice. Credit goes to Jodi Benson for bringing Ariel to life and the writers for getting the world to fall in love with her. She made a huge impression (hello, mermaid craziness everywhere!), even if she was a total idiot teenager.

7. Jasmine

What’s great about Jasmine is she can see through people’s BS and she doesn’t put up with it. She isn’t impressed by the superficial suitors that come her way. She stands up to Jafar. She catches on pretty immediately that Prince Ali is actually Aladdin. She sings like Lea Salonga, Disney and Broadway legend, and she has a pet tiger. What’s not to love?

6. Pocahontas

Pocahontas was the first Disney princess to not go after her dreams, but instead chose family, community, duty, loyalty. That’s incredibly mature and selfless. She taught a racist, arrogant, ignorant man to love and respect others different from him. She followed her intuition, was one nature, and dove off cliffs. The only minus is falling for John Smith over Kokoam. I don’t know what she was thinking!

5. Moana

Moana is not qualified for her mission. She has no experience and no skills required for sailing across the sea, finding Maui, and defeating a lava monster. But it’s her purpose. She was chosen. So she sets out and figures it out along the way. That’s an inspiring example. It’s not until the end that we find out why she was chosen. She sees Te Ka for who she truly is. Te Fiti. The image above is one of the most powerful moments in all of Disney’s films.

4. Rapunzel

Similar to Cinderella, Rapunzel has been abused throughout her childhood. IMO, Rapunzel had it worse because she believed Mother Gothel was her mother. Their relationship was nonstop manipulation, infantilization, and gaslighting. But Rapunzel was brave enough to go after what she wanted and smart enough to find a way to do it. On top of that, she was creative and artistic, incredibly strong from years of hauling Mother Gothel up the tower, and had magical hair with healing powers. In the end, she does what we didn’t get to see in Cinderella. She stands up for herself and confronts her abuser. She’s a real survivor and victor.

3. Belle

I love Belle because she is a true introvert and a true individual. She’s not very social, doesn’t gossip, doesn’t fawn over Gaston, doesn’t follow the townsfolk’s way of life. She literally just does her own thing. For that, she’s misunderstood and judged by the village. I think that’s very relatable. But she’s also intelligent, curious, adventurous, honorable (she keeps her promise to stay with the Beast), and stands up to the Beast when he’s out of line. She’s the only one that truly challenges the Beast and he grows because of it. And she saves him.

2. Mulan

Similar to Belle, Mulan is a bit of an outcast, because she’s individualistic in a society that values conformity. She’s socially awkward, clumsy, but brave. That bravery saves her father and all of China. She’s a true badass warrior.

1. Elsa

Elsa is technically not a princess, but a queen. She still counts and she tops my list. Out of all the Disney princesses, she is the most real and fully developed. She’s beautiful, kind, brave, strong, but also very flawed. Many people have identified with Elsa in different ways because her flaws are so real and so relatable. The LGBTQ community has adopted her as a symbol of their own. For me personally, I see a mental health issue. I think she’s a highly sensitive person with anxiety. Her ice powers are a beautiful symbol for that anxiety and the struggle over her mental health. Her journey to accept herself for who she is, to embrace herself for who she is, and to find her place in a world that deems her different is truly beautiful and empowering.

[khhunniewriting]

Rockstars Don’t Pout

Debuting as a rapper wasn’t easy. There was a lot of work to be done not just by you but the team supporting you as well. That is why you took your career so seriously and put work ahead of everything. 

For two years you did nothing but work. All your free time was dedicated to music and lyrics. Your hands littered with pen markings as you often twidled the pen in your hand causing the various colors of ink to decorate your skin. On occasion, there was a mark on your chin from when you tapped the pen in thought. 

Your dedication brought you great success but also had great repercussions. At one moment you were doing too many shows a week, straining your voice. When you woke up one morning, unable to speak, your label stepped in to put you on hiatus until you fully recovered.

As a professional who depended on her voice, you knew you had messed up and vowed to listen to the advice of others.

During your hiatus, you still visited the studios using your phone to communicate through text with everyone you encountered. On one such visit, you happen upon your Million Market labelmate Suran. She was your senior but also a good friend who understood your need to work even when you weren’t allowed.

“Oh, Y/N!” Suran waved to you prompting you to do the same.

You would have quickly run over and sprung into conversation with her if it wasn’t for the two men who accompanied her. 

Suran excused herself from the men to shuffle over to you. She was beaming from excitement as she told you all about her current project. “We’re going to go record Changmo’s part. Do you want to come along?”

You nodded immediately aching to be in a familiar environment once more even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Great!” Suran held your hand, pulling you towards the two men who had patiently waited. “Hope you don’t mind I bring along a friend.”

That’s how you met Changmo.

The adorable giant who stole your heart.

“It’s just hard to believe that I finally got to meet you and you can’t speak.” He found it hard to believe that someone with such a strong voice could suddenly lose it. “How long do you have to recover?”

Two weeks. This is the fourth day of the second week. But I will continue hiatus until the end of Spring.

Under your mask, you blushed at the thought of what you wanted to type. Your fingers quickly carried out what you knew you could never voice even if you weren’t sick. 

If you want we can meet next week.

Changmo’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he read it over and over again in disbelief. “Are you asking me out?”

The sudden boldness was gone. You looked away, to the side now self-consciously giving a shy nod.

Your mask covered your blushing face but the moment you turned Changmo caught sight of your ears turning red. How cute, he thought to himself never realizing he too had started to redden.

“Okay.”

That was nearly over a year ago.

Now you two were officially in a relationship. A rapper from Million Market and a rapper/producer from Illionaire... your schedules could not be more different. When your label was bought by SM you found yourself being worked harder than ever before. (I got beef with SM)

Your schedule seemed much more like that of a kpop group idol than a solo hip hop rapper. There were constant trips, tours, fan meetings, advertisements,  sponsorships... many things you had never done. 

