#Shaun water you doing

[brittlebutch]

realizing that it sounds kind of mean for me to be referring to this fic as the “cringe loser” fic if you don’t have the extensive lexicon i’ve created in my head for the lengthy opinion essay i haven’t written about how most people don’t actually want “good” autist-rep, they want “cool” rep even at the expense of ‘accuracy’. just believe me i say “cringe loser” with the highest degree of absolute affection

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

how do i get my character out of the corner i wrote myself in without a dues ex machina😭

How to Not Write Yourself Into a Corner (and How to Write Yourself Out of a Corner if You’re Already In One)

One of a writer’s WORST fears is writing themself into a corner.

It’s easy to write your characters into death-defying situations…but it’s not as easy to write the actual “defying death” part.

Some writers, in their desperation to get their characters out of a bind, employ the use of a Deus Ex Machina, as mentioned by anon:

Deus Ex Machina: (Translates to "god from the machine") A plot device where a seemingly unsolvable situation is fixed by an out-of-the-blue occurrence. The term “deus ex machina” is a reference to Greek plays, when actors playing a god would literally be lowered into the scene via a machine to magically solve any situation.

Unfortunately, this plot device is often ridiculed by readers, cited as a hack-job solution for a writer out of ideas.

How do we avoid this situation, then? Here are some tips and tricks on how to not write yourself into a corner, and how to write yourself out of a corner if you’re already in one!

Note that these tips may not work for everyone, so make sure to use your own intuition as a writer— you know your story best.

1. NIP IT IN THE BUD— OUTLINES ARE KEY!

I’m sorry to all of you pantsers out there, but the key to prevent writing yourself into a corner is to already have an idea of how each scene is going to turn out; don't make a problem without making a solution! If you keep on top of your outline, you should have no worries about writing your characters into a situation they can't get out of it.

It may be easiest to jot down ideas about a couple of scenarios and then select the one that works best, especially when it comes to dire climax scenes that have a lot of moving parts. 

Check out my posts below for more in-depth advice about outlining!

How to Outline

Plotting for Pansters and Pantsing for Plotters

This advice, although essential, does require a ton of foresight and time to plan…and if you’ve sought out this post, it may mean that it’s too late for preventative measures. The subsequent tips in this post are going to be for people who are already in the thick of it and need a way to save all of their writing progress. 

2. FORESHADOWING IS YOUR FRIEND (AKA “CHEKHOV’S GUN YOUR WAY OUT OF THAT SHIT”)

Foreshadowing: A narrative device wherein a writer gives an advance hint of what is to come later in the story. It helps maintain believability while subverting expectations and making plot twists.

Chekhov’s Gun: A narrative device wherein a seemingly insignificant element or object in the story becomes useful later on. Sometimes used synonymously with foreshadowing, but usually refers to a specific object.

Examples of Foreshadowing/Chekhov’s guns in media:

The 1981 Quarter (Or Extra Life Quarter) in Ready Player One

“Don’t Cross the Streams” in Ghostbusters (1984)

Winchester Rifle Hanging over the Bar in Shaun of the Dead (2004)

The Rita Hayworth Poster in The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

The Water Bottle in Bullet Train (2022)

In my opinion, a Chekhov’s Gun is the more refined twin of the deus ex machina; although it may seem like it comes out of nowhere, observant readers or those who go back into the story will realize that this event was set up from the beginning.

Foreshadowing is the key to turning a deus ex machina into a Chekhov’s Gun. It’s spreading breadcrumbs to maintain believability even when unbelievable things happen.

My advice: plant a line here and there referring to the object/element that will get you out of the corner.

These lines can be about a healing potion that a character carries around to save them when they’re at the brink of death, the fact that the city they’re fighting in often suffers from sinkholes, or that a character has a seemingly useless skill. 

However, haphazardly inserting foreshadowing into your story may come across as heavy-handed; make sure it aligns with the narrative beats. Particularly big Chekhov’s Guns, especially ones that “save the day," may require multiple foreshadowing elements.

It can take a lot of work to incorporate the foreshadowing smoothly, so make sure it actually saves you time in comparison to rewriting the whole scenario/plot point.

3. TAKE A BREAK

Sometimes, the solution to your problem may not come to mind because you’re too immersed into the writing process and not thinking of the bigger picture. Or maybe it might just be good old-fashioned writer’s block. Take a step back, reassess, and return with the scene properly re-evaluated. Maybe start a new book or TV show to get some inspiration, or check out one of my posts below!

How to Overcome Writer’s Block

How to Get Inspired to Write and Regain Creativity

4. ASK FOR HELP

Sometimes, it might be best to have another set of eyes on your story! A situation that may seem unsolvable to you may have an obvious solution to a writing buddy.

5. KNOW THAT SOMETIMES RE-WRITING IS NECESSARY

I know this sounds horrible. It’s something that I wouldn’t wish upon any writer.

Sometimes, however, no amount of foreshadowing can get your characters out of the debacle they’ve put themselves in. Either that, or the work that it would take to insert the foreshadowing would be more than it’d take to rewrite the scene or the plot point.

My suggestion would be to search for the last place that you didn't feel lost, and then cut out everything after that.

(NEVER DELETE MAJOR CHUNKS OF YOUR WRITING! ALWAYS CUT IT AND SAVE IT IN A SCRAP DOC—IT COULD COME IN HANDY LATER!)

Then, take the time to outline the scenario and figure out the solution to your problem beforehand. It will suck, but trust me, it'll be worth it in the end.

HOPE THIS HELPED, AND HAPPY WRITING!

[thewritingrowlet]

The Twins and Their Queens pt. 1, ft. NMIXX Jiwoo

tags: blowjob, creampie

length: 11k+

author's note: this marks the start of another (mini) series, where we follow the lives of Shane and Shaun, Harvey's little twin brothers. For now, I think the series will have 3-4 parts just like The Outing Trip, but time will tell.

-

Jiwoo wakes up feeling excited today, and she has a very good reason for it: she has secretly made a promise to cook for you to celebrate the 2nd anniversary early, and today, precisely 7 days before the actual anniversary, is the day to do so.

She contains her excitement as she slowly and carefully gets off the bed. To be sure that you won’t wake up and spoil the surprise, she puts a spell on you—she even wiggles her index finger around like a wand for good measure. “Stay asleep, Shane—stay freaking asleep. You’re very tired after working all day yesterday, and you want to sleep until the day changes again.” She hears a hum escape through the small gap of your lips, which makes her confident that the spell is working. “Good boy,” she pats you through the air.

She tippy-toes her way out of the bedroom and gently closes the door behind her; she’s doing everything she can to make as little noise as possible. She looks towards the TV to find the small clock sitting on the shelf: 5:04 a.m. “Should be plenty of time,” she says to herself.

Jiwoo ties her hair in a bun as she prepares to start cooking. She grabs some items from the fridge and sets them on the counter next to her phone. “Right, so,” she opens her memo app and looks at the ingredients list, “noodles, boneless chicken thighs, potato, and onion—that should be everything.”

She drizzles a bit of cooking oil into a non-stick pan that she has prepared and— “oh, wait, the chicken.” She was supposed to cut the chicken into cubes first, so she turns off the burner and places the chicken on a cutting board. Jiwoo skillfully cuts the chicken and then turns her attention back to the pan. “Now we can really start,” she says.

Jiwoo throws in the small pieces of chicken into the hot pan and stirs it around, making sure that it’s cooked through. After that, she tosses in the potato and onion (that she has chopped into cubes secretly yesterday before you got home) and stirs again for a few minutes. Once the potato becomes a bit translucent, she drizzles some more oil and adds black bean paste into the mix. “2 cups of water, okay.” Jiwoo grabs a measuring cup from the cupboard and fills it with water, repeating it again after that to meet the needed measurements. “Hey, Nudle, start a 10-minute timer for me,” she says to her phone, and it responds to her in its catchy voice.

She decides that she’ll use the time to wash the dirty knife and cutting board and wipe the dining table clean. After that’s done, she lies on the sofa to catch her breath. “I hope he doesn’t wake up now,” she thinks to herself while eyeing the bedroom door. For some odd reason, suspense enters Jiwoo’s mind; it’s as if she was watching a horror movie. “Oh, God, please don’t wake up. Han Jaehyun, please don’t wake up—not when I’m this close.” The ring from her phone steals her attention, and she immediately turns it off, concerned that maybe you’ll hear it and wake up. “Okay, okay,” she takes a few deep breaths to calm down, “everything is fine—everything is just fine.”

Jiwoo makes her way to the kitchen again to cook the noodles, which is the second last step to this sneaky adventure. She brings a pot full of water to a boil and throws in the noodles. They’re not dried noodles, so cooking them will only take around a minute, maybe a minute and a half. After that’s done, she turns off the burner and— “FUCK!” She accidentally touches the edge of the hot pot when reaching for the strainer, thus forcing her to let out a scream of profanity because of the combination of shock and pain.

“Are you okay, babe?” Your sudden presence shocks Jiwoo to the core; she didn’t expect you to sneakily come out of the bedroom like this, hence the little jump. That said, she currently has a bigger problem on her hands—literally. “O-oppa,” she says weakly, in pain from the burn, “h-help me, please.” Jiwoo briefly explains that her fingers are burning, so you drag her over to the sink and run some water on her hands. “What were you up to, baby?” You ask in a gentle voice as quiet sobs escape your girlfriend’s lips. “I-I was making some jjajangmyeon for you, oppa.”

You don’t know what to feel right now: you’re touched that she’s making a surprise for you, but at the same time, you hate seeing her get hurt like this, even if it was an accident. “Oh my God, baby,” you feel like your heart is being wrung, “are you feeling better, though? Is this working?” She nods and pulls her hands away from the sink, not forgetting to thank you for the help. You quickly glance at her face and see that there are tears on her plump cheeks. You turn her face towards you and gently wipe her tears with your thumbs, putting on a kind smile in the process.

“You can continue, babe; I’ll watch.” You place a hand on the small of her back and keep an eye on her as she strains the noodles and divides them into the two bowls. Jiwoo then pours a nice amount of the black sauce mix into the bowl. “Let’s eat, oppa,” she says. You stop her from grabbing her bowl and instead pull her into a lifted hug.

“Thank you for all of this, baby; I appreciate everything, seriously,” you say right into her ear. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” she replies in a sad tone, “fuck, you’re so fucking stupid, Kim Jiwoo.” “Oh, c’mon, don’t say such thing,” you deny her attempt at self-deprecation, “you just had a little accident, babe—it doesn’t take anything away from your efforts, trust me.” Jiwoo lets out a hum, and you take it as a sign that she accepts your consolidation. “Now let’s eat, baby. This looks so damn good, and I can’t wait to shove it into my mouth,” you say, hyping her up.

You lower her gently onto one of the two chairs at the table and spray kisses all over her head. “Oppa, please, the food will get cold,” she tries to make you stop. You do stop, but before you grab the bowls from the counter, you turn her head towards you and come in for a kiss. It feels like she’s not too interested in kissing, but when you try to pull away, Jiwoo chases you. “Thank you, oppa,” she says after breaking the little tangle. “The pleasure is mine, baby.”

You take the two bowls from the counter and place them on the table. “Thank you for the meal, baby,” you say. Hearing you thank her again makes Jiwoo feel better about all of this, and it looks like she’s not too upset about “failing” the surprise. “I swapped out the pork belly for chicken, oppa,” she informs you as her chopsticks dance in her bowl, mixing the sauce mix with the noodles.

“Oh!” The first mouthful takes your soul high to the sky, making your body sink limply into the chair. “Oh, my—oh my God, Jiwoo-yah,” your eyelids shut tight as you savor the taste, “this is incredible—the chicken is soooo juicy, too.” Unfortunately, you can only chew for so long before you must swallow. Fortunately, you still have plenty of this heavenly food in your bowl. “Thank you for the meal, baby,” you repeat, “thank you so, so, so, so much.” Your sweetness makes Jiwoo feel better once again, and her lips, without her realizing, are forming a wide smile. “Th-thank you, oppa,” she fans her red cheeks to cope with the heat.

You keep your attention on your bowl, shoving more and more food into your mouth at an uncontrollable pace. “Howy shid,” you swallow the food in your mouth before continuing, “I don’t have the adjectives, but I know my brothers would fight to have a bite.” Jiwoo can’t take it anymore. She rushes to you and squeezes your cheek in playful aggression. “Youuuuuu,” she kneads your face like they were bread dough, “you are sooooo—arghhhhh.” You let out unintelligible sounds as your face contorts from her touch. “B-babe, stop,” you hold her wrists to halt her, “you haven’t even taken a bite, have you?”

With a sigh, she returns to her seat and puts some noodles in her mouth. She starts chewing in silence while her eyes roam around. “Hmm,” she rubs her chin as she thinks about the taste, “could use a bit more salt, but yeah, this is pretty good.” “Pretty good? What do you mean pretty good? This is very good,” you argue. Your girlfriend lets out a long sigh in defeat. “Fine,” she says, “thank you for the kind words, oppa—I love you.”

You leave your seat and pull her onto her feet. “You know what I want, don’t you?” You expect her to come in for a hug, but no, she’s getting down on her knees. “Wait, wait, not that one,” you pull her onto her feet again, “I meant this.” You wrap your arms around her and make sure your hands meet perfectly on the small of her back. You whisper all the praises you can come up with, and most importantly: “I love you, precious. I love you so, so much and thank you for cooking for us this morning.” Jiwoo responds by giving you a peck, letting you know that the praises are well received.

“Come on, oppa, let’s shower,” she pulls away from the embrace, “I’ll take care of this, so you can go first.” You thank her one more time—you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve thanked her so far—and make your way towards the bathroom while Jiwoo stays behind to wash the dishes.

In the silence, Jiwoo finds herself grinning widely. “That was a success in my book,” she giggles, “one point for Kim Jiwoo—whooo, let’s go!”

-

“Oppa, do you think I can work at Harvey-oppa’s company? Will he take me in?”

“First of all, why do you want to work for him? Is there something wrong with your current job?”

“Nothing is wrong, but I feel like working for him would make me feel more motivated—y’know, he’s family and all that.”

Your heart flutters a little when you hear Jiwoo refer to your brother as family; she understands the importance of family and sees your brothers as her own, and you’d like to think that this is a good sign for the relationship going forward.

You clear your throat to focus back on her. “Okay, so do you want me to talk to him? We can call him now,” you offer her some help. Jiwoo says that she’ll try updating her CV and send an application first, and if that doesn’t work, then she’ll consider resorting to nepotism—not the prettiest or classiest approach to say the least, but it does have a high chance of success. “Okay, you do that,” you say, “maybe I’ll join you one day.”

“Why aren’t you working for Harvey-oppa? Is that not what mama and papa want for you and Shaun-oppa?”

“Yes, but Yunho-hyung is paying me very handsomely, and I don’t feel like leaving his company at the moment.”

“Ckckckckck,” Jiwoo shakes her head, “imagine not working for your brother because someone else pays you more—couldn’t be me.”

“I need the money to buy a ring and a house for you, baby,” you say in your head while putting on a smile as a front. “Well, it’s time to go to work—let’s get changed, babe.” You and Jiwoo exchange pecks for good luck and walk towards the bedroom together to get changed.

-

Jiwoo boots up her laptop as soon as she arrives at her cubicle. “CV, CV—where is my CV,” she browses through a bunch of work-related folders to find it, and she finds this file named “CV KIM JIWOO” that was last modified around a year ago. Before she opens this file, she looks around to make sure no one is watching—it’d be awkward if someone found out Jiwoo is trying to leave this company for another.

Jiwoo scrolls up and down through her CV, trying to figure out which part is out-of-date, and she finds that only the experience and skills need to be updated. She adds one more bullet point to the list of experience and explains briefly the things she’s accomplished in her current company, such as projects she’s taken a part of and awards she’s received. Just those two things alone take up over half a page since Jiwoo is very good at her stuff and well-liked by her co-workers, which means that she’s very often included on projects—it also means that she makes a lot in bonuses since each project usually comes with one. Jiwoo’s cursor hovers over a particular project that she’s very proud of, considering its complexity and how well she did her part. “If this doesn’t land me a job at Harvey-oppa’s company, then HR is cooked in the head and he needs to find replacements,” she says to herself.

Moving on, she adds some new information to the skills section of her CV. She recently got 855 on a TOEIC test and is very proud about it, so she replaces her old score of 820 with the new one. “I’m sure someone of foreign descent like him will appreciate good English proficiency,” she thinks to herself. One thing to note, however, is that her application will first arrive in the hands of HR and not one of the big bosses like Han Harvey, and she hopes that everything written on her CV is enough to impress the lower-level managers—if she can help it, she wants to get the job legitimately, not through nepotism.

Before she wraps this up and starts working, she reads her CV one more time from the top. “Name is correct, date of birth is also correct, address is—hmm, should I use Shane-oppa’s address?”

While Jiwoo thinks about it, someone taps her shoulder from behind. “What the—oh my God, unnie!” Jiwoo just got caught off-guard and red-handed by her co-worker, Soodam, who must’ve snuck up behind her when she was deep in her thoughts. “Hey there,” Soodam greets Jiwoo with a smile, “looking to jump ship, cookie?” Jiwoo minimizes the window on her laptop and turns to Soodam with red cheeks. “P-please don’t tell anyone about this, unnie; I-I just want to explore my opportunities,” she says. “Do you think I can go with you, Jiwoo-yah?” Soodam’s question startles Jiwoo. “Y-you want to leave too, unnie?”

Soodam explains that she thinks she’s not getting paid enough for the amount of work that she does and would like to “explore her opportunities,” just like Jiwoo. “I’ll talk to my boy—” Jiwoo covers her mouth to stop herself, but Soodam catches the slip. “Boyfriend, huh? What can your boyfriend do for us?” Before the conversation goes even further, Jiwoo pulls Soodam closer towards her. “My boyfriend is the brother of this other company’s boss,” she whispers to her, “I told him I’d try doing things legitimately first before… y’know.” “I’m with you,” Soodam says, “good to know that you have insider ties, though.”

After parting ways with Soodam, Jiwoo pulls out her phone to text you. “Oppa, who do I send my CV to?” She sees that you’re not online currently, so she locks her phone and gets ready to start working for possibly her last day at this company.

-

You see Jiwoo’s text on your notification bar, but you don’t want to answer right away; you first need a second opinion on this matter, and there’s no one more qualified for that other than your dear sister-in-law. “Noona, I need you; please pick up,” you say while waiting for her to pick up the call.

“Hello, this is Kim Yooyeon.”

“Oh, yes,” you sigh in relief, “noona, this is Shane.”

“Yes, I know,” you hear a chuckle from her over the phone, “can I help you? Are you looking for your brother?”

“No, no, I’m not looking for him—I’m looking for you,” you say, “can we talk? Do you have time?”

“Yeah, sure—what do you need?”

“This morning Jiwoo asked me if she could work for Hyunjin-hyung because she said it’d make her feel more motivated because he’s family, and now I’m wondering if I should tell him about Jiwoo’s intentions.”

Your noona stays silent for a moment, trying to come up with a solution.

“Jiwoo said she wanted to do it legitimately, but I want to help her—you know, with insider ties” you pile on.

“Well, in that case,” she says, “I’d say just let her do it her way first, and if that doesn’t work, then we’ll consider other methods.”

“Do you know when Hyunjin-hyung is coming home, by the way?”

“No, I don’t,” she lets out a deep sigh, “I miss him more than anyone, I can assure you that.”

