#and I think the solution is great and fitting

[lesmurples]

I’ve been thinking about how the Deltarune prophecy might have ended, and how the more obvious potential tragic endings - one or more of the main cast being sacrificed, the town dying, etc. - don’t really feel like they fit the story, at least not to me. What did feel like a potential, fitting ending with everything that’s happened so far is the Dark World being destroyed to save the Light World.

Throughout the story, there’s been a theme of excess and imbalance between what is “real” and - as is revealed in Ch. 3 - “illusion.” Ralsei continuously describes the Dark World as a form of unreality, “real” objects being transformed into something beyond their true nature by the dark, gaining new form and agency through the power of Determination. Determination seems to be a type of creative will that only Lightners can implement, and it partly explains why Ralsei sees the Dark World as inherently subservient to the Light. They exist at the Light World’s pleasure, and they will be discarded once it is time for their creators to return to the world of the Real.

There’s an obvious parallel to be drawn here between the Dark World and fantasy, and in particular escaping into stories, video games, and nostalgia to avoid the problems of your normal life. We can see this tendency very strongly with Susie and Kris, both of whom seem to be troubled kids who have found self-confidence and friendship through their shared experience in the Dark World. Whatever else is going on with Kris, they seem to genuinely care about their newfound friends - they will defend and comfort Ralsei and Susie beyond the input from the player, and they don’t want to take cruel actions against their friends.

The threat of more dark fountains being created can be tied to a threat of excessive fantasy, the escapist urge to avoid one’s problems to the point of obscuring the demands of reality, leaving one’s conditions in the material world to fester. The Dark World overwhelming the Light would destroy it, unleashing unconscious forces of destruction and entropy upon the world.

We don’t know what would happen to the Light World if the Dark World ceased to exist. I’d imagine it would likely suffer as well, but unlike the Dark World, the Light World seems to persist without true acknowledgement of its other half. The Dark World on the other hand is created by and reliant upon the Lightners for its existence. It is a fantasy created by the residents of the Real.

If we consider it metaphorically, the Dark World is akin to artwork and artistic expression created through individual and cultural imagination. If lost, it would deal a great blow, but the Light World would probably survive it - I don’t think they’d lose the capacity to imagine, but rather access to the end product of that imagination. If the Dark World were to overwhelm the Light, on the other hand, the Darkners might lose the creative force that allows them to exist in the first place. I’m not sure what it would mean for them.

So I think it would make sense for an end to the Dark World altogether to be offered as a solution. If Lightners continue trying to overwhelm their world with darkness - whether it be the Knight, Kris, or any other Lightner further down the road, for whatever purpose - the only way to truly stop them might be to cut them off from the source.

Susie’s instant reaction of denial and anger at the prophecy would make sense in this case - she loves the Dark World. It’s been life-changing for her, giving her friendship, confidence, and a sense of communal responsibility. Ralsei’s whole deal would also make a lot of sense, if he knows that his existence is only temporary and fully dependent on the will of Lightners. We don’t know much about what’s happening with Kris yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were working with the Knight partly because they don’t want to lose the Dark World. This would assume they know the end of the prophecy - and who knows what this kid knows really - but even if they don’t, Kris seems invested in helping the Knight start the Roaring. I’m assuming Kris wants to escape the trappings of their life in the Light World altogether, representing the urge to descend fully into fantasy in order to avoid one’s life. I cannot begin to guess how that would tie in with the player, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

All that being said, I don’t know how this story will actually end, whatever the prophecy ends up being. Ending the Dark World altogether seems a bit extreme when you consider what the Dark World represents - I don’t think this story will conclude with Toby essentially telling us that we need to put aside games and fantasy for good in order to deal with the real world. At the same time though, I could see this ending with Kris and Susie moving on from the Dark World eventually. Stories can have life-changing impacts on us and lead to life-long friendships, but we can’t escape into them permanently. Eventually, we outgrow them, like Ralsei said.

It’s how Undertale’s Pacifist route ends - Flowey asks you to move on, to leave the story be, although here it’s for the sake of those within the story. If Susie and Kris move on from the Dark World, it will be for their own benefit, returning back to their lives once they’re ready. But stories, games, art, and fantasy never truly fade, even if you leave it behind for a while. It’s always there if you wish to return to it, even if only in your own head.

I don’t know what ending Toby has in store for us, but I’m looking forward to it - I have a lot of trust in Toby as a storyteller at this point. I can already sense how much Deltarune will occupy that escapist urge in my brain as the real world gets worse, ironically enough. We’ll see how the story ends in a few years, and in the meantime there’s a lot of work to do in the world of the Real. I’m scared to think about what the world will look like when Deltarune is finished, but I’m glad we’ll have this story to comfort us, however it ends.

[lillyjen]

As with many things, an element of it is capitalism; it's hardder to sell things to people who are able to imagine their own way around whatever problem you claim your product is THE solution to.

Some of it goes back a long way, & is a practical concern: a lot of older stories have protagonists who are dreamers; imaginative, but absent-minded when it comes to everyday tasks. Thjs makes them great story protagonists, but a terrible fit for their everyday lives. That's because a lot of everyday tasks require doing things in a simple, unimaginative manner, over & over again. Having an imagination is a great way to distract yourself from the tedium of washing up, for instance, it's not a great way to ensure you focus on actually getting the plates clean, don't break anything, don't accidentally stab or cut yourself, etc. It's also not great if your imagination causes you to think & do things like "I wonder what would happen if I swapped soap with candle wax" a lot. A lot of jobs also require this kind of repetitive focus.

Of course, there's still a time & place for imagination: there are lots of old stories with imaginative protagonists because people used their imaginations to tell those stories, & the stories themselves demonstrate that whilst in the wrong time & place, too much imagination can be a hindrance, in the right context it's great. But sometimes we forget that the issue isn't imagination - or whatever else we have an issue with an excess of - but where & when & how much it is used, & instead of trying to teach critical thinking re: what, when, where, & how (& if), should I apply this skill, we try to blanket-supress it instead.

Authorities also generally don't like imagination, because it leads their subordinates to imagine ways their lives could be better/different & ask questions about fairness, pay levels, freedom, safety, etc.

There's probably a ton of other reasons, too, but I think "imagination isn't always compatible with everyday practicality" & "imagination leads to people asking questions, & people at the top of the social hierarchy don't like that" covers most of it.

So one thing that occurs to me is that: Kids engage in a lot of imaginative play (or at least they used to before iPads were a thing, I assume that they still do). But then, as you get older...most people basically kind of stop engaging their imagination on a regular basis. Like, it's strongly encouraged in Nursery and Kindergarten, it is encouraged to diminishing degrees as you proceed up the grades of elementary school, and by the time you reach middle school (or at least this was my experience), it's pretty much discouraged outside of art class or the odd creative writing unit in English. And even in creative writing, it's generally restrained; a lot of teachers tend to pooh-pooh anything that's not mimetic fiction. And, in my experience at least, they filled up your off hours with so much homework and studying that you didn't have a chance to do it on your own either. And then, by the time that you're an adult, you just don't really do it anymore unless you work in a very narrow range of professions or if you have a creative hobby.

And it's just like...why should that be? Imagination is a pretty fundamental function of humanity. I would argue that it's the basis of empathy and invention. So why do we disparage it? Why do we decide that imagination is childish and cringe?

[applejuiz]

Honestly I think that the village in Issylra arc only weakened the thematic content of the god story bc it’s really not about what the people who believe in the gods do in their name. Like this story really doesn’t work if you think it’s talking about our world’s conception of religion. It’s not about faith, it’s about power.

The gods are real and powerful in Exandria. The threat of them is not cultural but existential. It doesn’t come up often but Exandria is a post apocalyptic setting, just 800 years on. And that apocalypse was the gods fault (with a slight assist from the Ring of Brass, thanks guys).

While they are sympathetic in Downfall, they’re also incredibly hypocritical, cowardly, and as the whole mechanic of that last battle is constructed to showcase, too powerful. For all of Aeor’s flaws, why should the gods be allowed to indiscriminately lay destruction down on mortals as collateral damage, but an attempt to gain any leverage is calls to level an entire city? Why do Reilorans gets trapped on a piece of orbiting rock only dreaming about the real world bc the gods were afraid of some big monster and threw a whole population into the sky?

I don’t hate the gods of Exandria. I think their motivations are understandable. I think none of this justifies Ludinus’s actions. I love moments in previous campaigns with the Everlight and the Wildmother. I find the Matron so compelling as a character. The Divine Gate was a good system, but as we’re seeing right now, they will drop it the second they feel threatened, even knowing they could cause a second Calamity. Nothing is allowed to pose an existential threat to them. They are allowed to destroy anything to protect themselves.

That’s really the problem. When the gods are afraid, they are powered by that fear, they will let that fear destroy any amount of mortals or other creatures, who are not given any recourse, who are not allowed to defend themselves in the same way. Mortals must accept their own death at the hands of those more powerful than them, but the gods refuse to.

Until now. It took a while to get to this point of clarity but I do think Bell’s Hells solution is perfect because it tells the gods that they are not allowed to behave this way. It doesn’t demand they die out of twisted revenge. It simply says, you have to face this, you cannot cling to being all-powerful forever at the cost of everyone and everything else. It says you are actually like us, process that how you will.

And I think it’s perfect that this decision is being assisted by the Matron. Who better to guide her siblings through acceptance of mortality that her, the goddess of death, the former mortal.

[mikkeneko]

Consider: Cang Qiong High School Host Club.

.....Huh.

Hmmmm.

[roserocksrapidly]

Not to complain about tri stamp on main, genuinely NOT trying to bash it, but I really don't like how they handled Vash and Knives relationship :/ . And it's not just bc it's different from the source material. Specifically rn thinking about the arm situation.

Rambling thoughts on why below:

On the surface, it's the same- there's a confrontation between the brothers and it ends with Knives cutting off Vash's arm. But like the implications are so different 😭. In stamp, they argue bc Knives just "protected" Vash by killing some humans, Vash's powers start to go haywire in a fit of protective rage, and Knives takes Vash's arm to keep him from black holing everything. But the manga situation frames it in a much more interesting way to me. They're arguing bc Knives just killed humans to "save" Vash again, BUT

1) these humans did actually hurt Vash. It's not all that unreasonable to retaliate when the evidence of their cruelty is right there in a young Vash chained to a pole in the town square. But Vash would never retaliate bc of his pacifism and the fact that he understands why they have done something cruel. He would get pissed at Knives killing any humans of course, but the pre-established relationship Vash has with these people in particular gives the reader a different picture of WHY Vash chooses pacifism. He's not just "uwu all humans are good", he knows intimately that they can be cruel but he believes strongly in their ability to change-- they're cruel bc they were backed into a corner, that means there's another path forward for them, the cruelty is not inevitable, they all have blank tickets. Meanwhile in stamp, those random scientists were not cruel to Vash. Yeah, scientists as a whole shunned him and spoke bad about him at first, but Vash has a well-established, friendly working relationship by that point. Taking away the immediacy of the cruelty frames Knives as the more mature one who sees past the humans' front to see how they're taking advantage of Vash and it frames Vash as the naive one who must learn why he should protect people instead of turning a blind eye to their cruelty. And like I get why Orange probably did this-- it's a more conventional story beat and gives room to show Vash's development from a naive kid to the wiser hero. But idk I just think this is boring compared to trimax's approach where our expectations for Vash to be the naive hero (like wolfwood's expectations) are slowly chipped away as we learn that Vash is actually a deeply thoughtful, mature person. Much more mature compared to Knives, whose philosophy of killing everything that can hurt you is shown to be deeply childish and naive.