“Sorry,” you clung to Changmo as you apologized for the hundredth time. Your plans to stay with him were interrupted when you received notice of your flight change.

Changmo groaned at the loss of your warmth as you pulled away to start changing. “I thought you were leaving tomorrow night.”

“I was but somehow that information got leaked and the company doesn’t want me to be swarmed by the fans so they changed it.” You quickly picked your hair up into a somewhat messy bun knowing the stylist would do something about your tangled tresses later. One last look in the mirror confirmed you looked suitable enough.

When you turned back around you caught your boyfriend pouting. “Awww~” you cooed rounding the bed to his side so you could kiss him. 

Changmo wrapped his arms around your waist bringing you back down onto the bed and rolling over to trap you under him. His lips moving perfectly in tune with yours until there was a need for air. 

“You can’t go.”

“I have to.” Once again he pouted prompting you to kiss him again. “Rockstars don’t pout.”

“Shut up,” he playfully shot back before silencing you with his lips. He did not want to let go of you when he had just gotten you back. “You’re going to get sick if you keep working like this.”

“You work a lot too...” You didn’t like to voice your complains in order to avoid sounding jealous or needy. Even if you knew they were just fans, it was hard sharing your boyfriend with all his fans. “Besides, you won’t miss me when you being recording for Show Me The Money.”

“I always miss you,” he fought back looking offended by your accusation. Even if he was busy Changmo always thought about you, what you were doing, if you had slept well- things like that.

\\\

You went from country to country trying to boost the sales of your new EP Album. It was going great until you began feeling lethargic. More time in the makeup chair was needed to hide all signs of fatigue before going out in public.

“Girl these eyebags,” your stylist commented as she dabbed another layer of concealer.

“I know, don’t even tell me about it.” Your eyes went to your lap where your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a notification of an incoming text from Changmo. You quickly unlocked the screen and read its contents feeling alive once more. It was like Changmo had read your mind.

Changmo: I miss you

You: I miss you too ❤

True to his word, Changmo missed you during the filming of the show. Often he wished you would be waiting at home for him on those nights when he would arrive late. Even if you were asleep it was comforting to know you were within reach.

It didn’t help that one of the contestants used a beat from one of your new songs that day, bringing attention to his relationship. All he could do was smile proudly at the fact that he was able to see how your hard work paid off. 

Later he learned there were plenty of people around him hoping to meet you.

Changmo: Why are you so popular with younger guys?

You: I am?!?!

Changmo: Even Superbee likes you.

You: He’s the same age as you.

Changmo: How do you know that?

You: Google

Changmo laughed imagining you quickly googling Superbee’s age to make a point. It was interesting how quick you were to google something. There were times when he would ask something trivial out loud and in a matter of seconds you would have an answer for him.

It continued this way for a couple of months. The two of you giving little anecdotes about your day. Sometimes there was nothing to say or no time to say it. The time zones really messed you up.

You: Are you awake?

Changmo: Yeah, it’s only 12:00 here.

You: Oh! It’s already bedtime here.

Changmo: Why aren’t you sleeping?

You: I can’t sleep.

Changmo: You miss me that much?

You: 🙄

Changmo: 💔

\\\

At the end of promotions, you went back home exhausted both mentally and physically. Your sleep cycle was completely out of order as you slept through the day and woke up at night.

It was 6:00 am, the room was encased in the natural soft lighting of a new morning as the sun began to rise steadily in the sky.“Good morning,” Changmo sarcastically bid you as you finally went to bed.

You groaned at the headache that was currently making it hard for you to enjoy the sight of your awakening prince. “I fell asleep in the closet.”

“What were you doing there?” He couldn’t help but laugh.

The two of you shared a giant walk-in closet where you fell asleep as you began unpacking from your trip. It was hard to say when you fell asleep but when you woke up, the back of your head on the hard wooden floor, your back awkwardly molding to the clothes you had spilled out of your suitcase, you knew it had to have been a while.

“I don’t know...” you whined snuggling up to him. 

Changmo was startled by how cold you were. He braved through it to wrap his arms around you and soothe you back to sleep. He hoped you would be able to wake up in a few hours and stop your vampiric sleeping practices.

He stayed in bed as long as he could. It was obvious you were in a deep sleep by the way you lightly began to snore. His fingers grazed your face when he pushed back your hair. 

Once it was 9:00 am he knew he had to get up. “Y/N...” he pressed his soft plush lips against your forehead, “wake up.”

“You wake up-” you muttered, eyes still shut.

“I am but I can’t get up if you keep clinging to me like this.” 

Your hold on him only tightened even adding your legs to the mix, wrapping them around him as if you were a koala and he was your favorite tree. 

“Just stay with me~”

He wanted to but he had a busy schedule so he left.

Pretty soon everyone started to speculate whether you two were still together adding a new talking point to your short conversations.

“Come with me.” Changmo held your hand requesting you to go out with him on an impromptu date.

“I can’t,” you sadly denied. “The company wants me to remain out of the public eye for a little while.” Their goal was to keep from any more unnecessary junk posts online about you.

They thought that if you suddenly appeared with Changmo on the streets it would be admitting that you two had problems and are only going out for publicity’s sake. 

It didn’t sit well with Changmo.

“Who cares.” He didn’t like the changes that came with your label being, in a sense, changed.

Your jaw went slack questioning how he could just admit that. “This is my work- if I don’t follow the rules then...”

Changmo sighed, “I know but this is also about you and me- our personal life.” He let go of your hand but sat down beside you. “I know we’re together so I don’t care what they say online. I just want to be able to take you with me when I go places.”