“Noona,” you get ready to move on to the next subject, “I want to get married.”

“Huh? What?” The suddenness most likely surprises Yooyeon. “Wait, what? Why so sudden? Have you even talked to Jiwoo about this?”

“No, I haven’t—I just envy the way the both of you are so in love with each other,” you say, “do you think I have a chance at marriage, noona?”

“What the h—well, yes, I do; I think you’re a nice guy and Jiwoo is a nice girl,” she says, “you know, you’re being such a terrible little brother right now—how can you ask a woman whose husband hasn’t been home for a week about marriage?”

You’re not sure where she’s going with this. “Sorry, what?”

”Ugh, forget it,” she says, and based on her tone, you can picture her rolling her eyes, “anyway, like I said, let Jiwoo do it her way and then we’ll see what things look like.”

You thank her for the help, and after exchanging goodbyes, you hang up the call, and now that you have an answer to this equation, you turn your attention to Jiwoo. Via text, you send Han Group’s HR’s email address to her. You end the text with, “You said you wanted to do this legitimately, so I wish you good luck, baby.” “Thank you, daddy,” she replies, “I’ll send it right now—I love you!” Your eyes blink rapidly in a combination of disbelief and startlement; she just called you daddy as if you were in the bedroom. “Time and place, Jiwoo-yah—my God.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.” You reply to her and delete her text just to be safe.

-

You always pick up Jiwoo at her office after work, and today is no different. You stop on the side of the road right in front of the glass front doors of her building and wait for her to come out. After a few minutes, you see her walking out with another woman. “Wait, that’s—”

You jump out of the car (after looking at the side mirror first) and meet the two women. “Oppa, this is my co-worker, Soodam-unnie. Unnie, this is my boyfriend,” Jiwoo introduces the two of you. Soodam’s eyes widen in shock, “wait, are you—” “No, I’m Shane—you’re thinking about my twin brother,” you cut her off, and you swear that you can see her sighing in relief.

For context, Shaun, who is always into older women, tried courting this Soodam lady a few years ago, only to find out that she was engaged to another man. That was almost disastrous, by the way; your older brother even had to intervene.

Jiwoo looks at the two of you in confusion but quickly moves on to another subject. “Soodam-unnie also sent an application to Harvey-oppa’s company,” Jiwoo briefly gives some context. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Inside, however, you wonder if it is indeed so, because Shaun works at Han Group, and considering that he is in a relationship with someone else, this could be problematic. “This is not your problem, Shane,” you think to yourself.

You shake hands with Soodam with a smile on your face—a smile that’s hiding awkwardness behind it. “Nice to meet you, miss,” you say, and she says the same to you. You shoot a quick look at Jiwoo, who immediately catches the signal, and the two of you get ready to part ways with Soodam. Jiwoo hugs Soodam and then walks with you to the car, leaving Soodam alone on the side of the road.

In the private space of your car, Jiwoo airs her confusion. “Do you know her, oppa? Why did you mention your twin?” You shortly explain to her the history of Shaun and Soodam and why Soodam was visibly startled to see you. “So Soodam-unnie reacted like that because she must’ve mistaken you for Shaun-oppa—did I get that right?” “You did, baby,” you say, “and now I’m concerned that they’ll see each other again if she moves to Han Group.” “My God.” Jiwoo leans back in her seat as she tries to process this shocking reveal. “Don’t tell Seeun-noona about any of this, babe; we don’t want to get Shaun in trouble,” you say to her.

After catching up with your family’s little history, Jiwoo mentions that she wants to eat out for dinner. You ask if she has preferences, and she says that she wants to get tteokbokki. “You and your tteokbokki, babe—you’d think you would’ve got sick of it by now,” you comment, earning a giggle and a playful slap from her.

After a short drive, you find yourself stopping in front of an alley where Jiwoo’s favorite tteokbokki restaurant is located. You get out of the car with her and make your way towards the restaurant. She’s been to this place a lot; the middle-aged lady at the cashier (who you assume is the owner) instantly recognizes her and guesses that she wants the usual.

There aren’t that many empty seats at the moment; it seems like a lot of people have the same idea and want to have tteokbokki after work. You scan around the interior and find a table in the far corner of the restaurant, whose occupants are about to leave. They seem to have left the table clean, and you fast-walk towards it to claim it before anyone else—you’re the designated seat finder in this relationship, so leaving Jiwoo behind to sit first is A-okay.

Jiwoo joins you shortly after and sits across from you. Usually, she’d rather sit next to you, but the space doesn’t really allow that; to your left is the wall and to your near right is another table. She rests her head on the table, looking very exhausted after working today. “Tired, baby?” You pet her head gently, running your hands through her hair the way she likes it. “Mm-hmm,” she mumbles, “I had a lot of work today.” You praise her for working so hard all the time, and even though you can’t see it, she’s probably grinning in pride right now.

You tap Jiwoo’s arm to get her to straighten her posture as a server is on his way to you with your orders. He places a large bowl of tteokbokki and another large bowl of popcorn chicken somewhat crassly—he also has a sour face. “Yeah,” Jiwoo says, “he isn’t known for being the nicest guy around.” You’re starting to feel disgruntled; if you were alone, you wouldn’t be so mad to see poor service, but considering that you’re with a loved one, you feel angrier—no one gets to be rude and ruin the vibes when you’re with those you love. “I don’t mean to be arrogant, but we can easily buy out this place and replace that guy,” you snark. “That is arrogant, oppa,” Jiwoo rubs the back of your hand gently to calm you down. “Please, it’s okay—he’s probably just tired, oppa, like we are.” You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and apologize for your attitude.

Your girlfriend picks up a piece of tteokbokki and immediately chases it with a large piece of chicken. As you watch her eat, you can feel the heat in your heart gradually dissipate, and a smile is forming on your face. She picks up a piece of tteokbokki and immediately chases it with a large piece of chicken. You decide to put down your chopsticks and enjoy the sight of your girlfriend eating in front of you, not caring if she finishes the whole meal by herself.

It seems like she’s very hungry too; it took her until halfway through the meal to realize that you haven’t eaten at all. “Oh my God, oppa,” she exclaims, “why aren’t you eating?” “Ah,” you’re snapped out of your trance, “I was too busy watching you eat, baby.” You’re torn between two options, though: do you want to get some food into your belly after working all day, or do you want to keep watching your girlfriend eat oh-so-cutely?

“Say aaah.” Jiwoo decides for you by guiding a piece of chicken towards your mouth, leaving you with no choice but to open your mouth. There’s a grin on your face as you chew, and you can see her grinning too; you realize that only Jiwoo deserves your attention right now—it doesn’t matter if anyone else tries to ruin the mood; she’ll easily draw a smile on your face. “Thank you, baby,” you say to her, “I love you so much.” “I love you too,” she replies, “now eat, please.”

-

You get back to your car with Jiwoo after finishing the meal. “Would you like to get anything else before we go home, baby?” “No, let’s just go home, please.” Based on her tone, you can tell that she only has little energy left in her tank. “Home it is.” You turn the steering wheel to the left and place a foot on the accelerate pedal to join the moving lane.

The traffic isn’t too bad; it’s just that this specific traffic light is infamous for its long queues during rush hour. In the corner of your eyes, you see that your girlfriend is sleeping in her seat with her mouth slightly open. Unfortunately, it seems like her current position isn’t too comfortable, but there’s nothing you can do at the moment. “We’ll sleep properly at home, alright, babe?”

After getting through the traffic light, you pick up the speed, aiming to get home as soon as possible so that Jiwoo can rest properly. You take advantage of slower drivers and change lanes whenever possible, earning some honks from other drivers occasionally. “Screw you—pay attention to the road next time,” you comment.

You go through the last turn before you reach your apartment building and quickly go up to your designated parking spot. Once your car is neatly parked, you turn off your car and turn your attention to your girlfriend, who is still asleep. You then rush to your unit with Jiwoo’s limp body in your arms.

“We’re here, baby.” You lower her gently onto the bed, and she’s still asleep. You prepare a T-shirt and shorts for her to change into for later. “I’ll shower first, babe.” As you’re leaving, however, you hear a grunt of disapproval from your girlfriend. “Oppa,” she calls to you with raspy voice, “don’t leave me.” You join her in bed and pull her into a cuddle. “Wait, don’t you want to change first, babe? I prepared some clothes for you.” You can tell that she doesn’t want to move too much but her work clothes are anything but comfortable. “Help me change, oppa,” she says.

“May I?” You ask for consent, which Jiwoo gives in the form of a nod. You start unbuttoning her shirt from the top. With Jiwoo’s cooperation, you free her arms from the restraining sleeves of her shirt, and if it weren’t for her bra, she’d be entirely topless right now. You move to take off her trousers, but first: “may I, baby?” Jiwoo nods to your question, expressing her consent one more time, so with that, you unzip her trousers and pull them down her legs until they’re properly off.

Jiwoo lifts her butt off the bed when you try putting on a pair of shorts for her. “Last one, baby.” You put on a T-shirt for her, and she cooperates once again by putting her arms through the sleeves herself. “Good girl,” you peck her on the forehead, “my turn now.”

You change into a T-shirt and shorts before joining your girlfriend in bed. “Hngh,” Jiwoo grunts again while reaching her arms out, asking to be held. “Of course, baby; I won’t forget about you.” You pull her into your embrace and close your eyes, savoring the lingering scent of her perfume from this morning. “Let’s rest a bit, okay? We can worry about other stuff later,” you say.

-

Something is telling you to open your eyes, so you do—what time is it, even? In your half-asleep state, you look around the dark bedroom with your half-open eyes. You can see and feel that Jiwoo is still in your arms, which is a good start. You gently run your hand on her back, just the way she likes it.

If there’s anything that could be considered “wrong” with you, it’s your inability to keep your hands off your girlfriend, but at least she’s okay with it most of the time; physical contact is one of Jiwoo’s favorite things in the world.

“Oppa,” she calls to you suddenly, “I want to be with you forever.” You really want to say that you’re working on it, but you don’t want to spoil your plans, so for now, you give her a basic answer: “I want to be with you forever as well, baby; there’s nothing more that I want for us than that.”

“Do you think we have Harvey-oppa’s approval?” Ah, she’s concerned about your older brother, the honorary head of the Han family. “You do,” you assure her, “he and Yooyeon-noona know what kind of person we are. Not only that, but they also know that we’re in love with each other.” Jiwoo lets out a hum, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“Their anniversary is around the corner, right?” Jiwoo moves on to the next subject. “Huh, you’re right,” you just realized now. “We should call them, oppa; you know, say congratulations and all that,” she suggests. “We’ll call them this morning before leaving for work, okay? Let’s try going to sleep again for now.” You peck her head a few times and close your eyes again.

-

The morning rolls around, and you wake up after what felt like a few minutes of sleep (it was probably a few hours in actuality). “Baby, sweetie, cookie—let’s wake up, hey?” You poke Jiwoo a few times to wake her up, and she slowly opens her eyes. “I’m tired, oppa,” she says. You look at your phone to see if she has time for extra rest. “You have 30 minutes, baby—I’ll take a shower first while you sleep, okay?”

While standing under running water, you remember Jiwoo telling you that your brother’s anniversary is coming soon. “I should call them after this,” you think. You quickly finish showering and check up on your girlfriend again.

“Baby, I’m sorry but your time is up.” You hate breaking it to her, but you have no other choice. With a groan, Jiwoo gets off the bed and wraps her arms around your body. “Take care of me, oppa.” You’re not sure what kind of taking care of she needs, but you think that it’s probably best to have her shower first. You lift her by her thighs and carry her towards the bathroom.

She lightly bites you in the neck when she notices that you’re taking her to the bathroom. “Oh my God, I hate you sometimes—why are you doing this to me, oppa?” “Sorry, baby, but this is necessary.” You gently lower her onto her feet and make to leave the bathroom area. “Wait!” Jiwoo halts your steps by hugging you from behind. “Please—please don’t leave me.”

You’re not sure why she’s behaving like this. “Baby, are you okay? You don’t act like this usually.” “I-I don’t know,” she says, “I just don’t want to be left alone.” “Okay, so do you want to shower with me, or do you want me to wait here?” Jiwoo takes a sniff and lets out a grunt after. “You already showered, so I’ll just shower alone—wait here, please.”

Jiwoo lets go of the hug and walk backwards to the bathroom, keeping her eyes on you the whole time. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” You sit on the floor in front of the bathroom and simply wait for her to shower. “What’s going on with Jiwoo, man?” You ask yourself, wondering why she’s acting like this out of nowhere.

-

You feel someone poking you on the knee. “Oppa, what are you doing?” You open your eyes and see Jiwoo, fresh out of the shower with wet hair, kneeling in front of you. “Did you fall asleep, oppa?” “I must’ve,” you rub your eyes to get yourself together, “you’re done showering, baby?” Jiwoo holds your hands and tugs, signaling to you to stand up, so you do just that. She then comes in for a hug, placing her head on your chest. “I’m sorry for being difficult, oppa.” You assure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. “You’re always so kind, oppa—thank you,” she says.

You lie down on the sofa while Jiwoo dries her hair, and you’re reminded again that your brother and his wife, Yooyeon, are celebrating their anniversary today. You come up with a congratulatory message and send it to Yooyeon. “I think I’m looking to propose by the end of the month, noona,” you add.

The app says that she’s typing, and the timing couldn’t be any more perfect: Jiwoo is asking if you can video call your sister-in-law. “Sure, let’s do it,” you say. Once she’s ready, you start the call.

“Hey, guys,” your brother greets you from the other side of the screen, “good morning!”

You take the speaking baton first. “Good morning, hyung and noona—congratulations on the 6th anniversary, guys!”

Harvey thanks you for the congratulations, and in return, he asks how you and Jiwoo are doing. “We’ve been very good, oppa,” Jiwoo takes the baton from you, “I know we’re not married yet, but our 2nd anniversary is around the corner.”

Truthfully, you forgot that it is indeed around the corner; you shoot a glance at the sleeping TV, which screen saver says the date and time, and see that your anniversary is 6 days away.

“Ask Shane to take you on a dinner, Jiwoo-yah; I’m sure he has the money for it,” your brother says, snapping you out of your little trance, and the gears in your head start turning, trying to quickly come up with a plan to celebrate your anniversary.

Through the video call, you see that your sister-in-law is aiming her camera at the food on their table. “Ahhhh, unnieeee!” Jiwoo slaps your thighs repeatedly, reacting hysterically to the Morningside logo on the bowl shown on the screen. She promptly turns her attention to you and whispers something right in your ear. “Oppa, can we go to Morningside this weekend?” You respond to her suggestion with a nod. “We’ll join you next time, unnie—we have other things to do today,” Jiwoo says.

You take turns with your girlfriend to start conversations with your brother and his wife, and after a few minutes, you notice that she’s almost ready to end the call. “Harvey-oppa, Yooyeon-unnie,” Jiwoo says, her tone sweet and sincere, “congratulations on the anniversary, seriously. I hope me and oppa get to live happily together like the two of you.” “Thank you for the kind words, cookie,” Harvey says, “we’re rooting for the both of you—see you soon!”

You exchange goodbye waves with the people on the other side of the screen then end the call right after. “Visit us this Saturday for Jack-in-the-box,” says a text message from Yooyeon, making your heart rate climb. “What does that mean, oppa?” Jiwoo points at your screen, right where the floating notification is. “I-I don’t know,” you answer nervously.

You’re nervous because truthfully, you know what it means: you, Shaun, and Harvey came up with that term to secretly refer to “getting a ring and proposing” when Harvey was courting Yooyeon a few years ago. So the fact that he’s said it now after all this time must mean that he’s in full support of your relationship and encourages you to commit further, which is both exciting and nerve-wracking.

“You believe in us, don’t you, hyung?” You say in your head while trying to maintain a straight face. “You’re acting weird,” Jiwoo comments with a chuckle, “first it was me, and now it’s you—what’s wrong with us today, oppa?” You let out an awkward chuckle, still trying your best to not show your nervousness. “Well, I guess we’ll find out,” you deflect, “c’mon, let’s go to work.”

-

Before you know it, it’s now Saturday. Your brother invited you to his house a few days ago for Jack-in-the-box, a secret term that hasn’t been mentioned in years—one problem, though: how do you go to his house alone, because Jiwoo most likely would want to tag along if she’s free.

You sit on the sofa, rubbing your chin to come up with something to dissuade your girlfriend from coming along, and that’s when she walks out of the bedroom with a question. “Oppa, Soodam-unnie asked me to hang out at a café with her—can I go?” “Of course, baby,” you put on a smile for her, “do you want me to take you there?” She takes you up on your offer and gets back into the bedroom to change, and you let out a deep sigh of relief; you don’t need to fool her into not tagging along because she already has something else to do.

After dropping off Jiwoo at the café, you start driving towards your brother’s house, which is quite close from where you are. There’s little-to-no traffic today, since it’s the weekend and still early—it’s barely 10 a.m.

You pull into his driveway next to his car and get off yours. “Hi,” your brother greets you from the front door, “come in, we need to talk first.” You follow him inside but see no sign of his wife. “Where’s noona?” He says that she just got out of the bathroom and will join you soon.

Your brother takes a seat on the sofa while you take the cushion chair to his left. “Oh, you’re here,” Yooyeon greets you, “this must be for the Jack-in-the-box thing.” She takes the empty spot next to her husband. “Can one of you explain what that means?” Harvey explains briefly what it means: “we’re also going to help him buy a ring,” he adds.

“Do you think you’re ready for this?” Your brother’s question makes you nervous. “I do,” you answer, “I, erm, I think we’re in love, a-and, you know—” The way you’re stuttering makes them laugh. “Well, I hope that you’ll be less nervous as the day goes.” Harvey stands up from his seat, and when the (honorary) head of the family stands up, you follow. “Let’s go get breakfast first and then we’ll visit the jewelers, hm?”

You depart in your brother’s car to ensure maximum secrecy—Jiwoo wouldn’t recognize this car if you happen to pass in front of the café she’s at. You take a seat in the middle row behind your brother because obviously the front passenger seat isn’t vacant. “We haven’t done this in so long, haven’t we, hyung?” Your question makes Harvey smile. “We haven’t, true—we’ll do this again with everyone once Shaun and Seeun return from New York.”

You’re promptly reminded of your meeting with Soodam. “Hyung, I met Soodam-noona a few days ago.” His unique, sharp eyes look at you through the rear-view mirror of the car. “Yeah? What did she say?” “She thought I was Shaun,” you answer. You hear a deep sigh coming from him. “That’s fine, I guess—it could’ve been worse.” Yooyeon is curious: she doesn’t know who Soodam is, and in turn, doesn’t know what Shaun has to do with her. When she asks, Harvey explains in longer form their history, and at the end, you see her placing a palm on her face.

-

You, Harvey, and Yooyeon sit together at a 4-person table at Morningside, which happens to be somewhat empty currently. Here are the things you and your company ordered: two Singaporean-style toasts, two congee with char siu beef, and three hot lychee tea.

“Shane,” Harvey whispers to you while looking over your shoulders. “Jiwoo is here.” You turn around in shock, and would you look at that: she is indeed here—Soodam is also here. “Oh, shit, the surprise is spoiled,” you think, and you feel like you understand how Jiwoo felt when her surprise was spoiled a short while ago. “She doesn’t see us, though,” you comment.