Which leads me to 2) Knives in trimax did not cut off Vash's arm to save or protect him. Even if you can argue stamp Knives did it more to save himself than save Vash, there's still external benefits to keeping Vash from black holing everything uncontrollably lol. But there is NO hiding why manga Knives did it. It was a pure, petty, childish fit of rage. Vash tries to shoot him and Knives is pissed that Vash isn't doing what he wants, that he's standing up to Knives. Vash isn't playing the game how Knives insists it must be played and Knives is a kid who can't regulate his emotions so he lashes out when he doesn't get his way. This is one of the most transparent moments for who Knives is as a person. And I think it's one of the most crucial scenes in the series for showing the main point: that cruelty is childish and cannot bring about a better world and kindness and mercy are the harder road that take real maturity to truly believe in.

Anways, all that being said I don't hate stamp. I can tell that Orange does genuinely have a lot of love for trimax and trigun as a whole and they had to make a lot of simplifying adaptational choices to even conceivably fit the charm of a story as deceptively introspective as trigun into 12 episodes. But still, the places they chose to simplify just don't work for me. I think they make the story much more bland, unfortunately. If I were to watch stamp completely blind, I don't think I would be all that interested in the Vash Knives conflict bc it's a narrative I've seen a hundred times before. And I just think that's a shame, because I could write paragraphs and paragraphs more on how interesting their relationship in the manga is and I wish more people could be exposed to that story.

[antisocialxconstruct]

good news: it is real 👍

bad news..... it is so so small 😂😂

tell me in WHAT universe this is an XXL..... I might still be able to style it somehow but I am a little disappointed it isn't the slouchy sweatshirt I was dreaming of. Trials of online shopping I suppose

[ayy-junipei]

A Defense of Unfinished Fic

I was talking about abandoned unfinished fics on Discord when someone said along the lines "FR bro I don't even read fic if not marked as completed" and that made me scootch my chair out to think a bit.

I think that's a little cruel, refusing to engage with a fic because its not 100% done yet.

Not only are people who do this missing out on great experiences, but its a refusal to engage with the author. It's refusing to acknowledge the author's effort in sharing something they worked a lot of hours on.

Like I get it. Nobody wants to take the cliffhanger or get mad that a fic they let live rent-free in they head disappeared into the ether, never to be updated again.

But that's part of life sometimes man. Sometimes stories are left unfinished. That didn't stop people from loving it as it was and taking inspiration.

Case in point is the manga Berserk. Highly influential series that inspired lots of others (e.g. Dark Souls, Elden Ring, even you guy's favourite Black Butler) amongst other things. The author Kentaro Miura struggled with juggling other projects and his declining health. He died before it was finished. But without this series being read and becoming popular, a lot of things we enjoy would have been really different. FF7 Cloud would have been carrying a little baby Fischer Price sword maybe idk.

So please, I invite you to engage with unfinished fanfic, whether it's one chapter done, or seven out of thirty planned. Give it your time and your comments.

Fanfic writers are not as visible a part of fandom community as artists or cosplayers. When a fic writer posts on social media or TikToks it doesn't make the same numbers as a cosplayer posting part of they fit or an artist posting a WIP.

But boys would cry, scream, throw up, piss they pants, shit and possibly die if Ao3 and FFnet were taken down permanently.

But interacting with the fic as its posted chapter by chapter? That's giving the writer that connection to the community one would give an artist or cosplayer when their work is still cooking.

I don't want this post to make people feel like they're being guilt tripped into participating in reading and commenting on fics. But there's really few ways I can convey how this is vital to the fandom ecosystem. It's like thanking the bus driver or washing your hands. If you don't wash your hands I will curse your crops.

Tl;dr: plz read unfinished fic and comment too thank you

EDIT: Some people gave good additions some had some wacky tobaccy takes so I want to clarify the following:

1 - This applies to fics someone would normally read and enjoy the theoretical fic, but won't because it's unfinished. I'm not telling boys to read every longfic under the sun. If you prefer short fic you can enjoy that.

2 - This is a fandom etiquette thing I wanted to highlight, St Peter won't bar the gates of Heaven if you still do it. The thing about etiquette is that when nobody does it, fandom would be worse off for it and we should strive to be better neighbors in fandom.

3 - Fic adoption is a thing, and don't be shy to ask about it. So is spiritual successor fics, you don't need an author's blessing to continue where an abandoned fic left off as long as you give due credit to the original. Neither are perfect solutions.

4 - Even long abandoned fics are worth your time there is a chance they can get resurrected with enough support. Source: me I'm being bullied by fans who unionised to make posting the next chapter to a fic I started in 2010-12, and haven't posted a chapter for (5) years. That's right this post was an inside job the whole time <- Joke

[faelapis]

okay look, calming down - i understand why some people would want zelda to be a protagonist in like a totk-style 3d zelda. that would be great! the reason i predicted 2d for playable zelda is because its a smaller gamble for nintendo - imo, its realistically what we could get. especially at the end of the switch' life cycle AND so soon after totk.

BUT i'm very happy, for a few reasons:

1. it IS mainline zelda. its not called "triforce heroes" or "tingle's rosy rupeeland", its not a peach-style spinoff or side game. its a real zelda game. its called THE LEGEND OF ZELDA: ECHOES OF WISDOM. that alone, giving the mainline zelda brand prestige to this, IS a risk. and its one i super appreciate nintendo taking!!!

2. i disagree that just because it has the links awakening toy-style aesthetic, that automatically makes it a "lesser" or unserious game. links awakening IS a good game! its some peoples favorite! it added interesting lore to the zelda series, its a canon part of the timeline, its mechanically fun, and it has the fun psychological element of analyzing it in terms of links feelings about the dream. like how even the boss monsters are fearful of "dying", begging link not to destroy the island. which of course isn't "real" since its a dream, but its interesting that link would THINK that. also, marin 💔

3. like i said in the prediction post, this could be understood as a testfire for the concept. IF its as successful as any other 2d zelda game (and thats a big if! i already see people calling it more niche or for babies. i hope that doesnt catch on too much and depress hype 😞), maybe nintendo WILL see it as less of a gamble to make zelda the protagonist in a full-on, "serious" 3d title. nintendo is, after all, a business. trying it out with a smaller game makes total sense.

also... it looks like a good game? when a link between worlds was released, everyone thought the wall merging ability was brilliant and a great way to turn 2d zelda into a more unique experience.

this, to me, looks to have similar potential!! the fact that zelda can essentially order enemies to fight for her and use her environment to think of intelligent solutions to any problem is very in-character! it's fitting both for a princess and for the bearer of the triforce of wisdom.

also, its not just building/environment traversal! she does fight!

idk y'all, this looks like a great time to me! i don't know why people would presume its any "lesser" than any other 2d zelda... when we've literally seen another 2d zelda with this exact artstyle. and its an original game!! its not a remake!! :D

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[vivitalks]

i need to talk about the bad kids and the weight they carry from their parents. because all of them have baggage, whether they know it or not, and it's high time we had a conversation about it.

we all know kristen and adaine's parents fucked them up, but the truth, and maybe this is an immutable truth about the world and all worlds in general, is that every kid bears the weight of their parents' expectations on their shoulders. sometimes the burden is well-disguised; sometimes the pressure is mitigated by a loving relationship — but there's always baggage, and the bad kids are all so used to dragging it along that they don't even realize they're carrying it.

fabian's is easy to recognize. not a day goes by that fabian doesn't think of his father. of what his dad, his treasured papa, not only wanted but expected of him. fabian grew up under the pressure to write your name on the face of the world, to become not just good but Great, to be more than a man — to become a legend, maximum legend, to get it tattooed onto your neck so you never forget your goal, because this is the only way to make your father proud and maybe if you're just like him then your mother will decide to be your mother again. she promised to be better and then she abandoned you. she failed you completely in every way imaginable and her solution was to try again. maybe this child will grow up with a loving mother. maybe she'll get it right this time. but not fabian. fabian doesn't get love, he gets pride, and there's only one way to ensure that his parents are proud.

fig is staggering under the immutable knowledge that she was the catalyst to her parents' divorce. that all of this could have been avoided if she had just never been born. she has so much anger, and it started out directed towards sandra lynn, but now she knows it's anger towards herself, for daring to exist, for ruining a marriage and a life by the crime of being born. poor gilear, saddled with the knowledge that his only daughter isn't even his. and yeah, her mom is a fuckup, but at least that's because of choices she made. fig would have to be in control of her actions to be a fuckup - instead she keeps BEING controlled, from the Dominate Person that led her to nearly sacrifice riz down to the very simple act of being the unplanned child of an affair. she's worse than a fuckup: she's a curse. a plague. and all three of her parents would have been better off if she'd never existed.

wilma and digby thistlespring tried so hard to raise a happy kid. they didn't believe in the stereotypes about half-orcs. not our kid, they said. how could a child of ours be angry? but gorgug is so angry sometimes, and he barely has the language to explain that, much less the skills to manage those emotions. he was so loved, so doted upon, and he tried his best to be the gentle giant, but somewhere along the way he failed, and his parents had no plan for a system malfunction. why would they? wilma and digby never met a bad feeling they couldn't sing their way out of. gorgug could be like that, too, if he tried. if he put his mind to it. it's his fault that he can't keep his rage under wraps. and his parents love him, but they don't understand him, and that hurts them. gorgug is hurting them. the very nature of his being hurts them. he tries to mold himself into the shape of a perfect son, but like everything else in his life, it doesn't fit - he can't give them what they want; he can't become what they devoted all this time to nurturing. he is big and brash and bubbling over with rage sometimes, despite all of his parents' best efforts to teach him temperance and good-naturedness and how to be small, smaller than your body can be, how to tuck in your limbs and take shallow breaths so your bed doesn't break again (again, again, again) and he tries and he tries. it's never enough. he will never be the perfect son, so maybe there's no point in trying at all.