“Me too but if I don’t follow the rules there could be consequences. What if they are right and a new story blows up about us. They are the ones that have to work hard to handle the backlash.” You just didn’t want to inconvenience anyone other than yourself.

“I’m going on tour soon.”

“I know,” you tried your best to smile.

He just wanted to be with you as long as he could before leaving. “Dating a rapper is hard.,” he concluded.

“I know, right?”

The two of you laughed knowing how the other felt. It wasn’t easy but

“But I love you too much,” Changmo confessed as if he had ever thought about breaking up with you. Even if it was inconvenient or frustrating to squeeze a relationship in between schedules- he would never give it up.

You wrapped your arms around him, clinging onto him tightly as punishment for making your heart race.

“I love you too.”

-end-

A/N: I think this is more fluff but oh well. I just couldn’t bear to make a near-breakup scene for this cutie ^^

[ajokeformur-ray]

Omg gush abt your parental f/os! Anything you want to say abt them! ❤️

I’ve been so on edge and so anxious and so desperately in need of my parental F/Os today and this ask made me burst into tears ohhhh omg🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank you, Anaya. Thank you so so so much!!💖💖💖💖

Sorry for any typos omg I’m legitimately crying right now, I love them so much.

Under a cut so people can skip🥰

If, at any point, I could have saved Henry or Edward or both of them, I would have died right there and then in the laboratory. I would have sacrificed my entire life with them; even go so far as to never be their daughter in the first place, if it meant that my dad(s) survived and that Mary wasn’t left all alone. I am fiercely protective of them and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I can’t think for too long on what happens because I will burst into ugly sobbing - snot and everything. I’ve known the terrible truth since I was sixteen and it still hurts as freshly as it did the day I found out about how it all ends.

I want them so badly. I want to go downstairs into the kitchen and say “mama”. I want Mary to turn around and I want to see her face soften into affection as she puts down whatever she’s doing and comes to give me a hug. I want to break down in her arms and I want to know I’m safe; Mary’s been through trauma, too, and she understands. She knows what it’s like and she’s proud of me and of my strength... but I want to hear her say it to me. I want Henry to hug me of his own accord, without me having to ask first, and I want him to say “my brave girl. I’m so proud of you, our daughter”. I want to hear my bedroom door creak open when I’m trying to sleep and I want to feel the mattress dip, to feel Edward’s hand on my shoulder as he alerts me to his presence (even though I already knew, because he and I share the closest connection of my three parents). I want to roll over and cuddle my papa and I want to know I’m safe and loved. I want Edward to tell me that even though he does bad things and even though he once literally trampled someone to death just because he was bored, that he would never do that to me because I’m his daughter and he loves me as much as I love him.

I want them to brush my hair and to braid it. I want Henry to sit with me in front of the fire in his study and talk to me about anything he wants to. Even if I don’t understand what he’s talking about, just his voice can chase away everything bad in my life. I want Edward to go with me for a walk at 3 AM. I want to wake up in a bed which isn’t mine, even though the room’s familiar... to wake up in Henry’s home. I love them, so much, and even when I first was introduced to the book and the film, it was like I was already familiar with everything... like I’d been there before. I feel so raw and so vulnerable and nothing’s really going right and everything’s so wrong and my parents always make me feel safe and warm and whole.

They’re so beautiful and I love all of them so much. I was conceived on a night with Edward, but I’m Henry’s daughter, too, and I want to hear him say it. My family is unusual but I love them for it and as I said, I would die to give them a happy ending. In a way, that happy ending is me... but it’s not enough. They deserve more than just me and every day I try to be someone they can be proud of. I want to hug them all one by one and tell them I love them... and I especially want to be reassured that Edward loves me... he’s the darkest side, and he’s the side I connect most deeply to overall. He’s very special to me and I just wish I could look into his eyes, Henry and Edward at once, and see him looking back. 

I’m craving my parents and I hope they can feel me. They’re all so full of pain but they have learned to be patient and within that they fell in love. What happens is horrible (if you know the original novella then you already know, but add romance to the mix and it’s even more tragic) and I wish I could change it, I truly do. They’re beautiful and intelligent and tragic, as individuals and as the dynamic they share, and I want to bask in it forevermore. 

Thank you for this ask, Anaya!!!

[ducktracy]

166. steamlined greta green (1937)

release date: june 19th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: berneice hansell (junior), mel blanc (bartender)

it’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it?

the title appropriated from the song “greta green”, streamlined greta green chronicles the adventures of a little car who wishes to grow up into a taxi cab, much to the chagrin of his mother, who wishes he’d follow the footsteps of his father and become a touring car. tex avery would expand upon this premise 14 years later with his own short, one cab’s family, where the little child wants to be a sleek hot-rod instead of a taxi like his father. interesting to see how times change!

“lullaby of broadway” underscores a busy street scene as we open. trolleys, cars, you name it, all narrowly avoid crashing as they bottleneck through a busy (and poorly regulated) intersection. two cars inevitably crash together, spurring an altercation. reducing the anthropomorphic cars’ dialogue to nothing but furious honking through means of a muffled trumpet is a wonderful touch, furthering the whimsicality of the short as a whole. angry exchanges morph into a heated wrestling match--suspension of disbelief works well as a nearby stoplight turns red and signals the cars to stop. they take a breather at opposite ends of the “ring”, and once the stop sign turns green again, they go back at it. the scene itself is reminiscent of the epic sequence in porky the wrestler where the entire wrestling ring is transformed into a train. perhaps not as exaggerated, but still enough to warrant praise.