While it is true that Jiwoo doesn’t see you, Soodam does and tells Jiwoo about your presence. She jogs towards your table and gives you a peck on the lips. “Oh my God, what a crowd—hello, my name is Kim Jiwoo. Pleased to meet you,” she says, earning a collective laughter from your group. “Crazy coincidence, isn’t it, baby?” “It is—we could’ve gone together, oppa.” Jiwoo then asks again if she can hang out with Soodam, and obviously, you let her go. You’re not holding her back from hanging out with her friends (aside from her male co-workers who have tried shooting their shots but that’s a story for another time).

“God,” you let out a sigh of relief, “I thought it was blown.” Your brother lets out a laugh, fully understanding of your feelings. “Keeping a secret from your beloved lady is never easy—ask me how I know” he adds, and Yooyeon joins him in laughing.

The smell of butter steals your attention, and when you turn your head around, you see a server walking towards your table. “That must be your toasts, noona,” you say, and indeed, it is her toasts. You help the server distribute food to your brother and his wife. “The tea will be out after this—please kindly wait,” the server says, already way kinder than that guy working at the tteokbokki restaurant. “Sure, no problem—thank you,” you reply with a smile.

Yooyeon is the first to both take a bite and react to her food, letting out satisfied hums while chewing her first mouthful. “I really can’t have enough of this,” she comments. Harvey reacts to that by giving her a peck on the cheek—a cute sight, really; you love seeing your brother interacting with his wife and how in love they are with each other.

-

After a short ride, the three of you arrive at this seemingly none-of-the-ordinary jewelers.

You ask Harvey if he’s been here before. “Hm? Oh, yeah,” he says, “I bought a necklace for Yooyeon-ie from this place a few months ago.” “You did, hon?” Yooyeon scratches her head as she tries to remember. In playful aggresiveness, your brother pinches his wife cheeks for failing to remember. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She exclaims frantically, and your brother stops right away. “Come on, let’s find something for our cookie,” he says, leading you and Yooyeon inside.

“Ah, welcome, Mr. Han,” a staff member in a neat three-piece suit greets your brother. He then takes turns to shake your and Yooyeon’s hands. “My little brother here is looking for a ring,” Harvey says. “Do you know the measurements, sir?” The staff turns his attention to you. Your eyes land on your sister-in-law as you think about Jiwoo’s finger size. “Should be similar to my noona here,” you say. Yooyeon takes off her ring and passes it to the staff who then takes a measurement.

“Size 6, hey?” He shuffles some shelves around and place one that’s packed with brilliant rings on the top. “Here are the options we have currently, sir—we can also make a custom ring but that will take longer and cost more,” he says. Harvey can tell that you’re nervous about the price, so he whispers in your ear that he’ll take care of it. “Your job today, Shane, is to choose one that you really like,” he says. “Thank you for this, seriously,” you whisper back to him, getting a soft pat on the back from him.

You first point out to the staff member that you’d rather choose from this abundance of choices than wait for a custom-made ring. “Can I look at that one, please? Row 3 column G,” you say. You flip it around in your hand, inspecting small diamond main piece. “Jiwoo doesn’t like flashy stuff, so I think this is definitely one of the choices for now,” you comment. You place the ring on the glass counter and start looking for other options. “Row 5 column C, please,” you say. Upon closer inspection, however, it doesn’t look as good as the first one.

Initially, you thought that you should find 3 rings to choose from, but aside from the first ring your eyes landed on, nothing else catches your fancy. “Guys, what do you think?” You turn to Harvey and Yooyeon for opinions. Yooyeon defers; she thinks that you should choose what you like. Her husband, on the other hand, thinks that your choice is a good one. “I would buy that if I were proposing—I’m not, just so we’re clear,” he adds, laughing at the end. “I’ll take this, please.” You hand the ring back to the guy, earning a praise for your “good eye” from him.

-

Today is the day of your 2nd anniversary with Jiwoo. Not only that, today is also the day she’s doing an interview for the job at Han Group she has applied for.

Jiwoo says that she has permission from her manager to take today off so that she can go to the in-person interview. She also asks you to drop her off at the Han Group building on your way to work. “Sure, baby—let’s leave after this, okay?”

For the interview, Jiwoo opts for a white shirt and a black skirt—a very typical interview attire worn by fresh graduates looking for a job. She walks into the building and sees a reception desk that has someone attending it. “Excuse me, miss,” she says quietly, “my name is Kim Jiwoo. I’m here for an interview.” After looking at the screen in front of her, the staff tells Jiwoo to go up to the 4th floor, where an interviewer will join her soon.

Jiwoo sees an open room with a big conference table on the 4th floor. “This is it, probably,” she thinks. It is when she’s right at the door that she sees the short list of today’s interviewees: Kim Jiwoo and Lee Soodam. She also sees that each person will be given around an hour for the interview.

“Hello. You must be Kim Jiwoo.” A female around her age enters the room, making Jiwoo jump a little thanks to the shock. Her eyes widen when she sees the person behind this lady. “Hi, cookie. How are you today?” Harvey’s sudden presence stuns Jiwoo: no one mentioned that he’d be in the room where it happens—what if she lets him down? What if he thinks that Jiwoo isn’t needed at Han Group?

“Mi-mister Han,” she stutters, “p-pleasure to meet you, s-sir.” Harvey laughs. “You thought I wouldn’t know, Miss Kim? I have eyes and ears everywhere, you know,” he says. Jiwoo remains quiet as Harvey moves to take a seat at the other end of the table. “Please, there’s nothing to be nervous about. We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?” “Y-yes, sir,” she replies nervously. Harvey shows her a kind smile. “Well, let’s start now, Miss Jo,” he says to the interviewer.

Miss Jo, paying little attention to personal details, throws some work-related questions at Jiwoo, and she answers each one as best she can, glancing occasionally at Harvey. “Wow, their smiles are very similar,” she thinks. Miss Jo then turns to him, passing the speaking baton over. “So, Miss Kim,” he starts, “can you tell me what you’re looking for at this company?” Jiwoo’s heart races as she tries to come up with an answer. “With respect, sir, I think working at Han Group w-would make me be more motivated,” she says the first answer that comes to mind. “Really? How so?” In her head, she wonders if she should say the same thing she did to you: because Harvey is family. “Ah, whatever—here goes nothing.” She takes a deep breath and answers: “b-because I’d be working for fa-f-family, s-sir.” Her stutter was worse than earlier, making her want to slap herself for it.

Harvey grins. “Family, Miss Kim?” He asks, and she’s starting to regret saying such answer. He takes a deep breath before speaking again. “First, I like that you refer to me as family—I’m sure your significant other would be delighted to hear it if he was here. Second, I think that someone can only be really motivated about work if they enjoy and find satisfaction in it. Sure, working for family sounds like a good time, but at the same time, there’s the burden of relationship in that; there’s a chance that you’ll find it difficult to make objective decisions or critics because, well, they’re family.”

Jiwoo can’t help but stay silent during Harvey’s speech, feeling the pressure of the big boss’ commanding presence. “Any opinions on that, Miss Kim?” “N-none, sir. I understand what you said, and I think it made sense,” Jiwoo replies. Harvey whispers something to Miss Jo, and after a short back-and-forth, she leaves her seat and walks out of the room.

Harvey summons Jiwoo to sit next to him, and she complies immediately. “Jiwoo-yah,” he says, his tone softer than earlier, “why are you here, seriously? Answer honestly, please." She wipes the stray tear her glassy eyes released. “I-I meant it, oppa; I want to work for you because you are family,” she emphasizes. He puts his hand on Jiwoo’s, rubbing the back of it gently, the exact same way you usually do. “If you’re so sure, then I’m not stopping you—welcome to Han Group, Jiwoo-yah.” Jiwoo, without asking for permission first, jumps to hug Harvey. “Thank you so much, oppa. I won’t let you down, I swear,” she says tearily. “I know, cookie,” he replies, “go home for now, your work here can start some time else.”

-

As soon as you enter your apartment, a fragrant smell enters your nostrils. “Jiwoo-yah, where are you, baby?” You hear her reply from the kitchen area, so you drop everything at the door and make your way towards her.

“Welcome home!” Jiwoo hugs you warmly as a welcome. “Thank you, baby—what is this smell, by the way?” Over her head, you see that there’s a pot sitting on one of the burners. In it, there’s rice cake swimming in a bubbling red sauce—oh, there’s popcorn chicken on the counter, too. “You hated the service at that tteokbokki place, so I made it for you,” she says. You barrage her head with kisses, showing your appreciation for her efforts. “You always spoil me with your cooking, baby,” you say at the end.

Your girlfriend asks you to sit at the table while she gives final touches to her cooking. She then proceeds to put some in two bowls and places them on the table. “Thank you for the meal, baby!” You grab the chopsticks she has provided and immediately put a piece of rice cake in your mouth. “Oh, that’s so good.” You then chase it with a piece of chicken. “Wow, that’s also really good.” Your eyes land on Jiwoo, and you see that she has her happy face on; her plump cheeks are squished by the wide grin on her face.

“There’s no way it’s that good,” she thinks you’re exaggerating. “Why are you putting yourself down? Just take a bite and see for yourself, why don’t you,” you say, and based on your tone alone, Jiwoo can tell that you’re starting to get annoyed by her attitude. “It’s not that, oppa; it’s just that when you cook, your food doesn’t taste as good as when you buy it,” she reasons, her soft tone different to yours.

She takes a mouthful of food and thinks about the taste as she chews. “It is good,” she shyly admits, “I see why you like it so much.” “See? Don’t put yourself down so much next time, okay, baby?” Jiwoo nods and promises that she’ll keep it in mind and never do it again.

“Oppa,” she moves on to another subject, “I got the job at Han Group.” “Yeah? How did the interview go?” Jiwoo first mentions that Harvey was present during the interview and how surprising it was for her to see him. “I had a feeling that you wouldn’t have gotten away with being sneaky,” you say, adding a chuckle at the end. “You didn’t say anything to him, though, right?” No, you didn’t say anything to anyone about Jiwoo’s sneaky job search—it’s just that your brother does have eyes and ears everywhere.

-

After dinner, you find yourself chilling on the sofa with Jiwoo. She’s resting her head on your thighs while her hands are busy with her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media. You, on the other hand, can’t be bothered with it; you have a bigger thing to think about: how do you propose to Jiwoo? “Should I take her to the park? Do I just do it here?” Your brain gets busy trying to figure it out. “Fuck, man, what do I do?”

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, and apparently, it’s loud enough to reach Jiwoo’s ears. “Are you okay, oppa? Do you need anything?” Nervousness is peaking in your head right now and you’re starting to sweat. “Can we talk, baby, please?” Your girlfriend lifts her head off your lap and looks at you nervously. “What do you want to talk about, oppa? Am I in trouble?” You close your eyes and take another deep breath. “First, I’d like to apologize for being so boring like this, but I’m just stumped and don’t know what to do,” you begin, making Jiwoo both nervous and confused.

You get off the sofa and get down on one knee. “Miss Kim Jiwoo,” you fish the small velvet box out of your back pocket, “will you marry me?” She stays silent. Her palm is covering her mouth. Her eyes are as wide as they can be. This isn’t quite the reaction you were hoping for, and as you wonder if you’ve made a bad move, your eyes wander off towards her knees.

“Yes, I will,” is her answer. When your eyes meet with her again, you see that tears are coming out of her eyes in abundance. “I will, oppa—I will marry you,” she repeats. Seeing her cry makes you emotional, and without command, your eyes start releasing tears. “I’m sorry, I should’ve come up with something grander for my proposal,” you say, feeling regretful. She joins you on the floor and hugs you tightly. She assures you that it’s okay and you have nothing to worry about. “It doesn’t take away from your efforts, oppa,” she uses your words against you. Deep inside, however, you promise that you’ll propose again with a grander prelude—Harvey proposed to Yooyeon at The Sapphire, maybe you can replicate that.

Jiwoo lets go of the hug and looks at the ring that’s still sitting in its tiny pedestal in the box. “I-I think you’re supposed to put it on my finger, oppa.” You chuckle. “Sorry, baby. I’m new to all of this,” you crack a little joke, earning a giggle from your girlfriend. You pull the ring out of the box and slide it onto her ring finger on her right hand. “I’m yours forever now, oppa,” she says while turning her hand around to inspect the ring. “This is a beautiful ring, too.” You place your forehead on hers, still unable to calm yourself down and stop the tears. “I love you, Jiwoo-yah. I love you with every cell in my body.” Jiwoo says she loves you more, referring to you as her fiancé.

“Oh, speaking of fiancé,” she says, pulling away from your embrace, “now that we’re really official, I want to go to university again, oppa—you know, get my master’s degree and all that.” You wipe your tears off your face and gather yourself. “O-okay, go—hah—go on.” “Can you, erm, can you pay for that, please?” Obviously, you’re not stopping your fiancé from getting higher education, so without thinking twice, you say yes. “I’m sure it’ll be beneficial for all of us, baby, so go ahead. Let me worry about the tuition,” you add.

In joy, Jiwoo jumps to hug you, and only now are you remembering an important fact. “Happy anniversary, baby.” Your fiancé lets out a chuckle. “I thought you forgot about it, oppa.” “I’m sorry, baby. I’m a freaking mess today,” you say. “Let me help fix that mess.” Jiwoo plants her lips on yours while her hands are fixed on your shoulders, and at this point, you swear that every mess in your heart and mind has been washed away. “Thank you, baby. I needed that so bad,” you thank her for the help. “Can we go to the bedroom, oppa?” “We sure can, baby.” You carry her in your arms and walk towards the bedroom.

“We’re here, baby,” you say as you climb onto the bed, “so, how do you want to cuddle?” Your fiancé frees herself from your arms, shaking her head as she does. “If we’re getting really married, oppa, you need to get better at catching signals,” she says. You look at her wordlessly while she takes her T-shirt off and throws it over her head. “Oh, she wanted to have sex—was I supposed to know that?”

Your attention is shifted towards her when you feel her fingers on the first button of your shirt, stripping you out of your work clothes. “You just proposed to me and agreed to pay for my master’s, and you thought I wanted to just cuddle? Ckckckck, you’re terrible at this,” Jiwoo expresses her disappointment. You want to defend yourself, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Sorry,” is all you can come up with. “No need, it’s not too late to make it right.”

Jiwoo plants her lips on yours again with different intentions this time. “Take me,” she whispers to you, “take me just like you usually do.” “How bad do you want it?” You’ve now gotten yourself together and are in the correct head space for this. She starts humping your thigh, letting you know how wet she is down there. “C-can’t you tell, oppa?” “I think I can,” you giggle, “let’s start, shall we?”

Yes, we shall. You roll until your fiancé is lying on her back, and her beauty instantly catches your attention. “My God, you’re so beautiful, love. Who am I to be so lucky to be with you?” Your words satisfy her, as shown by her precious smile on her face and her soft hands on yours. “Who am I to be so lucky to be engaged to you, oppa?” You ask if you can show her how much you love her. “Show me, oppa, and I’ll do the same,” she says.

You put your lips on her neck, nibbling and sucking until it’s marked with your love. “Oh, yes, please keep going,” Jiwoo eggs you on. “You’re mine, baby, and I’m yours—forever,” you whisper to her, giving her goosebumps. “I’m yours, oppa, and you’re mine,” she replies. “Please take me already—I can’t wait any longer.” You chuckle. “One second, baby; let me finish marking you first.”

You’ve sucked and nibbled for a few more minutes now, and when you pull away to inspect your work, you see a decently sized dark circle on the side of her neck. “Now everyone knows you’re mine.” You straighten your back, and that’s when Jiwoo asks you to “put it in.” Obviously, you know what it means, but it doesn’t hurt to tease her just a tad more. “Put what in, baby?” Your fiancé takes a deep breath, annoyed and impatient. “Your junior,” she says, “put it in me.”

You move towards her legs that are still covered by her mini shorts. When you grab the waistband, Jiwoo places her hands over yours. “Yes, baby?” You ask in case she wants to change her mind.

“Let’s make some promises before we start, oppa.”

“Sure, baby. What is it?”

“Promise me that you’ll pay for my tuition.”

“We’ve talked about it before, but yes, I promise.”

“Promise me that you’ll love me forever and never leave me for anyone else.”

“I promise.”

“Lastly, promise me that you’ll call me love—you know, since we’re getting married.”

“I promise, love.”

“Great,” she smiles, “now we can start.”

With her consent, you pull down her shorts down her legs and past her ankles. Oh, look at that: there’s a big wet spot on her panties—how cute. You free yourself of your work clothes, and while you do that, Jiwoo frees her tits from its constraints. “Respectfully, you look very, very hot, love,” you say, drooling as you do. “And all of me is yours, oppa,” she replies, “my lips, my breasts, my vagina—everything.” “That’s certainly one way to put it,” you think to yourself.

You hold your cock in one hand, and without struggling too much, you ease your way into her warm and wet core. “T-took you long enough,” Jiwoo quips, “oh, yes, that’s good, oppa.” You wrap your arms around her body, and in response, she wraps her limbs around yours, locking you in place to make sure she has maximum physical contact. She proceeds to let out moans right into your ear, showing you how much she’s enjoying this. “I love you, baby—fuck, I love you so much,” you whisper. “W-wrong pet name,” she still has the head space to say such thing.

“I’m about to burst, oppa,” she says, “please—oh, God—please, oppa.” You notice that her embrace is getting loose, so you take advantage of it and straighten your posture, thus allowing you to deliver better thrusts. “Go on, baby,” you urge her, “burst for your fiancé.” Obviously, words aren’t enough; you need to keep up the tempo to be able to send her flying across the finish line.

Jiwoo’s moans become louder as she inches closer towards orgasm—she’s also squirming around. You grit your teeth when you feel her insides squeezing your shaft. “Come on, love; cum for me.” You turn up the pace to the highest you can possibly do while making sure you’re hitting her deepest points. You pull out just in time as she screams from the top of her lungs, her thighs trembling from the hard-hitting orgasm.

Amidst her moans and pants, Jiwoo manages to ask you to hold her, so you do just that, enveloping her with your arms. “That’s good, love,” you praise her, “you’re so good at this.” “Th-thank you,” she replies with heavy breaths. You pamper her with endless sweet words while waiting for her to calm down; among them is, “I love you and will spend the rest of my life with you.” She can’t string together a proper reply just yet, but that’s fine; you’re certain that the message is well received.

Her pants have died down after a few minutes, and when you check on her, you see that she’s fallen asleep. “How cute,” you pinch her cheek lightly, “well, good night, love.” Without letting go, you roll over so that she’s lying square on your body and close your eyes.

-

During your sleep, you’re shown a dream. One where Jiwoo is on her knees while moving her mouth up and down along your length. You put a hand on the back of her head, assisting her in making sure that her hair doesn’t get in the way. “That’s good, love—that’s very good,” a praise freely escapes your lips, just like usual. Your praise excites Jiwoo, making her bob her head faster. Unfortunately for you, you’re starting to lose your grip on the scene, seeing it slowly fade away to be replaced with a different one.

At least that’s what it seemed like was about to happen. Instead, your brain wakes you up. “Wait, I know this feeling,” you say in your head. Your eyes roam downwards as you try to get a grip on the situation around you. “Love? What are you doing?” “What do you mean what am I doing? What does it look like, oppa?” Well, it looks like she’s stroking your cock, kissing your tip occasionally. “I thought you wouldn’t wake up,” she says.

You tell her that you saw her sucking you off in your dream. “I mean, I was sucking you off in your sleep,” she reveals. “So that was a mix of dream and reality, wasn’t it, love?” Jiwoo laughs. “Even in your dream, you can tell that I’m touching you.”