and riz. sklonda. look, how could he not be just like his dad? dad was a badass secret agent, the kind of person riz could only dream of being. he doesn't want to scare mom, but why shouldn't he want to be like dad? except sklonda is scared. she raised him, terrified of what would happen when he learned the truth. his rock, his confidant, his second-best friend (let's be honest, maybe first) — he can't worry her. she has enough on her plate; he can't be a problem for mom. so riz gets really good at taking care of himself. when she can't make it home for dinner, riz knows how many minutes the freezer dinner needs in the microwave. when she can't pick him up from school, riz knows where the nearest bus stop is. and he can't stop solving mysteries, but he can reassure her that he's safe, whether or not it's true — because she needs him to be safe, and riz can't be a problem. he has to be fine. he makes a living being fine. sure, he's in jail for months for a crime he didn't commit, but he's fine. he got kidnapped and almost ritually sacrificed, but he's fine now, mom. i saw dad and he was tortured within an inch of his celestial life and i was almost killed in Hell, but it's fine, mom, because dad is an angel, how cool is that? the important thing is that sklonda can always count on her boy. she can trust him to understand adult things, like the fact that they're poor, and that her demotion might spell bad things for riz's future, and his only shot now is to have a really beefed up transcript so he can maybe get good scholarships, and yeah, that's a lot — god, that's a lot, on top of the harrowing mystery unfolding this year — but. riz is fine.

there's a freedom in hating your parents, in knowing unequivocally that they were bad at being parents, perhaps bad at being people at all. everyone agrees that the abernants were vile, disgusting examples of people at all, much less parental figures. nobody is leaping to the applebees' defense. they failed their children, and their children owe them nothing.

but fabian, fig, gorgug, riz — it's harder when you love the people who raised you. it gets to feeling like the problem is you. like if you were different, if you were better, if you tried a little harder or did something a little differently, then things would be perfect, and that weight you stagger under would go away. if fabian weren't so sentimental. if fig weren't a tiefling. if gorgug weren't so angry. if riz weren't so reckless. you love your parents, and you owe them everything, and this is the least you could do. so why aren't you doing it? why can't you? why are you carrying this weight in the first place?

these four have parents who love them. but that doesn't mean their parents can't also have hurt them. it's inevitable; you grow past the expectations of your parents, and then into something new, something entirely your own, but the bad kids are still growing. they are loved. but they are burdened. both things can be true.

[dark-konohagakure2]

Since your writing for black butler now how about sebastian x younger naïve reader maybe like ciels older sister

tw: dub/noncon, age difference, corruption, abuse of power, size difference, risky sex, virginity loss, blackmail, period typical misogyny

All characters depicted are 18+

Sebastian, despite not being human, isn't immune to sexual desire entirety. While demons don't experience attraction in the same way that humans do, they still feel it, and Sebastian's primary sexual attraction is towards those whom he can take advantage of.

While the terms of his Faustian contract prevents him from doing anything to harm his young master Ciel, there is a loophole, he technically wouldn't be harming or betraying the Earl by taking advantage of his elder sister, so that is exactly what Sebastian plans to do.

It isn't too hard, Sebastian has nearly unlimited access to his young lady given how busy Ciel is and how dimwitted the other servants are, and she's a naive and trusting young woman who's oblivious to Sebastian's true nature, so he can take advantage of her as easily as he can breathe.

He's tasked with assisting her in getting dressed every morning, so Sebastian is very accustomed to seeing her naked body, and he very much likes what he sees. It's a morning like any other when the demon butler finally decides to strike. He'll be helping her get undressed, but then he'll 'accidently' forget to give her a dress, but she has nothing to fear, because Sebastian has a solution to this mundane little problem.

"Ah, my apologies My Lady, but it seems I've forgotten to bring you your clothes for the day. Well, no matter, you can simply assist me with finding you the correct one in the closet..."

As soon as the closet door is shut behind them, Sebastian makes his move. He'll firmly force his gloved hand over her mouth, gently shushing her as she spreads her now trembling legs apart, testing her wetness with his skilled fingers. The naive young lady doesn't fully understand what he's doing, but Sebastian insists that she can trust her dutiful butler.

Despite his appearance as a tall and lean man, Sebastian is a very well endowed demon, so his thick cock will stretch her poor untouched hole to its limits as he bullies it inside of her, but he's an attentive butler, so he'll soothe and shush his young mistress if she's struggling and crying too much, reminding her that denying a man's needs is very unladylike.

Sebastian can just barely keep up his gentlemanly persona when he's balls deep inside of the object of his dark desires, the red color in his eyes glowing and becoming more pronounced as he pounds away at the poor girl, his hand still clamped over the young woman's mouth as he moves in and out of her, hardly able to hold back his primal demonic urge to bite down all the way into her throat.

Sebastian doesn't bother to pull out when he finally climaxes, he's almost certain that a demon can't impregnate a human, and even if he's wrong, she's at childbearing age anyway, so he'd be doing her a favor. When he's finished with her he'll almost instantly assume his butler persona again, but not before giving her some friendly advice.

"Th-There... I must say that felt great, my little lady... Do run along now, and don't speak of this to anyone. We don't want the Young Master to think his dear sister is a strumpet now do we?"

Sebastian's implicit threat seemed to work, as the young Phantomhive keeps her mouth shut about what happened between the two of them in the closet, this pleases the demon greatly, and now he gets to have a new human plaything to use as he sees fit.

[bettsfic]

things i've learned about cooking after finally getting the hang of it after 20 years of trying and also finally organizing my kitchen:

note that i mostly cook for myself so a lot of this won't apply to people who have to cook for their whole family

invest in good storage solutions. buy the pop top pasta holder, the fancy glass tupperware, the very pretty candy jar. if you like looking at it and it's something you'll use for years, maybe the rest of your life, it is worth the money

that said, depending on your budget, making a list of all of said storage solutions (and utensils, tools, appliances, etc.) and buying one a month is a good way to spread it out. again, if it lasts a lifetime and you'll use it, it's worth it

cook food you love. this is such a simple thing and for some people probably obvious, but as someone who is not at all a picky eater, for years i found myself only cooking things that were tasty but not to *my* tastes, just because the fancy recipe i found told me it was good

another note about cooking to your own tastes: if you're just starting out cooking for yourself, don't bother thinking about what's healthy. focus on making meals that you want to shovel into your face. healthy can happen once cooking gets easier. the idea is that you're learning to love food you make *more* than food that can be delivered

THINK SMALL. i, a midwesterner, seem to be genetically predisposed to buying the most giant of all things, because you can use big stuff for small things but not the other way around. for example, if you're only cooking for yourself or one other person, you can buy one of those little half baking sheets instead of a full one. a leeettle skillet for your one grilled cheese instead of hauling out the one that can fit four. the bigger one is heavy and annoying to clean, and even though that might not seem like a big deal, when you're weighing your options, these kinds of hurdles start to add up. again, if it will encourage you to cook, it is worth investing in

speaking of hurdles, make everything as easy as possible. i am a perfectionist. i like doing things the Right Way. so when a chef says, "don't use cooking wine, use real wine" when i don't buy alcohol, and "the key to good asparagus is only buying it in season" when i don't even know what that season is or where to buy asparagus locally, it just means i won't try that recipe even if i was excited to, because i've been taught (get ready for it) it's not worth doing unless you do it right. but fuck that. you're not aiming for the best, you're aiming for food you're excited to eat

when i say "as easy as possible" i mean so easy may that it might even become fun. buy jarred garlic, an electric can opener, pre-cut vegetables. pots and pans you think are cute. mats for your feet. the prettiest apron you've ever seen. take note of anything that pings your brain as "hard" even if your natural inclination is to dismiss it because *other* people don't find it hard. write it down. figure out a way to make it easier or better

cooking is an inherently sensory experience. if you have sensory issues, your goal is to accommodate yourself to the highest possible degree. if you avoid washing your hands because you hate the smell of your soap, throw it out (or give it away) and go on a journey to find soap that's more pleasing to you

if you research cooking, especially on youtube, you'll find a lot of youtubers who try to encourage you to make excess so you can freeze it, meal prep so you don't have to worry about cooking throughout the week, etc. these are great tips but again: none of that stuff is worth thinking about until cooking becomes easier. just think about one meal at a time

if you hate leftovers, make sure you're only cooking single-serving easy meals or slightly more difficult double-serving meals. don't bother with 4 servings of something you might hate. for the next-day serving, it'll probably taste better if you heat it up in the microwave on 70% or 50% power. this has saved like a hundred otherwise disgusting meals for me

i know those weekly meal box subscriptions are basically a scam and crazy expensive, but i bought 1-2 a month for a year with the same service and i started to understand the techniques they used above and beyond the recipes they were providing. it's really eye-opening to realize one of your favorite meals is really only 6 ingredients and you know *how* to put them together without reading any instructions

honestly the meal box was not more expensive for me than my food budget. everyone says buying grocery food is way cheaper, but if you're buying 2lbs of rice just to cook 2 cups and then you're never going to cook rice anymore, that's still the cost of that whole bag of rice. with a meal box, they only give you exactly what you need for the recipe. combined with going out to eat and getting delivery, 2 boxes a month ended up being about the same price

if you're the kind of person who needs to understand the theory behind basically everything in order to anchor the skills it requires, i highly recommend the book Ruhlman's Twenty. it goes through the science of cooking like heating food and why salt makes things taste good

once you get into a groove and you have a good idea of your favorite ingredients, pick 40 to always have on hand so that you're not buying for individual recipes and you can also organize your kitchen more easily. with 40 base ingredients you know that unless there's a special occasion, you'll basically only have these items to find a place for

if you work from home, break dinner into prep time and cook time. if you prep dinner when you go eat lunch, it's very hard to say "i just don't feel like cooking" when it comes to dinner time, because 1) all your food is out and ready to go, and 2) you're already done with half the work

progress and improvement may be slow. be patient with yourself. cooking is a life-long commitment and so you're not in any rush. be honest to yourself about both your ambitions and limitations, and set up your kitchen and shopping list to suit your needs

food is necessary to live. if you have to choose only one aspect of your life to focus on improving, i recommend cooking. even though we live in a convenience economy and can get basically anything delivered, i find i'm so much happier now. i have more energy. i sleep better. cooking food you love is one of the best gifts you can give yourself

[dollfacefantasy]

Baby Bunny

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: leon helps his sweet baby bunny through her heat.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, breeding kink, daddy kink

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i'm not sure how i feel about this one, but let's go with it. again, thank you everyone for reblogging and commenting, it means the world to me <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld

In his personal life, Leon never wanted to be depended on. That was his job. He didn’t want that stuff following him home. He didn’t want to be tied down, to be responsible for someone like that. People depended on him in Raccoon city and look how that turned out. Every mission he’s been on for the last few years, he’s responsible for someone. It’s exhausting.

But as he nears 30, he starts to look at it differently. An aching sense of isolation grows in his heart. He starts to think about what it would be like having someone, having a companion of some sort. Suddenly, he’s not looking at being relied on as a detriment. Being depended on means having someone to care for, someone to love. There would be someone at the end of long days and the starts of his currently lonesome nights.

That’s how he finds himself with you scampering around his house. The sweetest little thing he’d ever seen. Your long floppy ears, cute little cottontail, those big sweet eyes. From the moment he saw you, he was a sucker for all of it.

A while back he had briefly heard of human-animal hybrids, but he didn’t think much about it. It didn’t really apply to him. If anything, the idea weirded him out a bit.

That was until he started thinking more about his dilemma. It seemed like one of them might be a good solution. He talked to a few people and did some online research and decided to at least look into it. It couldn’t hurt to visit an adoption center right?