fret not--the majority of cars seem to uphold a camaraderie as we hone in on a taxi dance hall. jaunty animation of anthropomorphic cars dancing together fill the scene inside (as does some sign gags, one sign reading “five can dance as cheap as one”), accompanied by a chorus of the title song. by this point, the merrie melodies songs were on their way out the door. i don’t believe i mentioned it before (probably too preoccupied by digesting the racism of the cartoon), but the merrie melody before this, uncle tom’s bungalow, was the first merrie melody to exclude a song entirely. the songs were a detriment to the cartoons rather than a bonus, and as a result, the songs themselves became much more halfhearted in the cartoons they were featured in. here is no exception.

all of the taxi cabs are happily dancing together. all except one, a lady taxi sitting politely aside with nary a dance partner. she turns bashful as a taxi approaches her for a dance, and in a clever twist, the lady taxi plops a coin inside her meter, switching the label from vacant to occupied. anthropomorphic cars aren’t as mind-bogglingly inventive as they used to be (just look at the pixar films), but for 1937, this entire cartoon is extremely creative. friz has worked with anthropomorphic cars before--he animated the beginning part with piggy of this wonderful scene from you don’t know what you’re doin’!, which still holds up as one of my favorite merrie melodies. the animation here (as in 1937 here) is wonderfully jaunty and fluid, and to boot we’re met with an innuendo as the lady taxi’s meter continues to rise. following in the steps of tex avery and his love of jackpot gags since day 1, the meter turns into a slot machine, winning the jackpot, and a plethora of gold coins shower out as the male taxi happily collects the coins into his hat, much to the bashfulness of his partner.

away from the busy city is a quaint little backyard, where we stumble upon the star of the picture--a tiny little car reading a book on how to be a taxi cab. the underscore here is “my little buckaroo”, which would find a home time and time again in many a warner bros cartoon (such as the 1938 friz freleng cartoon with the same name, as well as the daffy duckaroo, my little duckaroo...) the little car sighs longingly as he reads. the backgrounds are beautifully painted, conveying the homely nature of the scene rather nicely. very atmospheric, very nostalgic. the car’s mother emerges from the garage, honking and searching for her son junior. 

mama car finds junior engrossed in his book, to which junior panics and hides the book behind his back. the power of domineering motherhood prevails as junior reluctantly forks the book over. “i wanna be a taxi,” he protests indignantly after seeing his mother’s shocked expression at the brazen literature her son was reading. “a taxi? of all things! i want you to grow up and be a nice touring car like your father.” berneice hansell’s squeaky vocals are endearing as always as junior refuses. “i don’t wanna be a touring car. i wanna be a taxi!”

not having any more of it, mama car drags junior by the “ear” (one of the metal covers of his tires) and takes him inside their humble garage abode. as mama car prepares junior’s lunch for school (gasoline of course), you’ll notice a wonderfully clever visual gag--a framed portrait of an old car from the early 1900s hangs on the garage wall, affectionately labeled “grandpa”. my initial thought was that this was a dig on the 1933 disney hit the three little pigs, which couldn’t be too far off. this wouldn’t be the last time friz rips on disney--wait til’ his behemoth pigs in a polka 6 years later.

with lunch prepared, mama places the lunchbox in junior’s seat, much to his displeasure. junior takes off, with mama cooing at him to run along to school, stay away from traffic, “and keep clear of those railroad crossings...”

junior reaches the intersection between auto school and the city. his plight of decision is accented by a visual dotted line as he reads both signs, turning his head, trying to make a final decision. the school bell tolls like a funeral bell--with that, junior plays it brave and heads for the city instead. city life already asserts itself as intimidating as junior attempts to cross the bustling city streets. as the stoplight turns red, he readies himself at the line, preparing to take off, but once the light turns green, he’s repeatedly run over (or run above?) a number of cars as the cars zoom forward beneath him, rendering the little car paralyzed. very fun, smooth, hurried animation. once traffic clears, the light red again, junior is now in the company of an older, slower car, who patiently waits for the signal to go. once the light is green, the sound of the bell throws the old car into a boxing frency, shadow-boxing with an invisible enemy. this gag was referenced all too many times in the disastrous porky’s moving day by jack king just a year before.

junior gets jostled around by traffic as he wanders aimlessly into another intersection, eventually throwing himself into a safety zone (one thinks of picador porky), a fitting underscore of “little man, you’ve had a busy day” accompanying junior as he frantically pants, trying to catch his breath, his heart (where the engine is) beating furiously. more jaunty animation as junior, ever the genius, breaks the physical restraints of the cartoon world as he lifts up the painted lines and carries the safety zone with him. caught up in complacency, he tumbles straight into an open storm drain, weaseling his way out on the other side of the street. 

suddenly, relief--a gas station catches his eye. he approaches, the gas station serving as a soda fountain of sorts, manned by a bartender voiced by (who else?) mel blanc, asking “what’ll ya have, son?” the gas comes in a variety of flavors--strawberry, grape, orange, etc. junior signals the orange, which is “powerful stuff, son!” junior has his fill, and instantly the gas takes effect, sending jolts through out his body as the engine explodes in a rhythmic cadence (a classic warner bros gag). after the initial shock, junior is revitalized and ready to go--”gee, i can go fast now! watch!” 

predictable yet endearing, junior takes off in a flash, much to the bewilderment of the bartender. a camera pan reveals junior standing at the bartender’s side, clearly pleased with his work, much to the awe of the bartender. junior’s attempts to show off are endearing and serve as suitable momentum to the inevitable climax as he zooms over to the railroad tracks, “yoo-hoo!”ing the bartender. “shuffle off to buffalo” underscores the sound of an approaching train, hurtling across the railroad tracks as junior observes in awe. if my memory serves me correctly, the particular footage of the train used here is the first of many reuses--this train pops up in a number of cartoons, the one coming to my mind right now being porky’s picnic in 1939. perhaps it was used before this and my memory is just poor, but, at the very least, i can say that it’s the same train.