Jiwoo asks you to sit, so you sit and lean against the headrest. She then crawls between your spread legs and takes you deep in her mouth. Just like you did in your dream, you place a hand on the back of her head, petting her gently as you do. “That’s so damn good, love,” a praise freely escapes your lips, just like usual, and as per usual, it excites Jiwoo. You can feel her moving along your shaft faster, pushing through the gag reflex. “Fuck, you’re going to make me bust,” you say the first thing that comes to mind.

You’re ready to send your load straight into her stomach; your cock is throbbing and cum is pooling on your tip, and—ah, fuck, she removes you from her mouth. “No, no, no,” she wiggles her finger in front of you, “you don’t get to cum in my mouth anymore; I’m your fiancé, not your girlfriend.” Your racing heart doesn’t allow you to come up with a reply, but that’s okay with Jiwoo.

She turns her back against you and move backwards until her entrance is hovering right over your tip. “From this point onwards, you can only cum in my pussy—is that understood, my dear fiancé?” “Yes, love, I understand.” Happy with your answer, she lowers herself until you’re fully inside her. “Oh, fuck,” she lets out a gasp, “fuck, fuck, fuck!” She starts fucking herself on your cock, her hands and knees serving as stabilizers. You lean back and admire the way her hourglass figure looks from behind.

“I-I thought you—oh my God—I thought you were close, oppa?” “I am,” you admit, “I’m about to bust any second now.” Hearing such an answer invigorates Jiwoo, giving her the push she needs to keep going until you cum.

With a profanity, you send your load deep inside her, and Jiwoo plants her butt on your crotch so that nothing leaks out. The warmth of your ejaculation makes her let out a very long moan. “Do you want to be a dad?” “No, love, not yet,” you reply between your heavy pants. “Then you’ll need to buy me some pills—we’ve run out of them.” “We’ll get some later before we leave for work, love.”

That’s one question answered, and it’s time to address the other one: how can you prevent her from making a mess on the bed? “Just carry me reversed like this to the bathroom and pull out there,” she suggests. You gather the strength in your legs and stand up. “Hehehe,” you let out a suspicious laugh, “come to think of it, we’ve never had sex while standing up.” “Let’s not—oh, fuck—let’s not get ideas now, oppa; I don’t have the energy for more.”

You arrive at the bedroom with no accident, which means you can now “safely” pull out of her hot core. “Fuck, that’s a lot,” you comment. “That’s just how much you love me,” she giggles, “so what do we do now?” You don’t know what time it is (because there’s no clock in the bathroom, obviously), but you guess that it’s probably best to quickly clean up and go back to sleep soon.

-

You’re back in bed with your fiancé after quickly cleaning up. Jiwoo puts her right hand in the air and inspects the ring (despite the darkness of the room). “When did you buy this, oppa?” You reveal to her that Harvey bought it for you when you went out with him and Yooyeon. Jiwoo bursts out laughing. “I bet you were sweating bullets when you saw me walking in with Soodam-unnie—you thought the surprise was ruined.” “You have no idea, love,” you chuckle, “well, at least it all worked out in the end.”

“I love you, oppa,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere. “I will be the best person I can be for you—for us.”

“Certainly, love. I will be the best person I can be for you as well, because you deserve the best of me.”

“Sounds like we have a good future,” she says, “well, let’s go back to sleep now—good night. I love you.”

“I love you more—way more than simple words can express.”

[coolnameloading]

Second place

Summary: Your relationship with Shauna is reaching a boiling point after months of feeling neglected. Will your anniversary dinner fix everything or is it time to move on?

You were Shauna Shipman’s girlfriend—well, you were supposed to be, but lately, you have felt more like her side piece. 

When you first started dating she made it very clear that if Jackie needed her for anything she would be by her side no questions asked. And at first, you were fine with that.

You thought it was cute that your girlfriend was such a loyal friend so you told her it wasn’t a problem.

Oh, what a love-struck idiot you were. 

At first, your relationship was great. You were like a couple pulled straight out of a 90’s movie. You’d wear her jersey to her games, your friends would roll their eyes at how sappy the two of you were, and old couples would see you walking down the street and give each other a knowing look remembering when they were your age.

Everything was absolutely perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You didn’t truly understand the position you put yourself in until about 10 months into your relationship. 

Suddenly Jackie was having problems with her boyfriend Jeff, which meant that your weekly date nights became the stuff of history, and the only time you got to see your girlfriend was briefly at school before she was whisked away to soccer practice, or class, or Jackie.

And even when you did get to see her all she’d talk about was how hard Jeff was being on Jackie. 

“He should be glad Jackie even gave him a chance, she could do so much better.”

She sighed leaning against your car.

“Yep”

You mumbled back only half listening to her while grabbing something from your trunk.

“I mean she’s pretty, popular, and the captain of the women’s soccer team.”

“Mhmm”

Suddenly your door slams shut, you look up and see she’s giving you an annoyed look.

“Are you even listening?”

You sigh and nod, “Sorry Shaun but all we’ve talked about for the last two months is Jackie’s love life.”

Shauna rolls her eyes but reaches for your hand, “Sorry baby but I get so upset with how Jeff treats Jackie.”

“I get that but you’ve been so busy with her and soccer I only get to see you for like fifteen minutes in the morning and all you talk about is Jackie.”

You mumble looking down at your intertwined hands trying not to fidget.

“I just want to spend some more time with you.”

You whisper anxiously.

Shauna doesn’t say anything for a minute and you freak out, you open your mouth to make up some excuse but she cuts you off with a kiss.

“Look our one year is coming up on Saturday, what if we go to that burger place you’ve been wanting to try then we catch a movie?”

She whispers kissing the back of your hand while looking at you with her big puppy dog eyes that always make you melt.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”

“No Jackie?”

“Nope.” 

You nod and kiss her cheek, “Can’t wait.”

Saturday comes, and you arrive at the restaurant. Seeing that Shauna isn’t there yet, you sit down in a booth and wait.

After 10 minutes you start to wonder what’s holding her up.

After 15 you get worried and send her a text ‘Hey I got us a booth, you almost here?’

After 20 minutes and the waitress refilling your water twice you finally get a text back. 

‘Hey baby sorry to do this so last minute but Jackie and Jeff just broke up and she needs me. Hope you understand.’

You stare at your phone for a while, unsure what to text back. You don’t know how long you were staring but the waitress circles back snapping you out of your trance.

“Hey, honey are you ready to order yet?”

She whispers kindly while glancing down at your phone, you tilt it down trying to hide the screen.

You want to answer but you’re afraid you’ll start sobbing the second you open your mouth.

“I-”

“I’m so sorry babe!”

Suddenly Lottie slides into the booth next to you.

“Practice ran late and then my phone died and I couldn't call an Uber to get here so I walked.”

She rambles on and on wrapping an arm around your waist.

You’re too stunned to speak but the waitress laughs and hands Lottie a menu.

“Oh thank goodness I thought the poor thing had been stood up.”

She says smiling at the two of you.

“No ma’am,”

Says Lottie smiling back at the older woman.

“Just ran a little late.”

The waitress walks away leaving the two of you alone in the booth.

“Lottie? What are you doing here?”

You ask watching her look over the menu carefully.

You don’t know much about Lottie. You’ve talked a few times while you waited for Shauna to get out of the locker room, and one time, she asked you for a pen in your English class and never gave it back.

“Well I came to get something to go but then I saw you here and heard the staff whispering that you’ve been here for like a half hour.”

You mumble hiding your face in your hands.

You look over by the entrance and see a group of waitresses whispering and looking at you. When they notice you’re looking, they all split up, and you watch one of them take plates away from a table that is clearly still eating as she tries to look busy. 

“God, can this day get any worse?”

“So why are you here by yourself? Where’s Shauna Isn’t today your anniversary?”

You peek at her from behind your hands.

“You know when our anniversary is?”

She nods chuckling with a small smirk.

“Kinda hard to forget the day Shauna got so annoying. So where is she?”

You take your hands away from your face and sigh trying to keep your voice from cracking.

“She’s with Jackie…I guess she and Jeff broke up and Shauna wanted to stay with her.”

Lottie puts the menu down looking at you in shock.

“You’re fucking with me.”

The waitress comes back and takes your orders. Lottie orders a grilled chicken sandwich with fries and you get a cheeseburger with fries.

As the waitress walks away again Lottie turns back to you.

“And she told you all this last minute?” 

You nod your head looking down at your water cup.

“Yeah, she texted me like 30 seconds before you showed up.”

The waitress comes back with your food and Lottie thanks her handing her a hundred-dollar bill.

“That’s enough right? And you can keep the rest as a tip for keeping my girlfriend here company while I was running late.”

The waitress nods thanking Lottie and walks away probably to brag about her tip.

“You usually don’t pay until you’re done eating ya’ know?”

You mumble trying not to blush, how can she call you her girlfriend so easily and just keep going like nothing happened?

“And what’s with the whole girlfriend comment?”

Lottie eats some of her fries with a grin.

“Well I figured you wouldn’t want them circling back with the check and I called you babe when I first got here so I thought I’d keep playing along.”

The two of you finish your food just talking and having a pretty good time overall, which is shocking given how the day started.

When the two of you get up to leave you grab onto the sleeve of Lottie’s sweater.

“Hey, I um…I got tickets to Beatlejuice Beatlejuice for me and Shauna. Do you wanna….”

Lottie smiles at you, not like her usual confident grin or her haughty little smirk but an actual smile. You let go of her sleeve and look down trying to get the butterflies in your stomach under control.

“Yeah sure lets go.”

[zombii-ships]

SDJ Boys taking care of a sick Sunshine

Jack

Absolutely a mother hen. He’s shadowing you the entire time you’re sick, like, dude’s not letting you out of his sight. He’s gonna try to make sure you get lots of rest, and won’t let you do anything too strenuous without his help. You’re gonna hear “You okay, sunshine? You need anything? You know i’m here for you, right?” a LOT.

He’s cooking meals, and has blankets and water on STOCK. Prepare to be cuddled as well, if you’re feeling cold. He’s more than happy to keep you warm. Overall he’s a little bit of a helicopter friend, but he’s very capable.

Jacktor

Jacktor’s trying his best. He’s a little nervous, and doesn’t wanna see anything happen to you, so he’s really gentle with you. Almost too gentle. Even if it’s a cold, he’s handling you like a glass ornament. Very sweet about it though. He’s the type to run back and forth to the store for whatever you might need. Drinks, medicine, a thermometer, he doesn’t mind as long as it helps you.

With training for the show, he doesn’t mind helping you out since the dude’s been around his fair share of sick kids and didn’t mind, so now that it’s his partner, he’s pretty well prepared. Nervous, but dude’s babying you just enough to notice.

Shaun

As soon as you text Shaun that you’re sick, he’s already on a mission. It feels like he’s at your place in like, three minutes. Shaun shows up with multiple bags in his arms, and a shit eating grin on his face. Lucky for you, he’s got a nice list of home remedies that will fix you up, and only a few of them taste gross!

He’s gonna have you propped up in bed or on the couch, talking to you or holding you while you have some homemade soup. He’s super good company, and since y’all are still pretty close pals, he’s attuned to when you seem like you’re doin worse or better, yall have a lot of laughs while you get better. Definitely also gonna get sick because he insisted on cuddling you still.

Nick

Nick’s got it covered, don’t worry about it. Whatever it is, whatever you’re sick with, he’s got it together for you. He’s not quite clinical with how he takes care of you, but he’s methodical about it. You’re taking your medicine at certain times, getting good warm meals throughout the day, and he’s taking your temperature every few hours. Guy’s got alarms set and everything.

He’s a little shit about some things for fun though, holding your cup of tea or a warm towel just out of reach just to mess with you. Laughing a bit when you try to get up, insisting “youre totally fine”, just to wobble a bit. Of course he’s gonna help you back to bed, but he’s also gonna tease you about it when you’re better.

Ian

Ian is. Trying so hard. He’s a nervous wreck when you’re not doing well, he’s half convinced himself that you’re gonna pass the fuck away when he sees you in the kitchen wrapped up in a blanket making yourself a cup of tea. Not only is he gonna scold you a bit about not taking better care of yourself, but also he’s gonna send you back to bed so he can finish steeping that cup for you.

Ian’s looking into your room what feels like every hour. Sometimes he just cracks the door, sometimes he pops his head in and you hear a little “Are you…okay, gorgeous? Anything I can do for you?” You’re gonna be reminding him that you’re not about to die throughout the duration of the time you’re sick. Very helpful, just also a little stressful.

[viamia]

You know, ever since I was a teenager I started having a lot of anxiety attacks, which I still face even today as I get older. I would really like to know how you think Sunny Day Jack and the other guys in the games would react or help if MC had an anxiety attack…

Oh you poor sweet soul, ill happily write this for you. I'm pray that you'll find a way to relax and keep calm.

Snaccpopstudio boys and how they help with your panic attacks

Tw:Mentions of extreme stress, panic attacks, and uncomfortable themes. Leave now if your uncomfortable with any if these topics

Jack: When you start hyperventilating, your body becoming shaky, jack immediately is on high alert and on the dot, making sure your in a quiet area with food and water to help calm your nerve. He whisper sweet nothings to you and just hold you until you calm down.

Ian:Poor baby is panicking and stressing just as much as you. He's trying to figure out how tf to calm you down. He ain't used to this, but he'll try his best to calm you down

Nick:immediately resorts to bringing out his pomeranians. He lets the pomeranians at least calm you down a bit. If that starts to wear down, he steps in and peppers you with kisses and basically spoils you. He lays you down on the couch and covers you a warm blanket, and puts on your favorite movie to help soothe your nerves

Shaun:Similar to Nick, pet to the rescue. Moonpie can tell when you're panicking. The only thing is, the poor girl is blind so Shaun helps to guide her. But instead of letting moonpie calm you down alone, he's there too, he has you in his lap, holding you in his arms as he kisses your head, telling you everything is ok and that's he's there for you.

Bo: when he sees you hyperventilating, he immediately jumps onto you and clings onto in a very tight hug. He's not the best with comfort since he's been in the tomodachi for like, 25 years. But, what I can imagine is him going into feed me mode (yes he'll be wearing pants, I see you people 🤨) so there's basically more for you to hug and more heat to help soothe you.

Taylor:He's trying his best :'). He's not the brightest, in my opinion, but definitely knows when you're having a P.A. he immediately runs off to grab snacks and a blanket. He wraps you in a blanket and holds you like your life depends on it, which, kinda does depending on how severe it is. He's trying his best to make sure your happy and comfortable

Elias: Elias, being a Victorian baby boy, doesn't really know what to do, man ain't used to it. The best he can do is make you some tea and make you your favorite dessert. He's trying his absolute hardest to make you comfortable and calm. He'll ask you questions like if your comfortable or if you need anything, so when your able to calm down, you can explain to him so he'll know what to do next time.

SUPER SUPER sorry that this took way longer then usual. I was tired and was all over the place. I hope you like it tho.

[wassertoffatom]

Request Thingie~ 19 with Paladin Danse?

Our Own Problems (Paladin Danse x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Prompt Master List

Author's Note: Thank you for the request! This is my first time writing for Danse! Also thank you @sparklingthedas for beta reading this!!! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: language, spoilers for Blind Betrayal, whomp whomp Danse is sad, reader is sad, everyone is sad

Word Count: 505

The sun barely peeks over the horizon, casting a gradual decline of midnight blue into burnt orange, signaling the beginning of a new day. A lone figure sits at the edge of the river, mindlessly tossing pebbles of various sizes into the water, observing the way the water ripples, mirroring his own life. What was once a still stream has now turned into a violent river.

“Thought I’d find you here,” a voice comments, groggy with sleep as the person stifles a yawn, standing above the man. “How are you doing?”

“How do you think I’m doing?” Danse questions bitterly, internally chastising himself. He doesn’t mean to come off as angry, especially not to you, but sometimes his words are quicker than his thoughts. “I’m not doing well.” It’s not an apology, but he’s hoping that you’d understand. You sit next to him, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs, resting your head on top. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” The sun continues to creep up along the horizon, beginning to cast light on some of the vegetation around you, but you and him are still clad in shadows.

“What could you possibly do that would help me? Everything I have ever known has been ripped right away from me.”

-POV Switch-

You pause for a minute, staring out into the fading blackness, trying to formulate your opinions. Would this be a good time to admit your feelings? Or at least on the path to them? “You can help us continue to build. Take your mind off of things. It helps me get my mind off of Shaun,” you admit but he doesn’t stir, causing you to curse his stoicalness. Just once you would like to see him show emotions. Here goes nothing. “You can stay here, with me.”

He shakes his head, causing your heart to slowly chip. “That doesn’t really help me.”

Sighing in remorse, you look away from him as tears well up in your eyes. You understand that he’s hurting. You understand that the very morals that he preached about are now in deep, murky, water. But still, he’s not the only person going through stuff. “You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

“What was that, soldier?” His voice is terse as he looks at you. Even in the dark you can see the raging rapids behind his eyes.

“All I try to do is help you. All I have ever done is try to help you and you’re not grateful. I understand that you’re going through a hard time, but Danse, I am too. My literal son is the head of the fucking Institute, and yet, I still try to put on a smile to help you.” You abruptly stand up, dusting your pants with a huff as his eyes focus on your frame, silent guilt creeping in on him. “Enjoy your thoughts,” with a scoff, you walk away from the former paladin, leaving him all alone again.

Author's Note: So sorry it's super short but I hope you enjoyed it!! Thank you again for the request!

[season-77]

For the sake of our research on fidgets, I watched the Vigil Q&A again and discovered a completely new fidget named ... just Shaun himself. He is literally one big fidget; for 36 minutes of the recording, he couldn't sit still, constantly fidgeting, drinking, changing positions, etc. Additionally, Suranne Jones rarely let him get a word in, so he had a lot of time to fill… Anyway, see for yourselves.

In the first few minutes of the recording, Shaun sits relatively calmly, expecting that he will soon be answering a question.

2. Suranne keeps talking without a break, so the bottle comes into play.

*Fourth photo: Finally, a question for Shaun. Here we have the talking hands variant without putting down the full bottle – attention! only for advanced users.

3. Unfortunately, the water is finished, and Suranne doesn't let go of the microphone, so the fidgeting hands are joined by fidgeting legs, creating many interesting configurations.

*I was particularly charmed by the foot-on-foot pose at some strange angle (second and third photos).

4. Someone joked: I just love how Shaun throws his head back when he laughs…

5. Somehow Shaun managed to answer 2 questions! So, Suranne felt like the interview was slipping out of her control and sharply went on the attack. Shaun had nothing left to do but continue fidgeting.

As Suranne keeps talking, Shaun wonders if he turned off the iron…

Phew… finally, it's over.

For those who made it to the end, here's a bonus photo where Shaun is pondering his response to one of the three questions and looks adorable.

Thank you for your attention.

[formlines]

Reflection

Qwalsius/Shaun Peterson

from the website: As the saying goes, hindsight is 2020. Of course this references vision, but as much as I shy from these nuanced phrases, it’s inevitable. Not unlike the other phrase, “I wish I knew then what I know now”. Just before the pandemic I was setting on making–and still am–the work of my dreams. I always wanted to see the art tradition of the land I was born and have deep roots in recognized in a higher profile. Like roots, it takes time for a message to break through and connect. All that said, there were foundations that helped me get there, which are many.