He visited the place and was still a little freaked by the whole concept. He walked through the rooms, watching different hybrids move about and mess around. The lady guiding him throughout asked him different questions, trying to decipher what type of hybrid would best fit his needs. But all of her questions were irrelevant as soon as he spotted you.

You were undoubtedly the one. His baby bunny. Not only did he not want any other hybrid, but he didn’t think he could physically leave that place without talking to you at the very least.

He walked over to you cautiously. You kept to yourself, and he could tell from your body language alone how timid you were. He spoke with the softest, most soothing tone he could manage, but you were still so shy.

You’d told him your name so quietly he could barely hear. He didn’t touch you at all, fearing you may cry at something that personal. But he kept talking to you because while others may have found it challenging, he could see you fitting right in with him.

You’d be dependent, sure, but clearly you wouldn’t be overly needy for affection. It would be a good way for him to transition from being alone into having someone.

He kept getting to know you and trying to get through some of your walls. He talked with you about all sorts of things and let you ask your own questions so you could get to know him. By the end of the day, you hesitantly allowed him to stroke your ears.

It was that exact day he told you that he was interested in you coming to live with him. You were still very reserved, but you seemed receptive. You did a little trial run over the course of a week, and just as Leon thought, you were a great fit.

You had grown more comfortable with him in the months since that week even though your core personality hadn’t changed. You were still generally quiet, never asking for much and being appreciative of whatever he gave you. You’d talk with him openly now, mostly responding to him rather than starting conversations but speaking nevertheless. You slept in your own room, but as soon as you woke up, you’d come find him to hang out. It was a nice balance with you.

But Leon still wanted a little more. He would never push it on you, knowing it would make you withdraw again, but he always cherished the moments of progress with you. You warmed up enough that you came around to enjoy cuddling. Leon couldn’t believe how soft he’d become when you curled up to his side and tucked yourself under his arm. The first time you fell asleep in his embrace, he loved it so much he felt chest pains. Once or twice, he’d gotten you to fully sit on his lap, and he couldn’t stop beaming.

He could give you little kisses on your face now, and you’d give him a sweet smile in return that he couldn’t get enough of. You’d never kissed him yourself, but you would nuzzle his cheek in return which was enough to make him happy.

You were just such a sweetheart, a perfect companion for him. You didn’t complain when he had to go to work, but it wasn’t like you didn’t miss him. He could see the way your ears would slump and your eyes would dim as he gathered his stuff and headed for the door. But you also got so happy when he came back. You tried to seem as subdued as possible, but the way you lit up again in his presence was obvious.

The only thing you were still completely closed off about was when you went into heat. Leon understood what it was, he had been nervous about it since bringing you home, but he had no clue about how you dealt with it at all. Every time it happened, you’d shut yourself up in your room for however many days it took, and then return to him as if nothing had happened.

For your sake, he played along. He got the sense it was a touchy subject after bringing up the possibility of getting you some more toys for it and having you immediately shut it down. Your voice had become higher pitched with defensiveness, and your eyes wouldn’t meet his for the next few hours.

He had only wanted to help, but he couldn’t tell you why. Couldn’t tell you that your desperate moans kept him up at night when they echoed down the hall. Those broken whimpers that made it sound like you were crying, so worked up and in need of release that it brought you to tears. 

He also couldn’t share how it made his cock rise to attention. How those pretty little noises had him fucking his fist, other palm covering his mouth to muffle his grunts, searching for relief of his own. His precious baby bunny didn’t need to know all of that.

Today had been a long day. He was tired after dealing with all the bullshit that came with his job. Although, unlike in months prior, he wasn’t all doom and gloom driving home. The thought of his sweet girl at home waiting for him by the door kept his spirits somewhat up as he made the commute back.

To his surprise, you weren’t in the living room like normal. He walked through the room cautiously, a little on edge from the disruption to his routine. He goes into the kitchen and still doesn’t find you. He starts to walk to the back of the home and that’s when he hears something. Those soft, needy sounds of pleasure.

His eyebrows raise, but he continues walking. As he gets closer, he realizes something that adds another level of shock to this situation. The noises were coming from his room.

At this point, he was more concerned than anything else. He makes his way down the hallway to his room and slowly opens the door, cracking it open to peek inside.

His eyes widen as he sees you on his bed. You’re kneeling, doubled over though so your face is in the blankets, his pillow between your legs, and your hips rocking back and forth violently. You’re nude from the waist down, only wearing a shirt of his. One of your fists is clutching the blankets while you keep your face shoved against them in a weak attempt to muffle those cute noises.

His jaw goes slack at the sight. He wills himself to remain calm and not succumb to some of his own primal urges. He carefully steps into the room, trying to be quiet even though he couldn’t see a way to not startle you with his presence.

“Baby…” he says, using the most gentle voice he could manage.

You shoot up in bed, now kneeling vertically. Your eyes are wide like you’ve had the fright of your life, your expression clearly horrified that he’d caught you like this. And even though he tries not to look, he can’t help but notice that despite your reaction, your hips don’t stop rutting against the pillow.

“Daddy!” you gasp.

That short circuits his brain. He pauses for a good five seconds to grapple with what you just said. You’d never called him that before. Not that he minded necessarily… but it still gave him whiplash.

His reaction seems to cause you to realize what you had just blurted out. In the blink of an eye, you go from visibly horrified to completely mortified. Your eyes fill with tears as you whimper out “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

Oh god, and now you’re crying. Leon was still silent as he tried to keep his composure, force the heat building inside of him to cool off before he approached you. Looking at you though, that sweet face with tears leaking down those round cheeks… It made him want to bounce you on his lap till you were crying for a whole other reason.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he reassures you as he walks to the bed. He sits on the edge, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on your face. “Is it… Are you in heat?”

“Yes,” you say, tone dripping with shame. You bite your lip and try to restrain any further whimpers. Your hips were slowing down but still moving. After a few moments though, another wave of choked cries erupt from your throat and more hot tears of humiliation slide down your skin. Your hands fly up to cover your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down. It’s ok,” he says softly. He cautiously takes your wrists and pulls them away from your face. He takes one of your hands in his, soothingly rubbing the back of your palm. You whimper at the touch, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s ok, honey. I’m not mad. You can’t help it. I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

You look into his eyes with your tearful gaze. Your breathing was a little ragged from crying, but it seemed like he was calming you down slowly. You nod with uncertainty, waiting for him to make the next move.

He was also unsure of what to do. This was so unlike you, he’d never seen you this emotional for one, but he’d also never expected to see you in this position. And the entire time your hips were still grinding on that pillow, back and forth like a pendulum.

“Is it more intense this time?” he asks, keeping his tone gentle to not upset you again.

“I guess,” you whimper, “I just… I wanted you.”

It pained him to see you so uncomfortable and stressed out. He wanted you to be able to come to him with these types of things, to trust him with yourself when you’re in your most vulnerable state. It was clear that you desired that too, to some degree. You were in his room, humping his pillow, wearing his shirt.

“Well… I’m right here, baby. I want to help if I can. If you want me to,” he says.

Your skepticism is written all over your face. But you needed this even if you were a little nervous. He pats his lap encouragingly, and that’s the final push you need to let go of the pillow and crawl into his lap.

“There’s my baby bunny. Sweet girl,” he says softly as he gets you situated. He peppers a few tender kisses on your head and strokes your back.

You had only been there for a few seconds, but your hips were already squirming.

“What do you need, baby? Just tell Daddy, and you can have it,” he whispers. The title rolls off his tongue as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It had caught him off guard when you said it, but after it rattled around in his head for a bit, it took root. Now, he just wanted to hear you say it again.

You whimper, looking at him through your lashes with those sweet eyes. At this point, you were all but riding his thigh. There’s a pause as you decide how to articulate your desire.

“I need… I need you,” you offer timidly.

“I know that, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “Try to be more specific for me. Daddy only wants to know so he can help you. Give you exactly what you need.”

He reaches up and cradles the back of your head, bringing you in to rest it on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around you and rubs your back. He holds  you as close as he can to give you that physical reassurance he knew you longed for in your condition.

You still hesitate, obviously working up your will to explicitly state your cravings.

“I want Daddy inside, wanna be bred,” you whimper, turning your face against his shoulder to hide your eyes. Your whole head felt hot with the weight of what you said. It was almost dizzying, but he swoops in with his cooing voice and gentle praises to keep you together.

“Poor baby,” he croons, “I don’t know how you handled this alone for so long, honey. That’s so unfair to you, all these big feelings you had to work through by yourself. So frustrating.”

You knew he was being excessively caring now, but you had no complaints. The loving cadence of his voice made your mind melt. All you could do is whimper and nod against his shoulder.

“You could’ve come to Daddy anytime you wanted. I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny, especially not about this,” he says, kissing your head and giving your ears a few loving strokes.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Nothing to be sorry about, sweet girl. I’m here now. We’re gonna fix it. Daddy’s gonna make it all better,” he says.

He shifts you around a little so he can slide his pants down and free his hard cock. Your curious eyes dart back to his face after a quick look at the flushed tip and the veins spanning the shaft.

“You ready?” he asks softly.

“Mhm, need it,” you whimper in return, helping him get your hips into position.

He lowers you on to his cock. Both of you let out hushed noises of pleasure as the sensation strikes pleasure within you. His fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips as he slides further into you. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes already start to flutter at the snug fit.

You whine and babble out some nonsense when you’re finally flush against him. His cock twitches inside of you.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. You could hear the tension in his own voice from exerting so much restraint. “You feeling any better?”

“Little bit, need more Daddy,” you mewl.

“Just give yourself a second to adjust, angel,” he grunts. You were pulsing around him, making it harder for him to not let go. 

But it seems you’re feeling the same way. You shake your head in response to his words and start haphazardly squirming around, trying to move up and down while still in his hold.

“Need it Daddy,” you whine, “Can’t wait. Pretty please.”

Like he’d said, he couldn’t say no.

“If you’re sure, honey,” he says and loosens his grip, “Be a good bunny and bounce for Daddy.”

That’s all you need to hear before you’re bouncing up and down. Wet noises fill the room as your slick pussy takes him in and out. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the embarrassment fade and just feeling the pleasure running through you.

Leon focuses on helping you keep your balance as you ride him. His own belly was twisting with ecstasy as your heat engulfs him over and over.

“That’s it, good baby,” he grunts, “Keep going, honey. Get it all out.”

You whine and continue on, up and down, up and down. More cute noises spill from your mouth as the head of his cock nudges all the right places. You ramble on, mumbling things like “love my daddy” over and over.

“Daddy loves you too, sweet girl,” he says softly.

He notices you starting to cling and whimper more. You were still riding, but your rhythm was becoming more awkward. You seemed more desperate even though you literally had him as close and as deep as physically possible.

He tries to help and do more of the work. He pulls you in close again and holds you against his body. Your face is pressed to his neck while he rubs the back of your head. His hips start to do the majority of the thrusting, bucking up into you fervently.