junior, now cocky, decides to race the train to show off, speeding alongside the tracks on a rural stretch of road. his excitement is cut short by a road hog--literally. a giant pig shaped car, labeled ROAD HOG in threatening bold letters slows junior’s momentum, junior honking angry “barks” at the offending car. junior attempts to pass, but to no avail. instead, the road hog grows even more obnoxious by stretching its tires out to hog the entire stretch of road. thankfully, a bridge comes to junior’s aid as the road hog is sent riding above the support beams, with junior passing below and now in front of the road hog.

road hog taken care of, junior gets gutsy again as his attention focuses once more on the rival train. determined to out-perform, junior attempts to race alongside the train, casting looks of validation occasionally to see just how well he’s holding the lead. the energy of the next handful of scenes is just swell--friz’s knack for musical timing comes in clutch as the railroad crossing bell dings in hurried succession with the beat of the jaunty music. some tashlin-esque camera angles as the train heads straight for the audience, with junior crossing over the tracks just before it, narrowly avoiding an inevitable collision. the charade is repeated again (with the footage flipped), but the energy is just as strong the first time around, especially with the key of the music elevating up a notch to D instead of C, heightening the anticipation and adrenaline. 

even if the energy is rampant, it can’t be maintained for the remainder of the cartoon, just watching junior do his gymnastics. friz knows this, too, which is why we get a view of junior’s gas gauge dropping to empty. predictably, junior stalls out on the train tracks as the train approaches. the train hurtles towards the audience, junior cowers in fear... and fade out to black.

i give friz credit, as i didn’t expect this to happen at ALL. i assumed his mother would swoop in out of the shadows to save the day and give him a stern talking to afterwards, but instead we’re met with a rather bizarre and somber scene. an ambulance tow truck hauls an off-screen junior to the auto garage hospital, and we’re met with a rather moody surgery montage. the suspense is extremely thick--the directing here is very cinematographic, very tashlin-esque, and VERY well executed. we never once see the injured junior. we have a split-screen montage of the surgery, showing oxygen being pumped, utensils passed around... the directing is top notch. very brooding, very smart to withhold junior from the audience, as well as concealing most of the faces of the operators. the minor key rendition of “my little buckaroo” does wonders to maintain the somber mood.

outside, we see mama car pacing aimlessly around, tearfully “oh dear”ing all the way through. the suspense doesn’t stop--the back door creaks open. after a beat, we see little junior, alive and mostly well, covered in bandages, running to his mother. they embrace lovingly, but that doesn’t exclude junior from a good lecture. 

another wonderful turn of events as we hear the all too familiar bellow of a train whistle during mama’s lecture. junior displays how much he’s learned his lesson by darting straight towards the tracks once more, hungry for a race. all the broodiness, all the moodiness, all the tears and heartfelt sorrow are thrown out the window as junior’s need for speed prevails once more. 

what also prevails once more is the train. junior manages to dodge the train at first, mocking the train in the process, but in the midst of his gloating, he’s oblivious to the other train hurtling straight behind him. 

again, junior gets hit. junior is relatively unscathed, albeit dazed as we fade back in from black. iris out as we see that the train is now in shambles, taking a much more severe beating than junior did.

i have to say, i thought i knew where this cartoon was going--i certainly was mistaken! i assumed it would be much more disney-esque, much more cutesy and endearing than it actually turned out to be. with that said, i ended up enjoying it a lot more than i would have as a result. the music score was lovely all the way through, as was the animation and the creativity. as i said, talking cars aren’t as surprising now, but this was pretty damn innovative for its time, and they certainly made the best of their surroundings and setting. the dark turn the short took was wonderful. energy was high all through the cartoon, but especially during the climax, and the broodiness of the surgery scenes serve as a strong juxtaposition to the previous scenes. it’s certainly evident both tex avery and frank tashlin have rubbed off on friz--as they should. friz is a solid director who is WAY too underrated for my tastes. his timing, both musical and comedic, is impeccable, and his cartoons are wonderful to watch. he doesn’t get as much praise because he’s not as “wacky”, but subtleties are just as, if not more so, important than wild animation, and i’d argue that especially for its time, this is pretty wild! tashlin’s camera angles and filmmaking techniques and tex’s need for speed and absurd humor both rub off on friz as we see here, and it pays off extremely nicely. at first i wasn’t too enthused to watch this cartoon, as i figured it’d be your “standard” merrie melody, but after seeing the end i would definitely recommend you to watch it. it’s fun, light-hearted, and it wouldn’t hurt to watch just once. go check it out!

link!

[alj4890]

Cheer Challenge Prompt

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) for day 21 of @jlpplays1-41daysofcheerchallenge​ of anticipation

(Thomas x Amanda) and all the other pairs going even further in the storyline of And Then I Met You

A/N Not quite a Christmas theme but still anticipation worthy. After Thomas and Amanda were able to give Kathleen her Christmas Wish of a new baby coming soon, I wanted to further explore what happens when they decide to find out what they are having. 

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment  @hopefulmoonobject  @krsnlove   @annekebbphotography   @cora-nova @hopelessromantic1352. @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @ab1901​ @pixieferry  @lolablackwrites  @flyawayboo @i-bloody-love-drake-walker. @trappedinfandoms 

Masterlist

Plot Twist

Informal Living Room of The Royal Palace, Cordonia...

"Settle down everyone!" Liam called out. He waited patiently for his friends to cease talking. "Who would like to present their arguments first?"

Amanda nodded to Thomas. "After you."

"This is ridiculous." He muttered. "We do not need to base this decision on a vote!"