In process of carving I have always been aware that the cedar I carve was alive, and from this place, and therefore sacred. It can be daunting to think about what you are shaping into something and be lead into paralysis by analysis. Which lead to my naming of this print as such. I felt it wasn’t easy to name something with complex reflection, which it is ultimately named. It is something that isn’t talked about often, but it’s not always clear what I am making as I am making it, or why it comes to be a driving factor for me to make it.

As a Native artist, I’m often asked about casinos and stereotypes of my culture. We are unfortunately not well represented or visible. To some, we are like unicorns in the wild, which is something I have finally made peace with over the years. In the end, we are human beings like anyone else, but with a unique history in the land of the free and home of the brave.

During the time of ‘lock down’ in the early pandemic, I was nervous like anyone else, but somewhat reluctant about how I could express it. I had worked on designs that could be looked at as a card deck, and from there this image shaped itself. Examining what our ancestors would think about how we live today, caught in a game of monetary values as a gauge of worth. Yet, all the while thinking of underlying values of the environment that shaped our culture.

Harvesting cedar bark from the trees to provide shelter and clothing is, or at least was, commonplace at a time. Bark pounded into soft fiber, roots woven into hats, capes lined with eagle down as means to literally remind us our connection to the land and its values. It was a different time and a different world in many ways. However, in time of isolation–which I have to do as part of my nature of occupation painting or carving–I recalled a powerful memory of a woman and man wearing cedar clothing, not entirely, but a hat, a backpack and eagle feathers crossing the street in downtown Seattle. It made me light up to know that they were not putting on a show or flaunting culture in opposition, but moving about as we all do in our daily lives.

Something about that memory made me put a pen in my hand and start drawing something from what was not comfortable, necessarily, but felt right to me. In this time of reflection I was thinking about the mask of this day we wear for function and not for show. Then, equally, how we put on a mask to show how happy we are when we aren’t, and how it took a pandemic for some to come to grips with this. I would be lying if I said this wasn’t something I wrestle with, but I’m no shaman, I’m no leader, I’m a product of my environment. I’m fortunate to have roots that kept me grounded here and I see the power of reflection in so many ways. Like anyone else, looking into my phone doesn’t tell me who I am or where I came from. No more than a screen does, or looking in the mirror.

I also wanted to depict somehow a modern reflection of a story of a man who sought fire for power so much that he had become it. Without humility, we give up more than we know. For some it is time, for some it is value, but there is resolution where lightning touches the water.

[bagog]

If you're still taking the reverse trope prompts, may I have too hot to cuddle for (m)Shenko? Absolutely happy to have Shaun featuring as well if the muse strikes but absolutely not required!

Sounds like fun! Lemme see what I can do:

++

The air inside the Citadel apartment was crisp--frigid, even. Kaidan padded around the kitchen barefoot, wearing one of Shepard's too-small-for-him shirts and a pair of sweatpants, once in a while rubbing his arms to try to smooth out the gooseflesh there.

Shepard and he had planned on a staycation in their apartment while Kaidan was off from his duties, and so the fridge was well stocked. This wasn't exactly how they'd imagined it going, however.

"Alright Shepard," Kaidan called, walking up the stairs with several food items in his arms. "I've got marjan fruit, grape leaves, rye toast, and corn porridge. Any of that sound good?"

Shepard lay in their bed, looking bedraggled. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and a fine sheen of sweat made him look... sticky. The Ifter-Manatoit fever was not a good look on him.

Despite his husband listing off some of his favorite foods, Shepard stared blankly up at Kaidan, shaking his head. His throat dry, he rasped, "Sorry, I just don't think I'm hungry."

"Okay," Kaidan smiled, but there was a watchful caution in his eyes. "Well, I'll keep it all up here, just in case you decide you want something."

"I just..." Shepard cleared his throat, swallowing dryly, "Just want to sit with you, if that's alright."

Kaidan nodded warmly and set the food next to the bed. He fetched his book from the bedside table and slid into bed next to Shepard. His husband scooched over and laid his head on Kaidan's chest, hooking one leg over Kaidan's and holding him tight. Kaidan kept one arm behind Shepard's back, softly stroking up and down his spine, while he held is book in the other hand.

Shepard was asleep--or as good as asleep--in minutes: soft breath against Kaidan's chest. Kaidan could normally pass several hours like a sieve with the right book, but today he found his mind wandering.

It was like there was a radiator wrapped around him, cuddling up to one side. It wasn't till sweat dripped from his hair onto his shirt that Kaidan realized how much of Shepard's excess heat he'd been absorbing. He sweltered for another thirty minutes before gently shaking Shepard awake.

"Hmuh?"

"You're still burning up, Shepard," Kaidan placed his sweaty palm against Shepard's sweaty forehead as if to confirm. But when Shepard pulled away, the imprint of his body was left as a wet patch running down Kaidan's side, his sweats and t-shirt soaked. "I imagine its gotta be uncomfortable cuddling up like this."

"I already feel awful," Shepard declared, pitifully, "Worth feeling a little more awful to be... I mean... You are not awful. You are good. You are a good. You're worth it, you know?"

"Shepard, you're delirious," Kaidan intoned, but there was a bit of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "I have an idea, I'll be right back, okay?"

Once he moved away from the bed, the air conditioning of the apartment once again had him shivering as he made his way into the master bathroom.

A few moments later, he came back and shook Shepard awake once more. "Here, come with me. Shoulda had this idea two days ago."

Shepard stumbled out of bed, Kaidan supporting him under a shoulder like the old soldier needed a patch up. In the bathroom, Shepard stared down into the hot tub with a questioning look.

"Do... I smell that bad?" Shepard rasped.

"Ha!" Kaidan exclaimed. "No comment. But no, let me help you in."

"Too hot," Shepard shook his head. "No hot tub. Please?"

"It's alright, it's not hot. Just... temperate. Not quite cold, but definitely not hot. Lean on me, there you go." Shepard stepped into the water with Kaidan help and sank into the water. The sound of relief that came out of his mouth as he sat and let the water lap up and over his shoulders was pure relief.

Kaidan quickly peeled off his own sweaty clothes and tossed them in the hamper before carefully stepping into the cool water.

"Now we can still hang out and be comfortable," Kaidan said, but he couldn't keep the shiver out of his voice as he took his seat next to Shepard and put an am around his husband's shoulders.

"You... cold?" Shepard said, dreamily. "Nooooo. Here." He wrapped his arms around Kaidan beneath the water and laid his--admittedly still damp head--on Kaidan's shoulder. Between the heat radiating off Shepard and the coolness of the water, Kaidan stopped shivering and stopped sweating. Shepard snoozed against his shoulder, and Kaidan let his head fall back against the tile.

Shepard needed rest. Shepard needed to cool off. And Shepard needed Kaidan. Kaidan smiled to himself that--at least this once--he was able to give Shepard exactly what he needed.

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 24

Hancock x Nora - A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU

//

Fic Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

//

[ 1 ] <- [ 19 ] [ 20 ] [ 21 ] [ 22 ] [ 23 ]

//

Two weeks had come and gone since Nora had taken up residence at the Slog, and she was sure that if she ever had it her way she’d never leave. The people were so willing to accept her into their social circles, and that in itself was borderline mind blowing. Striking up conversation with the Sanctuary crew felt so stilted, so forced. Perhaps it was because the expectations for her in Sanctuary were so high. The ghouls in the Slog didn’t expect anything out of her, but they were more than willing to teach valuable post-war life skills and Nora was an incredibly eager student. In the midst of it all, under Arlen’s gentle guidance, Nora was learning how to build a water purifier. 

All it took was a passing complaint about Sanctuary and the water purifier debacle; about how they seemed to assume she just had that sort of mechanical knowledge, or would be able to magically procure one. It was just some idle venting as she visited with the older ghoul in his workshop; nothing more, nothing less. Arlen had hummed thoughtfully, then promptly guided her out of his workshop, telling Nora to go offer Jones and Holly some help in the garden. It was a couple hours later, as she was chopping tatos for dinner, when Arlen emerged from his workshop. He called her name, and once she reached him, he passed her a slip of ancient notebook paper. It was a schematic, a blueprint. In clean writing off to the side, he listed the required components, and what sort of machinery she could dig around to find them. 

“If you want to get the parts, we can work on it together,” he had told her. His gentle smile was so fatherly, so caring. Nora couldn’t help it, she pulled the man into a tight hug. 

It felt as if Nora had cashed in every ounce of good karma she had saved up. No one in the Slog would accept any compensation for their time, and tutelage. No one would accept caps as a thanks. It didn’t feel like it was nearly enough, but all they would take from her was her gratitude and on some days they made that seem as if it were too much. Or, Holly would just get a little fed up with all the thank yous, and would tell Nora to stop saying it…

Though Nora still experienced moments of extreme guilt when she realized how little progress she had made when it came to finding her boy, it was quickly quelled when she reminded herself that she didn’t know how to survive on her own. If she managed to find Shaun, she wouldn’t know how to take care of him, she barely knew how to take care of herself. Nora didn’t want to be the reason why her son fell ill, or went hungry. So she learned what plants were acceptable to eat. She learned how to harvest vegetables, and razor grain. She learned how they stored their meat, and how to keep it properly preserved. And with Arlen Glass’ help, she would learn how to create a source of clean drinking water. Baby steps were still steps.

After accepting the blueprint from Arlen, Nora finally ventured away from the Slog to hunt down the supplies that she needed to build the water purifier. Every morning, after helping with breakfast, Nora would set out to scrounge up whatever scraps and machinery that she could. She siphoned gasoline, she hoarded fan belts, screws, and bolts. She would haul bags of gear back to the Slog, depositing them on Arlen’s workbench before setting out again. In the evenings, after she got back, Nora would help with dinner and then take a shift at evening watch. In the midst of it all, as she worked, as she traveled, her and John got to know each other.

They would go through daily idle chatter (”How was your day, dear?”), then continue on with any number of things. They covered a vast spectrum of topics, from favorite colors and foods, to more philosophical things. John divulged childhood memories, and awkward teenage experiences, and Nora would follow suit. As the days went on, Nora found herself becoming incredibly fond of the man. He was charismatic, and he was a whole lot smarter than he gave himself credit for. He was loyal to the people he considered his, and as loyal as he was he was even more protective. Nate would have loved him. The more Nora got to know John Hancock of Goodneighbor, the more certain she was that Nate and John would have been fast friends. They were both stubborn and loyal to a fault. They were both strong, and capable men, and even though she had only known John for a short while, she knew without a doubt that both men would bend over backwards to make her happy. John had helped her with so many things. She owed him so much. 

Bit by bit, she gathered the things on Arlen’s list and, after days of meticulous searching, she had everything that they needed. She stopped her daily wandering, and took up a spot in Arlen’s workshop where, together, they started constructing the water purifier. 

“Sounds like all he wants from you is a chance,” Arlen said, passing her a pair of needle nose pliers. “When you’re ready, I think you should give that to him.”

Arlen Glass had become her best friend, her confidant. After giving her tea on her first night he had somehow become a post-apocalypse father figure. His guidance helped Nora rediscover her confidence.

“Nate would want me to be happy, but – Ouch!” she recoiled, eyeballing a small bleeding cut on her finger. Nora leaned in close to the chassis of the under-construction water purifier. She nearly stuck her head inside as she searched for what had done the damage. “But I’m… afraid, I guess?”

“Afraid of being happy, when you think you shouldn’t be allowed to?”

Nora’s eyes shot to Arlen’s in surprise. Arlen was usually a little more gentle with his advice. He would pass her the seeds, but he would let her plant and sow things on her own. He wasn’t typically so blunt, but having heard Arlen’s story, she understood where he was coming from. He’d had a family, a beautiful one; but he had sacrificed happiness for work, and then he lost everything.

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds dumb,” she grumbled almost petulantly. She turned her attention back to their project.

Arlen chuckled in that airy way of his as he said, “You smile when you talk about Nate and John, you know. I don’t know if you’ve noticed.

Nora’s gaze tore away from her project yet again. Arlen had settled back in the old chair in his workshop. It was his typical sitting place whenever he read his morning paper. Instead of reclining back in the chair he was leaning forward, knees on his elbows, with a small, knowing smile. 

“You’re a smart woman, Eleanor. You should know that you wouldn’t be betraying Nathan by finding happiness again. If he was anything like you’ve said, he would want you safe, and happy. He’d want you to love and be loved.”

There was a sudden tightness in Nora’s throat. She did her best to swallow it down, and turn her attention back to the purifier but Arlen was suddenly at her side, cupping her face in his hands. They were hearty, weathered and overly textured, but they were also warm and grounding. 

“It’s okay for you to be happy, Eleanor,” he said it slowly, deliberately. “It’s okay.”

Nora’s hands rested over Arlen’s as she warbled, dangerously close to crying, “What if I fall in love with him and—“

“Honey, I think you might have already. Even if only a little bit.” The statement was like a kick to the gut, delivered with a smile. It knocked Nora’s world off its axis. Arlen continued, “If there is anything that can be learned from loss, it’s that you need to love the people in your life as strongly, and as fiercely as you can, because we never know when those special people will be taken away. Just remember, he will never replace Nate. You have a big heart, Eleanor. There is space for John in there, too.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice tight. That’s all she said because that’s all she could muster. 

“I’m not saying that you need to hurry up and stop mourning; and I’m not saying that you need to hurry up and fall in love.” The old ghoul placed a kiss to the crown of her head before leveling his eyes with hers. “But you need to know that it’s okay when you do. Grief doesn’t have an expiration date. If you wait for it to go away naturally, you’ll be waiting for forever and a day.”

“So it never goes away? It’s… This? Forever?” The guilt for growing fond of another man, the feeling of replacing someone she loved, the lingering dredges of hurt that hung around in her chest.

Arlen withdrew, turning his eyes to the in-progress water purifier, and then the pieces of an old Giddyup Buttercup. “They say that time heals all wounds, but it doesn’t. It just makes it easier to deal with.”

“Hey, smoothskin!” It was Wiseman’s voice, calling her from the front of the pool house.

Nora closed her eyes, swallowing at the lump in her throat, “Yeah?” She called out as Arlen picked up the needle nose pliers, and took over the task at hand.

“You got a visitor!”

The frown that had been marring Nora’s features deepened. Damn near every single person she knew who would want to visit her already lived in the Slog. Unless it was Preston for some reason. Or John. She was too aware of the way her heart leapt. Slowly, she peaked out of one of the broken windows to get eyes on the visitor. From a glance, it wasn’t anyone that she recognized from Sanctuary, and it most definitely wasn’t John. Nora’s hand immediately began to drift down to the pistol holstered at her thigh. 

“Go on,” Arlen said. “I’ll finish up this bit, and we can pick it up later.”

“Arlen?” 

“Mm?” He hummed, haltingly. 

She placed a hand on his forearm, leaning in to kiss the older man’s cheek. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

He tossed his head and said again, “Go on.”

With no small amount of hesitance, she left Arlen’s shop, stepping out into the early evening air. It had been a warm day, enough so that Nora had unzipped the top half of her vault suit in favor of adorning an oversized t-shirt. The arms of the suit were tied securely around her waist, and her hair was tied back into a ponytail. Her hands were greasy, scraped, and she could make out the dark smear of oil across her nose. She wasn’t really dressed for company, but she supposed that she never would be. 

Stepping around the building, Nora cleared her throat. The newcomer turned to face her. A smoothskin, like her. He wore an old conductor styled hat, a long coat, and he had a rifle hanging off his shoulder from a makeshift sling that looked to be fastened from an old belt. As she grew closer, she noted that he was handsome. Cheekbones that she could cut herself on, a proud, straight nose. Tanned, blue eyes, and a confident smile. 

“Well,” he said at length, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Nora held her distance, fishing an old rag from her pocket so she could start cleaning her hands. The tenuous grasp on her emotions turned steely as she stared the stranger down. No one would know that she had been on the brink of crying (ugh, again) thirty seconds ago. She eyed him warily, “Do I know you?”

His smile grew, “No. But I know you.”

The man’s eyes followed her hand as it dropped down to her side, resting casually by her pistol. Off to the side, she could see Wiseman tense and reach for her own weapon. 

Suddenly, the man laughed, “Calm down, girl! Shi-oot, I’m a friendly.” He’d almost said ‘shit’ but he had redirected. She didn’t know why, but that seemed important. She’d stow that away for later.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t believe you.”

“Why don’t you, uh…” his index finger tapped his temple. 

At this point, the Slog ghouls knew that Nora had a soulmate. It was hard to keep things secret when the space was so open, and communal. Especially when they noticed just how much she seemed to talk to herself. She couldn’t find the ability to look any of them in the eye and just insist that she was a touch crazy.

Without breaking eye contact with the stranger, Nora opened her end of the bond and reached. “John?”

The answer was immediate, ”What’s crackin’, doll fa – shit, is that MacCready? Fuck, he works fast…”

“You know him?” she asked, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. Wiseman waved his hand, catching her attention. He made a gesture, indicating that he was going to be inside. She nodded, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’.

”Yeah, I know him. He’s out that way runnin’ an errand or two for me. I didn’t expect for him to get to you for another week or so.”

“Wh-why didn’t you tell me that he was coming? I… God, I was getting freaked out.” It could have been another one of those sickos from the drive-in. It could have been someone much, more worse.

“Easy, angel,” the man known as MacCready drawled. “I told you, I’m a friendly.”

”Don’t you call her that, you little shit.”

Nora snorted, then immediately covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. She wanted to be irritated, dang it. The second he had made arrangements for someone to come meet her, she should have known about it. She composed herself, dropping her hand. “He said your name was MacCready?”

“Yep! RJ MacCready, and you must be Nora,” he held out his hand, and Nora reached to shake it. Only for her hand to be lifted, she watched with almost wide eyes as he pursed his thin lips to plant a kiss to her skin. 

”Goddammit, MacCready!”

MacCready stopped, a mere centimeter from making contact, and then he snickered, giving her hand a firm shake. He was laughing, eyes glittering with his amusement. He seemed to be banking on John seeing the interaction, and had been aiming to irritate Nora’s soulmate for fun.

”Tell that little fucker that he ain’t gettin’ paid for shit!”

It didn’t matter how much she wanted to be angry, she couldn’t even manage a bit of irritation to shoot in John’s direction. 

“He mad?” MacCready asked, his smile stretched from ear-to-ear..

Maybe it was the total relief that she felt, but Nora couldn’t help but laugh as she replied, “He seems to be a little annoyed, yeah.”

“Awesome.”

\\

Tag List: @takottai / @a-little-pebbl  / @yamatra

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 6 (MBJ x Famous OC)

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of past experience with DV

A/N: I'm really excited about this one because… we are getting some fluff and smut with minimal to no angst lol love that for them! Enjoy!

“So how’s shit with Charlotte going?” Calliet asked, the loud crack of the pool table filling the air as Michael took his first shot.

“You mean, Els, get that shit right nigga,” Stello interjected, snickering lightly as Michael rolled his eyes at him. If there was one thing his friends were always going to do, it was make fun of his romantic side. 

Michael let out a low chuckle, choosing to let his best friend’s comment pass him by without a retort. “We’re good. She’s… she’s good.” 

“You sure? Cause you don’t seem sure.” His friends immediately picked up on the pause in his words.

“Nah, she is good. Great actually. I’m gonna sound crazy sayin’ this but she’s the one.” 

“Nigga, it’s been three months. Relax, my guy.” 