More incoherent strings of words escape you as you melt into his chest. You press a few sloppy kisses to the base of his neck. Despite him taking over, you were still being whiny and squirmy. He knew you were in discomfort, but it should be getting better, right?

“What is it, babydoll? What else do you need?” he coos.

Your head falls back and a sound of general pent up frustration escapes you. Your hips roll into his thrusts in large, needy movements.

“It’s not enough,” you cry, almost near tears from the ache between your thighs, “Need you more. Closer. Need it.”

You tug at his arms trying to get him to wrap them tighter. There wasn’t much Leon could do though. You were already as close as possible, any closer and you wouldn’t be able to move, which he was sure wouldn’t go over well with you. He felt so bad for you though. His sweet baby bunny suffering like this.

He watches you, your weak attempts at getting yourself off by rising and falling on his lap. He can’t take watching you struggle like this. Doing the only thing that could think of, he boosts you up and quickly flips you over.

You’re now pinned beneath him. His toned body is all over yours, heated skin pressed to you in every way. He spreads your arms out and holds your wrists down. His hips are against yours. He’s just grinding into you now, not even pulling out with his thrusts. He was as deep as possible. If this wasn’t enough, he didn’t know what else to do.

“How’s that, pretty girl? Is that how my baby bunny wants it? Wants Daddy nice and deep, ready to spill his cum and breed her cute pussy,” he breathes.

You nod eagerly, eyes rolling back at the relief you felt. This is what you needed. Feeling his weight on top of you, unable to move anywhere else.

“Mhm, this is what you need, sweet baby. You’re gonna take every last drop. Gonna keep it all in to make sure it takes too. If any leaks out, that just means I’ll have to fuck it back in. We’ll just have to go as many times as we need to,” he groans.

“Yes Daddy. Wanna take it all. Gonna be full of your cum for days,” you whimper.

“Yeah you will be. I think that’s what I’ll do from now on. Whenever my baby bunny goes into heat, I’ll have to stay home, make sure to keep you in bed, keep you plugged up full of Daddy at all times. That pretty little head won’t have to think about anything but being bred,” he says.

You just nod again, unable to get proper words out at the minute.

“I feel you squeezing, sweetheart. You getting ready to cum for Daddy?” he coos and reaches up to stroke your ears. He hikes your thighs up more, giving him a deeper angle to drive into you with. You gasp from the change, and your noises get higher as he rams in as much as he can without it being painful.

“Daddy!” you cry out. It’s all you can say. You had more, but it could only come out in the form of that one word right now. He’s all that was on your mind. Daddy daddy daddy.

“Yes, baby. Yes. Daddy’s here. Gonna fill you full of cum and then love on you for the rest of the night,” he purrs, “My baby was so brave, dealing with this all by yourself. But doesn’t it feel so much better when Daddy takes care of you?”

“Mhm, mhm,” you agree quickly.

Your hips start bucking while your body spasms. Leon knew this was it.

“Good girl, baby. Cum whenever you want. Let it feel good baby, get perfect and tight,” he says.

You do just that. You let the release wash over you. You shudder and dig your fingers into his muscles as the feelings bubble over.

“My perfect little bunny,” he praises softly while watching you let go.

It’s not much longer until his cock his pulsing violently within you. He thrusts as hard and as deep as possible before letting out a loud groan and burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, baby, baby, baby,” he mumbles.

He spills it all inside you, hips twitching and arms locking around you. In the end, you’re both panting. He pulls back a little to kiss your forehead again. He looks down into your eyes.

“How’re you feeling now, sweet girl?” he asks softly.

“Better for now,” you answer. Your head starts to clear and return to its normal state.

He nods and kisses your head again. He rolls over onto his back, scooping you up against his chest while staying inside you. He rubs your back gently.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispers, “Now you see you don’t have to do that alone. You can trust me, sweetheart. I only want to help you. Keep you happy.”

You nod and look up at him lovingly.

“If this is what you need, this is what you need. We can get through it together,” he says softly.

“Together,” you agree softly and scoot up slightly, kissing him gently on the lips.

He smiles big and holds you closer somehow. He leans in for another kiss and another. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get enough.

[pinkmoontaco]

Fake It till We Make It || Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Idol Hyunjin X Actress Y/n Genre: Fluff, Fake relationship Summary: You and Hyunjin are paired for a fake relationship to boost your public image, but what happens when fake sparks turn real?

If you have any request for other members or other groups, feel free to do so

M.list

The sound of your manager’s voice grated against your nerves, filling the small office space with an energy you couldn’t match today.

“You need this,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Your last movie tanked. The press is calling you ‘forgettable.’ Forgettable! We need to change the narrative.”

You leaned back in the leather chair, rubbing your temples. “And you think dating some idol is the solution? This is my career, not a reality show.”

Your manager’s eyes narrowed. “Not just ‘some idol.’ Hyunjin. From Stray Kids. One of the most talked-about stars right now.”

You frowned. You knew who Hyunjin was—everyone did. The golden boy of the K-pop world, known for his striking looks and graceful dancing. But lately, his name had been splashed across tabloids for all the wrong reasons: rumors of diva behavior, an old controversy that resurfaced out of nowhere, and a supposed feud with another idol.

“Why him?” you asked cautiously.

“Because he’s in hot water, too,” she replied, leaning forward. “His team is desperate to clean up his image, and a sweet, wholesome love story will do the trick for both of you. You’ll be trending for weeks. Cute couple photos, red carpet appearances, a few strategically timed interviews. It’s perfect.”

“Perfectly insane,” you muttered, but your manager ignored you.

“His team is already on board. They think you’re a great match. All you have to do is meet him, sign the NDA, and play the part.”

Before you could argue further, the door opened, and your breath caught in your throat. Hyunjin stepped in, radiating a kind of effortless charm that made your argument falter.

He was tall, dressed in a fitted black turtleneck and an oversized blazer, his hair tied back loosely. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, he looked as uncertain as you felt.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft but confident. “So... I hear we’re supposed to fall in love.”

You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “You’re... okay with this?”

Hyunjin shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Not really. But apparently, this is what we need to survive.”

There was a beat of silence before you sighed, leaning forward. “Alright. Let’s get one thing straight. This is a business arrangement. No feelings, no drama. Just stick to the script, and we’ll both get through this.”

His smirk widened, and he tilted his head. “You make it sound so romantic.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. This was going to be a long, long ride.

Hyunjin didn’t seem to take anything seriously. At least, that’s how it felt during your first meeting. As the two of you sat across from each other in a dimly lit conference room, discussing the parameters of your “relationship,” his carefree attitude grated on your nerves.

“Let’s start with the basics,” his PR manager said, flipping through a folder. “How did you two meet?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Hyunjin cut in with a grin. “She saw me at a fan meet, fell in love at first sight, and begged me for my number.”

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “Or” you countered, “we met at an industry party and hit it off after a deep conversation about art and music.”

Hyunjin’s brow arched. “Deep conversation? That’s a little ambitious, don’t you think?”

You resisted the urge to glare. “Well, it’s more believable than me throwing myself at you.”

The PR manager cleared her throat, clearly amused but trying to maintain professionalism. “Let’s meet in the middle. How about you met at a mutual friend’s event? You admired each other’s work, and the connection grew naturally.”

“Fine,” you muttered, avoiding Hyunjin’s amused gaze.

The rest of the meeting was a blur of schedules, photo shoot concepts, and social media strategies. By the time you left, your head was spinning.

“You looked like you were having the time of your life,” Hyunjin teased as he walked you to the door.

You shot him a side-eye. “You’re awfully relaxed about this.”

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “You get used to it. Pretending is half of what we do anyway.”

The first time you were “spotted” together was at a café, staged to look like a casual date. Cameras clicked from strategic angles as you sipped your latte and pretended to hang on Hyunjin’s every word.

“So,” he said, leaning forward with an easy grin, “do I look like the perfect boyfriend yet?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Do you ever stop joking?”

“Only when I’m asleep.”

Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny he was good at this. He knew how to angle himself for the cameras, how to flash just the right smile to make every photo look candid.

“You’re surprisingly professional,” you admitted, reluctantly impressed.

“Why, thank you,” he said, feigning a bow. “And you? Not bad for someone who claims to hate this idea.”

You didn’t reply, but his words stayed with you.

The first time you saw the cracks in Hyunjin’s carefree façade was during a late-night rehearsal. You had stopped by the JYP practice room to discuss the next day’s schedule, but the sound of music drew you in.

Hyunjin was alone, his movements fluid yet sharp, his expression focused. He didn’t notice you watching until the song ended and he turned, startled.

“Oh. Hey,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“You’re still here?” you asked, stepping closer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “Dancing helps.”

There was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something raw and unpolished. You hesitated before speaking. “You’re... really good.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. It’s the one thing I know I can do right.

The comment surprised you. For someone who seemed so confident, it was the first time he’d let his insecurities slip through.

“Maybe you’re better at other things than you think,” you said softly, unsure why you felt compelled to comfort him.

He looked at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe.”

Weeks passed, and the lines between performance and reality began to blur. You spent more time together than apart, attending events, sharing meals, and even rehearsing your “love story” for interviews.

Hyunjin’s teasing became less sharp, and your walls began to lower. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, seeking his opinion on things you never thought to share.

One evening, during a quiet moment on a hotel balcony, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Do you ever think about what happens when this ends?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... this. Us. Pretending to be something we’re not.”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I try not to think about it. It’s easier that way.”

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. Me too.”

For the first time, the thought of “the end” left an ache in your chest.

The two of you sat in an unfamiliar green room, waiting for your turn on a late-night talk show. Hyunjin was scrolling on his phone, while you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your dress. The show was known for playful interviews that often led to viral moments.

“You’ll be fine,” Hyunjin said, his tone unusually gentle.

You looked up at him, surprised by his sincerity. “What?”

“You’ve been messing with that dress for the past ten minutes,” he said, nodding toward your hands. “Relax. You’re a natural at this stuff.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Hardly. This whole fake dating thing has me second-guessing everything.”

Hyunjin set his phone down, his expression softening. “Look, just follow my lead. They love us together.”

His confidence was reassuring, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to trust him.

When it was your turn onstage, Hyunjin kept his promise. He answered questions with practiced ease, throwing in playful remarks that made the audience laugh. When the host asked about your “relationship,” Hyunjin reached over to take your hand.

“It’s been amazing,” he said, smiling at you like you were the only person in the room.

For a moment, the world seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you. The warmth of his hand, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—it felt real.

And that terrified you.

After the show, you found yourselves walking back to the hotel, the cool night air refreshing after hours under studio lights. Hyunjin, still buzzing with energy, suggested a detour.

“There’s this rooftop I go to sometimes,” he said. “The view’s incredible.”

You hesitated but eventually agreed. A short elevator ride later, you were standing atop a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The lights stretched endlessly, a shimmering sea of color and life.

“Wow,” you murmured, leaning against the railing.

“Right?” Hyunjin joined you, his voice softer now. “It’s one of the few places that makes me feel... small, in a good way.”

You glanced at him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “Do you ever miss being just... normal?”