She glared at him while placing her hand on her very noticable baby bump. "I am tired of arguing this with you. We have reached an impasse. I am more than willing to bow down to the decision made here. If the majority votes for you, then I will not be angry nor hold it against you."

Thomas ran his hands over his face. He should have remembered how much more stubborn pregnancy hormones made his wife. "Fine." He stood up and went to the center of the room.

"This ought to be good." Olivia whispered.

Thomas cleared his throat.

"Come on, professor!" Addison yelled impatiently. She covered her mouth when he leveled the same disapproving look he used to give her when she was a film student.

Thomas looked around the room. His commanding presence made all still.

"I think we should wait. To not only discover we are pregnant once more on top of finding out that it's twins is an even greater gift. We decided to let Kathleen be a surprise--"

"I gave in." Amanda mumbled.

"Shhh." Liam ordered. "You can speak when it's your turn. Please continue, Thomas."

"As I was saying, Kathleen's birth was by far full of unending anticipation since we were unsure who we would meet. It was a moment I will never forget when the doctor held her up and said it's a girl. I don't want to miss out on that with our next two." Thomas paused for dramatic effect. "I know it is asking a lot, but I hope you will see it is the right way for us to go."

Liam nodded to Amanda. She struggled out of the oversized chair, thanked Ryan for his assistance, and took the spot Thomas had left. She cradled her belly and looked down. Color bloomed on her cheeks at having to speak before everyone.

"As sweet as it was to wait with Kathleen, I believe we should find out. We now have twice as much to plan for. Names, clothes, and I would like to have a nursery ready before bringing them home." Amanda looked up at Thomas. "The chance of us becoming pregnant after this is unlikely. If we do this then we will have had both types of pregnancy experiences: the excitement of the unknown and the thrill of planning everything."

Thomas released a deep breath. "Very well. We will find out."

"Wait! We don't get to vote?" Maxwell exclaimed.

Amanda swiped at the tears that fell down her cheeks. "Really? You won't be upset?"

Thomas got up and pulled her close for a sweet kiss. "How could I be upset with finding out who are children are?" He smiled softly when she hugged him tight. "I will admit now that I nearly caved with Kathleen."

She laughed and kissed him again. "So did I. Multiple times."

"I was ready to have a say on baby Hunt two and baby Hunt three." Addison cried out in frustration.

"Were we used for nothing but marriage counselling?" Drake teased. "And Thomas had my vote for the record."

"Mine too." Riley added.

"You must be joking. Amanda has mine." Olivia stated. "Preparedness guarantees victory. You're going to need it with twins and Kathleen."

"Oooh." Nadia grimaced. "I was all for Thomas until you reminded me of that. My vote is Amanda's."

"Clearly." Holly muttered. "She's the one thinking with her head instead of sentimentality."

Ryan turned around in surprise. "How can you expect a man to not be somewhat sentimental over the birth of his own children?"

Matt nodded. "Though we always find out because we have never been able to wait on anything." He winked at Addison. "We at least try each time and see if we can keep it a surprise."

"Three more for Lord Hunt!" Addison called out. "Liam, are you keeping score?"

"I am," he replied with a smile, "and added mine also to Thomas."

"You're winning." Amanda whispered.

"I know my audience." He whispered back, smiling when she started laughing.

Maxwell looked around the room and sighed. "Sorry Amanda, but Thomas's heartfelt speech won me over."

"Wow." Amanda looked up at Thomas. "Good thing I have you on my side."

"Yes it is." He grabbed her hand before she could poke his side.

"When do you find out?" Riley asked.

“I think what Riley meant to ask was, when do we find out.” Maxwell corrected.

"I have an appointment scheduled in three days." Amanda announced. 

_______________

Upstairs in the playroom of the Royal Palace...

Kathleen sat at one of the tables, coloring a picture she had been working on for her mother.

“Kat! Come on! I need you on my team!" Xavier Beaumont yelled from the top of the pillow fort he had constructed. 

"I'm coming." She finished sprinkling some glitter and studied her creation. Her lips firmed in a frown as she tried to see if she left any of her vision for it out.

"Nuh uh! Kathleen should be on our team!" Prince Emerick yelled back."

I want her to play tea party with us!" Ashley Rodriguez, her little sister Ally, and Mia Beaumont glared at the ones in the pillow forts, trying to steal their friend away on some stupid war.

"Lightsaber battle!" Juliet yelled. "I need another sith, Kat!" Prince Ellis and Marcus Rodriguez stood ready to fight as Jedi.

Kathleen looked up when everyone started arguing. She couldn't tell what had started it nor what they were fighting over, having tuned them out as she worked. She slipped out of her chair then escaped the room.

"And where do you think you're going?"

She turned around and ran over to Thomas. "I was going to look for you and Mommy."

He swung her up in his arms. "You haven't learned where everything is here. I don't want you getting lost."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Where's Mommy?"

"Taking a nap. Mommies with babies in their tummies need a lot of rest." He explained.

“Oh." She mumbled.

 "I have a surprise for you." Thomas told her, smiling at the excitement on her face. "We are going to not only see the babies in Mommy's tummy but also if they are a boy or a girl."

"Really?" She asked. "Then I can say I have a baby brother!"

"And possibly a sister. You might have two little brothers or two little sisters. We won't know until we see them." He set her down and kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t you play some more and I will come get you when it is time for dinner.”

The playroom door swung open.

“Kat! I nearly died from the attack Emerick and Jackson threw at me. Michael is holding down the fort.  I came to find you and take you to safety. Come on! Hurry!” Xavier grabbed her hand and pulled her giggling back into the playroom.

Thomas watched it all unfold with a slight frown.

Matt soon joined him in the hallway. “Everyone still alive in there?”