Michael shrugged. “When you know, you know. And I know that shit. It’s just…” Michael scratched his head. He had not told his friends about Charlotte’s past yet. He questioned whether it was his place to do so, to share details of her life she did not offer up herself. It seemed that only her family and closest friends knew the truth and he did not want to spread it around. However, he could not deny that he could use a sounding board as he navigated such murky waters. And he was not a man who was afraid to talk with his boys about his problems and be vulnerable. He decided he would just keep it vague, the details were Charlotte’s story to tell. “Things really are good. It’s just this shit from her past that comes up occasionally. Her ex was abusive.” 

“Oh shit. For real?” 

“Fuck.” 

“He hit her?” 

Michael shook his head. “Yea. The couple things she told me were fuckin’ insane. And I don’t think I’ve heard the worst of it. If I ever see that nigga…” He let out a deep exhale as he clenched his fists. Michael was far from a violent person, he could not even tell you the last time he even had a desire to get into a fight with anyone. Everyone in his orbit, including himself, would describe him as the calming force in a room, he always had the ability to keep his emotions in check. However, if he thought too long or too hard about Shaun Parker, all he could feel was rage. And the only action he could think of was ripping him limb from limb. 

“Damn, that’s tough. How is she doin’?” 

“Most of the time, she’s great. She’s herself. You know she’s shy and reserved in front of other people but once she’s comfortable, she’s so energetic and fun to be around. She’s charming but still has that cute awkward shit goin’ on that keeps her real and honest, fuckin’ hilarious. But the rest… I’ll say or do somethin’ that triggers her and she seems terrified of me but doesn’t know it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like it’s not a conscious thing but I can feel it wafting off of her sometimes. The first time, she broke a wine glass at my place by accident, got red wine on the rug. She’s clumsy as fuck. But I don’t care. It’s actually kinda cute. And shit happens. It’s just a fuckin’ rug. By the time she came over again, I had a new one already. She looked like she had seen a ghost, pale and freaked out. She apologized a hundred times. Her hands were shakin’ so hard, she couldn’t even pick up the glass. A couple weeks ago, she forgot we made dinner plans, same thing. And it wasn’t a big deal at all. I actually preferred it cause I was tired as hell. We ordered in and just talked. But I could feel her whole body tense like she was waiting for me to lash out at her. We were out last week, she was chatting with the waiter while I took a call. She was like an entirely different person when I got back to the table. And I wasn’t thinkin’ twice about who the fuck she talked to. But in her mind, she committed a crime or some shit.” 

“That shit’s heavy,” Calliet offered as he rounded the pool table for his shot. “Seems like small shit to us but to her, it means a whole other thing. How you dealing’ with it? I know that shit bothers you.” 

Michael scoffed, taking a long sip of his drink. “Of course it fuckin’ bothers me. To have the woman I love seem terrified of me, terrified I would even consider hurting her like that? Shit is frustrating. But I dunno. I did all this research on how to be supportive and been slowly tryin’ to add that in. But I dunno. Just worried it isn’t enough.” 

“Want my two cents?” Steelo offered. Michael was usually weary of taking relationship advice from his best friend. Steelo’s longest committed relationship amounted to months. But he also never pretended he wanted anything else, he was more than happy living the single bachelor life. Michael decided to just hear him out. If it was bad, which it was likely to be, he would just ignore it. 

“Hit me.”  

“I know I was anti-Charlotte after everything went down in Philly but this the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I think you gotta just keep showing up and maybe, actually talk to her? Research is great, google is your best friend. And you can do all that. But you also gotta know what she needs and the only person who can tell you that is her. Ask her, give her time to figure out what she needs from you, and then do those things in addition to the other shit. And I know it sounds crazy but maybe she also just has to hear you say that shit. You know… assurances and all that… women love that shit.” 

Michael glanced at Calliet who merely shrugged. “Hey, I agree with him. Broken clock is right twice a day.” 

The men laughed a bit at Michael’s friend’s expense before the only married man in the group added, “Nah but forreal. The kid is right. Talk to her. Ask her how you can make her more comfortable and go from there.” 

“That might be the first solid dating advice you’ve given me.” 

“Check back in another decade, I might have more.” 

***

“Dinner was delicious, babe. You know when you said you could cook, I definitely thought you were lying.” 

Michael chuckled. “My momma taught me a thing or two. Said she wasn’t raisin’ niggas who couldn’t throw down in the kitchen.” 

She nodded. “Well, shout out to your mom. The women of the world, particularly this one,” she pointed at herself. “Thank her.” 

He brought her a plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it, his favorite. He smiled as she did a little happy dance in her seat. His girl most certainly had a sweet tooth. 

“Don’t tell me you made this too? Cause then I might have to marry you,” she joked. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby,” he winked at her and smirked, causing her to roll her eyes. “But nah, my sister would kill me if I took credit for that. She’s the baker. I’m hopeless with desserts. It’s my favorite thing of hers. ” 

“Then we are a perfect pair. You can cook and I’ll make dessert.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he kissed the top of her head before settling back in his seat. 

He watched her eat for a few minutes, enjoying her facial expressions and small but distinct sounds of delight with every bite. She was clearly in heaven. But tonight had not just been about showing his girl a fun time and cooking for her, it was also about broaching a difficult conversation and putting his friends’ advice into action.

“Hey, Els.” 

“What’s up?” 

He held out his hand for hers, his thumb going to rub the inside of her wrist. He started doing it more often after their dinner date fiasco, realizing that she seemed to respond well to it. It was a small and gentle touch, but every time he did, her body visibly relaxed and seemed more at ease instinctually. 

“What do you need from me to feel more comfortable and safe?”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow in confusion, her spoon gently clattering against the slide of her plate as she sat it down. “What prompted that question, Mr. Jordan?” 

“Well, I just know this is your first relationship since everything. There are triggers and shit that are gonna come up. And that’s ok, I know it all takes time. I just… I want to assure you that I ain’t him. And I would never hurt you. And whatever you need me to do to help you believe that and feel you know, more at ease, I’ll do it.”

Charlotte’s heart melted for a moment before her own guilt set in. She tried not to think much about her triggers. They happened far too often. And each time, she would curse herself for it, profusely remind herself that Michael was not her ex, and swear to herself that it wouldn’t happen again. However, it always did and it felt like by the time she saw it coming, it was too late to stop it. However, what she never wanted to do was make him believe she thought he was like Shaun. She knew that was not the case in her heart, mind, and soul. However, she knew, as the famous book and her therapist constantly reminded her, the body kept a different score, kept a laundry list of every beating, every humiliating and degrading moment. She may have pushed the memories out of her mind but every single one was still etched in her bones. And she could not force that out of herself, it would only take time. 

She clenched her eyes shut for a moment before sighing. “I’m sorry, Bakari. I-I never want you to feel like I think you’d hurt me or something. I know… I know that isn’t you.”

He shook his head. “Hey. Don’t apologize. I didn’t bring it up to blame you. Your past is part of you and I know it ain’t shit you can just turn on and off when it’s convenient. That’s why I want to know how I can help?” 

Charlotte stood up, abandoning her cake to join him across the table, sitting on his lap. Her hand settled against his cheek, her fingers playing with his coarse facial hair. 

“There is nothing you need to change, Michael. A-and I’m not just saying that. You’re everything I could hope for. And you treat me better than I could’ve dreamed for myself. I guess…” She paused. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be trying to be in a relationship again. I’m not afraid of you. But when you live in constant fear for so long, it sort of becomes part of you. It guided every decision, every choice, every action… every second of every day. And I think, sometimes, even though I know in my soul you aren’t him, that fear is still there in my bones. And when it hits, I don’t even realize it until it feels like I’m drowning in it. A-and I’m sorry for that because I know it’s not fair to you. I’m trying really, I promise.” She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, afraid of where this conversation might actually be headed. “B-But if it’s too much for you, I u-understand. I c-can’t expect you to stick around forever while I figure o-out my -”  

“Love, stop. Breathe. That’s not what this is at all. I’m here until you get sick of me, baby girl.” He peppered her face with pecks causing her to laugh. “And don’t apologize to me cause I don’t need it or want it. I just want you to be ok and happy with me, not worried when some other shoe is gonna drop. If there’s nothing, great. But if there is, I just want to know it. We don’t gotta discuss it tonight. I have a whole surprise waiting for you downstairs. Ain’t tryin’ ruin it. But just promise me, if you ever feel like you do need something from me to feel safer o-or I’m doing something that makes you feel unsafe, promise me you’ll tell me.”

She pressed her lips to his. She appreciated that he was not shying away from her reality, that he was jumping in to address the hard things. She would not have blamed him if he wanted to end things but he was still here, still loving her and wanting to work through the kinks of their relationship. If he was willing to have hard conversations, she had to be willing too. She could not just will all of this away, she had to actively work on it. 

“I promise.” 

“Aight, good. Now we got the hard stuff outta the way, wanna follow me to the basement?” 

“Are you gonna tell me what the surprise is? I thought you cooking for me and the food not killing me was the surprise?” 

“Ha. Ha. Ha. And nah, I’m beginning to think you really don’t know what surprise means.” 

“I know what it means, I just like to be in the know.”

“Alright, close your eyes.” 

“Bakari…” she whined. 

“Just do it, Els. Damn, you never listen to a nigga,” he mumbled. 

She winked at him before acquiescing to his wishes and closing her eyes. 

One hand held onto hers while his free hand settled on her hip as he led her downstairs and around a corner to his movie room. 

“Ok, open.” 

She opened her eyes to find the room completely different from the last time she came down there. Giant cozy pillows and blankets draped like a tent covered the floor, a whole set up of popcorn and other snacks and two cocktail glasses waiting for them.

“I know you’re kind of a homebody so a more creative spin on dinner and a movie?” He offered with a shrug. 

“You did all this??” 

“Yea, I remember you mentioned once on set that you and your siblings used to have movie nights and make forts in your basement.” 

She giggled as he led her to the perfectly constructed tent in his basement. He essentially turned his downstairs into a campground, with soft lightening and cushy blankets and pillows littering the floor around his flat screen tv. 

“This is far better than any fort we made.”

It clearly had taken him and perhaps a team of people time to set it all up. It was beautiful. She leaned over and picked up a pack of gummy bears, her favorite. “You didn’t have to do all this for me,” she whispered. “It’s too much.” 

Michael shook his head. “Nothing is ever too much for you. Besides, press tour is in what, two weeks? We’re gonna be busy so we gotta enjoy the time together while we can.”  

Michael went to the bar to pull out a pitcher of mojitos before he got situated in their fort next to her.

“Not gonna lie. I’m kinda looking forward to it. It’ll be my first real press tour.”

“I’m about to be all your work firsts, then?” 

Charlotte nodded as she took a sip of the cocktail Michael made for her. 

“Yea and some personal ones, I’m sure,” she muttered under her breath, thinking back to the conversation with her friends.

“What’s that mean?” 

She let out a nervous laugh and shook her head. “Nothing, nothing at all.” She turned the gummy bears toward him, allowing him to take a handful before she snuggled into his side. 

The pair snuggled and joked as they watched Bad Boys, a movie that made it onto both of their top five movies lists. Their banter carried them through most of the film, the pair analyzing and offering their two cents as if they were experts on thwarting criminals. The pair made their way through an obscene amount of snacks and a pitcher of mojitos as they watched the first movie and its sequel. 

“Those drinks were so good,” she muttered as she examined the now-empty pitcher, a small pout on her features. “If this whole acting thing doesn’t work out, you could be a bartender for sure.” 

Michael laughed and rubbed her thigh. “You wanna just crash here? You shouldn’t drive home after all that. And it’s already late as hell,” he remarked, glancing at his watch to find it was almost 1 am.  

She shrugged and winked at him. “Jokes on you… that was alllllll part of the plan. Your bed is more comfortable than mine.” 

“Damn, you just usin’ a nigga for a comfortable bed??” 

“Not just the bed… Comfortable bed, free meals, cuddly oversized sweatshirts,” she listed on her fingers with a sly smile. 

“You know I’m good for other things too,” he whispered with a smirk on his face, his fingers drawing featherlike patterns on her exposed thigh that sent chills down her spine. She knew exactly what he was suggesting and she did not know if it was the liquor or just the overall effect he had on her body, but she wanted to know what those things were. She wanted more. More of him, more of his touch, more of his love. And she did not want to wait a single moment longer. 

And she did not want the night to end, their last true moment of solitude before life picked up again. They would be traveling and exhausted for a month. Though she was excited to spend her first press run with him, she knew it would not be true alone time. It would be work and since they were not a public couple yet, they would have to exercise some discretion.

She threw caution to the wind and straddled his hips, ignoring his surprised look as she took charge of the moment. She kissed him before nibbling on his ear and whispering, “Why don’t you show me?” 

Usually, those words would have had Michael ripping a woman’s clothes off within milliseconds. However, despite the lust coursing through him, he forced himself to pause and confirm her wishes. Once he knew Charlotte wanted to take it slow, he always made sure to pump the brakes before things got too hot and heavy between them. No matter how hard it was - and it was excruciatingly hard - it was one of his many attempts to show Charlotte that he understood and respected her boundaries and subtly remind her she had agency in their relationship. He never wanted her to feel pressured to do something she did not want to do because she was conditioned never to say no. He wanted her to know she was steering the ship and he was fine with whatever speed she chose. 

Admittedly, this was the longest he ever waited for a woman to sleep with him. They were well into month three and had not progressed past heated make out sessions. However, Michael, honestly, did not mind. He longed to bury himself inside her, to taste her, to show her pleasure she had never known before. But he knew it would be more enjoyable for both of them if she was truly ready for it. 

Michael’s eyes grew wide with surprise as her statement settled in his brain matter. He leaned back over her, his soft hand cupped her cheek and held her eyes to his. 

“You sure? We don’t gotta do anything you aren’t ready for, Els. And we been drinkin’ and shit. I’ll wait as long as you want, love.” 

Charlotte offered him a soft smile. “I know. And it’s very sweet and it makes me love you even more if that’s even fucking possible,” she let out a nervous laugh. “I trust you a-and I want you. That’s all I need. So I am very ready for you to break my back like you promised.” 

Michael chuckled and kissed her on the neck softly. 

“You sure?” 

Charlotte knew she would not find the words to describe how desperately she needed him. It was no longer a want that could be diminished by her anxieties and fears, it was a need. A need that felt as fundamental to her survival as oxygen to her lungs and sustenance to her body. His willingness to take it slow and respect her boundaries, the ways he went out of his way to make her feel safe and desired daily only increased her lust. So she decided to show him through action. 

“Yes…” she reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it over her shoulders, thankful she decided to wear a matching bra and panty set. She had no intention, originally, of their date night taking this specific turn but she was grateful nonetheless. She felt empowered and assured in her decision as she watched his reaction, pure lust and desire taking over his features. 

He licked his lips before he captured hers again. She moaned as his hands enjoyed free reign of her body, softly kneading and gripping her ass and thighs. She could feel the desire pooling between her legs, the movie playing on the tv long forgotten. She did not stop him as he flipped her onto her back, his chest pressed against hers as he sucked on the soft skin of her neck. 

Michael took his time as he kissed her, paying close attention to every moan and groan, his ears perking up when he hit a sweet spot. He wanted to know every intricacy of what she liked and just how she liked it. His path of kisses and gentle nips down her body was deliberate and slow, he savored  how her whimpers became needier as he went. But he did not speed up. He was determined, desired to see her come undone piece by piece, and that was a process he could not rush.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as his lips lingered against one of her scars, knowing they made her insecure about her appearance. 

By the time he reached her lower stomach, her whimpers had turned to pants of need. Charlotte had never experienced foreplay like this before. She did not understand how he was already so attentive, the way he seemed to immediately respond to her body, picking up on cues Charlotte would not have been able to articulate herself. If her body was an instrument, Michael seemed to already be a savant, hitting the right notes with every caress and touch.  It was a slow march and Charlotte was feigning for the main event, feigning for him to fill her. 

Michael finally detached his lips from her body and made quick work of removing her thong. 

“All this for me?” He whispered as he licked his lips as he admired the wetness between her thighs. 

He spread her legs and licked his lips before kissing her inner thighs. Charlotte almost saw God when he added in a gentle bite, sending sparks of pleasure through her. With every passing second, his lips got closer and closer to the treasure between her thighs, a coveted meal Michael had been waiting months to taste. 

However, realizing his intention, Charlotte immediately felt the first wave of anxiety and insecurity hit her, pulling her out of the moment and mind-numbing fog of pleasure. 

“W-what are you doing?” She breathed out, stopping his path toward her core. 

“About to get a taste,” he muttered as he continued kissing her inner thighs. 

Charlotte squirmed for a moment before quietly offering. “Y-You don’t have to do that… if you don’t want to.” 

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. There was literally nothing he wanted more in this world at this moment. “I definitely want to. What’s wrong?” 

“N-Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just never…” She scratched her forehead and kept her eyes trained on the ceiling. It was embarrassing and she did not really want to say it out loud. Similar to her lack of an orgasm, she had also never revealed to anyone that her sexual experience was severely lacking in terms of receiving pleasure. Giving? She was good at it and enjoyed it occasionally. But she had always been the giver and now could not even fathom what receiving felt like. She knew, based on conversations with her girlfriends, that she was missing something spectacular and life changing. But the mental block was there and she found it hard to want it. “Never mind, it’s embarrassing.” 

Michael chuckled. “Aint shit to be embarrassed about with me, baby.” He kissed her softly on the lips. 

“No one’s ever given me…” 

Her words died in her throat but Michael did not need her to finish the sentence. He knew exactly what she was trying to say and shocked was an understatement. He had jerked himself off more times than he would ever admit dreaming of her paradise, what she tasted like, and what sounds she would make when he finally found himself in that promised land. And to think that no one had ever taken the time or care to give her that pleasure angered him more than it should have. He supposed he should be happy he was the first one to give her that experience but he hated that her sex life prior to him had been so lacking.  

“You trust me?” 

She nodded immediately. “Of course.” 

“Ok, then just lay back and relax for me, aight? If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. But I don’t think you’re gonna want me to stop.” He offered her a knowing wink.

Michael was not a man who begrudgingly engaged in foreplay simply because it was required. The build up was his favorite part of the experience, knowing he was giving his partner exactly what they needed and wanted, worshiping her body like the queen she was. He would bask in every moment of proving to her that he wanted to do this task more than anything else.  

“Always so cocky,” she muttered with a smile. 

“And you love that shit,” he shot back as they traded playful jabs. “Now relax… and let me take care of you.” 

Michael’s hands pushed open Charlotte’s legs, her pussy glistening with need. 

Not wanting to waste another second, he leaned in and enveloped her clit into his mouth, sucking gently. 

Charlotte let out a deep moan, a moan so visceral and carnal, she did not even know she could produce such a sound. But she didn't even know her body could feel pleasure like this and he was only just getting started. 

It seemed Michael was right about one thing, she most certainly did not want him to stop. 

Michael poured his whole soul into his ministrations, pulling out every trick he knew to send Charlotte over the edge. He licked and sucked, spelling out all his love and adoration with every caress of his tongue. He savored every moan and groan, every plea for him to go faster. 

“Fuck… B-Bakari… p-please don’t stop.” 

Unnecessary directions, in his opinion, he could do this all night. 

Charlotte’s eyes clenched shut as she grabbed one of the plush pillows on the floor and moaned into it, suddenly remembering that Michael’s parents lived with him. 

“Put the pillow down,” he emerged from her legs to demand. “Room’s soundproof, I promise. I wanna hear you.” 