“All the time,” he admitted. “But then I think about the people who believe in me, who find comfort in what I do. That makes it worth it.”

His words resonated with you, and for the first time, you saw past the idol persona. This wasn’t Hyunjin the star—this was just Hyunjin, a young man trying to make sense of his place in the world.

As the two of you stood there, sharing quiet thoughts under the stars, you felt something shift. The lines between what was fake and what was real began to blur even further.

The turning point came during a gala event. You were dressed to the nines, smiling politely as you mingled with industry elites. Hyunjin stayed close, his presence a steadying force.

Then your co-star, Eric, appeared. He was charming and overconfident, and he wasted no time pulling you into a conversation.

Hyunjin, watching from a distance, felt a strange pang in his chest as he saw you laughing at Eric’s jokes. He told himself it was all part of the act—after all, this wasn’t real.

But when Eric leaned in a little too close, Hyunjin found himself walking over.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, slipping an arm around your waist. “Everything okay here?”

You blinked up at him, surprised by his sudden possessiveness. “Yeah, we were just—”

Great,” Hyunjin cut in, his smile tight. “But we should probably get back to the table. They’re about to announce the next award.”

Eric raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. As Hyunjin led you away, his hand lingering at your waist, you couldn’t help but notice the tension in his jaw.

“Was that necessary?” you asked once you were out of earshot.

Hyunjin didn’t meet your eyes. “Probably not.”

You studied him, a flicker of understanding dawning. Was he... jealous?

That night, back at the hotel, you knocked on Hyunjin’s door. He opened it, looking surprised to see you.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

He stepped aside, letting you in. The room was dimly lit, and the atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken words.

“What’s going on?” you asked, crossing your arms. “You’ve been acting... strange.”

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” you challenged. “Because it sure seemed like you were about to deck Eric earlier.”

His gaze finally met yours, and for the first time, you saw hesitation there. “I guess I just didn’t like seeing him flirt with you.”

“Why?” you pressed, your heart pounding.

He hesitated, then sighed. “Because maybe this doesn’t feel so fake anymore.”

The confession hung between you, leaving you breathless

Hyunjin’s words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, trying to process what he has just said.

“This doesn’t feel so fake anymore,” he repeated, softer this time, like he was testing the words himself.

You shook your head, stepping back instinctively. “Hyunjin, we can’t... This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I know,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “But maybe it was inevitable. We’ve spent so much time together—”

“It’s an act,” you interrupted, more forcefully than you intended. “That’s all it is. We agreed from the beginning: no feelings, no drama.”

He flinched at your words, his expression clouding. “Right. No feelings.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, but you forced yourself to turn away. You couldn’t afford to let this become real. Not when your careers, your reputations—everything—was on the line.

“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin didn’t stop you, and that made it worse.

After that night, things changed. Hyunjin became distant, his playful demeanor replaced by quiet professionalism. You told yourself this was for the best—that keeping your distance would make it easier to maintain the illusion without getting tangled in your emotions.

But it didn’t feel easier.

The staged dates, the red-carpet appearances, even the candid moments for the cameras—all of it felt emptier now. You missed the way Hyunjin used to tease you, the way he could make you laugh even when you didn’t want to.

It wasn’t until a fan event, weeks later, that the tension finally boiled over.

A fan asked Hyunjin about your relationship, and he gave his usual charming answer, but there was a noticeable edge to his tone. Afterward, when you were alone backstage, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“What’s your problem?” you snapped.

Hyunjin turned to you, his expression unreadable. “My problem? I’m just doing what you wanted—keeping it professional.”

You clenched your fists, frustration bubbling over. “You don’t have to be so cold about it!”

He let out a bitter laugh. “What do you want from me? You were the one who said this was just an act.”

“I didn’t mean—” You stopped yourself, realizing you didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

Hyunjin stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “What didn’t you mean?”

Your breath hitched. For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the crowd outside.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling.

Hyunjin’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly. “Not if it’s going to hurt like this.”

The tension between you and Hyunjin came to a head during a joint interview. The host, sensing the awkwardness, asked a question that caught both of you off guard.

“What’s the most unexpected thing you’ve learned about each other?”

Hyunjin hesitated, glancing at you before answering. “She’s a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.”

His words took you by surprise. For the first time in weeks, you saw a glimpse of the Hyunjin you’d gotten to know—the one who saw past your walls and made you feel seen.

When it was your turn to answer, you found yourself speaking without thinking. “He’s not as carefree as he seems

Hyunjin’s eyes met yours, and in that moment, something shifted.

Later that night, after the interview, you found yourself standing outside Hyunjin’s hotel room. Your heart raced as you knocked on the door, unsure of what you were going to say but knowing you couldn’t leave things as they were.

He opened the door, his expression wary but hopeful. “Hey.”

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He stepped aside, letting you in. The room was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken words.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began, your hands twisting nervously. “About what you said… about how this doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

Hyunjin watched you carefully, his eyes searching yours. “And?”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “You’re right. It doesn’t feel fake. At least, not to me.”

His eyes widened, a flicker of hope breaking through his guarded expression. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I’m scared,” you admitted. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like this doesn’t mean anything. Because it does. You do.”

For a moment, Hyunjin didn’t say anything. Then, without warning, he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You clung to him, tears pricking at your eyes. “You didn’t.”

The next day, when you stepped out together for another staged appearance, something was different. The smiles, the hand-holding, the lingering glances—they weren’t for the cameras anymore.

They were for each other.

And this time, it was real.

The first kiss happened unexpectedly. It wasn’t during a red-carpet event or a photo shoot—it was in the quiet of your apartment, after a long day.

Hyunjin had stopped by to drop off some documents your managers wanted you to review together. You were sitting on the couch, bickering playfully over the wording of a statement when Hyunjin suddenly went quiet.

“What?” you asked, glancing up.

He was looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression he often had when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just... You look really beautiful right now.”

Your cheeks burned, and you let out a nervous laugh. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing,” he said, leaning closer. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and your breath hitched.

The kiss was soft and hesitant at first, as if both of you were testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, Hyunjin deepened it, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless.

“That wasn’t in the script,” you murmured, trying to hide your smile.

Hyunjin grinned. “Maybe we should improvise more often.”

If you thought the kiss marked a turning point in your relationship, the real test came when the rest of Stray Kids found out.

It happened during a casual group hangout at their dorm. You and Hyunjin had been careful to keep your relationship private, but apparently, not careful enough.

“You two are acting weird,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes as he watched you and Hyunjin sit suspiciously far apart on the couch.

“Weird how?” Hyunjin asked, feigning innocence.

“Weird as in, you’re trying too hard not to look at each other,” Seungmin chimed in, smirking.

Before you could deny it, Changbin leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wait a second. Did something happen between you two?”

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Yes, something happened.”

Weeks after the public reveal, life settled into a new rhythm. You and Hyunjin were still navigating the world as a couple, balancing the constant demands of work and your blossoming relationship. The attention from fans and the media was overwhelming at times, but you had each other to lean on.

One quiet afternoon, you were at a cafe, sharing a rare moment of peace away from the chaos. Hyunjin was sitting across from you, fiddling with his phone while you sipped on your iced coffee. The soft hum of conversation and the sound of clinking cups created a comforting atmosphere.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Hyunjin said, looking up from his phone.

“Uh-oh,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “I’m serious, okay? We’ve been at this for a while now faking it, being real, all of it. But... I want more. I want to know what it’s like when there’s no pressure. No cameras, no fans, just you and me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “More?” you repeated, your voice soft.

He nodded, setting his phone aside. “Yeah. More dates without anyone watching. More lazy days where we can just be ourselves. I want to take this slow, but also, I don’t want to waste any more time pretending it’s not real.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, the sincerity in his voice making your chest tight. “I want that too,” you whispered.

The smile he gave you in return made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. The simple gesture felt more meaningful than any grand declaration.

“Then it’s settled,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “No more pretending. Just us.”

And as you left the cafe, hand in hand, it felt like the first step toward truly being yourselves—no more masks, no more facades.

Of course, even though you and Hyunjin were more serious than ever, that didn’t mean the teasing from the members stopped. If anything, it got worse.

One evening, after a long day of practice, the Stray Kids members were all lounging around in the dorm, taking a break. You and Hyunjin had just come back from a walk, still holding hands when you entered the living room.

“Look who it is, the couple of the century,” Changbin teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Hyunjin grumbled, trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “You guys are the worst.”

Felix grinned, giving you a knowing look. “We just need to see if you two are as cute off-camera as you are on. I’m still waiting for a public kiss, you know.”

You shot him a glare, but Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Maybe we’ll give you a kiss when you stop being so nosy,” he said, his voice teasing.

“Oh, that’s it,” Han chimed in, making a face. “I’m going to vomit.”

You laughed, your hand slipping into Hyunjin’s as you sat down beside him. “You’re all insufferable.”

“They just want to see how sweet you two are together,” Seungmin said with a smirk. “But I have to admit, it’s nice to see Hyunjin like this. He’s never been this... open.”

your heart fluttered at his words, and you looked up at Hyunjin, who was now giving Seungmin an exaggerated side-eye. “Don’t make it sound like I was some mystery,” he said, though the grin on his face betrayed him.

You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell at the thought of how far the two of you had come. What started as a simple arrangement had evolved into something deeper, something real, and the teasing, while relentless, only made it feel more genuine.

One rainy afternoon, as you were curled up on the couch in your apartment, Hyunjin walked in with an envelope in hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What's this?” you asked, sitting up and eyeing him curiously.“It’s a surprise,” he said with a wink, handing you the envelope.

Inside was a ticket for a private art exhibit that was being held at a museum in the city. The exhibit was a collection of works from various contemporary artists, and it was known for being intimate, with only a handful of people allowed in at a time.

“I got us tickets,” Hyunjin said, his voice soft. “I know you love art, and I thought it’d be a good way to spend some time together, away from everything else.”

Your heart melted. “Hyunjin, this is so thoughtful.”

He smiled, looking pleased with himself. “I figured it would be something different. Plus, we get to walk around the exhibit hand-in-hand without worrying about paparazzi or cameras.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “You really do know how to surprise me.”

As the two of you spent the afternoon wandering through the quiet halls of the museum, talking about the paintings and sculptures that caught your eye, you felt the world outside fade away. It was just the two of you, sharing something special, and it felt perfect.

Later that evening, after a quiet dinner, Hyunjin walked you back to your apartment, his hand still holding yours tightly.

“Thanks for today,” you said, your voice soft as you glanced up at him. “It was one of the best days I’ve had in a while.”

Hyunjin smiled down at you, his eyes warm and full of affection. “I’m glad. I’ll always find ways to make you happy.”

And as he kissed you gently under the dim light of your apartment hallway, you knew he meant every word.

Months passed, and your relationship with Hyunjin only grew stronger. There were still moments of teasing from the members, still the occasional bout of nerves before public appearances, but through it all, you both knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t just an act anymore.

One evening, as the two of you sat together on the rooftop of the dorm, gazing out at the city lights, Hyunjin turned to you with a serious expression.