“So it seems. Your son, Michael, might have a future in the military. He is brave enough to hold down a pillow fort while his fellow soldiers go off on special missions.”

Matt opened the door some more to peep inside. He saw his two daughters sitting calmly among the chaos with Mia Beaumont, gossiping and sipping apple juice from tiny tea cups. His younger son Marcus was teamed up with his best friend, Prince Ellis, as they fought against a formidable Juliet Nevarkis-Walker. 

Prince Emerick and Jackson Nevarkis-Walker had somehow talked Phoebe Summers into being on their side for the great pillow fort war. Kathleen waved to her from the other fort and laughed when Phoebe rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

Matt chuckled as he shut the door. “Ryan went to check on the smaller ones in the nursery. He won’t believe it when I tell him that his little no nonsense girl is helping a future duke and a crown prince fight a pillow battle.”

“And somehow mine got involved on the opposing side.” Thomas shook his head. “Xavier Beaumont is part pied piper when it comes to Kathleen. She always gives in to his plans.”

Matt coughed on his laughter. “From the childhood stories I’ve heard from both Amanda and Maxwell, it looks like history is repeating itself.”

Thomas frowned even more. If history was to repeat itself, then his little girl would one day be heartbroken over Xavier only loving her as a friend. 

“Come on.” Matt motioned with his head. “Drake has suggested a Hollywood vs Cordonian billiards game.” He had a smug grin on his face. “They have no idea that you play so well.”

___________________

The Night Before the Ultrasound...

“I’ve already begun a list of possible names.” Amanda explained.

“I always loved that part.” Riley sighed softly. “Thinking of the perfect name to match the new little one.”

“Making certain it is a name that they can carry into adulthood without embarrassment.” Drake added.

“Thankfully, we are pros at that.” Matt grinned at Addison.

“I’ve begun a list too.” Thomas remarked. 

The children listened somewhat from their table as the adults laughed and talked.

“What’s the list for?” Ellis whispered to Kathleen.

“Mommy is having babies and she is trying to find names for them.” She whispered back.

“Oh.” He went back to his dinner.

“What are you gonna do?” Juliet asked.

“About what?” Kathleen looked at her friend in confusion.

“If it’s girls?” Her face scrunched up in disgust. “You should be the only girl.”

“Hey!” Ashley shook her fork at Juliet. “Having a baby sister is the best! It’s those brothers that can be the worst.”

Michael and Marcus stared at her for such a statement.

“Amen!” Little Mia exclaimed.

“Hey!” Xavier appeared hurt. 

“Well, regardless,” Emerick said, trying to speak like his father though unsure what it meant. “Having babies changes everything.”

“Yes, they do.” Phoebe added. “They cry and don’t do anything fun yet. And mommy and daddy think Harper is so great. She can’t even talk!”

Ashley shook her head while wrapping her arm around her little sister Ally. “They are great!”

“You got her when you were too little to know better.” Phoebe countered. “It’s different for me and Kathleen. We’re more growed up and know stuff. Having a new baby is fun at first but they take too long to be able to play.”

Kathleen felt her initial excitement about her new siblings slowly die with Phoebe’s words. 

“Yeah,” Jackson muttered. “Then parents keep telling you to wait while they take care of the baby first.” He grunted when Juliet kicked him under the table. “I remember some of it when you came!”

She glared at him once more before turning back to her friend. “You got to make sure you don’t lose your spot.”

Kathleen’s brow furrowed. “My spot?”

“With your parents.” Juliet explained while Phoebe nodded in agreement. 

“How will I know if I lost it?” She asked, worry worming its way into her little heart.

“You’ll know.” Phoebe predicted ominously.

_______________

“Are you excited?” Amanda whispered to Kathleen as the ultrasound technician applied the KY jelly to her protruding belly. “You are about to see your siblings?”

Thomas chuckled when Kathleen nodded nervously. “I know I am.” He lifted Kathleen in his arms so she could see better. He slipped his hand in Amanda’s once their babies appeared on the screen.

Kathleen watched silently as measurements and such were taken.

“Ready to find out what these two are?” the tech asked.

“Yes!” Amanda and Thomas exclaimed at the same time then laughed at doing so.

“Twin number one is being modest, lets check on Twin number two. Oh. Do you see that?” The tech pointed at the screen.

“Is that his--” Thomas smiled when Twin two was announced as a boy.

“A boy!” Amanda covered her mouth as tears built up. She squeezed Thomas’s hand. “I get to have a miniature you running about.”

He bent down and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips.

Kathleen wiggled out of his arms and waited on finding out what twin one was. A baby brother wouldn’t make her lose her spot. Only a--

“There we go! Twin number one has decided to let us in on her secret. It’s a girl!” The tech began to pick through images to print off.

“A girl!” Thomas kissed Amanda again. “I see that I am still destined to be outnumbered by beautiful women.”

She laughed and looked for Kathleen. “Sweetheart! You will have a baby brother and a baby sister!”

“Oh!” Kathleen stared at the screen that had just destroyed her life. 

Once Amanda’s belly was cleaned and they left after an appointment, the couple looked down at their little girl. 

“My only hope is that they will be as sweet and perfect as you.” Amanda said to her.

“We know that you are going to be the best big sister. They will need you to always look out for them.” Thomas added.

Kathleen smiled at them as she thought of what she should do now. There really was only one option. She should run away before she lost their love. They would have a new daughter to take her place. A son would also take special time she had with them away. Why did I ask Santa for this?

_____________

While the parents of the children celebrated the future Hunt’s, Kathleen confided to Xavier her plan.

“But,” He began. “Kat, they will still make time with you. Phoebe’s parents still do her.”

“Yeah, but mine are having twins. More time away from me.” She mumbled.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. “Where will you go?”

She shrugged her little shoulders. “I don’t know.” 