She immediately tossed it to the side as she rode the waves of pure passion and ecstasy his mouth provided. She was not sure where to concentrate as every pleasure sensor in her body felt like it was on fire. She was overwhelmed and yet, she wanted more. She wanted to drown in it, drown in this feeling that seemed to never end. Every time, she felt as if she must be reaching its peak, he pushed her higher and higher. 

His eyes never left her face as he devoured what would now be classified as his favorite meal. The moment she came, he wanted to see it. Every sound she made only spurred him on as he inched her closer and closer to her mountain top. 

Charlotte felt her world go dark, everything in her snapped as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She felt as if she was in fog, Michael’s voice distant and quiet as she experienced her first orgasm. She felt as if he had just altered the course of her life at that moment. She wondered if this was what rebirth felt like and how she had ever lived without this unfiltered… bliss. She let out a stream of curse words as she rode out her orgasm, Michael offering her praise that she could barely register.

“That’s it, Els. Cum for me.” 

He emerged from between her legs and kissed her, allowing her to taste herself. 

“You taste so good, baby. So sweet,” he offered as he gave her a few moments to settle down. . 

“T-that was…” She struggled to find the words as her already slightly hoarse voice filled the space. 

“You liked that, baby?” He asked, his deep voice sending jolts of pleasure down her body. His finger entered her, immediately curling into her g-spot causing her to gasp. 

This man… was going to be the death of her, she decided. 

“Y-Yes,” she whispered. 

“You want more, Els?” 

She nodded fervently. Michael pushed himself off the floor and quickly stripped down, his manhood standing at attention for the woman he loved. 

Her breath hitched slightly as she took in his length and girth. He settled himself between her legs before starting to push inside her. 

She let out a groan of pain that made him pause, his eyes immediately filling with concern. He started to pull out when she wrapped her legs around his hips to stop him. 

“N-No, don’t. I-it’s just been a couple years. That’s all. I’m good, promise.” 

His forehead fell against hers as he slowly pushed inside her. His eyes did not leave hers, pausing his movements every time he saw an iota of discomfort or pain on her face. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, professed his love and adoration for her, told her how good she felt around him as he waited for her to adjust.

And once she gave him the ok, he started his slow and steady strokes into her. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby” he muttered as the soft slapping sounds of their hips meeting filled his basement. 

His dick curved right into her g-spot, forcing words of adoration and love from the depths of her soul at the end of every stroke. Her soft pants morphed into moans and screams of pleasure as she felt jolts of pleasure throughout her body.  

“F-fuck, I l-love you,” she panted out. “Harder,” she demanded, Michel more than happy to oblige. 

He increased his pace, relentlessly fucking her. She was thankful this portion of the house was soundproof, his basement soaking up the loud symphony of their collective moans. . 

She could feel all of the love and adoration he held for her in every stroke, every affirmation he whispered into her ear as he sent her soul to another plane. All she could do was pant and cry out in pleasure as he promised to love her until his last day. 

Michael’s physical fitness and stamina meant that they were just getting started. Michael and Charlotte moved around his basement, fucking on any and all surfaces that they saw fit. He transitioned between positions like an experienced dancer and pulled countless orgasms from the depth of her soul. 

“Fuck. Just like that baby. Ride this dick,” he moaned. He let out a low growl as she rode him, he was in heaven as he buried his face in her chest, his mouth enveloping her nipple. He was surprised at how much she responded to it, her head falling back in pleasure, her mouth agape. She cried out in pleasure as he gently bit down on the swell of her breasts. He switched between the two, making sure to give each equal attention. 

“You look so sexy riding my dick,” he praised her, causing her to increase her pace. 

She ignored the burn in her thighs as she continued, her thoughts only focused on giving him the same pleasure he gave her. She loved this position. It made her feel emboldened and in charge. And so she decided to enjoy that feeling and switch it up, giving him another view to enjoy. She slid off of him, both of them groaning lightly at the feeling of emptiness while she repositioned herself in reverse cow girl and slid back onto his dick. 

Michael smirked at the satisfied moan that escaped her lips as he filled her again. He grabbed her hips, thrusting into her rapidly as he enjoyed the view of her ass bouncing against his hips. He had let her control the pace before but now? It was his turn again. She yelped lightly as his hand spanked her. It was unexpected but not too rough, clearly to test the waters. She moaned, letting him know that she enjoyed it, the edge of roughness and small jolts of pain mixed in with his gentle touches. 

“You like that, baby?” He asked as he spanked her again, his strong arms lifting her body up and down as if she weighed nothing. 

“Y-Yes! I love it,” She panted out, breathless and exhausted as he fucked her. “I’m g-gonna cum!” 

Her hands pressed against his stomach to hold herself up as she rode the length of her orgasm, her body barely staying up right. When she calmed down, he lifted her off of him and instructed her to get on all fours. 

He positioned himself behind her and massaged her ass for a moment, admiring the perfect view. 

“Arch your back for me, baby. That’s it, good girl.” 

Charlotte could’ve cum right then, hearing him praise her. 

Good girl, she wanted to hear that every day for the rest of her life. 

She groaned as he entered her again, this position allowing him to get even deeper than before. Charlotte’s screams grew to new heights as he fucked her senseless from behind, taking her directive to break her back extremely serious. She was thankful that the strength of his thrusts naturally buried her face in the pillows of their now destroyed fort; she did not think even a soundproof room could contain her at this point. 

In this moment, she realized exactly what Jazz meant: this was life-changing and fun. For the first time, she was not waiting for it to all be over, she was enjoying it, actively meeting his thrusts to increase her pleasure. And when his fingers dug into her hips to hammer into her at his own pace, like a man possessed, she was more than willing to surrender her entire being to him and let him give her exactly what he believed she needed. Because he actually knew, every action was meticulous and measured, attuned to needs she did not even know she had. But he did and she loved him for it. So she surrendered, surrendered to bliss, knew she would forever happily hand over the reins of her pleasure to him because she desperately wanted what he had to give.

“Why you running, baby?” He asked as he fucked her, her body instinctively shying away from the intense pleasure of another orgasm building too fast. 

“I-I… I-it’s too much…” she breathed out, unable to form coherent sentences.

“You want me to stop?” He asked as he continued fucking relentlessly. 

“N-no,” she whimpered, and it was true. Her body felt as if it may die if he stopped but also that another orgasm might kill her. In a split second decision, dying from pleasure seemed like the better way to go. 

“Good girl. You’re taking me so well, love. Cum for me one more time, baby.”

As he felt her pussy snapping around his dick and her screams grew louder, he knew she was close. He reached around and rubbed her clit to give her the extra push she needed. 

Charlotte let out a breathless scream, her vision going black as the most powerful orgasm of her life ran through her. She didn't even get to feel him cum inside her as he finally reached his own peak. 

When she finally opened her eyes again, Michael was sitting watching her intently. 

“Welcome back, almost had me worried for a minute. You ok?” 

All she could do was nod, not understanding how he looked completely unruffled while she felt as if she had done a triathlon. 

He held out his hand to help her up and slide his robe around her. She was surprised to find him already in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. 

“H-How long was I out?” 

He laughed, kissing the top of her head. “Just a couple minutes. Come on, I’ll start a bath upstairs.” 

She groaned as she tried to move her legs. “M-My legs don’t work, babe. N-Not gonna make it upstairs.” 

He laughed and swooped her up into his arms. “Good thing you have me then.” 

Charlotte snuggled into his chest as he carried her to his suite. He made quick work of filling the tub with hot water and helping her into the tub, the smell of eucalyptus, her favorite, filling her nose. 

“This is sweet,” she said, her voice raspy from their activities. “T-thank you.” She settled into the bathtub, her head lulling back as her eyes fell closed. The warm water felt like heaven on her aching muscles. 

“You feel ok? Was afraid I was too rough at the end?” 

She let her head fall lazily in his direction, a content smile on her face. “No, it was great. Though I think you might've thought I was a gymnast at one point, really pushed the limits of my flexibility. And I now feel like I need to go to yoga classes so I don’t need to soak my muscles every time we have sex,” she laughed. “But it was perfect. You’re perfect.”

They shared a sweet kiss before silence fell over them. Charlotte did not stay in the tub long, her desire to be in Michael’s arms again overwhelming. Once she was done, Michael gave her clothes to throw on and they climbed into bed. 

Michael’s head rested on her chest, both of them muttering soft I love you’s before they drifted off to sleep.

***

“Charlie!” 

Charlotte's eyes gravitated toward a familiar voice, finally landing on Chris who had commandeered a corner booth toward the back and was waving at her. 

“How are you??” Her voice took on a sing-songy tone as she hugged him before sitting across from him. “It’s been way too fucking long.” 

“I know, I know. It’s tough. I’m rarely out here and you’re never in NYC anymore.” His voice was filled with teasing accusations as he referenced her disappearing act. “But I’m glad you were able to fit me in.” 

The pair spent over a half hour catching up, Chris sharing gossip from the NYC theater scene that Charlotte was no longer in touch with. She considered Chris MacDonald to be one of her closest friends. He had been her mentor when she was at a school, he was a recent graduate working on his musical and worked with students in his free time. He was easily the most talented songwriter she had ever heard, his first musical becoming a staple on Broadway within months. Every song he touched turned to gold and money. They transcended the usual mentor-mentee relationship quickly, becoming good friends. Chris always vowed to make her his leading lady in one of his shows one day. 

“So what are the next few months looking like for you?” 

“We’re starting press for Creed out here next week. Then the premieres here and press and a premiere in Philly. We have a couple of events and things once it hits theaters and then I should get a break right before Christmas. Thankfully, since it is the first one, the press schedule isn’t insane. But it's still a lot.” 

“So I gotta know, do you miss the stage at all?”

“All the time,” Charlotte moaned, her shoulders collapsing a bit. Chris was the type of person who knew the answer to his question before he asked it. So she knew there was no use in lying. “All. The. Time.” She emphasized. “Movies are great, don’t get me wrong. Can’t say anything too bad about them, after all, my first major film led me to Michael. Who you have to meet by the way. But it’s just not the same. It doesn’t… make my soul happy the way theater did? Money’s better,” Chris immediately nodded in agreement. “But that’s about it. Just doesn’t really fulfill me the same way.” 

“Would you want to go back?” 

An antenna in Charlotte’s mind went up as she heard his tone, his voice taking on the tenor of someone who was dipping a toe in to test the waters. 

“Ummm yea, I mean I’d love to go back. But… the practicalities of it. Just don’t think it is in the cards for me.” She shook her head gently and picked up her coffee. The mug hid the sad smile she had on her face, a realization that her choices meant her dreams weren’t a possibility anymore. “Besides, there isn’t a theater director who knows my name who’d give me another chance.” She simply shrugged. “It’s cool though. My life’s out here now, new relationship’s out here, friends, family. It’s better this way.” 

Chris nodded. “What if you were looking at a writer and producer who wanted you to be in their next show?” 

Charlotte laughed, “Very funny, Chris.” She had heard about his next project through the grapevine, which just completed an off-Broadway run in Massachusetts and was picked up to perform on Broadway in the new year. His musical, The Lighthouse, followed the closing shift of a dive bar during a winter’s storm. It was one of those shows where the entire play takes place in a singular room, following four characters, the owner of the bar and his wife, and the main character, Ashley, and her ex, who is a bartender. Charlotte had only read reviews of it but every review praised Chris for his poignant examination of relationships, human connection, and the innate desire to fight for the things and one you love, even when the fight seems foolish and you are outnumbered.

“I’m being dead serious, Charlie. I know you’re about to start promo for the film so you wouldn’t get that break you’re looking forward to. But it premieres on Broadway in March. We are casting new folks since the off broadway cast is transitioning to other roles. And for the lead, I started with your name but didn’t think you’d want to come back. And after scouring my brain for months and chatting with other writers like Lin and all roads lead back to you. You’re perfect for it. Your voice, your skills… you would knock it out of the park.” 

Charlotte shook her head, “Oh Chris… thank you but I can’t. It’s just not for me anymore.” 

“The stage was made for you, girl. Look, I wasn’t trying to come here and beg you but I will if I have to. I want you, Charlie. Not some random girl no one has ever heard of… You, the woman who made me cry the first time I heard her sing, the woman with perfect pitch, a woman who's been through shit and knows how to bring that pain and vulnerability and channel it into a performance. Look, I could get any recent graduate from Juilliard or Yale and throw them in this show and it would be good. But I don’t want ‘good’. I want excellent and you are excellence. Just give me a year. One year. Not even a year,” he corrected himself as she shook her head. “Six months. Six months and you’ll be nominated for a Tony in 2017, maybe even 2016 depending on when they cut off the season. ” 

At the sound of the coveted award Charlotte had dreamed of her entire life, Charlotte perked up. “How do you know it’s Tony worthy?” 

“Because I wouldn’t have flown across the country to grovel at the feet of one of the greatest actresses and singers I’ve ever seen for anything less than a Tony-winning role. Six months to a year, max. Give me six months of your life, Charlie and I swear - you’re Grammy and Tony nominated at worst… two steps closer to an EGOT at best. Come on, don’t tell me you forgot? This was on the vision board you showed me when you were a plucky, annoying freshman. This is it, this is the opportunity to make that vision board come true.”

Just as Charlotte opened her mouth to rebut him, he stopped her. “Look, I gotta jet to another meeting. But don’t say no just yet, please? I promised the team I would have my Ashley by the time I got back home on Monday. I’ll send you the tracks, the video of the workshop, talk it over… pray on it, and get back to me in a few days. Just promise me you’ll think about it, Charlie. Please?”

Charlotte nodded weakly. “Fine… I’ll think about it.” 

She knew logically there was nothing to think about. The mere idea went beyond playing with fire, it was playing with a raging inferno to move back there. For all she knew, Shaun was a mere powder keg waiting for the right spark to explode and she would be handing it to him on a silver platter. However, her soul and her ambition, well those parts of her were thinking… and they were thinking hard.

She said her goodbyes to Chris and paid for her coffee. And before she could even make it outside to her car, she heard the ding of several emails, all from Chris with the music tracks. She slid into her car and hooked it up as she drove to Michael’s. Since they broke through the physical intimacy barrier, she essentially lived at his place. After spending almost every night there, he cleared out a drawer and gave her space in his closet. Now she rarely went to her own spot. 

Since his house was a bit farther out, she made it through Act 1 of the show before she pulled into his driveway. However, she did not immediately turn it off to get out of the car. She was so enthralled that she just sat there in his driveway with her eyes closed, falling deeper in love with the music with every passing chord. 

“That fucking bastard,” she muttered to herself as her head thudded back against the seat. “The great Chris MacDonald strikes again.” 

It was always a running joke among the Broadway community that no one ever said no to Chris. If he wanted you, he would always find a way to convince you to work for him. Whether it was the strength of the piece itself or his persuasive abilities, no was not a word he heard. 

And she hated that it was working on her. This was award worthy. It was more than that, it was a game changer. It would take more than a year to pick up steam but when it did, it would become a household name. She could feel it in her bones. And the main character, Ashley, was perfect for her. Her ballad, which closed out Act I, was giving Defying Gravity levels of emotion. It was climatic and she could just picture herself singing it on stage. And while the show was filled with drama and emotion, it struck the perfect balance of being funny and relatable. It was the type of show you left and talked about for hours with your friends, examining each character and their decisions with a fine tooth comb.

She sat in her car and typed out notes on her phone as she worked her way through Act II, noting things she picked up on and wanted to discuss further with Chris. She did not even realize how long she sat out there until she heard a knock on her car window. 

“Shit!” She jumped almost clean out of her skin as she turned to find Michael staring at her with a quizzical look on his face. She took a deep breath before opening the door. “You scared me.” 

“My bad. I saw you pull up 30 minutes ago. Wanted to make sure you were good. You on the phone or somethin’?” 

“30 minutes?? Sorry, baby. I was just listening to these songs Chris sent me.” 

She pulled herself and her bag out of the car and followed Michael into the house. The house smelled delicious, Michael immediately returning to the oven to check on his Bolognese sauce.  

“How was coffee?” 

“Um… intriguing, that’s for sure.” Charlotte threw her bag down on one of the bar stools and immediately grabbed the loaf of bread and other materials that were sitting out to help Michael finish dinner. 

“Ok, elaborate.” 

Charlotte sighed. “Well, it wasn’t a friendly catch up like I thought. He has a role for me… in his new show.” 

“Ok… and?” 

“It’s really fuckin’ good, Bakari. Like game changing good. Like household name good. He said he just wanted six months out of me, which is more than enough to be nominated this year or next.” 

Michael nodded. “Ok… I’m hearing all the good things… sounds like good shit. But you’re hesitating. What’s stopping you?” 

She turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “Well first, my life is here with you. Not in New York. We’ve only been dating for three months. I don’t want to lose what we have.” Michael glanced at her, waiting for her to say more. “A-and I left New York in such a weird way. I don’t even know how people feel about me now. A-and 8 shows a week??” She ranted, taking her frustration out on the helpless loaf of Italian bread in front of her. “Don’t even know if I can physically do that shit anymore. I’m not that good of a dancer… I mean when would we have time to see each other if I’m doing 8 shows a week? I could kiss my current career goodbye. I feel like I started down this road, don’t know if I should backtrack?”

Michael turned her away from the cutting board and took the knife out of her hands. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her closer and closer to him. 

“What’s really wrong, Els? Cause it ain’t any of the dumb shit you just mentioned.” 

Charlotte immediately felt offended, her body attempting and failing to twist out of his firm but still gentle grip. “Excuse me?? Those are legit concerns, thank you very much.” 

“No they aren’t. You’re never gonna lose me cause you’re pursuing a dream. New York is a plane ride away, I’ll come to you when I’m not filming. Long distance relationships work and thrive every day, Els.” He started to list off, dismissing her concerns one by one. “You left to save your life. Fuck anyone who doesn’t understand that or sympathize with that shit. Besides, who even gives a fuck what they think? You got Chris in your corner and more people than you think, that’s enough. You can dance just fine. And you run like 6 miles every single day so physically, you can do anything including sing and dance for 2 hrs 8 times a week. And it’s not backtracking. You started in the theater, took a break and are going back. People do that shit literally all the time. I think you’re scared. And if you want to say no for all those practical reasons to Chris, fine. But at least be honest with me. Why are you really hesitating?” 

She picked at her nails, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. She hated that she had to consider him, this dark cloud that hung over her head and still indirectly affected her decisions. She hated that he still had this much power 

“I left New York for a reason, Bakari. A-and that reason is still walking and talking and… I don’t think I can ignore that just because Chris dangles a shiny Tony in front of my face.” 

“Do you really think he’d try something?” 

“I… I dunno. But I also don’t know if I want to test that theory. I gave it all up then because I couldn’t stay alive and keep it. I tried that and it didn’t work. All I got was a break in and three days in the ER. How’s this time gonna be any different? Seems dumb to walk right back into the lion’s den.” 

“Are you walking back into the lion’s den or following your dreams? Was he a Broadway enthusiast or somethin?” 

Charlotte let out a humorless laugh. “Hell no. He hated musicals… and joy… and laughter… and me,” she added under her breath with a humorless chuckle. “What does it matter?” 

“It matters because who's to say he will even know you’re there? Even in the most popular shows, the everyday person doesn’t follow news about it. And this is a new show, not like that rap one everyone I know keeps going to see about the dead white people?”

“Hamilton?” Her judgment of his lack of theater knowledge showed in her laughter.. “‘That musical with the dead white people’” she chuckled. “It’s the hottest ticket of the year, babe.” 

“See,” he emphasized, ignoring the tone of shade in her voice. “I’m an actor and still don’t know this shit.”