“You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “when we first started this, I never thought we’d end up here. But now, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you reached over, taking his hand. “Me neither,” you said softly. “I think I’ve always known it was real, even if I didn’t want to admit it.”

Hyunjin smiled, leaning in to kiss you. “Then let’s make it real—forever.”

As you kissed him, the world around you faded, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The End... or perhaps just the beginning.

[david-talks-sw]

Debunking myths in the GFFA: Luke Skywalker isn't the One True Jedi™ and doesn't "reject the Jedi teachings."

The myth:

Luke's Jedi mentors - trained to be dispassionate and mission-driven - callously tell him to let his friends die in service of a greater cause.

"In The Empire Strikes Back, Luke becomes Yoda's Padawan, and there are echoes of Anakin's training and the dilemmas he faced. Like Anakin, Luke is told he is too old to begin the training. Like Anakin, he has a vision of his loved ones suffering in captivity, and receives cold advice from Yoda, who tells him to sacrifice Han and Leia if he honors what they fight for." - Jason Fry, “Family Tradition; Rejecting the Jedi Teachings” Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

The Jedi are actually right on all points. Luke isn't ready or fully trained and he's arrogantly letting his emotions rule him and rushing into danger. By ignoring them, Luke gets himself into a spot of trouble that actually jeopardizes the lives of the very friends he tried to help, as they now need to rescue him.

“It’s pivotal that Luke doesn’t have patience. He doesn’t want to finish his training. He’s being succumbed by his emotional feelings for his friends rather than the practical feelings of “I’ve got to get this job done before I can actually save them. I can’t save them, really.” But he sort of takes the easy route, the arrogant route, the emotional but least practical route, which is to say, “I’m just going to go off and do this without thinking too much.” And the result is that he fails and doesn’t do well for Han Solo or himself.”

“Luke is making a critical mistake in his life of going after- to try to save his friends when he’s not ready. There’s a lot being taught here about patience and about waiting for the right moment to do whatever you’re going to do.”

“Luke is in the process of going into an extremely dangerous situation out of his compassion— Without the proper training, without the proper thought, without the proper foresight to figure out how he’s gonna get out of it. His impulses are right, but his methodology is wrong.”

The myth:

The Jedi want Luke to repress his feelings and kill his father, to destroy the Sith, their religious enemies. As emotionally-detached Jedi, it is inconceivable that a Sith would come back from the Dark Side, and thus wrongly believe that the only solution is to kill Vader.

"It's easy to miss that Luke disagrees sharply with his Jedi teachers about what to do. Obi-Wan and Yoda have trained Luke and push him toward a second confrontation with Vader. He is, they believe, the Jedi weapon that will destroy both Vader and the Emperor. When Luke insists there is still good in Vader, Obi-Wan retorts that "he's more machine than man-twisted and evil." When Luke says he can't kill his own father, Obi-Wan despairs, "Then the Emperor has already won."  But Obi-Wan could not be more wrong. It is precisely because Luke can't kill his own father that he defeats the Sith." - Jason Fry, Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

The Jedi never tell Luke to "kill" his father. That's just a fact.

They tell him to "confront" and "face" him.

Their bottom line is that Vader and the Emperor need to be stopped.

If Luke can manage to do so without killing his father, that's great.

"In Jedi the film is really about the redemption of this fallen angel. Ben is the fitting good angel, and Vader is the bad angel who started off good. All these years Ben has been waiting for Luke to come of age so that he can become a Jedi and redeem his father. That's what Ben has been doing, but you don't know this in the first film." - Star Wars: The Annotated Screenplays, 1998

(credit to @writerbuddha for finding the above quote)

The problem is: Darth Vader has a track record of murdering loved ones who refuse to kill him. Be it his wife...

... his father/brother...

... and if you're going by Canon, his little sister.

As such, there's a very strong chance that Vader might do the same to his son as well.

“A Jedi can’t kill for the sake of killing. The mission isn’t for Luke to go out and kill his father and get rid of him. The issue is, if he confronts his father again, he may, in defending himself, have to kill him, because his father will try to kill him.” - 1981 story conference, from The Making of Return of the Jedi

Now, as the last Jedi left, the fate of the galaxy rests entirely on Luke's shoulders.

If he dies, then the galaxy and its billions of inhabitants are doomed to live in a tyrannical dictatorship forever.

“He knows a confrontation is brewing between Luke and his father. Ben hopes Luke will either save his father or kill him, because whatever extra powers Luke's got in his lineage, he is the one person that can probably fight his father and win.” - The Star Wars Archives: 1977-1983, 2018

There's a time for talking things through... and a time to do your duty. Above all else, a Jedi's duty is to end conflict.

Obi-Wan was once tasked with this same duty.

And while he managed to weaken Vader considerably (thus avoiding the catastrophe of a full-powered Vader being unleashed onto the galaxy)... because of his attachment, he failed to kill Vader.

Twice, if you include the Kenobi show.

(A show which, per Pablo Hidalgo, is one of George Lucas' favorite recent Star Wars projects, a tidbit that doesn't surprise me one bit considering how much the series perfectly aligns with what Lucas said about Star Wars (see here, here and here))

Point being: because Ben failed his duty, the galaxy suffered for it.

Luke is now in danger of doing the same.

If he's unable to end the conflict in a peaceful way, then Luke needs to be ready to do so in a more permanent manner. Because while Luke has qualms about killing his father, there's a very big chance that the feeling won't be mutual.

So Luke isn't rejecting his teachers' orders to kill Vader. He's saying he's unable to confront Vader altogether, because he'll be half-assing the task. In the (very likely) worst case scenario where reasoning with Vader fails, Luke is concerned he won't be able to follow-through and do what he must.

Further, there's also a worse outcome to Luke dying: Luke joining the Dark Side and becoming yet another asset of the Emperor, more dangerous than Vader himself.

It's thus essential that Luke steel himself and mask his emotions, because the Emperor is a master manipulator who'll likely attempt to corrupt Luke via the strong emotions he has for his friends.

Obi-Wan is not telling Luke to repress his emotions. On the contrary, he acknowledges that these feelings do Luke credit. But the fact remains that when your opponent can jiu-jitsu those feelings against you and your friends, you need to keep a poker face.

And judging by how close the Sith Lords come to seducing Luke to the Dark Side...

... that advice is completely on point.

The myth:

"It isn't Jedi teachings that save the galaxy, but bonds the Jedi tried to forbid - such as the love of a father for his son, and a son for his father. Emotional attachments, in other words." - Jason Fry, Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

In Return of the Jedi, Luke isn't doing anything different than what other Jedi have done.

He does his best to avoid lethal force unless he deems that it is necessary (see his fight against Jabba's hostile forces).

He sacrifices himself for the greater good and let himself be captured, in order to allow the mission to be carried out.

He tries to reason with his enemy, hoping to avoid conflict.

He spares his enemy, showing mercy.

That's all standard Jedi stuff. We've seen other Jedi do all those things, both in the films and The Clone Wars.

If that isn't enough, just look at how Lucas describes what Jedi normally do (left), versus what Luke does in Return of the Jedi (right):

See what I mean? There’s pretty much no difference.

In Lucas' narrative, Luke isn’t “better than” or “rejecting the teachings” of the Jedi who came before him. He’s following the Jedi path. And he's really good at doing so.

Because this idea that Luke "rejects the teachings" makes no sense! They're Lucas' teachings. He agrees with the Jedi, they're the mouthpieces he uses to deliver the audience his own values.

Lucas having his main character do something he'd ideologically disagree with is something that doesn't make sense.

And part of this confusion comes from a misunderstanding of the word "attachment", in Star Wars.

It doesn't mean "emotional attachments" or "feelings" or "affection." It comes from the Buddhist principle of non-attachment.

It's not about depriving yourself of relationships or affection, it's about accepting that everything comes and goes and letting go of those very things you hold on to, when the time comes.

Lucas makes a distinction in his discourse between attachment and compassion.

"The whole idea of the movie, ultimately is that you have the Light Side and the Dark Side. The Light Side is compassion, which means you care about other people. The Dark Side is you care only about yourself. And you are obsessed with yourself. Getting your pleasure and getting all your stuff. The other one, you give it to everybody. You give goodness and health to everybody else.  So the issue of love... there’s a line between loving somebody compassionately and caring about them and helping them. But the other line is not to be greedy or... once you are greedy then you get fearful. You don’t want to lose what it is you have that you are getting. So you have to learn to give up everything. And ultimately for a Jedi Knight, it’s very easy to give up." - Celebration V, Main Event, 2010

In-universe, this is something Anakin knew the theory of, but never really applied all that much.

Luke on the other hand, was able to learn the lesson and apply it.

Speaking in Lucas lingo, it's not Luke's attachment that makes him spare Vader. It's his compassion. And in turn, that compassion inspires Vader to do the same.

"It really has to do with learning. Children teach you compassion. They teach you to love unconditionally. Anakin can’t be redeemed for all the pain and suffering he’s caused. He doesn’t right the wrongs, but he stops the horror. The end of the Saga is simply Anakin saying, ‘I care about this person, regardless of what it means to me. I will throw away everything that I have, everything that I have grown to love - primarily the Emperor - and throw away my life, to save this person. And I’m doing this because he has faith in me, loves me despite all the horrible things I’ve done. I broke his mother’s heart, but he still cares about me, and I can’t let that die.’" - The Making of Revenge of The Sith; page 221

Or, to put things more simply:

Attachment (selfish love), is what makes Anakin do this:

Compassion (selfless love), is what makes Luke do this:

Now, could Lucas have made his narrative more explicit, to avoid confusion? Maybe.

But I think it's also fair to point the finger at the biggest cause of these muddied waters:

Simply put, the Expanded Universe (the Star Wars books, novels and games that spun out of the films) established new lore elements that didn't necessarily align with Lucas' vision of things. Namely:

Jedi can get married, and Luke marries Mara Jade.

Jedi can begin their training as adults, and Luke takes on many apprentices that are already adults.

When considering George's minimal involvement in the development of EU stories, it's easy to see why these plot points were allowed to come through.

But when he made the Prequels, his headcanons came to light and the above plot points needed to be retconned.

George Lucas' narrative:

"Nope. You can't be a Jedi and be married."

This isn't actually coming out of left field.

When Timothy Zahn asked for Luke and Mara to be married or engaged, back in 1993, Lucasfilm initially vetoed the idea.

And over the years, Lucas and other Lucasfilm employees have made it it clear that "Luke getting married" did not align with his vision (so much so that it's a plot point in Attack of the Clones).

So the question becomes: why can't Jedi get married?

It's about commitment.

Simply put: you can't have two marriages. Eventually, your commitment to one of them will falter and you'll ruin them both. A Jedi is already married to the cause and to the Order.

If they want to get married, they have to leave the Jedi.