Michael came over when he noticed Kathleen’s sadness. ‘What’s wrong?”

“Uh...” Xavier began.

“I’m going to run away.” Kathleen admitted.

Michael stared at her in shock. “But...you can’t! I want you to stay!” His little cheeks turned red at admitting to such love. Ashley would tease him nonstop if she knew he liked Kathleen like his dad liked his mom.

Kathleen dropped her head as tears fell silently. “I don’t want to leave you or mommy or daddy. I have to go. It was my wish that messed it all up.”

Before either could try and convince her not to, she hugged them each. “Bye.” Then she ran out of the playroom.

Michael ran out after her and looked down the hallway. He didn’t know which way she went.

“We have to tell!” He whispered to Xavier.

“Who though?” Xavier asked.

Emerick who had been spying on them in case they spoke of the next fort battle, joined them. “We’ll tell my dad.”

_______________

Liam snuck out of the room when he noticed the three boys trying to get his attention. He followed them to his study and sat down as each explained what and why this had happened.

“You did right in telling this. Kathleen could get lost or hurt. I’m very proud of the three of you making certain this does not happen.” Liam called Bastien in and formulated a search around the palace. “I don’t want to distress Amanda and Thomas with this until we are certain that Kathleen is truly missing. I will go outside and see if she is anywhere nearby. She might have decided to go to one of the places the children like to play.”

“She loves the wishing well.” Michael spoke up shyly. “She says that it really is real and hopes that one day it will give her a wish come true.”

Liam smiled softly. “Then that is where I will go first.”

______________

The Wising Well in the Palace Maze...

Kathleen climbed the slippery rocks and propped her elbows on the wishing well’s rim. “Uncle Liam told me stories about you.” She looked down at the stars twinkling in the water. “I know you have helped princes and princesses. I’m not one and I won’t wish for it. I just want to change my Christmas wish.”

She shivered as the temperature began to drop. She hoped the treehouse in the maze would be warmer when she moved in. “I still want my baby brother and sister, but can I wish that my parents love me just as much as they do now when the babies are here?”

She closed her eyes and whispered her wish a few more times. “How will I know if it was answered?”

“I know it has.” Liam spoke from behind her. His smile was tender when she turned around and ran into his arms. 

“How do you know Uncle Liam?” She asked with tears falling.

He gently wiped them as he propped her on his lap. “I’m the king. Every king is granted the ability to know if wishes to this wishing well will come true. Your parents are going to not only love you just as much as they do now, but I believe that their love is going to grow more over time as they watch you and the twins grow up.”

She sniffed and looked up into his kind blue eyes. “You do?”

He nodded. “You must love the twins very much already to not want them to disappear.”

“I do.” She admitted. “I’ve been wanting a brother or sister for a long time.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He promised.

Kathleen hugged him. “Do you think Mommy and Daddy will be mad that I was running away?”

Liam gently patted her back. “I haven't told them. And I won’t unless you decide to try this again. We all have moments where we sometimes want to run away from things that scare us or changes that are to come. What matters most is what we do about it. You wished for your family to be together and still love you. That was an unselfish wish. It is one that makes me very proud of you. I will reward such by letting this be our secret.”

She wiped her tears and thanked him. He smiled while standing up and wrapping his jacket around her. “Will you allow me to escort you back to the palace, Lady Kathleen?”

“Yes, please.” She murmured. She took hold of his hand and walked out of the maze.

_________________

“Liam? Have you seen--Kathleen!” Amanda hurried over to her. “Sweetheart, you can’t leave the playroom until you know your way around the palace. What would I do if I lost you?”

Kathleen’s face scrunched as tears started falling again. She threw her arms around Amanda while burying her face in her side. 

“What’s wrong?” Amanda sat down in a nearby chair and looked up in question to Liam. “What happened?”

“I believe she is in need of reassurance.” Liam motioned to Amanda’s belly. 

Understanding came swiftly. Thomas came around the corner and paused in concern. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Liam whispered about Kathleen’s fears, leaving out her plan on running away. He noticed the three boys watching in concern from behind a suit of armor. He motioned for them to follow as he left the family to some privacy.

“Kathleen,” Amanda said softly. “Do you know why your father and I wanted to have another baby?”

She shook her head.

Thomas knelt down beside them both.

“Because of all the joy you have brought us.” Amanda replied. “We knew that if we got someone as wonderful as you then having another would be a blessing. We didn’t want you to feel alone in this world. Now you will have two that will look up to you and be a source of comfort whenever you need them. I know you will do the same for them with your loving heart.”

Kathleen sniffed and wiped her tears. “But you will have another girl. Will I still be your sweetheart?” She looked at Thomas. “Your darling or will she become those?”

“You will always be that.” Thomas promised. “Your new sister and brother will be just as loved as you are, but they can never take our love for you away. Our love for them will never be stolen either.”

Amanda kissed Kathleen’s forehead. “Just like we are trying to choose names for these two, we will end up choosing special names for them. You will be our only sweetheart and darling. They will be called something just as unique to them as yours are.”

Kathleen hugged them both, feeling reassured by their holding her close. She could feel the babies moving in Amanda’s tummy and smiled. “What are we going to call them?”

Thomas and Amanda shared a look. “We are still debating that. Do you have any suggestions?”

Kathleen tilted her head to the side as she looked down at her mother’s pregnant belly. “Hmm. I like Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth Hunt.” Amanda smiled. “That is a very pretty name.”

Thomas nodded. “I think that would suit the one I saw this morning.”

Kathleen’s brow furrowed. “Ian for my brother.”

“Ian Hunt.” Thomas muttered. “I think that’s the name.”

“Elizabeth and Ian Hunt.” Amanda smiled with delight. “It’s perfect.”