“Bakari… be serious, please.” 

“I am!” He laughed. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is even the most popular shows, the non-broadway goer doesn’t know whose in them. You’re a rising star and the benefit of a rising star is that you can still keep a low profile when you want. For all that nigga knows, you’re still in LA. Talk to Chris about promo and maybe keeping a lower profile for the first couple months and all that and secure your dream, babe.”

“But I already proved I can’t have both, Bakari,” she repeated. 

He shook his head. “No, you couldn’t have both then. It’s been a couple years, you’re different. And who knows, that nigga could’ve moved to another state or be in a new relationship or anything. A lot can change in two years, right?” 

She scratched her head. The things Michael said made total sense but there was still this wall standing in her way. 

“Els, baby. Look at me.” His finger lifted her chin to look him in the eye. “I think you should do it. It’s six months until you come back here. Ever since I’ve known you, being the lead of a show has been your dream. And you miss it. And now someone is handing you the opportunity on a silver platter. Why miss it a second time? And if it makes you feel safer, I’ll move with you.” 

Charlotte shook her head. “Baby, I can’t ask you to move across the country for me. Your family, your friends… your life is here.” 

He shrugged. “And in six months, my life will still be here. My future is wherever you are. And I told you a couple weeks ago that I’d do whatever you needed to make you feel safe.” 

“Yes, with you. Not out in the world. I can’t ask you to upend your entire life for me. We haven’t been together that long.” 

“Semantics. I told you I’d do whatever you needed. This counts in my book. Don’t think about the length of time we’ve been together or where it is or any of that shit. Would it help and make you feel more comfortable if I went with you? At least for a couple months?” 

Charlotte studied him for a moment, realizing he was truly being sincere. She found it hard to ask for such a thing but she could not deny that it would help her. Even just knowing that she could come home to someone each night and be safe in their arms felt like it would change everything. 

“Y-Yea, it would help a lot. But you really don’t have to, babe.” 

“Ok then it’s settled. If you take it, I’ll go with you. I know we’re jumping ahead and skipping some steps but I’m in if you are.” 

“You don’t want to think about it?” 

He shrugged as he moved to put the garlic bread in the oven. “What’s there to think about? It’s like moving for a role. It doesn’t really change much. When would you have to be there?” 

“Top of January, the show is supposed to premiere on March 1.”

He nodded. “Ok so if you decide to do it, we can move right after Christmas to make sure you’re there in time.” 

Charlotte chuckled.  “Yea while you’re planning our move, I actually need to decide whether to do it.” 

Michael leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “I’m removing obstacles so you can make the best decision for you. Not for me or because of that nigga. For you. If you want this, we’ll do whatever we gotta do to make sure you’re safe while you do it, ok?” 

Her arms went around his shoulders, their bodies flush against each other. “How’d I get so lucky to find you?” 

“I’m the lucky one, honeybee.” 

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, “Honeybee? That’s a new one. Where’d that come from?” 

“Cause you taste sweet, like honey.” 

“‘I taste sweet, what do- ohhhhh,” the memory of him saying that during the first time he gave her head came back to her mind causing her to laugh a bit. “Thought I’d try it out. It has a cute ring to it. You don’t like it?”

“I like any nickname you give me, love. But… let’s make this the only one inspired by our sex life, ok?”

“Deal.” 

The pair ate dinner before retreating to his bedroom. They did not talk about Chris’s offer again until they were settled in bed, Charlotte laying on Michael’s chest. 

“I think… I think I want to do it. You’re right, it’s my dream and I might not get another shot like this again,” she offered in the quiet and darkness. She knew he was not asleep yet. 

Michael did not even take a beat before he responded, “I guess we’re moving to New York then.” 

Charlotte sat up, leaning on his chest. “You knew I was gonna take it the whole evening didn’t you?” 

He shrugged, before shifting so she was laying back down. He placed a kiss on the top of her forehead and merely smiled. “Yea… when are you gonna learn? I’m always right, baby,” he joked. "You gonna call Chris?

She bit down the joke that bubbled to the surface and merely settled back into his arms with a smile. 

“Yes you are, baby. And in the morning, it's after midnight."

"Yea and you said he flew all the way out here for you. That man is probably waiting by the phone for you. Call him, if he's asleep, you can try again in the morning. Besides, knowing you, you'll find some way to talk yourself out of it by morning." He reached over to her side and grabbed her phone. "Call him, babe."

"Touché." She slid out of his bed and paced, one hand fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt she had on while her feet dragged across his soft plush carpet.

She waited for a few moments with bated breath until she heard his voice fill her ears.

"Hey, Chris! Sorry if this is too late to call? Hope I didn't wake you."

"Oh no, I was just up working and praying your name would cross my phone sometime before the night was over. Please tell me you called me this late with bad news."

Charlotte chuckled and glanced at Michael who gave her an encouraging smile and thumbs up.

"No, no. Just calling to tell you that you can tell the team you found your new Ashley."

She had to hold the phone away from her ear as his screams of delight threatened to bust her ear drums.

"God, I fucking love you, Charlotte Bennett. I could literally kiss you."

"I think my boyfriend would have something to say about that," she chuckled. "But yea I'm in."

"Amazing. I'll send over details to you and your team tomorrow and we can talk more then. Seriously, Charlie, you won't regret it. I promise."

"I know, thank you, Chris. Seriously. Ok, talk tomorrow. Bye."

She hung up the phone and turned to Michael, the realization hitting her.

"I'm gonna be leading a show on Broadway." She ran back to the bed and jumped on it, her previous exhaustion long forgotten as her excitement took over.

Michael enveloped her in a tight hug before they both settled back into bed.

"This is gonna be good, Els. I can feel it."

She placed a quick kiss on his bare chest. "I feel it too. Thank you. I wouldn't feel comfortable doing this without you."

"I gotchu, Els. Always."

Tags: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings

A/N: As always, thanks for reading! We finally got some smut (woohoo). Tbh smut is like really hard for me to write lol so I hope y'all liked it? I really wanted it to be intimate and showcase how close they've gotten in a short time. They could be sexy and honest and vulnerable and playful with each other and it not ruin the moment, it only enhances it for them. Next chapter, we'll get some fluff with their first public outing as a couple and press tour cuteness (think Tom/Zendaya and Corey/India from Queen Charlotte level cuteness). I'm gonna try to get a one-shot out this week too before I'm off on vacation. We'll see if I can actually get it done :)

Leave a comment on what you thought of the chapter and let me know if you want to be tagged!

[fairuzfan]

By the way, you may have heard this, but shaun king's ig account got suspended.

This is probably your dream come true, but this still means palestinian posts disappearing from social media by the whims of meta. Also this happened after when mohamed al-kurd's twitter got banned. And after motaz said his ig got shadowbanned to hell and high waters... Is meta now progressing on the purge? What do we do?

I mean it's not my dream come true haha but I do hope people stop listening to him at least as an authority since he's a grifter who steals money.

The issue is for twitter, it's a separate company and the algorithm works differently than FB and IG. For Instagram, I know that saving/bookmarking posts will help, and sending posts that you think are important to people. I actually have always found the main feed on instagram annoying and just go to people's individual accounts to see if they updated so I would recommend doing that consistently.

For example, you could go to Bisan's account, then Anat International, then Motaz, then whoever else you want to check in on and like+share their posts.

For FB, I honestly don't know how to counter it that much. I remember in 2021, during Sheikh Jarrah and the May war on Gaza, I tried to post something with just the word "Palestine" and it straight up deleted the post right away. So like, intentional deletion based on a word. I haven't been on FB much since then so I don't know what it's like right now but it sounds like not much has changed.

I heard of 7amleh, which documents censorship of Palestinian speech online. You might wanna check them out, thought they're fairly new so I'm not sure what it is they do exactly.

[nightmareentertainment]

talking to a friend about grief and mla0 and the act of cutting your hair as a desperate act of control. the only thing you can control in a world that wants to kick you down is yourself, and shaun andersen was never really good with grief, never really in control of any situation, just a pawn to be pushed around on the chess board.

Grieving is so hard. Taking care of yourself afterwards is hard. Your hair is long and greasy and it sticks to your neck and face and it's gross and you need to wash it and take care of it but it all feels like too much. Every time warm water touches your hands you just feel unclean. You can still feel Stormy's blood. You see her in everything. Micheal is nervous about how much time you've spent in that bathroom, clutching the sink, waiting to do something that never gets done, and one day your head is too heavy and you look a little too unhealthy and you make the choice to just get rid of it. Erase the part of yourself you love, that Stormy loved, take control back in some tiny, awful way, and you see all of the hair in the sink, the years of memory and growing and slowly forming happiness all gone, gone, and you hate yourself.

But it's the only thing you can think to do. And it's all you can control right now- and it makes it easier to take the next step. To quit your job and get on the road. To spend the next ten months of your life wandering and searching and hoping something worth while will happen to give you solace. cutting your hair was just the first step.

[lacontroller1991]

Fluff/WhumpTOBER Day 3: Nick Valentine x GN!Sole Survivor

Day 3: Favorite Scene/Set Up For Failure Masterlist Warnings: 18+, Language, Suicide/Homicide, Blood Word Count: 1.2k

“You want me to do what?” Father, Shaun, stares back at you with your eyes, his face set in resolve.

“You heard me. I need you to wipe out your friends. Starting with the Railroad. They have caused us too much trouble, keeping us from finding what is rightfully ours. They are a threat to us. You know this.” His words pierce through you as you freeze in your tracks. You know he’s your son, but do you really have the means of wiping out your friends, the very people who helped you find him?

“Shaun, you know I can’t do that,” you comment softly, sitting down next to the head of the Institute. “Surely there is another way, one that doesn’t involve the death of people I care about.”

He shakes his head, spurring on a coughing fit, blood spewing into a white napkin. “I am dying. Are you really going to let everything that I’ve built, for you, go to waste?”

You know he’s lying. You know that even though he is biologically your son, he is not your son. You’d like to believe that despite never raising him as your own that he wouldn’t be capable of mass genocide. You’d like to believe that he would take your compassion and his father’s love for life. But here he sits, telling you to do the exact opposite. And here you sit, actually contemplating it.

“You know the Railroad is only in it for themselves. Despite them wishing to liberate synths and allowing them to have self freedom, you know it’s all about revenge for them. And the Minuteman. They pose a threat to our existence. They need to be taken care of.”

Tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth, you play with your fingers, wishing you would’ve just stayed frozen. This is an impossible choice. Your blood or your friends who had become your family. “What about Valentine?” Shaun takes your hands in his, his are cold and frail while yours are warm and youthful.

“You know what needs to be done.”

—————

Blood. Blood surrounds you as you collapse to your knees, having taken out the Minuteman, all in one place. The people who sought to make the Commonwealth a better place. Looking down at your hands, you resist the urge to vomit at the sight of blood soaked skin. “What have I done?” Your eyes look around before spotting Preston, lying on the ground. If you didn’t know otherwise, you would’ve assumed that he was sleeping. Crawling over to his body, you wipe the blood off of his face, drops of water removing dirt and grime. “I’m so, so sorry.” Leaning down, you press a kiss to his foreheads, wishing it didn’t have to be this way.

“(Y/N)?” His voice causes you to look up from where you kneel, eyes immediately spotting the old synth as your heart breaks. You don’t have what it takes to tell him that you killed everyone, but you have a feeling that he already knows. “What the hell happened here?” His hand reaches for his gun as you sniffle, falling onto your butt as your eyes look over the massacre. 

“I killed them.” You can hear the gears whirring in his head before he crouches down next to you. His poker face gave Deacon a run for his money. 

“Now why would you go and do that for?” His voice is flat, no judgment but also no friendliness. It reminds you that he too, is a synth, made from your flesh and blood.

“Father told me to do it. Told me that they’re a threat to the Institute.” The words tumble out of your mouth, void of emotion. Shock setting in. 

Nick sighs, shaking his head, trying to come up with some logical explanation and finding none. “I warned you what would happen if you decided to help him out. Now look at where that got you.”

“I’m sorry, Nick, he’s my son. My only son.” 

Nick draws his lips in a tight line, standing to his full height. “I know.”

“He wants me to kill the Railroad, kill Deacon. He wants me to kill you. I can’t. I can’t do this. Nick, please, help me.” You turn to him, grabbing onto his pant leg, tears running down your face as his yellow eyes peer down at you. 

“There’s nothing I can do to help. You made sure of that yourself.” Shaking your head, you mess with the latches on your pipboy, taking it off. 

“Get this to Deacon, to Danse, anybody. Get it to them, bring down the Institute.” Tears flow freely down your face as you hand the synth the piece of technology. “It has all the information on how to get inside and what needs to be done to insure the destruction of that horrible place.”

Nick takes the pipboy into his other hand, looking down at you with curiosity, “Just what are you going to do? Kill more people?” Your eyes move from his and land on the ground, eyeing a gun within grabbing distance. He catches on. “You are not going to kill yourself.”

“What other choice do I have? I can’t ask you to kill me. I can’t ask Deacon to kill me, or Mac, or Danse, or Hancock. You know they wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Nick knows that you’re telling the truth. Deacon would be too distraught with the betrayal to be able to kill you. Mac and Hancock are too loyal, and well, Danse owes you his life. And Nick? Nick loves you. “I’ll do it.”

Your eyes light up with gratitude but it doesn’t reach your face. “Nick. I can’t let you.”

“Doll, I would rather have me do it than you do it,” he pockets the pipboy, extending his metal exposed hand out to you, allowing you to take it. Hoisting you to a standing position, he looks you over one last time with a sad smile on his face. “I loved you, you know.”

“Oh Nick.” You launch yourself into his arms, clinging onto him like your life depended on it, knowing how this moment is going to end. One of his arms wrapping around you, synthetic lips pressing a kiss to your temple as his other hand pulls back the hammer on his gun. “I love you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” He pulls the trigger and a loud crack echoes in his auditory processors as you go limp in his grasp. With a sigh, he sweeps your body up into his arms and carries you to the yard behind your house, kneeling down on the ground next to your spouse’s grave. Carefully, he lays your body on the ground before standing up and dusting the dirt off of his knees, the pipboy burning holes in his coat pocket. “Goodbye, (Y/N). I’ll make sure to end it.” He lowers his head in a bow before walking away from the grave, wishing he could cry.

[daubigny-stan]

If you used to be a fan of HP, please read Witch Hat Atelier

I am so serious. I think everyone who's read WHA will tell you this, it is a more refined and perfected flavor of HP's lore and worldbuilding. Moreover, the mangaka of WHA isn't a complete bigot unlike someone else who wrote a witch based story. It's so good even, that I think it's an insult that I'm comparing the two, however HP is the most familiar reference I have and in this post I'll be comparing and breaking the down.

HP feels like a 'chosen one' story whose world was haphazardly built around it, meanwhile WHA's story feels like one that is naturally developed from its well executed worldbuilding

Ok, this is not an elegant title, so allow me to explain. The HP method of worldbuilding which puts the ideas first and makes the world bend to the ideas is apparent in two concepts: how Harry is the chosen one and the separation of wizards and non-wizarding folk.

How is Harry positioned by the writer to be the chosen one? Because of the prophecy! And that's marked with him surviving the death curse which is an impossible thing to do lore-wise, so here's the complicated bad magic which explains why Harry did the impossible thing! See, it's like they thought of a cool design for a boat, but the boat wasn't able to float on water, so they just kept adding patches to the plot holes. And this isn't necessarily a bad thing in my opinion, the horcruxes were an interesting bit to the lore and does bring up the idea "oh killing someone splits the soul in half" which is a fine metaphor, I guess. But it feels like the world revolves around Harry and Voldemort rather than Harry and Voldemort living in it.

Meanwhile, Witch Hat Atelier? Airtight. Coco doesn't feel like a chosen one for the sake of being the protagonist. The ongoing battle after against the current magic policy of secrecy and limitation and the goals of exposing magic and unleashing its potential has existed long before Coco was around. Coco feels like just one of the Brimhats' many attempts to expose the witches' secrets to the Unlearned. At the moment we don't know if Coco was deliberately chosen because she has some special property or not, but even if she doesn't it just feels more special. Coco's protaganism is not defined by being special or powerful, she is birthed from the current circumstances and worldbuilding.

And Shirahama sensei's explanation for the separation of witches and the Unlearned don't feel arbitrary and contribute to the plot. Witches aren't special, they are just this group of people that were deemed worthy of learning magic. And magic is still shown to non-magic folk, it is not void from their world. This feels like the mangaka actually took from how real-world politics, it doesn't matter who is at the top actually, there is just an inherent injustice from the fact that some people can wield magic and some cannot. And this message is echoed with almost every story arc thus far. Coustas as a character is an incredibly example of how magic is also analogous for privilege or power. He is underprivileged for both being Unlearned and coming from the slums.

On the other hand, HP's idea of magical folk feeds back into how there are ideas for people first and then the world revolves around it poorly. This is not a novel complaint about HP but if magical babies are born randomly and can even be born to non wizard folk... how have they been concealed all this time? Like, I get it, magic and achieve amazing things including concealment and memory erasure but there is not concrete argument to keep concealing. The story and characters accept that rule without questioning it which really paints them as shallow. And also since magic is something you are born with, the idea that some people are born special and some are not? Really rubs you the wrong way.

HP's concept of morality is just... bleugh

A lot of the points I make here and in the previous point I think I'm echoing from Shaun's video on Harry Potter which you should go watch. The point I'm taking here is how arbitrarily good and evil is decided in the HP world, if you are the snake house or the snake KKK, you are evil. I didn't know you could strawman people in prose but there you go. Meanwhile, in WHA there is not necessarily an evil. People have different goals and those goals contradict with each other. That is the definition of conflict in this manga. It is also possible that characters have the same values but different goals so it makes for so many interesting foils.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters, I feel like their status as a bad guy with bad values is poorly rooted in the world. The wizards already have this pure world void of non-wizards and non-human wizards and they keep their magic to themselves, they're already plenty fascist against non-wizard folk. The Death Eaters don't really have a reason for existing. They feel evil for the sake of having a bad guy with fascist aesthetics, not because they are the consequence of the rules of the world or because they have goals that make sense. They don't really need to rid the world of non-magic folk, they already have a world to themselves. They don't need to rule the entire earth for its resources, they're already not sharing magic. They don't need nuclear weapons or oil or whatever. And it's not like the good guys are going against magic separatism either. They're just protecting the status quo and maybe asking "could we be a bit nicer to magic kids born out of non-magic families pwease?"

Meanwhile, the Brimhats, the antagonists of the WHA world, they make so much sense both the readers and the main characters are in this constant state of questioning who is right or wrong. Heck Coco, the main character, is the embodiment of the story's moral conflict. We are first introduced to Brimhats who are more hungry for power or unlimited magic that they will harm children so we accept with little hesitation that they will be the bad guys, but then we are introduced to Ininia. Ininia is also a little girl, much like the main gang, with the same values. Magic brings people happiness and can heal. Forbidden magic can do that much better so why not use it? And so far, even the protagonists don't have the answer! We are only shown the consequences of using forbidden magic. But throughout the story we are also shown the flaws of the current system.

There's so much more I could say, like about how WHA's characters are so well written, to the ACTUAL representation of gay people, disabled people, and class in the manga; but those are the two main points of why the story of WHA is so much better. Shirahama sensei does not treat her readers like dumb idiots. She trusts us to be intelligent and shows us scenarios that will leave us thinking for hours. GO READ WITCH HAT ATELIER