"One of the things [the Jedi] give up is marriage. They can still love people. But they can’t possess them. They can’t own them. They can’t demand that they do things. They have to be able to accept the fact, one, their mortality, that they are going to die. And not worry about it. That the loved ones they have, everything they love is going to die and they can’t do anything about it. I mean they can protect them as you would ordinarily protect, you know, ‘Get out of the way of that car.’ Somebody charges you with a gun, you knock the gun out, but there is an inevitability to life which is death and you have to accept that." - Celebration V, Main Event, 2010

And this is another example, really, of how Lucas' own values and past experiences shape the Jedi's teachings.

Marcia Lucas divorced George because he was constantly working on Star Wars, even when he wasn't directing it, which she said led to an emotional blockage in their marriage...

... and this leads us to the reason why George didn't double-down on the success of the Original Trilogy: he decided to take time off to raise his three kids as a single Dad.

He learned his lesson, reasoned that he wouldn't be able to be both a good, present father and a successful blockbuster film director.

When you're dealing with time-consuming commitments of this scale, you need to make a choice, or you'll end up (half-assing and thus ruining) both of them.

"Nope. Jedi get taken in as babies for a reason."

Once again, this has to do with Lucas' definition of "attachment."

"Jedi Knights get taken from their families very young. They do not grow attachments, because attachment is a path to the Dark Side. You can love people, but you can't want to possess them. They're not yours. Accept that they have a fate. Even those you love most are going to die. You can't do anything about that. Protect them with your lightsaber, but if they die they were going to die. There's nothing you can do. All you can do is accept that fact. In mythology, if you go to Hades to get them back, you're not doing it for them, you're doing it for yourself. You're doing it because you don't want to give them up. You're afraid to be without them. The key to the Dark Side is fear. You must be clean of fear, and fear of loss is the greatest fear. If you're set up for fear of loss, you will do anything to keep that loss from happening, and you're going to end up in the Dark Side. That's the basic premise of Star Wars and the Jedi, and how it works. That's why they're taken at a young age to be trained. They cannot get themselves killed trying to save their best buddy when it's a hopeless exercise." - The Star Wars Archives: 1977-1983, 2018

Jedi need to maintain objectivity and neutrality, in their day-to-day lives of mediating peace between planets.

And learning to "let go of your attachments when the time comes" is part of that training. But it is something that takes discipline and time, and thus the child needs to be young enough to develop this skill. Otherwise, they end up like Anakin, who always struggled to properly learn it and eventually was doomed by his greed.

This being part of Lucas narrative is also evidenced that in his earlier plans for the Sequel trilogy, he'd have Luke train children, not adults like he does in the EU.

"Luke is trying to restart the Jedi. He puts the word out, so out of 100,000 Jedi, maybe 50 or 100 are left. The Jedi have to grow again from scratch, so Luke has to find two- and three-year-olds, and train them. It’ll be 20 years before you have a new generation of Jedi." The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020

The EU's retcons of Lucas' narrative:

Now, obviously, the addition of all these rules and other elements such as midi-chlorians... it does something to the older audience. They grew up on the Original Trilogy, dreaming they could be a Jedi too if they just believed enough. Now that bubble is burst.

"Wait, if I'm a Jedi I can't get married?! And I need to be taken in as a toddler, with a certain kind of blood score?! That's bullshit!"

More importantly... it goes against about a decade's worth of established EU lore (which Lucas never factored into his storytelling)!

So what does Lucasfilm Licensing do? They go with it.

They take these "weird" rules the older audience and authors don't like, and retcon a new narrative around them to ensure both the books and the new films all stay canon within the EU own continuity.

George Lucas revealed new information about his universe in Episode II that ran counter to earlier stories of the Expanded Universe. Among the surprises: the Jedi Order is monastic, with love and marriage forbidden to its members. This would necessitate reforms to the Jedi Code over time to separate the ancient era when Nomi Sunrider was married to a Jedi, seen in the Tales of the Jedi (1993–94) comics, as well as the post-Empire era when Luke Skywalker married Mara Jade in the comic series Union (1999–2000). LucasBooks also needed to create plausible exceptions for Ki-Adi-Mundi, a Jedi Master who had multiple wives in the Prelude to Rebellion comics (1999). - Pablo Hidalgo, The Essential Reader��s Companion, 2012

When it comes to Luke specifically, the narrative becomes:

"Uh... y-yes. The old Jedi Order forbid marriage, only took in toddlers and had a blood pre-requisite... which was weird, wrong, too detached, too systemic, and part of why their Order failed! But, uh, Luke's New Jedi Order allows marriage, unlike his dogmatic predecessors, because anyone can be a Jedi guys!" Hahaha! (fuck's sake George)

But as already explained above: those new rules aren't meant to be perceived negatively. It would make no sense if they were, they're based on Lucas' own values.

You know what it does do, though?

It cements the narrative that Luke is the One True Jedi™, who rejected the dogmatic teachings to forge a new path forward.

That's not the intended narrative of the Original Trilogy, nor the six-film saga as a whole.

If you've made it this far in the post (congratulations) and are interested to read another all-encompassing post about that, you can check out the link below :)

[saturns-peachy-honeymoon]

green thumbs and not-husbands 

summary: darry goes with you to a plant nursery

content: darry x honey!reader. kids being kids. part ii of the girl across the way series (but can be a standalone)

word count: 1204

A sigh left Darry’s lips as he pulled his Ford into the driveway, his broad body falling back against the seat. He thought for sure that when he started working on the roofing business's finances, he wouldn’t be nearly as tired as he was when he had been roofing. But boy, was he wrong. Sure, his back didn’t ache, and he didn’t have to worry about falling off a roof or anything, but damn were people annoying. And trust, if anyone knew annoying, it was Darrel Curtis. He had six teenage boys who spent more time in his house than their own, not to mention that one of them was Two-Bit Mathews. 

He was sitting up to step out of his dad’s old truck when he spotted you carrying a large pot in his rearview mirror. Darry smiled softly to himself as he slid out of his truck to greet you. 

“Hey, neighbor,” he said softly. 

You turned to him with a 1000-watt smile, “Howdy, honey, how was your day?” 

Darry quickly picked up a large peony bush from your trunk to hide the flush that spread across his face at the nickname. After spending the majority of the past weekend helping you paint, he’d learn that pet names fell from your lips as frequently as curse words fell from Dallas’. 

“Long.” 

“I hear you, darlin’,” You drawled sweetly, picking up another plant. 

“The kids give you a hard time?” 

“Oh no, they’re angels. But that dang nursery…”

“Seems like you bought their entire inventory,” Darry noted as he grabbed two more plants from your baby blue car. 

“Well, I tried. But I couldn’t get that dang peach tree in my car all the way, and they said having it sticking out the way it was a hazard or somethin’, and I gotta wait a full week for them to deliver the darn thing to me.” Your eyes widened, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to complain, I’m just a little frustrated.” 

“You think it’d fit in the back of my truck?” Darry smiled at you, cocking his head slightly. He couldn’t quite explain why, but he really wanted to be the solution to your problem. 

“Well, yes, but I couldn’t ask you to help with that. You just got off of work, I shouldn’t even be lettin’ you help me with this,” you said, removing the plant he was holding from his arms. 

“Honey,” he said, testing the pet name out, trying to meet you with the same sweet energy you always brought to him. Tonight, when he was alone, he’d have to mull over why calling you that felt so natural on his tongue, but that, in addition to the way he couldn’t help but smile as he noticed your slight flush at the name, was a later problem. “Let me do this. I gotta keep myself busy for another hour anyway while I wait to pick Pony up from track practice.” 

"You sure you don't mind?''

"Positive."

. . .

“You wanna come home with me, darlin’? I promise I’ll take real good care of ya,” You drawled, gently touching the leaves of a small peach tree. 

Darry cocked his head at you curiously. Okay, so maybe you were a little insane, but in a cute way? “What’s the consensus?”

You smiled back at him, “Looks like my garden’s getting a new addition!” 

He picked up the tree, chuckling slightly, “Made the right choice, bud.” Great, now he’s talking to the plant. 

“I’d like to think s-” 

Your thought was caught off guard by a small child jumping into your arms. She looked up at you sweetly, blonde ringlets falling in her face, “I missed you!” 

“You saw me a couple of hours ago, sweetie!” You giggled at the girl. 

Suddenly, her big eyes fell on Darry, “Wow, is this your husband?” 

“I ain’t quite that lucky,” Darry laughed, his ears going hot as he spoke. 

You barely met his gaze as your cheeks flushed, “You’re far too nice to me.” You turned back to the girl, brushing a piece of hair out of her face, “Abby, this is my friend Mr. Darry.” 

“Hi!” She waved before leaning in to whisper (or attempt to whisper) to you, “He’s handsome.” 

You gave him a meaningful look before leaning in to respond, “I know.” 

And damn, if his face wasn’t red before it sure was now. Sure, he’d been called handsome plenty of times before, and in all honesty, he knew he was. But hearing that you thought so was different for some reason. 

“Abby! What are you-“ A blonde woman called out as she sprinted toward her daughter, a younger child on her hip. Relief spread across her face as she saw you. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“Hi, Mrs. Miller! How are you?” 

“I’d be better if I could keep this one from running off,” the woman huffed. “Abby, baby. You gotta wait for me.”

You lowered Abby to the ground as she murmured an apology to her mother.

Quickly moving on, Abby pointed at Darry, “This is Mr. Darry! He’s her… not-husband!” 

“Nice to meet you, Darry,” Mrs. Miller laughed. ”I’m Cathy, and this,” she motioned to the baby on her hip, “is Tommy.” 

“Great to meet you both.” 

Tommy extended his chubby arms out to you. 

“Hey, Little Man.” You looked up at his mother, “May I?” 

“Please.” 

Gently, you took the young boy into your arms.  You looked at Darry as Tommy played with your fingers, “Ain’t he cute?” 

Darry looked at the baby, wide-eyed and a little smaller than he probably should be. “Real cute. Kinda reminds me of Ponyboy when he was little,” Darry responded, watching as the child nestled into your side like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“His younger brother,” you explained. “He’s real bright.” 

Abby pulled at the bottom of your skirt. “Can I show you something?” 

“If your mom says it’s okay.”

“Go ahead.” She looked down at Abby, “Come right back.” 

“We’ll be back in the shake of a lamb's tail!” You called out to Darry as you followed after the young girl who had beelined for the small koi pond in the center of the nursery. 

“She’s so good with them.” Cathy started,  “We’re so lucky to have her. Tommy’s a little behind. He doesn’t speak that much. Or um, at all. But she’s just so patient with him.”

Darry could practically feel the nerves radiating off of her, “Ya know, my brother started talking a little late.”

“And he’s okay?”

“One of the smartest kids I know. Skipped a grade and everything,” he shared proudly. 

A bit of tension left the woman’s shoulders, and she mouthed a quiet thank you. 

His eyes fell back on you, bobbing your hip slightly and pulling a giggle from the little boy's lips as his sister excitedly pointed at the fish. “The kids sure seem to like her.” 

Cathy followed his gaze and smiled at him knowingly, “Everyone does. She’s something special.” 

“She really is,” Darry mused. 

The woman placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t take too long to show her, okay?” A teasing smile danced on her lips as she tagged on, “Mr. Not-Husband.”

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